by John Hart
He was gazing at a wallet size photograph she must have given him, repeating, “I’m so sorry, kitten,” and tenderly tracing her image with his fingertips when they left.
“Man, that sucked,” Gregg breathed once they were outside and moving in the direction of the jeep. “How many more days, Izzy? How many days?”
“337 and a wake up. But who’s counting, right? Just ask J.D.”
“Yeah, how weird was that this morning? I can’t believe he wanted to get arrested just to save our asses, so he must know something we don’t.”
“He always knows something we don’t, Gregg. That’s why he’s the secret agent man and we’re his grunts. Or we were. Not any more since—” Izzy groaned.
“What?”
“You don’t think he’s going to use us for something else now, do you?”
“God, I hope not. If he goes off on some tangent with this murder he was so happy to get arrested for, let’s just hope like hell he’d rather work alone or break in some new guys that won’t tamper with a crime scene.”
Izzy hesitated before asking, “Are you afraid of him?”
“Of course not,” Gregg said a little too fast.
“Not even a little?” Izzy persisted. “I mean, he could get rid of us both and make it look like an accident if he was worried we might spill something about the cover-up the military was doing on the psyops operation, even before Rick’s whole troop was taken out. Besides, you know they have to be putting a spin on that.”
“Sure they are,” Gregg agreed as they approached the jeep. “But if J.D. really wanted to get rid of us, he had the perfect opportunity already.”
“I don’t think he’s done with us.” There it was; the suspicion that felt like a hot breath on the back of Izzy’s neck. “Did you see that little wink J.D. gave us while the MPs hustled him into Colonel Johnson’s car?”
“No, I was too busy watching Peck make an ass out of himself.” Gregg got in the jeep and banged his head against the wheel. “Shit. . .shit. . .shit.”
“My sentiments exactly. In fact, I’ll bet you anything J.D. shows up in the next day, two max, and tries to pull us into his next scheme, maybe even play on our feelings for Nikki to get us on board.”
Gregg responded with a full body slump against the wheel. A heavy sigh and he gestured to the veranda where Margie was curled up in a protective ball on the rattan couch, her hand vaguely waving them good-bye. “Maybe you should tell Margie you’ll write her if she doesn’t see you soon.”
“I’ll make it quick.”
“Take your time.”
Time was a funny thing Izzy had noticed since arriving in Vietnam. It expanded and contracted like elastic but mostly felt like being underwater while you tried not to give up whatever little oxygen was left or suck in the liquid that could drown you.
All Margie had to do was lift her soulful eyes to his and he felt her accumulated pain like a third person in the atmosphere they occupied, and still he didn’t want to come up for air.
“Margie? I’m so sorry for everything I couldn’t stop from happening to you.”
“But you didn’t do anything.” She reached for his hand with shaking fingertips. “Funny, isn’t it? Your hands don’t shake anymore. Mine do.”
“They won’t always. You’ll come out of this. You have to. We’re meeting in Switzerland, remember?”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” And as he said it, Izzy remembered another promise he had made to a fatally burned soldier who was more worried about his mother getting the news than he was about being sent home in a casket. Time. Who knew how much any of them had? Time was an illusion and he wasn’t wasting a second of it now.
For once Izzy didn’t think, he just let it happen. He moved to the couch and pulled Margie to him. He tenderly ran a fingertip over the stitches running from her nose to her upper lip. Ever so lightly he kissed her full on the mouth. She tasted like heaven and honeysuckle. His body responded in a way it never had with Rachel or even with his steamy fantasies where Margie was the star of his one man show.
She whimpered.
Izzy forced his mouth away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Margie’s chest began to shake and he wanted to bury his face between her breasts, lose himself in the hot naked yearning just the thought of her always provoked.
As for the thoughts he was having now, they were nothing to be proud of, not while she was in such a terrible state.
“I’m such a mess,” she half laughed, half sniffled, “And you weren’t hurting me. You were turning me on, you crazy guy, making me forget—”
That’s as far as she got.
Izzy kissed her with enough fire to melt Switzerland and half of Norway, too.
*
As it turned out Izzy’s prediction was right on the money. J.D. sleuthed his way into the villa about 1900 hours the following evening. Gregg hung up the phone and didn’t waste a second on pleasantries that were no more than a thin veil separating the rivalry and distrust between them.
“Where are you going?” J.D. demanded as Gregg headed out the door for the jeep he immediately cranked up, put into gear.
“None of your damn business,” was all Gregg gave up as he peeled out.
And he wasn’t about to stop even if J.D. was yelling, “Wait! I need to talk to you!” and waving his arms furiously in the rearview mirror.
No, it sure as hell was not J.D.’s business that Kate had called and asked him—that’s right, him, Gregg, not J.D.—to come to the mission. Okay, so she had asked Izzy to come too, but he wanted to see Kate alone. Her voice was strained, and the Doctah of Damage Control was In.
As Gregg drove the jeep around the winding turn and then over the bridge to the mission hospital, the thrill of anticipation mingled with the scent of flowers and fresh mown grass on warm tropic air. He could even hear the soft breeze rustling the palms in the way that always sounded to him as if it were raining. He could almost understand why Kate loved being here in a way that he never had. But she didn’t belong here either. None of them did. Except, perhaps, J.D. And Rick. He was in his element in the jungle and quite happy to hunt down the enemy he was assigned to kill, which didn’t necessarily translate well into hearth and home and a nice little white picket fence in Mayberry.
Once the war was over, if it was ever over, chances were that a guy like Rick would not do well unless he was sent elsewhere to do exactly what he was doing here, or at least be training new men. Otherwise, Gregg could imagine him straggling in to some VA hospital with a bottle of Jack in one hand, a loaded gun in the other.
God, he hated the things he found himself thinking.
Gregg pulled up to the front of the mission, ran a comb through his hair and wished he had splashed on some Canoe. Too late now, he took a deep breath and counted to ten before knocking on the mission’s front door.
The lights were on inside, and although he knew that Robert David had come over earlier to visit Margie, it was unusually quiet as the door slightly opened, revealing just a portion of Kate’s face, like she was peeking around the side.
No doubt she was being extra careful. Gregg had hugged her when he gave her the news about Nikki, and he loved the way she had held so tight to him, buried her face against his chest. But he didn’t try to get her “off the reservation” for a few days as J.D. had asked because he knew she wouldn’t go. And he had asked Izzy to fill her in on J.D.’s arrest because he didn’t want Kate to think he was gloating. Not that it mattered now anyway since J.D. had obviously been sprung out of the slammer as quickly as he had put himself in.
Gregg opened his arms and said simply, “I am so glad to see you.”
Kate put a hand up as if to signal him to stop, but he was already inside the door and reaching for her in the foyer when it registered that something was not right.
She was stiff and her eyes were wide open. In them he saw none of her usual fire.
What he saw was raw fear.
“What’s wrong?” Gregg asked.
The door shut quietly behind him. Turning, Gregg exhaled a huge sigh of relief.
“Rick, hey man, great to see you up and about so soon.”
Rick smiled. “Fit as a fiddle. Thanks to all you fine folks. So, where’s Izzy? It’s like you’re missing the other bookend.”
“Sorry, it’s just me.”
“Aw, shucks. Guess we’ll have to celebrate without him.” Rick nodded toward the adjoining living room. “Kate? Time to rejoin our friends. After you.”
Kate had yet to utter a word and the whole exchange seemed even weirder when they entered the living room and Rick said brightly, “Great timing, Doc. We were waiting for you to start the party. And here we have the whole gang gathered for a cozy time together.”
Gregg looked around at all their tense and terrified, confused expressions as Rick amiably went on, “You know our hosts here, Gregg. The good Doctor Donnelly and his lovely young bride Shirley, as they say on TV, and of course straight from his Mardi Gras ball is Robert David with the enigmatic Professor Nguyen—or should we say Professor Spymaster Nguyen? And there’s nurse Margie looking a little banged up, but she took a lickin’ and she’s still tickin’! And last but certainly not least, your very own old pal, the ‘stab you in the back and leave you for the handsome J.D.,’ our gal Kate.”
Gregg kept blinking, trying to process what his eyes were telling him but his brain refused to register.
“Why is everyone tied up?” Everyone except Kate had their hands and feet tightly bound.
Rick moved behind the bar. “Would you like a drink? For missionaries they have an amazingly well stocked liquor cabinet.”
From behind the same liquor cabinet Rick produced an AK47 and placed it on the bar. He did some swift maneuvering and emerged with a lethal looking blade in one hand, a martini glass in the other. Around his waist were grenades and a claymore mine.
Rick took a sip of whatever contents he had in the glass, then placed it on the bar in exchange for the AK47 he picked back up.
“You look surprised, Gregg. What’s wrong? You invited me here, didn’t you?”
“What are you doing, Rick?”
“I’m tying up loose ends, Gregg. We’ve got to put an end to this Boogeyman business once and for all. Speaking of, let’s get you and Kate taken care of right now. I’ll even tie you up together, now isn’t that sweet?”
“Boogeyman,” Gregg repeated. He was still unable to process the bizarre scenario but that didn’t stop him from clocking in on automatic pilot. “Come on, Rick. That’s over and done with. You already took care of that business, remember? You’re a fucking hero, man. Oh, sorry about my language, Dr. Donnelly. Shirley.”
Rick guffawed then fired a single shot from the AK47. The burst of sound exploded the silence of the room. Shirley and Kate screamed. Dr. Donnelly spastically jerked with an anguished cry. Blood spurted from his shoulder.
“Oh, sorry about my little trigger finger there, Dr. Donnelly. Shirley. But not to worry, it is just a flesh wound. Actually, a very difficult shot with this type of weapon. Another quarter of an inch and it would have taken his arm off.”
Gregg moved toward Rick, speaking in his intervention voice.
“Hey, take it easy, man. Everybody loses it here, that’s all. You’re upset about your guys. About Nikki. But you’re with friends now. Give me the gun, okay?”
“Okay, Gregg, will do.”
He extended the weapon, and as Gregg reached for it an exploding sensation cracked across his face.
Gregg felt his knees buckle, hit the ground, felt blood spurting out of his nose and the surrounding area where Rick had smashed him in the face with the butt of the rifle. Kate ran to him, tried to cover him with her own body, screaming at Rick, “Don’t touch him again, you monst—”
“Er. . .” Rick finished as he silenced her with a slap. “Shut up, Kate, and don’t make me do that again,” he advised.
Kate lunged at Rick, snarling like a mother bear protecting its cub but before Gregg could struggle to his feet Rick smacked her back down. In a matter of seconds, he had a length of cord wrapped around them, tied up as tight as a couple of turkey legs holding in the stuffing for Thanksgiving dinner.
“Barbie and Ken would be so jealous,” Rick remarked, looking them over. “Well, maybe except for the mess you’re making of her hair.”
With that, Rick leapt through the air and flat bladed his knife across Robert David’s face, and then back across Professor Nguyen’s in a blurring move. They were both rigid, stunned, with blood spurting from their split open cheeks; a bone protruded from Robert David’s nose. Another swipe and Dr. Donnelly’s throat was nearly severed. He lurched forward into Shirley’s lap and as he gurgled his life out in bubbles of blood, she began to pray, “I will fear no evil; for thou art with me. . . .”
“Pray all you want, lady, but it won’t do you any good unless you’ve got a different god listening than I had growing up.” Rick calmly went back to the bar, put down the knife, and took another sip from the martini glass. He considered the now paralyzed group, only Shirley making a sound as she quietly continued the Lord’s Prayer. Rick rolled his eyes before observing, “Amazing is it not just how stunned the average civilized person is by violence. The brain kind of just slows down and stops, doesn’t it?”
“Rick, stop,” Gregg pleaded, willing to do anything to save Kate from a killing machine pushed over the edge. “You’re hurting people, man. Let us help you. Please.”
Rick looked over at Gregg like he was the slowest kid in school and was pitied by the class president wearing a lettermen jacket.
“Always the good doctor, huh, Gregg? Don’t you get it? I killed those men.” Rick huffed on his knuckles, polished his chest. “All of them.”
Gregg shook his head, frantic to restore even a small sense of reality because Rick had to be out of his mind. “No you didn’t, Rick. You did your best to save them. The boogeymen that did it, that’s who you killed, the whole gang you wiped out. You were a hero. And you can still be a hero. Just put down the gun and let me help you. We’re friends, remember?”
“Gregg?” It was Robert David, speaking for the first time through his slashed open cheek and ruined nose. “This isn’t your friend. He is the Boogeyman.”
31
Rick released a big, hearty guffaw. “He’s figured it out, Gregg. I guess medical school guys are smarter than you other shrinks that don’t get a brass plated MD on the office door.”
As Rick set about stringing wire across the area where they were pinned, he pleasantly took them along like a tour guide down a well-traveled mental health ward.
“Oh, I know all about that stuff, could even be a shrink myself after all the time I’ve spent getting diagnosed and prescribed this and that pill like they’re vitamins for the brain. Even had a few of those electroshock treatments. Actually, I kind of liked those. Not as good as getting laid, but they are mighty stimulating. Anyway, that’s why I could tell right off the bat that J.D. wasn’t really one of you. Boy did I have a good time playing with that crazy motherfucker. Reminds me a bit of myself.”
“You are insane.”
Kate’s defense of J.D. felt like a cut to Gregg, and yet he would kiss that crazy motherfucker himself right now if only he had followed him here. But a glance in the rear-view mirror had assured Gregg that J.D. went into the villa instead.
“Ouch! You hurt my feelings.” Rick looked pained then good-naturedly informed Kate, “Fact is, sanity is way over-rated. It’s an illusion anyway. Just ask Gregg. Right, buddy? Bet you wonder if you’re crazy yourself half the time, don’t you?”
Gregg could feel Kate trying to move her hands that were pinned between their chests but that only seemed to make the rope tighter. He had to keep Rick talking.
“Honestly, Rick, I’d have to say at least three fourths of the time. M
aybe full-on crazy after the shit you laid on us here.”
“Man, you crack me up! Like I said at our little tiki hut hotel, makes me wish I could keep you shrinks around.”
“Yeah, that was a great time, wasn’t it? Until the next morning. I guess maybe you had something to do with that, too?”
“Oh, you betcha. Not that I much enjoyed doing the Headman and his old lady in while they were sleeping. I do like a challenge and that was easy as taking candy from a baby.”
“No one offers more candy to a kid than a pedophile, it’s one of the ways they lure them in. . .Peck has major flaws, but he just doesn’t give off that kind of vibe.”
“And what kind of vibe would that be?” J.D. wanted to know.
“Creepy.”
Gregg’s own words came back to him from that first visit with Rick in the Highlands, when Peck had shot the elephants. Rick had been feeding them candy from the very beginning and how easily he had lured them in. And even now, in the midst of the mission being turned into a House of Horrors, Rick didn’t put out a crazy vibe. He wasn’t foaming at the mouth or having his eyes roll up in his head or even remotely looking like the most obvious candidate in the room for a strait jacket.
No, he was still looking like a Burt Lancaster body double and sounding like his personable self when he added with a touch of modesty, “Excuse me for tooting my own horn, but I did think the matches were a nice touch, even if I hated giving them up.”
