Tyler, the daytime tool pusher he worked for, was a mean-spirited bully who sought out the smaller and weaker guys in the crew. These were either too afraid of losing their jobs or weren’t strong enough to mount a defense on him.
The first day on the job, Ronald had been tasked with cleaning a small vent that had become clogged with sea salt and grease. Ronald hadn’t been moving fast enough to suit the tool pusher. Tyler came up behind Ronald and hit him on the back of the head with an open palm. Ronald had never seen the raised hand of the pusher. He hadn’t expected to be hit from behind, so when the blow landed, Ronald’s green hard hat had skittered across the open deck, stopping just short of going over the side.
Ronald himself had toppled over, landing hard on his shoulder, the fabric of his T-shirt tearing, allowing his exposed skin to be ripped open by the rough non-skid floor. This caused the blood to run down his arm. Tyler stood over him, shaking his fist and shouting: “You slow moving worm! The next time you’re told to do something, you move like your ass is on fire! You understand me shitbag?”
Confused and a little dazed, Ronald had just nodded his head in agreement. Rolling over onto his side and using his good arm, he had pulled himself up.
Tyler grabbed him and spun him around, looking at the blood running down his arm. “Just a little blood. Yer not hurt, farm kid. Go on back down to your bunk and put a maxi pad on it if you have to. Don’t want you bleeding on my deck.”
Ronald looked Tyler in the eyes, nodded once, and then reached down to an oil casing covered in grease. He got two fingers of oil-encrusted grease and then wiped them on the open wound. Tyler’s eyes bugged out slightly, his mouth going slack. Neither man spoke as they parted ways but Tyler made a mental note to give this new kid some room. The look in his eyes had gone right to the core of Tyler’s manhood, scaring him. He felt as if the kid had reached into his soul and had measured him for a coffin. He shuddered just thinking about it.
Oil rigs are small places and there are very few secrets that are kept from each other. Three men had seen what Tyler had done and they had also witnessed what the new kid had done in response. The feeling on the rig was that the new kid would retaliate.
A week would pass without incident. Then, on a Thursday afternoon, as the day crew was beginning to wind down for the day, Tyler was the last man coming out of the control room. Rounding the corner and on his way to the head, Ronald was coming towards him. Tyler’s eyes went a little wide when he saw the large pipe wrench that Ronald was holding, but Ronald had merely nodded his head in acknowledgement of Tyler’s presence. Both men passed and gave each other a wide berth without incident. Tyler began to relax, feeling a little embarrassed about how he had reacted.
Ronald had done a quick three count as they passed each other and then had turned and brought the wrench down hard on Tyler’s shoulder, the heavy pipe wrench breaking bone and lacerating the skin. Tyler went to his knees, a scream beginning to rise out of his chest until he felt a cloth-covered hand come over his mouth, shutting off his cries of pain.
Ronald leaned down and whispered into Tyler’s ear. “Ah, Mr. Tool Pusher, you appear to have had an accident with a wrench. And poor thing, you seem to be bleeding. Allow me to help you up.”
Then Ronald had dropped the wrench and placed both hands under the arms of the hurt foreman, helping him up. “Come on now, Mr. Tool Pusher, you’re not hurt that badly. I can see you need some air though. Let me help you outside.”
Tyler was hurt and scared, but there was no way he was going to let this kid take him outside. He’d pushed against Ronald and tried to get away, but Ronald had a grip that was sculpted out of years of outdoor hunting and working in the construction fields. When Ronald laid hands on you, you knew you weren’t going anywhere. Every time Tyler tried to get free, Ronald’s grip sucked up that much tighter.
“Get your hands off me, you little fuck!” Tyler screamed.
Ronald’s right hand let go and snaked around Tyler’s neck. Then with his left hand and left leg, he pushed up, dislodging Tyler’s legs and dropping him to the deck. The arm around his neck was acting like a hangman’s noose. Tyler’s arms and legs shot out, looking for a purchase to regain his balance. At the same time, his hands clawed at the arm around his neck.
When Tyler’s legs started to get traction, Ronald let go and Tyler fell to the floor in a heap. His hands rubbed his neck and shoulder. Tyler was trying in vain to get his breath back. Ronald had stepped back out of Tyler’s view and watched with mild amusement as Tyler tried to regain his balance and composure. Tyler sputtered and flailed for a good two minutes before he stood up and faced Ronald.
“You’re going pay for this!” Tyler screamed wildly.
“No, I’m not,” Ronald replied calmly.
Tyler stepped toward Ronald, which was exactly what Ronald had hoped for. Tyler never saw the ball peen hammer that Ronald had hidden behind his back. Ronald swung the hammer with all his might, the lightweight tool making contact with Tyler’s jaw, dislocating and breaking it, causing his teeth to fly like Chicklets onto the polished floor.
He slumped to the floor in agony, blood and teeth running down his chin. He groaned in pain. Ronald took the toe of his boot and used it to raise Tyler’s head. Their eyes met.
“Huh, you don’t look so good Mr. Tool Pusher,” Ronald said.
“Please…” Tyler begged.
Ronald took the hammer and turned it so that Tyler could see the top part of the hammer. “Allow me to help you with that.”
He jacked the top of the hammer into the bridge of Tyler’s nose, breaking the cartilage and sending a fresh volume of blood down Tyler’s face. The pitiful wails Tyler made had signaled his defeat.
After that, Ronald dragged and carried Tyler outside. Tyler was helpless to stop Ronald from what he was about to do. His arms were listless in their attempts to stop him.
Ronald took chains and lines of rope to tie him off, then hoisted Tyler up until he could see the black sea below them.
“Dear God, please… I’m sorry, I never should have….” The words trailing off into screams as Ronald tossed him over the side. The chains and line he had used were just long enough to keep Tyler from reaching the water. The chain and rope, having no give to them, snapped Tyler’s hips out of their sockets.
Ronald had leaned over the railing and listened. He heard the cries and screams from below, but only because he was listening for it. He smiled to himself. Having never been on the ocean, he wasn’t sure if the blood dripping into the water would attract sharks and if so, if they would just swim around or if they would come out of the water for him. Either way, Ronald was pretty sure Tyler would never be a problem again.
The next morning, the Offshore Installation Manager (OIM) found Tyler swinging on a chain. He signaled for a man overboard. Bells and sirens blew all across the rig as an announcement was broadcast over the PA. All hands stormed to the weather decks to assist with the man overboard. When they hauled Tyler up, he was hypothermic and catatonic. The fact he was even alive was a miracle, the rig medics would later say.
The men on the rig stood around Tyler as first aid was given to him. The OIM peppered him with questions as to who had done this. Tyler began to spew unintelligible garble, his broken and dislocated jaw and the missing teeth adding to his new speech problems. His broken nose had filled with blood, causing his eyes to turn almost black and distorting his features. His words were nonsensical until his eyes met Ronald’s. Then Tyler’s eyes rolled back into his skull and he passed out.
That afternoon, the OIM had Tyler flown to a hospital in Houston. As the helicopter left the rig, the overnight Tool Pusher came up behind Ronald and said into his ear “I saw what you did with Tyler last night. You’ve got talents that aren’t meant for this rig. Come talk to me later about a job opportunity you would be perfect for.”
Two months later, Ronald was transported to what might as well have been another planet, with it owns rules and where Ronald woul
d learn for the first time that the word ‘mechanic’ didn’t always mean grease monkey.
Ronald heard sometime later that Tyler was suffering from a severe and debilitating form of PTSD that regulated him to a mental hospital. When he heard the news he just smiled.
***
When Ronald exited the tunnel, Jessica was waiting for him in the kitchen. He noticed she had cleaned up all the brass from the shootout and had placed plastic and particle boards over the bullet holes in the walls and windows. She had also thrown the TV out with the garbage, vacuumed, dusted and generally made the place as neat as she could.
Jessica had also taken the time to make dinner for the two of them and while she was waiting for him to return, she had packed both of their suitcases. Plus, she had taken the time to put herself together. There was no way she was staying another night here until whoever was out there was under arrest or dead. And at this point, she really didn’t care which one it was.
“You made dinner?” Ronald asked.
“Well, I figured you taking me out was a non-starter and I was pretty sure you didn’t want the pizza man coming down the road. I was afraid you’d shoot him before he made the driveway and I’m not real fond of pizza that has spent bullet toppings.” Jessica replied.
“Spent bullet toppings?” Ronald said. “That doesn’t even sound good, too much iron. And speaking strictly as a man, I don’t need the extra iron in my diet like you do,” he joked.
“Really Ronald, sexist jokes after what happened last night?” she asked.
Ronald grimaced, “Sorry Jess. I really am sorry about what happened.”
“Ronald, you told me when we got together that you were going to earn a living on the straight and narrow. Now, I’ve always known you weren’t working within the bounds of the law in the past. But you promised me that your life would never find us here! You promised me, Ronald! And I believed you,” Jessica said as she began to cry again.
“I’m not sure what you expect from me at the moment. Jess. I told you I was clean and I am. Whoever did this,” Ronald said as his arms swept across the room, “is obviously not from current events now, are they?”
“How would I know that, Ronald?” she screamed. “I have never asked you what you did before we were together. And Walt always told me to ask you. So I’m asking you, Ronald, what you could have done that is so horrible that an armed gunman would come to our home and try and kill us,” she demanded.
Ronald’s eyes were looking at the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye. If she knew not only what he had done, but the body count he had left in his wake, he knew she would leave him right there and then. Hell, she might even go to the law and turn him in. And he really couldn’t blame her. Other than a few women who were in the life like he was, he couldn’t think of a single woman he had ever met who could share a bed with a stone cold killer.
“Jess…” his words trailed off.
“No,” she interrupted him. “Don’t lie to me right now Ronald. Whatever you were going to say, just don’t.”
Ronald’s face flushed red with embarrassment. That was exactly what he was about to do. And he knew then he would lose her. As soon as she knew, there would be no amount of apologizing he could ever do that would keep them together. “Alright, I won’t say it.”
“My brother is going to be here in a day or so, to help you sort this out. And when it’s sorted out, then you can tell me. Okay?” Jessica said.
“I… don’t know… if that is such a good idea Jessica,” Ronald said grimly.
“Well, it’s going to have to be. And I’ll tell you what, you’re not the only one who is going to be out of sorts over this. Because I am going to Lori’s until this is over with,” Jessica stated with firmness.
“No! I mean, wait. Can’t we talk about this before you do something rash?” Ronald pleaded.
“Noooo! It’s done. All I need for you to do is arrange the airfare. Please, Ronald… for us. Just please do this for me right now. I can’t be around you because every time I look at you, all I see is death,” she said flatly.
Ronald nodded his head and then turned and went into the office. Inside were several forged IDs he kept on hand as well as credit cards that would be good for a few purchases before they were cut off. He went in and sat down at the antique desk they had bought together six years prior. Ronald picked through them until he found the one he wanted. He flipped through the credit cards until he found the one that matched the ID.
Then he got up, walked into the kitchen and handed them to her. “Here, take these. The ID will be good for as long as you need it, but the cards will only work for a couple of weeks at best. Stay away from big-ticket items like TVs. When you get to the airport, buy a ticket to Denver or Minneapolis But not Salt Lake. After that, use the new IDs and cards to buy a ticket on a different airline to a city somewhere else in the US. Try and stay away from large markets. Go someplace like Springfield, then drive to wherever you’re going or to a different airport. Make sure you dump the ID and cards after every city. That way, if someone is on to you it will make it harder for them to track you.”
She looked down at the cards in his hands and then back up at him. She noticed a hint of pain inside the creases of his eyes, but that was all. The speech he had just given her had been delivered in a robotic fashion. Now she began to get scared. At this moment, she realized she didn’t know him at all.
“No, I can stay. Maybe I should,” she said.
“Jessica, you’re right about needing to get away from me and this place,” he said, his hands waving around the house.
“But...” she started.
“Shush now,” he chided her.
“What about Walt?” she asked him.
“Walt is a big boy. We’ll be just fine together. Be like it was when we were in school,” Ronald replied.
Jessica started to cry again, this time the sobs began to rack her body with grief. Ronald moved to comfort her, but she shied away from him. He stood, still unsure of what to do. Her sobbing continued until he couldn’t take it anymore. After that, she allowed him to hold her until she was finally able to get herself under control.
“I’m fine. I just need to put myself back together and then you need to take me to the airport.”
“Okay,” was all he could say.
Jessica stood up and moved to the bathroom. She closed the door behind her and locked it, leaving Ronald to an empty and lonely house.
Chapter 11
When I left Florida this morning, the temperature was in the mid-eighties and the weather was balmy without a cloud in the sky. Now I’m in Denver, waiting for my connection to Grand Junction, and the sky is overcast. There is snow on the ground and everyone but me is wearing a coat. I try and put up a good front but I’m pretty sure everyone sees right through my facade.
The money Ronald wired me had shown up the following morning, which is a nice way to greet the day. Ten thousand dollars in your bank account always helps to make you very happy. After buying an airline ticket, I am now down a grand. That’s the thing with same day flying–if you want a ticket, then get ready to pony up the cash because it’s going to cost you a lot of money to fly.
Thankfully, I am a veteran of the air wars and know the routine. I would have used Air Miles for this trip, but my ex-wife had already spent those. So now I am reduced to using my own money for travel. Err, I mean Ronald’s money. I feel a little slimy for using it and I confess that when I was booking the flight, I was wondering how many people had to go the way of the Gipper for him to have that much money lying about.
I am consoled only by the fact that I do know for certain there is a gentleman from Florida who gave it all for this trip. Or at least this is what I tell myself. And I’m sure that at least part of this money was from the Charley Shannon hit.
For once I don’t have to worry about paying for the cheapest fares, so I go the whole hog and buy the first class ticket from Florida to Denver. It was worth
every penny, and the free booze I had along the way didn’t hurt either. I reflect back to what Ronald had said about using the money for booze or drugs. But since I have used it for an airline ticket and there was booze being served free of charge, then I really wasn’t using the money for booze. It’s what I like to call win, win!
But sadly, by the two hour mark, the flight attendant decided I’d hit my limit and cut me off. So I did what all good drunks do. I passed out and slept the rest of the way to Denver.
But now I am in Denver, waiting for my connection. The booze from the flight has worn off and I am in need of another nap. This will have to wait because at any minute I will be boarding my flight to Grand Junction.
There is a lull in the traffic when I feel my phone vibrate on my hip. This time I check the caller ID and see it’s Ronald. I don’t feel like going fifteen rounds with him so I let it go to voicemail. He calls back. I let that go to voicemail too.
The third time he calls, I answer it.
“I’m boarding a flight so can it wait an hour,” I say.
“You’re just now boarding?” Ronald asks me.
“I am. So what can I do for you or can this just wait sixty minutes?” I ask.
“Just so you know, your sister has left and is headed to Florida to see your ex and your kids,” Ronald replies, deadpan.
“Whoa, what do you mean she’s headed to Florida?”
“She decided it would be best to set this one out until we have some answers and I can assure her our house won’t be subjected to target practice.”
On The Devil's Side of Heaven Page 6
