The Lovely Chocolate Mob (19 page)

“I’m glad I did it!” I yelled, again.

That felt better. The only good thing about being down there was that it wasn’t winter, and I wasn’t freezing my tail off. I was in a cramped space, but at least I wasn’t shivering. I could be thankful for that. “Thank you, Lord,” I said. “Now please get me out of here.”

I had gone through all the thinking I could do on my own, and decided to ask for wisdom, since I was on my knees, anyway. “I’m sorry, Lord,” I started. “Please give me guidance. I deserve this. I know I’ve earned it. We scared Franklin and stole money and stuck our noses in other people’s business. Maybe. I led the group; the fault is all mine. Please don’t punish Walter and David; I talked them into it. You’re good. Thank you for being good. Help me to be good.”

“Ow! Sh**!!” My palm found a pebble. I remembered I was in the middle of a prayer. “Sorry, Lord. I know I cuss too much. I’m working on that. But this is like a sewer down here and I was probably thinking on that.” I had no business cussing around the Almighty, although He knows I have a quick temper at times. That’s no excuse, just an explanation.

The mind switched gears quickly while placed under duress. “Lord, why did Helen leave me? I tried to be good to her. Since you’re sovereign, I guess you knew what you were doing when you let her leave me. I guess you were making me into something besides a husband. But why did it have to hurt so much? Lord, sometimes I think it would be nice to have been married, but you know what you’re doing. On the other hand, I do have a quiet and peaceful life. It is a bit lonely at times, though. Maybe I should get out more, be involved more. That may be how I got down here. Thank you, Lord. Your will be done.”

Well, I felt as though I were at peace, for a little while anyway. I liked being at peace; it sure beat being worried, scared, or wanting something unnecessary, which happened to me often, probably more often than I’d like to admit.

I was getting sick of crawling, and decided to go up the next manhole I saw; I thought I had gone far enough. Hopefully there weren’t too many policemen around when they arrested Walter. I know he wouldn’t talk; he’d keep his mouth shut; he’s not one to crack under pressure. I’ll have to find a good lawyer for him. I’m sure there are a few who went to school with us; one of them will remember Walter. We’ve all done favors for each other during our days away from school; maybe they’ll help out pro-bono for old time’s sake. Maybe he won’t have to spend all his life in the big house.

Murder! He’d be charged with murder! Oh, this would be all over the television, with the whole nation watching. The general population wouldn’t take kindly to shooting an FBI helicopter out of the sky; neither would any federal judge.

I could feel fresh air and decided I was near an opening. Using the cell phone, I looked down the tunnel and could see that it opened into a small area, probably near a street curb drain. I put the phone back on my belt, not wanting anybody spotting a green light coming up out of a storm drain if they happened to be wandering around this time of night; people really ought to be home in bed; that’s what homes were for. So what was I doing down there?

At the tunnel’s end, there was enough room to stand up. I had to take my time doing that, though, since my joints weren’t as flexible as they used to be. It took a little time to get my feet under me to manage myself, to reach the manhole cover directly above. I put my ear as close to the little keyhole as possible and listened. There wasn’t any traffic noise; that was good. It was late, or early, and maybe I wouldn’t cause a wreck. Hopefully this manhole was part of the sidewalk and not on the street. If that was the case, there ought to be a drain nearby, but I didn’t see an opening, even though I felt and smelled the fresh air. I decided to risk using my cell phone light, hoping there would be nobody outside to see it. I opened the cell phone, and the little room turned from pitch black to bright green, and fortunately, there was a drain opening right next to me, so this manhole cover ought to be next to the sidewalk, and not in the middle of traffic, somewhere. It’s a good thing I had a little knowledge of drain systems, and even though I designed them, I didn’t get to see them from the inside very often.

I stood and pushed the heavy lid up. It was stuck; eventually I gave up and lay down on the little floor area. Maybe I should have just gone to sleep there, which would have been easy to do. I might have, but the thought of some creature coming along and taking a bite out of me would keep me from sleeping. I got back up and pushed again, until I felt the cover give. I rested for a minute before starting to push a third time; I didn’t want to throw my back out. I couldn’t have that, not while down in a drain. The thought of being hurt and stuck in a drain was frightening; I’d have to call for help, and if help did arrive I’d have to explain what I was doing in a drain. Maybe I could say I was doing research for my job, but that would be stretching it a bit. I pushed the lid, and it gave way.

It was a little bit lighter outside than in the drain. Once I got my head above the lid level, I could see a sidewalk, and there was no movement in the area, at least not from my side; nobody was walking around in front, and I didn’t hear anything from behind. At least there wouldn’t be any talk or reports about a strange man who came up out of a drain after midnight.

I gave it one last heave, and the lid opened wide enough for me to escape. I slowly climbed out of the hole, then slowly lowered the lid back into place, taking care so there would be no clanging sound. I thought about leaving fingerprints on this manhole cover, but at the moment was too tired to do anything about them.

Looking around to see my location, I sat down to put my socks and shoes back on, not wanting to attract attention on the way home. I searched the sky for the North Star, trying to figure out which direction to start walking in order to get home; it was cloudy. We were still south of my house when the helicopter spotted us; I’m sure I had crawled over a mile, but because of a few turns in the drain I may have gone east or west, or even back in the direction I had started from. Thinking on this, north was still my destination, and I started walking, looking for street signs on each corner; maybe I could at least figure out which neighborhood I was in.

Fatigue was setting in, but if all my estimations were right, at least I wouldn’t have to walk too far. I came up to a readable street sign, and got my bearings. Good thing I knew this town like the back of my hand; I had played on many of these streets as a child, having classmates in different sections of the city. Janet Field, the neighborhood baseball field, was near; it had been named after a little cheerleader who passed away from cancer. Maybe I could find a working water faucet and wash up a bit. All parks were closed at night; gates to the roads leading in were shut and locked to traffic, but since I was on foot, that wouldn’t be a hindrance.

I walked in the direction of the park and thought about what I had just done. I’d emerged from the belly of the beast, like Jonah from the big fish, although I hadn’t been down there for three days, thank goodness. If I had, I probably wouldn’t have had the energy to push the lid up, or to even crawl to an easier exit point. I wondered if Jonah had survived on seaweed. The only thing I saw growing in the drain was mushrooms, and I didn’t know enough about them to know if they were safe to eat. I should be grateful I got out when I did, or else they might have started looking good to me.

Arriving at Janet Field, I found a working faucet and washed up the best I could; I drank and drank until I couldn’t hold anymore. Who would have thought warm water could taste so good? I ran water over my shoes and the lower parts of my blue jeans; they were wet already, but I would rather be wet with clean water than stagnate drain water.

Home and bed were the destination now. I headed to the north side of the park and walked down Finley Street. Good thing there was no traffic; I’d look like a wandering vagrant, and in the age of cell phones someone could call the cops on me. I could just see myself answering questions to a policeman. Who am I? Where do I live? What am I doing out in the middle of the night? Why do I smell like a wet rat? Were you part of the FBI murders? Don’t I have better things to be doing than being out for a walk in the middle of the night? I hoped I would be able to answer questions without making a policeman mad. I’m sure I looked like a criminal.

It was quiet for a short while, then a backyard dog noticed me and started barking. This in turn got all the dogs in the neighborhood stirred up, and I was greeted by barking, fenced-in dogs as I moved down the street. You could gauge the sizes of the dogs by their barks: the deeper the growl, the bigger the dog. Some were louder than others; thank goodness for leash laws. A pet was supposed to be under control by its owner, but I’ve seen times when that wasn’t always the case. My front yard seemed to be a favorite visiting spot for loose dogs. At least, I hoped they were loose. I didn’t like to think neighbors who walked their dogs would intentionally stop at my yard for pets to do their thing.

Ignoring the barks, I kept walking; I had picked up the stride a bit and soon would be home. It would be daylight in a few hours; perhaps I could get a little sleep. There would be no way I could go to work; I’d have to call in sick to get some shut-eye. I’d catch up on any projects by working late, tomorrow, or even later today.

There was my house, but a light was on in the kitchen. Perhaps I had left it on before walking off to be picked up by Walter. Perhaps Walter had talked to the police, and they were waiting to arrest me? No, Walter wouldn’t crack so soon. I must have left it on.

I waited outside for a number of minutes before deciding to go on in. If it were the FBI, then they’d found me; there’s no place else I could run. If I forgot and left the light on, I’d have to improve at that. The good part was, at least I had a night-light.

Taking out the keys, I opened the front door. Walking in, I saw that the television light was on; I knew I hadn’t left that running. I didn’t watch TV today; what was going on?

Walking further in the house, I saw Walter, lying down on my couch with a blanket pulled up over him. He looked up at me and said, “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting here for hours!”

I didn’t say anything, being stupefied.

He continued, “Ate some of your Texas Chili; hope you don’t mind.”

I finally came to myself. “What are you doing here?”

Now Walter was the one with the surprised look. “What do you mean, what am I doing here?” he asked. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“How did you get away?”

“I got in my RV, started ‘er up and drove, and I came straight here. I’ll need a place to stay for a little while; hope I don’t get in your way.”

“You won’t be in my w-----“, I said, then stopped to get to the point. “What happened to the helicopter? Didn’t you shoot it out of the sky?”

“The helicopter? Oh, that! Well, yes, I guess I did.”

“You killed the pilot? The police? The FBI? How many people were killed?”

“I didn’t kill anybody; what are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about?” I asked in disbelief. “I saw you point a bazooka toward a helicopter!” Now I was getting close to hysterical.

“Bazooka? What bazooka? That wasn’t a bazooka! Those things are dangerous! You could kill somebody with those!”

“Well, what
were
you pointing at it?” I demanded.

“That was a modified electronic-pulse scrambler, powered with 10 “D” alkaline batteries!”

“It was a bazooka!” I insisted.

“I said modified! It
used to be
a bazooka, but not anymore!” said Walter, amazed that I didn’t get it. “Sheesh, you think I wanna kill someone? Killing is bad!”

I sat down and then realized what had happened and put my head in my hands. So this is how Miss Planter felt.

“You thought I shot a helicopter out of the sky? Oh, ye of little faith! How could you ever think that about me?”

“I crawled a mile underground to come home to find you watching TV on my couch,” I explained without looking up. “I thought you had killed federal agents and were in jail.”

“No,” explained Walter. “Let me tell you what I did. I aimed my pulse-gun at the helicopter, and it locked in on the exact radio frequency being used by the helicopter. All these new helicopters are digital now, and a digital design flaw is all it takes to give me an entrance into the cockpit dashboard. I had my gun pre-set for ‘gas gauge,’ so when I pulled the trigger, it shut off power to the gas light. When the gas light goes “off,” the computer on board reads it as “empty,” since it’s essentially the same thing. The alarm automatically went off, alerting the pilot he’s fresh out of gas and had better land quickly, which is just exactly what he did. He lit out of there looking for a clear place with no trees or telephone lines, pronto! Then I came here.”

“You’re saying that nobody got killed? No explosion, no crashes?”

“That’s what I’m saying! Neat, huh?”

“Where did they go?”

“I don’t know; the last I saw of them they were headed south, and quick, too!”

I let this soak in. “Nobody died,” I said.

“Nope, not a one.”

“You’re not a killer.”

“Randall, I may be a lot of things, but I haven’t killed anybody, at least not yet. Killing is where I draw the line.”

“And you just drove away? What about the police back-up? Weren’t there any cars and sirens?”

“I heard sirens, but I didn’t wait around to meet them; I got the heck out of there!”

“Oh, my goodness,” I said. “I’m so tired.”

“I think it would do you some good to take a shower and go to bed. You stink.”

“I think I’ll do just that. But let me call in sick first; I’ll just leave a message on the machine at work.”

That day I slept and didn’t get up until the second morning; I don’t recover as quickly as I used to, not after great physical exertion. I was up early the second day and read two days’ worth of newspapers and drank coffee and watched the sun rise on the back porch. Walter didn’t disturb me the whole time. I guess he stayed out in his RV. He’d parked it next to my house, away from the driveway and under the pine trees and the one pecan tree on the lot, which provided cover from above. I’m glad he left my driveway clear for me; that was thoughtful of him. It was late springtime, and there were plenty of leaves, so he probably wouldn’t be spotted from the sky. Maybe the neighbors thought I had bought a new RV, or else that I had visitors. It’s a good thing there was no house on the lots on both sides of mine; one house burned down years ago, and the other had been deserted and just got old, so the city bulldozed it before it became a drug haven. I enjoyed the extra space, and mowed all the lots myself, since I had a riding lawn mower.