by Tyler Porter
“I was on my way out of Daryl’s there. I just live a few blocks away. I usually cut through instead of going all the way around. Good timing though, huh? How’s your neck? That was a pretty brutal hit you took.” The man reached around like he was going to rub Matt’s injured neck, but he leaned away from the stranger.
“It’s still a little tender,” Matt said sharply.
“Well of course it is! Fresh wound, fresh wound. The closest hospital is quite a few miles out though. Want me to call an ambulance?” His voice was high-pitched and playful, almost whimsical. Like this was some kind of comedy performance.
“No, thanks. I just need to walk it off a bit.” Matt was hoping the man would drop the issue and continue on home. At the same time, however, he was still stuck on the familiarity. There was something there; he just couldn’t place it.
“Words of a true man’s man! Rub some dirt on it while you’re at it! I’ll take a stroll with you. Just in case those termites come back for seconds. Little buddy system action.”
“I think I’ll be alright; I just need to get back to my car.” Matt went to take a step and wobbled. His senses were still being restored, and he definitely wasn’t at a hundred percent. John moved quickly and grab his shoulders to steady him, as if he were a precious family heirloom that was about to fall and shatter.
“Nonsense. You can’t even walk straight. Come on. I’ll be your crutch. It’s no trouble at all!”
“No. Really, I’m good.”
“I insist. I won’t take no for an answer, so don’t even think about it!”
With that, he scooped Matt’s arm up and over his shoulder and helped him down the alley. By the time they arrived at the end, Matt was walking solo, and finally beginning to feel fully awake again.
“So, what’s the deal John?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re walking out of a grocery store, happen to walk down an alley, find a stranger getting the beatdown of his life, on the verge of being killed, and you just happened to have the ability to fight off a bunch of bikers?”
“Hey, you don’t grow up like I did and not know how to take a punch as well as throw one.”
“Grow up like you did?” Matt sensed John was baiting him into asking more personal questions. He wanted the conversation to continue. Matt was suspicious of this stranger, but then again, he was suspicious of just about everyone. This man had saved his life; he decided to humor him.
“Yes! It was rough, sure, but it forced me to develop some serious skills. My old man is a retired Marine. He never really left the Corps, in my opinion. Nope. I think he would have died in battle, but they eventually forced him to retire. Said he was a little too keen on war, a little ‘trigger happy,’ if you catch my drift. Of course, he was military police, so when he got out he tried his hand at joining the local police force in our town. That didn’t work out so well.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, he was assigned to keep up the evidence room, and some other clerical things after a small police brutality claim.”
“Small?”
“Well, I suppose it depends on who you ask. Routine traffic stop turns into some guy’s worst nightmare when my old man pulls his record. DUI ten years earlier. Apparently Pops found it appropriate to rip the guy from the vehicle and force a breathalyzer into his mouth. When the guy resisted, Daddy beat him within an inch of his life. The beating only stopped because another cruiser happened to drive by.”
“Seems like that would be categorized as a criminal offense. I would predict jail time, not clerical work.”
“You would think so, but you know,” John shrugged, “small town police forces. The officers that saw it tweaked the story in his favor, and he got a slap on the wrist. The problem for me was that cleaning an evidence room didn’t give him many ways to let his frustrations out. I was kind of a bubbly kid anyways, so I became his new stress toy.”
Matt was more than put off by the way John had launched into an extremely detailed, and personal story of his abusive childhood. He guessed the guy didn’t have many friends—probably not many acquaintances either—based on his overwhelming personality and eagerness to get way too deep at the wrong time. If for perhaps no other reason than he feared John wasn’t fully stable and he knew he wasn’t on his defensive A-game, he let the conversation continue as they walked around the block.
“He knocked me around pretty good, or pretty bad depending on your attitude. So, needless to say, I had to learn how to defend myself. I will tell you that he did not like it one bit the first time I blocked a punch, and he really didn’t like it the first time I hit him back. But that was the start of our current relationship,” he said with a small smirk.
“Which is?”
“We don’t speak at all. It’s just better that way, you know? Not as many issues. What about you, huh? Did you have a rough time growing up?”
Matt stopped at a public bench that he guessed had been built in town centuries before he was born. He sat down and rolled his neck to the left, and then to the right, before responding to an all too eager John.
“You know, John, I’m just not really in the mood to talk about all that.”
That was the most honest answer he could come up with. Ever since he’d discovered his dad’s war room, he had been trying hard to think about him as little as possible. He didn’t know what to think, and that frustrated him. John looked slightly disappointed, but nodded in understanding before sitting down on the far side of the bench.
“So, you from around here, or just passing through friend?” he asked.
Odd. Very odd. John lived in Council Grove and didn’t know who he was. That was a first. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone knew the kid who killed the teacher. The entire time they had been talking, Matt had assumed that was the reason why John had stepped in—because he knew who he was—but apparently that was not the case. John seemed truly interested when asking this question. He was just so familiar. Something about those eyes. He decided that if this apparent stranger didn’t already know about his history, there was no reason to clue him in now. After all, it was history.
“Just passing through. Don’t plan on sticking around too long.”
“Well, I don’t blame you after all the hullaballoo! How did you get yourself into that trouble back there anyway? I take that alley home two or three times a week,. and I have never had any issues. Mugging isn’t the norm for our little town here.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure what all that was about, but I’m just going to try to forget it. Thank you, by the way. I’d be in a much rougher way right now if you hadn’t shown up.”
“Don’t mention it! Look, I know the best way to forget a rough incident as well as a sore neck.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“A couple of cold brews. Huh? What do you say? My treat!”
There was only one small watering hole in town, and it was probably the one place in town where he could go and not be recognized. He had never frequented the bar before he had left town for good because he was a minor, so hopefully they wouldn’t recognize him. He was willing to take the chance though. He was anxious to figure this guy out and figure out why his body was screaming at him to see the connection, and why he just couldn’t.
He sent a quick check-in text to Andi, who replied that they were doing alright. They had finished their ice cream and migrated to the small playground near the ice cream stand. Matt let her know he had a lot to tell her later that night, and that he would be there to pick them up in the next hour or so. She responded with a winking face consisting of a semi-colon and the right side of a parenthesis.
The hour went quickly. He and John split a pitcher of the beer of the month while John went on and on. Matt mainly listened while his savior went through his life story. He’d been in the military for a short time, but realized that wasn’t for him quickly after leaving for his first and only tour overseas. He’d been an on-site mechanic for the Humv
ees and had gotten a little too close to a firefight for his liking.
He was out after four years and returned back to Council Grove, never to leave again, although he did choose to get his own house so as to stay away from his father. He only ever referred to his dad as “Mike” and refrained from using the words “dad” or “father,” and when he did it was some wacky variation: Papa, Daddy-o, old man, sperm donor, etc. He’d been out of the service for a little over a decade and had been running an online business where he designed websites for other small companies.
John had been able to make what he described as “a decent living,” especially for a single man who lived well below his means. He said that he had an old Ford in the driveway, paid off, but that he almost never drove it, walking just about everywhere. He was also into Buddhism, lots of praying, and meditating, so he spent a lot of time doing that. He also explained that he only ate one meal per day, generally dinner.
He didn’t spend very much time on the “single” part of his story. He just briefly cruised over the topic by saying that he’d never married or had any children that he knows of. He laughed a little harder and longer than what would have been deemed appropriate for the joke, but quickly continued on. Aside from the sperm donor, he wasn’t sure about his mom. He said he remembered her being around when he was little, and then one day she wasn’t there anymore. He had one younger sister, but they’d never been very close either. All in all, not a big family guy, but Matt could relate.
Matt chimed in only a few times whenever John would stop to take a breath or a sip of beer. He was good at filling the silence, and John was awkward enough without adding an unnecessarily long stint of quiet to the conversation. Matt talked a little bit about the consulting firm, but didn’t go into much detail other than their core services. John lit up like a Christmas tree and dove into a rant about how they could possibly work together by offering a combination of website design and business growth consultation.
Matt replied with a simple “maybe,” and did his best to keep the conversation going, not wanting to linger on that subject. John was a nice guy, but he wasn’t a great match with Matt personality-wise. He felt he owed him the time for helping him with the bikers, but past that, he probably wouldn’t be sending the guy an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner. They finished off the pitcher of beer which divided out to about three beers each.
Matt’s life had changed a lot in the past few months. He’d stepped away from the company, and for the first time since its inception, he’d been able to hand over the reins and let someone else run it. He had also stopped drinking so often. His single-malt scotch nights were pretty much behind him. Of course, he felt that he had only developed that habit to deal with the loneliness. A way to forget how painfully alone he was before he met Andi. Once those girls had come into his life, he no longer had a need to drown away his reality. He wanted more of it.
It surprised him how quickly the cut-back in alcohol consumption had crippled his tolerance. Three beers and he was feeling very warm and a little buzzed. He was just reaching the subtle line where another beer seemed like a bad idea, but on the other side of that line, it seemed like a great idea. He was also warming up to John a little more, laughing along with him, and playing along a little more convincingly in the conversation.
John was being friendly, chatting with the waitress, and was about to order another pitcher when Matt felt his pocket vibrate—Andi, he figured. He checked his watch; it had been almost an hour since his last text to her letting her know he would pick them up within an hour. He looked at the screen, and sure enough, she was curious about his ETA, and let him know that Riley was getting bored of the swing set.
“No more beer for me, John. I gotta get going,” Matt said as he held up his phone to show he was being summonsed.
“Aww, just when we were getting started! Another time, another time. Raincheck! Save that next pitcher for a drizzly day.”
“Absolutely, and thank you again. I appreciate what you did. Hopefully I’ll be able to pay back the favor in a better way than beer someday,” he said as he pinned a fifty-dollar bill down under the edge of the empty pitcher ignoring the fact that John had offered to buy.
“Well, how is that going to happen if you don’t know how to get ahold of me?” John asked the question and was more serious than he had been since their first meeting. Quickly though, he broke into his odd, nervous laugh and pulled a business card from his pocket. “I know you aren’t in town long, but if you find some more down time, give me a jingle. Next round is definitely on me!”
Matt took the card, nodded in agreement, and left the bar. He walked quickly back to the car, careful to walk around the grocery store this time instead of down the alley, just in case the bikers had waited around for a second opportunity. He followed his normal process and thought hard as he walked. The first thing he thought about was his mom. He never had found her, and conveniently enough, he was ambushed in the very area she had asked him to meet her. Had she written the notes at all?
Those bikers were from another town several miles away. The attack wasn’t a coincidence. They’d been waiting for him. They had lured him into that alley. Up until that moment, he had forgotten about the woman—the small woman who he could have sworn was his mother who had led him into the alley and pepper sprayed him. Could it have been his mom? No. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t have had anything to do with the assault. Who then? Who was the mystery woman? Had she been the one leaving the notes to get him back to town?
There were a lot of questions, and he planned on going back to his parents’ house to find out what, if any, involvement his mother had in that situation. Then there was this John character. The unlikely savior who showed up seemingly out of nowhere. The guy who, oddly enough, was not aware of who Matt was or his past. Of course, during their conversation, Matt had never said his last name out loud. Surely someone from the town would recognize the name. It was just weird. They were roughly the same age, both grew up in the town apparently, and there was something about him—something Matt knew very well, but for the life of him, he could not place it.
All of this, not to mention that Bran the biker had put a target on his back. He predicted that the alley attack would not be the end of that story. He arrived at the car and started toward the playground, less than a minute drive and continued to think. All of the dark, unknown thoughts were washed away all at once as he pulled up and parked in front of the playsets. Riley’s huge, irresistible smile was on in full force as she sprinted to the Tahoe with Andi jogging behind to keep up.
They chatted the entire way back to the hotel, and Riley told Matt every detail—about the ice cream and the mini food fight they’d had, the park and how much fun Riley had been having, the dog that was playing nearby and how his owner had let Riley pet him—everything, and he was happy to hear it. He wanted to hear it. He didn’t want to miss a single word. This was his life. Every time he was around these two amazing beings, he had to remind himself that this was his life now. How had he gotten so damn lucky? That was the question that came into his mind most days. He didn’t care how; he was just happy to have them.
They got back to the hotel and stopped at the small shop for some snacks before heading back up the room. As soon as the door opened, Riley sprinted to find her fuzzy pjs and her stuffed animals. Matt had promised a movie night, and she was hoping for Despicable Me, her absolute favorite. She quickly reappeared in her comfiest nighttime gear and plunged onto the couch. She was adamant about always being in her spot, which was the middle cushion, Matt on her left, and Andi on her right. She would curl up against Matt, who would put his arm around her, and Andi would sit cross-legged on her other side sharing a blanket with her.
The three quickly got into their formation and started the movie. After ten or fifteen minutes, Matt looked over to find both girls sound asleep. He wanted to move them both to bed, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it out of fear that he might wake them. He didn’t
want to disturb them. He was entranced by them—so beautiful and so peaceful. He knew that his back was going to despise him in the morning, but he wasn’t about to move them, so he laid his head back against the cushion and fell into sleep.
He had once heard that a person often forgets the dreams that they had over a night’s sleep if they are woken up abruptly. Something to do with the brain and how it is fast to react when pulled rapidly out of REM. This was the case the next morning. The three hard knocks came at the door early. Too early. Matt was ripped out of sleep and quickly checked his watch, 7:09 a.m. Fuming that the cleaning service would disturb them so early, he carefully maneuvered his way out from under Riley. She stirred just slightly, but then relaxed back into a comfortable position, never actually waking.
Matt stormed to the door, quietly pulled the handle down and opened the door, jaw clenched not taking the time to look through the peephole. No one stood in the hall to greet him. He stepped out into the hall and looked up and down each direction, but he was alone. This was getting too familiar for his liking. He turned to go back into the room and taped on the door was another note. This was getting old, quickly, and he didn’t like that this mystery messenger knew where they were staying. Especially because the last note that he had found had almost resulted in his early death. He snatched it from the door and after checking again that he was alone, he read it.
Matthew,
Daryl’s was just the beginning. This is far from over and is bigger than you could ever imagine. Your world is about to change, and it will never be the same. You are the only one who can stop what has begun. Only you. Come home and come home quickly. Save me. You were first, I am next. Hurry, or all you will find are my bones.
Love,
Mom
Chapter 11: Shades of Crimson
“Yes Mr. O’Bannon?” Chelsea answered.
