Absolution River (7 page)

He pointed to a part of the scar only partly visible as it ran up the left side of his cheek almost to his eye past where his beard was.

“I grabbed that man’s arm and broke it. He didn’t give me a choice. The other two seemed shocked at what happened. I grabbed another one of them and threw him on the ground. The one that remained standing, I put him into a chokehold and I could hear and feel his neck break. As he went to the ground I urged them to stop, I didn’t want to hurt anyone. The man on the ground continued to get up as I pleaded with him to stay down. There was cursing and crying from them both, mainly the one with the broken arm. The uninjured man came at me and I moved out of the way and he ran himself into the metal door that was behind me. He knocked himself out cold. The man with the broken arm kept trying to punch me with his good arm and I threw him onto the ground and punched him three or four times until he stopped moving. I went over to Julia and brought her home. Next day the sheriff was at my house and arrested me. Said the guys I beat up were good friends of a congressman and that I was going to prison. Trial lasted a few days. Put me away for eight years. You ask me if I’m a good man. I think I was, not so sure now. One of the men is paralyzed, the other has nerve damage in his arm and won’t ever use it again. Then there is Julia, she is safe now, but while I was away she was beaten within an inch of her life and child protective services came and took her children away. Is there anything that I did that caused good in the end?”

“My wife and children were murdered in our home, this is many years ago now, you see, but I couldn’t do anything about it. Just came home one day and there they were. Held my little girl in my arms and that, as they say, was that. Packed up never looked back. There was no good that I did there, just left. Didn’t even hang around to see if they found the guy, too weak back then, probably the same now. Didn’t have the nerve to return and even see. You, Jack, at least did something. You tried, and sometimes that’s all a man can do.”

Jack nodded, surprised at the man’s honesty, and took another pull from the whiskey. They sat for a while just staring at the fire and enjoying the cool summer air.

“What happened with the woman?” Eli asked.

“Couldn’t say, the next morning they came for me and that was the last I heard from the outside world for several years. Overheard some guards talking outside my cell one night, pretty late, but couldn’t really tell. One of them said something about a bitch getting what she deserved, when the guard mentioned the name Julia it sent a shock right through me. You see, I never heard about what happened to her, been in solitary almost three years by that point. The other guard asked who he was talking about, Julia Anderson he says. Didn’t know the last name but heard the name Julia and began to listen closer. Guard said she was an ex-wife to one of the congressman’s sons. He didn’t say which congressman but can’t be too many of ‘em in this state. Said he got custody of the kids for his boy, was just waiting for the opportunity. Don’t know how this guard knew or what his connections were, but that was all I needed to hear. Found out some years later Julia is in a wheelchair down at Warm Springs Institution. Don’t know how they could keep her though.”

Eli nodded and gestured for the bottle, “You gonna drink the whole thing, you drunk bastard?”

Jack grinned and passed the bottle, thankful for the brevity. It had been awhile since he drank this much and he liked the old familiar feeling. It was never something he did to excess but he needed it tonight, too many old wounds being opened.

“Off to bed, Jack.” Jack waved a hand in the air to say goodnight. “You know we all got stories to tell.” Jack remained quiet with his back to Eli now. “Don’t mean we gotta be done with makin’ new ones.” Eli turned and headed back to the cabin.

…

That morning the generator died as the two were sitting on the porch chatting about what they needed to get done for the day.

“Guess I know what we’ll be doing today,” Eli said with a sigh. “You know anything about small engines?”

“A bit, just what I learned from odd jobs.”

“This here generator is the only source a power I got, she goes down we are gonna have to work much harder to get things done around here.”

Jack walked over to check the fuel. When he opened the cap, gasoline spewed all over his shirt. He jumped back but didn’t say anything, only held his arms up with an expression of frustration. Eli laughed so hard he couldn’t help but slap his knee like one of those hillbilliess you always see on TV. With his frontier hat and animal skins he was certainly playing the part.

“Hey, uh, Jack? You know you gotta wait for it to cool down?” Eli said, still laughing but trying to hold it in. He could see Jack didn’t think it was that funny. “These old generators aren’t like them newfangled ones they got now, this here one’s from thirty years ago.”

“My only damn shirt,” Jack said, exasperated.

“Just go wash it in the creek and hang it up, sun’s up just fine, be dry in no time.”

Jack walked over to the creek and unbuttoned his shirt. When he took it off he revealed his mangled back. Eli saw it and was embarrassed to have witnessed it and turned to look busy working on the generator.

Without turning while scrubbing the shirt in the creek Jack said, “It’s from the war.”

“Don’t need to know, you ain’t want to say nothin about it.”

“No, it’s okay Eli, you’ve been a good friend to me.”

Eli leaned against the outer post of the porch and puffed on his pipe.

“Back in the war my friend and I were surrounded. A rocket destroyed the chopper sent to evacuate us. The last thing I remembered was seeing the burning wreckage and feeling the impact of the butt of a rifle on the back of my head.” Jack turned from the creek and rung out the wet shirt. Walking over to Eli he continued, “I awoke in a bamboo cage that was outside and exposed to the elements. I had no idea how long I had been there and my friend was no longer with me. I had to assume he was dead. The cage was only three feet high and I was forced to lay flat for weeks on end. The only food they gave us were the scraps from the guards of the camp. Often it was nothing but bones. Every other day or so they would take me out and sit me in a chair in a small hut and ask me questions. Usually the same things, where was your unit, what were you doing, about future troop movements, stuff like that. I kept quiet, didn’t say a thing the eight months I was there. When things got real interesting they would whip me a couple dozen times then just put me back in the cage. Eventually the camp was deserted and they just left me there. Figured I would just die, wasn’t worth their time, you know. With what strength I had left I sawed one of the bamboo stalks with a small rock I found on the ground in the cage. I could barely walk and made my way through the jungle. A week later a platoon on routine patrol found me. Spent the next year in a hospital in Saigon until everyone was evacuated.”

“God, I’m sorry Jack,” said Eli, taking heavy puffs from his pipe. He put his hat high up on his head and wiped his brow. “I can see why you ain’t much of a talker.”

“Just used to it, be amazed what you can get used to.”

Eli walked over to Jack and put his hand on his shoulder.

“You know its gonna be alright now, son. It’s over now, you know?”

Jack looked at Eli and nodded. Each hid their face, as they both understood the casualties of war were not only the dead, but also the living.

XV

Arch walked into a diner near Big Fork. The diner was your classic fifties style that are often gimmicks now, but this was one of the few genuine diners that has remained over the decades. Everything from the fake leather seating, to the uniforms the waitresses wore was exactly the same as the grand opening. Arch walked over to the man in a well-tailored blue suit and blue vest. Instead of a traditional tie, he had one of those rope ties with the big medallion to tighten the rope around the collar. His particular medallion was of a buffalo, and only if you were really close could you see a small skeleton underneath its feet. Few got that close.

“Can I get you boys something, some pie maybe, we have a great-” said Cheryl as she was taking the order. Her hair was big with large curls that seemed to remain in place by some magical powers. She was pretty, once, but considering she was in this dump since the place opened, the years had certainly taken their toll.

“Coffee, black,” the man in the suit interrupted.

“Same, some great what?”

“Pie, I was going to say pie,” Cheryl said unfazed by the short responses.

“Yeah, what the fuck kind of pie? Don’t fucking say blueberry,” Arch said in a low tone with a big smile so as not to scare the lady away. She was the harbinger of pie after all.

“Blue-” Arched turned his head with one mildly crazy eye sort of jokingly, Cheryl thought. He wasn’t joking.

“Strawberry-rhubarb,” she finally got out with a nervous smile. Arch pointed one finger in the air and Cheryl, for her sake, understood what he meant.

“So, I hear you can’t even run some old squatters off nowadays,” the man in the suit said with a grin.

“Oh, I’m sorry your royal highness,” gesturing like a commoner in royal court with arms out wide and head bowed.

“That’s congressman to you, asshole, and you’re costing me a lot of money,” said the suit man in a low tone.

“Frank, it’s under control, I’ve got my guy on it,” Arch said in a more solemn tone, understanding better than most the pecking order. Without Frank, Arch’s business would have gone under years ago, but with the congressman’s support, Arch had become very successful. Unfortunately he snorted, drank, and screwed most of the profits. The rest he gambled. This is why Frank loved him; he was effective and would always need him.

“Oh, your guy, well then, let me just kick my heals together while crossing the parking lot. Handle it, it’s one guy, the rest have folded no problem, why should he be any different?”

“We got a couple weeks before we’ll even get close to his house, plenty a time, and they always sign, everyone always signs,” Arch said with a grin.

“Alright, two cups black coffee and one strawberry-rhubarb pie,” Cheryl said with a smile. She set them down and walked away. Frank took a sip of the coffee. Arch went straight for the pie.

“Gotta go, let me know when it’s done.” Frank walked out of the diner and into the backseat of his Lincoln Towncar. The driver got in the driver’s seat and he was gone.

“Asshole,” Arch said with a sigh, like he was holding it in the entire time.

XVI

“Where you at boy!?”

Little Jack ran up to his room and hid under the bed. “Stop! Please don’t, please stop, he didn’t do nothing wrong,” his mother pleaded while grabbing the arm of her husband. The man was not deterred and he threw her down with his free hand. The other hand was white with the force of the grip fueled by his rage. In his back pocket was a near empty fifth of bourbon and that night was a lot like most nights. He walked up the stairs in his coveralls and white undershirt stained in the pits by sweat, grease all over the front from when he was working on the tractor. Jack’s mother lay on the ground crying with a fresh bruise, but it wasn’t from that day but the day prior; as this was a common occasion. Mom cried, Dad hit, Jack ran. Under the bed Jack was in tears but had to remain so still. The footsteps pounded up the stairs with the sound of the bourbon in the bottle sloshing.

“I said where you at, don’t make me come looking!” Jack tried to make himself into a tiny ball so that no one could see him. He simply wanted to disappear into nothingness and imagine himself a monster. A monster that could be so big and strong that he would be able to finally fight his father and protect his mother. The bed was ripped up with a great force and lying there was little Jack in the tiniest ball with his eyes clenched and arms wrapped around his knees. He could hear the belt leather grind as it was tightened around his father’s hand and then the
whack
of the belt striking him on the sides and back. Over and over again little Jack felt the sting of the leather on his fragile little boy skin. The belt opened old wounds and started new ones. But little Jack did not utter a sound. He had learned over the years, and even just in his seven years, that pain was external and could be controlled. Wielded into something that he could use later. Every strike was a chance for him to gain that power and store it until a time that he deemed necessary. And with the last
whack
Jack awoke into the empty cabin. He opened his eyes and remembered where he was. The sun shined in through the window at the rear of the cabin and some of the light landed onto his feet. The light came in beams, with the dust from the cabin moving in it like live organisms. Jack sat up and the sun was on his chest. He put his arm out to watch the light hit his skin and make it an extraordinary white. Eli came bursting in with a huge smile on his face, revealing the several missing teeth.

“Get up you son of a bitch, got a surprise for ya! Come on!”

Jack got his clothes on and followed Eli out of the cabin. He had never seen a man that old move so fast, kind of shuffling across the grass and dirt then through the trees. He could hear the river rushing and getting louder the closer that they got. Once they made it through the clearing, Jack saw what he had only seen in his dreams; the beauty and majesty of the river with trout dancing three feet in the air. A smile spread across Jack’s face without him even knowing it, stretching those muscles for the first time in decades. Eli noticed the smile before Jack did. “See, told ya, surprise!” Jack tried to get a hold of his smile to hold back but he simply could not, as the river raged so did his heart. The rapids bursting through dams of pain and misery, destroying vestiges of hatred and sorrow that had burrowed within him all of these years. He had seen this phenomenon before but at this time in this moment it became something else, a release, a beginning of something that could be salvaged within him.

“Don’t just stand there! Grab this!” Eli handed him a net and he walked into the river about knee deep and began to try and catch the trout as they came flying at him. He had a basket on his side to put the fish he caught and he began to grab two or three at a time. Jack moved over to the water with caution at first but then let himself be free in the moment. He began to laugh. They both laughed heartily as if they were the only men left on the planet free to roam and conquer the world. Masters of their universe and for the first time feeling as freemen often do upon the unshackling of their hearts. Their spirits rekindled by each other’s company and in the magic of the moment. The basket was full of two-dozen trout and was hemorrhaging the most beautiful fish Montana had to offer. They began to walk back and Jack lost his footing for a moment. In those rapids a moment was all it would take.

“Gotcha,” as Eli thrust his hand out and grabbed Jack’s hand.

“I know,” Jack replied with a smile. They looked at each other and found a bond there that neither had for as long as they could remember. They got to the shore and sat there, out of breath. Neither said a word and both with massive grins on their faces. Eli and Jack walked back to the cabin as the sun was beginning to come down. That night they made a great fire and roasted all the fish they could eat. The whiskey bottle was empty and each with a full belly laughed through the night about the happiest times of their lives. They were the lords of all creation, even the fish danced for them.

…

Arch left a dollar in loose change on the table. Attempting to move his large frame out of the booth and finally making it to his feet, he gave a wink to Cheryl on his way out. She half-heartily waved and shook her head. Arch left out the main entrance of the diner. He walked over to the pay telephone covered in graffiti just a few feet outside. The quarter dropped into the slot and he dialed from memory. Someone answered, heavy breathing on the other end.

“Do it, now,” said Arch as he hung up.

The sun was just falling behind the mountains and the light cast eerie shadows across the highway. Arch took a soft pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and his lighter. He tapped the bottom, pulled out a Camel, placed it in his mouth, and lit it. He put the pack away and with a metallic clang closed the cap of the zippo. A long inhale and a long exhale heavy with the cigarette’s smoke, and he whistled the hundred feet to his truck.