The Blossoming: The Third book in The Green Man Series

by Sharon Brubaker

  Sylvia was confused. Who was he? Why was he here? He was scary, but he was also odd. He smelled funny, almost like ammonia. He was sweating, profusely. Much, much more than needed, even on this hot, humid, summer’s day. She wrinkled her nose.

  “What are you starin’ at?” he asked her.

  Sylvia hesitated.

  “Answer me!” he screamed at her and just stopped shy of hitting her again.

  He was rail thin, almost emaciated. He seemed really, really nervous. She had heard of home invasions, but nothing like that had happened in this area, as far as she knew. She knew of some drug stings, through Joe, but North Bay and Bayside were still pretty nice places to live, without a lot of crimes. Or so she thought.

  He leaned over her again. Sylvia saw bruises on his arms and it looked as though his skin was turning black on his fingers and his hands. It didn’t look like dirt.

  “Answer me,” he growled, in a low and savage growl.

  Frightened, Sylvia squeaked, “Why are you here? If you’re robbing me, take anything you want!”

  He sneered at her. “I’m not a thief,” he told her, “But, thanks for the offer, anyway.” He was jumpy and looked out the windows and at the door. “I’m here because you saw us. You could identify us. My boss doesn’t like that.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sylvia said.

  “You saw us!” he screamed, grabbing a fist full of her shirt and dragging her to her knees. His scream in her ear blocked her hearing for a minute. Her ears rang. He got her off balance and she slumped to her knees, nearly falling over.

  “Where?” Sylvia said, completely puzzled.

  “On that damn boat,” he said.

  Sylvia’s eyes widened at this.

  “Near Worton Creek?” she whispered.

  “Now, you’re getting it,” he sneered at her.

  “You’re a drug smuggler? From Mexico?” she asked incredulously.

  “Baby, I’m not from Mexico or Central America. Our stuff is purely homegrown,” he told her, almost proudly.

  She was naïve about drug use. The thought of heroin and the needles totally freaked her out. She really didn’t know a lot about recreational drugs, other than the pot smoke that occasionally seeped out of one of the rooms in the dorm on campus.

  He was sweating more now, and his pupils had dilated. He clutched at his chest as if he could slow down his heartbeat. She saw his pulse had increased and was throbbing in his neck. She wondered if he was going to have a heart attack.

  “Flakka,” he told her. “Better than PCP. Better than angel dust. You can eat it, vape it, smoke it, snort it, inject it. It’s cool, baby. And, it turns me into Superman! I am invincible!”

  He was serious. He was terrifying.

  “I don’t understand,” she quavered.

  “You saw our operation! We’re bringing the thrill of Flakka to the North East!” he told her, “and you and your boyfriend saw us. My boss doesn’t want anyone getting in the way on our way to being millionaires.”

  “But, we didn’t see you!” Sylvia insisted in a panicked voice, “It was dark! All we saw were red flashlights! There’s no need to hurt us. I’ll never tell! We really don’t know anything!”

  “I have my orders,” he told her darkly. “I am to make you disappear.”

  Sylvia closed her eyes for a moment. She wondered what time it was.

  “But, my dog,” she started to say, “why,” but, grief captured her voice.

  “Yapped too much,” the man told her quietly. He turned his eyes on her that had dilated even more. They were evil eyes, with no light whatsoever.

  Sylvia thought of the Green Man and what he said recently, about manifesting good things. How could she do this? She was so very frightened. She saw Percy’s still body on the floor and couldn’t think. Her head pounded from where he had hit her.

  He was sweating more profusely now and looking crazier. Sylvia wondered if he had a fever. He was making a weird sound in his throat and tearing at his clothes. He started to tear off his clothes. She stared.

  Then she remembered. Her reality. She thought about her Green Man.

  And he was there, the vast, great, green, angel of a figure. He was there, and he stood in front of her protecting her from the crazy man who had ripped off his clothes and had run from the house screaming at the sight of the Green Man.

  The man ran into the water, shouting and yelling. Sylvia could hear the word ‘monster’ screamed from his mouth. The Green Man turned to her, but before he could say anything, Sylvia heard someone at the door. The Green Man disappeared in a rustle of leaves.

  “Help!” Sylvia sobbed. “Help!”

  Joe burst in. His weapon was drawn. He checked to see if Sylvia was all right but glanced out the French doors at the man writhing in the water. Another cop was coming in the back door. Another was coming around the side of the house. The man in the water was having a seizure. Joe and the other cop ran down to the beach. They pulled the man out and his body flopped wildly on the ground. Joe reached on the ground to put something between his teeth, but the man was frothing blood at that point. His body seized again and then lay still. Joe checked for a pulse. He shook his head. He went back to Sylvia.

  Joe cut the ropes and helped her to sit on the couch. He rubbed her feet and ankles and hands. She couldn’t talk. More police and an ambulance arrived. Carol came in with Owen. Sylvia looked at Percy again and reality hit her. Percy was dead. He was gone. Forever. Sylvia passed out as Owen cried out her name.

  She wasn’t out long. The paramedics held smelling salts under her nose and Sylvia came to, coughing and choking at the smell. The questions began. Owen brought her a shot of scotch. Sylvia sipped and choked. Joe was patient.

  While she gathered herself, Joe told her Owen and Carol knew something was wrong when she didn’t answer the phone calls or texts. Carol had called Joe and he had responded and had back up. He didn’t know what he would be walking into. Sylvia glanced at his pale face. Realization hit her that he didn’t think he would find her alive.

  Sylvia told her story of the day, what she knew of the man, and why he had come to the house. She shuddered. Joe probed gently. Carol brought her ice to put on her head. The paramedics checked her out and thought she should go to get an x-ray to see if she had a concussion. Sylvia shakily said she would be okay. Joe probed with more questions. In a few hours, everyone had gone.

  In bed, Owen held her as closely as he could. Sylvia couldn’t stop shuddering.

  “What next?” she said to him. “What’s going to happen when they realize that guy failed? Do you think we’re still in danger?” she asked Owen.

  “I think Joe’s going to do his best to protect us,” Owen said. “Probably no privacy,” he sighed, “but, we’ll be protected.”

  “Percy,” she whispered. “Poor Percy. He was trying to protect me!”

  “I know,” Owen said. “I know.”

  The tears started to come, slowly at first. Owen held her as sobs wracked her body. She cried until she was asleep.

  Chapter 29

  “You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life.”

  Winston Churchill

  Sylvia woke up feeling as though she had been on a drinking bender. Her head throbbed and her face was sticky with the tears she had shed. No cold nose woke her this morning. She was going to begin to cry again but stopped herself.

  “Owen,” she said gently, “Owen! Are we going to work today?”

  He groaned, “I don’t want to,” he said, “but, I think we should.”

  “I agree,” she told him. She didn’t want to, she couldn’t spend the day in the house today.

  Sylvia went to the shower and stood under the spray for a long time. Owen knocked gently on the door and still, she jumped.

  “Coffee,” he said, “just coffee.”

  Sylvia went to get dressed while he had his turn in the shower. They went downstairs together. Someone had picked
up Percy’s body and had cleaned the spot where he had lain in his own blood. She couldn’t look at it. Outside an unmarked police car was parked, stolid in their watch. Sylvia picked up her purse and they went out the door.

  Carol was shocked when Sylvia walked into the office.

  “Sylvia! What are you doing here?” she asked her aghast. “You should be at home!”

  “And do what?” Sylvia asked bitterly. “Cry? Wait for another crazy person to try to come to kill me? Anyways, it’s probably safer to be here at work.”

  Carol was quiet, but eventually she nodded in agreement, and then said, “Yes, you’re right.”

  Sylvia went through her tasks woodenly. She was grateful Mr. Carter was at another division for meetings. She didn’t want to see people or answer questions. Owen brought lunch to her in the office. They ate quietly. Carol left them alone.

  At the end of lunch, she knocked quietly on Sylvia’s office door. “Syl? Owen?” They looked up at her.

  “Joe’s going to come by,” she said, gently. “He has a little information.”

  “Okay,” Sylvia said, “Thanks.”

  Owen gave her a kiss. “Call me when he comes, all right?”

  Sylvia and Carol nodded at his request. Sylvia couldn’t concentrate. She put her head down on her desk, wondering how Owen was staying awake. He had been awake most of the night, listening and waiting for something to happen. There was a knock on her door. She lifted her head and there was Joe.

  “Hi Sylvia,” he murmured. “How are you doing?”

  She shrugged, in response, not able to trust her voice.

  “I see,” he said. “Owen’s on his way. Are you okay, if I come in and sit down?”

  Sylvia nodded. Joe sat. He put his hand over hers and squeezed. They didn’t talk while they waited for Owen. He arrived. He sat. Owen and Sylvia looked at Joe. There was a hint of pleading in their eyes.

  “The man that attacked Sylvia yesterday was under the influence of Flakka,” Joe told them.

  “Flakka?” Owen asked.

  “What’s that?” Sylvia asked.

  “It’s a new sort of designer drug. It’s very, very dangerous. It’s cheap and easy to manufacture. It can be smoked, snorted, vaped, chewed and ingested in almost any way you can think of,” Joe began.

  “That’s what that man said,” Sylvia said faintly, “He said he felt like Superman.”

  “Yes,” Joe agreed. “It gives one the feeling of superhuman powers, paranoia, and an elevated body temperature. And,” he hesitated, “sometimes extreme violence without remorse. Flakka is making its way North from Florida, Kentucky, and Tennessee. It’s easy and cheap to manufacture. A hit is only five dollars on the street. You can even get a free sample online!”

  “Shipped in a plain, brown wrapper, no doubt,” Owen interjected acerbically.

  “Exactly! Whoever this guy worked for is trying to bring it to the I-95 corridor.” Joe took a breath and continued, “They moved their operation out of the Fairlee and Worton Creek area after you stumbled on them. We’re looking and the Coast Guard is looking. The problem is that the Chesapeake has thousands of small coves, tributaries, and possible points to marinas and nearby roads.” Joe sounded frustrated.

  “How did they find us?” Sylvia asked, finding her voice.

  “Someone saw the name of your boat. All boats are registered. It was a pretty easy way to find you,” Joe told her.

  “Now, what?” Owen asked. “How are you going to find them?”

  Joe tugged at his very short, blonde hair. “I don’t know yet,” he said. “We’re working on it. That’s the only news I have.”

  Sylvia closed her eyes. “But, we didn’t even see anything! Just some red flashlights in the dark!” Sylvia argued.

  “Sylvia,” Joe said gently. “They don’t care. They know you were there. They are paranoid. They are violent. You are in danger. They do not care if you die,” he finished unswervingly.

  They were quiet for a few minutes.

  “Owen,” Sylvia whispered, “if they haven’t caught these people by the wedding, I don’t think I want to go sailing for our honeymoon. I think these bad guys might blow us out of the water and never look back.”

  Joe looked at Owen, “Smart lady. She’s right, you know.”

  Owen groaned, “Catch them, Joe. Catch them.

  “I’m trying, bro,” Joe told Owen, “the Narcotics team and the Coast Guard are working together. It’s probably inevitable, but they do not want Flakka in this area. We’ve heard stories from other precincts…” his voice trailed off. “They’re not pretty,” he said in a very quiet, very firm voice.

  “Smuggling, and in particular, drug smuggling in the last century, on the bay, happens all the time,” Joe told them.

  “But, I don’t hear about it in the news,” Sylvia protested.

  “Nor will you,” Owen answered her drily, “we only listen to what they want us to hear. That’s why I listen to NPR and look at news from other news agencies in the world.”

  “There’s been a little bit out about Flakka,” Joe told them. “You hear more about it in Florida. I’ve seen small news pieces on the national news, but really blips in comparison to other news. There was a short piece in the USA Today newspaper a couple of months ago. It’s coming out more and more as the drug gets more popular. These amphetamine things hit peaks and valleys in popularity. The effects of this one, though, are really scary. The violence…” his voice trailed off again. He stopped as if he had said too much and stood, shaking his head and putting his cop face on.

  “What’s next?” Owen asked.

  Joe looked at both of them. “Try to continue on as normally as possible. We’ll be watching over you two as well as we can,” he told them.

  “I feel like shark bait,” Sylvia said.

  “I won’t sugar coat it,” Joe said, “In some ways, you are. You two are the information link about these guys coming up the Chesapeake.”

  Joe left. Owen and Sylvia sat in silence.

  “You okay?” Owen asked, rubbing her back.

  “As okay as I can be,” Sylvia answered, “and you?” she asked him.

  Owen shrugged. Both Sylvia’s and Owen’s eyes widened at this gesture. It didn’t cause him pain. A smile broke out on his face at being able to shrug pain-free.

  “It’s those little things,” Owen said. “We’ll be okay,” he told Sylvia.

  Owen went back to his office to get his things. The afternoon had flown by. Carol came in to check on Sylvia.

  “How are you doing?” she asked carefully.

  “As well as I can be, I think,” she told her friend. “It’s just so frustrating to—to be so helpless in all of this. It’s just a wait and see, sort of thing on this end. But, I’m a little paranoid.”

  Sylvia became quiet, but she had to ask. “What happened to Percy?” she asked Carol.

  Carol took a shaky breath, “We took the body to be cremated,” she told Sylvia. “Joe and I did.”

  Sylvia stood to hug her friend. “Thank you,” Sylvia said, trying not to cry.

  Carol began to tear up and pulled from Sylvia’s hug to get a tissue.

  “Let’s lock up and get out of here,” Carol said.

  Chapter 30

  “Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets.” Arthur Miller

  Their lives continued on as normal as they could with the police watching their every movement. The wedding was creeping closer and now their honeymoon was up in the air. The True Love had been repaired and anchored where they could see her from their home. Looking at her was bittersweet for both Owen and Sylvia.

  Sylvia felt a hole in her life without Percy. She was sure Owen did too, but he didn’t talk about it. They had agreed to wait to get another pet until after the wedding and honeymoon. But, it didn’t help Sylvia fill her need to be close to something furry in her life. It surprised her, in many aspects, the depth of her need to have an animal in her life.

  At the e
nd of August, Joe and Carol came over with a small, wooden box with an engraved brass plaque. It contained Percy’s ashes. The plaque had the poem “The Rainbow Bridge” engraved on it as well as an engraved photograph of Percy. His name was inscribed under his picture and the phrase “Beloved Friend” beneath his name. Joe and Carol also brought champagne, to celebrate Percy’s life. Everyone toasted Percy solemnly while Sylvia held the box in her lap.

  After the champagne, Sylvia had to ask Joe, “Any more news?”

  Joe shook his head, “What we’re hoping,” he said, “is that these guys will forget about you once they realize you didn’t see anything. They won’t want to draw more attention to themselves. This guy has already made his money,” Joe said with frustration. “He made the drop in Worton Creek. They got it out of there lickety-split when they realized you guys were there. I’m sure it’s been distributed and is on the streets in one of the major cities.”

  “Good for us, I guess,” Owen said. “And, we’ll be able to go sailing on our honeymoon,” he added hopefully.

  Sylvia still looked skeptical, but Joe nodded in agreement to Owen’s suggestion.

  “Yeah,” he said, “I’m feeling pretty confident these guys are long gone. And, so do the other authorities. Not sure if you noticed, but the vigil of people watching you has been dwindling. This Flakka stuff is imported as a chemical. It’s not even illegal in China, where it’s manufactured. We don’t have a lot of control over it. It has the Feds, all the law enforcement agencies, and the Coast Guard in a tizzy. We’re all expecting a storm of this as the storm of crack-cocaine several years ago. With the online samples, and sales, and drugs being manufactured from inexpensive and legal substances, we’re fighting a whole, new, drug war.”

  This news caused them all to be silent again.

  “We need to explain the last couple of weeks to our family,” Owen said gravely.

  The authorities had asked them to keep quiet about the incident, as to not hinder their investigation or draw more people into danger. Owen and Sylvia had become ingenious at skirting questions.