Reckoning Page 2

  “Wait, Mike. I just have to get this out before you leave,” she said with a little bit of laborious breathing.

  “I’m listening,” I said coolly. I’d been waiting for two weeks for her to say something. I wasn’t about to now let her know that my heart was somewhere in my throat, and jumping around like a frog on crack.

  “I know I’ve been distant to you. I know that everything you did out there was for us. I-I’m just having a difficult time handling the images of what you did up there with the person I fell in love with.”

  “Do you think it was easy for me? Killing those men?”

  “No, no! I’m not saying that!”

  “Would you rather it were me on the wrong end of one of those swords?”

  “No, God, no!” She screamed. “You’re not being fair.”

  “Beth, what the fuck is fair? Certainly nothing that happened up there.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “I did what I had to. To get us out of there, I did what I had to.” My voice level dropped in half. I had no desire to yell at her. “I am going to keep doing what I have to do.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked as she looked at me with pleading eyes.

  “The general asked me to join the Marines, and I am going to.” It was that simple and easy. I was well aware that I had to continue the fight; the day was far from won, and I would do what I had to.

  “How could you? How can you? Haven’t you seen enough death for a thousand life times?” Disgust crossed her face.

  “Beth, they’re coming.” I pointed skyward. “They’re coming whether we want them to or not. And now it’s time for me to pay them back for all the kindness that they bestowed upon us.”

  “You’re not the man that I fell in love with.”

  “No, I’m not. How could I be? I don’t know what you went through up there, but I can guarantee it wasn’t anything like what I went through. I was forced to kill other human beings for the entertainment of aliens. Do you know what that did to my moral conscience? Not only was I being torn up physically in those bouts but also spiritually. Do you know how many times I almost laid down my arms so that I could just have it end?”

  “Then why didn’t you?” she shot back.

  “Because of you!!” I yelled. She stepped back from the sheer force of my voice. “When it all comes down to it, I did it for you, Beth.” She was crying; I was crying; it was not a pretty sight. Half the base was watching. Some Marine I’d make.

  “I still love you, Mike, but I’m going to need some time, to get over all of this.”

  “I understand. Are you going back home or are you going back to school? “ I asked.

  “I’m going home now; if I do go back to school, it won’t be in Colorado.”

  That hurt for me, was the first time I truly felt that nothing was ever going to be the same. No more wake and bakes with Saturday morning wrestling, no more parties on the quad, no more concerts at Red Rocks. Life had forever been altered and, at age twenty-two, I felt cheated--cheated out of those things that were rightfully mine.

  “I’ll give you all the time you’re going to need. If and when you can forgive me, I’ll be waiting for you. But if we do start over, I want you to know what happened on that ship.” Now it was her turn to look hurt. “When I thought that I wasn’t going to make it, I sought comfort in the arms of another.” She did not seem nearly as surprised as I anticipated. Hurt, but not surprised.

  “Debbie, right?” she guessed as she looked down at her shoes.

  “How?”

  “I see the way she looks at you, when you’re not looking. I see the pain in her eyes. I see the way she eyes me when she thinks I’m not looking. That what-does-she-have-that-I-don’t-have? look. I can’t blame you, with the hell you were put through. That’s not what has me at odds, though, Mike.” She spoke tenderly, and caressed my face with both of her hands. “It was the brutality you unleashed, the savagery in your eyes. They are indelibly burned into my brain. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at you without bringing up those images. It’s as if there is a devil living inside of you. Most of the time, you have control of him, but on those occasions when he breaks free, he wreaks havoc on everyone around you.”

  “That’s not fair, Beth.” I pleaded.

  “No, it’s not; like you said, nothing that happened to us up there was fair. I just need some time, Mike. I need some time to reflect on all that has happened to me, to you and ultimately to us. I wish I could say that everything was going to turn out alright, but I just don’t know.” She moved in closer and gave me a hug, the likes of which I never wanted to be released from. A tidal wave of emotion flooded through our bodies. Had we not been in a public place, we may have taken great strides in improving our strained relationship. The hug ended, oh, so shortly. She got up on her tiptoes and kissed my lips. I flushed, it was the most intimate kiss I had received since leaving this planet.

  “Goodbye, Mike,” she said as she pulled away. That goodbye sounded so final, I didn’t know how to respond. I wasn’t prepared for it. I would much rather have been facing an enemy in the ring, at least there I knew where I stood. This was horrible; it was an unseen wound, but it struck deeper than anything I had encountered thus far. I thought my heart would rip in two. My head felt like I was burning a fever and I couldn’t think straight. Do I run after her? Do I stand here like a fool? Do I get in my car and drive?

  “Beth?” She turned. “Goodbye.” A small smile flitted across her face replaced by deep sorrow. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but I thought that she had already made up her mind. I cried for the first two hours of my drive. Luckily, not many people live that far north in Maine, because I’m sure that I was all over the road.

  I finally came to grips with the levity of my situation and the last hour went a lot smoother, especially after I found a liquor store. I was halfway through my third beer when I started down the turn-off to my father’s cabin. I had the windows down on the Hummer; the crisp winter air was invigorating. The only sound I heard was that of the crunching ice under my tires. I slowed to a crawl when I entered my dad’s driveway. Off to my right was Mann’s pond, completely frozen solid at this time of year. I noticed one solitary figure gliding along. I couldn’t be sure from the distance, but in this remote of a location, at this time of year, it could only be one person.

  My father stopped his precision glide to look over the pond at the vehicle intruding on his land. I’m sure the sight of any military vehicle was not welcome, especially after the runaround the family received concerning my whereabouts. He slowly skated closer to the edge of the pond, perhaps to verbally accost the intruder. At the previous stop, I had changed out of my civvies and donned the Marine Corps uniform. The general knew I would take the commission and it seemed he also knew my size perfectly. I had to admit, I cut a pretty good figure with it on. I stopped the Hummer on the driveway, my father now within thirty yards, and at the edge of the pond. I knew at this distance there would be no way he could tell who I was. Especially, since the last time I saw him, I was twenty pounds lighter with long hair and more than likely wearing an Ozzy Osbourne T-shirt.

  At one hundred and eighty-five pounds, with short hair and in an officer’s uniform, it might as well have been Halloween. I began the descent down to the banks of the pond, while my father just stood there, most likely still not recognizing me. He looked warily at me under the assumption that I would be bringing him bad news about his son. And, to be honest, he didn’t look like he could handle it. This once virile man had been reduced to a shell of his former self. The stress and loss of the past year and a half had visibly taken their toll. Now, I wondered if I had the right person. From a distance, he looked like the man I called “father,” but as I approached, I saw how reality had ravaged him. Tears were welling up in his eyes. Recognition was becoming evident on his face; but he wouldn’t let his guard down until he was completely sure. The pain of false hope would be almost too much to bear.
I was now within fifteen feet.

  “Mike?” he said, almost as a whisper, so unsure of his sight and mind. “Mike? Is that you?”

  “It’s me, Dad.” The voice sealed the deal. He might not have been able to trust his eyes, but his ears certified what his mind longed to hear. He fell to one knee, crying, his face buried in his gloves. Sobs racked his body. I ran the rest of the way.

  “Dad! It’s me!” I hugged him as hard as I could; then eased off, afraid that I might break him in two. He grabbed my arm with his. I think he had to touch me just to make sure.

  “Is that really you?” He didn’t let me answer. “Your mom…” And he started sobbing anew.

  “I know, Dad, I know. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be here for you and the family.” My sister had been watching the whole event unfold from the large picture window that overlooked the pond. She came running out of the cabin, not knowing who I was or why I was there.

  “Dad!” she screamed. “Are you alright?” I stood up and turned towards her with my father still clutching my arm, not wanting to let go. She had been running at a full sprint and suddenly stopped dead in her tracks as if she’d just seen a ghost. And who knows? Perhaps she had.

  “Mike, is that you?” She seemed more unwilling to accept my appearance than our dad. Perhaps she had already made peace with my passing. My dad had still not been able to let go of me and was more than eager to accept my return. My sister couldn’t move, she was rooted to the spot. She just shook her head back and forth.

  “It can’t be you. We buried you.” The general didn’t tell me that little nugget of information. I guess it’s kind of tough to tell someone he is dead and buried, when he’s standing right in front of you.

  “It’s me, sis.” She approached cautiously. This was, of course, Stephen King territory and who knows? Maybe I was about to change into a clown outfit and chase her up to the cabin door. But nothing like that happened. I had to physically extricate myself from my dad’s clutch as I slowly approached my sister. Her head shaking intensified. I grabbed her and laid on one of those bear hugs until she stopped shaking. My dad had come ashore, skates and all. We embraced as one huge mass of family; hell, we even walked up to the cabin that way. It would have made a funny video. Nobody dared let go, lest the dream end. None of us were quite ready to wake up just yet.

  “How? How did this happen?” My sister was speechless, which, until this moment, was something I had never encountered. Oh well, I had seen some strange things this year. Why stop now?

  “In due time, sis. But for now, I just want to sit here and soak up this moment.”

  Anxiety always made my dad cook. He must have been one anxious puppy, because we ate like kings: corn on the cob, mashed potatoes, pork roast, all topped off with pecan pie. I hadn’t eaten this well since before leaving Earth. We ate and my dad just stared at my sister and me like the Mad Hatter. My sister was happy I was home, but she knew something was amiss. “It was in my eyes,” she told me later. I wasn’t sure just how much of my story I wanted to share with my father. I didn’t know if he could take it, number one; and number two, at this point I didn’t really think he’d care. He was just happy I was home.

  I called my brother, Ron, after dinner, who first thought I was playing a practical joke, a sick practical joke. That was, of course, until I reminded him that he still owed me one hundred eighteen and one half beers from our bets on the 1982 baseball season. It was our inside joke, nobody knew the final tally except us; so by process of elimination, it had to be me.

  We talked for an hour. He wanted to know my plans because he was coming up first thing in the morning. I told him fine as long as he brought beer. After the phone call, my sister, father and I sat around the table until midnight, talking about the old times. More than once, my dad had to wipe a tear away from his eyes and he would discreetly leave to use the bathroom.

  “He didn’t take Mom’s death all that well,” my sister reflected on the obvious.

  “How long has he been like this?” I asked with concern in my voice.

  “This is one of his good days. Most of the time, I have to remind him to eat. But now that you’re back, I hope he’ll snap out of it. I come up here every other weekend just to keep tabs on him. I’ve asked him repeatedly to come live with us. But he says this place gives him peace.”

  “What about Ronny and Gary, do they come up?”

  “Every so often, Nancy comes up with the kids on the weekends that I don’t come up. Thank God for that, because I just can’t get up here anymore than I already do.”

  “Does he go back to Massachusetts at all?”

  “He goes every once in a while just to see Mom’s and your graves.” She looked at me sideways, maybe to see my response at that one. I didn’t have one for her. “He spends the night at Ron and Nancy’s and then heads back up here. I make sure those are the weekends I come up, because that’s when he’s at his worst.”

  “My wake wasn’t an open coffin was it?” I laughed as my sister punched my arm.

  “God no! I think we would have known something was wrong. Although whoever it was, I’m sure they would have been better looking.” I grabbed my sister’s head and put her in a headlock.

  “You better be nice to me,” she mumbled from underneath my grasp. “You know I can still kick your ass.” I let go and put my hands in the air, as if in compliance. “What happened Mike?”

  “How much do you want to know?” I sat back down. It seemed appropriate for the mood that was rapidly approaching.

  “All of it. The government told us there was a terrorist attack on Red Rocks and they were only able to partially identify remains, using DNA tests. They sent what we thought was your body two months after your disappearance. Obviously, it was a sealed coffin. We had a ceremony and we buried you. Although I don’t think dad ever thought you were truly gone.” She put her hands in her face as she wept. I caressed her shoulder to comfort her as best I could.

  “I’m sorry that you went through that, but I wouldn’t wish what happened to me on anyone. You might want to refill that glass of wine before I begin. I’m going to need your mind open for this little tale.” And for the next five hours, I related everything that happened to me during the past eighteen months or so.

  She killed her bottle of wine and began on my stash of beers. Ronny had better get up here early with those replacements, I thought. My sister could have caught flies the way her mouth hung open. If she hadn’t been looking directly at me, I doubt that she would have believed me. As it was, I think she was having great difficulty coming to terms with the whole thing. My sister was a person who believed everything has a place and there’s a place for everything. There was no shelf big enough for this whopper though.

  “When?” she asked, taking a big drag of beer to get her mouth parts wet again. She had completely dried them out while her mouth gaped open. “How long do you think that we have before they come… here?” She swallowed another big swig. That was a hard piece to get down the gullet in one swallow.

  “Three weeks, a month. Two months at best.” Her eyes grew to the size of saucers.

  “What time did Ronny say he was getting here?” She got up and went to the fridge after discovering that our alcohol supply was running dangerously low, which had to be remedied under these conditions. I laughed.

  “Sis, I don’t think you need any more anyway.”

  “Where should we go? What should we do?” my sister said anxiously. I could tell that she was nervous because she began to clean absent-mindedly.

  “First off, you can sit down. Nothing’s going to happen tonight.” I crossed my fingers behind my back. She threw her hand towel into the sink and plopped back down with an audible sigh. “My advice would be to stay away from all large urban centers; that’s where they are going to make their presence known.”

  “Are they planning to wipe us out?” she asked almost like a five year old asking if she could stay up late, quivering lip and all.

&
nbsp; “Worse, sis. Much worse; they plan to enslave us.” She almost fell out of her seat.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “All that we can. We live, we fight. I’m not going down like a sheep. I’ve seen these bastards; they have no regard for our lives whatsoever. They’d just as soon eat us as pet us.” My sister was shivering visibly. “I don’t mean to scare you, but this is going to happen whether you want it to or not.”

  “Why isn’t the president doing something about it? Why haven’t we been told anything?”

  “He is doing things. But he can’t tell the general population just yet. What do you think would happen? There’d be mass hysteria, rioting, looting and worse. And just at a time when we need the entire country locked together, we would be tearing each other apart. That’s just what the Progerians want. Although, to be honest with you, I don’t think they are all that concerned about us as a species anyway. But who knows? Maybe that hole we ripped in their side might just make them think things over for a bit." My sister and I just sat there, both deep in our own separate but reflective thoughts. We both turned to watch as the sun began its ascent over the pond.

  Ronny must have slept for an hour before he hopped in the car. I blurrily watched as his little red Beemer screamed up Dad’s dirt drive. Fifty years old and he still drove like he was seventeen! No wonder he had totaled so many of his cars. I walked out onto the porch to greet him; the winter air was electrifying. My mind went from dullness to crispness in mere seconds. I was tired and wired all at the same time. My body was ready for sleep but my mind could go on forever, or so it seemed.

  Ronny slipped while getting out of the car, barely catching himself. He looked like something out of a Three Stooges matinee. Legs going a mile a minute, but getting no traction. If he actually got some tread, I thought, he probably couldn’t stop until he was halfway through the side of the house.