Rest in Peace

by Darrell Maloney

  “Odds are even he’ll pass out. And if he doesn’t pass out he’s crawling around on the floor blind as a bat, trying desperately to get air into his lungs.”

  “Seriously? How long does it last?”

  “He’ll be blinded until somebody washes the stuff from his eyes. He’ll have trouble breathing for several minutes.”

  Marty was intrigued.

  “Tell me what happened to Kathy’s friend.”

  “She was sitting in her living room watching TV. Her husband was at work and she was all alone.

  “All of a sudden this dude walked into the living room from the kitchen.

  “Apparently she’d gone out on the patio to water her flowers and didn’t lock the sliding doors when she came back.

  “He was toting an empty backpack, and the cops said he was probably just there to burglarize the place.

  “But when he saw her there in her nightgown he had other ideas.

  “He reached for his belt and she knew she was about to be raped.”

  “This is why women home alone should have a gun nearby.”

  “That’s just it. She had a concealed carry permit and never went out without her pistol. But she made the mistake a lot of people do. When she was at home she took off the darn thing and put it in her dresser drawer.

  “Anyway, when she was out on the patio watering her flowers she noticed a couple of wasps building a nest on her roof line.

  “She got some wasp spray and shot the nest and was planning on going back out later to look for others.

  “She’d laid the can of spray on her coffee table when the commercials were over and she went back to her shows.

  “Anyway, those cans are highly pressurized. They shoot up to thirty feet, according to the can.

  “She picked it up and sprayed it all the way across the room and gave the guy a face full of it.

  “He had no place to run, and covering his face didn’t help him at all.”

  “Kathy said he went down to the floor like a shot, coughing and rolling around. She said he tried to scream from the pain but all he could do was squeal because he couldn’t inhale any oxygen.

  “She said he was flopping around on the floor like a fish out of water.

  “But despite his flopping around, he was as defenseless as a newborn baby.”

  “So what did the woman do?”

  “She freaked out. She didn’t want to run upstairs to get her gun, and she didn’t know if she had enough time to call the police.

  “So she picked up a brass lamp and walloped him on the head with it.

  “I’m guessing it was a heavy lamp too, because she knocked him out cold. Gave him a big concussion.

  “Poor son of a bitch. I sure feel sorry for him, don’t you?”

  His smile belied his words.

  “Anyway, it turned out she did him a big favor. When she knocked him out his body relaxed and he was able to breathe easier. She called 911 and they took him away in an ambulance. By the time he came to in the hospital it was two days later and they had all the poison cleaned off of him.

  “He woke up handcuffed to the bed and facing big time charges, but at least he was awake.”

  “You might be onto something, Bob. I wonder if we have any such spray in the supply room.”

  “We do. We do. I already checked. Want me to bring you a can and take one to Gary too?”

  “I do. I do.”

  At that moment he reached the end of the fishing line. It popped out from the crack in the wall with Richard’s note tied onto one of the washers.

  “Well, well,” Marty smiled and said. “Looks like we may be in business.”

  -45-

  Ace was chomping at the bits to come over to Marty to see what the note said.

  But leaving his post while he was standing watch would be a bad thing.

  Marty was a good pal though, and didn’t keep his friend waiting.

  “Richard wants to come in the same way Sennett did. Through the supply room. Do you think you and I can move that heavy cabinet out of the way of the ventilation panel?”

  “Heck, those putzes put it there. Anything the five of them can do I reckon the two of us can handle.”

  “You still got eyeballs on them?”

  “Yes. They’re all sticking like glue to the platform, like they’re scared to separate.

  “I think they’re giving us too much credit. I mean, we’re unarmed. What could we possibly do to them?”

  “Um… let’s see. Maybe kill them?”

  “Yeah. But they’re not supposed to know that.

  “They won’t be able to stay all bunched up forever. At some point they have to break into shifts so some of them can get some sleep.”

  “Do you think we’d be better off waiting until then or hitting them when they’re all together?”

  “I personally think we’re better hitting them quick. Before they get comfortable and learn how to thin their target signature.”

  “What time you got?”

  Ace checked his watch.

  “I’ve got five thirty.”

  Marty took the note and shoved it in his mouth.

  It tasted nasty, but chewing a note as though it were chewing gum was a very effective way of destroying it if there was no other good means available.

  He’d learned that in a spy movie, although he couldn’t remember which one.

  He took out a clean sheet of paper and started writing.

  Passageway blocked on this end.

  Otherwise safe to pass.

  Advise if you’re ready to go at 1830.

  If so will clear blockage and wait for you

  -Marty-

  He wrapped the note around the fishing line just above the washers and taped it into place in the same manner he had before.

  Then he hung the washers on the hooked end of the straightened clothes hanger, shoved it as far as he could into the crack, then turned the wire upside down to release them.

  The speed in which the fishing line flew into the crack told him the washers and note fell straight to the ground.

  By the time Marty replaced the duct tape over the crack, Richard was already reading the note.

  “What did you tell him?” Ashton asked from the doorway.

  “I told him we’ll be ready to go in an hour if he is.

  “Did you give Gary a can of the wasp spray?”

  “Yes. He’s got it tucked inside his field jacket, ready for your word on when to use it.”

  “And you’ve got yours?”

  Ashton opened up the bulky coat he had on to reveal a large can of insecticide inside the coat’s inner pocket.

  “Actually, this one’s for you, if you want it.

  “If I leave this one with you, I’ll go directly back to my cell after I leave here and get the third one.”

  “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you let me have that one, and you can go get the other, then come right back here.

  “By the time you return Richard should have had a chance to answer my message.”

  Marty wasn’t wearing a jacket.

  The temperature in the cell block hovered right around sixty five degrees, day and night.

  It was rather cool for some people, but he was comfortable at that temperature and didn’t normally have to wear a jacket or a coat.

  But it wouldn’t be inconspicuous at all for him to wander into the crowd in the day room carrying a large spray can.

  He didn’t give Sennett or his men much credit, but even they might see the can and sense something was up.

  The problem was this wasn’t his cell. It was Bill Brady’s, and the clothes hanging in the small rack behind the bunk were Bill’s.

  So were the two jackets hanging there with them.

  Marty thought he and Bill were about the same size, but wasn’t positive.

  Women size each other up all the time to determine who has the better figure, the smaller tummy, the bigger boobs.

  But men tend not to
look at one another in such ways.

  They’re typically too busy looking at the women as well.

  He took the first jacket off the rack and held it out in front of him.

  It looked to be about his size, but was very thin. Almost a wind breaker, really. He didn’t think it would hide the bulky can beneath it.

  The other was a military field jacket, similar to the olive drab green jacket Gary Cupp wore.

  Only this one was black.

  Marty looked inside and sure enough it had a NATO size tag.

  It was military issue.

  But black? He wondered about Bill Brady and the past he never told anyone about. He’d heard a rumor once about Bill being in the Navy in his younger years. Perhaps this was the Navy version of the Army field jacket.

  He tried it on.

  It fit perfectly.

  The trouble was, there was no inside pocket.

  No problem, though. The sleeves were rather bulky, and he was able to slip the can into the sleeve with his arm.

  He stood in front of a full-length mirror to see if the bulge was visible.

  It wasn’t.

  He turned to see Ace Ashton back in place at his door.

  “Okay,” he told his friend. “Keep watch again and we’ll see what Richard has to say.”

  -46-

  Ace checked his watch again as Marty untied the note from the steel washer and unrolled it.

  It was now five minutes of six.

  “What’s it say?”

  Marty read the note aloud.

  See you at 1830.

  Be careful.

  God be with us.

  Marty noticed he didn’t sign it this time, but the handwriting was the same as before.

  He thought nothing of it.

  He probably figured by now Richard knew who he was dealing with.

  Ace asked, “So it’s a go, then?”

  “It’s a go.”

  “Want me to pass the word to everybody something’s going down and to prepare to take cover?”

  “No. If everyone knows something’s coming they’ll clear the area as quickly as an old western town cleared the streets before a gunfight.

  “Sennett would see everyone disappearing into their cells and would know something was up.

  “Besides, we need to go out and mingle with the crowd and we can’t do that if there isn’t one.”

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  “Go find Gary Cupp. Tell him to find a place to sit at a table as close to the platform as he can.

  “Tell him as soon as the stuff hits the fan to use his spray to take out one of the bad guys. Tell him to focus on only one of them. You and I will back him up.”

  “Why only one of them?”

  “If he sweeps the spray and tries to take out more than one he’ll waste a lot of it and may run out. Better to focus on only one man and give him the full force of it.”

  “After I give him the message?”

  “Meet me in the supply room so you can help me move that cabinet.”

  Marty wasn’t a nervous sort by nature.

  He liked to think he had nerves of steel.

  Glenna told him he had ice water running through his veins.

  But it wasn’t true.

  After Ace left he placed his hand out in front of him and examined it carefully.

  It was shaking.

  Oh, it was slight. And others probably wouldn’t have noticed it.

  But Marty did.

  No matter how hard he tried to hold it steady he was unable to.

  That wasn’t what bothered him, though.

  What bothered him was an unnerving feeling he was going to die today.

  And that others would die too.

  Not the bad guys.

  Or rather, not only the bad guys.

  But some of his friends as well.

  The feeling, or the shaking for that matter, wouldn’t stop him from doing what needed to be done.

  He was a man.

  And sometimes men placed themselves at great peril to save those they loved.

  It wasn’t a need to be a hero, or to have their loved ones praise their bravery.

  It just was what it was.

  Marty was a student of history. He’d never gone to college, but likely would have gotten a degree in American or World History.

  Perhaps he might have taught it, in another life.

  He’d never gone past high school, deciding to be a truck driver instead of a scholar.

  History was always a passion of his, though.

  Something popped into his brain.

  Something he couldn’t attribute to anyone in particular. Churchill, perhaps. Or maybe Patton.

  “Bravery isn’t fighting on thinking there’s a chance you might be killed, for that’s always a possibility in war.

  “Bravery is fighting on when your death is assured beyond doubt.”

  He took a deep breath and walked out of the cell.

  -47-

  “What was that all about?” Frank asked her.

  Josie laughed.

  She was most beautiful of all when she laughed.

  “All what?”

  “The whole thing. You greeting me naked. You making love to me, even though you told me just yesterday you weren’t into thousand year old men with wrinkles.”

  “That was kinda harsh, wasn’t it?”

  “Kinda. But thousand year old men have tough skin.”

  “Does it have to be about anything?”

  “It usually does.”

  He was lying on his bunk, propped up on one elbow, still naked as a jaybird.

  She was mostly dressed now, looking for one of her socks she’d tossed somewhere in the tent.

  The feeble vanilla-scented candle didn’t offer her much help.

  She stopped searching and sat down on an Ottoman in front of the bed.

  “It’s just that… well, I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day.”

  “I said a lot of things the other day. Can you be a bit more specific?”

  “You said I was so mean and hostile to you because I was trying to deny that I was falling in love with you.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yes, that.”

  “And exactly what did you think of my most astute observation?”

  “Mostly that it wasn’t an astute observation at all.

  “At least at first.

  “At first I was trying to figure out where you got off accusing me of such a thing. I mean, you just don’t tell a woman she is incapable of knowing and understanding her own feelings…”

  “I do.”

  “Well, maybe you shouldn’t. It’s not very nice. It’s insulting.”

  “It’s only insulting if I’m wrong. And I stand by my observation.”

  “You’re a stubborn old coot, aren’t you?”

  “Indubitably.”

  She took his hand.

  He smiled.

  “You said at first you were insulted. What about after you thought about it? What came next after the insulted?”

  “What came next was a flashback of my life so far. How screwed up it’s been.”

  “I wouldn’t call it that. You learned a valuable trade. You developed a talent for saving lives. Heck, you saved my life.”

  “I know. That’s the problem.”

  The smile was replaced by a frown.

  “It’s a problem you saved my life? Thanks a lot.”

  “Not what I meant.

  “It’s a problem that everyone I know thinks I was this great success. My family speaks of me in glowing terms because I actually went to college instead of becoming a criminal.

  “My older brother John thinks I should be praised because I’ve saved a few lives.

  “All my brothers tell me they consider me the only decent person in the family. And that the rest of them are all slackers and losers.”

  “Sounds to me they think rather highly of you. How is that a
problem, exactly?”

  “It’s a problem because it’s not true. Not true at all.”

  “Explain please.”

  “My whole life I’ve been a failure.

  “When I was in high school I wanted to do it all. I wanted to be the head cheerleader. The prom queen. I wanted to date the high school quarterback. Be the valedictorian.

  “I wanted to wash the family name of all the mud it had accumulated over the previous four or five generations.

  “I wanted to show everybody the Dykes name could be an honorable name. That members of our family were just as good as anyone else. That there was more goodness in our family than bad.

  “I actually had my valedictorian speech written in my freshman year.

  “I was going to chastise everyone for pre-judging me based on my family name.

  “I was going to tell them that high school teaches much more than history and mathematics and science. I was going to say many of life’s lessons are learned in high school.

  “How to get along with people.

  “How to accept people for who they are.

  “How to toss away one’s prejudices and to give others a chance.”

  -48-

  “And did you? Accomplish all that in high school, I mean?”

  “I couldn’t do any of it. I was blackballed before I even got started.

  “I was the best candidate at open cheerleader tryouts. I know because I got to see the other girls perform. But I wasn’t selected. There was no way that Plainview High School was ever going to let a Dykes girl on the squad.

  “The same happened when I tried out for Drama Club, for the yearbook, for the cross-country team.

  “Nobody wanted me.

  “I said to hell with them. I could still excel academically. I could still become valedictorian. I could still give my speech.

  “Then my teachers starting losing homework I’d turned in.

  “They started knocking down my grades on projects. Giving me a C on a project that was far better than the project the teacher’s pet got an A on.

  “The writing was on the wall. I was a mediocre student. I graduated in the middle of the pack.

  “And that was an omen.

  “That told me I would never succeed at anything.