He still had the utmost respect for his staff, but he was simply unable to depart from his deepest convictions and follow their collective guidance. He was not ready to continue a series of events which would most certainly spiral the already precarious world relations into an out and out feud. A feud of that magnitude would, without question, spark the next world war. The oil and gas crisis, coupled with enough redundant nuclear capability to destroy the earth a thousand times over, were the faces of the two-headed monster. Whether naïve or just plain stubborn, he felt to his core that every effort should be to tame or subdue the monster, not take steps to unleash its wrath on the already vulnerable world.
Destroying the monster wasn’t an option, since it was essentially made of man. Reflecting on this thought, he was amazed by the paradox. He couldn’t kill what threatened mankind, without destroying the source of the threat; mankind itself. This was over his head; he needed to talk to the smart guy.
This time his call to Wei Liang connected, and he closed his eyes as he heard his father’s voice answer.
“Son.”
“Hey, Dad.”
“Wing, you are alone?”
Digging thumb and fore finger into his eyes in a deep rubbing motion, Wing was slow to answer. “I am, Dad, well, as alone as it gets. I started to call a couple of times this week, but it just…”
“I am aware that you have a job, Wing.” Wei’s voice hinted that he said this with a smile. Wing released his eyes from the vice grip and saw stars form in his field of vision. As they faded, he asked his father, “So, were you tuned in yesterday?”
“I was. I felt particularly Chinese there toward the end, but oddly, very American. Bold move, Wing. I’m surprised your cast of thousands supported it.” He said the last with a bit of sarcasm; he was not completely convinced that the man who ran the nation should be a slave to his “advisors” or to the political climate. His attitudes had clearly had an impression on his son.
Cringing, and at his most honest, Wing replied, “Well, they didn’t, in fact, they didn’t know I was departing from the plan till I did it. In fact, I wasn’t so sure myself. It was either pretty ‘bold,’ as you said, or the stupidest thing in recorded history. I guess I should know which, but honestly Dad, I don’t have a clue. I’m making this up as I go…”
“If everyone loves you, Wing, a leader, you are not.” Wei said the words solemnly.
With his first breath of levity that day, Wing responded,
“Well then, Dad, I guess by a measurable standard, I am a fantastic leader as of yesterday. Just listen to the commentaries…I have some fans, but there are many who are feeling a lot of things that aren’t too loving.” He laughed tiredly.
Wei had been born on American soil to first generation Chinese parents; he sounded like any other Illinois citizen. But with his best impersonation of his own father, he said, “My son, wise man make his own decision, ignorant man follow public opinion.”
“Who was that, Confucius?” Wing asked, with a distant smile as he inspected his nails on his free hand.
“You tell me!” Answered Wei, in his own voice. “You doled out serious Chinese wisdom yesterday…I assume you knew your sources?”
“You know…I did. I went on a whim, but it was a strong one. I know it sounds crazy, but as hard as I’ve worked to avoid the minority Asian thing in my politics, my gut told me this was the way to go. I don’t know if it’s because of our background, Dad, or because of things here and now; whether you’re Lincoln or some dead Chinese guy, right is right. I just… I don’t know.” They were both quiet for a moment, but the bond was strong, unaffected by the miles between them.
“Would you do it again?” Wei asked quietly.
“In a heartbeat, Dad.”
Once more, in the sage Chinese accent, Wing heard,
“He who conquers others is strong; he who conquers himself is mighty….” Wei made the statement in earnest, but added with humorous pride, “That was Lau Tzu.”
“Good one, Dad. More importantly, Lau Tzu also said, and I quote…How could man rejoice in victory and delight in the slaughter of men?”
Neither expanded on the final quote which held the essence of what they knew was truly at stake. At stake, not just for their own nation or the republic of their heritage, but for the world.
_____________________________________________________________
Byron’s layover in Chicago was so short and he had to cover such a distance to his connecting flight that he didn’t even activate his phone, let alone check for messages. As he trotted through the airport, to the best of his 62-year-old ability, he remembered O.J. Simpson in Hertz commercials back in the 70’s. The then-popular football star had sprinted through airports, hurdled ropes and luggage, while exalting the awesomeness of Hertz Car Rentals. The legendary advertisements led to the phrase, “doing an OJ Simpson,” when people dashed through terminals to make tight connections.
Winded, and at his gate, Byron reflected that NO ONE bragged about “doing an OJ Simpson” since the dethroned star’s infamous murder trial. He may have been acquitted of the crime, but few people had doubts of what it meant to “do” an O.J. Simpson these days, and it had little to do with hauling ass through an airport.
The gate attendant scanned Byron’s boarding pass and shooed him through the door onto the tarmac to board the puddle jumper that would take him on the last 45 minutes of his travels. Last to board, Byron knew he wouldn’t be able to check messages before the plane departed. He’d have to wait to see if Johnnie Carter had returned his call, although, deep down, he suspected it would take a bit more than the weak bait he’d cast to get this girl on the line.
As he wedged into his toddler-sized seat in the tiny Beechcraft, Byron reprimanded himself for even worrying about such things and to put his angel-pursuits on hold. For now, he should keep his eye on the prize; Margie would be waiting at the airport in Peoria.
The flight had delayed departure for him to board the plane and the crew was anxious to leave. Byron buckled his seatbelt under the impatient gaze of the tiny aircraft’s single flight attendant, smiling broadly as he demonstrated his compliance. Seeing that she was unimpressed with his aircraft acumen, he quickly offered to demonstrate the use of his seat cushion as a floating device in the ‘unlikely event of a water landing.’ As she backed down the narrow aisle, rolling her eyes, Byron glanced at a curious young man seated nearby.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying. I’ve gotten free beer for less.”
___________________________________________________________
Johnnie and Betsy spent the night with Berta and Loretta in their already cramped quarters. She and the dog paired up on a floor pallet made of spare blankets. Johnnie slept better than she had since the beginning of her troubles.
Before departing early in the morning, her new family forced their contact information on her. They reserved any more advice for this woman who was finding her way in the world of the “unique,” but plainly let her know that the best part of their lives almost exclusively began the day they’d each stopped being loners.
Blocking his eyes from the rising sun, Gunter strained to look up at her.
“Even if it’s not us, you need someone besides Tri-Pod to be part of your life, good or bad. That’s the only way you’ll find the good, take our word for it.”
She thanked them all and they each said their farewells and thanks to Betsy before the truck pulled away.
Johnnie called James during the short drive to Omaha and caught him boarding a flight in Atlanta. He told her she could rest at his home in the time she had to kill before her late flight.
Her attempts to put him off on this whole plan were met with uncompromising resistance. She reasoned she could still drive the whole way, as planned, and he could just meet her along the way, or in New York.
“Oh, I am meeting you in New York. Tomorrow.” He had another office in Manhattan, as well as a penthouse, and had rearranged his schedule
so he could see her there, having missed the narrow window to meet with her in Omaha.
“James, lookit. I appreciate your concern about whatever is going on with Mom, but I’m a big girl. This is very inconvenient to me…I hadn’t told you, I have a dog now… and you know I have my truck.”
“Johnnie, I have about three minutes here…so listen. This has very little to do with Mom, and everything to do with you.”
“What? I don’t get it, I thought…”
“Johnnie…are things happening to you, or maybe I should say with you? Don’t bullshit me, I don’t have time and if the answer is yes, then you don’t have the time.” Her mind went blank. How did he know?
“Well…”
“We need to see you and you shouldn’t be alone. That’s it. Leave the dog with my people. He or she will be fine…my dogs are obscenely indulged and I’ll ensure yours will be too. You can leave your truck in one of the garages… Al will hook you up. I’ll make the call before my plane leaves, which is very shortly. Let me know when you get there. Love you, bye.”
“That went well,” she said, holding the dead phone as she stared, blank faced, at the road ahead. Betsy made her typical response in the language only she knew, but her words to Johnnie were more imploring than empathic. Her hot, foul breath dampened Johnnie’s right cheek. Glancing at the face very close to hers in the cab, Johnnie told her,
“Look, I’m doing my best here, but you’ve apparently forgotten that I didn’t even know how to feed you two days ago, so I know even less about getting your butt a plane ticket. Chill.”
Disgruntled, the hound snorted obstinately and flopped down, nearly toppling off the seat due to lack of planning. Her balance was always in question, so sudden moves in tight spaces were somewhat dicey. She kept her cool points by recovering just in time to prevent a fall and remained on the seat, closing her eyes as if her movement had gone perfectly and according to plan.
Reflecting on her brother’s comments, Johnnie paid no mind to her pouting friend. How in the hell did he know what was going on and what did her mother know? She remembered her mom’s uncharacteristic shift to silence during their recent conversation. All she’d said was for her to get home. He’d just said “we” need to talk and that she shouldn’t be alone.
“No shit, Sherlock,” she said aloud, appreciating his assessment that she should not be alone…but who was “we?” Had he actually joined leagues with her mom? Had they talked, even though he’d initially wanted to see her first?
She shook her head, still holding the phone. Too complicated…too much drama. She had very brief thoughts of just shit-canning the whole family pow-wow, when she remembered her Bachweister family’s advice about not being a solitary broker with her “condition.” She also desperately wanted to know more about why her life had turned inside out. On at least a few occasions, she’d had an overwhelming sensation that this wasn’t new to her; could this mean her family knew-or remembered-something she didn’t? She didn’t know whether to feel hopeful, freaked out, or betrayed.
She was already approaching Omaha and it was not even eight o’clock in the morning. Relieved to redirect her train of thought, she fumbled to plug James’ address into the GPS. She had not been to his home before and had no idea how to find it or what to expect other than it would be considerably nicer than anything to which she’d become accustomed.
He lived off of Harrison Street…she thought it was in the southern part of Omaha, which must have been the case since the emotionless GPS instructed her to exit I-80 before getting too close to the city.
As she closed in on his “neighborhood,” she could see the first tangible signs of James’ success. These weren’t homes…they were estates, in her estimation. The only evidence she had that her GPS hadn’t steered her wrong were huge numbers on the wrought iron gate which blocked a private entry. Hoity toity….
Once she figured out the whole intercom-thing and identified herself, she was granted immediate access to the long tree-lined drive which eventually led to a well-concealed, but beautiful sprawling two-story home. It was surrounded by considerable acreage with flawless landscaping.
She and a suspicious Betsy were met at the house by a very easy-going, aforementioned, “Al” (one of James’s ‘people,’ she assumed), who took them straight inside. Once she assured Al that all she needed was a place to clean up and use her computer and phone, he took her to her room…which was actually a suite. After showering and changing, she found Betsy passed out on the bed. Recalling that James had pets, she hoped this was acceptable behavior in these digs and immediately set about on her mission to arrange for Betsy’s travel.
It didn’t take long to ascertain that Betsy wouldn’t be flying anywhere, anytime soon. Johnnie needed, at a minimum, proof of rabies shots, which, of course she didn’t have. She suddenly wondered if Betsy had ever had any shots. She also needed an “approved crate…” She wouldn’t even know where to start on that one. Finally, in addition to the immunizations, the airlines highly recommended that she consult with her non-existent veterinarian about comfort factors (she assumed this meant drugs) for the pet’s travel, especially since Betsy probably hadn’t flown before. Cost was another factor, but since she wasn’t paying for her own flight, she could have managed that.
Feeling defeated…and guilty, as she stroked the snoring dog’s head, she wondered what she had thought this would entail? Surely she didn’t really think Betsy could just occupy a seat next to her in the plane?
The truth was, she hadn’t thought. This had all happened so quickly anyway. Not only did she not know what she was expecting, but this was the first time in her life she had the burden and desire to care for another, even if that “other” was a dog.
Looking around the room and considering the general grandiosity of this place, she had no doubt Betsy would be very well cared for in her absence. But that wasn’t the point. She did not want to desert Betsy indefinitely, and truthfully, the dog made her feel safe. While she couldn’t explain this any more than she could explain most of her life right now, she felt they were together for a reason and it was mutually beneficial.
James had convinced her that she needed to make this flight…but she convinced herself that she needed to minimize the time she and her dog spent apart. She needed help and the first person who entered her mind was someone to whom she owed a call anyway. And, as if on cue – again—her phone rang.
She knew it was Sandy before she even answered it.
“How did you know I was getting ready to call?” she asked with a smile.
“It was your conscience calling. Or maybe I am your conscience calling. You owed me a call, you know…and besides, I have more news. Where are you?” He spoke as if they’d been communicating on personal terms for years rather than days. And she responded in kind.
“Omaha. What did you want to tell me? Don’t tell me you already closed on your bar?”
“You first… my news is good, with an interesting, but not earth-shattering twist.”
She hadn’t had time to figure out what, exactly, she was going to ask of him….and she suddenly remembered her thoughts the day before about just maybe feeling him out to be a temporary companion. She opened her mouth, then she closed it.
This was ridiculous. How well did they really know each other….
“Johnnie… Johnnie One? You there?” he said this teasingly, but sounded a little worried in the process.
“Yeah, Sandy. I am.” Then she held her breath and clamped her eyes shut. The first four words were the hardest.
“I need your help and I can’t tell you completely why, yet, and I’m going to be asking a lot. First a little, then a lot. And pretty soon.” She breathed in a little more air, then let it all out, waiting for rejection, or perhaps a comment insinuating she was crazy. But, at least she’d thrown it out there. Her eyes popped open when he responded casually and quickly.
“Haven’t I told you, anything for you? C’mon, little sister, you�
�re singing my song… no such thing as ‘too soon,’ or probably even too much. I really have no close friends here. I have almost no possessions and for the first time in my life, I have loads of time and money and not a clue what to do next. I gave power of attorney to the only person around here that I trust…so he can manage the bar closure and final details. I want to get the hell out of Dodge. Tell me what you need, then I’ll tell you something funny.”
Johnnie hesitated, ever so slightly, sliding back just for a second into her old self: never beholden to anyone, ever, for anything.
“Sandy, could you hold on for just a second?” Her tone inferred she needed to do something…and she did. She needed to control her conflicting emotions which engaged in what felt like physical assault.
Hand over phone, she navigated an onslaught of thoughts and feelings. With the force of a fire hose, she allowed the last day’s events and thoughts to create a mental list; a list she needed to fight off her most natural tendencies to push others away.
This was a new reality: she knew she needed help, her new friends had reinforced this notion and her own brother told her, in so many words that she… OK, that was clear. Then she briefly remembered her own resolution to seize the goodness in coincidence rather than run from it. Things were lining up whether she liked it or not.
Don’t be a fool…just do this!
And with that, her final front of resistance fell and she told Sandy, in limited terms, that for starters, she just needed more help with Betsy. Then she told him she was wondering if when they met again, if he might consider just hanging out while she worked through ‘some things.’ Sort of a body guard thing, but kind of a companion. She promised to explain more later.
“Let’s make this easy… YES. There you go.” He laughed, in spite of himself. “You, again, just solved a big problem for me because I had no freakin’ idea what I was going to do next. Actually, I’m diggin’ this.”
She sat in stunned silence, trying to figure out, in exact terms, what she was going to ask him to do about getting Betsy from point A to point B. He, however, kept talking.
The Unlikely Savior (The Unlikely Savior Trilogy) Page 22
