by Terry Yates
“Clean up on aisle three!” a female voice bellowed over the intercom.
A few seconds later, an annoyed grocery clerk, an acne-covered young man of about seventeen, appeared with a mop and a bucket, looked at Kyler and sighed. Shaking his head, he began to mop up the tomato sauce. The mother of the child grabbed her son, gave Kyler one last angry look, and then disappeared around the next aisle.
“Excuse me,” Kyler bade softly, trying to move around the clerk, but not having much luck. Christ, two million homeless, and these people are annoyed with a little red sauce.
Several weeks had gone by now, and Kyler had needed some things, so he asked Gen. Mueller if he could requisition a jeep for him to use. He’d noticed with Potts on the island, and now with Mueller, that asking them if they ‘could’ do something got them what they needed quicker, than asking them if they ‘would’ do something. In an officer’s ears, asking them if they ‘could’ do something was tantamount to questioning their power. ‘Could you’ means ‘are you capable of’, which will get an officer’s ego up quicker than a teenage boy’s libido. Mueller had the jeep and a driver within fifteen minutes, and he seemed a slight perturbed that it took that long. Kyler went around to Sam and FranAnne, who each made him a short list of necessities. Zack had declined anything. He just shook his head no every time Kyler asked him if he was sure he didn’t need anything. He got a list from his roomies, Willette and Hebman, who surprisingly enough didn’t need as much he would’ve guessed. They were both a tad high-maintenance in his eyes, but oh well. Even though their list was extremely short, there was no way Kyler was buying condoms…especially “Slim Fit”.
As Kyler turned the corner of the next aisle, he saw someone…a little girl…round the corner at the other end of the aisle…a girl with bushy auburn hair. It couldn’t be. She’d been holding someone’s hand, but they had gone around the corner before Kyler could see whose hand she was holding. Could it be Lauren, he wondered. He had his arms full of cans…he hadn’t thought of getting a basket when he’d entered the store. He began to almost juggle the cans as he tried to set them on a shelf, so that he could chase Lauren. He was successful with all of the cans, except one…a can of beets, which crashed to the floor and broke open, spilling its contents across the aisle.
“God dammit!” came a voice from the next aisle.
Kyler was on the next aisle before the disgruntled grocery clerk had yelled “Shit!”.
When he rounded the corner, he saw her. It was Lauren. She was standing with a large, paunchy man, who had his hand on her shoulder. With his other hand, he took down a large can of Jiffy Peanut Butter.
“Lauren?” Kyler asked softly.
Lauren and the man turned their heads toward him. When she saw him, her face lit up.
“Dr. Kyler!” she squealed.
Before the man knew what was happening, Lauren ran out from under his arm and sprinted toward Kyler. When she reached him, Kyler bent down and opened his arms, and she buried her face in his chest. He kissed the top of Lauren’s head, then pulled her away, and placed both hands to her cheeks.
“Hello, Lauren,” he said, this time kissing her forehead.
“Hello, Dr. Kyler,” she answered.
Kyler looked at the eleven-year-old girl. Her face was still yellow from the peritonitis caused by her burst appendix. The yellow of her face intensified her bright green eyes and white teeth. Her hair was dirty and greasy, and each of her cheeks had dirt on them. She wore a white shirt that was also filthy, not to mention three times too big for her. She’d probably been wearing the same clothes since she’d left two weeks ago.
“How are you, Sweetie?”
Kyler watched her face drop. She was about to mouth something when the large man approached them. Kyler let go of Lauren and stood up, keeping a hand on her shoulder. As he straightened up, Kyler realized that he was still looking up at the man. Looking into the man’s face, Kyler realized that the man was younger than he first appeared. With his long, greasy, receding hair, Kyler had thought him to be in his forties, but up close, he saw that the man was in his mid-twenties. He had a fat, jowly face with a stomach to match. This guy had to be six-four, and at least two hundred and ninety pounds. He wore a dirty t-shirt under an open orange Hawaiian shirt. He sneered, the gap in his teeth large enough to drive a truck through…sideways.
“This is Maurice,” Lauren said timidly.
Kyler wanted to laugh, but didn’t…for two reasons. One was the man’s size…and the other was that he never laughed at a person’s name. His name was Richard…naturally shortened to Dick by his Jr. High contemporaries, and he suffered greatly for it. “Dick Killer”, “Dick Caller”, “Dick Collar”…none of them were pleasant, so he had made it a point to never tease or laugh at anyone’s name even though he’d known people with names like Fuchs, Krapster, and Greathead.
“Hello,” he said sheepishly, extending his hand.
The man looked down at Kyler’s hand, then reached down and shook it limply. Kyler wanted to wretch. It felt like he was shaking hands with an eel.
“Hey,” the man answered softly, looking at Kyler as if he were a dog turd that he particularly wanted to avoid.
“How are you, Lauren?” Kyler asked, looking away from the man and down at Lauren.
She looked up at Maurice, then back again to Kyler.
“I’m good,” she answered.
Kyler looked into her eyes. This wasn’t the Lauren he’d known on the island, or even in the refugee camp for that matter. This Lauren looked beaten down. Her eyes were still green, but the glimmer was gone. That spark…that twinkle that made her so special had flickered out. It was gone.
“You’re good? Really?”
Kyler looked away from Lauren and back up at Maurice. He was looking down at Lauren. His face was expressionless, but there was something ominous about it. Lauren looked back up at him also. Kyler saw his eyebrows raise a little. Lauren turned away from him and back to Kyler.
“Yes,” she answered softly.
“Come on, Lauren. We gotta go,” Maurice said, placing his hand on her shoulder again.
Lauren nodded her head. “Bye, Dr. Kyler,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, before taking Maurice’s hand and turning to walk away.
She looked over her shoulder at Kyler one last time before disappearing around the end of the aisle. Kyler moved up the aisle and watched them as they got in checkout line. He was appalled at the way Lauren looked and even more so at the way she acted. Something was wrong, but what could he do about it?
CHAPTER 18
Kyler had gone through his checkout line faster than Lauren and Maurice. The supermarket was so crowded because of the new refugees and homeless, that the average time to stand in line was almost a half-hour. He walked outside and looked back in through the window. Maurice pushed their five or six items down the belt and in front of the cashier, a middle-aged lady, who looked like she’d been cashiering her whole life. Lauren looked straight ahead as Maurice pulled out a large wad of bills and handed several of them to the checker. The pimply-faced sacker with the mop and bucket walked up and put the items in a sack and walked away. Maurice put his hand on Lauren’s shoulder and pulled her away. Kyler hid around the corner near the opposite entrance as Maurice walked out, Lauren in tow. He still had his hand on her shoulder as they crossed into the parking lot. Kyler was disgusted seeing the man touching Lauren, but what could he do? If this man was her legal guardian, he couldn’t do anything. He continued to watch them as they dodged through the myriad of park vehicles, finally stopping at a brand-spanking new, black Dodge Truck. He didn’t know his trucks that well, but he knew a new one when he saw it.
Maurice kept his hand on Lauren’s shoulder as he unlocked the passenger door. She climbed up into the truck and Maurice closed the door after her and walked around to the driver’s side and got in. Kyler watched them both fasten their seat belts. He wanted to do something, but he didn’t know what. She didn’t seem i
n very capable hands. As a matter of fact, Maurice downright gave him the willies.
As the car backed out of the parking space, Kyler walked into the parking lane. He watched as Maurice put the car in drive and began to head toward him. He took no notice of Kyler as the truck passed him, but Lauren turned her head and looked him straight in the eye, but her yellow face remained expressionless. As the sunlight bounced off the glass, he thought he saw something written on the window. It looked like…no, he must be seeing things. It was a mirage, because if it had been written on the window, Maurice would’ve probably seen it when he closed the door after her, but Kyler was almost positive he had seen the word “Help” as the truck drove by.
CHAPTER 19
The jeep pulled to a stop in front of the house. It was small, wooden and dingy-yellow in appearance, as were most of the other houses on the street. Kyler saw more wood than peeled paint. There had once been a picket fence around the front yard, but now it was old and rotten, and most of it was lying in the yard, which was covered with high weeds. An old lawn chair sat almost hidden in the weeds. It had been red at one time and looked like it hadn’t been used in years. It looked as if someone just said “fuck it” one day and walked away, leaving the high grass to grow even higher. There were tires and other car parts scattered about the yard. It reminded Kyler of the island after the two hurricanes had struck, except this yard might’ve looked worse. The only things that looked brand new were Maurice’s black Dodge truck and a dark blue Lexus.
“Leave the engine running,” Kyler told the driver, a Pvt. Carson, who silently nodded his head.
Kyler hopped out of the jeep. He looked at the house, not even sure what he was going to do when he got there…but he was going in. His stomach began to quiver and his knees began to shake. Come on, he thought to himself. You can do this. You battled werewolves for God’s sake!
He looked back at Pvt. Carson, who just looked at him wondering what he was waiting for. Kyler forced a smile, then nodded his head. He took a deep breath before stepping onto the sidewalk. He sidestepped an old tire and walked up to the small wooden, dilapidated gate. He put his hand on the latch, and as soon as he did, the gate fell over, crashing onto the overgrown walkway. He stepped over the gate and turned around to pick it up, but he thought better of the idea. He might have to hightail it out of there and he didn’t want a gate in his way, dilapidated or pristine.
He proceeded down the walkway, looking around in the grass, half expecting a tiger to jump out. If there was one, it would be well hidden. Kyler walked up the four little steps, and then stepped onto the porch. He looked down and was surprised to see a door mat. Class bunch, these. It actually looked like a piece of Astroturf that had been cut into a rectangle, but it sufficed, he supposed.
Kyler took another deep breath. What was he going to do? Being both a pacifist and a devout coward, he didn’t see himself pummeling Maurice within an inch of his life, although he would love nothing more. It was just that height-x-weight-x-mass pretty much convinced him that he wouldn’t bet his last dollar on himself.
“Come on, Kyler,” he said gritting his teeth. “You can do this.”
He raised his fist in the knocking position and began to count backward from ten.
“…three…two…one…zero…blast off…and knock!”
With his eyes closed and his teeth gritted, Kyler knocked on the door. There! He’d done it, and what was done was done, and there was no going back…unless he just decided to leg it and take off running, but he knew that even HE wasn’t that cowardly. Yet.
He heard voices, followed by the sound of feet shuffling. Kyler heard a single set of footsteps. Someone was coming to the door. Please don’t be Maurice. Please don’t be Maurice. Please don’t be Maurice. The door opened and there stood Maurice. He was looking down at Kyler with the same expression he’d seen in the grocery store.
“You,” he said almost quizzically.
“Hello again,” Kyler said, trying to force a smile, but having immense difficulty. “Eh…is Lauren home?”
He tried to peak in behind Maurice, but Maurice saw it coming and turned sideways while pulling the door tighter around him.
“What do you want with Lauren?” he asked.
“I want to see her.”
“You just saw her twenty minutes ago.”
“Well, we’re old friends and I’d like to see her again. Let’s just say twenty minutes wasn’t enough. Now if you’ll…”
Before Kyler could finish, the door opened behind Maurice. He could see two large figures behind Maurice. Kyler wasn’t sure, but he would swear that both figures were taller than the exceptionally large man that stood before him.
“Who’s this?” came a voice from one of the figures.
“Man says he wants to see Lauren,” Maurice answered.
“Which one is Lauren?” the second figure asked.
“You know…Yellow Face.”
Kyler could feel his blood boiling. Had they just referred to Lauren as Yellow Face?
“Well, tell him he can’t see her,” came the voice of the second figure.
“My brother says you can’t see her,” Maurice said.
“Yeah, I heard him,” Kyler said,” but I still want to see her.”
“He says he still wants to see her.”
“Did you tell him I said he couldn’t see her?”
“Yeah.”
“Then tell him…”
“Look,” Kyler interrupted. “I came to see Lauren and I’m not going to leave till I see her.”
Kyler was a bit shocked with himself. He hadn’t expected to find himself so bold, especially with three large figures looming above him.
“Get out of the way. I’ll talk to him.”
Before Kyler knew what was happening, the door opened and a hand pushed Maurice aside. Out of the door walked not one, but two of the biggest men Kyler had ever stood next to. Both of them were at least two to three inches taller than Maurice, and in the ugly department they had him beat by three furlongs. One was completely bald with little scabs from shaving nicks all over his head. They reminded Kyler of one of those old Dot-to-Dot drawings that he and his classmates had so much fun with in the first grade. He wasn’t sure, but he thought that he saw the outline of a jack-o-lantern on the man’s head. He had a large belly and wore overalls with a t-shirt that Kyler hoped had always been yellow. He had a broad nose, no chin, and very few teeth. The other one was nearly as large, possibly and inch shorter, but somehow seemed scarier than either one of the other two, if that was possible.
“We told you…Lauren ain’t here,” the man said softly.
“And who might I be addressing?” Kyler asked, surprised at his own bravado.
“What?”
“Look, I know Lauren’s in there. You know Lauren’s in there. They know Lauren’s in there, so why don’t you just let me see her?”
“Maurice says you done already see’d her.”
“What did I tell you, Lyle?” Maurice spoke up as he stepped out onto the porch.
Kyler thought he heard the floorboards creak. The three of them, plus himself, made the porch rue the day it had ever been built.
“Look…whoever you are,” Lyle said, as he bent down into Kyler’s face. “You ain’t gonna see Yellow Face and that’s all they is to it.”
Kyler began to fume. He turned around to see Pvt. Carson conveniently looking the other direction. He wished so much at that moment, that he’d taken karate or tai kwon do, but he hadn’t and he wasn’t sure that it would even had worked on these three. Bruce Lee himself couldn’t have knocked down a building.
“I’m not leaving without seeing…” Kyler didn’t get to finish his sentence. Before he knew what was happening, Lyle and the nameless brother had picked him up under the arms and threw him backwards off of the porch. He landed flat on his back, his head hitting hard on the ground. He was just happy that there was so much grass that it broke his fall…not much, but a little.
> “Now leave, whoever-you-are,” Maurice said, before my brothers get really angry.
Kyler sat up. The fall had knocked the wind out of him. He sat up and tried to catch his breath. He looked over his shoulder and once again, the driver Carson was looking the other way. About the time his breath was returning, he saw the three brothers stepping off of the porch and into the yard. Kyler half expected them to walk over him, or at the very least, stand on top of him for a while, but they stopped in front of him. The three blocked out the sun as they loomed over him. From the front porch, he heard the front door open.
“What the hell’s goin’ on out here?” a female voice demanded.
“Nothin’, Mama,” Maurice answered, still glaring down at Kyler.
Kyler turned his gaze away from the brothers and onto the porch. There on the porch stood the three goons’ mother. She was short, portly, and there were patches of hair missing from atop her head. She wore a blue muumuu with yellow trim that went completely around the collar and down each side of the dress. He could just see her ankles, or the loose skin covering her ankles. Her face reminded Kyler of a cartoon he’d seen somewhere before. Her eyes were dark and almost cross-eyed. She had the same large, bulbous nose that was a noticeable trait of all three of her sons.
“What’s he doin’ in our yard then?” she asked.
“’Bout to leave, I reckon,” Maurice responded, looking down at Kyler who was painfully trying to get to his knees, but had to stop when a spasm shot through his back. “You are about to leave, ain’t ya’?” he asked, spitting on Kyler’s shirt. When he looked down, he saw that the saliva was thick and brown.
Kyler made his way onto his knees and with one big heave, stood up, worried that he might fall over sideways. Kyler looked up at Maurice. He had the biggest urge to send the toe of his shoe up through Maurice’s crotch like he had with Potts back on the island, but he looked over at the porch where the other two brothers had joined their mother, and all stood glaring at him, almost daring him to do anything, and common sense prevailed.
