Later the next year, Panama was invaded and Ben wanted to join the Marines. They refused to take him because of his asthma. After that, he scored a job at an auto parts store, working for $3.80 per hour. It worked for them because he had inherited a home in the country that belonged to his grandfather. They moved into it and didn’t have to worry about mortgage payments, just property taxes.
In 1993, they had a son. In 2014 he joined the Marines and was killed by an improvised explosive device. The IED not only killed Ben and Kat’s son, but also took the lives of two of his son’s best friends. Their son, Chris, always talked about the East Coast and how he loved it there. So Ben and Kat decided to have his remains buried at Arlington National Cemetery with his comrades. The trip would be two hundred miles. It was what Chris would have wanted, so they made the arrangements.
Ben retired in 2029 and in 2030, at the age of sixty-nine, Ben lost his struggle with asthma. The government had tightened its control of healthcare, and he just couldn’t afford the rising costs of insurance. In his last will and testament, his request was to be buried in Virginia, as close as possible to his son. He wasn’t a veteran because of his health condition. Ben’s brother, Bill, made the arrangements and took care of everything. After the funeral, Kathleen never heard from Bill again.
Kathleen’s rocking chair was a testament to Ben’s handiwork, like his grandfather, who built the house she still lived in to this day. On these long quiet days, she would rock back and forth and think on these memories. With the presence of a sick woman in her bed, the days seemed longer as she anticipated her consciousness.
“RICHARD!” the young lady called out, waking Kathleen from her sleep and startling her into an episode where she couldn’t breathe.
“Oh dear,” Kathleen called out as she stood from her rocking chair. The crochet hooks and the project she had been working on fell from her lap onto the floor. She ran over to the lady in the bed and checked the condition of her fever. “You’re still hot, you precious thing.” Kathleen went through the regimen of dipping the wet cloth into the bowl of water before squeezing out the excess and folding it neatly upon the sick woman’s forehead. Curious about the condition of the hole in the woman’s chest, she opened the gown and saw she was bleeding through it.
“It’s time for new bandages, sweetie. I hope I don’t hurt you,” she said as she fetched new linens to wrap her in. “I know these aren’t sterilized like the fancy hospitals used to do, but they’ll have to do.” The woman went to work on the lady’s bandages and began to wonder who Richard was. “That’s the first time you’ve called out to Richard. Who is he to you? Is that your boyfriend? Your husband, or maybe your brother?” she asked. She knew there would be no conversation between her and the woman, but it made her feel good to have company again, even if she couldn’t hear her words or answer her questions.
Day Two
It was sometime after midnight, in the early morning hours, when Tori’s haunting dream came back to visit her again.
“CHARITY! AMELIA?” Tori called out in a nightmarish scream from the bed she was on. It startled Kathleen, who came running to the lady’s rescue. Out of breath and finding it hard to breathe, Kathleen arrived at the lady’s bedside and caressed her face and forehead. She began talking to the woman in a soft voice.
“It’s okay, my girl. It’s okay. Go back to sleep. Shh, shh, shh,” she would say to the hot-feeling woman. She shushed her back to a calm sleep and stroked her hair. All the while, she couldn’t breathe. She slowly backed up to the rocking chair and sat down on it and relaxed herself until she had regained her calmness and her breathing eased.
The sun came shining through the window with a soft and warm glow. It shined on Tori’s face and gave her the appearance of an angel. Kathleen loved to watch the sun come up, but she especially loved to watch the sun touch the skin of this beautiful but enigmatic woman that was lying on her bed. She took in the moment to bask in her young beauty and admired her long brown hair. Kathleen didn’t falter at the chance to brush it. She pulled a hairbrush out of the nightstand next to the bed and brushed the woman’s hair. She looked at her closed eyes and could see she was deep in some dreamland in a faraway place. Her eyes were darting back and forth beneath her eyelids. Tori was back in Belleville, and Amelia was brushing her hair. “You’re doing good, baby,” Tori said aloud. Kathleen stopped brushing and Tori’s eyes stopped moving.
“My goodness, I think you’re coming to,” Kathleen said. She took the wet washcloth and dabbed Tori’s head. That was when she felt her fever was gone. A smile spread across Kathleen’s face. It was the first time she had smiled in months.
“You take as long as you need to rest up,” Kathleen said.
Tori’s eyes popped open and she jumped up out of the bed. The surprise scared Kathleen, who lost her breath and fell backwards. Fortunately, she tripped and fell back into her chair. Tori was also stumbling. She had not eaten in days, and the sudden rush to her feet made her dizzy. She fell over and hit her head on the nightstand. She went into a fetal position on the floor, and Kathleen rushed to her side.
“Are you okay, my dear?” Kathleen asked.
Tori didn’t answer the woman, but took notice that they appeared to be alone in a small house and that the elderly woman had strenuous breathing.
“Forget about me, how are you?” Tori asked.
“I’m fine, beautiful, I’m just a little sick. I’ll be okay in a minute.”
Tori helped the elderly lady back to her rocking chair and aided her into position.
“It’s a funny thing,” the elderly lady said.
“What is?”
“I’ve been nursing you for three nights and two days, and here you are, helping me to my rocker.”
“Who are you?” Tori asked.
“Oh, I’m just an old woman who loves a little company.”
“Where am I?”
“You’re in Virginia, sweetie. Not too far from D.C.”
“I don’t remember you, should I?”
“I found you just outside of my house. You have a serious wound. It looks like a bullet hole, but I can’t be certain. I think it passed through, unless you were shot twice.”
“I was shot once,” she said, looking down at her bullet wound. Tori had a nightgown on that was open in the front. When she noticed her indecency, she quickly closed it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even know …”
“It’s okay, dear. It’s just us ladies here.”
“You’re alone here?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. My husband left me nearly three years ago.”
“I’m sorry. Men can be a real rip.”
Kathleen giggled. She caught that Tori assumed her husband had left her to go somewhere else. “No, I mean he passed away.”
“Oh, I’m sorry again.”
“Child, there’s no reason to be sorry for everything. The things I have said, you don’t have to be sorry for misunderstanding. It was I who misspoke.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how is it you take care of yourself out here?”
“I live on the vegetables that are growing in my greenhouse. My sweet Ben built it for me. He worked wonders with his hands.”
“Ben was your husband’s name?”
“Yes, and my son’s name was Chris.”
“Where’s he?”
“He passed away in Iraq.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yes, his vehicle hit a mine or something.”
“What branch did he serve in?”
“He was a proud Marine.”
“I’m a Marine, too.”
“Are you now? I thought you had some military in you. You’re a tough girl, a real fighter.”
“If you only knew.”
“Knew what, dear?”
“How much I’ve been fighting. If I told you, you would probably make me leave now.”
“Did you fight for selfish gain?”
“No, I fight to survive.”
>
“Well, my girl, I fight to survive too. You do what you have to do, and I do what I have to do. It’s the way things are.”
“How many people have you murdered?” Tori asked.
“Murdered or killed?” Kathleen asked. “There’s a difference.”
“I used to know a guy that talked like that. He was a preacher named Rory. He used to talk about all the factors that went into his choices. Those factors made up his mind. I don’t know how he came to those decisions so quickly. To me, it takes too much time to calculate. I’m more concrete in my choices. If you try to take my property or my life, I’m going to kill you to save myself.”
“Well, I think that’s what your friend was talking about. Those are factors that have to be considered before taking a person’s life. In today’s age, our belongings keep us alive. If we lose them, we could die. They’re worth fighting for.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”
Tori had forgotten her manners, it had been so long since she had a use for formality. “I’m Tori, by the way.”
The elderly lady smiled again. “I’m Kathleen.”
One Month Later
Tori and Kathleen had become like mother and daughter for the next month or so. Tori went out and did some hunting on occasion, and Kathleen would cook up the meat. The house was situated deep in a Virginian forest about eighty miles from Arlington National Cemetery, and Tori never saw another living person for the duration. It was the perfect place for Tori to settle into and introspect. She was tired and ready to redefine her ambitions and goals.
She deeply missed her husband, Richard, and her two daughters, Charity and Amelia. She would often have nightmares that relived the events of December 1, 2032. Kathleen would be there to awaken her and reassure her that it was just a bad dream.
Kathleen had become Tori’s everything: her mother, her sister, her best friend, her confidante. All those things felt good to Tori. But there was an inner calling that kept punching its way through her newfound life. It was a deep desire to kill predacious people. The calling felt like a gaping black hole in her heart that no amount of bloodshed could close. Tori always ignored the feeling and would often zone out into the great beyond, but Kathleen would be there with a soft voice that lured her back to reality.
“We live in the here and now, Tori,” she would say.
Kathleen knew her time with Tori was coming to an end. Not because Tori was feeling a powerful urge to flee into the dangers of the new world order, but because Kathleen was dying. She could feel it in her body; with each breath, her lungs were getting harder and harder to expand. She never told Tori that she had cancer. Tori knew she had a condition that made it hard for her to breathe, but she assumed it was chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, or COPD as they called it. Kathleen never desired to make Tori worry for her by sharing with her the condition she suffered from, as she could see Tori already had a terrible weight upon her with the death of her husband, two daughters, and countless friends.
Tori would hear Kathleen’s soft voice and return from the bad memories. She would give a smile to Kathleen to acknowledge the respect she had found in such a kind woman, a woman unaffected by the changes of the world other than her ongoing condition that couldn’t be remedied with medicine. In that sense, Kathleen was a victim of the new world. But she was not a victim of the interpersonal evils of mankind.
“Tori, my dear,” Kathleen called out.
“Coming,” Tori would say as she walked towards the sound of Kathleen’s voice.
“My time has come, sweetie,” Kathleen whispered to Tori as she approached her. She was lying on the floor of the greenhouse room. When Tori saw she was on the floor, she broke into a short sprint.
“Did you fall? Are you okay?”
“Child,” she said.
Tori was trying to lift her up a little bit so she could breathe. “I’m here, Kat. I’m here.”
“I know, sweetie. You’re here now, in your body, but your mind is off on some adventure.”
“No, I’m here, with you now,” Tori said, trying to reassure Kathleen that she had Tori’s undivided attention.
“I know you’ve been through a lot, child. I know you’ve lost more than I have, but what you have to understand is … that your drive to do good … has to be focused on helping those in need …”
Kathleen’s whispers were labored and took twice as long to say. Her sentences were full of momentary pauses and slurs.
Tori kept listening to Kathleen’s words.
“You cannot focus on the evil of mankind … It will consume you and the lines will blur … Eventually, it will take you and … you will lose yourself to it … and become that which you hate.”
“You’re going to be okay, Kat. I’m going to get you some help.”
“You’ve helped me more than you can ever imagine, sweetie. My time on this earth is drawing to a close.”
Tori’s eyes were swelling up with tears.
“It’s dark in here,” Kathleen said.
Tori looked around; it was a bright sunshiny day. The sun was shining brightly into the greenhouse room. The only darkness to be seen was at the passing of dear Kathleen. When Tori looked back at her, her life was gone. Tori cried aloud and ran her fingers through Kat’s long gray hair. In Kat’s hand was a small handwritten note.
Tori, you have been my sunshine in darkened days. I have treasured your company more than you may ever know. Under my bed, there is a box for you. It is not locked. —Your loving friend, sister, and companion, Kat.
Tori was now an emotional wreck. She knew how fragile Kat was but had failed to notice the signs of an unavoidable conclusion to her story. She just sat there with note in hand and wept for what felt like an eternity.
When Tori had collected her composure, she stood up and prepared herself for the parting gift. The letter said that there was a box under her bed. She kneeled down beside the bed and lifted the large blanket that hung down off of the bed nearly to the floor. She bent over and looked under the bed. There was a large tan-colored box with fancy metal trim on every corner. The box looked like it was woven with some kind of split bamboo design. She reached in and pulled it out. The box was an old-fashioned suitcase with a locking mechanism and a keyhole.
The note said it was unlocked, she thought as she slid over the button-looking device on the locking mechanism. The lock popped open with a loud thud sound. She gently placed both hands on the corners of the suitcase and raised the lid. The first thing to catch her attention was Bubba, her favorite possession. It had been polished and neatly placed in the suitcase. Tori never even thought to mention Bubba for the duration of her stay with Kathleen; she never felt a reason to have it in her possession. She felt peace when she was with Kathleen, a sense of contentment and security.
Next to Bubba was an envelope that was labeled Dearest Stranger.
Tori picked it up and started to cry again. She knew it was written by Kathleen and addressed to Tori before she had learned her name—perhaps while she was unconscious with the fever. She opened the envelope and pulled out a handwritten letter. It was in cursive, a form of writing that Tori had to teach herself because it was no longer taught in the school systems when she was a child. It read:
Dearest Stranger,
My name is Kathleen Stewart. When I found you, you were half dressed, lying in the woods with a bullet hole in your side. You had no other property than what I have placed in this suitcase. You had such a bad fever that I thought you would surely die if I didn’t help you. I’m not in the best of health, so it took me three hours to pull you into my home and another three to clean you and bandage you. I have some clothes that I think might fit you, but I can’t get them on you right now. I’m afraid I used the last of my strength pulling you inside.
I don’t know if you can hear me when I talk to you, but I shared my life story with you so many times that you’re surely tired of hearing it. They say you can hear people talking to you when you’re u
nconscious and that it’s good for the soul. That’s why I do it.
I do not know if I will be alive by the time you find this, but I wanted you to know that I took good care of your pistol. When I found it, it was caked in soil and had a terrible mildew color.
If you do manage to pull through your fever, and you find it in your heart to do a good deed for an old lady, would you mind taking me to Arlington, VA? There’s a nice little cemetery there where my husband, Ben, is buried. It’s on the northeast corner where they bury relatives of the veterans. I miss him so. Our son is not far from there in the National Cemetery for veterans. He served in the Marines. In return, I would like to bestow upon you my home. It’s sturdy and it doesn’t leak.
I believe, in my heart, that there is good in all people—you just have to touch the right spot. That’s why I want you to have this necklace. It symbolizes goodness and sacrifice. If you’re not a Christian, you can still believe that people are capable of good deeds.
I guess that’s all for now. My hand hurts from all this writing. I’m looking forward to looking into your eyes when they open. You are such a beautiful girl. I hope to meet a beautifully spirited lady when she wakes up.
Your patient caretaker,
Kathleen
Tori found the necklace and held it up for a better look. It was a 24-karat solid gold Christian cross and it had a heart weaved around it.
The next several days had Tori preparing for a trip to a place not too far from where she had barely escaped with her life—the District.
She found a flatbed truck with keys sitting on the closest interstate. She drove it back to her new home and prepped Kathleen for her trip to Arlington. Adorning Tori’s neck was the solid gold cross that glistened in the warm sunlight. It was a symbol of human decency and sacrifice. It represented the crazy ideal that there was more to humanity than carnage.
Whiskey Black Book Set: The Complete Tyrant Series (Box Set 1) Page 10
