I could see the road downhill a quarter-mile, but perhaps seventy-five to one-hundred yards uphill from where I’d taken sanctuary. The grade of the road coupled with its twisty curves slowed traffic speeds, especially uphill, where I had the best opportunity to choose which ride to stop.
I crouched behind a line of shrubbery to wait but doing so compressed my rib cage and increased the pain. I was forced to stand. I might’ve eased the pain by lying on my back, but then my view of traffic would be hampered. There wasn’t a happy medium; standing was the only option. Over the next hour, I kept watch for traffic. Three vehicles had passed my location, all destined for the bottom of the hill. One pickup came into view traveling northbound in the right direction, but I hesitated to flag the vehicle down being unsure of the occupants. At the sight of a sedan making its way up the hill, I moved from behind the hedgerow and waited.
Two occupants came into view, and the vehicle slowed to a crawl when I stepped out onto the asphalt. They pulled to a stop alongside where I stood. My concern lessened as the travelers appeared to be teenage boys.
The passenger rolled down his window, but his look of shock explained why he didn’t say anything.
“Thanks for stopping,” I said in a garbled, hoarse voice.”
The youngster seated behind the steering wheel reacted as I’d expected when he caught a closer glimpse of me. “What on God’s green earth happened to you? You in a car wreck?”
I must have looked like death warmed over with my face battered, bruised and swollen. Remnants of blood and mud complimented my disheveled appearance. I appreciated their startled honesty, but I wasn’t in the mood to reciprocate with the truth. “Uh, guys, I knocked off too many last night and it got the best of me.” I shot them a cheesy, painful smile. They laughed.
The driver asked, “You weren’t driving were yah?”
“Nah, I was riding with friends. I thought they were friends anyhow. Don’t really remember the specifics, but I ended up holding the short end of the stick.” I took a moment to look around then continued. “The truth is, I don’t know how I got here. I remember taking a tumble down that ravine over there.” I pointed across the road in the general direction of the valley.
“It’s a good thing you weren’t driving,” the passenger remarked.
“You were a lucky man. You could’ve gotten yourself seriously hurt,” the driver said.
“Well, I think I got the hurt part covered.” Again, I tossed them a big, sheepish smile.
The boys had a chuckle at my expense. That was okay; I was happy to liven up their day as long as I got a lift back to town from them.
The guy behind the wheel said, “You need a ride to see a doctor, Mister.”
“Don’t think that’s necessary, but a ride would be much obliged.
The driver asked, “Where you be headin’?”
“Back into Cassville”
The driver looked at me and said, “You’re kiddin’ right? We’re a little ways from Eureka Springs.”
“Never heard of it. I’m not from around here, but I left my car in Cassville.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. I peeled off a C-note and held it in the opening of the passenger window. “Would that make it worth your time to run me to Cassville?” The boys smiled a lot then.
The driver shouted, “Joe Don, get in the back. Let this man have a seat up front. We’re goin’ up to Missouri.”
The passenger opened the door, stepped out, and politely invited me to take a seat. I handed the money to the driver and said, “So—we’re not in Missouri?”
Joe Don spoke up, “No sir, you’re in Arkansas. It ain’t that far to go. Maybe an hour and then some.”
“What’s your name?” The driver asked.
“Walter. Yours?”
“Ricky, and that’s Joe Don back there.”
“Nice to meet you guys. You came along at the right time.” I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. The boys were quiet and respectful, but the pain kept me from sleep. We made a pit stop once along the way. Ricky ran into a gas station convenience store and returned with a plastic bottle of water. He twisted the cap off the bottle and handed it to me. Ricky said, “You need this, you look pretty dry.” He was right. Dehydration wasn’t aiding my recuperation. Painful or not, I had to push past the soreness in my jaw exacerbated by the sales pitch I’d given the boys for the ride. I thanked Ricky for the water and took several painful sips.
A mile away from Cassville, Joe Don touched my shoulder and let me know we were nearly in the town. I provided Ricky with the general direction of the bar where I’d parked the Avenger. Once we were on Ninth Street, it wasn’t difficult to locate the bar. We turned the corner onto East Street and parked next to the chain-link fence. My Avenger sat parked in front of us. In a joking manner, Ricky said, “You might want to stay out of the bar.” I nodded.
During the trip back to Cassville, an underlying concern surfaced. What would be my next step if they towed my car? Evidently it had not been an issue for the bar. Duke knew I’d parked the Avenger at the tavern. It was unbelievable he hadn’t disposed of my car. Rank amateurs.
“Hey guys, here’s a little something for the road.” Their eyes lit up when I handed each of them an extra Jackson for their trouble. “You guys are the cream of the crop around here, and I mean that.” The boys were all smiles. “Hey, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone. It’s embarrassing. It would be better if it didn’t get out.”
“No problem, Mister,” Ricky said.
“What time is it?” I asked.
Joe Don looked at his wristwatch and said, “Five-fifteen.”
With my hands swollen in pain, I struggled to operate the door handle inside Ricky’s car. Joe Don patiently waited while I manipulated the handle to no avail. Finally, he opened the door from outside the car. I stood to my feet, got my balance, and said, “Thanks.” Joe Don jumped in the front seat, slammed the door, and waved out the window as they drove off.
In Cassville happy hour started around four and went until seven. It looked as if the party was well underway. The parking lot was hopping. I moved as quickly as possible to get behind the wheel of my rig. I struggled to get my hand into my pocket. Touching the keys with my fingertips, I managed to catch the key ring with a finger and pull them out. I used my left hand, the one used least in the fight, to operate the key lock and door handle. Once inside I fumbled with the keys until the ignition key was inserted, and the engine started.
A fine dust that had covered the Avenger was a good sign it hadn’t been disturbed. I looked the lot over for Duke’s pickup; it wasn’t to be found. Maybe I was too late for their victory celebration. I backed out and pulled onto the street.
I had a developing situation that worked to my advantage. Duke and the Alaskan’s believe me to be dead, to the rest of the people in Barry County I’d vanished into thin air. Every rabbit had a hole to hide in, and I’d find one too. I needed to mend for a while.
At eight-thirty I checked into a small, low budget, motel on the outskirts of Springfield, Missouri. Upscale joints have security features I wanted to avoid and possibly question my appearance as well. Less expensive motels treat all paying customers with the same indifference. No questions asked.
I grabbed my bug-out bag from the car trunk and headed for my room on the first floor. Once inside, I pulled out my spare cell phone and activated it. I placed a call to Anna and left a message with my number for her return call. I placed the phone onto the nightstand and keeled over onto the bed.
I was still stunned from the registration clerk’s words “It’s Friday.” I didn’t have reason to doubt the clerk, except that meant I’d lost four days and not one day as I had supposed.
I slept throughout the night and until noon the next day. I struggled off the bed and battled to maintain my balance against the dizziness. I took off my shoes, pulled my dirty clothes off and tossed them in the bathroom sink to wash. I cranked the hot water o
n high and ran the stream of spray against the tub’s sidewall enclosure. I left the plug out so it could run until the hot water ran out. I counted on the steam loosening the caked blood in my sinuses.
When the condensation cleared from the bathroom mirror, I surveyed the damage. What was commonly referred to as black and blue all over was an understatement. Every color of the rainbow was represented. Brown, red, yellow, green and orange spectrums all intermingled. The only notable improvement from the previous day was the deep purple facial swelling around my eyes had diminished.
Pulling spare clothes from the bug-out bag I struggled to dress. Naked was preferable, but out of necessity I got dressed. The motel had furnished a small ice bucket in the room. I wobbled to the first-floor laundry room and retrieved some much-needed ice. Using latex gloves from my bag, I made ice packs. The painful process to control swelling was underway.
When the cell phone rang, I cleared my throat to answer. Drainage of fluids and blood affected my voice box to sound raspy and old in years.
“Hi Walter, did I wake you?”
“Nah, I’ve been up since noon.” I worked hard to pull my thoughts together to say what needed saying.
“Your call was unexpected.”
“Listen, I’m kind of in a bad way right now. I could use your help.” The lump of pride that had formed in my throat went down hard as I swallowed. Anna knew this wasn’t me being a jokester. Joking around wasn’t one of my attributes. I was a loner and disdained asking anyone for anything.
“What happened?” Her voice crackled with surprise.
“Do you have plans for the next couple weeks?”
“Are you in the same place as before?”
“Not exactly—but close by.”
“All right, I’ll call when I have my arrangements completed.”
“Good. Use the east side major hub. It’ll be closest to where I am.”
Ten minutes later, Anna called to confirm her arrival time. We agreed she’d call after she picked up a rental to drive and was southbound on Interstate 44. I’d give her further details at that time.
I took advantage of having a fully stocked bug-out bag. There had been times in the past when stalking a predator I was unable to disengage to find an eatery or convenience store. I wasn’t fond of meal replacement drinks and nutritional bars, but on occasion when I’d found them necessary, they were useful. I’d kept my bag stocked for such an emergency, and my present situation qualified.
I cracked the top on a can of Ensure and used the straw off an orange juice container. I drew the room temperature liquid meal through the straw but, in spite of my precautions, it was followed by a double whammy. Pain shot through my jaw and hammered me nearly off my feet. If that wasn’t sufficient discomfort, I’d developed a sore throat making matters worse. But regardless of the pain, fluids and nourishment had to be consumed.
I put in place a routine of ice packs, hot showers, and frequent liquid food supplements. My bug-out bag was stocked with containers of Gatorade, Ensure, tomato and orange juices. I tried a relatively soft nutrition bar, but there wasn’t a chance I’d be able to chew or swallow any size chunks. The attempt to crunch granola had produced another discovery. All my teeth felt loose. Lucky though, I hadn’t lost any in the fight. It was one thing I could smile about, but painful.
Chapter 9
“A friend is a gift you give yourself.”
—Robert Louis Stevenson
At five minutes after six I’d polished off the last of the Ensure for my evening meal. Anna had called earlier for directions, and I expected she would arrive soon. While I waited, my thoughts focused on Anna’s willingness to help. In my book, she was a heroine. She’d answered the call and dropped everything that was on her plate to aid in my rescue. I hoped she’d stick around a while and nurse me back to health. I couldn’t help questioning what my chances were to rekindle our relationship.
Late in the evening, Anna called. “I’m outside in the parking lot.”
“Come on in.”
The knock was quiet and discreet. I wobbled my way to the door with my .40-caliber in hand. Not that I expected trouble but smart habits don’t die. I opened the door, and Anna stepped in quickly. She took a good look at my face then crossed to the dresser a few feet away where she laid her purse and a small tote bag.
I was mildly surprised that she hadn’t commented on my appearance. Maybe I didn’t look as bad as the mirror reflected. I kept my feet under me fairly well considering the challenge I faced with my equilibrium. Frequent lightheadedness produced a feeling of walking tilted. I thought it amusing until I lost my balance. Fortunately, I was able to grab onto a dresser and hold on until the feeling passed. Hitting the floor wouldn’t be as funny as the feeling of walking at an angle on a flat surface.
Two double beds occupied the center of the room. Anna sat me on the edge of one and examined me from head to toe. “I want all your symptoms. Everything you’re feeling, and then I want to take a close look at your injuries.”
“What are you, a doctor?”
She didn’t reply to my sarcasm. She didn’t have to. But, the look she gave me wasn’t warm and fuzzy either. I hadn’t figured Anna for the nurturing type, but she was the only trustworthy person I had in my life that I could call. It took me back to a time when our relationship rocked; now it only felt rocky. I wasn’t about to let her dictate the terms of our relationship. However, it was to my benefit to tread lightly. She was now my whole world.
I wasn’t a pity party type guy, and I disdained whiners. What had happened was a butt whipping all right but I had manned up for the fight and I’d man up for the pain. I am a Palatini and know the dangers of the world better than most. Aches and pains were the least of my concerns. I would fulfill my Calling and Palatini oath even though there would be more pain to come. There was no escaping my Destiny.
“I just look like a mess; I’m okay.”
“Sure you are. You look like you went through a meat grinder in the wrong direction.”
Sarcasm aside, the tone of her voice said more than words about the way she felt.
“I need a little help for a day or two. That’s all.” I tried to soft-sell the idea I’d been pulverized, but she saw through my act.
“Why did you call?”
Fair question, I thought. “In a nutshell, I stumbled across a situation in Shell Knob. Unfortunately, I’m too close to the people involved. I wouldn’t be effective at the legwork on the project.”
Anna helped me up and steadied my gait by holding my arm as she led me to where the two wood framed tub chairs sat side by side. Anna moved the coffee table out of the way and eased me into one chair then moved her chair next to mine and sat facing me.
I hadn’t paid attention to the condition of the motel room or its furnishings until now. I’d been single-focused over the last couple days. With Anna’s arrival, I knew the accommodations were beneath her standards and questioned whether the arrangements were adequate for her needs—but they’d have to do for the next few days.
It wasn’t so much the simple rectangle design of the room with its adjacent bathroom that was so unappealing. It was the 1960s vintage look. Out-of-date dark laminate wood furniture, coupled with dark-green shag carpet with olive-drab wallpaper, set the mood. Dreary.
Anna saw that I was uncomfortable and responded with gentle care. She removed the two throw pillows from her chair and tucked them in alongside my shoulders. She gave me a quick kiss on the forehead and sat back down. With folded hands on her lap she asked, “Tell me about the project.”
“First, I’d like to apologize for the accommodations, funds were tight.” Maybe it wasn’t necessary to bring it up, but Anna was accustomed to finer living. On our first mission in Thailand, we stayed at a beautiful resort in Bang Saen on the South China Sea. From Thailand, we flew to Milan, Italy and traveled to Bellagio, on Lake Como. We spent a few days chilling out as guests at the Grand Hotel Villa Serbelloni, a luxurious five-star hotel.
She hooks up with me and now finds herself in a Springfield dump.
Anna sighed, “That’s foolish. Now, I want to hear about the project.”
I left out most of the particulars concerning Joyce. I had an inkling it would be in poor taste and not warmly received. Instead, I concentrated on what would be considered a Palatini mission in Anna’s eyes.
The hook in every project was the victim. Anna wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to seek vengeance for an abused and murdered girl. All assassins of our creed believed rapists and murderers that committed such vile crimes would strike again.
Anna interrogated me until I had to call a halt to the questions for the night. I understood what she was doing; she was building a foundation for the project she had in mind. In my current condition, I had limitations. What I needed was tender loving care. I might’ve called the wrong person.
“Can you help me with these bandages? You don’t have to know what to do, I’ll tell you.”
“I know what to do. I worked on an ambulance crew while I attended college. I haven’t forgotten everything in twenty years.” She paused and assessed my condition. Anna pushed and prodded in various areas, creating pain that I hadn’t experienced prior to her examination. When she’d completed her assessment, she removed my clothes, placed me in the bathtub, turned on the hot water, and scrubbed me down. I wasn’t sure I liked the treatment. Perhaps I was reading into it a level of punishment for my behavior toward her. Regardless, I refused to whimper no matter how much she hurt me, deliberately or not. She cleaned out the lacerations, applied antiseptic and bandaged the wounds.
“I have pain medication in my bag.”
“For the love of God woman, you could have given them to me before you inflicted all that pain, are you a sadist?” She tried to hide the devilish little grin.
I have no doubt it was deliberate, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t enjoy it.
Anna handed over a small container that I checked out closely. “Where did you get Percocet?”
“I picked them up after I returned from Toronto.”
Blood Appeal Page 13
