Out Cold ddm-3

by Tom Schreck

  When the three of us came through AJ's front door, Rocco was making a point.

  "I'm tellin' ya-he served shoulder to shoulder with Lee Marvin in the Marines," Rocco said. "Captain Kangaroo, C'mon!" TC said.

  "Well, he did have the rank of captain," Jerry Number One said.

  "What about Mr. Cream Cheese. Was he in the Corps?" TC said.

  "Who the hell is Mr. Cream Cheese?" Rocco said.

  "The captain's best friend," TC said.

  "Green jeans," Jerry Number Two said.

  "What are you gonna wear them with?" Jerry Number one said. "I mean other than on St Patrick's Day."

  "That was Captain Kangaroo's best friend," Jerry Number Two.

  "You sound like a commercial for Levi's-'let your green jeans be your best friend.'" TC said.

  "I'm serious. Bob Keeshaw was a battle honored Marine," Rocco said.

  "What about Mr. Moose?" Jerry Number Two said.

  "He was governor of Minnesota a long time ago," TC said.

  "I thought he was a puppet," Jerry Number One said.

  "They all are beholden to special interests," Jerry Number Two said.

  "What the hell kind of special interests do Mooses have?" Rocco said.

  "Moose," Jerry Number Two said.

  "Yeah?" Rocco said.

  "It's 'Moose' not 'Mooses,'" Jerry Number Two said.

  "It could be Meese, couldn't it?" Jerry Number One said.

  "He was corrupt as hell," TC said.

  Karl stood and watched as though he was at a tennis game.

  "And they say I'm nuts…" Karl said.

  I took my seat next to Kelley, who silently watched the Classic Sports Instant Classic of last week's Arena Football game. I lifted Al up to his stool, to my right, and Karl sat next to him.

  "You always bring your clients out drinking?" Kelley said without turning around.

  "Special circumstances," I mumbled.

  Al stood up on the bar and walked down to say hello to Kelley. Kelley rubbed the top of his head, reached into his pocket, and slipped Al a snausage.

  "Everybody, this is my friend Karl," I said during the first three second lull in the discussion. The boys all shouted a hello. AJ slid a Schlitz in front of me. Karl ordered one for himself.

  "Cheeseburger for Shorty?" AJ said.

  "Sure," I said

  Al understood 'cheeseburger' and swagged his tail. Karl got up to use the bathroom. When he closed the door, Kelley turned to me.

  "Is that really a good idea? I mean how hard did you get hit on the head?"

  "He ain't got any place to go," I said. Kelley just shook his head.

  AJ came out with Al's burger and slid it in front of him. He remembered the sardines this time, so Al didn't bark at him.

  "Did you hear about lover boy over here?" AJ said, tilting his head toward Kelley. "Dating a forest ranger." That was all AJ said. If it wasn't Kelley, there'd be a volley of lines about how she likes his wood or his stump or something equally inane.

  People didn't kid with Kelley.

  I looked at him and raised my eyebrows.

  "She's with the state, as an environmental cop. I've been seeing her for a few months," he said.

  "Good for you," I didn't bust his balls or say anything else. I looked down the end of the bar and saw Karl and Rocco locked in deep conversation. I'm sure Rocco had wanted to know about the bandages and the scars. I could only imagine the direction that conversation took.

  AJ slid a fresh Schlitz in front of me and I turned toward the TV. MSNBC showed a graphic about the defense budget and a shot of protesters outside the Pentagon. They held signs about blood money and corruption.

  "Oh they won't like that," Karl said so everyone could hear.

  "Oh boy, the powers that be will get the ball rolling now."

  "What the hell are you talking about?" Rocco said.

  "Wait and see, my friend. Wait and see," Karl said.

  "Wait and see what?" TC said.

  "Let me see if I can remember. We're probably due for some sort of college campus tragedy," Karl said. Everyone stared at Karl and then they looked at me. I just shrugged.

  "What the hell are you talking about Karl?" Rocco said.

  "It's just that it's time for another domestic terrorist event, don't you think?" The sarcasm was thick.

  "You say it like you think it's bullshit," Jerry Number One said.

  "Depends how you define bullshit," Karl said.

  "Hold it pal. You're saying someone knows this shit is gonna happen?" Rocco said. Rocco wasn't happy.

  "Oh, someone knows. Someone definitely knows," Karl said

  "Who knows?" TC said.

  "Well, it ain't Mr. Moose," Karl said. The brain trust was beginning not to enjoy Karl's company.

  "Don't be a wise guy, pal." Rocco had pivoted in his seat.

  "What the hell are you trying to say?"

  "I'm sayin' watch your coincidence. Or at least, acknowledge they're there, man. Open your eyes!" Kelley tapped me on the shoulder and raised his eyebrows. He whispered, "Not sure I've ever seen the Foursome stomp a guy to death."

  "Keep focusing on Captain Kangaroo and Mr. Cream Cheese and you'll never see anything else…" This was getting bad. It was the first time I got to see the shit that got Karl's ass kicked, up close and personal. If he ran through this routine on a nightly basis it wasn't hard to see his assaults as part of a New World Order conspiracy. He was just getting his ass kicked for being an asshole and pissing everybody off.

  "Duffy, this is some friend you got here," TC said.

  "Yeah, some friend," Rocco said.

  Now, Karl pissed me off. AJ's is my oasis, my last bastion of idiocy, where I go to get away from the rest of the world. If Karl fucked it up for me I'd kill him. Time to split. I threw down the rest of a three-quarters-full Schlitz, woke up Al, and grabbed Karl by the elbow.

  "Say good night to all of your new friends."

  The guys offered muted 'good nights' saving their most enthusiastic ones for Al, who didn't annoy anyone, except for a hint of basset flatulence that always came post-AJ's grease burger.

  "But I didn't finish my brew," Karl said.

  "Oh, you're finished, Karl. Trust me, you're finished here tonight." He came along with Al and me, a bit hesitantly, but he came along.

  Inside the El Dorado, I was all over him.

  "Look Karl." I could feel the anger in my voice. It made my head throb as I started the car and slipped it into drive. "Those guys are my friends and if you want to piss people off all over town that's one thing, but I don't need you ruining my nights!"

  "Oh, I'm supposed to ignore the truth!"

  "How about ignore being an asshole!" I heard myself yell a little too loudly. I heard Al shuffle in the back seat. We drove on Central Ave. heading toward the park.

  "C'mon Duffy open your eyes. It's not hard to see what's been going on. They've been doing it for years."

  "What the hell are you even talking about!" I yelled even louder.

  "Open your eyes!"

  "If you know shit is going to happen, then say what it is!

  Otherwise shut the fuck up!"

  "You and your friends in denial can't handle the truth!" Karl yelled back at me.

  "That's it!" I made a sharp turn on to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes. I could feel Al slide into the back of my seat.

  I reached over and grabbed Karl by the collar and pulled him toward me.

  "Tell me what's going on! My fuckin' head is throbbing because a bunch of G.I. Joes whacked it. Before I met you, I never knew a single soldier. Now, if I'm close enough to you to get knocked out, then I'm close enough to know what you know."

  I got so angry my neck twitched and my head pulsed like there was some sort of pump inside it. I held Karl off the car seat, starring him in the eye. He looked terrified of my sudden anger and we stayed like that for a moment or so. It felt a lot longer.

  Karl started to cry, first just a little, then
he really broke down to sobs. He snorted and almost wailed and it got impossible to be angry with him. I let go of his shirt. He crawled into a fetal ball and pressed himself against the door like he wanted to disappear.

  "Shit, I'm sorry man." It was pathetic to see a man breakdown like this. It hurt to know I caused it, at least the cause for making him revisit the demons inside of him. Al whimpered in the back seat.

  Karl shivered now like he was freezing. He was all cried out, but he wasn't back in his right mind. Through his labored breathing he said something. I thought I heard him say

  "Newsman."

  "What's that Karl? Newsman? The media?"

  "No, Newstrom." He struggled to annunciate.

  "News storm? What the hell is that?" Karl sat up. Without looking at me, he wiped his tears and snot with the back of his hand.

  "Newstrom knows the whole story," Karl said.

  "The guy from high school?"

  "Yeah, you talked about him the other day."

  "What about him?"

  "We were best buddies and then he went over."

  "Over?"

  "We lived like Marines-you know- Semper Fi and all that bullshit. Always true, my ass." Karl started getting back to his right mind, such that it was.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "He sold out. He left the Corps and joined one of those 'private security' outfits. Mercenaries are what they are. Five times a soldier's pay and none of the rules. The only problem is when there's no war, there's a lot less work." He wasn't looking at me; he looked straight ahead.

  "What does it have to with all the conspiracy stuff?"

  "Newstrom once told me the privates would always have work for us. That it wasn't just going to be Afghanistan or Iraq. That they would always going to have work for us."

  "That's a long way from conspiracy shit, isn't it?"

  "Newstrom became an expert of all sorts of weird Black Operations shit. He knew how to handle POWs; he knew how to get people to believe what he wanted them to believe and, well, he was something else, too."

  "What?"

  "He was the best at killing."

  I took a big exhale. I tried to follow what Karl said and trying to get my head from throbbing.

  "Karl, I still don't get it."

  "After I got fucked up, Newstrom came for me. He thought I would join up with his private security deal, an outfit called Blackgard. I didn't want anything to do with it. He thought it was because I thought the work wouldn't have been steady enough."

  "Yeah?"

  "Newstrom said one of the VPs told him something, with much more detail, about their plans for insuring they'd stay profitable."

  "And?"

  "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

  "Karl, what the hell are you talking about?"

  "Duffy what happens every time there's an instance of domestic terrorism, or for that matter, domestic tragedy?"

  "I don't know. The news covers it to death, people mourn, and everyone talks about it until the next thing. That's all you have talked about since I've met you."

  "Did you know earlier this week the senate approved another 100 billion dollars in defense funding?"

  "No."

  "Exactly."

  "You're saying somehow somebody or group is engineering these things you're predicting for their own profit?"

  "That's what I'm saying."

  "You got any proof?"

  Karl stopped and took a heavy breath. He looked out the window, down at his hands. He took another deep breath and then looked at me.

  "Newstrom came to Germany to visit me. He had some documents he wasn't supposed to have and he showed them to me. It outlined all the shit that's been happening."

  "The fire, the People's Church, the poison?"

  "Yeah. It was all spelled out in detail. They had pages and pages for how the shit was going to be carried out, the strategy behind it, and how to identify the people who would do it"

  "You mean this Blackgard is doing all this domestic terrorist shit?"

  "They might as well be. They find people and groups who are whacked out and close to doing this kind of shit, and they get them going."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It's the Black Operations stuff. Newstrom can take a group and amp them up so they're ready to take it to the next level. The result…well, we've seen the results."

  "And no one pins Newstrom or Blackgard."

  "Yep."

  " Newstrom showed you this document? Did you get a copy?"

  "No. That's why I can't give you specifics. Newstrom has to identify the groups to carry the shit out. I got a sense of what's coming, but I can't say exactly when or where." I took a deep breath and tried to sort this shit out

  "Duffy, I wanted no part of it and backed out. The guys who run Blackgard caught Newstrom with the documents and confronted him. He told them I saw them. Newstrom signed on for life with them, so the secret's safe with him. They were pissed at him, but he was too valuable to lose."

  "And you?"

  "I was still being treated for PTSD. Right around that time the doctor, good 'ol Dr. Theodore Martin, put me on medication."

  "I know that name from some where."

  "He's the guy on TV breaking down traumatic events and their psychological impact-what a crock."

  "What happened when you got on medication?"

  "Since then I've been fucked up…crazy, scared, doing drugs, paranoid. Duffy…I was never nuts before. I mean the kid thing fucked me up, but I was sane. They did something to me after I knew about the plan."

  "So you think the VA conspired with Newstrom?"

  "Well probably not systemically. Newstrom has wide connections. He probably only had to make a call to a doctor, who started prescribing shit he knew would scramble my brain. The funny thing is the doctor who came on board to prescribe me the shit, is now the guy you see on TV talking about the emotional effects of terrorism after each of these events occur."

  "The shrink commentator?"

  "Yeah. Can you believe it?"

  My head spun so fast and throbbing so hard I had no idea what to believe. The pieces fit together a bit more, but Karl was still nuts-even by his own admission. He was a smart guy. I guess crazy and smart will add up to pretty good stories. I didn't know what to think.

  I did have one question though. "So what happens next?"

  "You remember Virginia Tech?" Karl said looking straight ahead.

  "Yeah."

  "You remember Columbine?"

  "Yeah."

  Karl took a deep breath. "You ain't seen nothing."

  23

  The blood kept coming and coming. I stood over the cop, watching him die. He was in and out of consciousness and when I tried to put my hand on the wound, my hand got lost in the blood. At first I thought my hand disappeared, but then I felt this horrible pull. I was being pulled through the cop's bloody wound, first my arm, then my shoulder. There was a horrible growl like the wound was alive, and it sucked me in. My head was covered and everything I saw was crimson. I couldn't breathe, because I was choking on the cop's wound from the inside out. It was swallowing me and choking me at the same time. I screamed, but nothing came out because I was smothered in blood. Suddenly, I felt wetness different than the blood and a scratchiness, followed again by more wetness and then a loud piercing shout.

  My eyes opened and I looked right into the dark eyes of whatever beast had grabbed me. It licked me again and I realized the beast was Al.

  Another fucking nightmare and I was covered in sweat and breathing hard. I looked around. Slowly, the inside of the Moody Blue came into focus. I was home, I was okay, and little by little reality replaced the dream state.

  "Welcome back," Karl said from the threshold of my bedroom.

  "You could hear me?"

  "Blood curdling screams are tough to miss."

  "How long did I do it?" I sat up and wiped the sweat from my forehead.

  "Half an hour with intensity,
but on and off most of the night."

  "You were up all night?"

  "I'm not big on sleep."

  Al flopped off the bed and went over to Karl, who scratched underneath Al's chin. It made Al's rear leg spasm and he loved it.

  "I'm sorry for getting a little rough with you last night. I'm a little fucked up lately," I said.

  "No sweat. I had it coming," Karl said. I threw in Elvis's comeback 8-track to give my mind something other than the nightmare to think about. It was cued up to 'Guitar Man.'

  I grabbed a cup of coffee and tried to sing along. The words went too fast for me, especially when I was under-caffeinated. I couldn't get my lips around the phrase '…so I slept in the hobo jungle…' without blowing the line.

  "I wondered what Elvis would've been like if they hadn't got to him," Karl said, half to himself.

  Under caffeinated or not I couldn't let this statement just hang out there.

  "Karl, I don't take statements about Elvis lightly. You want to give me a run down on the meaning of that last statement?" I sipped my coffee.

  "It's pretty obvious isn't?"

  "No, Karl, it isn't obvious at all." I got a tad annoyed.

  "When Elvis started out what kind of music did he do?" Karl asked. Karl used his Socratic tone of voice.

  "Well they called it R amp; B or race music. Basically he did Black music."

  "He wiggled."

  "Right, he expressed himself sexually in a way only black performers did. He opened up the world to a different culture."

  "Yeah, I guess you could say it like that." I wasn't sure where Karl was going.

  "So now black kids and white kids sang and danced to the same stuff. Then what happened?"

  "I don't know; he went into the Army, I guess."

  "He got drafted. In a peace time draft, the government takes the first guy to integrate the culture with popular music and put him away for two years."

  " Hmm…I never thought of it in those terms."

  "And if you're a student of Elvisology you know what happened to the King over in Germany, don't you?"