by Wm. Barnard
“This is Vanessa Miller,” she answered formally. After several seconds she responded, “Okay, thanks you for all your help.”
After hanging up, she looked back at me. “Zach, they went out there and couldn’t find anyone in the house. Apparently Johnny’s truck was in the driveway, but no one responded to their knocks.”
“They didn’t go in the house?
“Zach, they can’t just enter into the house without probable cause.”
“They certainly can. They’ve busted into my house, went through all my stuff, drugged me…”
“What are you talking about?” she interrupted.
“Forget about it! You work for the man.” I said, thrusting my finger at her before hurrying back to my study. Firing up my computer, I bought an airline ticket to the Bay Area and arranged for a rental car in less than five minutes.
Meanwhile, Vanessa remained seated on the couch for a few minutes before leaning her head into the doorway where I sat.
“Zach, talk to me. I know you’re upset, but I have no idea what you are even talking about.”
“Just forget it. I’m going to go up there myself,” I said.
“Okay. I’ll just keep praying.”
“You do that,” I said, concentrating on the map on my screen.
After printing out the directions, I turned around to where Vanessa stood silently.
“Look, I’m sorry, Vanessa. I’m just freaked out right now. I appreciate you coming over and helping as much as you could.”
“I wish I could do more.”
Her graceful response made me ashamed of my rudeness so I walked over and gave her a quick hug. “Look, I gotta pack a quick bag; my flight leaves in less than an hour.”
“Call me as soon as you get up there.”
“I will.”
ALTHOUGH FORTUNATE TO GET A flight up north on such short notice, I was worried about driving in the Bay Area as I heard the traffic had been completely hectic since the most recent earthquake. With a copy of the city’s newspaper under my arm, I boarded the plane with hopes of immersing myself in some local news stories and diverting my thoughts away from the possibilities of what I would face when I arrived at Johnny’s.
Once airborne, the first article that caught my eye was a statistical report on the rapid increase of terrorist attacks in North America. While my head spun as I learned that over the last two years the occurrences had actually tripled, the second story I read caused me to be sick to my stomach.
Doctors everywhere were extremely perplexed by a new epidemic similar to SARS that was spreading like wildfire through central Africa. With no cure in sight, it was proving to be so unbearably painful that many of the victims were simply taking their own lives.
Instead of taking my mind off the prospect of finding my best friend’s dead body, I was again confronted with the purpose of my trip. Folding the paper, I tossed it below my seat and began staring through the small window into the dark, empty sky. I wondered where in this infinite universe The Ancestors were right now and when they would finally come to deliver us from this wicked world. Flicking off my overhead light, I shut my eyes and tried to think about the positive things The Ancestors had told me.
While I had never tried to contact my guardian Ancestor in a public setting, I couldn’t think of a better time to try since I so desperately needed their help. Fortunately, the seat next to me sat vacant and the flight attendants didn’t bother me as I pretended to sleep.
Not knowing where to even begin, I ended up praying, “Ancestor, my friend Johnny is in Jenner, California and in big trouble. I’m worried he might kill himself. Please help him.”
My guardian Ancestor’s distinctive voice replied, “Zach, my peace I leave with you. Remember, I am with you always.”
Desiring further direction, I kept my eyes shut and continued waiting another fifteen minutes, but heard nothing else. While his voice had always had a calming effect, my feet began tapping the floor rapidly as I now questioned how much The Ancestors could help in this situation.
The scheduled hour and a half flight ended up taking over five hours. San Francisco’s infamous thick fog had slipped in and hid the runway, causing us to be held over in Reno.
I could have driven up here faster than this! I thought.
With the constant public announcements ringing through the terminal, sleep proved impossible during the layover and I ended up walking in countless circles over the next few hours. Once we boarded the plane again, an exhausted silence filled the cabin until we landed in Oakland at 3:45 the next morning.
As I threw my bag into a rental car, a surprising boost of adrenaline came over me and helped me to stay focused on the road ahead. Speeding up the freeway north of the city, I could only hope for a sympathetic highway patrolman if I got pulled over.
Once I got within five minutes of Johnny’s cousin’s home, the sun began to rise over a nearby peak, revealing a vacant countryside. With no houses within a couple of miles, I could see how this isolated area could have helped lead Johnny into an even deeper state of depression. As I remembered Johnny’s message, how I was like a brother to him and that he loved me, my heart ached at the thought that I had missed the chance to say the same to him.
My pulse immediately spiked when I saw Johnny’s truck parked outside a small brick house and I slowed down to pull into the driveway. Hesitating to step out of my car, I quickly surveyed the yard for any signs of Johnny before approaching the house.
The old wooden stairs squeaked as I gently trotted up the front porch and peered into one of the screenless windows. The agitated cawing of a crow in flight startled me before it settled on an old oak tree in the front yard. I glanced back at the bird and caught his beady black eyes staring me down as if I didn’t belong here.
Turning my attention back inside, I noticed an almost empty bottle of bourbon sitting on the small, round dining room table. Next to it stood a tall, red water pipe, undoubtedly used to smoke marijuana. I scanned the rest of the house for any signs of Johnny and became alarmed when I spotted a pistol lying on the kitchen counter. The screen door lightly screeched as I cracked it open and reached through to the front door, but a deadbolt kept it from budging. Not wanting to break a window if I didn’t have to, I walked around back to try my luck.
Coming around the house to the back patio, I saw the outline of a body lying perfectly still in a rocking chair. With his head cocked awkwardly to the side and his legs dangling off the edge of the chair, I held my breath as I approached the limp body. Afraid to touch his corpse, I found myself half whispering “Johnny.” When his lifeless body didn’t respond, I fell to one knee in front of him and groaned “No, Johnny!”
Johnny’s whole body shuddered, causing the chair to jerk sideways and his eyes fluttered open.
“Zach?” Johnny said, straining to focus.
“Yeah, yeah it’s me… Geez, I almost had a heart attack,” I said holding my chest, and collapsed into the empty rocking chair next to him. I let out a huge breath. “You really had me worried from that message you left me yesterday.”
Trying to clear the frog in his throat, he said, “Uh, yeah, hey, I’m really sorry about that.”
Johnny began digging into the side of his neck to relieve a cramp that had I assumed had resulted from his night on the patio.
“You drove all the way up here to check on me?”
“Well, I tried to get up here as soon as I could, but my stupid flight got delayed because of the fog. From the way you sounded, I was worried you might kill yourself.”
Johnny exhaled slowly as he recalled the phone call. “I’ll tell you the truth, Zach; I actually wanted to and drank a bunch of Jack Daniels to get the courage to do it. Then I gotta gun out and must’ve stared at the barrel for like ten minutes. But I didn’t want a leave a big mess for my cousin so I thought I would just hang myself, but then I couldn’t find any rope. The more I thought about it, the more agonizing it became and I somehow ended up out in the
woods stumbling around for about an hour. As I walked back to the house, I decided I would just park my truck inside that big shed over there and try to let the carbon monoxide put me out of my misery. So I went out there and tried to start up my truck, and man, I can’t explain it, but the stupid thing wouldn’t start. The lights came on, so obviously it wasn’t the battery. I looked under the hood with a flashlight for twenty minutes and couldn’t figure it out. I mean, I just did a tune up myself the other day. So I decided to get back in the truck and try to start it one more time and again it didn’t start. I just sat there dazed and I’m not sure why, but I flipped on the radio. The first thing I hear is this super deep, gravelly voice. And I don’t know how to even describe it, but there was something about how he was talking that just seemed to draw me in.”
Johnny had retained a puzzled look on his face when recounting his trucks mechanical issues, but began to grin as he remembered the voice.
“The guy on the radio said, ‘Maybe you’re feeling like there’s no hope. Maybe you feel like there’s no point to living. Maybe you’ve done something so bad that you don’t think there is any way to get rid of that guilt. I’m here to tell you, there is good news. Jesus Christ truly loves you; He proved it by dying for every single one of your sins and He will forgive you if you ask Him tonight.’ It was as if God spoke to me through this man. And now that I think about it, I know it was from God.”
Staring at him in disbelief, all I could say was, “So, what, God stopped you from taking your life?”
“I don’t know how else to explain it. Why didn’t my truck start up? Don’t you see it, Zach? That was a miracle,” he said, rocking forward and planting his feet.
My fatigue began to overwhelm me and I certainly didn’t feel like getting into some huge debate about the veracity of his story. While I couldn’t see how some motorized failure qualified as a miracle, I was nonetheless content for Johnny to believe that something supernatural had helped ward off his suicide.
Johnny had been staring off into the woods before apparently having some illuminating epiphany that caused his eyes to moisten. “You know what the real miracle is, Zach? That God would still reach out to me even though I’d been rebelling against Him my whole life. I got saved last night; I asked Jesus to be my Lord and Savior.”
Unable to keep my mouth from dropping open, I sat astounded as his last words seemed even more absurd than his account about the truck.
Continuing his stare out toward the tree line, Johnny stood up silently for a minute before instinctively turning around and looking me right in the eye. “You still don’t want to believe it, do you, Zach?”
“Johnny, no one is happier than me to see that you’re alive. Whether it was God or good luck that kept you from taking your life, whatever. The point is, you’re alive and I hope you never get depressed like that again,” I said, hoping Johnny wouldn’t go on some tirade about the hand of God rigging his truck. I fought off my temptation to remind him that his mass consumption of bourbon and weed would probably explain volumes about what had truly transpired last night.
Sensing I had no desire to go deeper into discussion, he quickly changed the subject. “Hey, we should go check out the surf. There a few good breaks like twenty minutes from here that I haven’t even hit up yet. My cousin Frank’s up at his girlfriend’s in Eureka so you can use his board and suit. Let me go grab it and we’ll throw the stuff in your car.”
“That sounds good. But when we come back, I’m gonna pass out hard because I haven’t slept in about twenty four hours.”
“Don’t worry, when that fifty-two degree water slaps your face, you’ll be wide awake,” he said, laughing. Naturally the thought of me becoming a human ice cube amused Johnny.
While he gathered some towels and wet suits, I thought about Vanessa and yelled through the screen door as I dialed her phone.
“Hey, I’m gonna call my sister and let her know that you’re okay.” I ended up leaving a brief message on her voice mail that Johnny was fine and in good spirits.
Johnny strode back with an oversized backpack on his shoulder and sipping a Red Bull soda. Spinning a set of keys around his finger, he asked, “Hey, did you get a hold of her?”
“No, but I left a message.”
“Oh man, I would love to talk to her. Let’s go out to my truck and get my stuff out of the camper,” Johnny said, grabbing some towels off of a chair.
I followed Johnny out to his truck, but instead of going toward the back of his truck to retrieve the gear, he sat down in the cab and popped the hood open. We walked around to the front and after a brief examination, neither one of us could find anything visibly wrong with the truck.
“When Frank gets back in town, I’ll have him check it out. He knows a lot more than I do.” Johnny paused as if contemplating what could be wrong, muttering something under his breath before impulsively jumping back inside the cab. The ignition didn’t even sputter before, but now the engine roared to life, causing Johnny to look over at me with a huge grin. I could only chuckle as there was clearly no explanation to why it hadn’t started earlier. He hopped out, ran to the backyard and returned with Frank’s board under his arm.
We spun around in the driveway and once we hit the asphalt, Johnny purposely burned his tires on the pavement allowing the truck to fishtail for a moment. Sticking his head out the window so the cold wind could blow directly into his face, he yelled, “Yeaaaaaaah, I’m alive!”
He pulled his head back in the cab and looked completely maniacal with his hair doing its best Albert Einstein impression.
Johnny looked over at me, beaming from ear to ear, and practically screamed in my ear, “Ain’t it great to be alive!”
While his hilarious facial expression caused me to smile and shake my head, deep down I was extremely grateful to see Johnny being young at heart again and hoped he could maintain this positive mental attitude.
CHAPTER 19
Walking through a skinny trail along the edge of a cliff, we were greeted at the bottom by the stench of rows of rotting kelp stacked along the sand. As I put on my wetsuit, my eyes scanned the jagged black rocks that lined the beach, making for a daunting entrance out to sea. Hesitating at the edge of the water, I finally launched onto the surfboard to begin the paddle out behind Johnny. Once I made it into the lineup, many of the head-high waves provided short, but fun rides and we ended up sharing the reef break spot all to ourselves.
Johnny had not been kidding about the water being bitterly cold and I couldn’t surf more than an hour. After retreating back up the cliff, I sat on the warm hood of his truck, enjoying the solitude of this empty beach and the lush landscape that framed the coastline.
With the gorgeous weather and beautiful scenery, Johnny had an easy time convincing me to stay for another day. My unexpected trip up north turned into a nice little respite from my work and gave me a chance to finally experience the Sonoma County coastline. Since the forecast called for more good surf along with perfect offshore winds, I wished I could have spent more time in this secluded setting, but I needed to return home and prepare to meet up with Sterling Hames in Los Angeles.
The next morning after breakfast, Johnny followed me outside as I went out to put my things in the rental car and head back to the airport.
“Hey, this has been great hanging out. When I get the chance, I’d like to come back up here,” I said as I scanned the back seat, trying to remember if I had forgotten anything.
“Anytime, Zach. Thanks again for comin’ to check on me.”
“Hey, I’d do it again, but please next time, and I know this might sound weird coming from me, if you start feeling depressed, stay away from the bottle.”
“You don’t have to worry about me now, Zach. I’m good. My drinking days are over.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea for a while. Just take things one day at a time,” I said, surprised that he seemed so ready to give up drinking completely.
With a convincing smile
, he declared, “From now on, I’m going to start living the clean life.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” I said, hoping this wouldn’t turn out like some rash New Year’s resolution.
Glancing over my belongings one more time, I looked at my watch and said, “Well, hey, I gotta hit the road.”
“Wait, I almost forgot. Give me Vanessa’s phone number. I’d really like to talk to her.”
After relaying the number to him, I drove toward the airport and imagined how strange it would be to actually hear a spiritual conversation between my sister and Johnny. I certainly had no plans to tell Vanessa about his drunken encounter with God and could only hope that I’d be able to avoid discussing it with her.
INSIDE THE AIRPORT TERMINAL AT a bustling local brewery, the steady hum of chatter fell quiet at the breaking news story on TV. Footage of a UFO zigzagging across the Palm Desert, CA sky displayed on several big screens before the network cut to a reporter’s conversation with an elderly lady who had recorded the home video.
When she was asked if she was still shaken up by the incident, I was surprised when she smiled, maintaining, “Don’t worry about me. I’m more than prepared for any aliens trespassin’ on my property.” With a gleam in her eye, the tiny woman lifted up a twelve gauge shot gun and the entire bar erupted in laughter.
To further discuss the event, they broadcasted a live conference call between a senior news anchor and the chief astronomer from the Jefferson Institute, Leo Herschel. While Herschel initially admitted that he found the footage puzzling, he seemed way too ready to dismiss the video as merely a natural phenomenon rather than an alien aircraft. He reasoned that we most likely had instead witnessed the planet Mars at close proximity during this time of its orbit.
