Hailey's Hog

by Andrew Draper

  Passing Granite Street and the Sharlot Hall Museum, Hailey grimly recalled her mother’s cautionary counsel to accept what happened and move on with her life.

  Maybe Mother was right. If I’d left it alone, I wouldn’t be in this mess.

  Her acidic reflections moved forward with alacrity, barreling ahead without any conscious attempt at restraint.

  But would I really be any better off? The notion plagued her as she piloted the Hog further away from the square. I was pretty much a prisoner anyway. I was too scared to live…and too scared to die.

  She looked back at her life over the past year and cringed. Failing school, losing David, being trapped in my apartment…I might as well have been dead.

  She thought about her uncle’s heroic courage in the face of his impending death. He really was a cowboy at heart. He lived just like his favorite actor… John Wayne.

  She thought briefly of John Wayne, considering both the man and the legend. He was all about courage and class, just like Greg. She also remembered hearing her uncle talk about Wayne’s heroic battles with lung and stomach cancer, defeating the disease once before finally succumbing in 1979.

  At least this way I can say I didn’t give up. She again thought about that horrifying night she tried to take her own life. And I won’t give in.

  She considered her opposing feelings for several seconds while navigating along Summit Street, heading north. If I’d done what Mother said, I might not be in this kind of trouble, she admitted. But I’d be hiding in my closet for the rest of my life… different jailer… same bars.

  Her turbulent mind turned to the impending anniversary of the attack, leaving her emotions torn between a stark vulnerability at being swept up in recent events and an intoxicating sensation of power at being the catalyst.

  They raped me…and almost killed me. She gritted her teeth as her wrist flashed a signal of pain at all the driving she’d done. If I’m a monster, she thought in resignation then they made me that way.

  The internal debate continued as she ping-ponged between hope for the future and the specters of the past. She wanted so much to unburden herself of the toxic memories, to cleanse her mind of everything from her rape to the revenge she took on the horrible men who committed it. She desperately wanted to tell someone about what was happening inside her. She was growing, changing and she wanted to share, for the first time, what she was thinking…and feeling.

  Again Doug’s face appeared. She considered her feelings about this handsome new man who brought such an unexpected spark to her withering life. How do I deal with him?

  Tell him the truth. Her reasoning side silently cried.

  I can’t tell him. Oh, God no. He’d flip out. But I can’t keep lying either, not to him…and not to myself.

  The fear of disappointment reared its ugly head, clogging her thinking with unwanted melancholy. Why did I have to find him now? Why couldn’t it have been months ago.

  The answer materialized among her chaotic thoughts, but not in the typical explosion or epiphany. The new reality quietly washed over her in a calm arrival of subtle, cohesive understanding. I’m different now.

  The truth solidified her murky feelings. Months ago, I would have peed my pants if he so much as looked at me. She thought, the truth bringing a grim wave of self-disappointment. Hell, I was afraid of my own shadow, never mind someone like him. Not any more, I won’t hide…I won’t be afraid any more.

  Rounding the last curve before reaching her street, she thought about what to do next. I have to see this through. One way or another, it has to end.

  She knew the T.A.O.’s would be participating in the run the following night, and the inescapable truth fell on her like a lead weight. I’ve got to take the fourth one down.

  Pulse spiking, she envisioned a life behind bars. The never-ending drudgery, the total loss of one’s most basic freedoms, all these demons and more flew into her mind as biting trepidation returned to grate on her last nerve. My life is really over, isn’t it? What am I going to do? Oh, Uncle Greg, I wish you were here.

  She looked in her mind’s eye and saw Greg’s face appear. She heard his words again. Sometimes the only way out is forward, even if it is through a shit storm. She took some small degree of comfort in his dour revelation.

  Coming down the last block before her building, she noticed something out of place, the routine approach not quite feeling right. I’ve driven this road hundreds of times, what’s different this time?

  While she couldn’t immediately put her finger on it, the reality came quickly enough. Hailey’s heart skipped a beat as she scanned the road ahead. What is that? She wondered, seeing the multi-colored dome peeking out above the dense, green foliage. She slowed and took a second look, the image coalescing, firing off a loud warning shot, a harbinger of imminent danger.

  Sitting behind some unkempt bushes, the looming white specter of a Yavapai County Sheriff’s SUV sat, silently waiting for its prey. Oh, my God! They found me! Her heart leapt to breakneck speed, hammering against her chest in panic.

  She swerved dangerously before breaking to a quick stop and hiding behind a parked car. Engine still throbbing, her frightened mind raced ahead. Run! Get the hell out of here, before he sees you! Praying for some kind of miracle as her terror mounted, she turned the heavy machine around, accelerating away from the unsuspecting deputy behind the wheel in a cloud of dust.

  Retracing her trip, she sped back to Courthouse Square, constantly checking the mirrors for any sign of a pursuing deputy. Noting she was not being followed, she turned right onto Granite Street, then made a quick left into the concrete and steel edifice of the parking garage half way down the block. Fright pushing her forward, she wound her way upward. She found a sliver of a space on the third floor and left the Hog, engine ticking as it sat cooling in the darkness.

  She dashed across the street to the lights of the coffee house, a bevy of chatting customers walking out the door as she approached. Sitting at a bistro table outside, she noticed the patio area was empty. She was alone, the rest of the meticulously manicured courtyard vacant. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed with an uncontrollably trembling hand. She held the instrument to her ear and silently prayed that he would answer.

  Doug’s voice filled the airwaves on the second ring. “Hi, I was just thinking about you,” he said, pausing momentarily. “But I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. What’s up?”

  His question sent another spike of fear ricocheting through her body. “I can’t tell you over the phone. Can you meet me?” she asked, her voice fearful and forced.

  “Sure. Where and when?”

  “As soon as possible. I’m at the Wild Iris coffee house.”

  “I know where that place is. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you. And, please don’t tell anyone where you’re going,” she said. “I’d like to keep this between us.”

  “Whatever you say. I’ll be right there.” She hung up and her breathing began to return to normal.

  Adrenaline still burning in her blood, she stepped inside the shop and ordered a frozen drink. Sitting at a table across from the counter, she contemplated what she would say when Doug arrived and the tears welled up in her eyes with the knowledge that the budding relationship was probably now over. She decided to wait outside and trudged toward the door, her head low, her spirits crushed.

  She watched him approach, the customary bounce in his step evident as he came through the gate into the courtyard a few minutes later. Helmet tucked under his arm, he sat down, dropping into the chair across from her.

  “Hey,” he said, blue eyes shining. “What’s with all the cloak and dagger stuff?”

  She leaned forward, closing the gap between them. “I need your help.”

  His response came instantaneously, voice holding no reservations what so ever. “Sure. What is it?”

  She steeled herself, the heavy sigh carrying across the table. “When you hear, you ma
y not be so anxious to get involved.”

  He leaned back in the chair, his manner all confidence and strength. “I’m a big boy. I think I can take it.”

  She too leaned back, crossing one jean-encased leg over the other. “I don’t even know where to start.” She took a small sip of her drink.

  “Start from the beginning.” He said, his gaze settling on her face, clear lines of worry etched there.

  “There are things about me you don’t know,” she said, the uneven timbre of her voice belying an inner turmoil. “Terrible things.”

  He took her hand and threw an easy, sideways grin. “Come on, how terrible can it be?”

  “Pretty bad,” she said, shaking her head in self-pity. “Enough to change your mind about me.”

  “I doubt that,” he replied firmly. “I think you underestimate yourself, and I consider myself a pretty good judge of character.”

  She hesitated, held captive by a growing dread of his reaction to her planned revelations.

  “You don’t owe me any explanations,” he said calmly. “But if you want to tell me what’s going on, I’ll try to help.”

  “I’m sorry. I know I called you…but,” she said, her entire body visibly stiffening. “Oh, my God. This is so hard.”

  He noticed the quiver in her voice. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

  “I can’t believe I’m about to dump this on you,” she said, her face fraught with tension. “Only a few people even know about it.”

  “Just start from the beginning, nice and easy,” he leaned forward getting as close as the table would allow. “It’s just you and me here.”

  “Okay, here goes,” she said, taking a deep breath, the fear evident as she spoke. “I was out dancing with my friends and we got a little drunk…okay, a lot drunk…and they left me at a bar downtown.” She paused in trepidation. “You’re sure you want to here this? It’s not too late to change your mind.”

  “Only if you want to tell me…and it sounds like you do.”

  She continued. “My friends wanted to go and party with these guys we met and I wanted to go home. Well, we got into a huge fight. So, I told them I was going to walk home and they let me leave the bar…alone.”

  He frowned deeply, considering the implications of a young woman alone on the street, no matter how safe the neighborhood.

  She continued, the overlapping thoughts now released in a staccato burst. “So, I’m walking down the street, on my way home, and…well, I know I shouldn’t have been there…I feel so stupid… but…” she paused again.

  “It’s okay, I’m not judging you,” he said, waiting for her to gather her courage. “Just tell me what happened next.”

  The words began to flow again, the crumbling dam liberating a river of pent-up emotion. “There were these men, on the street…by this alley, and I tried to get by… and…and one had a knife…and…he grabbed me…” the tears began to form, rimming her eyes.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “You can tell me.” His hands turned white as he gripped the chair in anger, intuiting where her recollections were leading. Afraid the wrong word would kill any courage she’d mustered, he fell silent and again took her hands in his. He could see her face relax, the touch obviously welcome.

  The long-held tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. “I was…,” she pushed on, her face stretched tight in a mask of anguish and remembered terror. “They…they…raped me.”

  Blinking the tears from her eyes, she searched his face for some kind of reaction to her gut-wrenching admission.

  His face softened before her eyes, the frown now a gentle curve. Taking a deep breath, he held it for a second, then exhaled slowly. He willed the intense fury suddenly pounding within him back under his control. He couldn’t let his incendiary anger at these horrible men add to her misery.

  “Oh, my God! I’m so sorry,” he softly said, holding her hands more firmly in reassurance. “I can’t even imagine how hard it must have been for you to say that.”

  She expelled a tight breath, the tension still evident. “I wanted to tell you before, but I couldn’t, not so soon,” she said, forcing a thin smile. “It’s not exactly something you tell a guy on a first date.”

  “I understand,” he said. “I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me now.”

  “There’s more,” she said, taking her hand from his and wiping the wetness from her cheeks. “Last chance to run.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he sat up a little taller, giving her a thin smile. “What’s that old saying; in for a penny, in for a pound?”

  She felt a little stronger now, his gentle manner and tender, undemanding touch bolstering her fragile courage.

  “The bastards got away with it,” she sniffed. “And it was my fault.”

  “Hold on right there. It wasn’t your fault. I don’t care how drunk you were. There’s no excuse for what they did to you,” he took a shallow breath before continuing, “How the hell did they manage to get away with it? Didn’t the police go after them?”

  “Combine all the booze with the dark alley and I really couldn’t give the cops a very good description of the men. So, they didn’t really put a lot of effort into finding them.”

  He nodded in grim understanding. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Sometimes I feel like it was all my fault. I was drinking too much and not paying attention to my own safety,” she shook her head in self-recrimination. “I really do know better.”

  She continued, another loud sniff breaking the quiet. “For a while, I blamed my friends. After all, they let me leave alone and went off hooking up with some guys. But, after I thought about it, I realized it wasn’t their fault.”

  “No, it was the fault of the men who did it,” he said. “No one else’s.”

  “I prayed for someone to come…someone to help me.” The tears resumed their course down her face.

  “No one came to help you?” He asked, his face filled with deep sympathy.

  “Someone came, but they didn’t help,” she said, her eyes glazed in recollection. “I might have been drunk, but I know a man stopped and looked into that alley. He saw what was happening and did nothing. He just turned his back and left me there.”

  Doug’s face was now pale and drawn tight, his eyes expanding in concern. “I’m so sorry. I really don’t know what to say.”

  “When they were…when they were…done…they were going to kill me,” she continued, visibly shivering. “If a dog hadn’t started barking and scared them off, I’d be dead.” Her eyes met his. “I can still feel the knife cutting my throat.” she tilted her chin up, showing him the scar.

  He stifled a small horrific gasp. “I’m glad you confided in me. But, why are you telling me this now?” he asked, “What changed from an hour ago?”

  “This is so hard,” she said, wiping the new tears from her eyes. “Are you sure you want to hear the rest?”

  “I think you want to tell me,” he said, eyes beseeching her to continue. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

  She held his gaze for several interminable seconds. “It’s a long story, but I found out who they were…”

  “So, you found out who they were, then what?”

  His continued comfort enabled her to muster a small trace of mettle, and it entered her tone. “I went after the bastards one by one…and I caught them.”

  “And then?” he prodded, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “I confronted them,” she said. “And ended up shooting three of them.”

  “Holy shit!” he said, his face now losing all color. “Does anybody know yet?”

  “The cops are looking for me,” she said. “I just saw them at my place. That’s why I called.”

  “Damn!” he said. “You have to turn yourself in.”

  “That isn’t going to happen,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t do that.”

  “They’re gonna find you eventually. You know that, right?” he said, the concern for her evident. �
�It will be a lot worse when they do.”

  “I know,” she said. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “Oh, believe me, I do understand. You wanted justice, so you made it for yourself. I’m just so sorry you had to go through that,” he turned to her, face hopeful. “Is there any way you can call it self-defense?”

  “I don’t see how,” she said dejectedly. “The cops will say I just hunted them down and killed them.”

  “That true?” he asked, then shook his head. “I can’t see you doing that.”

  “For the most part it’s true,” she said. “I did track them down, but I didn’t want to hurt anybody. I just wanted them to admit what they did to me. That’s all.”

  “Did they?”

  “Yes. To a man, they said I wanted it,” she spat in unconcealed disgust. “Can you believe that?”

  “Worthless pricks!” he hissed in stark revulsion. “No wonder you shot them.”

  “It gets worse.” The matter of fact statement came out cold and forbidding, sending a chill down her spine.

  “Worse than that?” he quickly considered the possibilities then gasped aloud in horror, face again ashen. “Oh, God, tell me you’re not…sick. They didn’t give you something, you know, an STD, did they?”

  “No, nothing like that,” she volunteered quickly. “I was so freaked out I got tested like three different times to be sure.”

  Knowing she’d dodged a lethal bullet, he visibly relaxed, a miniscule splash of color returning to his cheeks. “Thank God.”

  She scanned the courtyard again making sure the tables remained empty so her confessions would fall on his ears alone. “One came after me with a pipe,” she lifted her arm and raised her shirt, exposing the softball-sized welt on her chest, now an ugly black and blue. “Son of a bitch broke two of my ribs.”

  “Holy shit!” he said, wincing at the sight of the wound.

  She lowered her shirt. “That’s when I shot him.”

  “That’s hard core, but it could still be considered self-defense,” he said, scrubbing his face in his hands. “What a fucking mess!”

  He gave her a sideways glance. “You also realize that you just made me an accessory.”