1
Officer Nelson was going
through the events of the day in his mind as he always did. He did it everyday toward the end of his
shift, sometimes out of boredom, but mostly to pre-condense things so it wouldn't
take as much time to fill out his reports later. He liked being a cop, but the paperwork was the bad part of the
job that you took with the good.
The rain was coming down
almost sideways and the thought of a hot bowl of chowder was sounding better by
the minute. His stomach began to
growl. Whether it was in anticipation
of food, or as an objection to all of the coffee he drank today remained a
mystery. He saw the CLOSED sign in the
door as he pulled in the 'Deck' parking lot.
Immediately felt that something was wrong. Mike couldn't remember that last time 'The Deck' had been closed
on a Saturday. He wasn't even sure that
it ever had been.
He quickly turned on his
spotlight and ran the beam from one end of the place to the other. There were a few lights on inside, behind
where he knew the bar to be, other than that the place looked dead. He focused
his spotlight back the front door and then quickly called in his location to
the dispatch sergeant. Then, more out
of habit than because it was raining, he put his hat squarely on his head and
got out of his squad car. He had his
long black aluminum flashlight out before he reached the door and shined it
through the small opening in the window as he tried the door.
Locked. He wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a
bad one. He knocked on the door,
knowing that Luke lived in back. No
answer. He knocked again. Looking through the window, nothing seemed
out of place except the fact Luke wasn't open for business.
"Well, everyone
deserves a day off once in a while," he muttered to himself,
"especially ol' Luke."
But as he walked back to his
car, his professional side told him again something wasn't right. He knew it wouldn't leave him alone until he
investigated further. Besides he knew,
as most cops did, that intuition had saved more butt and solved more crimes,
than any other abilities put together.
He decided to walk around
back and have a quick look around.
Might as well, he thought, he was already soaked with the rain coming
down as hard as it was. As soon as he
turned the corner of the building, he saw Luke's truck sitting in its normal
spot. Strange. Not like Luke at all, to be gone from the
tavern on a regular day, and not even in his own vehicle. He proceeded around the next corner of the
tavern to the emergency exit by the bathrooms.
He expected it to be locked, but was surprised to find it open. He didn't see any signs of a break in, but
he opened the clasp on his holster and clicked off the safety on his pistol
just to be on the safe side. Then he
went inside.
He walked past the doors to
the bathrooms, shining the light in front of him, and turned the corner into
the main part of the tavern. At first
glance, everything looked normal enough.
Then he swung his light to the left, and saw the pinball machine
continuously flashing 'TILT'. As he
swung his flashlight back to the right, he caught the sparkles of broken glass
covering the floor. He reached for his
gun, and then continued his sweep of the tavern, quickly aiming at the room
behind the bar where the light was coming from. Twenty seconds later he was behind the bar, where he found Luke
lying in a pool of blood, pieces of television everywhere.
At first glance, he just
knew Luke was dead, but he had to be sure.
While staying alert for other potential dangers, although he was
beginning to think this was just an accident, he bent down to check for a pulse
on his neck. Nothing. The skin was cool to the touch, but not cold
and stiff. Either Luke was just
recently dead, or… He checked again for
a pulse. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he felt a faint one, but it
could have been his own. Or his
imagination just playing tricks on him to keep him hoping everything was going
to be all right.
"Shit!" he
whispered to himself. He had never been
good at the medical part of the job, never in school, never in follow-up
training, and now, never in practice.
He tried to tell him self he was a cop, not a friggin' paramedic. Still, he had to know what kind of situation
to call in to the station. He didn't
want professional rescuers hauling ass through the wind and rain, risking their
own lives and who knows how many innocent bystanders, to find an obviously dead
who could have waited until tomorrow.
Then he remembered one of
his instructors joking with him, and telling him when all else fails, stick a
mirror under the nose. They had been
joking after Mike had failed the first aid test for the second time that month,
but it sounded pretty good now. He
looked around quickly, but the only mirror was the huge one in back of the
bar. He spotted a big piece of the
television screen lying by Luke's feet.
The back of it was coated with something and he could see his reflection
in it. He quickly grabbed it, cutting
himself on one of the edges, and placed it under Luke's nose. He managed to cut Luke's face at the same
time, and a small trickle of blood formed above his lip. Dead men don't bleed, do they, he asked
himself? As he tried to remember the
answer to that question, a slight mist formed over the jagged piece of glass.
"Well I'll be
damned."
2
Janice pulled her Nissan
Sentra into the entrance to Fort Canby State Park, and immediately headed for
the jetty, ignoring the signs to the right that would have directed her into
the campground. Once on the road
paralleling the jetty, she clicked on her high beams. The rain coming down so hard made seeing anything nearly
impossible. She clicked the lights back
to low and looked over to Granite.
"What do you
think," she asked aloud, not really knowing what else to say, especially
to a dog.
“Granite like this place.”
"Great. When this is over, we can take a nice little
walk on the beach, maybe look for some driftwood," Janice said bitterly,
out of frustration more than anything her faithful companion had done.
“Stop car.”
Janice did as she was
instructed.
“Hey, look Granite, I didn't
mean to bite your head off."
“Gotta pee.”
"Okay," she said
as she reached over and opened his door.
"But don't go too far…”
Before she could finish her sentence,
Granite was out of the car and running up the road faster than she ever seen
him move. Soon she lost him in the rain
ahead. Realizing he wasn't planning on
coming back in the near future, she shut his door. The passenger seat was already soaked.
"Great. Just fucking great!" Janice shouted at
the top of her lungs.
"Calm down," she
told herself. "He probably knows
what he's doing more than you do."
She put the car in drive and
headed up the remainder of the road until it came to a dead end near a small
turn around and a couple weather beaten plastic outhouses. Above all the other noise, she could hear
the sound of crunching oyster shells under her tires. One of the Honey Buckets doors was banging back and forth in the
wind, seeming to grow stronger with every breath she took.
"Fine night for a
family reunion," she muttered to herself.
"Whose idea was this, anyway?"
She swung the car around to
face oncoming traffic, turned the lights down to parking lights, and turned off
the engine.
Once the noise from the
four-cylinder engine was gone, she was suddenly aware of the overwhelming sound
of wind and rain slamming against her car.
She looked out her front windshield for signs of Granite but saw nothing
but the dune grass bending back and forth in the eerie glow of her yellow
parking lamps.
She switched them off
too. It would be better to see them
coming, and from where she was, that way she would have at least a minutes
warning. To do what, she didn't have a
clue. She laid her head on the bucket
seat and tried to gather her thoughts.
The only thing that kept coming to mind in any coherent manner was how
badly she felt she needed a beer.
"Yeah right, good
plan," she said to herself.
"That would be like trying to talk your way out of a D.W.I. and
asking to have a drink with the judge during sentencing."
Distantly, over the sound of
crashing surf, wind and rain, she heard the howl of a dog. Not any dog, but her dog. As faint as it was, she was sure it was
Granite. And the message it carried
needed no translation to human words.
She could feel the words in her bones, feeling them wash over her
mind. All this time, she had forced him
to be like her. Now the tables were
turned. And she understood. He howled again.
"Okay Granite, I got
ya," she said quietly while concentrating on beaming a message back to him
as she spoke.
"Yeah, I heard
you. Be strong. Be fearless. Be ruthless, have no mercy.
Be quiet. Be ready. Yes, and what was that, be all that you can
be? Huh? In the Army? What the hell
are you talking about?"
“Heard on TV.”
"Granite, we need to
talk."
“No talk. Car come.”
Janice looked toward the
park entrance and saw Granite was right.
The car beams were broken by the occasional sand dunes, but there was no
doubt that they were on the road to the jetty.
Could be anybody, she told herself, but on a night like this?
"I see it," she
spoke again, "do you think it's them?"
“Granite know it them. Be strong.
You not alone.”
"Thanks."
3
Mark and Cathy Potter pulled
up in front of the Slippery Deck Tavern just as Officer Nelson was finishing
his call to the station. Cathy rolled
down her window to greet their new friend and saw the look of anguish on his
face under the vapor light on the telephone pole in front of the parking lot.
"Is something wrong,
Mike?" she asked, instantly feeling stupid upon closer look at his face.
"God I'm glad to see
you. You're a nurse, right?" he
asked so quickly she wasn't sure she understood him correctly.
"Ah, yeah, sure. What's up?" she asked, already going
into professional mode.
"I got a man, hell, a
good friend, about a breath away from death inside, if he ain't already. Nearest medical unit is giving me an E.T.A.
of fifteen minutes. I need your help,
now!"
"You got it!"
Cathy said instantly. "Mark, grab
the kit out of the back of the car.
Where's your man?"
"Inside, don't look
good. I thought he was dead until… well
never mind. Behind the bar, be careful,
there's a lot of glass."
The two ran inside with Mark
soon right behind them. By the time he
got there, Cathy was already checking for a pulse and evaluating the patient's
condition.
"Mike's right,"
she stated quickly but calmly, "he's alive and he probably doesn't have
fifteen minutes. Not like he is
now. Mark, break open that kit, get me
some gauze packets, some wraps, and any antiseptic in there. He doesn't have much blood left, but let's
save what he does. Mike, round up some
blankets or something, he's in shock."
"God, I should have
done that before…" Mike started to say.
"There’s no time for
second guessing now, just move it. When
you're done, see if you can raise that helicopter again. No screwing around, straight to Astoria with
this one. Tell them we're talking major
blood loss, lacerations, and probable spinal trauma."
"You got it."
"Here ya go," said
Mark as he handed her the items she requested.
"Some second honeymoon, huh?"
Cathy looked up at him and
smiled.
"Couldn't have been
better."
"How's that?"
asked an astonished Mark Potter.
"Hold this in place
while I wrap it, will you? Careful not
to touch anything but the bandage."
"I'm serious,
Cathy."
"So am I. God only knows where this sailor's been, and
I don't want anything nasty you may have picked up in the hospital getting into
this wound."
"That's not what I
meant!"
"I know. I just love having you for a patient and a
medical partner and a lover all in one day."
"In that order, I presume?" Mark
said.
"Don't get happy, hero,
hand me those scissors, stud muffin then break open that CPR kit. Chances are we're gonna need it."
4
"Jesus, Eddie,"
said Jonathan tensely, "I can barely see the road."
"Slow down if you have
to. This road only goes to one
place," Eddie replied much too calmly to suit Jonathan. Or maybe that was good? Who the hell knows anymore, he finally
decided.
"What if she's not
there?"
"Then we can just go
home," said Eddie, knowing all ready that she was there, and they
weren't going anywhere in the immediate future.
"I think I see
something, or someone, up ahead," Jonathan said, suddenly wishing he had
kept his mouth shut.
"Stop the car,
Jonathan."
"It was probably
nothing, Eddie. Nothing but the
rain."
"I saw it too. Turn off your headlights, Jonathan."
Jonathan did as instructed,
wondering what Eddie was up to.
"Now what?"
Jonathan asked.
"Drive on to where that
car is, what else?"
"But I can't see a
damned thing, Eddie," protested Jonathan.
"Jonathan, it's time
you started using your brain for something besides a sponge to keep your ears
apart. Close your eyes, and use the power. Don't try and figure it all out at once, just the next twenty
feet or so."
"I don't see anything,
Eddie," complained Jonathan.
"We don't have all
night Jonathan, try again," Eddie replied, with an edge of impatience in
his voice. What surprised Jonathan was
there wasn't any sign of the usual reprimanding tone, in fact, Eddie seemed to
be going out of his way to be gentle.
Jonathan tried again.
"I don't know
Eddie. I don't think it's
working."
"Try again,
Jonathan. I know you can do it.
It's in you, just like me. Trust
me, you'll see."
Jonathan
tried one more time. Really tried. He wasn't even sure why he was making the
effort. Except that he was becoming
more curious. Curious about the
possibilities if what Eddie said was true.
That he really did have
the power too. More than just being some kind of human radio
transmitter/receiver. Several seconds
later, Eddie's voice broke through his deep concentration. He found himself upset at the intrusion,
because for a fleeting moment, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he had seen
something.
"Damn it Eddie! I almost had it."
"Too bad we're not in
Nebraska playing horseshoes, Jonathan.
I could give you a point for being close. You either had it, or you didn't. It's that simple, bro," Eddie stated firmly, but
gently. Then he raised his voice, and
began speaking very fast.
"Do you know what's up
ahead, or am I just wasting my precious time?
Tell me what you see, Jonathan, right now, don't even think about it,
just tell me damn it!"
Eddie's sudden rapid-fire
outburst shocked Jonathan and he instantly felt his ears and cheeks grow hot
from embarrassment. He didn't give a
damn if no one was around to hear him get put down by Eddie. He decided he was going to show that little
son-of-a-bitch right now that he wasn't as dumb as he thought he was.
"It goes straight for
about fifteen feet and then slowly turns to the right!"
"And…?"
"Then it straightens
out again for the next hundred feet or so," said Jonathan to his own
surprise, without a shadow of doubt.
"Exactly, bro."
"What?"
"You're exactly
right. You can do it, Jonathan.
Unfortunately, I'm the only one in this car with the sense to realize
it. Can we get moving now? The lesson's over."
"Okay. Right Eddie. So do I keep my eyes closed, or what? I mean, I don't really know how to work this yet."
"Open one, close
one. I don't really care. Let's just get going. You're the one behind the wheel, and I trust your judgment dude. And Jonathan, from here on out, it's Triple
E, bro. Got it?"
"Got it."
"Got what?"
"Got it, Triple
E," returned Jonathan smartly, not feeling bad for having said it for the
first time in his life.
"That's my man. Now let's go."
5
Janice watched as the cars
headlights went out. A little later she
felt, rather than saw, it was still approaching. Granite was right. It had
to be Eddie and Company. She rolled her
window down all the way, and her left side was drenched within seconds. No biggy, she thought to herself. There was really no place to have a covered
picnic around here anyway, getting totally soaked was going be part of the
bargain. If all she got from this mess
was a case of pneumonia, she'd have beat the odds-makers by an overwhelmingly
profitable margin.
She laughed to herself at
the thought. A gambler she was
not. Her one and only trip to Reno on a
thirty-dollar fun flight had ended up costing her two weeks pay, a missed
flight, and the biggest hangover she had ever experienced. Free drinks had a way of doing that to her,
she acknowledged, and God could she use one of those now. She didn't care what kind of rotgut it was,
as long as it was at least eighty-proof.
"Where's Poncho Villa
when you need him," she chuckled nervously to herself, thinking about the
time she had bought a half gallon of cheap Poncho Villa tequila. That had been her second worst hangover.
She quickly focused on the dilemma at hand, as she heard the car in front of her crunching the oyster shells on its way to what could only be the final showdown. Now was the time to panic if she was still going to have the time to do it. To her surprise, a sudden calmness set over her as she flashed back to a story her martial arts instructor had once told her. It played back in her head as if she was watching a high-speed video.
6
Janice,
you worry too much about what you cannot do, and focus only on the reasons you
perceive to be obstacles to your goals.
I must tell you a story; perhaps you will gain the wisdom you need to
overcome your inner fears in the future.
There
once was a boy who was born with only one arm.
His left arm was totally missing.
There was no stub even to attach an artificial one. As he grew, the children around him
exploited his physical misfortune and being tormented by them became a way of
life for him. Upon his mother's
insistence, he was enrolled in the town's only martial arts school. There, the boy learned many of the lessons
in life that he so desperately needed, such as discipline and respect for
others. Yet all through the first year
of instruction, his master only taught him one martial arts move.
When
the boy asked his master why he would not instruct him in any of the exercises
the other children were learning, the master simply replied that he had been
shown all that he would ever need to know, only he must strive to perfect the
one move that the master had shown him.
The child obeyed, and continued to work diligently at his master's
instruction.
Then
came the day when the master announced that five of his best students would be
traveling with him to a far off city, to enter a grand tournament of martial
arts. To his surprise, and eventually
greatest of fears, the boy was one of the five chosen. Most of the other students felt that special
attention was being paid to the boy, but none expressed their feelings out
loud, for fear of incurring the wrath of the master. The boy knew of their feelings, and questioned the master on the
way to the event.
"Master,
I am deeply humbled by your decision, but I am afraid that I will only shame you. There must be better students to take on
this trip. I only know one
exercise."
"Have
you studied it well, as I have taught you?"
“Yes,
master. I can do it in my sleep."
"Then
perhaps you feel that I have made an error in judgment?"
"I
mean no disrespect, master."
"I
have taught you all that you need to know.
If you have the heart of a warrior, you will succeed."
"Yes,
master," replied the boy.
In
his first match, the boy won easily after applying the one move his master had
taught him. His confidence grew.
In
his second match, it took much longer, but again he succeeded.
By
the time of the third match, the final match for the honor of being the best
first year student, the boy approached his master again.
"Master,
I am grateful for this chance to make you proud, but I am afraid. How can I defeat this person, with only one
move, and no left arm?"
"Have
I not told you that it is all that you need to know, this one exercise, or are
you having a difficult journey in finding the heart of a true warrior?"
"I
will do my best, master."
"That
is all one warrior can ask of another.
But you must believe, before you can do your best. Do you believe? Do you believe you have the heart of a warrior?"
"We
will see, master."
"Yes,
we will see. It is time."
As
the one armed boy entered the main arena, he ignored the crowd that had come
see him fight. He ignored the screams
of the fans for his opponent, he ignored the cheers of his fellow teammates,
focusing only on the one exercise he knew, and the belief that he had begun to
have in it. Unfortunately, his opponent
had also seen the only move the boy had, and avoided it throughout much of the
match. No matter how hard his
counterpart tried, the boy struggled out of any attempt by his opponent to
engage in warfare. Finally, out of
frustration, the opponent charged the boy, and he executed the only move he
knew perfectly and with such faith, that his rival ended up flat on his back. The match was over.
The
one armed boy didn't celebrate his victory, but chose to instead to walk over
to his master, where he bowed and acknowledged his respect to his instructor.
"You
were right, master. I did exactly as
you showed me, as you had me practice a thousand times. But how did you know I would succeed?"
"I
did not know that you would succeed.
You decided that, with the heart of a true warrior."
"But
with only one move?"
"Yes. You felt inferior to the others because you
lack one arm, am I right?"
"Yes,
master."
"But
you overcame the challenge."
"Yes,
master. Because of the heart of the
warrior?"
"In
part, yes. But more important, you used
your weakness against them, and to your own advantage."
"How
is that, master?"
"The
exercise I taught you, the one you learned so well, is the only one you
needed."
"Why
is that, master?"
"Because
there is only one defense against what I have shown you."
"What
is that, master?"
"To
grab the opponent's left arm."
7
Janice had never forgotten
the story, and now she was beginning to understand what the weakness was that
she would somehow have to turn to her advantage. She got out of the car, and walked out in front of the Nissan,
stopping in a defiant stance, hands on her hips. The wind and rain threatened to blow her over, but instead she
drew strength from them, and found herself standing even taller.
The Ford came to a halt
inches in front of her. She looked
through the front windshield as the wipers gave her a temporary glance into the
car, and saw Jonathan with his eyes closed.
“You can open your eyes,
Jonathan,” she transmitted. “You're
here now. Just remember what I told
you, and otherwise, stay the fuck out of the way.”
“You hear that bro?”
transmitted Eddie for all to hear who could.
“We got us a three-way party line going here. More like a conference call.
And we don't even have to get wet.”
Jonathan snapped his eyes
wide open but could barely make out the person standing in front of his
car. Instinctively, he turned on the
headlights.
"Janice," Jonathan
said out loud, half out of surprise of seeing her so close to his car, and half
out of awe. To him she looked liked
some kind of female warrior out of a low budget Conan movie, albeit without the
oversized breasts and token skimpy armor.
Her face had changed little over the years, but her eyes were definitely
not those of the frightened young woman/child he had last seen so many years
ago.
“Why don't you come in and
join us, Janice? There's plenty of
room, and you look awfully wet,” asked Eddie via their mental modem.
“No thanks. I'm sure the air is fresher out here. You could always join me, Eddie.”
“I'll pass, but suit
yourself. Your father's here, you know,
though I'm afraid he's passed out at the moment.”
“That'll work for me right
now, as long as he's in one piece.
How's dad, Jonathan?”
“He's fine, just like Eddie
said.”
“Like Eddie said?” asked
Janice. “Don't you mean like Triple E said?”
“Come on, Janice,” pleaded
Jonathan. “Why do you have to start
some crap like that?”
“Oh, I don't know. Just a hunch, I guess. What do you want us to call you, Eddie? I mean, Triple E.”
“Always the smartass, aren't
you Janice? It's good to see that some
things never change. You can call me
anything you wish, it's your
party. But to move on, if we can, let
me ask you a little question. I'm here,
your father's here, Jonathan's here, so where's the fire?”
At first it threw Janice off
that Eddie was being so calm and courteous, but she had no doubt that his
ulterior motives were no more honorable than her own. This meeting would not end with chit-chat between disagreeing
siblings.
“Cute Eddie, real cute. Where should I start, Jonathan?”
“Huh?” replied Jonathan,
secretly hoping he wouldn't have to participate at all in the conversation.
“Something happened today
that started this whole ball of shit rolling, and it sure wasn't me.”
“Well, I guess I just got
confused. I'm awfully uptight these
days, especially this close to elections,” said Jonathan, not quite believing
what he was saying, or that he was in this situation. Eddie had been right. He
didn't have what it takes to handle the messy stuff. He was the 'on camera' guy, the public guy with the charisma and
the policy. All he wanted to do now was
go back to Olympia and forget the whole thing, if that were possible. The knot in his stomach argued that it
probably wasn't.
“Jonathan's not totally to
blame, I assure you,” added Eddie, trying to bolster his brother more than fool
his sister. “I've been a mess myself
lately. I've pushed him awfully
hard. And I've tried to kind of scare
Jonathan into being more aggressive, which I can see was a mistake on my
part. I'm truly sorry, Jonathan.”
“You buying this crap,
Jonathan?” asked Janice incredulously.
“I don't know, I guess. It makes sense to me. As much sense as anything else does right
now.”
“Great. Just fucking great! What about Luke? Remember Luke?”
“He, he pulled a gun on
Eddie, and, and, well I guess…”
“It's okay Jonathan. Just relax,” said Eddie kindly.
“Yeah Jonathan, just relax,” added Janice sarcastically,
realizing that she had lost her brother to the demon with the forked tongue and
matching tail.
“Janice, I know it sounds
weird, but Eddie only acted in self-defense.
I didn't believe it at first either, but the more I think about it…
“You mean the more Eddie helps you think about it, don't
you?”
“It was crazy, I'll
admit. But I think dad had Luke all
worked up before we even got there.
They had both been drinking all day.
The next thing I know, Luke comes out of the back room with a gun and is
threatening to shoot Eddie.”
“Just like that?”
“Well, not exactly, but, I
don't know anymore. It all happened so
fast,” Jonathan said as if just waking from a coma.
“What's Dad got to say about
all of this?”
“He's much too drunk to even
know what day it is, let alone know what is really happening from one moment to
another,” interjected Eddie.
“How convenient,” countered
Janice.
“Don't take my word for it
sister. Ask him yourself. If you can get him to wake up,” replied
Eddie, wanting her to at least get out of those headlights. Even to him, she seemed to have a much more
powerful image standing there in the rain with her hands on her hips, wet hair
blowing in the wind. The whole scene
made her look surrealistic, almost as if the light was coming from within her
instead of just a reflection of her glistening wet skin. There was no doubt in his mind that he would
destroy her when the time came, but he needed to finish winning Jonathan over
first if all of his plans for the future were to be salvaged.
“I think that I'll do just
that, Eddie. You just stay where you
are. Both of you,” she commanded without voice. She walked to the passenger side of
Jonathan’s car. When she opened the
door and the dome light came on, she glanced at Eddie first, ignoring both her
brother and her father.
"See? There's nothing to be afraid of,
Janice," said Eddie peacefully and aloud this time. Jonathan felt a wave of relief as the two
returned to speaking as most humans did.
Although he could do it, the mind-thought conversations were a terrible
strain on his mental attitude.
One look at Eddie and
Jonathan told Janice everything she needed to know, but she knelt down and
raised her father's head with both hands.
The sudden gush of cold air, wind and rain, coupled with the touch of
her now frozen fingers roused him.
"Dad, can you here
me? It's your daughter, Janice. You've got to wake up now, okay? Come on daddy, please wake up."
"I don't think daddy's gonna wake up, Janice. He's had enough to drink to water forty
acres of primetime Nebraska cornfield," Eddie chided.
Janice ignored Eddie, and
began gently slapping her father's face.
He rolled his head back and forth a couple of times then began to cough
a little.
"It's useless, I'm
telling you," added Eddie passively, quite sure that his father was out
for the count.
"Eddie's right,"
reinforced Jonathan, "Let him sleep.
He's had a rough day."
She continued to ignore both
her brothers and began shaking her father by his shoulders. She was gentle at first; then she shook him
harder and still harder.
"Wake up dammit!"
she shouted, as she slapped him across the face so hard she stung her frozen
hands.
"Wha…" her father
uttered, eyes blinking open for a second and then closing again.
She slapped him again.
"What the hell?"
Thomas spat out, covering his eyes with his arms.
"I don't really have
time for this abusive reunion between a passed out drunk and his insensitive
daughter, do you Jonathan?" asked Eddie quickly.
"The hell you
don't!" shouted Janice. "I'm
gonna hear what he's got to say, and so is Jonathan. You might as well sit back in your seat and shut the fuck up,
Edward Eugene Engelhart!"
Hearing his full birth name
used again for the first time in years brought Eddie to the verge of instant
rage. It had just as intense of an
effect on Jonathan, but his was more of an instant awakening from whatever
spell he had been under. Janice ignored
both, and focused on the effect it might have on her father. Not entirely to her surprise, he snapped up
almost straight in his seat.
"I don't know who you
think you are Missy, but don't you ever mutter the name of that son of a
devil's whore again as long as I live!"
"It's me, daddy!"
The old man blinked twice,
then again, as if to shake the cobwebs caused by the sudden light, his immanent
hangover, the recent past, and the years gone by. It was too much for him to handle, and he began crying.
"Janice, is that really
you?" he asked between sobs.
"Yeah, daddy, it's
me," she whispered, giving him a big hug.
"It's me, and everything's going to be all right."
Thomas hugged her back then
suddenly pushed her away. He turned his
head to his left, where a teary eyed Jonathan sat speechless. Then he turned to where Eddie was sitting. Without turning to face his daughter, he
spoke as loud and clear as any sober man who had ever walked the face of the
Earth.
"Janice, I love
you. Now I want you to leave. Run from this place as fast as you can, and
don't look back. Forget about me, your brother
Jonathan, and this piece of scum that's unfit to be used for toilet paper on
Judas's ass."
"Dad, I'm afraid I
can't do that," came the strong voice from behind his back.
"Don't be foolish,
Janice. This sorry slime I once called
my son is a cold blooded murderer!" shouted Thomas, as tears of anger and
frustration rolled down his cheeks to mix with the rain pouring through the
open door past Janice's head.
"I know Dad, I
know," Janice said sadly, but firmly, feeling the pain that her father
must be going through after ignoring everything all these years and seeing his
best friend killed.
"You know what?"
asked Jonathan, eyes wide open like the proverbial deer in the headlights.
"The truth, Jonathan. God’s awful truth! What Aunt Louise
knew; what Lt. Taylor knew, what Mr. and Mrs. McNalley knew, what Patti Warner
knew, and what Luke knows… now. What
God only knows how many others else know, and what you really know too,
Jonathan, if you ever really
stop to think. Face it, you're brother
is a killer of innocent human beings.
What's worse, he has no guilt.
No remorse. Dad's right,
Jonathan. Eddie is a cold-blooded
murderer, and you need to wake up and face that fact before it's too
late!"
"Too late for
what?" Jonathan asked.
"To save your own ass,
silly," said Eddie, matter-of-factly as if they were really on some kind
of wonderful picnic at the beach.