1
Janice
hadn't been back on the freeway for more than ten minutes when she could sense
that someone was trying to reach her.
She laughed to herself as the signal came and went, barely audible at
times, even weaker at others. Sure
signs of an amateur operator, she told herself. It had to be Jonathan.
She realized that this was probably his first attempt at using the power
that he too must have, and felt a small swell of pride as he entered their
exclusive new world. She quickly helped
him out, by combining her strength with his, and they were instantly locked together.
“Jonathan?”
she asked.
“Thank
God,” he returned.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Still at the tavern,
Eddie's here too.”
She shuddered at the
thought. Jonathan must be scared
shitless. At least she hoped he was.
“Only listen for now,
Jonathan. I'll tell you when to talk,
and then make it a simple yes or no.
You did well getting hold of me, brother. But you're still unfocused and we don't want Eddie to know we're
in touch with each other unless we can't help it.
“Two questions. First, is everyone safe; second, can you get
away? Go ahead and answer.”
“Yes; no,” came the reply.
Damn, she thought to
herself. The extra mileage to the
tavern would add another half hour driving time, at least.
“Did Eddie seem different too
you, run down a little maybe?”
“Yes; yes.”
“Good. I'm going to try and keep him that way.”
“Be careful,” came an
immediate answer, without her prompting.
“Are you afraid he'll go
off?” she sent back.
“Yes.”
“You're doing good,
Jonathan. Just hang in there. I'm going to get hold of Eddie and shake his
tree just enough to let him know that I don't want anything to happen to you or
dad. Okay?”
“Add Luke.”
“Luke?” asked Janice.
“Bartender, friend,” came
his reply.
“You got it Jonathan. I'll call you next time.”
“Yes,” and he was gone.
Poor soul, she thought to
herself. Caught in the middle again,
between her and the Triple E. Too bad he was so much like his father, weak
and ignorant to the truth. Then again,
that was why she probably still loved him so much. She was a good hour and a half away from the tavern. No matter what she said to Eddie, he would
be on his own for a while.
She
decided to wait a bit and collect her thoughts before giving Eddie a call. Janice needed time to think, knowing that
her next conversation with him could be the most important of the day. She gave Granite a pat on the head then
reached for another beer. Although all the
facts and data compiled over the last century proved different, she still
believed she did her best thinking with a cold brew in her hand. She decided now was not the time for her to
try and experiment with any major life style changes. She drank half the beer in the first gulp. Two more gulps and the can was empty.
She
rolled down her window and tossed out the can, feeling guilty as she did. Nothing brilliant had come to mind yet, so
she reached for another Bud Lite, and pushed on to the Pacific Ocean. Every minute was another mile closer, she
told herself, and except for contacting Eddie again, there was nothing she
could do until she got there. The next
hour would be the longest of her life.
2
Cathy
Potter screamed with horror while the last few pieces of what had been the
plane's upholstery landed softly on the beach.
"No-o-o-o-o-o! God, no-o-o! Not Mark," she cried as she ran to where the plane had been.
Hoping
for a miracle, she ran into the water, looking to the left and right, calling
out his name. She thought she saw
something floating out farther in the surf, and rushed toward it. She was up to her thighs in the freezing
saltwater and her hopes were dashed when she realized it was only a seat
cushion.
Her
eyes were full of tears and the cold, stinging wind made it all but impossible
for her to see, but she continued searching as she waded back toward the
sand. She felt something tug at her
pants leg and she screamed again, afraid to look down for fear of finding the
arm of her late husband wrapped around her ankle. When she finally gathered the courage to glance down at her feet,
she was relieved to find that it was only a large jagged piece of aluminum that
had snagged on the material.
She
reached down and pulled it free, noticing that it had also sliced her leg
open. She was still bent over when she
thought she heard a voice. It sounded
far off in the distance, but it sounded like her husband's. Could it be…? She quickly stood facing the ocean, squinting her eyes to try and
focus them. There was nothing there but
the pounding surf. God, I've lost my
husband, now I must be losing my mind, she thought. She heard the voice again, a little louder this time. She cupped her hands together and yelled as
loud as her swollen throat would allow.
"Mark? Is that you?" she called.
She
continued to scan the water, but saw nothing that looked human or alive. She decided to close her eyes and just focus
on her sense of hearing. It seemed like
years before she heard the voice again.
It was definitely louder this time, definitely her husband, but
definitely not coming from the ocean.
It was coming from behind her.
She quickly spun around, not seeing the rogue wave that had been
approaching her. Before she could
refocus her eyes, the wave caught her behind the legs and sent her flying, face
first into the swirling foamy water.
Cathy
flowed with the current, toward the shore, and soon felt her knees bounce along
the shifting sand of the bottom. She lifted
her head and gasped for air as she felt the sand being sucked away beneath her
knees. She fought to her feet, and
stumbled into shallower water. As her
eyes began to function again, she could make out the shape of a man limping
towards her.
"Cathy? Are you all right?" came the voice
again.
"Mark?"
she replied, breaking into uncontrollable sobs as he finally reached her.
"You
were expecting someone else?" he asked as he wrapped his arms around her
and gave her a bone-crushing hug.
"I… I… thought you were
dead, I tried to…"
"Shhhhhh. It's going to be all right. Everything's going to be all right," he
said gently as he guided her to the beach.
"Mark," she said
when they were clear of the water, "you're limping. God, I was so glad to see you alive that I
didn't even think to ask, are you okay?"
"I've
felt better. I think the blast must
have knocked me out for a few seconds, and my knee hurts like hell. Other than that, I'm freezing to
death."
"Me
too. Shit!"
"What?"
Mark asked.
"The
woman! I forgot all about her. We've got to do something before she dies of
shock."
"Him
too," said Mark, nodding over to one of the sheared off wing tips where he
had regained consciousness.
"The
pilot?" asked Cathy.
"Yeah. He's alive, or at least he was a minute
ago. He definitely won't last
long. I think he's lost a lot of
blood."
"We
better go look at him."
"No,
we don't have time for that. I want you
to run back to the cabin, call 911, then get into something warm."
"I
can't do that and leave you here to freeze!" she protested.
"You
can and you will. Their lives are at
stake. It would take me forever to get
to the cabin with this bum knee. Now
go!" he shouted. He patted her on
the butt and shuffled her off toward the trail. "As soon as you make that call, round up all the blankets
you can and hurry back."
"I
love you," she shouted over her shoulder as she took off running.
"I
love you too!" he yelled after her.
He
watched her go until she disappeared over the dunes, then he turned back to the
woman, lying unconscious beneath Cathy's jacket. No sense in trying to do anything for the pilot. Nothing short of a miracle and an emergency
room would do him any good, and Mark wouldn't have gave him one chance in a
thousand even if he had God on his side.
3
When
Jonathan returned from the men's room, Luke was busy behind the bar, Eddie was
eating something out of a little white bowl, and his father was lighting
another cigarette.
"Yo,
Jonathan," said Eddie, as he ripped open a small package of crackers. "You gotta try some of this
chowder. Blows the socks off of
anything that Skipper's ever poured in a cup.
Seems that Luke here is even a better cook than he is a bartender!"
"No
thanks," said Jonathan, adding, "No offense Luke, but me and clams
never seem to hit it off."
"How
about some chili, then? Your dad said
you used to put that away pretty good," asked Luke.
Jonathan's
stomach was in knots from stress, but he also knew he needed to eat. Besides, he thought, it might help to kill time
until Janice could get there.
"Now
I could go for that, if it's not too much trouble."
"Only
go to waste if you don't," Luke lied.
Luke Perry had never thrown out a whole pot of anything in his life.
"I
don't know, Jonathan. Might give you
gas. Wouldn't want that. You got the worst smellin' farts of anyone I
know. Bad for public relations,"
chided Eddie.
"Get
off my back, Eddie," Jonathan said as he sat down at the bar again.
"Get off my back, Eddie," he mimicked.
"God, you sound like Beaver Cleaver, Jonathan. You should relax and drink your beer; we
haven't seen dad in ages, this could be fun.
Kind of like a mini family reunion.
Too bad Janice couldn't be here."
As Eddie spoke those words,
Thomas choked on his brandy, spilling half of it on the bar. He began coughing harshly and reached for
Luke's bar towel to wipe up the mess.
"You
all right, father?" asked Eddie.
"Didn't mean to make you choke."
"Sor… sorry about that
Luke," Thomas managed to get out.
"Don't
give it another thought," said Luke.
"I put six coats of lacquer on this bar top. You could drop it in Willipa Bay for a
hundred years, dredge it back up, and the wood in this baby would be as dry as
a popcorn fart."
"Now
that's the kind of farts you need to have, Jonathan. Popcorn farts! Maybe we
could get a machine put in at the office," Eddie said with a smile as he
looked at Jonathan.
"Speaking
of the office, Eddie," started Jonathan.
"Relax,
dude. I'm sure that everything's being
taken care of. That’s why you hired the
Triple E. Remember? It's all good, bro', chill out. Enjoy our little vacation for now. Just be ready to hit it bright and early
Monday morning. We've got a lot of work
to do."
"We
need to talk about that…" resumed Jonathan, but he was interrupted in mid
sentence.
"Here's
your chili, Jonathan," Luke said, giving him a look he hoped would make
him change the subject with Eddie.
"Four alarm stuff, so you better keep that beer handy."
Jonathan caught the look in
Luke's eyes and tried to focus on the problem at hand. He nodded once to Luke in a show of
understanding.
"Thanks
Luke. Got any more of those
crackers?"
"You
bet," said Luke, "How 'bout you Thomas? Care for something to eat?"
"Yeah,"
replied Thomas numbly, "why not?"
"The
regular?" asked Luke.
"Sure."
"Bowl
of chowder, extra onions, extra butter, coming up. Think I'll have some myself.
How about you Edward? Care for
another bowl?"
"I’d
be most thankful, Luke,” said Eddie. “I
seem to have worked up quite an appetite today. Late nights at the office and cafeteria food seem to have taken
their toll on me, I’m afraid. But it
will all be worth it when we get Jonathan into national politics where he
belongs.”
“We
could sure use a sound thinking man in Washington, from Washington,” added Luke, as he busied himself behind the
bar. “I’ve had enough trickle down
economics and bleeding heart liberal wishy-washy to last me the rest of my
life.”
“We
hope to change all that, don’t we Jonathan?” asked Eddie.
“I’d
like to think so, but one person is only one person. I’ve come to realize it takes a lot of people thinking along the
same lines to get anything accomplished in politics, and that doesn’t happen
too often. Everyone seems to have his
or her own personal agenda. I’m no
different in a lot of ways. That
wouldn’t be so bad if our agendas were those of the people who elected us to
represent them, but that’s rarely the case.
In the end you’re usually just a puppet to special interest groups and
party line politics.”
“Jesus,
Jonathan!” exclaimed Eddie. “You keep
talking like that, and nobody will leave their house long enough to vote.”
“That’s
about where the little people are already, Eddie, in case you haven’t
noticed. You’re good at what you do,
but you spend too much time with the movers and the shakers, as you call
them. Most elections are more of an
attempt at keeping someone out of office than of electing someone they feel
will really make a positive difference.”
“My brother, the reborn
cynic. Just in time for the big push to
the top,” said Eddie.
“Top of what?” asked
Jonathan. “This pile of bureaucratic
bullshit we call democracy?”
“Take it easy Jonathan. Man, you must be more worn out than I
thought, bro’.”
“I’m not worn out Eddie, I’m
just finding it hard to accept being worn in, like a pair of shoes that finally
fits the foot of who ever it is that keeps kicking the ass of this country to
make a few quick bucks!”
“We’ll talk about this
later, Jonathan. Just try and relax for
a while,” said Eddie in a controlling tone.
“I’ve heard enough for you
to get my vote, Jonathan,” said Luke.
“But Eddie’s probably right, take a break from the action for a
while. It will all be waiting for you
when you get back.”
“You’re
both probably right,” said Jonathan.
“How about another beer to help me relax?”
“That’s
more like it, Jonathan,” said Eddie.
“One
refill, comin’ up,” added Luke. “Here’s
your chowder Thomas.”
“Thanks
buddy,” said a solemn Thomas.
“So,
father, how’s life been treating you lately?” asked Eddie. “Must be nice to just while away the hours
here so close to the beach and all.
Nothing like Nebraska.”
Thomas opened a pack of
crackers and crushed them over his chowder.
He seemed to be in no hurry to answer his son. Finally he spoke, as he pushed the crackers down into the chowder
with the wide soupspoon. “Life has been
treating me just fine, thanks.”
“You
living close by?” Eddie inquired with an innocent tone.
“I’m
sure a wise guy like you must already know the answer to that question,
Edward,” Thomas said evenly, holding back the urge to tell his son where he
could put his phony small talk.
“Father,
I’m glad to see you still have that same warm and fuzzy personality that I’ve
missed so much since we last saw each other.
It’s good to see some things just never change.”
“Sometimes
it’s sad to see that some things never change, Edward. Seeing you again is one of those times.”
“Why,
if I didn’t know better, I’d say that you’re not exactly glad to see us,
father,” said Eddie lightly.
"Not
exactly," replied Thomas, pausing to regroup his thoughts, "but
you're here, so I say we try to make the most of it."
"I
agree," said Eddie, "We wouldn't want Luke to think we were totally a
dysfunctional family."
"Let's
leave Luke out of this, shall we?" returned Thomas sharply.
"Kind of hard to do
with him standing three feet away, don't you think father?"
Luke saw the opening he had
been waiting for, and quickly took it.
"Hey look you two,
there's obviously some things you need to work out amongst family, and I got
plenty to do in the back room. I'll
just leave you three to work it out amongst yourselves while I get some things
done in back. Just holler if you need
anything. Thomas, you know how all this
stuff works as well as me. Pour 'em
what they want, my treat."
Luke
turned to walk away when Eddie spoke up.
"Won't need but a few minutes I'm sure, Luke, no need
in running too far," said Eddie with a touch of firmness. Luke ignored his tone of voice.
"Not
a problem, be right in back, take your time," said Luke, as he limped
slowly through the small doorway into the back room.
Eddie
waited a few moments then turned slowly toward Thomas.
"Seems
like a nice enough guy, hope he doesn't try to go off and do anything stupid,
don't you father?"