The Accident

by James Kipling

  Unwilling to let her eyes watch the woman any longer, Jessica hurried inside and locked the kitchen door. “Who was that?” she whispered again, as her eyes quickly examined a medium sized kitchen that resembled the 1950's. Blue linoleum flooring and blue appliances, gathered together with brown counter tops and cabinets, greeted Jessica's eyes. Each appliance in the kitchen was vintage, and had been purchased from an antique dealer that had managed to find Jessica top quality Westinghouse appliances that were in excellent working condition. Oh, how Jessica had adored restoring the old house into a 1950's dream; a house that had been severely neglected for decades. The kitchen had been her absolute favorite room in the entire house; only now, the kitchen felt like a cold tomb rather than a warm hug.

  Jessica stood very still with her back pressed against the back door and listened to the silence humming in the kitchen. It wasn't long before the cow clock hanging over the kitchen sink began to tick in her ears...tick...tick...tick...The ticking of passing seconds seemed to form a cruel hand that began tormenting the days that lay ahead for Jessica to travel through. How was she going to endure the loneliness, the emptiness, the silence? Jessica felt like screaming. Her heart began racing as panic rushed into her emotions. What was she going to do? Jack's life insurance policy would offer financial security for a while, and Jessica knew she could always return to teaching. Money wasn't the issue. The issue was her heart. How was a woman supposed to begin a new life without the man she had vowed to love forever? How was she supposed to love again...create new memories with a new man...begin a new life with a different canvas? Was a woman simply to switch gears, tuck in her grief, put on a big girl’s face, and go in search of a new romance simply because her husband was dead? Maybe that was the way people were in the current world, but Jessica possessed an old-fashioned heart that believed in loyalty. Tick...tick...tick…

  “I'll make myself a cup of tea and--” A brown telephone hung beside a 1953 Westinghouse refrigerator that was in perfect working order. The refrigerator had cost Jack a pretty penny, but the man had insisted his new wife have the item as a wedding present. Jessica startled at the sound of the ringing telephone, and then quickly placed her purse down on the kitchen counter and hurried to answer the call. The caller, she assumed, was most likely her sister. “Hello?”

  “I tried your cell phone,” Mandy Andrews spoke in a worried voice.

  “I left my cell phone at home,” Jessica explained, grateful to hear her sister's voice. Jessica and Mandy were close at heart and loved one another the way only two sisters who understood pain and sadness could. “Are you at home?”

  “No, I'm at work,” Mandy explained, sitting in a cramped office crammed full of messy papers and files. Working for a busy carpet company was no easy task for a thirty-four year-old woman strapped down in a wheelchair. A gal had to earn a living, though, as Mandy always told her sister every time Jessica insisted her sister come and live with her. “I'm up to my ears going through past invoices. There's an incredible hole in the books. It looks like someone was stealing,” Mandy continued. “I'm not sure I should have taken this promotion and...” Mandy stopped. “I'm sorry, Jessie. Sometimes my mouth gets away from me.”

  “Don't be sorry,” Jessica told her sister. “Life doesn't stop because a man dies, does it?” she asked. “No, life doesn't stop. On the drive back from the cemetery, I passed vehicles carrying people to...wherever...people who had no idea they were driving past a grieving widow. That's life.” Jessica felt tears swell in her eyes as her voice choked up. “Yes...that's life,” she finished, as her tears fell free.

  “Oh Jessie.” Mandy said, wishing she could be with her sister to offer support and comfort. Jessica had insisted Mandy stay in Georgia. No...not Jessica: The CIA. The CIA had insisted that not one single family member attend the funeral. A memorial service for Jack Mayes would be held at a later date, Jessica was informed by a creepy man wearing a gray suit. However, for security reasons, it was, only the wife that was allowed to bury her dead husband. What security reasons? Jessica wasn't privilege to that information. “I'm clocking out and driving up--”

  “No,” Jessica begged. “Mandy, there's no point in you driving to Pennsylvania.” Jessica wiped at her tears. “You've just begun a new position with your company...”

  “Pooh on my job,” Mandy told Jessica. “You're--”

  “I want to be alone,” Jessica gently interrupted her sister. “Mandy, I love you, but right now….I know you understand.”

  “I can pretend I do, but I don't,” Mandy answered in an honest voice. She lowered her eyes, studied the thick gray sweater she had put on over a plan brown dress, and shook her head. She could deal with her poor taste in clothes. Having a lame right leg that strapped you down in a wheelchair was the real problem. The lame leg, which came about when Mandy was ten years old, after she had fallen out of a tree, had caused the woman to suffer bouts of depression that ended up being medicated with food. Although she was a beautiful woman with the prettiest, silkiest, black hair, the extra pounds had caused most men to back off, as if Mandy had the plague. “I have yet to experience love, Jessie. My mind can't possibly understand the grief you're feeling right now.”

  Jessica pictured her older sister sitting in a stuffy office going through stacks of old invoices searching for a thief. Mandy had always been a math genius—the type of woman who could multiply long numbers in her mind within seconds. Jessica on the other hand not only lacked in math, she also lacked in being technologically advanced. Jessica preferred a type writer over a computer, pencil and paper over e-mails, and a plain old oven over a microwave. She was a woman who hungered to live in a time that was simpler, innocent...clean; at least morally. But was there ever such a time, she sometimes wondered? Were the 1950's so grand? All Jessica knew was that the 1950's were far better than the age she was caged in. Mandy, on the other hand, seemed to simply go with the flow, take the punches, and manage to keep stepping into new rounds, without becoming infected by the demonic termites destroying America. “Jack was a very wonderful man. We were married...next week would have been a year.”

  “I know, honey,” Mandy sighed. “I'm so very sorry.”

  Jessica looked at the kitchen door, completely forgetting about the strange woman she had seen standing at the end of the driveway. “Jack and I dated for eleven months,” she whispered. “It was...love at first sight.”

  “Jack was a sweet man.”

  Jessica slowly closed her teary eyes and saw herself standing in front of the Vietnam Wall. It had been a cold day. Light snow was in the air; along with a very bitter, cold, wind. Jessica was staring at the Vietnam Wall, honoring the men who had died, inside of her mind, when a strange man stepped up beside her. The man had been Jack Mayes. “All those men,” Jack spoke in a low, upset voice, “died for the reasons people refuse to accept.” Jessica, startled by the strange man, turned and looked up into a handsome, bold, face. “War is never for justice,” Jack continued. “War is created by evil men who don't mind seeing young men die.” With those words Jack laid a rose down on the ground, looked at Jessica, and simply walked off, leaving Jessica feeling startled and confused. As she watched Jack walk off, something inside of her heart told her to call out to the man. “Excuse me,” Jessica called out, and waved a white gloved hand into the air as the icy winds grabbed at her long blond hair, “who are you?” And with those words a sweet love was born. “Jack cared about humanity,” Jessica finally spoke to Mandy. “He cared about...people's feelings.”

  “I know,” Mandy promised.

  Jessica felt a painful knot appear on her beautiful face. “But not me, Mandy. I stopped caring. That's why I quit teaching.” Jessica looked around the kitchen, and then her eyes stopped at a little round kitchen table covered over with a light blue table cloth. She could see Jack sitting at the table drinking coffee and reading his Bible. “The schools began forcing me to teach in a way that was...sinful, Mandy. I was being
forced to become a monster, being forced to corrupt the minds of innocent children, forced to accept teachings that were not Biblical.”

  “We live in a secular world that is extremely anti-Christian, Jessie.”

  “How did we get to this point?” Jessica asked in a tormented voice. “Even worse, how did I get to the point of quitting? I could have applied for teaching positions at private Christian schools, but instead I walked away. That's when I met Jack, after I stopped fighting.” Jessica felt tears stream down her soft cheeks. “Jack put a little fight back in me. Now he's gone...swallowed up.”

  Mandy didn't know how to respond or what to say. “Sis, why don't you drive down to Georgia and spend some time with me? I have my new house, be it a small house, but a new house nonetheless. We can do a lot of baking, take drives, and go up to the lake on Fort Mountain. You liked Fort Mountain, remember?”

  “I remember,” Jessica whispered. “Jack loved the Fort Mountain park.” Jessica closed her eyes. “Mandy...I'll call you back tonight,” she promised, unable to bear the pain any longer. Her shaking hand hung up the phone before Mandy could say another word. “Oh Jack,” Jessica completely broke, slid down onto the kitchen floor, placed her face into her hands, and wept. “Oh Jack...why?”

  Outside, in the rain, sitting in a black van, the strange woman who had been watching Jessica listened to a grieving widow cry her heart out. “Nothing yet,” Wendy Cratterson spoke into a black cell phone in a cold, icy voice. The woman studied an expensive set of surveillance equipment sitting before her on a metal bench, spotted Jessica sitting on the kitchen floor on a small camera screen, and made a sour face. “Are we certain Jack Mayes passed on the information to his wife?” she asked.

  Roger Alden walked over to a square window, pulled back a white drape, and looked out at Washington DC, resting his eyes on the Capitol building. “The state of our mission is at risk. The president must be eliminated. We need the information Jack Mayes stole. Is that clear?” he said, and ended the call.

  Chapter 2

  Dalton, Georgia

  Dalton, Georgia was known as the carpet capital of the world, and the perfect place to work if a person hungered for a career that revolved around the common household luxury. Dalton was also the most industrialized town in Georgia, making the town, in Jessica's opinion, the perfect town for working class families who were comfortable living a modest middle-class life style. Dalton State College, a small but intelligent college, sat out beside interstate I-75, which darted south to Atlanta and north to Chattanooga, allowing citizens of Dalton who decided to work elsewhere the chance to seek jobs in larger cities, which offered stronger incomes through a variety of employment opportunities. All in all, Jessica thought, taking exit 333, which routed her to Walnut Avenue, Dalton was a decent town that offered a simple living. “I just came off the exit,” Jessica spoke into a silver-colored cell phone. “I see a Chick-Fil-A up ahead. I think I might stop for a bite to eat.”

  Mandy felt relief touch her nerves. The early afternoon sky was dark, and filled with a heavy rain that wasn't going to depart the area anytime soon. She had worried herself sick over Jessica driving on the interstate in the rain. Now that Jessica was safely on Walnut Avenue, she felt her nerves relax a little. “I'm not too far from you. I work up here on what the locals call 'The Hill'. I can get to your location in about...oh...half an hour.” Mandy checked the clock on her desk. “I told Mr. Perkins that I was going to be leaving early today. I'm in the clear in about ten minutes. It should take me about ten minutes to get to my van, and about another ten minutes to get to you, depending on the traffic and all the red lights.”

  Jessica drove past a Red Roof Inn, a McDonalds, and a Panda Express. She made it through the red lights, then past a Kentucky Fried Chicken, and finally reached the Chick-Fil-A. The turn into the parking lot was tight but she managed to pull her Dodge Journey off Walnut Avenue and safely park in front of a concrete wall. “I'm parked,” she told Mandy, feeling exhausted. Originally, Jessica had decided against driving to Georgia to spend time with her sister. Her mind was pushed in a different direction when she spotted the strange woman, who had been standing at the end of her driveway on the day Jack Mayes had been buried, appear for a second time. Jessica had spotted the woman jogging down her street while returning from the grocery store. The woman jogged to Jessica's home, looked around, and then jogged away while Jessica parked her Dodge Journey in the garage next to her husband's truck. The woman, for whatever reason, scared Jessica. Who was the strange lady in black? Why was she watching a grieving widow? Was the woman attached to the CIA or FBI? Jessica didn't know. All she did know—what her mind was certain of—was that she was being watched. Why she was being watched was the question. “I’ll sit in my SUV until you arrive,” she informed Mandy. “The parking lot is a little crowded. Maybe the crowd will thin out by the time you arrive?”

  “Our local Chick-Fil-A is always crowded, Sis,” Mandy explained. “Sit tight and I'll be there in a bit.”

  “I'll see you then.” Jessica put the cell phone in her purse and then dared to check her face. Usually, she wore a little makeup, not much, but enough to compliment her beauty without overpowering her delicate features. On that rainy day, Jessica was wearing no makeup. Her blond hair was simply laying loose on her shoulders without any certain style, blending in with a drab gray coat that seemed to hang on Jessica, instead of fitting her form. Gray and drab...that was the new Jessica Mayes. “The new me,” Jessica sighed, lowered her eyes from the rear view mirror, drew in a deep breath, and waited for Mandy to show up.

  As Jessica sat in the Chick-Fil-A parking lot, resting in a rain-soaked SUV, Wendy Cratterson drove past in a black 2015 Dodge Charger. She quickly spotted Jessica's Dodge Journey through the heavily falling rain, and swung the Dodge Charger into a RaceTrac gas station situated next to the Chick-Fil-A. “Jessica Mayes is parked at a Chick-Fil-A located on Walnut Avenue in the town of Dalton, Georgia,” she spoke into a black cell phone in a cold, deadly voice. “Mark subject location and my arrival time.”

  “Subject location and arrival time marked,” a male voice spoke. The voice, although human, sounded oddly robotic. Wendy knew the voice belong to James Whitmore, a computer geek who worked in the IDC, the Information/Data Center. The IDC was the CIA's special little toy that allowed them to connect to the NSA, the FBI, the DIA, and other alphabet soup agencies that were all controlled by the CIA; including the IRS, the DEA and the Department of Homeland Security. The CIA controlled America, splintering off into secret shadow agencies that operated in each public agency, under operational disguises that the public was unaware of. Each agency, although controlled by the CIA, was full of ‘Rogue Agents’ working for different contacts. Therefore, shadow agencies within the agency had to be created, in order to secure proper operations while searching out the rogue agents. It was a tangled web of manipulation, murder, power and money, and information was the golden nugget that allowed either victory or defeat. Information was the ultimate power cord that energized the voice of control and victory. However, information, due to the new computer age, was no longer as black and white as it had once been. Information was now an extremely delicate and sensitive hidden mouse, scrambling through a very confusing maze. No single person or agency had full control of all the information being stolen, sold, hidden or even openly posted onto social media sites. The internet, created for absolute control, had become an enemy of the CIA. Information being transformed into electronic data was impossible to control, and the internet was nothing but a large room to play hide and seek in.

  “Tell Mr. Alden I have arrived,” Wendy ordered James, as she pulled up in front of a gas pump and parked. “I'll begin immediate eyesight surveillance, and make contact at 2200 hours tonight. In the meantime, send in the surveillance van.”

  “2200 hours,” James confirmed. “Routing Surveillance to your location. Log is marked.”

  Wendy ended the call with a sour face. “I
'm wasting my time,” she complained under her breath.” Jessica Mayes does not have the stolen information. Alden is an idiot for sending me on this wild goose chase.” Wendy watched the heavy rain strike the windshield for a few minutes, and then stepped out of the car and looked around. The Chick-Fil-A was sitting right next door to the RaceTrac. A building that had once housed a grocery store stood behind the RaceTrac and Chick-Fil-A. A hotel was perched directly across the street. Simple layout. Somewhat crowded, but simple. The only problem Wendy foresaw were the numerous red lights that lined Walnut Avenue. Wendy had intentionally spooked Jessica to see how the woman would react, deliberately disobeying orders. Unfortunately, Jessica didn't react the way Wendy had anticipated. Instead of showing signs of fear associated with a person who was aware they were being watched—signs of fear associated with a person who had been given dangerous, classified information—Jessica had simply made contact with her sister and scheduled a trip to Georgia, without the smallest hint that she was aware that someone was stalking her. Now, Wendy was forced to remain out of sight and simply do her job, instead of eliminating a useless widow who certainly didn't possess dangerous information. Jack Mayes was an extremely brilliant man who would not have dared pass off the information he had stolen to his wife. No, Jack was far more clever than that. Roger Alden, on the other hand, was insistent that Jessica Mayes was the recipient of her husband's treachery. Wendy despised Roger Alden and wanted the man dead. She despised being a low ranked Intelligence Operations Member. She wanted power. “You have one week, Mrs. Mayes, then you die, .regardless of whether you have the stolen information or not. And in your case, I'm certain you don't.”