“Don’t worry Nance, I’ll take care of him and get him home. We’ll be there tomorrow. I love you too.”
Frank looked down and saw his best friend weeping. He knelt down, picked his friend up, and like a mother carrying a newborn, he gently carried him to his room and laid him down in bed. Frank sat the rest of the night in a chair by Mike’s side, refusing to let him grieve alone.
The next morning, Frank woke Mike and they went to the airport. Frank never left his side until he dropped Mike off at Nancy’s house. Frank told Nancy, “He hasn’t said much since yesterday. I’m gonna get going. Call me if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Frankie. You’re such a special man, and a good friend to Mike. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You don’t ever have to thank me. I love you guys. Just let me know if you guys need anything.”
“I will, Frankie. Be careful driving home.”
Nancy spent the next two days comforting and consoling Mike. Mike eventually came around and started to help Nancy with the funeral plans and preparing for the incoming guests.
Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. Mike was with Nancy by the graveside. Family and friends stood by and comforted them as best they knew how. Mike was silent and inexpressive as he stared at his father’s casket. It had been a nice enough service, as funerals go. Father O’Brien presided over the service and was very reassuring to Nancy that Big Mike was in a better place now. Mike had a hard time believing that.
What was so wrong with the place he was at now? Mike angrily thought to himself.
Frank remained by his best friend’s side throughout the holiday, but eventually Frank had to return to school and Mike would help him with his studies over the phone. Mike watched the last televised Panthers game in the family room on the big screen TV where he and Big Mike had watched the games.
Mike did not return to FTU that semester. He decided to help his mother through the holidays. Mike determined that he would not rely on his mother for money. Big Mike was the provider and always took care of her, but she did not have enough money to take care of him while he was in college and keep the same lifestyle to which she had grown accustomed. Mike decided that he would find a job and continue his studies part time.
After Christmas, Mike returned to Jacksonville. He enrolled in one class and started the arduous task of finding a job. He had been cleared medically from his head injuries, and was willing to do anything.
Jobs were tough to come by, and he worked a series of odd jobs from night clerk in a gas station, to a waiter. He made just enough money to move back into the apartments where he and Frank had stayed when they first came to Jacksonville.
This place held many happy memories for Mike, and the scenery wasn’t bad. Frank would spend more time there than at the frat house, and howl from the balcony at the girls. Frank was quite the celebrity and would always liven things up for Mike.
June arrived, and Frank graduated with a business degree. The bigger news was that Frank had been drafted into the pros and was on his way to becoming a superstar. He received a considerable contract, being one of the highest paid centers in the history of the game. But why wouldn’t he? He was by far the best the game had ever seen.
Mike said to Frank, “So much for the Dynamic Duo, eh?”
Frank looked at Mike and said, “Are you shittin’ me man? I owe everything I am to you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I never told you, but you were my inspiration all throughout high school and I never would have made it through college without your help. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I love you like a brother. We will always be the Dynamic Duo. You’re gonna be a great lawyer, and who knows—without you to keep me in line, I’ll probably require your services one day.”
Grinning, Mike said, “You probably will Moose, you probably will.”
Moose insisted, “Promise me Mikey, if you ever need anything, you’ll call me first. You don’t ever have any needs that I can’t take care of, deal?”
“Deal.”
“I wish you’d let me pay for your schooling.”
“Moose, I love you pal, but I have to find my own way. I’ll make it. Just knowing that you have my back is enough to keep me going.”
“I will always be here for you, bro!”
The two hugged and Mike said, “You’re all I got left. You better take care of yourself.”
Frank said, “You’re my boy, Mikey.”
Mike and Frank remained best friends, and Mike watched Frank’s career blossom. Mike never missed a game, and could always be heard cheering for Frank like Big Mike had for whatever team Frank played for. Several times every season, Frank would fly Mike out to watch from the sidelines. Mike never had to pay for anything.
Now that Mike was struggling alone, working and trying to continue his education part time became more difficult. Mike could make the money to survive, but he was going deeper into debt. One day, there was a police recruiter on campus, explaining to students about a career in law enforcement. Mike listened intently, and discovered that most police agencies will help pay for continuing education.
Mike asked, “Excuse me, sir, does it pay well?” The recruiter told Mike what the average law enforcement officer earned, and it was two to three times what he was earning, on average.
Mike called Frank and asked him what he thought about him becoming a cop.
Frank said, “Bro, a cop? Holy shit, I’ll have to be on my best behavior all the time now or you’ll arrest me!”
Mike laughed and explained that it would be a means to an end; he would be able to finish his degree on someone else’s dime.
“Sounds good man, I can totally see you in uniform. But remember, I won’t be there to keep you safe. You better watch yourself. Are you sure I can’t help you out? Money’s not an issue between us, Mikey.”
Mike snickered, “I appreciate it pal, but I think I can handle it. Besides, maybe I can get the satisfaction of putting some dirt bag away, like that piece of shit who whacked my dad!”
“Just be safe, my man.”
“I will Frankie, thanks.”
Even though no one seemed to be hiring, Mike still sent applications to agencies all across the state. In a few months, he read about a sheriff’s department in Southwest Florida that was looking for deputies. Mike had never heard of Dolphin County, but decided to apply anyway. The city of Boca Grande Shores was the county seat. The testing would take place in January 1994.
The day came for the testing, and Mike arrived early. Of course, he was in peak physical condition and passed all the physical requirements with ease. His drug screen was clean, and even though he had a tough time talking about what happened to his father during the psychological exam, he managed to pass satisfactorily.
Mike spent some time exploring this town where he had never been. Boca Grande Shores seemed like a pleasant enough community. There were a lot of retirees in this part of Florida. He researched and discovered that the crime rate was reasonably low, which sounded good to him. He ultimately wanted to be a lawyer in a law firm, and working a low crime area didn’t sound so bad to him.
Mike returned to Jacksonville while he waited for his background check to be completed. He continued taking his class and working part time. One evening he received a phone call.
“Yes . . . uh . . . good evening, Mr. Carson? This is Corporal Huffman with the Dolphin County Sheriff’s Office. How are you today, sir?”
“Very good, thank you. How may I help you?”
“Say, you wouldn’t be the same Michael Carson that played for
FTU two years ago, would you?”
Mike favorably responded, “Yes, sir, that’s me.”
“Wow, you were great. I’m an alumnus of FTU. I graduated in 1985. I was at that game when you got hurt. What a tough break. I still go to as many games as I can. You were the best quarterback
they had in years. I’m really sorry that you got hurt.”
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“Well, thank you, but that seems like a long time ago.”
“The reason for my call is that I’m finishing up your background and I need to clear a few things up. Everything looks great so far, but there is the issue of your injury. Would you be willing to get cleared by our doctors?”
“If it would help me get the job, absolutely. I’ve been given full clearance and have all the documentation, if it will help.”
“That shouldn’t be necessary, sir. As long as you get cleared by our physician, I see no problem with forwarding your application.
How does next Tuesday work for you?”
“I’ll be there, and thank you sir.”
“No problem. We’ll see you Tuesday.”
Mike arrived in town the following Monday and checked into the Sand Dollar Motel, where he prepared to get a good night’s rest. His appointment was at 9 a.m. the next morning with the department physician, Doctor Jansen.
3:00 a.m. Mike was startled to hear his phone ringing, and muttered, “Who the hell would be calling me at this hour? No one even knows I’m here.”
Mike answered the phone, “Hello?”
All Mike heard was static. He said again, “Hello?”
Again, no answer. Mike hung up and called the front desk.
A man answered with a Hindi accent. “Front desk. This is Nandi. How may I help you?”
“Um, yes, I just got a phone call, and when I answered there was no one there.”
“I do apologize, sir, let me see . . . I’m sorry, sir, I show no record of any calls to your room.”
Mike, slightly agitated, said, “Look man, I have an appointment first thing in the morning and I really need a good night’s sleep!”
“Please sir, do not take this tone with me. I’m telling you there is no record of any calls to your room.”
“You’re right Nandi, I apologize, but please . . . I really need to get some sleep. Is there anything you can do to make sure I don’t get any more calls?”
“Of course, sir. I will be sure to put a block on your line.”
“Thank you. Can you tell me if I’m still set for a 7:15 wakeup call?”
“No problem sir. It is taken care of.”
3:45 a.m. The phone rang again. Perturbed, Mike answered. “HELLO!”
At first, the line was silent, but then Mike heard an unusual sound. He listened carefully and wondered, is that the sound of cattle? The sound was muted by static on the line, but he definitely heard the sound of cattle, like an entire herd. He immediately hung up and sat on the edge of his bed.
A cold chill flowed through his veins. He had an uneasy feeling. He assumed that someone must be playing a joke on him. Not feeling jovial, Mike once again called the front desk.
“Front desk. This is Nandi. How may I help you?” answered the same Hindi-accented man.
“Look, Nandi, what the hell kind of game are you playing? I explained to you that I needed to get some rest, and this shit keeps happening. I’m not amused, God damn it!”
The voice on the other end deepened and an unhallowed voice growled, “Sir . . . I . . . told . . . you . . . there . . . is . . . no . . . record . . .of . . . any . . . call!”
Overcome by a menacing sense, Mike hung up.
“What the fuck was that?”
It was now 4:00 a.m., and Mike was exhausted. He thought about an old black and white TV series he watched as a kid, and pictured himself in one of the episodes.
The phone rang again.
“This can’t be happening!”
His anger conquered his trepidation, and Mike stormed out of the motel room with the phone still ringing. He marched to the front office and pounded on the door of the darkened room. A light came on from a back room, and Mike could see the silhouetted figure of the man who had checked him in earlier. As he drew closer, Mike could see that he was wearing a black bathrobe and brown slippers. He had dark olive skin and a large, bushy black mustache. His jet-black hair was disheveled. He had clearly just gotten out of bed.
The man shuffled to the door, opened it, and with a similar Hindi accent and a simultaneous yawn the man asked, “Yes, mister?
May I help you?”
Mike barked “NANDI!?”
The man looked perplexed and asked him, “Why would you call me that, sir?”
“Nandi. That’s your name, right?”
“Sir, my name is Akbar. We have no one named Nandi here. Where did you hear that name?”
Mike enlightened Akbar about all that had transpired in his room, which included several phone calls with the strange sounds of cattle and a menacing voice on the other end identifying himself as Nandi.
Akbar took the time to explain to Mike that Nandi is the name of a divine, ancient Hindu bull and is not commonly worshipped in his culture anymore.
Not wanting to argue with the irate customer, Akbar said, “I apologize for your inconvenience, sir. This sort of thing has never happened before. Please let me get you another room, no charge.”
4:30 a.m. Mike lay down. He had asked Akbar for a 7:45 wakeup, hoping to still get a little rest. Still uneasy about all that he had experienced, he lay awake in bed most of the remaining night, only managing about an hour’s sleep. Mike thought, Divine bull? Cattle sounds? Nandi? Man, this is fucked up! I’ll be glad to get the hell out of here.
7:45 a.m. The phone rang, and Mike bounded out of bed to get ready for the visit with the doctor.
As Mike was leaving the motel, he glanced back at the first room where he had experienced the unusual occurrences and thought he saw a dark-silhouetted figure standing in the window. It appeared to have the head of a bull and the body of a man. After a quick double take, he exclaimed, “What the . . .?” Suddenly, the figure was gone and the curtains hung motionless. “I must be losing my mind.”
Mike dismissed all of the events as Akbar playing games with him, and continued on to his appointment.
A NEW BEGINNING
J ULY 1994. Mike was getting ready to start the law enforcement academy. He had been hired by the Dolphin County Sheriff’s Office and was excited at the prospect of actually getting paid to be in school.
For the next sixteen weeks, Mike would learn self-defense tactics, emergency driving, firearms, report writing, constitutional law and of course legal procedures. Physical fitness came easily to him, and he would often catch himself starting to laugh when other people struggled, but then he would flash back to the summer when Nancy encouraged him. Being a team player was in his nature, and instead of laughing, he would cheer on his classmates and encourage them to push a little harder.
Leadership and taking control came naturally to Mike, as was evident from his success on the football field. He was popular with the other recruits and they elected him as their class leader. He was in charge of forming the lines and marching the class to the flag pole every morning before class started, where they would recite the pledge of allegiance and take a moment of silence for the fallen officers who came before them. He exhibited a keen understanding of the legal material, and would spend hours helping others who struggled with the material.
The only area in which Mike did not excel and finish number one was marksmanship. Before the academy, he had never fired a gun in his life, unlike many of the other students who had grown up hunting with their fathers. Mike’s only real connection to his parents didn’t come until his summer transformation, when sports and fitness became their connection. Big Mike never owned a gun, and Mike would often say to himself, “If only you had a gun that day Dad, maybe you’d still be here with me.” He read all the books and understood all the mechanics involved with shooting, but hitting the target proved to be more difficult than he had imagined. As he had helped so many of his fellow recruits, they, too, encouraged him at the gun range.
One fellow recruit, Saul Weismann, was a particular help to Mike. He and Saul became good friends, and Mike would often joke around with Saul that he was the one who should become a lawyer. “You got the pe
rfect name for it!” Saul, in fact, was not Jewish himself, but his grandfather was Jewish and had immigrated to the United States after escaping Germany with his family during World War Two. Saul had been a competitive shooter since he was thirteen years old, when his father, who had been an Olympic competitive shooter, introduced him to the sport. On weekends, Mike and Saul would go to the range on their own time and Saul would work with Mike. By the end of the academy, with Saul’s assistance, Mike had become one of the top ten shooters. Of course, Saul rightly finished number one.
To Mike’s surprise, a career in law enforcement started out as a means to an end, but became something for which he developed a real passion. He grew eager as the time to graduate came closer. Soon he would be out on the streets, protecting and serving the public. By the time he completed the academy, Mike had finished number one in his class, a place he had grown accustomed to in all of his sports endeavors.
Lieutenant Albertson, Commandant of the law enforcement academy, had been with the Sheriff’s Office for eighteen years, and had recently been put in charge of training new recruits. He called Mike into his office one day. “Congratulations Carson, you’ve surpassed everyone else in the course work and you will be receiving the top recruit honor at the graduation ceremony. Would you be willing to give a short—and I do mean short—speech after I present you the award?”
Mike replied, “I think I can come up with something, Sir.”
“Very good. Just get me a draft by Friday so I can review it.”
“Will do, sir.”
Mike couldn’t wait to tell his mom, who would be flying down to witness the graduation ceremony. To Mike, it seemed that it had been a long time since Nancy had anything to be proud of him for.
Since his father was murdered that tragic day before Thanksgiving, Nancy had become more distant. He hoped that this weekend might be a time for them to reconnect.
Mike also called Frank to let him know. “Hey Moose, can you be there at the graduation? It would mean a lot to me.”
“When is it again, pal?”
“November 4th. It’s a Friday.”
Epistle of the Damned Page 10
