The Spirit Survives

by Gary Williams Ramsey

  Bo had nothing to eat since the breakfast at Denny’s, and he was famished. He left the suite, making sure the door was secured and that the “do not disturb” sign was on the door handle, went to the drive-through window of a nearby Burger King, and ordered two whoppers, large fries, two side salads with French dressing, and two large Diet Cokes. His next stop was a liquor store where he picked up a fifth of Jack Daniels Black, a quart of Dewar’s scotch and a couple of Ginger Ale mixers. He drove his SUV back to the Residence Inn and unloaded his purchases.

  Bo filled a glass with ice and filled the glass about half-full of the bourbon. He drank it in three gulps and walked up the stairs. Apparently, Leah had awakened and struggled because her wrists had traces of blood where she had strained against the ropes. She was lying still, but her eyes were open.

  Bo said, “Well good morning, sleeping beauty. Did you have a nice restful nap?”

  Leah’s eyes filled with hatred and fright, but she lay still and just stared at him.

  “Listen lady,” Bo grunted, “behave yourself, and you won’t get hurt. I just want to talk to Ben Harris. We can talk about that a little later, but I’m sure you’re as hungry as I am. To show you I’m a nice guy, I brought you some food.” He went back to the kitchen area and put one of the Whoppers and some fries on a plate. He grabbed one of the Diet Cokes and walked back to Leah’s bed. He placed the food and drink on the end table.

  “Okay, I’m going to remove the tape from your mouth and untie your hands so you can eat. If you try to scream, I’ll punch you out and put the tape back on and let you starve. Are we clear?”

  Leah stared at him for a moment and then nodded.

  He sat on the bed and ripped the tape from her lips. A gasp escaped Leah’s lips. He untied her hands but stayed close enough to her that he could subdue her if she screamed. Her feet remained securely tied.

  Leah sat up and rubbed her face. Blood was crusted on the bridge of her nose and her forehead from the blow that knocked her unconscious. She reached over to the end table, got the Coke and took a long drink. She took two bites from the Whopper, chewed slowly, and then laid it back on the end table. “What do you want from me?” she whispered.

  “I want to know where Ben Harris is,” Bo replied.

  “Why are you looking for him?”

  “Listen lady, I ask the questions, and you answer them. Do we understand each other?”

  Leah was silent a moment then replied, “I don’t know where he is. I’m looking for him too. I’m afraid he was hurt in the tornado.”

  Tears streamed down her face, but Bo didn’t care one way or the other about her feelings. He sat for a minute and waited for her to stop crying. When she didn’t, he grabbed her hands and wrapped the rope around her wrists again. He pushed her back on the bed and tied the end of the rope to the headboard. As he reached over to put the tape back over her mouth, she spat in his face. Bo didn’t take that from anyone, man or woman. He roughly pushed the duck tape over her lips and then, without warning, slapped her hard across the face. “If you ever do that again I’ll break your arm.” He picked up the remainder of the food and drink from the end table and threw it in the waste can beside the bed and stormed out of the bedroom.

  Bo went to the kitchen area, took his food and drinks out of the bags and put them on the coffee table. He turned on the TV to David Letterman. He added some scotch to his coke, ate his whopper, salads and fries and watched the show. Bo laughed at Letterman’s sick jokes. Letterman was about the only man who could make him laugh.

  Chapter 24

  “What do you want, Sergey?” Petrov grumbled into his cell phone.

  “Where are you?” Sergey replied.

  “I checked into the Radisson Hotel just across from the Green Bay airport. I plan to go to Lookout Mountain tomorrow.”

  “Okay, I have some information for you. On the day Veronika was shot another man was reported missing on Lookout Mountain. He’s our only lead and I want you to find him. His name is Ben Harris, and he lives with a woman named Leah Hamilton. Their address is the Residence Inn there in Green Bay. Be careful, he’s a former cop. That’s all I have now, but I need you to go to Lookout Mountain and look around for any information you can find and report to me. Then stake out that room at the Residence Inn. The girl may know something of the man’s whereabouts. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah,” Petrov grunted, I’ll call you when I have information.”

  Sergey pushed the end call button on his phone. He seethed with anger, and he wanted revenge. He would spare no expense or efforts to find the killer of his beloved daughter.

  Chapter 25

  I awoke to a smell of death on my sixth day trapped as Cherokee’s ravaged body was beginning to stink. The smell was the least of my worries, since I was almost out of water, and I’d eaten half of the last can of Vienna sausage yesterday. The remaining sausages in the can, without refrigeration, would not be fit to eat after today. Getting food poisoning in my weakened condition would probably kill me and give the wolf fresh meat to feed on. I had to find food, but unfortunately my only food sources in the cave were the rats, the wolf, Cherokee’s body, or the snake.

  I looked at my inventory to consider what I could do with it. The stash had been reduced to the knife, partial pack of Camels, a packet of cocaine, cigarette lighter, a piece of aluminum foil, empty can of sardines, empty can of Vienna sausages, one can with three sausages in it, a cell phone and the backpack. In the backpack were two paperback books, one the Stephen King novel, It, and the other an old Navy Seals handbook.

  After college, I joined the Navy, was trained as a Navy Seal and served as a Seal for three years. The survival training I was given there, I hoped, would keep me alive now.

  Of the food sources available, the snake was the most desirable. The trouble was that locating and killing the snake would be extremely dangerous. Another dose of venom would surely kill me, but the other options were out of the question.

  I inspected the inventory again and devised a plan. The snake had shown that his choice of food in the cave was the rats. I needed to use the rats to capture the snake.

  I carefully mashed the remaining sausages in the empty sardine can. To this I mixed half of the packet of cocaine. I stirred it with the knife and placed half of the mixture in the empty Vienna sausage can. If I simply put out the entire can, hoping the rats would eat it and either go to sleep or die, the wolf might get to it first. I had to first try to sedate the wolf before putting out the rest of the mixture for the rats. I took half of the mixture and crawled toward Cherokee’s corpse. The stench almost made me vomit, but I kept crawling. I heard the deep growl of the wolf as I neared the animal’s food source. I took the mixture out of the can with my right hand and threw it toward the wolf, then retreated to my home base. The wolf sniffed and limped to the food. He devoured it in two bites. He licked the remaining mixture from the rocks and returned to his place.

  All I could do now was to wait to see if the first part of my plan worked.

  Chapter 26

  Petrov checked out of the Radisson Hotel and cursed Sergey as he loaded his suitcase into his rented blue Camry. He wanted a little gambling and whoring, and he knew that with the casino attached to the hotel, both were readily available. In order to stake out the Residence Inn, as Sergey had ordered him to do, he needed to stay there.

  Petrov wasn’t entirely comfortable because he had no handgun. He knew, however, that a butcher knife and his bare hands would suffice. On the way to the Residence Inn, he stopped by Wal-Mart and purchased a large stainless steel knife and a meat cleaver. He also picked up a baseball bat, rope, and a shovel. The other items that he needed were packed in his suitcase and passed through security at the airport with no problems.

  Petrov decided to check into the Residence Inn first, and then go to Lookout Mountain to examine the scene of the murder. He drove to the hotel, parked his Camry, and walked around the L-shaped hotel looking for Suite 107, which Sergey h
ad told him the ex-cop lived in with his girlfriend. He wanted to get a suite overlooking 107, and it appeared that Suite 98 or 101 would be the best locations.

  He walked to the lobby door and entered, walking slowly to the reception desk. He saw a red-head, with a name tag that read Gina, behind the counter sitting at a desk working. She looked up, saw him standing there and smiled. “Hello sir, welcome to the Residence Inn. How can I help you?”

  Petrov just grunted and looked at her. Her smile went away as she saw his scarred face and emotionless eyes. Petrov was imagining slapping her around in bed and getting some raw sex. After a few seconds he said, “I need a suite. Can you give me 98 or 101?”

  A quizzical look came over Gina’s face when he asked about those two suites. She replied, “Another man was here yesterday asking about the same two suites, and I rented him 101. Ninety-eight is available.”

  Petrov said in as calm a voice as he could muster, “What was his name? He may be an associate of mine.”

  “Sorry sir, we can’t give out guest’s names, but he was a very tall man in his fifties with short grey hair. I can call his suite, give him your name, and ask if he wants to talk to you.”

  Petrov sneered. “That won’t be necessary, just put me in Suite 98.” Gina registered him and asked for a credit card.

  “I will be paying in cash. What is the total for five days?”

  Gina added up the bill. “$786.93”

  Petrov counted out $800 and handed it to her. She gave him the change and the room card for Suite 98. Without uttering another word, Petrov took the key card and left the lobby.

  Petrov strolled back to his car, retrieved his suitcase, and went to Suite 98. He entered the suite not noticing anything about it but the bathroom. He dropped his bag on the floor, went to the john and used it. He took a bottle of vodka out of his suitcase, took the small glass off the counter and filled it. He finished the drink in three gulps. As he prepared to pour another drink his cell phone rang. He checked the calling number and recognized that it was Sergey.

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  “Listen Petrov, I have more information for you. I recently received additional input from my contact with the police. The man sent me electronic airline, hotel, and car rental records for several days prior to the murder of my daughter. While my people were checking airline flights and hotel reservations, they found that the day before Veronika’s disappearance and murder, Bo Lopez and Cherokee Alverez flew into the Green Bay airport. They registered at the Radisson hotel for one night. Bo rented a Ford Excursion from Hertz that hasn’t been returned. Bo is a contract killer, working for a couple of Mexican drug cartels. He’s well known in these circles as being ruthless and efficient, and he must have been there on a job. This is too much of a coincidence for me to let it go, do you know Lopez?”

  “No,” Petrov answered.

  “He’s in his 50’s, very tall, with short grey hair. Don’t worry about Cherokee. Bo is the dangerous one who would be in control.”

  “He’s here in the hotel,” Petrov replied, recalling what the pretty desk clerk had told him. “He checked in yesterday to Suite 101. That is directly across from this guy Harris’s room.”

  “Shit!” Sergey exclaimed, “Find out what the hell he’s doing there. It must have something to do with Veronika’s death. Don’t let him get away, Petrov. I want information, and I want it now, do you understand?”

  “I will find out,” Petrov replied.

  Petrov heard the click on the phone as Sergey hung up. He momentarily thought of luring the redhead to his room and forcing some sex, but that had to wait.

  Petrov figured that he would postpone his trip to Lookout Mountain and concentrate on watching Bo Lopez for a while. After a quick breakfast at the lobby buffet, he walked to the parking lot of the hotel. He swiftly located the SUV that Sergey had described and moved his Camry to a good vantage point two rows behind it. He sat in his car and waited for Bo to come out of the hotel. Petrov was a remarkably patient man.

  Chapter 27

  The airplane window framed the clouds; their freeform shapes accommodated my wishes, my dreams. They were simply what I wanted them to be. As in life, they were illusions of stability, with no substance or base, just empty air. Perception is reality, and at this time I perceived the beauty of Leah’s face. However, as in viewing the other wonders in life, the experience crystallized thought.

  The pale blue thought on this lonely airplane trip was the thought of Leah and our love for each other. As the clouds violated the purity of the sky, the thought of Leah pleasantly violated my peace of mind. I wondered how the essence of one human being got into another. How that essence interrupts thoughts. How it constantly lingers on the edge of consciousness, never needing an invitation to be remembered. One’s essence can only enter if freely given and freely received—without demands or expectations—only unconditional mutual trust.

  That part of Leah that she gave me freely is mine. I have placed it behind the protective wall in my mind. It has free access to my thoughts and dreams and feels natural in its hiding place.

  I gazed out the airplane window again and saw that the clouds had scattered, revealing the clarity of the earth—the real world. There are people down there who work, feel pain, love, fear, and happiness.

  Up here, at thirty-thousand feet, gliding effortlessly through the sky is just me, Leah’s essence, and the clouds—feeling good and wishing the time away—until her essence is her and her smile is real and the world stands still.

  Suddenly, the plane veered left and vibrated. Passengers screamed as shots were fired and the plane dropped violently. I looked up from my day-dreaming and saw a lone gunman, raging down the aisle toward me. He was firing his handgun randomly, hitting innocent people causing their heads to explode with sprays of blood and brains. It’s was very evident that he was coming for me in his rage. His eyes were bloodshot and glaring at me as he relentlessly ran toward me, firing his gun at will.

  I recognized the angry face immediately and tears filled my eyes. It was my father coming to kill me. I cried out, “Daddy, Why are you trying to kill me? You’re my daddy. You’re supposed to help me!”

  My screams awoke me, and I abruptly sat up rubbing the sweat and tears from my face. I knew that the nightmares and hallucinating were caused by the pain from my snake-bit leg and the lack of food and water. Keeping my mind focused and keeping my sanity was going to be a challenge.

  A loud chirping noise drew my attention toward the center of the cave where I had placed the cocaine-laced sausages. Three rats were convulsing and thrashing wildly. The sausages were gone and apparently the cocaine they ingested was affecting their nervous systems. One by one the chirping and squealing stopped, and they lay motionless. I don’t know how much time had passed since they ate the food, as I was asleep, but the first part of my plan had worked. I had three dead rats full of cocaine in their system. I crawled to the spot where they were, picked them up by their tails, and carried them back to my base.

  I seized the knife and made small cuts in the stomach area. Some blood flowed and a distinctive smell came from the rats. I wanted the blood and the smell of their entrails to draw the attention of the snake and the wolf. I threw one rat to the area behind the rocks where I had last seen the snake. Another one I threw to the wolf’s area. There was probably not enough cocaine in the rats’ systems to kill either one, but I was depending on enough to sedate both. I wrapped the last rat in the piece of aluminum foil in case a back-up was needed.

  The wolf smelled the rat and turned his head away. Maybe he was too full of Cherokee’s flesh to be hungry. When he did get hungry, with his bad leg, the food in front of him was more convenient than to endure the pain to go to Cherokee’s body.

  My plan was simply this: I couldn’t continue to have to worry about the wolf getting tired of the stale meat of the dead body and come after me. If the cocaine sedated him, I could tie his feet to eliminate the threat. I didn’t have it in
me to let him starve, so when he was secured, I would, when necessary, place pieces of the dead body in front of his mouth to eat. As far as the snake goes, when sedated, I planned to kill it and eat it.

  Dizziness suddenly overcame me, and I must have passed out.

  The cool mist of the night fell upon me as I dreamed and floated in the stars in the thoughts of Leah. My spirit flew with the angels as we searched each cloud for her presence. I was crippled in the search because a piece of my heart was missing. Like a thief in the night, she took it away and left an open wound that will never heal without her presence. In the past, I was complete within myself. That state no longer exists. The thoughts of Leah are warm and gentle and welcome, but only remind me of the pleasure of being with her.

  So the sweet angels continued to help my crippled spirit search the clouds for her. I don’t know if she was hiding or lost in the confusion of life. The angels told me in silent reassurances that their father did not create loneliness. He created love and allowed its fragile purity to enter the paradox of life. The variable of his most treasured creation is intensity, allowing mutual intensity of love to overcome all paradoxes.

  As I searched and searched the night away, I saw occasional glimpses of her beauty in the sunset and sunrise. My intensity was shattering and sometimes I enjoyed the temporary healing of my wounds within dreams of her.

  The thoughts of Leah kept me from dying.

  I was in a daze as these thoughts rambled through my mind. It became extremely difficult to think straight. Half asleep and half awake, I slapped my face hard. My Navy Seal training had taught me that you can hallucinate from sleep deprivation, starvation, or dehydration. I was suffering from all three. I must get something to eat, or I would slip into a coma. I looked down and my eyes settled on Cherokee’s pack of cigarettes. I grabbed the smokes and stuffed four of them in my mouth and chewed. The taste was rancid but the nicotine should give me a boost, so I could complete my plan. I swallowed the tobacco, paper and all.