The Paladin (19 page)

"Like I said, Brenda, I think I'm coming down with a cold," he said, noisily clearing his throat.

"And what about Sara? All hell has broken loose and you haven't one time even mentioned her."

"Sara? Little Sara Cole?"

"If you mean your eighty-year-old cousin, Sara Johnson, yes."

"Sara is still alive?" he asked softly. "Drive woman! We have to get to her now!"

***

Silas nearly knocked Maggie down as he burst from the truck and ran up the steps of his former home. While many of the newer houses were demolished, the historic district with its older, better-constructed homes had weathered the storm with only minor damage.

"Sara! Sara!" he called.

He flung open the front door and came face to face with the frail woman.

"Zack, I ought to take a switch to you!" she said. "You had me and Brenda worried sick. If you ever pull a stunt like that again I'll tan your hide!"

Sara did not get to finish her scolding as Zack swept her off her feet and nearly crushed her in his embrace.

"What's got into you, boy?" she said."Put me down!"

"Oh God, I've missed you, Turtle," he whispered.

Sara froze.

"What did you say?"

Silas pulled back, his eyes full of tears, "I missed you, Turtle."

Sara looked into his blue eyes and the room began to spin. The eyes were not those of Zack, and even after seventy years, she knew well to whom they belonged.

"It can't be…it just can't be. I need to sit down."

Silas placed her gently into an oversized chair and knelt beside her.

"I haven't been called Turtle since I was a little girl and even then, only Silas called me that."

"It was at a church picnic. You were playing in Turkey Creek and that box turtle latched onto your toe. You were dancing and yelling enough to wake the dead. I never laughed so hard in my life."

Sara looked deeply into those loving eyes. "It's you, isn't it, Uncle Silas?"

"'Fraid so darling. Old Uncle Silas has come home."

"How is this possible? Where is Zack?"

He quickly put a finger to his lips as the door opened and Brenda and Maggie burst in.

"Play along and pretend I am Zack. I'll explain everything, I promise," he whispered.

"Sara, are you alright?" asked Brenda.

"I…I'm just fine, girl. A little wind never scared me. And who's this?"

"Sara Cole, this is Maggie Black," said Silas.

"Johnson," said Brenda. "Her name is Sara Johnson."

"Yeah, that's right, Johnson," said Silas. "Sara Johnson."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Johnson," Maggie said. "You have a beautiful home."

Sara came up to the tall young woman and took her hand.

"Why thank you, Maggie, and call me Sara. Please, everybody sit down."

"Maggie can't stay," said Brenda. "She just stopped by to say hello. OK, Maggie you have said your hello, now beat it."

"Nonsense," said Silas."Brenda, stop being rude to our guest."

"Well, Zack, lying out all night with two pretty girls, you must be hungry. Let me fix y’all something to eat."

"Sara, the power is still out," said Brenda.

"Honey, I was born before they invented fire," Sara said with a wink. "Besides, I have a gas grill."

"Brenda, why don't you help Sara fix some vittles; I need to talk to Maggie for a bit."

"Seriously, vittles? OK, but keep an eye on her, Zack. There is something fishy going on."

***

John Beck, Dana Kirby, and Harold White sat at the breakfast table in the kitchen of the Beck home.

Beck, being of such advanced age and suffering from a myriad of afflictions, normally endured a bland, tasteless, but highly nutritional diet, which in itself was a fate worse than death. Today, he dined on link sausage, country ham, biscuits, and gravy.

Harold and Dana supped toast and coffee, watching in amazement as Beck wolfed down his food.

"I got ten bucks that says you have a heart attack before you leave the table," said Harold.

Beck laughed and wiped gravy from his chin.

"No heart attacks today, Mr. White. Not today or ever."

"I must admit, I've never seen you look more vital," said Harold.

"Just the beginning," Beck said waving his fork. "I'll wager I will be out of this accursed wheelchair by the end of the day."

"Isn't your wife joining us today?" asked Dana.

"My Celeste doesn’t partake in…traditional foods. Her tastes run more to the exotic."

"Sir, about last night…Jan and Stacy—"

"Mr. White, let's not dwell on the unpleasant circumstances of the previous evening. They were two unfortunate individuals whose lives would have been a tragic waste of drug-induced misery. Their deaths served a much more noble purpose than their lives ever did."

"Yes, sir," Harold said.

Dana and Harold froze. Framed in the kitchen door was Celeste Beck.

"Celeste, my love, please join us," said Beck." I would like you to meet two of my most valued colleagues."

"Yes, last night was a bit trying," said Celeste. "We did not have time for proper introductions."

Harold rose to his feet and pulled a chair out for her.

"I am glad to see that there are still gentlemen in this day and time. John, dear, what year is it exactly?"

"2009, my love."

"Sixty-nine years," she said softly.

"Yes, all because of that damn Silas Cole!" said Beck. "Mr. White, the only survivor of that clan, now that Zack is gone, is Sara Johnson. Make sure that before the day is out, she is reunited with Silas and Zack."

"Sir," said Harold. "She is a harmless old woman. I don't see why—"

"I said kill her! Do you understand me?"

"Sara Johnson?" asked Celeste.

"Sara was ten at the time you were taken, my love."

"Silas's niece?" asked Celeste. "I remember her well. She was Silas's favorite. He thought of her like a daughter."

"All the more reason to kill her," said Beck.

"No. You will not touch as much as a hair on her head, my love."

"What?" exclaimed Beck, not used to his orders being questioned.

"You heard me," she said. "I have no love for the Coles, but I want to move on and I don't have time for a ridiculous grudge against an old, dried up woman."

"Very well," said Beck. "Mr. White, none of our people are to molest Mrs. Jonson in the slightest way."

"Yes, sir," Harold said taking a sip of coffee.

"My love, you seem different," said Beck. "I suppose it was the ordeal of your imprisonment."

"Yes, I suppose. John, what has happened in the world since my incarceration?"

"Mrs. Beck," said Dana, "I have prepared a few DVDs that will get you up to speed on world events."

"DVDs?" asked Celeste. "Is that a book?"

John laughed.

"Celeste, like Rip Van Winkle, you have fallen asleep and awakened into an age of miracles."

"Well then, Miss Kirby, show me what I have missed while I was gone."

***

Maggie sipped her orange juice and glanced around the breakfast table pondering the sudden turn of events. Yesterday she was trying her level best to murder Zack, now they were comrades in arms…well sort of. It was his body at least.

While Maggie was glad not to have had to kill an innocent man, things had indeed gone from bad to worse. The creature was now free and Bryson City looked like God had stepped on it.

And then there was Brenda. Growing up as a tomboy, Harry got along great with the boys, that is, if they wanted a shortstop or left tackle. It was the girls she had real trouble with. Especially the
pretty
girls. Armed with callous, ego-crushing remarks they enjoyed making Harry's life hell. There were wounds that never healed, and even though physically Harry Smith was gone, her painful memories still survived. Brenda Mills, much to Maggie's consternation, was the quintessential
pretty
girl.

Brenda didn't touch her breakfast, but sat back in her chair, arms crossed watching Silas and Sara through narrowed eyes. She knew that something was off. The Zack sitting across from her wasn't the same man she had dropped off at the park the night before.

Maggie watched intently as Silas smiled at Sara and squeezed her hand.
You know, old Silas seems to be a great guy for the spook that is. Not to mention he is gorgeous. I wouldn't mind if he would hold my hand or hold me in his arms…
Maggie looked down as her face turned crimson from her stray thoughts. Sometimes her loneliness was too much to bear.

"That was a fine breakfast, Sara," said Silas leaning back in his chair.

"Yes, Mrs. Johnson, it was delicious," said Maggie. "Thank you."

"It's good to cook again for people who appreciate it," Sara said. "Zack, I have something for you."

Sara handed Silas a folded pouch.

"While the grill was heating, I went next door and borrowed that for you," she said.

Silas's eyes lit up.

"Where's my bulldog?"

With a smile, she produced the ornate pipe and a box of matches.

Silas cleaned and carefully packed the bowl while Maggie and Brenda looked on. With a wide grin, Silas struck the match and lit the bowl. Closing his eyes he exclaimed, "Heaven, simply heaven."

"I have never known anyone with more of a disgust for smoking than you, Zack Cole,"  Brenda stated. "Now, not only do you apparently smoke, you are smoking a pipe that has been stuck in a chimney cleanout for sixty years."

"Not so bad," said Maggie. "Sure smells good."

"You look stupid," said Brenda. "Nobody under a hundred smokes a pipe, for crying out loud! Not unless it was full of crack."

"Brenda, that is a terrible thing to say," said Sara.

A slight smile creased her face as an idea flashed across her mind.

"So, Zack, Daddy has been wanting to know when you two can go fishing. You know he thinks of you as the son he never had."

Silas looked at Brenda and smiled.

"You father is a fine man and I think the world of him, too," he said.

Sara cringed as Silas fell into Brenda's trap.

"Aha!" cried Brenda. "You hate the ground my daddy walks on! Something has happened to you, Zack. It's like you're a completely different person! Your voice has definitely changed, and don't hand me that crap about having a cold! You smoke a pipe for God's sake! You don't even know what a cell phone is! Now what the hell is going on?"

"Might as well tell her, uncle," said Sara.

"Uncle?" asked Brenda.

"I suppose you are right," Silas said as he put down his pipe. "Brenda, when Zack found the Collamarr, Beck's men were waiting. They shot Zack and took the vessel, whereupon they released the creature and me."

"Shot Zack? But what about you—"

"Like I said, I was released with the creature from the Collamarr. You are right, I am not Zack; I merely inhabit his body."

"But who—"

"I am Silas Cole, Zack's great grandfather."

"The Butcher of Bryson City," Brenda said softly.

"Is that what they call me?"

"I am afraid so, uncle," said Sara."

"This is crazy! Don't tell me that you believe this, Sara?" asked Brenda.

"Yes," she said. "I don't pretend to know how, but no doubt about it, this isn't Zack; it is my Uncle Silas."

"Your eyes…they aren’t brown anymore…they are blue!" gasped Brenda,

"Welcome to my world, Blondie," said Maggie, sipping her coffee.

"What about Zack?" asked Sara, "does this mean he is dead?"

"Merely dormant," said Silas. "When I move on, you will have my great grandson back."

"Maggie, what is your part in all this?" asked Brenda.

"I work for a guy who has a keen interest in keeping Mrs. Beck locked up. You and your boyfriend put the kibosh on that. Now it is up to Silas and me to shove her ass back in."

"Yes, Brenda, we are a team, just like the Lone Ranger and Tonto," said Silas. "Isn't that right, Tonto?"

"Whoa now, Ghost Boy!" spat Maggie. "You are here to help
me
, remember?"

"Then it's settled, Tonto," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Then what does that make me?" asked Brenda.

"A pest," said Maggie. "Now about this Tonto shit—"

"First things first," said Silas. "Turtle, pack a bag. You can't stay here, it isn't safe. Maggie, darling, would you use my fancy truck and take Brenda home for me? We have work to do."

"Sure," she said. "May take a while, the roads are a disaster."

"Take your time; I need to catch up with Sara. Now, be a good girl, Brenda, and go home."

Brenda crossed her arms and made no move to leave her chair.

"I am helping," said Brenda, "so get used to the idea."

"Did you say…creature?" asked Sara, catching up to the conversation.

"Oh, it's nothing, Turtle," said Silas. "Maggie and I will take care of that."

"Not without me," said Brenda. "This mess is all my fault. I knew about the creature and I sent you—Zack—anyway. I'm going to see it through."

"Look here, little girl," Maggie said. "Like the man said, we will deal with it, now let's go."

"Make me."

"OK, you asked for it," Maggie said, rising from her chair.

"Stand down, Tonto," said Silas.

"Yeah, go away,
Ton-to
," said Brenda.

"Next person who calls me Tonto gets an ass whipping!"

"All right, Brenda, you can help," said Silas. "But first, go home and check on your family. After that dreadful storm they must be worried sick about you."

"OK, but I will be back," said Brenda. "Let's go, Ton—"

"Say it and die, Blondie," said Maggie, as she lifted her shirt, exposing her gun.

23

John Beck moaned with pain worse than he had ever known…even worse than the night Silas Cole shot him. Celeste held his worn out body gently as she forced her meager life force into the elderly man. It pained her to see her longtime companion and deliverer suffer so, but he was at the brink of death and his rejuvenation came at a cost.

"I've had enough for now," he whispered. "I don't want you to become drained."