Fiction

June

A Simple Case of Life and Death

Jeremy Schneider

3 months later…

It took 5 hours of surgery and another 3 months of rehabilitation before Scott could properly use his left leg again. The cougar scratches on his chest and back had taken less time to heal but would not be forgotten any time soon. He had the scars to remind him the rest of his life.

The bullet removed from his shoulder blade had been presented to him by McAllen, Simms, and other assorted members of the Homicide squad in a mock ceremony in his hospital room 3 days after his surgery. He now had that little metal reminder of his 36 hours in hell strung around his neck on a gold chain.

Nightmares plagued him as he lay prostrate and infirmed in his private room on the third floor of St. Francis Hospital. He would wake in a start, cold fear gripping his spine. Phantom echoes of The Handler’s maniacal laughter ringing in his ears; the smell of the abandoned circus tent still fresh in his nose; the sight of the big cat’s teeth and its soulless stair burned into his eyes; the sensation of his flesh ripping apart as its claws tore into his body.

His only consolation lay with knowing that he had taken out the controls to The Handler’s chair and left him to be eaten by his own beloved animals. And of course there was Kendra, beautiful, sweet, Kendra. He could hardly believe now that at one point in his investigation he suspected her, of all people, to be involved with that sick, twisted criminal.

A suspicious mind was a prerequisite when he joined the force, but now with Kendra in his life, he was beginning to think that Trust and Love could also be allowed.

He was wheeled out of St. Francis Hospital on a sunny April morning and transferred to the passenger’s seat of his ‘68 Mustang convertible. Kendra slid in behind the wheel. Her blonde hair lay over her shoulders and she had her black Ray-Bans perched on her forehead. She turned and winked at Scott.

“Maybe I should drive?” Scott said with a trace of a smile on his face.

“You know, sweetie, the doctor said you can’t do any driving for another six weeks. Besides it was me who got us out of that hell-hole in San Pedro, remember that.”

He did remember it, all too well in fact. Pieces of that car still littered the New Mexico desert where they had made their escape. However that was a police issue vehicle and this was his prized possession, his hunter green 1968 Ford Mustang convertible. He had never let anyone else drive it. Maybe, he thought, this does mean I love her? “Ok. You’re right. You’re right. But if we’re ever in another desperate, escape for our lives, I’m taking the wheel.”

“You got it,” she said. She pulled the ray-bans down over hey eyes and put the car in first gear. “Ready, Freddy?” He checked his seatbelt strap, grabbed the door handle and closed his eyes. “Ready,” he said.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, detective.”

She eased out of the hospital parking lot and merged with the other traffic heading down Main Street. As they left the town limits behind and rolled into the open country side, Scott relaxed his grip and settled back into the passenger’s seat. He looked to his left and saw Kendra smiling back at him. It was such a beatific smile that he hardly minded that she wasn’t watching the road.

Her hair was blowing around her head in a dervish; the sun shone a key light on her face, highlighting her perfect skin. If she’ll accept, he thought, I’ll marry her right now. He could see his own reflection in her sunglasses. He was smiling too.

“What are you smiling at, detective?” She asked.

“Was I smiling? I didn’t even realize it. Watch the road. I guess if you go years with a permanent scowl on your face and then all of a sudden, out of the blue, something so wonderful happens that it makes you smile, you just can’t help yourself.”

“I see. And what is that something wonderful you’re alluding to?”

“You,” he said simply. “Watch the road.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls who saved your life.”

“Nope, just the ones who I am desperately, hopelessly, permanently, in love with,” he said. “Watch the road.”

If it was at all possible, her smile grew even wider. She didn’t say another word the entire rest of the trip home. However, over the roar of the wind, Scott did catch her humming some vaguely identifiable tune, The Wedding March if he wasn’t mistaken. She could read him all too well.

They pulled down the long gravel driveway leading to her house and stopped in front of the porch. Christine was standing just inside the screen door. She burst through the door and bounded down the steps almost immediately after the car pulled to a stop.

“Scott! Scott! Scott! You’re back. And you’re not dead,” she yelled, with her hands held out in front of her. Scott and Kendra laughed at her adorable way of stating the obvious.

“Hey, kid,” Scott said, opening the car door. “Not dead. And how are you?”

She jumped into the passenger’s seat and hugged him fiercely. “I’m fine. Thank you. I’ve been waiting forever for you to get back. I made you a sign that says welcome home in glitter and me and Maggie made some cookies. We ate the cookies but the sign is still here. Come on, I’ll show it to you.”

“No, you don’t,” Kendra said. She moved around the back of the car and picked her daughter up, giving Scott a chance to catch his breath and get out of the car. “You’ve got to take it easy for a while, girlie, even though he’s out of the hospital; Scott still needs time to heal.”

She looked disappointed. “Ok. I understand. Can I go get his present?” She asked, her mood brightening instantaneously.

“Sure. That would be fine,” Kendra said. Christine wiggled out of her mother’s arms and raced back up the steps and into the house.

“Present?” Scott asked.

“Just a little something to fill the void left by your police issue,” she said.

Maggie waddled out of the door with her purse slung over her shoulder. As always the copies of Mademoiselle, Elle, and People magazine were stashed in the crook of her arm.

“Thanks for watching her, Maggs,” Kendra said.

“No problem, Ms. Dearborn, she was a joy as always.”

“How much do I owe you?” Kendra asked, digging in her purse for some extra cash.

“Nadda, I ate my fee in shortbread and chocolate chip cookies.” She looked at Scott. “Well, I guess I’m out of a job now that you’re going to be around here permanently.”

“Impossible, Maggie,” Scott said. “I could never replace you; I could only hope to equal your proficiency as a babysitter.”

“Well, don’t burn the place down.” she said. She dropped her magazines into the basket on her ten-speed, mounted the bike, shocks working over time, and peddled off down the driveway.

Scott looked at Kendra, “Maggie,” he said.

“Yup, Maggie,” Kendra responded.

She took a hold of Scott’s arm and led him up the steps and helped him into a rocker on the porch. “Drink?” Kendra asked.

“That would be great, thanks,” Scott said. “Just some ice water with lemon would be fine.”

She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. “You got it, detective.” She pulled open the screen door, at that exact moment Christine was coming through it with Scott’s present in her hands. A wooden cane with a red bow wrapped around the handle.

“Here you go, Scott. Happy, um…”

“Birthday?” Scott prompted.

“Graduation?” Kendra suggested.

“Um, happy…welcome home, Scott,” Christine said. She handed Scott the cane and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you, kid. Thank you, Kendra, I think?”

“It’s just something to help you get along while you’re leg is still healing. It’s hickory. It belonged to my grandfather. I can’t always be around to help you out of bed or off the toilet,” Kendra said.

Christine giggled. Scott shrugged. “Who needs a toilet? I’ve been using a bed pan for six months and I don’t intend to stop now.”

“What’s a bed pan?” Christine asked her mother.

“It’s like a portable toilet for your bed,” Kendra said. “They use it when someone is too sick or weak to get up to use the regular toilet.”

“Oh,” Christine said. “We don’t have any bed pans here, Scott; just pots and baking tins.”

“That’ll do,” Scott said, suppressing a smile.

“Gross!” Christine cried.

“Ok. Enough toilet talk for one day,” Kendra said. “Come on, sweetie; let’s get Scott something to drink.” They were through the door and half way into the house. “And don’t forget the baking tin,” Scott called after them. Kendra rolled her eyes and Christine giggled again.

Scott was alone on the porch. He slid the bow down the length of the cane and stuffed it into his pocket. He tapped the cane on the wood, testing its sturdiness. He placed his weight on the cane and rose from the rocker. He walked to the porch steps and then back again, liking the feel of the polished hickory in his hand.

Christine came through the door. She held a large glass of ice water with a lemon wedge floating in it in both her hands. “Here you go, Scott,” she said, her gaze fixed on the glass as if it was more than happy to jump out of her hands and willingly smash itself on the porch steps.

Scott took the glass, “Thank you, kid.” He took a sip. “Ah. You make the best ice water.” He winked down at her.

Christine blushed and turned away. “Have you eaten?” she said to the yard and the car, anywhere but Scott’s face. “Mommy’s making sandwiches, peanut butter and jelly and grilled cheese.”

“I think I’ll have the grilled cheese, madam.”

Christine turned and pushed her way through the door. Scott drained the rest of the ice water and put the glass on the railing. Using the cane, he gingerly took the 3 steps off the porch and headed for the barn.

In the barn he found Eddie, snoring peacefully in a nest of hay and old blankets. Scott clapped his hands and the old dog grunted and looked up through glazed eyes. “Hey, mutt, did you miss me?”

Eddie grunted again, yawned loudly and shook the sleep out of his head. Translation: Yes, Scott, I did miss you. Boy you were gone a long time, huh? I sure am glad to see you again. I have so many questions to ask you, but the most important one right now is do you have anything to eat? I’m starving.

Leaning on the cane, Scott scratched Eddie’s head with the tips of his fingers. “Have you been guarding the homestead like the trusted companion I know you are?” Scott asked the old gold dog. Eddie sneezed and coughed up something brown. “Have you been lying on your ass, sleeping the day away and eating all of Kendra’s food? Yeah I thought so.”

The old dog seemed to be settling in nicely here at Kendra’s farm. “Well, I’m glad you like it here, boy, because this is our new home. The other one was blown up. Sorry to break this to you so suddenly.” Eddie took this shocking news in stride, however. He shook his head again and ambled over to his water dish and began lapping away. “Try to get a hold of yourself, pal. You’re embarrassing me,” Scott said sarcastically. It was absolutely amazing to Scott to think that Christine’s night terrors saved that mutt’s life.

Over in the corner, past two of the empty horse stalls, Scott saw the old D-Rad-R9 Motorcycle Kendra’s ex-husband had bought just before he was murdered. Scott limped over to the bike and pulled the moldy green tarp off it revealing the rusty hulk.

Rust spread over the front half of the bike like a brown fungus, the handle bars were missing, the front wheel was lying on its side on the seat and the headlight was cracked and missing a bulb, but all in all, for something that was built in 1929, the bike didn’t look too bad.

Nothing a little patience and a lot of time couldn’t fix, Scott thought. “I’ve always had the little patience,” he said to himself, “but I finally have the time to do something with it.”

For the first time since Susan died he could envision the future with an emotion other than quiet desperation and with the knowledge that he would not be facing the onslaught of days, weeks, months, and years alone. He now had Kendra and Christine (not to mention Eddie) to stand beside him and help him into a new phase of his life: Family Man.

Scott saw the words painted in a child’s hand with a stick figure likeness of himself standing beneath a gigantic smiling sun in a cloudless blue sky. He rolled the words around in his mouth and let them out into the dusty confines of the barn like two bright red helium balloons, “Family man.” He smiled. “I can live with that.”

Eddie’s barking punctured his reverie. He turned away from the bike and saw him in the front entrance to the barn looking off in the direction of the house. Scott walked lamely over to where Eddie was standing. As he got closer he could see the dog’s hackles were raised and his tail was sticking straight out.

“What is it, Ed? What’s all the racket?”

Eddie continued to bark ferociously.

As the front of Kendra’s house came into view he saw Christine standing on the path that led from the house to the barn. She was about 25 feet from the barn entrance. She had the plate with Scott’s grilled cheese sandwich held in the palms of her hands. Her knees were shaking and she had urinated down her right leg.

The white tiger was padding in front of her, its head bent, its ears pricking in the direction of Eddie’s barks. Its mouth was slightly open and its tongue was curled into a conical shape. Through its open mouth its heavy breathing was sending little clouds of dirt from the path into the air. With each step it took, its shoulder blades would swing back and forth under its course white fur. Its tail was low to the ground and twitching from side to side as if keeping time to a rhythm only the big cat could hear.

Scott’s first reaction was to reach for his police issue 9 millimeter Beretta which usually hung reassuringly in his shoulder holster. But he no longer had the gun or the holster to back him up.

The tiger was getting closer to Christine.

“Hey!” Scott called, hoping it would distract the tiger long enough for Christine to make a run for it. Almost immediately after this thought occurred to him he realized it was insane. The tiger would run her down before she got within 10 feet of the porch steps.

The tiger’s ears twitched in Scott’s direction, but it kept its ice blue eyes locked on Christine.

Scott moved farther out of the barn and on to the path, stamping his cane and calling at the top of his lungs the only word that his nerve addled mind could conjure, “Hey! Hey! Hey!”

Christine’s teary eyes darted in Scott’s direction. “Scott!” she cried out helplessly.

“I’m here, Christine! Just don’t move!” Scott told her.

The tiger turned and looked at Scott. Eddie, at his heals, continued to bark at the tiger. His teeth were bared and foam was flying from his muzzle. Even over Eddie’s barking, Scott could hear a low rumbling issue from deep within the tiger.

From his vantage point, about 15 feet from the animal, Scott could make out what looked like a blue, wire-halo on the crown of the tiger’s head. When the tiger turned back in Christine’s direction, Scott could see that wires ran from the halo and continued down the length of the tiger’s body; crisscrossing under and over its fur and ending at its tail bone.

“What the shit is this?” Scott asked himself.

The tiger moved a step closer. Christine let out a breathless yelp and dropped the plate with the sandwich, smashing it to bits.

The screen door to the house opened and Kendra came out, drying her hands with a dish towel. “Christine. Your sandwich is done.” she said, descending the porch steps. She stopped abruptly, her foot in mid-air between the first and second step when she saw the tiger. “Christine!” She missed the next step and fell to the dirt.

Christine reacted to the sound of her mother’s voice and turned toward the porch. “Mommy,” she called, the tears flowing freely now. She backed up and was about to make a break for the steps.

“No! Christine! Don’t move,” Scott pleaded.

Kendra pushed herself off the ground and hurried at Christine.

Scott could see what was about to happen. Telling Kendra to stay put would do no good. She wouldn’t listen to him. Her child was in danger and she was going to save her no matter the risk to her own life. However, her single-minded goal would, in the end, get both herself and Christine killed.

Panic wrapped its icy fingers around Scott’s spine and conspired to leave him immobile. Even if he could move, his crippled left leg wouldn’t do him much good against a 300 pound tiger. If he had two perfect legs he would still be outmatched by a hundred pounds or more. On the other hand, his current position did allow him a perfect vantage point to see the tiger when it finally decided to tear apart his only hopes for a happy future.

“Kendra! ” Scott screamed. He made to move forward, but Eddie beat him to it. The old dog darted through Scott’s legs and pounced on the tiger’s back just as Kendra reached Christine and scooped her into her arms.

The tiger was still standing, whipping its head back and forth, and trying to dislodge Eddie’s teeth from the back of its neck.

“Go, Kendra, now!” Scott said. “Get inside and lock the door.”

The tiger rolled over once and Scott heard a muffled yelp as the entire weight of the animal came down on Eddie’s frame. The tiger sprang back up. Eddie lay motionless in the dust blown yard.

Kendra ran for the porch with Christine in her arms.

“DON’T YOU GO ANYWHERE,” a tin voice from behind Scott said.

He turned around slowly. The Handler rolled into view from the corner of the barn. “YOU’LL MISS ALL THE FUN.”

Four months had done nothing to improve his looks; same pock-marked face; same crooked mustache with accompanying crooked grin; same all-white suit with the white Panama hat perched on his bald head; same motorized wheelchair with the four tires that looked like they belonged instead on an ATV.

The wheelchair lurched forward, sending plumes of dirt into the still afternoon air. The chair came to rest 3 feet from Scott’s frozen and disbelieving form. “DON’T FOOL YOURSELF INTO THINKING THIS IS A DREAM,” The Handler said. Two speakers mounted on either arm of the wheelchair projected an electronic facsimile of The Handler’s voice. A metal collar was wrapped around his throat, presumably where a microphone was hidden. His mouth remained closed, but his Adam’s apple bobbed when he spoke.

“No! This isn’t possible! You’re dead!” Kendra yelled from the porch steps.

“I GOT BETTER,” The Handler said. He moved his left arm (the only arm that still worked) and pressed a button on a control pad attached to the wheelchair’s arm rest. The tiger circled twice and then lay down with its head on its paws. A little blue light was blinking on the tiger’s halo.

“DO YOU LIKE IT?” The Handler said. “IT CONTROLS NERVE IMPULSES IN THE BRAIN. WITH THE FLICK OF A SWITCH I CAN CONTROL EVERY EMOTION THAT ANIMAL HAS. WE CAN’T HAVE ANOTHER INCIDENT LIKE THE ONE IN SAN PEDRO, CAN WE?”

“Even for a ghost you look terrible,” Scott said flatly.

The Handler’s face remained motionless. He pushed another button on the control pad and a pre-recorded laugh track blared from the two speakers. He pushed the button again and the laugh track stopped. “I AM GLAD YOU HAVEN’T LOST YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR, SCOTT.”

“I see you’ve lost an awful lot since the last time we met,” Scott said.

“JUST A PART OF BEING ALIVE, SCOTT. WE CAN’T MAKE THE LONG JOURNEY FROM THE CRADLE TO THE GRAVE WITHOUT LOSING SOMETHING OF OURSELVES ALONG THE WAY. IN MY CASE IT WAS THE ABILITY TO MOVE AND SPEAK WITHOUT THE AIDE OF THESE ELECTRONIC ACCOUTREMENTS.”

“I suppose you’re going to blame me for that, huh?” Scott said.

“NO. NO. NO. MY CP IS THE CAUSE OF MY IMMOBILITY. THE COUGARS MERELY SPED UP THE PROCESS WHICH WAS INEVITABLE. YOU ALLOWED THEM THE OPPORTUNITY TO DO WHAT THEY DID. BUT I CAN’T BLAME YOU; AFTER ALL, YOU WANTED ME DEAD.”

“I still do,” Scott said.

“TOTALLY UNDERSTANDABLE.”

“What do you want?!” Kendra yelled with a trace of panic in her voice. Christine was snuffling and holding onto her mother’s waist.

“GOOD QUESTION,” The Handler said, “MY WANTS ARE SIMPLE, REALLY. I WANT,” he pointed his chair towards Kendra and Christine, “TO WATCH YOU TWO DIE,” he turned his chair back to Scott, “AND I WANT TO SEE THE REACTION ON YOUR FACE WHEN THEY DO.”

“You don’t really think I’m going to let you do that, do you?” Scott said.

“I REALLY DON’T THINK YOU HAVE A CHOICE, SCOTT. HOW DO YOU THINK I GOT HERE? DROVE MYSELF? MY MEN ARE EVERYWHERE YOU CAN THINK OF. OH, DON’T BOTHER LOOKING, INVISIBILITY IS THEIR SPECIALTY. DON’T YOU SEE I AM IN CONTROL NOW? I AM HANDLING THINGS. LAST TIME YOU CAUGHT ME UNAWARE. NOW I HAVE THE UPPER HAND.”

“You can shove that hand up your ass,” Scott said.

The Handler’s eyes narrowed. “AND NOW IT’S TIME FOR THE MAIN ATTRACTION.” His index finger was poised over the button that controlled the tiger.

Scott hobbled the 3 feet to The Handler’s chair. “If you touch that button,” Scott said, “I’m going to kill you. And this time I’ll make it stick.”

“AND HOW DO YOU PROPOSE TO DO THAT?”

Scott looked down at the cane in his hand. A tiny echo of Kendra’s voice came to him, just a little something to fill the void left by your police issue, she had said. “I’ll think of something,” he said as he stuck the cane in between the front wheels on The Handler’s chair. “Run, Kendra! ” Scott yelled over his shoulder.

Kendra scooped Christine into her arms and ran up the porch steps and into the house; slamming the door behind them.

Scott pulled up on the cane as hard as he could. It snapped in half; leaving him with a foot and a half long wooden stake. With the stake in hand, Scott plunged it into The Handler’s control pad.

Sparks erupted from the arm of the chair. “NO! You FOOL! Now she’s LOOSE!” The Handler’s mechanized voice was fading in and out like a poorly received radio signal.

The tiger sprang up immediately. It lurched forward on three legs, roaring and pawing at its halo. Scott fell on his stomach beside The Handler’s chair, scrambling in the dirt for the other jagged end of his cane.

Sparks continued to spew from the control pad. Like a child throwing a tantrum The Handler pounded on the arm of his chair. “NO! NO! NO!” A spark leaped from the control pad and landed on the sleeve of his suit jacket. A black pin prick appeared and then a tiny wisp of smoke. The flames soon followed. They quickly spread up the length of his arm.

Scott found the other end of the cane. He pushed himself up on one arm and drove the cane into The Handler’s smoldering chest.

“Burn in Hell!” Scott screamed at the top of his lungs.

The Handler slumped forward in his chair as the flames licked his neck and soon his whole body was consumed. The heat was becoming too much for Scott. He tucked his arms close to his chest and rolled down the slight incline to the entrance of the barn.

The tiger had pawed the halo half off. It now hung by the wires around its neck swinging back and forth as the big animal roared in pain. The tiger was now not only mad but probably insane, blood dripped down its course white fur. It spotted Scott lying on his back at the edge of the barn entrance. It roared with an unearthly cry.

“Oh, shit,” Scott said.

He belly-crawled in the dirt, desperately trying to make it inside the barn where, hopefully, he could manage to shut the barn door and give himself another 10 or 15 seconds of precious life. That is, of course, until the tiger tore through the wood like fine paper.

With his back to the big cat, Scott could only hear the thump of its pads as it quickly gained ground on him. This is it. This is the end, he thought. Sweat burned his eyes and dirt coated his mouth as he gulped air into his lungs. So close to the barn door and yet so far away from anything even remotely resembling safety. He grabbed the barn door with the tips of his fingers, but just reaching the door had taken more strength than he could ever have imagined. Pulling himself in and then shutting the door seemed an act akin to mountain building.

BLAM!

Scott felt the tiger’s warm blood on his back and neck before he heard the crack of the shotgun blast. He flipped over on his back and saw Kendra standing on the path with a smoking double barreled shotgun pressed to her shoulder.

The tiger lay in the dirt, no more than 6 feet from Scott, in a quickly spreading pool of its own blood and brains.

She lowered the gun and walked on shaky legs over to Scott being careful to skirt the tiger carcass. She leaned down and helped him to his feet, grunting and straining.

“Thank you,” Scott said leaning his head on her shoulder.

“That’s twice,” Kendra said pressing her cheek to his head.

“Let’s hope it’s the last time,” he said.

“Where are they?” Kendra asked.

“Who?”

“The Handler’s backup. He said they had us surrounded. He made them sound like the second coming of General Santa Anna’s men.” She quickly darted her head back and forth.

“There’s something you have to learn about henchmen. They’re cowards. They have no backbones. Kill the head and the body dies along with it.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“But just in case I’m wrong. Don’t lose the shotgun, sweetie.”

The wind was picking up, blowing the smoke from the Handler’s smoldering carcass into their faces. Is somebody cooking beans, Scott thought.

Kendra led Scott over to where Eddie lay. Scott let go of Kendra’s arm and half-knelt, half-fell into the dirt beside him. He placed his hand on the old gold dog’s side and gently smoothed back some of the matted fur. He laid his head on Eddie’s chest. “Good old Eddie,” he said.

“Yeah. He was a good old dog.”

“Still is…”

“He’s alive?” Kendra asked with a look of mingled incomprehension and happiness.

“He’s breathing. It’s very low. But it’s there.”

“We’ve got to take him to Dr. Culling. I’ll get the car.”

Kendra ran for the house. Scott placed his hands under Eddie’s frame and lifted him into his arms.

Kendra came back out of the house with the keys in one hand and Christine hanging onto the other. She opened the passenger’s side door and Christine hopped into the backseat. Kendra jumped into the driver’s seat and started the ignition. She backed up, tires spewing dirt, and rolled to a stop with the passenger’s side door open.

Scott grimaced as he placed the combined weight of Eddie and himself on his left leg. He dropped into the passenger’s seat. Kendra leaned over and shut the door. She quickly put the car in first gear and sped down the gravel driveway.

“Is Eddie going to be okay?” Christine asked from the backseat.

“He’s hurting, honey. But he’s still here,” Kendra said.

“I know the feeling,” Scott said with half a smile.

They came to the end of the driveway and Kendra barely slowed as she took the right turn onto the main road. “Seat belts, seat belts,” Kendra said looking in the rearview mirror at Christine.

“He’s gotta be okay. He’s just gotta,” Christine said. Fresh tears were falling from her eyes.

With Eddie on his lap, Scott could feel the low lub-dub of the old dog’s heart through his jeans. As Christine snuffling grew louder, so too did Eddie’s heart beat. Eddie very slowly lifted his head from Scott’s knees.

The Mustang sped down Route 17 chased by the setting sun. Over the roar of the wind and the pulsation of the motor, an old dog’s bark could be heard.