by Mark Tufo
“Sir?” the deputy asked with concern. “Are you alright?” He didn’t know whether to pull his sidearm or radio for a medic—both seemed like valid responses. Darvin was making his way back to the register before Deputy Baker waved him away. Darvin didn’t need to be told twice as he retreated back to Becky’s station.
Mike looked up and staggered. His contact which he had been long neglecting had shifted slightly throwing his world askew. Light and dark flooded into the far reaches of his mind, he gripped the counter to keep from succumbing to the vertigo. He fell backward as his blood soaked hands could not seek purchase. He was looking up at the very large barrel of a Colt .45 when the spinning subsided.
“Stay down, sir. An ambulance is on the way.”
“I need to get back to her,” Mike croaked.
“Is she hurt?” the deputy asked, trying to pull information from the man on the ground.
Mike looked at the deputy strangely. “She’s dead,” he answered.
“Sir, you have the right to remain silent, anything you…”
Mike passed out, he awoke a few hours later in a hospital bed. His clothes gone, replaced by a less-than-modest hospital gown, his cuts and scrapes covered in a thick goo that could only be Bacitracin and a soap opera was playing on the television across the room.
The deputy, upon seeing Mike come awake, immediately turned the television off. “I was looking for some sports,” the deputy said guiltily.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Mike promised. “What’s going on?”
“You tell us. You look like you were on the losing end of a fight with a floral shop owner. The sheriff went out to your house, he said the front door was wide open and your fridge looks like you went to town on it with a sledgehammer”
“Damn thing’s been acting up,” Mike said, his voice raw.
“We ran your plates. We know who you are.”
“Deputy, you say that like I’m a known fugitive on the FBI’s most wanted list.”
“Are you doing research for another novel?” the deputy asked in all seriousness.
“I’d really be taking my craft to another level if that were the case. No, I hate to disappoint you, but I’m just doing some much needed yard work. There’s a cat in my Jeep, deputy, she’s more of a pain in the ass than any company, but is she okay?”
“Didn’t see a cat in your car and I looked pretty good. Thought maybe you had a weapon in there before we knew who you were.”
“Are you sure she didn’t get by you?”
“Mr. Talbot, I can assure you there was no cat in that car when I opened the door. More than likely she crawled out your window.”
“How’s she going to find her way home? It’s got to be twenty miles to my house.”
“You don’t concern yourself with that right now. I’ll keep an eye out for her. She’ll get hungry soon enough…”
“Is there something else?” Mike asked.
The deputy was wringing the back of his neck with a heavily callused hand. “Mr. Talbot, was there ever a cat?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, besides the mangled fridge, the sheriff said you had a small mountain of cat food on the kitchen floor and the litter box upstairs is clean as the day you bought it, which according to your receipts was three days ago. Seems to me that a cat eating as much as the one you’re saying you have would be taking care of business a lot if you get my meaning.”
“I think I’d know if I had a damn cat or not, most times she won’t even let me touch her. She’s about as fickle a woman as I’d ever met, but she’s as real as me and you!” Mike said heatedly.
“I’m sorry to get you riled. I’ll keep an eye out for her,” the deputy said as he dipped his head slightly and put his hat back on. “You have a good day, sir, I hope you’re feeling better.”
“Am I under any type of house arrest?” Mike asked before the deputy left.
“No, but the sheriff would like to talk to you at some point.”
“Where’s my Jeep now?”
“In the parking lot, we had it towed here.”
Mike got up and almost beat the deputy out of the room.
“You’re going out like that?”
“These are in better shape than the ones I came in with, I consider it an improvement.”
“Fair enough, but you might want to get a better grip on the back side or I’m going to have to haul you in for indecent exposure.”
Mike had a brief stop at the nurse’s station, grabbed some discharge papers which he promised to fill out and bring back in at some point.
He walked across the small parking lot, one bandaged hand wrapped tightly with the draw strings on his gown and the other holding his boots. Patches had her paws against the window and was watching his approach. Mike thought she looked almost happy to see him. That’s when he figured that must not really be his cat.
“I knew that deputy was full of shit. Miss me?” Mike asked as he hopped in.
Patches licked a paw and did her best to pretend he wasn’t there.
“Gotta love small towns,” Mike said, looking in the backseat where all his hardware purchases rested. A receipt needing his signature was taped to one of the bags. “They could have just cancelled the whole order, but I’m glad they didn’t.”
Mike pulled into his long drive, happy to realize the sheriff wasn’t waiting for him and more importantly that his fridge wasn’t back on the porch. He was actually hungry and the frozen dinners might taste like cardboard, but he still needed the fuel for what he desired to do.
“Wow, the sheriff was right,” Mike said, running his hand along one of the many dents on the face of the fridge. “I don’t know about a sledgehammer, though, looks more like a fist did this, a hammer would be deeper.” He fit his hand perfectly into the crevice.”
Mike ate his meal hurriedly, strapped his boots on, and headed to grab some of his new expenditures out of the Jeep. He cut a small path through the growth to the clearing with his machete, even so, he was still rewarded with a few new wounds. The thorns seemed to grow almost as rapidly as he cut them, like tossing water out of the ocean. The sight of the green floored clearing both quickened his heart and calmed his soul.
“I can feel you here, Jandilyn,” he said, reaching down and rubbing his palm against the moss.
Mike went back to the car and grabbed his brand new prize possession, the chainsaw ripped through the cedar, pine and oak trees like a steak knife through tenderized veal. The clearing was some twelve feet in diameter when he felt that was the appropriate size, for what, he didn’t quite know yet. Just that it was.
Patches circled around the entire area, never stepping onto the moss and mewling loudly in protest of the work Mike was doing. He was cutting the trees up into manageable two foot lengths and hauling them out into his backyard. It was the fortieth or fiftieth trip when he emerged from the brush. The sheriff was leaning up against the side of his car, drinking what appeared to be an iced tea.
Mike placed the log on the growing pile.
“The door was open. I hope you don’t mind?” the sheriff asked, holding the glass up.
“I had iced tea?”
“It’s iced coffee. I don’t like cream…was going to make a sandwich but you don’t really have much of anything.”
“Well, if I’d known you were coming I would have stocked up.”
“Can I ask you what you’re doing?”
“Gardening.”
“That’s some heavy duty gardening—you always work in a hospital gown?”
“It’s all the rage in Paris,” Mike answered. “I’d thought about just going buck naked, but if I ended up with a tick on my crotch, well you can understand the embarrassment.”
“I don’t really like you,” the sheriff said, taking a long sip of coffee as he waited for a response from Mike.
Mike got the feeling if he answered wrong, the sheriff might shoot him a couple of times for good measure and deposit him in his
new project.
“I wish I could say I care,” Mike told him.
“Jandilyn’s not in there,” the sheriff said, pointing back to the path.
“Excuse me?” Mike said, his heart firing on cylinders he wasn’t even aware he had.
“Coffee could use a little more sugar.”
“Who sent you?” Mike said, backing up, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the bullet he felt had his name on it.
“You take care,” the sheriff said as he tipped his hat. He dropped the glass onto the ground where it shattered. “Don’t cut yourself on that.” He got into his car and drove off.
Patches came over and sniffed at the liquid which was rapidly soaking into the soil and then headed into the house.
“I could have used a little back-up!” Mike yelled to her retreating form.
He was shaken up from his encounter with the law and wasn’t quite certain he had heard the man correctly. How could he possibly know? Mike himself didn’t really know what he was doing, it was more of an awareness of something that needed to be done.
By the time the sun set, Mike had convinced himself that the buzz of the chainsaw and the lack of hearing protection had made him miss some crucial part of the conversation with the sheriff and that was probably why the man had become so hostile so quickly. But no matter how much he tried to rationalize the whole thing away ‘Jandilyn’s not in there’ kept ringing out clear as a bell on a Sunday morning.
“You ready for bed, cat? It’s got to be at least eight thirty.” Mike skipped past a shower, dirt clung greedily to the pockets of salve the hospital had applied liberally to his body. Blood, puss and blisters oozed onto his sheets. It looked like a crime scene in the making.
Mike was dead asleep when he felt something wasn’t quite right. He was on his side and should have been facing the cat, but with the small sliver of moonlight illuminating his room he knew she wasn’t on the bed with him, at least not in her usual spot. A heaviness had descended upon his chest and breathing was becoming difficult. He rolled onto his back to see if that would alleviate the pressure. It was then he took notice of the dark figure at the foot of his bed. Mike scrambled toward the headboard, attempting to put as much distance as possible between him and the dark outline of a man that seemed to repel any light that dared approach.
“Am I imagining you?” Mike asked, hoping that insanity had finally claimed him, because that was a far better option than what he was presented with now.
“Hello, Michael,” issued from an even blacker fissure in the being’s face. “It seems like only hours ago we met.”
“I think I would have remembered that,” Mike said, his bladder urging for release. It was concentrating on holding onto that small piece of dignity that kept him from being swept over the edge into the abyss of madness.
“Oh, I think you do. Paul and Dennis most certainly did.”
“What are you?”
“I am the completion of the circle.”
“Why is everyone so vague?”
“You died over five years ago, Michael.”
“Is that why I haven’t been able to get quality healthcare?” Mike knew it was over for him. The sheriff would come back tomorrow to find a drooling Mike, his head hanging over the lip of the bathtub as he watched mold grow.
“Someone has interfered with the natural order of things, Michael. I have my ideas of who it may be, and eventually she will have to pay for her transgression, but in the mean time we have some unfinished business.”
“Will I be with Jandilyn?” Mike dared to ask. If that were the case, he would go willingly.
“It is not for me to decide the fate of the souls I collect.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“This is not something you have a choice in. We will talk further.” With that the apparition was gone.
The pressure eased off Mike, Patches jumped onto the bed, startling him all over again. “You really suck for support,” Mike said to the cat. Patches was still on edge with the residual presence, the light took its time filling in the void left by the departure of the being.
“That couldn’t have been real, could it? I was sleeping or the meatloaf-like frozen dinner is messing my gut up and I’m having one hell of a vivid dream.” Dream or not, Mike found his bladder needed urgent attention and he left a one hundred watt illuminated trail to find the bathroom.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN – The Past Returns
As the sun came up, it was much easier to dismiss the notion that anything amiss had happened the previous night. That did little to ease how he felt when he entered his clearing today. The moss had already traveled halfway up the newly hewn tree trunks and now he couldn’t truly remember if they had been there at all. He ran his hands along the moss, it was moist and cool and felt exactly like the rest of the space he was in.
His thoughts were abruptly changed as he heard the distinctive sound of tires on gravel. “The sheriff back for round two?” Mike asked. “Aw shit, I have got to expand my wardrobe.” He looked down at the front of his blue hospital nightie. “It really is difficult to strike an imposing figure in this thing.”
Mike made sure to grab his axe. If things got out of hand he wanted to make sure he would at least be able to have an opportunity to defend himself, but unless the sheriff would be so kind as to shoot him from less than five feet away it was going to be difficult. He was wholly unprepared for what he witnessed.
“Hello, Mike.”
Mike racked his memory for that night so many years ago on the Hill. “Durgan?”
“Wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”
“You tend to make an impression,” Mike said, circling behind the wood pile.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“You’ll forgive me my doubts,” Mike said as Durgan stood, he wasn’t nearly as large as the memory of him Mike had made. He looks smaller, diminished perhaps, Mike thought.
“I understand.”
“Are you real?” Mike asked, pointing the axe his way.
“What?”
“Things are tending to get a little blurry lately. I think it might have something to do with my head injury, but then how would I know? My brain is going to tell me whatever it wants.”
“I’m sorry about Jandilyn.”
Mike almost doubled over from the mere mention of her name.
“I called Mrs. Hollow. I was trying to track you two down. I’ve had a life altering event and I’m going back to all of those who I’ve been ‘difficult’ to,” he said with a pained expression.
“Is that how you classify it? Difficult? Does that let you sleep at night?”
“I’m dying, Mike. I have stage-two lymph node cancer. I’ve got two months at the most.”
“Why are you here, Durgan? It seems like you should be spending this time with your friends and family?”
“Mike, there were very few people in life who I treated with anything less than contempt. I have no one.”
“What were you expecting here? Pity?”
Mike thought Durgan was on the verge of tears.
“I came to make all the wrongs in my life right.”
“How’s that going for you?”
“About as well as this conversation. Seems the adage forgive and forget has been forgotten.”
“Fine, I accept your apology. You can go now.”
“I come with another message, Mike.”
“Don’t!” Mike said with force.
“She says you should leave here, no good can come from this.”
“Don’t you dare!” Mike screamed, coming out from his makeshift blockade, axe held high.
Durgan stood his ground; a quick axe to the head seemed like a blissful ending compared to the withering, lingering death by internal decay.
“Who the fuck are you to come onto my property and tell me anything?” Mike screamed, he had raised the axe and threatened to bring its full weight to bear on Durgan.
“I’m a lot close
r to the other side now, Mike. I see things.”
“Yeah, welcome to my fucking world. Great place, isn’t it?” Mike asked sarcastically.
Durgan was left to look at Mike with a confused glaze. “I saw her in a dream, Mike, but it wasn’t a dream. She wanted me to tell you she loved you.” Mike dropped the axe. “And that they’re waiting for you on the other side.” This time Mike dropped next to his axe, his face buried in his hands. “She says you’re doing things here that are better left undone.”
“I don’t believe you,” Mike said without much conviction.
“You’re right, Mike, I came cross country to deliver one final cruel prank.”
Mike searched Durgan’s face, hoping maybe that was the truth.
“Come on,” Durgan said, extending a hand, “I’m pretty thirsty and I could use a seat.”
“Don’t you have someplace you should be?” Mike asked.
“Not much into entertaining?” Durgan asked.
“I’m pretty selective on my company and the few I’ve had lately have been anything but model citizens.”
“One drink and a small rest and I’ll leave, I promise,” Durgan said as Mike grabbed his proffered hand. There was still power behind the grip, but Mike was fairly certain at this point they might be an even match if it came down to it.
“Fine, but I don’t have much. The fridge has been acting up.”
“Water will be fine,” Durgan said as he began to approach the house.
Mike thought about racing ahead and grabbing a chair to put on the porch but thought better of it.
“Mrs. Hollow is no fan of yours.” Durgan laughed as he took another giant swig of his glass of water.
“You want another glass?” Mike said from the sink as Durgan sat at the table across the room.
“She said the first time she laid eyes on you, she wanted to stick a knitting needle in your eye.” Durgan laughed. “Who says that shit?”
“If I hadn’t loved Jandilyn as much as I did, I would have left her because of her mother.”
Durgan harrumphed. He eyed his empty glass. “Got anything stronger?”
