Desperado Dale (Scenic Route to Paradise)

by Andrea Aarons

  The man returned with two small cups of thick black coffee and a short pitcher, filled and steaming milk. He set the tray down in front of Mr Adams.

  “So you were here during World War II?” the waiter asked the older man continuing their earlier discussion.

  “Oh, sorry no I didn’t mean I was actually here on the island. I worked with several members of the underground in France and then in Germany after the war, too,” Dale’s grandfather explained.

  In her wiry voice, Jellybean said proudly, “Mr Adams was known as Berlin Billie back then... or just Bernie. In those days, we knew a young couple by the name of Manikas and they were from here. I suppose they are very old now as that was back in 1948.”

  Anna having made Gwyneth comfortable, turned her attention to the younger man standing above them. He was very Greek looking according to her standards; the dark hair and eyes, straight nose set above dramatic lips. He was about her age - 30ish and her height at five foot six although he looked as strong as a bull with broad muscular shoulders and forearms.

  After some minutes of trading information and talking history, Anna was ready to order a bite to eat.

  “Call me Nick,” he was saying and so Anna interrupted.

  “Nick, you don’t have Baklava do you? I have had a craving for some Baklava for weeks,” she asked in Greek.

  He laughed but shook his head, “No! That is not one of our specialties. Let me go see what we have and I’ll be right back.”

  While Nick was inside, “Mr Adams” (as Bean usually referred to her ex-husband), began recounting the illustrious qualities of the Greeks and especially the Kerkyrians compared to the French. Anna nodded several times in agreement because everything Greek to her was above average, if not excellent. Although she had nothing against the French or any other particular nationality, Dale’s grandfather’s speech was absolutely correct from her viewpoint.

  Nick came out the red door with dishes and tableware, a platter of food, a pitcher of water and two bottled soft drinks for Anna and Gwyneth. He returned inside as they examined the foods before them. Anna was quite pleased with the edible mosaic he served which included a little bit of several Greek dishes familiar to her.

  Some time later, Nick came out with a cell phone to his ear as Gwennie was taking the last bite of the Mousaka.

  “You beat the French out my boy - You Greeks always do!” exclaimed Mr Adams. Both Nick and Anna nodded in agreement. Jellybean was directing Gwyneth’s attention toward a large white butterfly which had landed on the balcony flowers. The old man said, “If I didn’t know better I would say that these were leftovers from your Aunt Sophia’s dinner preparations last night.”

  Nick, smiling as he hung up, absentmindedly nodded again. “Actually, my Aunt Olympia’s fine cooking,” he told them before adding, “I must be going. Please, drop in anytime.” Nick was pulling down his sleeves and buttoning the cuffs as he spoke.

  “Young man. Um... Nick, please bring our bill as we would rather leave our gratuity with you than some other waiter,” requested the elderly, Bernie.

  Nick had already started down the stairs but he grinned lopsidedly at them as he said, “I never charge my guests when they drop in during my lunch break. I work downtown. You see I live here... and also, my sister. This is our family house but I cannot ever recall an incident like this... Tourist mistaking our back balcony for a roadside cafe!” He disappeared behind the wall of rock and flowering foliage with a resounding chuckle.

  Chapter 2 Plying the Sea of Insanity

  Several hundred nautical miles west of the Ionian isle of Kerkyra, the Serendipity sailed a choppy Atlantic Ocean. Malak D’Almata or best known as Mac, and his crew made up of his recent bride - Merry and the young American cousins, Junior Tapia and Tino Lucero as well as the 30 year old Mexican national, Zeff Zeferano, sailed from the Mexican port of Vallarta in early July. Merry’s sister, Kate Merriweather joined the group briefly only to be left on St Helena off the coast of Namibia to recuperate after being kidnapped by pirates from the Gulf of Guinea, West Africa.

  Within hours of brother Dale’s airport setback, Merry received an almost incoherent but urgent call from her mother, Toni Merriweather. Kate had also called using the ship-to-shore radio announcing her engagement to Mac’s long time St Helena friend, Roger Cowels. So Kate, now fully recovered from her abduction ordeal was getting married and the couple would be meeting up with the Serendipity and crew on the Island of D’Almata... Mac’s homeland.

  The legendary island nation of D’Almata in the Adriatic Sea is often described as being 200 miles from anywhere. Isolated D’Almata, north of Kerkyra had been the destination of dozens of Toni Merriweather’s family and intimate friends. Toni, a widowed missionary had family mostly from the east coast of the USA but her friends lived worldwide and several had planned to attend her wedding to a D’Almatan diplomat some months before. The devastating earthquake which split the Midwestern United States like a Jack the Ripper victim was followed within hours by a three-pronged enemy assault. The national collapse had changed not only Toni’s wedding guests’ travel plans but the socio-economics of the entire world.

  Like the Titanic sinking in slow motion, America had received a fatal blow and life Americana was completely and irrevocably gone. Although the world continued to reel under the ramifications of the American catastrophe, the initial weeks were the worse. In the months following, China and Asia, Russia, Europe and the Mideast were scrambling to take advantage of the military and economic voids left by the United States’ enfeeblement.

  The sea of insanity of which the people of planet Earth found themselves afloat was awash with tsunami size problems. Those that had lived anchored to the superficial and short-sighted philosophy which declared that twentieth century western lifestyle was a permanent landmark and becoming globally more so, were caught unawares. Life had gone topsy-turvy even for those people who were not directly affected by the continent splitting earthquake or the vicious unilateral attack from America’s ill-wishers.

  Besides the New Madrid Earthquake, several nuclear accidents caused by continual and massive earthquakes convulsing throughout the world were taking a toll. Pockets of people worldwide were affected as the radiation concentrated in specific areas and global climate was destabilized. A chain reaction of climate and nuclear toxins greatly diminished the beleaguering agricultural markets which in turn caused food shortages. The result was extreme price hikes where food was available. Some visionaries saw where the famine was headed just as they foresaw the fragile international security atmosphere before the United States was assailed. Even so, the majority of the world’s populace had little idea how quickly a descending and a meager existence the regular joe was headed for.

  The older people had been through tough times but always there was a season of prosperity which followed. The common mindset: Would this downturn be any different? Surely, not! As for the younger generations who had known only virtual catastrophes, they were immune to the new reality. After all, when the game or movie ended they could get up from the couch and go raid the refrigerator before the next virtual scenario began. True, “the kids,” those peterpan under 30 types, had heard the real stories and even had a few encounters with spiritual dark forces but an indefinable insidiousness had taken hold, permeating to the core of the soul of these groups, leaving them incapable - as a group of grasping pure truth. Yet, groups are made up of individuals and so individually, because of the abundance of modern information and because of the good God in heaven restrained spiritual darkness - individually, some young souls broke away from the group.

  While Americans were grasping for answers within and for survival without, much of the rest of the world continued forward trying to stabilize day to day life at various levels. For the most part, stability was available although the future appeared uncertain. At the individual level, desperation and fear lurked behind the eyes of most. Even Bible scholars knowing the scenarios prophetically penned in scriptur
e concerning the present time - the generation preceding national Israel’s rebirth, even these people were uneasy. After all, Jesus Himself warned, “And when you hear of wars and insurrections beginning, don't panic. True, wars must come, but the end won't follow immediately...”

  In this turbulent time, Mac and his crew pressed toward his home port of Almata on the obscure main island of D’Almata in the Adriatic. For at least a millennium, Kerkyra was known as the backdoor to D’Almata. In the past much trading had gone on between the two islands but the rivalry between them was as evident as brothers competing in a race. Although both wanted to win, neither wanted the other to lose.

  After leaving his sister-in-law Kate behind on St Helena, Mac and bride, Merry got a disjointed and urgent message from Merry’s mother. Toni urged Merry to stop at Kerkyra because brother Dale was in trouble. D’Almata communications had always been erratic but with America’s confused demise, many of the global satellite systems had been interrupted. So neither Mac nor Merry could get through to Toni Merriweather to clarify her hurried ship-to-shore plea for their help. Although Kerkyra was a small island off the southern coast of Albania a bordering island of Greece, it was home to over 100,000 people and thus, they would need more information if they were to genuinely aid Dale Merriweather - Merry’s brother.

  Chapter 3 Giant Ginger Cookies

  “So, Mr Adams, I have my first installment. I’ve decided to start with your Mother’s favorite cookie recipe!” said Bean to her ex-husband.

  Mr Adams tried to disguise his astonishment at this disclosure. Didn’t she realize the world was falling apart? Their daughters’ safety was in question... the sons-in-law, the grandchildren were living through a modern-day holocaust - if they were alive at all back in America! Hadn’t she understood that the comfortable old world that they knew was imploding? Yet, Jellybean wanted to make an heirloom cookbook for their progeny. Was the woman senile? He wondered. He peered at his wife over his dark prescription sunglasses and saw that indeed she was getting on in life... Very old, he decided. Sometimes, reality can be blurred by conjuring up comfortable memories.

  Before he could voice his doubts, Bean announced, “Giant Ginger Cookies!”

  All the thoughts of Mrs Adams’ possible senility and geriatric quirks attributed to the elderly, fled as he remembered well, Mother Adams’ freshly baked giant-sized cookies.

  Pausing but momentarily to gather his thoughts, Bernie said, “Of course! It would be very proper to begin your promising book with something so delicious and historic... very American too,” said Mr Adams, forgetting his own consternation just moments before towards his wife’s casual displacement concerning the recent horrific events. Soon enough he would recall the recent disasters befalling his nation but for now only Giant Ginger Cookies were before his mental screen. Like Pavlov's dogs, Mr Adams’ mouth watered.

  “I would hope that you or perhaps, Anna’s good cousin would attempt baking a few dozen before you destined the recipe - recently untried, to your book. I think it only correct and above board. After all, years from now one of our grandchildren might attempt to reproduce my mother’s famous cookie and find you wrote in the wrong direction. Tsk, tsk and there would be no one to make the correction,” he said hoping to inspire some freshly baked cookies before too long.

  Jellybean, notebook in hand, sat next to Mr Adams on a stone wall that was built parallel to the street but several yards away from it. After leaving Nick’s back patio, Anna had steered the rental car north. It was late afternoon and she found she needed a nap before pushing into the island interior in search of her cousin’s village and home. Ten years and more had passed since she had last visited the family village of Evangelos and the island had changed much. The lunch worked like a sedative and so, Anna had pulled over to this shady cool spot off the main thoroughfare.

  Not even the ever astute Mr Adams noticed the three black motorbikes that roared north on the highway just minutes after Anna turned off the engine. The riders wore black leather and the three moved as one, dodging the slower traffic as they searched for their prey.

  Grandpa Bernie could nap almost anywhere. He had stretched out on the flat cool stones of the wall but was awaken by Jellybean’s recipe declaration. The ancient tree that kept the sun from beating down on them, moved overhead in response to a sea breeze blowing through. Gwyneth lay on a thick quilt at Jellybean’s feet. The little girl had been looking at picture books before dozing off. She slept on as Jellybean scribbled the recipe into the notebook-

  The Tasty Traveler by Geraldine Adams

  Mama’s Giant Ginger Cookies

  Makes: twenty-five 4-inch cookies

  Bake: 12 to 14 minutes per batch

  4-1/2 cups all-purpose flour

  4 teaspoons ground ginger

  2 teaspoons baking soda

  1-1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

  1 teaspoon ground cloves

  1/4 teaspoon salt

  1-1/2 cups shortening

  2 cups granulated sugar

  2 eggs

  1/2 cup molasses

  3/4 cup coarse sugar or granulated sugar

  Directions

  1. In a medium mixing bowl stir together flour, ginger, baking soda, cinnamon, cloves, and salt; set aside.

  2. In a large mixing bowl beat shortening with an electric mixer on low speed for 30 seconds to soften. Gradually add the 2 cups granulated sugar. Beat until combined, scraping sides of bowl occasionally. Beat in eggs and molasses. Beat in as much of the flour mixture as you can with the mixer. Using a wooden spoon, stir in any remaining flour mixture.

  3. Shape dough into 2-inch balls using 1/4 cup dough. Roll balls in the 3/4 cup coarse or granulated sugar. Place about 2-1/2 inches apart on an ungreased cookie sheet.

  4. Bake in a 350 degree F oven for 12 to 14 minutes or until cookies are light brown and puffed. (Do not overbake or cookies will not be chewy.) Cool on cookie sheet for 2 minutes. Transfer cookies to a wire rack to cool. Store in a tightly covered container at room temperature for up to 3 days or in the freezer for up to 3 months. Makes twenty-five (25) 4-inch cookies.

  Chapter 4 Dale in Drag

  Like hens pressing into a chicken coop, a dozen women along with several children came noisily into the restroom after a late afternoon flight landed from Paris. Some twenty minutes previous, Dale had climbed down from the ceiling tiles where he had been hiding. Hours earlier, Dale had readjusted the chalky rectangular tile securely mere seconds before the island police burst through the bathroom door ready for a fight. As Dale watched from the narrow ceiling vent and praying for a plan, the stall door was kicked opened. Their blatant disappointment made him smile and he was content to wait until the airport settled down; the authorities convinced Dale carrying the pink backpack had vacated the premises.

  In his position above the bathroom drop ceiling, Dale easily saw the several remodeling additions to the terminal. It was a haphazard affair from his viewpoint and certainly not as safe as a busy airport should be. Indirect light filled the space where he sat because of the half dozen north facing windows that had been bisected by the remodel addition of a drop ceiling. The construction was completed back in the seventies and now to Dale’s advantage, the windows allowed the sunny day to light the area.

  While hiding, Dale had a limited view of the sinks and bathroom door by peering down through the vent. He used the absence of ears below to rummage through his grandmother’s carry-on. Before long he picked out the appropriate items needed for his escape. There was a pale green cloth sack they used for the French markets, wadded into a ball inside the carry-on. He pulled this out, as well. Dale didn’t want to rouse suspicion by carrying the pink pack or even having it in his possession. He had climbed down from the ceiling joists but the offending carry-on would stay in the rafters until some electrician or aircon repairman found it, many days hence. Using the green shopping bag, he reorganized Bean’s things, placing them inside, leaving out the clothing he would need and a pair of
her generic reading glasses.

  When the clucking group of women entered the restroom, Dale finalized his “look” by tying a black silk scarf about his neck hiding his tell-tale Adams-apple and pulling down the spectacles from the top of his head where another scarf hid his short busy locks except a few curling girlishly about his ears. He exited the stall and immediately saw his mirrored reflection in front of him revealing the three day beard. Pivoting, Dale returned to the stall and flushed the toilet as a noisy cover-up before bolting the lock once again.

  Adjusting the silk scarf to conceal his lower face, Dale touched the clip-on earrings reassuringly. The bright jewelry pinched his ears but matched his skirt and he hoped, diverted attention from his masculine form. There was nothing he could do about the black Doc Martens, size 11 but this was Greece he rationalized and many Greek women wore thick black shoes.

  The females were finished and it was time for him to leave mingling with them as a diversion. He opened the stall door again and glanced at his image before turning towards the exit. The mirror revealed his ridiculous appearance but he had prayed and this was the scheme downloaded. Dale knew God had given him the plan and his confidence in succeeding beyond the airport guards was complete.

  Dale had not bargained for the mental time warp he moved through as he left the women’s bathroom and headed across the terminal. When he was fifteen, Dale had been in a drama ministry and the present reality of dressing as a forty-something Greek female reminded Dale of being onstage. There was nothing for it but to get through the scene and off the stage without tripping or forgetting one’s lines. Still, there was no accounting for the other actors messing up which would leave Dale to improvise.

  Sometimes impromptu acting worked and sometimes it didn’t. This thought caused his palms to sweat. No matter; the show would go on and even now, as he seemed to creep in slow motion toward the street, Dale needed to follow-through.