Chapter 9
Brad held the door closed, his ear to the jam. He moved his body to the side, half expecting a bullet to shatter the living room window and tear through the door, but the ripping damage of a bullet never came. Luckily, the intruders didn't see the kitchen door close in the sweep of the flashlight. Brad flipped his night vision goggles back down and plainly saw Susan and Recon at the back door, their heads turned to the sound of his footsteps in the hollow blackness of the room.
He shouldered the crossbow strap as he quickly went to the back door and viewed the short distance of field between the house and forest through the door window. He picked up no heat signatures, but knew that armed men would soon surround the house. He opened the door slowly, just enough for Recon to slip out. "Recon. Check." He said softly as the dog went through the cracked door.
A moment passed before Brad took Susan by the hand and led her out the door. Ambient light from the stars allowed her to discern Brad's silhouette in the darkness.
From the far right corner at the rear of the house, Brad heard Recon give a short, quiet growl. Brad pointed to Susan and then pointed to the forest line. He repeated the gesture again. He wanted her to run for the woods. She turned and moved quickly as Brad spun around towards the sound of Recon, the crossbow swinging from his shoulder and a bolt being pulled in place, ready to fire. Brad whispered for Recon to come. As Recon moved towards Brad, a man came around the corner of the house, moving stealthily as possible. A pistol in his hand. In the darkness the man saw the movement of Recon, but didn't know what it was. It was a dark shadow of movement in the night lost to even the starlight . He quickly raised his weapon, looking for the movement again.
Brad pulled the trigger. The only sound was the twang of the bolt leaving the crossbow and the wet smack as it went through the man's throat and severed his spine. The man silently dropped to his knees and fell over sideways.
Brad ran over to him and started rifling through his pockets quickly, looking for a wallet or anything that would identify who these people were.
A voice crackled through the receiver on the dead man's chest. In almost a whisper a voice said, "Alpha Five, contact when you are in position. If they come out the back, waste the hippie. He's becoming a pain in the ass. This should be a simple grab. Do what you have too to subdue the chick, but don't kill her. She has to be delivered alive." The voice paused. "Alpha five, do you copy? Over."
Alpha 5 stared at the sky with unseeing eyes as Brad searched his pockets, and would never respond to the message. Brad found nothing.
"Alpha four." The same voice said with an edge of urgency. "Alpha five does not answer. Check it out now! Move! Move!" Alpha three. Give four backup. Move out, now!"
Brad turned the man on his side and quickly snapped the radio off his belt and the receiver from his chest
He turned to the forest and could see Susan's heat register in the tree line. Shoving the man's weapon into his belt and the radio in his pocket, he rushed towards her glow in the eerie light of a green world that night vision goggles create.
To the naked eye, the hundred feet of grassy field was a shade lighter of black than the hidden darkness below the canopy of trees at its perimeter. Brad's movement across the field was discernible, but barely. Susan could make out the figure running in her direction.
She didn't notice the man who came around the other side of the house. The first shot cracked through the silent night, making her jump.
Brad heard the bullet smack the dirt next to him. With the second report of the gun, Susan was looking towards the house and saw the muzzle flash. She glance over to Brad and could see his feet literally fly out from under him as he hit the ground hard. She quickly raised the semi-automatic, pointing it and the flashlight in the direction of the gun fire, and turned the lamp on. The man was wearing night goggles. Susan could see that the man was taking more careful aim at Brad, preparing for a third shot when Susan caught him in the beam of light. The man threw his hand up to the goggle lens, blinded as if a flashbulb had just gone off in his face. Susan fired three shots. With the first shot the man staggered against the wall of the house and looked down at his chest, then back up, raising his gun in Susan's direction he fired off one quick shot, the bullet ripping the air passed her ear, sounding like a supersonic mosquito. He jerked with her second shot, and with the third, his arm slumped, the gun dropped and he fell to the ground.
Susan ran to where she though she saw Brad fall, but he was not there. She spun quickly to find the large shape of a man directly behind her. She let out a short scream as she raised the gun.
"Hold on, there, Annie Oakley. It's me." Brad said as he pushed the barrel of the gun aside.
"Damn it, Brad. " she said angrily, punching him in the arm. "Don't do that."
Then she started touching him, running her hands over his arms, chest and face. "Are you all right?" she asked with worry. "I thought you were shot."
"That guy blew the heel off my boot. The impact knocked my foot out from under me and I hit the dirt."
"So, you're okay." she said impatiently.
"Hell, no." he said indignantly. "These are my best pair of boots. Not to mention it knocked the wind out of me when I hit the ground."
"What? What kind of Special Forces guy are you, anyway?" She asked in a tone of disbelief.
"A retired one. One that now shoos flies out of the house. I'm very peaceful."
Susan glanced down at the corner of the house where the man lay with a crossbow bolt sticking out of his neck. "Yeah." she said, "I can see that."
A bullet smacked into a redwood tree at the tree line just feet from where they stood. They turned in unison and ran into the darkness and cover of the forest. Brad grabbed Susan's hand as they entered the invisible maze of trees in the pitch black created by the canopy. He ran another forty feet before stopping, spinning and crouching, the .45 held in a two handed grip. He surveyed the area through the goggles and saw no pursuers.
"Team leader." he heard a voice say from the receiver in his pocket. He pulled it out and listened. "This is Alpha 3. Alpha 4 and Alpha 5 are dead."
"What?" The voice came back loud. "These assholes have weapons!!?"
"What's your orders, Sir." Alpha 3 asked after a long pause of static.
"Shut-up. I'm thinking." came the response, then another long pause.
"Shit. I just can't believe this." The team leader said over the air wave in frustration. "This should have been a simple termination and extraction.
"Alpha 6. Do you copy? Over." the team leader said after another pause.
"Affirmative." Another voice said.
"Bring the van in. It doesn't matter now. They're probably half way into the mountains. Park it in front of the barn and let's clean up before we leave. No evidence left. Is that understood? Respond in order."
Brad listened as the three men still alive responded.
"I want to see if I can get a plate number off of their van." Brad said softly to Susan. He handed her the goggles. "I'm going to go down behind the barn and sneak around to the side. I don't think they will expect me to come back. Cover me."
Susan grabbed his forearm. "That sounds kind of Rambo. Wouldn't logic and common sense say that we should run as deep and as far into these woods as we can?"
He was silent for a moment, as if he was thinking it over, which she could not see in the darkness.
From the silhouette in front of her came the response. "Yes, that does seem the logical thing to do, doesn't it." He handed her the goggles. "I'll be right back. Don't let anybody shoot me."
All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Day at the Beach Ch 8
Chapter 8
The neighborhood that Brad drove through with Susan close behind is about twelve blocks of mostly single storied houses built in the 30's and 40's. At one time they were mostly summer homes that people in the broiling inland valley or San Jose escaped too to avoid the heat, but now they were occupied year around by renter and retired people. Light spilled from the windows of the houses invitingly as Brad and Susan raced passed them towards the beach.
The neighborhood abruptly halted at a yawn of parking lot that criss-crossed the street, the beach just beyond where the street ended. The lot was fairly full of cars, their occupants noisily partying in the light of bonfires. To the left were three streets intersecting off of the parking area, each branching like a tentacle to different areas. Brad turned right into the big lot with Susan following close. She continually glanced into her mirror, expecting to see headlights rushing towards her at any moment, but saw only street lamps drifting away into the darkness. Brad slowed down as an old Volkswagen bus with a bundled rack on top chugged past him towards the triple split roads. Susan saw Brad's hand come out of the Land Rover. He tossed something onto the top of the VW, which clung between the bundles on top. Susan knew it was the tracking device, and now understood what Brad meant by 'diversion'.
Brad rode his brakes as he watched the bus in his mirror. When he saw the bus start to climb the hill on the second road, he smiled in satisfaction and took off. The middle road followed the coast south before crossing back to the main highway. The other two were short roads, the one on the right no more than a quarter mile long. Satisfied that the wild goose chase he had just created would keep the pursuers busy long enough to get far away from here.
Brad went to the end of the street and made a right, traveling along the edge of the neighborhood, feeling confident that Susan's pursuers wouldn't have a greeting party waiting for them at the only other exit from the neighborhood. He glanced down at Manny's a half block away as they completed their circle from where they had started their run from the pursuers and came up to the highway overpass. He saw nobody waiting, no cars running. They quickly crossed over the highway and made a left on Soquel Drive. Susan held close to him, feeling tense about doing 60 in a 35 MPH zone. Brad made a quick right turn and they were suddenly out of town, driving back up the road that she had come down that morning, where everything had started. Where she had met Brad. God, that was just this morning! Brad slowed down as the bright lights of town fell behind them, replaced by pools of home lights and front porch lanterns creating globes of gold in the darkness. The busy traffic of Soquel Drive ceased to exist as they traveled down the country road, leaving it all behind.
Susan realized that she had been holding her breath. She let out a sigh as they rode up and down the hills that led into the mountains, the houses becoming fewer until there was none at all. They traveled for ten minutes passed stands of redwood trees that were black silhouettes against a star lit sky. Brad braked and turned right into a long dirt driveway. In her headlights she could see a large pasture, her lights gleaming off the eyes of cattle that watched them with mild curiosity. As they came up to a barn next to the house a motion detector light came on from the pitch of the barn roof, flooding the area with light. A Labrador Retriever bounded down from the wooden steps of the large porch that ran the expanse of the house. The dog trotted to the truck, his tail wagging so hard that his whole rear end wagged with the movement. In the glow of the light, Susan could see that this was the same house that she had always looked for as a child when traveling to the beach with her family. It was the same house that she had admired with that same reverence this morning just before she saw Brad down the road fixing a fence.
Brad got out of the truck and scratched the dogs head as Susan walked up to them. The dog, satisfied with his masters greeting, went to Susan, tail still wagging and sniffed at her, then looked up at her as if waiting for the expected greeting. She scratched his head and said, "Who's this?"
"That's Recon." Brad responded. "Be careful. You can see that he's a real killer."
Susan looked at the dog, who looked back at her with complete adoration. "Yeah, he's real scary." she said, scratching him behind the ear.
Brad walked over to the barn and slide the large doors back, revealing an expansive barn, with stables on one side, bales of hay in an opening next to the stalls, and various equipment hanging from the walls. On the right side sat the old pickup that she had seen that morning, parked at the back of the barn. "I'm going to back into the barn, and want you to back in in front of me."
She looked at him suspiciously. "Are you assuming I'm spending the night?"
"I'm assuming that there are people looking for you, and aren't real sure of their intentions or what they are capable and willing to do to get what they want. If they add me into their scenario, they might backtrack - look for either of our vehicles as they pass farm houses.
"I have lots of room here." He said, gesturing towards the two storied wooden house. "If you do find it safer to spend the night here, it will be on your terms."
She studied him for a moment. He raised his eyebrows, looking at her the innocence of a boy scout.
"Okay." she said simply.
"Great! Let's do it quickly, just in case they're smarter than I think they are." Brad said, then turned and hopped into the truck, turning it around and backing deep into the barn. Susan followed suit. Brad slid the doors shut as she walked out.
"Welcome to my home." Brad said as he opened the front door of the house.
"You own this?" Susan asked with a tone of disbelief.
"Yep." Brad responded. "And the 200 acres that go with it."
"Huh." She grunted. "I thought you were just a local hippie who worked as a handyman."
"I am." He said. "But, I own what I work on."
Brad flipped a switch as they walked in, Recon leading the way. Light from two lamps with stain glassed shades lit the living room. Their light spilled across the front porch through paned windows on either side of the door. The floor was polished hardwood. Persian rugs graced its surface. A leather couch and reclining, comfortable looking chairs surrounded a large burl redwood table, it's surface polished to a glassy finish. Beside each chair were tall lamps, also topped with stained glass shades. Within the right wall was a large, river rock fireplace, a platform of river rock extended squarely in front of it like a tongue spreading from a cavernous mouth. The walls and ceiling were tongue and groove, knotty pine, warmed by the light of the lamps. Beyond the fireplace, Susan could see what had to be a dining area. A dark wood dining table with ornately carved legs stood in the middle of the room with eight matching chairs surrounding it. On it's surface stood two tall candles in old fashion silver candle holders, each with a small finger grip. Against the wall on the other side of the table was book shelves that extended to the ceiling, filled with hardback books. A wall with a shelf and sliding service door behind the table housed the kitchen. A swinging wooden door entranced the room.
Paintings that followed no theme, other than they appeared to be from all over the world, hung from the walls of the living room.
"Very nice." Susan commented as she took it all in. "Very masculine, but nice. Neat and clean too. Do you have a housekeeper?" She asked teasingly.
"Nope. Just a lot of training. My mother and father raised me like this, and then it was punctuated in my line of work.
"Would you like a tour?" he asked.
"Are you kidding?" she said. "I've wanted a tour of this house since I was a little girl."
On the lower level he opened a door that went into a workout room that looked almost professional. Weight racks lined one wall, filled with dumbbells of increasing weights. A Nautilus free weight machine sat in the middle of the room, In a corner was what appeared to be a body bag, used by boxers to practice body punches, and a speed bag hanging from the ceiling, which is a small leather bag also used by boxers to better their rhythm of movement.
"Do you use all of this stuff?" she asked.
"I like to stay in shape." He answered as he guided her to the next room, which was an office. A large wooden desk stood in front of a window, now dark with night, but probably giving a nice view of the forests behind the green fields in the back of the house in day light. The walls were filled with framed certificates and photographs. She studied a few of them with surprise. Bachelor degree, Masters degree and Ph.D. from eastern Universities. Certificates of qualification or mastering in things she wasn't sure what they meant, other than they were military related. In the photographs were the same clean shaven young man that resembled the long hair, bearded man that stood next to her. In each photo he wore combat fatigues or the full dress uniform of a soldier. In some he wore the stripes of a sergeant on his sleeve, in others the emblem of an officer on his shoulders or shirt lapel. She actually recognized some of the men who stood smilingly next to him staring at the camera, or sternly exchanging salutes with him in what appeared to be a ceremony.
"My God." she said in surprise. "Isn't that the General in charge of the Joint Chiefs of Staff?" Before he could answer she looked at the one next to it and said, "I recognize him. He's the director of the CIA."
She looked at Brad and said. "That's you getting a medal, isn't it? That's you with political celebrities."
"Yes." He said. "That was another life that I once led."
"And, what did you do?"
"My standard answer is the I was a communications expert. Commo was my MOS going in."
"Your what?"
"Commo was my job. It was my first training after basic."
She glanced back at the pictures, then at Brad. "It looks like you moved on to other things during your service.
"Yes, ma'am." he said formally as he led her from the room.
He climbed the stairs, talking over his shoulder as Susan followed him. "Upstairs are four bedrooms and a bathroom. I keep one room made up just in case I have a guest. But, if you decide to stay and like another room, it would only take a moment to make a bed."
She looked at his butt as she climbed the stairs behind him, a slight rise creased the corners of her mouth.
"That's generous of you, pilgrim." she said, doing a poor John Wayne impersonation. "When you say, I can stay in any room, does that mean ANY room?"
Brad stopped at the top of the stairs and turned. In an almost perfect imitation of voice and inflection he said, "That's right, little lady. Any room. Of course -", he said as they came to the top of the steps into a common entryway, "I would suggest you sleep as close to me as possible for ultimate protection."
She smiled and said, "Which door's the bathroom?"
"That one." He said, pointing at the center door, then as he walked to the door beyond it he pointed at two other doors as he walked pass them and said, "Those are the spare rooms." He opened the end door and turned to her. "This is the master bedroom, which has its own facilities."
"Ooh." she said. "I like this." as she entered the room. A Queen size bed centered against the wall. A Large Oak dresser to the side. Windows on two walls gave what must be a scenic view of the area in day light. Thick throw rugs spottily covered the floor. What seemed totally out of place to her was an army green footlocker at the foot of his bed.
"What's that?" She asked.
"Oh, just extra blankets and emergency stuff."
"An army footlocker?"
"Well, when I came home I didn't have a steamers trunk, but I had that. It works."
Changing the subject, he said, "So, if you had a choice, and you do, where would you be most comfortable tonight?"
"I don't know." she said, coming up close and running her hand up his chest. "I like the idea of a bathroom close by."
"Don't forget the protection part." he commented.
"Oh yes. I almost forgot about that. That would be you, wouldn't it? You're my cowboy with the white hat." She said, putting her other arm around his waist.
"If the great Kahuna is with me at all." he said, taking her in his arms and kissing her deeply.
When she pulled back she felt as light headed as she did when he kissed her by the fence that morning. "I need a shower." she managed to breath.
"Why don't you jump into this one." he said, nodding towards the master bathroom.
"Since this is the room I'm going to sleep in, that sounds like a good idea." she responded.
"Everything you need is in the left hand drawer. I'm going to go down stair and close up the house."
"I'm not usually this easy." she said as she turned to the bathroom.
"Neither am I." He grinned as he walked out the door.
Susan exited the steaming bathroom, wrapped in a large white towel and placed her clothes on a chair next to the bed. Just then Brad walked into the room. He wore just his jeans barefoot and bare chested, his hair damp and messed. Susan looked him up and down admiringly.
"My, my." she said. "Aren't you the hunk."
"Does that work in my favor?" he asked, going to her and taking her into his arms.
She noticed the hint of soap with a touch of the sea emanating from him. "We'll see." She said as she kissed him on the shoulder.
Susan felt herself falling into the moment, losing herself in Brad's embrace, his lips upon her neck, when suddenly Recon let out a low growl from the open doorway. Brad tensed immediately, and cocked his head as if he was listening to something far away. Susan listened also, not sure of what he was listening to. In the distance she heard a steer moo, then another one as if in response. Then a short bleat, as if a steer was irritated.
"Get dressed, quick." Brad said, turning and rushing to the end of the bed.
"What's going on?" She asked.
"We have company." he answered as he lifted the lid of the the footlocker, pulling out blankets and throwing them on the bed. He glanced up at her. "Now, honey. We don't have much time."
'Honey", she thought. 'He called me honey.'
She pulled the towel from her body and draped it over the back of the chair that held her clothes. As she turned back she glanced at Brad, who had stopped rummaging through the footlocker, staring at her with his mouth open. She smiled seductively and said, "What are you looking at, big boy?"
Brad tore his eyes away and resumed removing blankets from the footlocker. As he did he mumbled almost to himself, "These people are starting to irritate me. They keep messing up our night."
He stood and stared into the bottom on the footlocker in contemplation. Susan slipped into her jeans, pulled on a tank top and slipped into her sandals.
"I'm ready." she said as she walked over and looked into the footlocker that he was studying. At the bottom was neatly arranged weapons. He reached down and pulled out a Glock and a clip of bullets.
"Do you know how to use one of these?" he asked as he handed it to her.
She expertly slammed the clip into the butt of the pistol and slid the action back, chambered a round before she clicked the safety on. She smiled at him innocently and said, "Yes."
Surprised, he asked. "Where did you learn that?"
"I would tell you, but it looks like we don't have a lot of time to chat at the moment."
"Yeah. Right." he responded as he reached back into the locker, pulling out a pair of night goggle, a 45 automatic, in a black military holster, which he strapped to his waist, Velcroing the bottom straps to his thigh. He then reached in and pulled out what looked to Susan like a crossbow, but one like she had never seen before.
"What's that/" she asked.
"The repeating rifle of crossbows." he said. "If things get hairy, we won't want to give away our position." As he quickly put on his boots he said, "Anticipate all scenarios, cover all bases." As he stood he grabbed a T-bar knife from the locker and slid it into a sheath on the pistol belt.
He let out a sigh as he looked at her, then tried to put on a confident expression to his face. "Okay. Let's see what we're dealing with." He turned the lights off, sending them into pitch darkness.
Brad's voice moved towards the window as he spoke, "They're probably not going to move until they think we're pre-occupied or asleep, which means they're keeping an eye on this window, waiting for the lights to go out."
"What are you doing?" she asked, not moving from the spot where she stood when it went dark.
"I'm check out the terrain with night vision goggles." They both were silent as Brad studied the fields in front of the house from the second story window.
"See anything?" Susan finally asked after a long silence.
"Yep." he said. "I see five people spread out across the main pasture. They're carrying weapons and moving slow, trying to not spook the cattle." He paused as he watched. "Oops. They must be wired. They all stopped at once - probably want to give us a few minutes to settle in."
"What are we going to do?" Susan asked.
"Well - ", he said turning, and putting his arm around her, guiding her to the door, "Since there's five of them and two of us, and being in a box isn't exactly an advantageous position, we're going to get the hell out of here."
He stopped at a small hall dresser. Susan heard a drawer slide open and shut. "Here." Brad said as he guided her hand to a flashlight that he held. "Don't turn it on unless you have to take a shot, and then hold it next to the pistol so you can see where your bullet is going."
She felt Brad stop at the top of the stairs, her fingers touching his back. She felt him bend down and whisper, "Recon. Go."
She could barely discern the tap of the dogs nails on the stair well as he slowly descended the steps, the sound dissipating as he entered the lower house. Brad waited for a moment until he heard
the tap of the dogs nails return to the bottom of the steps and stop. Recon made no other sound.
"Okay." Brad whispered. "Let's go."
"Stay low." Brad said as they passed the living room windows hunched down. Brad led them to the kitchen door, Susan and Recon moved quickly into the kitchen. As Brad was closing it behind him the beam of a flashlight pierced the darkness through the window by which they had just passed, the light glancing off the wall, sweeping across the kitchen door just as it closed. Brad hoped that the closing door had not been spotted. If it had, they would have armed people waiting for them at the back door.
All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
The neighborhood that Brad drove through with Susan close behind is about twelve blocks of mostly single storied houses built in the 30's and 40's. At one time they were mostly summer homes that people in the broiling inland valley or San Jose escaped too to avoid the heat, but now they were occupied year around by renter and retired people. Light spilled from the windows of the houses invitingly as Brad and Susan raced passed them towards the beach.
The neighborhood abruptly halted at a yawn of parking lot that criss-crossed the street, the beach just beyond where the street ended. The lot was fairly full of cars, their occupants noisily partying in the light of bonfires. To the left were three streets intersecting off of the parking area, each branching like a tentacle to different areas. Brad turned right into the big lot with Susan following close. She continually glanced into her mirror, expecting to see headlights rushing towards her at any moment, but saw only street lamps drifting away into the darkness. Brad slowed down as an old Volkswagen bus with a bundled rack on top chugged past him towards the triple split roads. Susan saw Brad's hand come out of the Land Rover. He tossed something onto the top of the VW, which clung between the bundles on top. Susan knew it was the tracking device, and now understood what Brad meant by 'diversion'.
Brad rode his brakes as he watched the bus in his mirror. When he saw the bus start to climb the hill on the second road, he smiled in satisfaction and took off. The middle road followed the coast south before crossing back to the main highway. The other two were short roads, the one on the right no more than a quarter mile long. Satisfied that the wild goose chase he had just created would keep the pursuers busy long enough to get far away from here.
Brad went to the end of the street and made a right, traveling along the edge of the neighborhood, feeling confident that Susan's pursuers wouldn't have a greeting party waiting for them at the only other exit from the neighborhood. He glanced down at Manny's a half block away as they completed their circle from where they had started their run from the pursuers and came up to the highway overpass. He saw nobody waiting, no cars running. They quickly crossed over the highway and made a left on Soquel Drive. Susan held close to him, feeling tense about doing 60 in a 35 MPH zone. Brad made a quick right turn and they were suddenly out of town, driving back up the road that she had come down that morning, where everything had started. Where she had met Brad. God, that was just this morning! Brad slowed down as the bright lights of town fell behind them, replaced by pools of home lights and front porch lanterns creating globes of gold in the darkness. The busy traffic of Soquel Drive ceased to exist as they traveled down the country road, leaving it all behind.
Susan realized that she had been holding her breath. She let out a sigh as they rode up and down the hills that led into the mountains, the houses becoming fewer until there was none at all. They traveled for ten minutes passed stands of redwood trees that were black silhouettes against a star lit sky. Brad braked and turned right into a long dirt driveway. In her headlights she could see a large pasture, her lights gleaming off the eyes of cattle that watched them with mild curiosity. As they came up to a barn next to the house a motion detector light came on from the pitch of the barn roof, flooding the area with light. A Labrador Retriever bounded down from the wooden steps of the large porch that ran the expanse of the house. The dog trotted to the truck, his tail wagging so hard that his whole rear end wagged with the movement. In the glow of the light, Susan could see that this was the same house that she had always looked for as a child when traveling to the beach with her family. It was the same house that she had admired with that same reverence this morning just before she saw Brad down the road fixing a fence.
Brad got out of the truck and scratched the dogs head as Susan walked up to them. The dog, satisfied with his masters greeting, went to Susan, tail still wagging and sniffed at her, then looked up at her as if waiting for the expected greeting. She scratched his head and said, "Who's this?"
"That's Recon." Brad responded. "Be careful. You can see that he's a real killer."
Susan looked at the dog, who looked back at her with complete adoration. "Yeah, he's real scary." she said, scratching him behind the ear.
Brad walked over to the barn and slide the large doors back, revealing an expansive barn, with stables on one side, bales of hay in an opening next to the stalls, and various equipment hanging from the walls. On the right side sat the old pickup that she had seen that morning, parked at the back of the barn. "I'm going to back into the barn, and want you to back in in front of me."
She looked at him suspiciously. "Are you assuming I'm spending the night?"
"I'm assuming that there are people looking for you, and aren't real sure of their intentions or what they are capable and willing to do to get what they want. If they add me into their scenario, they might backtrack - look for either of our vehicles as they pass farm houses.
"I have lots of room here." He said, gesturing towards the two storied wooden house. "If you do find it safer to spend the night here, it will be on your terms."
She studied him for a moment. He raised his eyebrows, looking at her the innocence of a boy scout.
"Okay." she said simply.
"Great! Let's do it quickly, just in case they're smarter than I think they are." Brad said, then turned and hopped into the truck, turning it around and backing deep into the barn. Susan followed suit. Brad slid the doors shut as she walked out.
"Welcome to my home." Brad said as he opened the front door of the house.
"You own this?" Susan asked with a tone of disbelief.
"Yep." Brad responded. "And the 200 acres that go with it."
"Huh." She grunted. "I thought you were just a local hippie who worked as a handyman."
"I am." He said. "But, I own what I work on."
Brad flipped a switch as they walked in, Recon leading the way. Light from two lamps with stain glassed shades lit the living room. Their light spilled across the front porch through paned windows on either side of the door. The floor was polished hardwood. Persian rugs graced its surface. A leather couch and reclining, comfortable looking chairs surrounded a large burl redwood table, it's surface polished to a glassy finish. Beside each chair were tall lamps, also topped with stained glass shades. Within the right wall was a large, river rock fireplace, a platform of river rock extended squarely in front of it like a tongue spreading from a cavernous mouth. The walls and ceiling were tongue and groove, knotty pine, warmed by the light of the lamps. Beyond the fireplace, Susan could see what had to be a dining area. A dark wood dining table with ornately carved legs stood in the middle of the room with eight matching chairs surrounding it. On it's surface stood two tall candles in old fashion silver candle holders, each with a small finger grip. Against the wall on the other side of the table was book shelves that extended to the ceiling, filled with hardback books. A wall with a shelf and sliding service door behind the table housed the kitchen. A swinging wooden door entranced the room.
Paintings that followed no theme, other than they appeared to be from all over the world, hung from the walls of the living room.
"Very nice." Susan commented as she took it all in. "Very masculine, but nice. Neat and clean too. Do you have a housekeeper?" She asked teasingly.
"Nope. Just a lot of training. My mother and father raised me like this, and then it was punctuated in my line of work.
"Would you like a tour?" he asked.
"Are you kidding?" she said. "I've wanted a tour of this house since I was a little girl."
On the lower level he opened a door that went into a workout room that looked almost professional. Weight racks lined one wall, filled with dumbbells of increasing weights. A Nautilus free weight machine sat in the middle of the room, In a corner was what appeared to be a body bag, used by boxers to practice body punches, and a speed bag hanging from the ceiling, which is a small leather bag also used by boxers to better their rhythm of movement.
"Do you use all of this stuff?" she asked.
"I like to stay in shape." He answered as he guided her to the next room, which was an office. A large wooden desk stood in front of a window, now dark with night, but probably giving a nice view of the forests behind the green fields in the back of the house in day light. The walls were filled with framed certificates and photographs. She studied a few of them with surprise. Bachelor degree, Masters degree and Ph.D. from eastern Universities. Certificates of qualification or mastering in things she wasn't sure what they meant, other than they were military related. In the photographs were the same clean shaven young man that resembled the long hair, bearded man that stood next to her. In each photo he wore combat fatigues or the full dress uniform of a soldier. In some he wore the stripes of a sergeant on his sleeve, in others the emblem of an officer on his shoulders or shirt lapel. She actually recognized some of the men who stood smilingly next to him staring at the camera, or sternly exchanging salutes with him in what appeared to be a ceremony.
"My God." she said in surprise. "Isn't that the General in charge of the Joint Chiefs of Staff?" Before he could answer she looked at the one next to it and said, "I recognize him. He's the director of the CIA."
She looked at Brad and said. "That's you getting a medal, isn't it? That's you with political celebrities."
"Yes." He said. "That was another life that I once led."
"And, what did you do?"
"My standard answer is the I was a communications expert. Commo was my MOS going in."
"Your what?"
"Commo was my job. It was my first training after basic."
She glanced back at the pictures, then at Brad. "It looks like you moved on to other things during your service.
"Yes, ma'am." he said formally as he led her from the room.
He climbed the stairs, talking over his shoulder as Susan followed him. "Upstairs are four bedrooms and a bathroom. I keep one room made up just in case I have a guest. But, if you decide to stay and like another room, it would only take a moment to make a bed."
She looked at his butt as she climbed the stairs behind him, a slight rise creased the corners of her mouth.
"That's generous of you, pilgrim." she said, doing a poor John Wayne impersonation. "When you say, I can stay in any room, does that mean ANY room?"
Brad stopped at the top of the stairs and turned. In an almost perfect imitation of voice and inflection he said, "That's right, little lady. Any room. Of course -", he said as they came to the top of the steps into a common entryway, "I would suggest you sleep as close to me as possible for ultimate protection."
She smiled and said, "Which door's the bathroom?"
"That one." He said, pointing at the center door, then as he walked to the door beyond it he pointed at two other doors as he walked pass them and said, "Those are the spare rooms." He opened the end door and turned to her. "This is the master bedroom, which has its own facilities."
"Ooh." she said. "I like this." as she entered the room. A Queen size bed centered against the wall. A Large Oak dresser to the side. Windows on two walls gave what must be a scenic view of the area in day light. Thick throw rugs spottily covered the floor. What seemed totally out of place to her was an army green footlocker at the foot of his bed.
"What's that?" She asked.
"Oh, just extra blankets and emergency stuff."
"An army footlocker?"
"Well, when I came home I didn't have a steamers trunk, but I had that. It works."
Changing the subject, he said, "So, if you had a choice, and you do, where would you be most comfortable tonight?"
"I don't know." she said, coming up close and running her hand up his chest. "I like the idea of a bathroom close by."
"Don't forget the protection part." he commented.
"Oh yes. I almost forgot about that. That would be you, wouldn't it? You're my cowboy with the white hat." She said, putting her other arm around his waist.
"If the great Kahuna is with me at all." he said, taking her in his arms and kissing her deeply.
When she pulled back she felt as light headed as she did when he kissed her by the fence that morning. "I need a shower." she managed to breath.
"Why don't you jump into this one." he said, nodding towards the master bathroom.
"Since this is the room I'm going to sleep in, that sounds like a good idea." she responded.
"Everything you need is in the left hand drawer. I'm going to go down stair and close up the house."
"I'm not usually this easy." she said as she turned to the bathroom.
"Neither am I." He grinned as he walked out the door.
Susan exited the steaming bathroom, wrapped in a large white towel and placed her clothes on a chair next to the bed. Just then Brad walked into the room. He wore just his jeans barefoot and bare chested, his hair damp and messed. Susan looked him up and down admiringly.
"My, my." she said. "Aren't you the hunk."
"Does that work in my favor?" he asked, going to her and taking her into his arms.
She noticed the hint of soap with a touch of the sea emanating from him. "We'll see." She said as she kissed him on the shoulder.
Susan felt herself falling into the moment, losing herself in Brad's embrace, his lips upon her neck, when suddenly Recon let out a low growl from the open doorway. Brad tensed immediately, and cocked his head as if he was listening to something far away. Susan listened also, not sure of what he was listening to. In the distance she heard a steer moo, then another one as if in response. Then a short bleat, as if a steer was irritated.
"Get dressed, quick." Brad said, turning and rushing to the end of the bed.
"What's going on?" She asked.
"We have company." he answered as he lifted the lid of the the footlocker, pulling out blankets and throwing them on the bed. He glanced up at her. "Now, honey. We don't have much time."
'Honey", she thought. 'He called me honey.'
She pulled the towel from her body and draped it over the back of the chair that held her clothes. As she turned back she glanced at Brad, who had stopped rummaging through the footlocker, staring at her with his mouth open. She smiled seductively and said, "What are you looking at, big boy?"
Brad tore his eyes away and resumed removing blankets from the footlocker. As he did he mumbled almost to himself, "These people are starting to irritate me. They keep messing up our night."
He stood and stared into the bottom on the footlocker in contemplation. Susan slipped into her jeans, pulled on a tank top and slipped into her sandals.
"I'm ready." she said as she walked over and looked into the footlocker that he was studying. At the bottom was neatly arranged weapons. He reached down and pulled out a Glock and a clip of bullets.
"Do you know how to use one of these?" he asked as he handed it to her.
She expertly slammed the clip into the butt of the pistol and slid the action back, chambered a round before she clicked the safety on. She smiled at him innocently and said, "Yes."
Surprised, he asked. "Where did you learn that?"
"I would tell you, but it looks like we don't have a lot of time to chat at the moment."
"Yeah. Right." he responded as he reached back into the locker, pulling out a pair of night goggle, a 45 automatic, in a black military holster, which he strapped to his waist, Velcroing the bottom straps to his thigh. He then reached in and pulled out what looked to Susan like a crossbow, but one like she had never seen before.
"What's that/" she asked.
"The repeating rifle of crossbows." he said. "If things get hairy, we won't want to give away our position." As he quickly put on his boots he said, "Anticipate all scenarios, cover all bases." As he stood he grabbed a T-bar knife from the locker and slid it into a sheath on the pistol belt.
He let out a sigh as he looked at her, then tried to put on a confident expression to his face. "Okay. Let's see what we're dealing with." He turned the lights off, sending them into pitch darkness.
Brad's voice moved towards the window as he spoke, "They're probably not going to move until they think we're pre-occupied or asleep, which means they're keeping an eye on this window, waiting for the lights to go out."
"What are you doing?" she asked, not moving from the spot where she stood when it went dark.
"I'm check out the terrain with night vision goggles." They both were silent as Brad studied the fields in front of the house from the second story window.
"See anything?" Susan finally asked after a long silence.
"Yep." he said. "I see five people spread out across the main pasture. They're carrying weapons and moving slow, trying to not spook the cattle." He paused as he watched. "Oops. They must be wired. They all stopped at once - probably want to give us a few minutes to settle in."
"What are we going to do?" Susan asked.
"Well - ", he said turning, and putting his arm around her, guiding her to the door, "Since there's five of them and two of us, and being in a box isn't exactly an advantageous position, we're going to get the hell out of here."
He stopped at a small hall dresser. Susan heard a drawer slide open and shut. "Here." Brad said as he guided her hand to a flashlight that he held. "Don't turn it on unless you have to take a shot, and then hold it next to the pistol so you can see where your bullet is going."
She felt Brad stop at the top of the stairs, her fingers touching his back. She felt him bend down and whisper, "Recon. Go."
She could barely discern the tap of the dogs nails on the stair well as he slowly descended the steps, the sound dissipating as he entered the lower house. Brad waited for a moment until he heard
the tap of the dogs nails return to the bottom of the steps and stop. Recon made no other sound.
"Okay." Brad whispered. "Let's go."
"Stay low." Brad said as they passed the living room windows hunched down. Brad led them to the kitchen door, Susan and Recon moved quickly into the kitchen. As Brad was closing it behind him the beam of a flashlight pierced the darkness through the window by which they had just passed, the light glancing off the wall, sweeping across the kitchen door just as it closed. Brad hoped that the closing door had not been spotted. If it had, they would have armed people waiting for them at the back door.
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All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Day at the Beach Ch 7
Susan was having a wonderful day, and it was ending sooner than she wanted. She had bought an ankle bracelet and a toe ring at the jewelry booth. The jewelry gave her a subtle sense of stepping out from herself, for they were not work accessories, but just something that she liked.
The sky smiled a deep blue and the sea laughed against the shore in foaming waves. Brad had removed his cowboy boots and rolled his Levi's to his knees. Susan swung her sandals from a strap that dangled from her fingers. They walked on the cool wet sand at the waters edge, a sliver of ocean bubbling at their feet as the walked, then bashfully slipping back to sea again.
Susan found herself telling Brad about her life. Her adventurous dreams as a young girl and the workaholic she had become.
Pointing to a U-shaped cove that rose from the back of the beach, Susan said, "In that cove right there." she wiggled her finger for emphasis, "Is where we used to have some pretty wild beach parties when I was a teenager. He studied the cove as they walked passed it and then pointed in the opposite direction at the sea.
"See how much we have in common?" he said. "Right out there, in that pounding surf - " then swung his arm around and pointed at the cove. "In front of this very cove" he said with exaggerated enthusiasm, "in which you got rowdy, is where I used to surf when I was a kid."
They laughed as if it gave them some connection from a past covered in the dust of memories, a feeling that they unknowingly shared began to grow and warm within each of them.
As the white light of the sun began to fade into gold, it stretched shadows from trees like soft taffy. The hovering fog bank on the distant horizon of sea captured the parting light in reds and golds. They sat in the dry sand just beyond the waters grasp and watched the sun blaze into the fog bank, its light giving up the eastern sky to the first twinkling of stars.
"Manny's is just up the street." Brad said casually, still looking at the sunset, his forearms dangling over his knees.
"Are you inviting me to dinner, sailor?" she asked teasingly.
He let out a short laugh, "Do you think you found your sailor?" He asked.
"No." she said. "I think I found something better."
Brad hadn't thought that something was missing from his life. He had simply been too busy, and the life he had led the last twenty years wasn't really conducive to family life. He went through rehab after the bullet tore through his leg. When he came home, he went to work fixing the place back up again, as it hadn't been occupied in a while. He stayed busy.
Sometimes you can be missing something and not know it, not have a name for it. It just presents itself as a feeling with no words attached to it. Brad realized that was what happened to him. Susan seemed to fill a void he didn't even know existed. It had been there for so long that it was like a constant squeak in an old car that you get used to and stop hearing.
They both turned and looked into each others eyes, both reaching to the others face as they embraced in a tender kiss.
He pulled back and said, "If you think I'm better than what you were looking for, I can only hope that you're a good judge of character."
She smiled, "You're a character, all right."
- - - - -
Susan followed Brad in her Honda the few blocks from Rio Del Mar beach to Manny's. He found two parking spaces on the side street next to the restaurant and pulled up far enough for Susan to park behind him.
Manny's sat back in the shadows from the corner, where a gas station reigned brightly A neighborhood of houses filled the streets between Manny's and the beach. It was a dark building with warm, soft light filtering through the front windows. As they entered the smell sang through the air a song of wonderful food. A small bar with high stools wrapped to the left of the door. It was usually filled with people waiting for a table, but on this night there were two people at the bar who looked in no hurry to get a table. The room was dark wood, the floor two-tiered, the higher tier commanding the back third of the room. Both levels held tables with laced metal candle holders in the center of each table. Pools of amber from the candles warmed each table. Three men in traditional Mexican dress with large sombreros wandered around the room singing in Spanish while playing very large guitars.
Brad asked for a table in the back. "It's more intimate." Brad explained to Susan as the waitress led them to the rear of the room. It was also a good spot to view everybody that came in. He scanned the room's occupants as they were shown to their table and felt relieved to find nobody suspicious.
As they sat down a basket of warm tortilla chips and a bowl of salsa was placed in front of them. They ordered drinks and then discussed what was good on the menu as they waited for the waitress to return with a beer for Brad and a margarita for Susan.
Brad kept looking at her over the top of his menu as she concentrated on her choices. A day in the sun had given her color. She seemed to glow in the soft candle light. She glanced up at him, catching his gaze, a slight smile creased his mouth.
She smiled back. "What are you looking at, cowboy?"
"You." he said. "You look beautiful in candle light."
"Well, hold that picture." she said. "If you ever see me in the morning, you'll need it."
He laughed. "I don't scare easy."
"Good." she said returning to her menu. "We might make it then." She stopped reading and her eyes opened wide as she reflected on what she had just said. "I mean - - that probably didn't come out right. I mean - - ", she paused, her mind a blank as she searched for a way to twist the sentence into something less revealing, but revealing of what? It had just come out without thought.
"That's okay." Brad said, putting his hand on hers. "That didn't scare me either."
He could see that she felt uncomfortable. He did not allow a long silence to punctuate the moment. He started talking about some of the art they had spent time viewing at the art show that day, and went on about the things that they did. Susan relaxed and got into the conversation.
Brad could see the front door of the restaurant right over Susan's shoulder with just a slight shift of his eyes, which he did every time the door opened and someone walked in. They were half way through their meal when a couple walked in. Brad's eyes made a slight glance, and then they locked on to the couple. The lady had short blond hair and the man wore a baseball cap backwards on his head. They both wore black leather jackets, though it wasn't particularly cold out yet, and wouldn't be until the fog rolled in late in the night. They both wore loose jeans and running shoes, leaving them dressed for fast movement. Though her hair was different, Brad had no doubt that it was the same couple that he had seen at the art show that looked suspicious.
Santa Cruz and the little coastal villages that nestle up against it do not take up a lot of room. It isn't really surprising to see someone at a restaurant in Aptos that you might have seen at any of the beaches or events that take place in any of the surrounding towns, but this couple had looked suspicious before, and now he was certain that they could be a problem.
As the couple waited to be seated they scanned the room and then focused on the upper tier where Brad and Susan sat. As the man's gaze slowly swept across the tables, his head froze for a second as he crossed Brad's face and the back of Susan's head, and then continued on. All the tables on the upper tier were full. Brad was sure he was asking the waitress to be seated there. He pointed at a table on the lower tier that gave direct view of Brad and Susan, and slipped a fold of money into the waitresses hand. She glanced at her hand and immediately seated the couple at the table the man pointed to. The man sat at a chair that gave him a clear view of Brad and Susan's table.
Brad picked up the conversation with Susan, not looking at the surveillance couple again, but keeping them in his periphery vision.
Susan was telling Brad what a wonderful day she had when she suddenly said, "You have a distracted look on your face. Is something bothering you?"
"Oh, I'm sorry." Brad said focusing on her more, the glaze of thought clearing from his eyes. "I have a project I have to do, and it took over my mind."
The waitress came back and Brad paid the bill, requesting two coffees.
When the Mexican band finished a song at the table next to them, Brad cheerfully called them over to his table and handed one of the musician three ten dollar bills and said in Spanish, "Don't look, but there's a couple sitting up towards the front of the restaurant. She has short blond hair and her back is to us. They just got married, old friends of mine and I want to surprise them. I'd like you guys to go down and sing them a couple of songs, but I want you to stand directly between us, so that he doesn't see me, because he will know that I sent you."
"You don't want him to know that?" the man holding the money asked, sweeping back his mustache with his hand.
"No." Brad said. "I want it to be a mystery - a surprise."
"Si Senor." He said pocketing the money. "Gracia's."
The three men started strumming their guitars, singing in unison as they casually descended the steps to the lower level.
Brad turned to Susan as the musicians left and said, "We're going to leave in a moment, so get everything you want to take gathered, because we're going to leave fast."
"Oh, no." she said as concern swept her face. "Don't tell me the goon is back." She didn't turn to look, as if she instinctively knew better.
"No, but I think some friends of his have joined us."
"I assume that pensive expression on your face, and you not listening to me was you noticing them and figuring out what to do."
"Beautiful and smart." he said, emphasizing 'and'. "So, here's what's happening. In just a moment, those three guys are going to block their view of us, at which time we are going to go through that hall you see on your right and down the stairs, which leads to the rear of the kitchen and a back door.
"Our tails think that we don't even know that they're there."
"Well, they're right." Susan remarked. "I didn't know they were there until right now."
"They're in the middle of their dinner." Brad said, smiling at her seductively and holding her hands, "and we don't look like we're going anywhere. They're watching us, but not as much as they were before they got their dinner. As soon as the musicians block their view, we move.
"They can't just get up and run out of here without paying. The doorman and the bartender look like a couple of tackles and will stop them if they don't pay, so we should have a couple of minutes head start on them."
"You know, Brad." Susan said with a slight look of worry, "I sure hope that your not delusional."
"Our first disagreement." Brad said. "I'm hoping that I am delusional, but let's not take any chances."
"Do you think we're in danger?" she asked, an expression of concern on her face.
"Not yet." he said casually, "And I want to keep it that way."
He glanced over her shoulder again. The Mexican band was just coming up to the tail's table. The man looked at the band with surprise, glanced up at Brad and then to the blond. As the band blocked their view of Brad and Susan, Brad said, "Now, and stay right behind me. I know this place."
They rose from the table and moved quickly, but not so quickly as to be obvious, and went straight into the hall at the side of the room.
"Follow me." Brad said as they came up to the back of the Honda. "Wait a minute." he said as he came to a stop. "I didn't spot a tail. How did they find us?" Brad looked at Susan, then at her car. He dropped to his hands and knees and looked under her car. "I think I see it." He said, reaching far under the bumper, grunting as he yanked on something. As he came to his feet he opened his hand and showed Susan a small box with a blinking red light.
"What is that?" Susan asked
"Tracking device. Where ever this device goes, they know where it is." Brad glanced at the restaurant. The tail couple had not come out yet.
"This isn't quite how I was hoping we would finish our dinner." Brad said. He took her in his arms and gave her a quick kiss. "I was thinking more along that line, but as it is, let's get the hell out of here while we can. Follow me."
"To where?" she asked.
"We really don't have a lot of time to discuss this at the moment." he paused in a moment of thought. "My house. We'll go to my house. They don't know exactly where that is, and that's my territory, but I'm making a diversion first, so just follow me." Before she could say another word, Brad was in the Land Rover. She rushed back to the Honda, following close behind as Brad took off down the street towards the beach.
- - - - - -
The man with the turned around baseball cap kept trying to look around the three man band, but they stayed close together, creating a solid wall. He threw his napkin down and stood, trying to see over the musicians heads, but the sombreros, moving with the music, distorted what he saw in the dim light. People moved about, getting up and sitting down, waitresses rushing in between tables.
The man lost all sense of subtle decor and rushed pass the musicians, looking up at the table where Brad and Susan had sat.
"Come on." he said to the woman. She jumped up and they ran towards the door, only to be met by a 250 pound linebacker with a Golds Gym t-shirt stretching across his biceps.
"Hey there, pal, you still have to pay the bill even if you don't finish the meal." He said in a friendly tone with an edge on it.
"What!!" the man said as if surprised by the concept of payment. "Oh. All right." he said irritably. "Give me the damned bill."
The linebacker looked at the man with an eye of assessment. Still looking at him, he said to the bartender, who was standing to the side, "Give this man his bill."
It's going to take a minute." The bartender responded.
"Oh, the hell with it." the tail said. He pulled a wad of money out of his pocket, peeled off a hundred dollar bill and handed it to the man. "Here. That more than pays the bill. Keep the change."
They rushed out the door, running down to the corner, turning left where they knew the Honda was parked. It was gone. Their car was a half block away. They ran to it, got in and the woman opened a computer, bringing up a glowing map with a red dot blinking at the other edge of the neighborhood next to the beach. "Got her." she said.
All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
The sky smiled a deep blue and the sea laughed against the shore in foaming waves. Brad had removed his cowboy boots and rolled his Levi's to his knees. Susan swung her sandals from a strap that dangled from her fingers. They walked on the cool wet sand at the waters edge, a sliver of ocean bubbling at their feet as the walked, then bashfully slipping back to sea again.
Susan found herself telling Brad about her life. Her adventurous dreams as a young girl and the workaholic she had become.
Pointing to a U-shaped cove that rose from the back of the beach, Susan said, "In that cove right there." she wiggled her finger for emphasis, "Is where we used to have some pretty wild beach parties when I was a teenager. He studied the cove as they walked passed it and then pointed in the opposite direction at the sea.
"See how much we have in common?" he said. "Right out there, in that pounding surf - " then swung his arm around and pointed at the cove. "In front of this very cove" he said with exaggerated enthusiasm, "in which you got rowdy, is where I used to surf when I was a kid."
They laughed as if it gave them some connection from a past covered in the dust of memories, a feeling that they unknowingly shared began to grow and warm within each of them.
As the white light of the sun began to fade into gold, it stretched shadows from trees like soft taffy. The hovering fog bank on the distant horizon of sea captured the parting light in reds and golds. They sat in the dry sand just beyond the waters grasp and watched the sun blaze into the fog bank, its light giving up the eastern sky to the first twinkling of stars.
"Manny's is just up the street." Brad said casually, still looking at the sunset, his forearms dangling over his knees.
"Are you inviting me to dinner, sailor?" she asked teasingly.
He let out a short laugh, "Do you think you found your sailor?" He asked.
"No." she said. "I think I found something better."
Brad hadn't thought that something was missing from his life. He had simply been too busy, and the life he had led the last twenty years wasn't really conducive to family life. He went through rehab after the bullet tore through his leg. When he came home, he went to work fixing the place back up again, as it hadn't been occupied in a while. He stayed busy.
Sometimes you can be missing something and not know it, not have a name for it. It just presents itself as a feeling with no words attached to it. Brad realized that was what happened to him. Susan seemed to fill a void he didn't even know existed. It had been there for so long that it was like a constant squeak in an old car that you get used to and stop hearing.
They both turned and looked into each others eyes, both reaching to the others face as they embraced in a tender kiss.
He pulled back and said, "If you think I'm better than what you were looking for, I can only hope that you're a good judge of character."
She smiled, "You're a character, all right."
- - - - -
Susan followed Brad in her Honda the few blocks from Rio Del Mar beach to Manny's. He found two parking spaces on the side street next to the restaurant and pulled up far enough for Susan to park behind him.
Manny's sat back in the shadows from the corner, where a gas station reigned brightly A neighborhood of houses filled the streets between Manny's and the beach. It was a dark building with warm, soft light filtering through the front windows. As they entered the smell sang through the air a song of wonderful food. A small bar with high stools wrapped to the left of the door. It was usually filled with people waiting for a table, but on this night there were two people at the bar who looked in no hurry to get a table. The room was dark wood, the floor two-tiered, the higher tier commanding the back third of the room. Both levels held tables with laced metal candle holders in the center of each table. Pools of amber from the candles warmed each table. Three men in traditional Mexican dress with large sombreros wandered around the room singing in Spanish while playing very large guitars.
Brad asked for a table in the back. "It's more intimate." Brad explained to Susan as the waitress led them to the rear of the room. It was also a good spot to view everybody that came in. He scanned the room's occupants as they were shown to their table and felt relieved to find nobody suspicious.
As they sat down a basket of warm tortilla chips and a bowl of salsa was placed in front of them. They ordered drinks and then discussed what was good on the menu as they waited for the waitress to return with a beer for Brad and a margarita for Susan.
Brad kept looking at her over the top of his menu as she concentrated on her choices. A day in the sun had given her color. She seemed to glow in the soft candle light. She glanced up at him, catching his gaze, a slight smile creased his mouth.
She smiled back. "What are you looking at, cowboy?"
"You." he said. "You look beautiful in candle light."
"Well, hold that picture." she said. "If you ever see me in the morning, you'll need it."
He laughed. "I don't scare easy."
"Good." she said returning to her menu. "We might make it then." She stopped reading and her eyes opened wide as she reflected on what she had just said. "I mean - - that probably didn't come out right. I mean - - ", she paused, her mind a blank as she searched for a way to twist the sentence into something less revealing, but revealing of what? It had just come out without thought.
"That's okay." Brad said, putting his hand on hers. "That didn't scare me either."
He could see that she felt uncomfortable. He did not allow a long silence to punctuate the moment. He started talking about some of the art they had spent time viewing at the art show that day, and went on about the things that they did. Susan relaxed and got into the conversation.
Brad could see the front door of the restaurant right over Susan's shoulder with just a slight shift of his eyes, which he did every time the door opened and someone walked in. They were half way through their meal when a couple walked in. Brad's eyes made a slight glance, and then they locked on to the couple. The lady had short blond hair and the man wore a baseball cap backwards on his head. They both wore black leather jackets, though it wasn't particularly cold out yet, and wouldn't be until the fog rolled in late in the night. They both wore loose jeans and running shoes, leaving them dressed for fast movement. Though her hair was different, Brad had no doubt that it was the same couple that he had seen at the art show that looked suspicious.
Santa Cruz and the little coastal villages that nestle up against it do not take up a lot of room. It isn't really surprising to see someone at a restaurant in Aptos that you might have seen at any of the beaches or events that take place in any of the surrounding towns, but this couple had looked suspicious before, and now he was certain that they could be a problem.
As the couple waited to be seated they scanned the room and then focused on the upper tier where Brad and Susan sat. As the man's gaze slowly swept across the tables, his head froze for a second as he crossed Brad's face and the back of Susan's head, and then continued on. All the tables on the upper tier were full. Brad was sure he was asking the waitress to be seated there. He pointed at a table on the lower tier that gave direct view of Brad and Susan, and slipped a fold of money into the waitresses hand. She glanced at her hand and immediately seated the couple at the table the man pointed to. The man sat at a chair that gave him a clear view of Brad and Susan's table.
Brad picked up the conversation with Susan, not looking at the surveillance couple again, but keeping them in his periphery vision.
Susan was telling Brad what a wonderful day she had when she suddenly said, "You have a distracted look on your face. Is something bothering you?"
"Oh, I'm sorry." Brad said focusing on her more, the glaze of thought clearing from his eyes. "I have a project I have to do, and it took over my mind."
The waitress came back and Brad paid the bill, requesting two coffees.
When the Mexican band finished a song at the table next to them, Brad cheerfully called them over to his table and handed one of the musician three ten dollar bills and said in Spanish, "Don't look, but there's a couple sitting up towards the front of the restaurant. She has short blond hair and her back is to us. They just got married, old friends of mine and I want to surprise them. I'd like you guys to go down and sing them a couple of songs, but I want you to stand directly between us, so that he doesn't see me, because he will know that I sent you."
"You don't want him to know that?" the man holding the money asked, sweeping back his mustache with his hand.
"No." Brad said. "I want it to be a mystery - a surprise."
"Si Senor." He said pocketing the money. "Gracia's."
The three men started strumming their guitars, singing in unison as they casually descended the steps to the lower level.
Brad turned to Susan as the musicians left and said, "We're going to leave in a moment, so get everything you want to take gathered, because we're going to leave fast."
"Oh, no." she said as concern swept her face. "Don't tell me the goon is back." She didn't turn to look, as if she instinctively knew better.
"No, but I think some friends of his have joined us."
"I assume that pensive expression on your face, and you not listening to me was you noticing them and figuring out what to do."
"Beautiful and smart." he said, emphasizing 'and'. "So, here's what's happening. In just a moment, those three guys are going to block their view of us, at which time we are going to go through that hall you see on your right and down the stairs, which leads to the rear of the kitchen and a back door.
"Our tails think that we don't even know that they're there."
"Well, they're right." Susan remarked. "I didn't know they were there until right now."
"They're in the middle of their dinner." Brad said, smiling at her seductively and holding her hands, "and we don't look like we're going anywhere. They're watching us, but not as much as they were before they got their dinner. As soon as the musicians block their view, we move.
"They can't just get up and run out of here without paying. The doorman and the bartender look like a couple of tackles and will stop them if they don't pay, so we should have a couple of minutes head start on them."
"You know, Brad." Susan said with a slight look of worry, "I sure hope that your not delusional."
"Our first disagreement." Brad said. "I'm hoping that I am delusional, but let's not take any chances."
"Do you think we're in danger?" she asked, an expression of concern on her face.
"Not yet." he said casually, "And I want to keep it that way."
He glanced over her shoulder again. The Mexican band was just coming up to the tail's table. The man looked at the band with surprise, glanced up at Brad and then to the blond. As the band blocked their view of Brad and Susan, Brad said, "Now, and stay right behind me. I know this place."
They rose from the table and moved quickly, but not so quickly as to be obvious, and went straight into the hall at the side of the room.
"Follow me." Brad said as they came up to the back of the Honda. "Wait a minute." he said as he came to a stop. "I didn't spot a tail. How did they find us?" Brad looked at Susan, then at her car. He dropped to his hands and knees and looked under her car. "I think I see it." He said, reaching far under the bumper, grunting as he yanked on something. As he came to his feet he opened his hand and showed Susan a small box with a blinking red light.
"What is that?" Susan asked
"Tracking device. Where ever this device goes, they know where it is." Brad glanced at the restaurant. The tail couple had not come out yet.
"This isn't quite how I was hoping we would finish our dinner." Brad said. He took her in his arms and gave her a quick kiss. "I was thinking more along that line, but as it is, let's get the hell out of here while we can. Follow me."
"To where?" she asked.
"We really don't have a lot of time to discuss this at the moment." he paused in a moment of thought. "My house. We'll go to my house. They don't know exactly where that is, and that's my territory, but I'm making a diversion first, so just follow me." Before she could say another word, Brad was in the Land Rover. She rushed back to the Honda, following close behind as Brad took off down the street towards the beach.
- - - - - -
The man with the turned around baseball cap kept trying to look around the three man band, but they stayed close together, creating a solid wall. He threw his napkin down and stood, trying to see over the musicians heads, but the sombreros, moving with the music, distorted what he saw in the dim light. People moved about, getting up and sitting down, waitresses rushing in between tables.
The man lost all sense of subtle decor and rushed pass the musicians, looking up at the table where Brad and Susan had sat.
"Come on." he said to the woman. She jumped up and they ran towards the door, only to be met by a 250 pound linebacker with a Golds Gym t-shirt stretching across his biceps.
"Hey there, pal, you still have to pay the bill even if you don't finish the meal." He said in a friendly tone with an edge on it.
"What!!" the man said as if surprised by the concept of payment. "Oh. All right." he said irritably. "Give me the damned bill."
The linebacker looked at the man with an eye of assessment. Still looking at him, he said to the bartender, who was standing to the side, "Give this man his bill."
It's going to take a minute." The bartender responded.
"Oh, the hell with it." the tail said. He pulled a wad of money out of his pocket, peeled off a hundred dollar bill and handed it to the man. "Here. That more than pays the bill. Keep the change."
They rushed out the door, running down to the corner, turning left where they knew the Honda was parked. It was gone. Their car was a half block away. They ran to it, got in and the woman opened a computer, bringing up a glowing map with a red dot blinking at the other edge of the neighborhood next to the beach. "Got her." she said.
All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Day at the beach Ch 6
Chapter 6
As they walked out of the coffee shop Susan noticed that a breeze had thinned the thick clouds, the summer sun devouring the droplets as it reclaimed the sky. She inhaled deeply the ocean scent and picked the sound of waves sizzling into the sand from that of children laughing, people talking as they walked on the beach.
"Do you like art?" Brad asked as they walked, looking out across the beach at the fog bank retreating to the horizon.
"Yes." Susan responded.
"Well, there's an art show at San Lorenzo Park. Would you like to check it out?"
"Sure."She said cheerfully.
San Lorenzo Park was just a short distance. Everything in Santa Cruz county is just a short distance. Five minutes after getting into the Land Rover they were at the park.
San Lorenzo Park is a long expanse of lawn shaded by old oak trees. The Park carpets the east side of the San Lorenzo River. Even with the art show running down the center of the Park in two rows of white tents, there was still plenty of room around the show for the normal daily activities of people throwing frisbies, dogs chasing them, or sticks being thrown for them. Opposite to the river side of the Park, families spread blankets and placed plates of food from baskets on them under the shade of the trees. Even with the activity, the crowd was lite. Tomorrow would be Saturday, and the place will be packed over the weekend.
Brad and Susan slowly meandered down the center of the aisle, inspecting the handcrafted wares inside the tents. Susan lingered at the jewelery booths, Brad appeared to casually look around with his hands stuffed in his pockets as Susan made comments to him about the craftsmanship of the items she was looking at. Brad would look at what she was showing him and he would comment on it, then casually glance around again as if he was looking at the other displays, but he was looking at the people.
Across the aisle he noticed a man also looking around while his wife inspected some metal work. Their eyes met for a split second before the man continued to move his gaze down the row of tents. What Brad noticed was the man's eyes seem to catch on Brad's before he moved on, studying the tents beyond where Brad and Susan stood. Brad registered the man's face and body build, sharp features, short brown hair, almost military looking, athletic built, stood about the same height as Brad, 6' 2", about the same weight too, 210 pounds. The man's eyes were dark - intense, not the look you would expect from a person casually walking through an art show with his wife. Brad studied her for a moment also. She was bent over, her right side in Brad's view. She had long, black hair, which could easily be a wig. She wore jeans, sandles, and , like the man with her, a loose shirt, which could easily conceal a small caliber weapon.
As Brad continued to observe people, he kept the couple in his periphery vision, waiting for the woman to face him so he could register her face in his mind. Eventually she stood, turned and walked out of the tent. Brad glanced in her direction, her eyes meeting his. She immediately turned to the man next to her and started talking. As they walked down the aisle a couple of booths, they turned into another one, never looking back at Brad.
'It could be nothing.' Brad thought, but his training and experience told him that it was something. He was pretty sure the couple was a tail. It was subtlties in their movements, but mostly it was the look in their eyes. Their movements were of a couple having a casual day at the Park, but their eyes were those of a couple with a purpose. It was just a glance. Just a moment of thinking they had been made, their eyes showing the slightest appearance of surprise before cloaking over again into the seriousness of the job. Brad spotted it. They might have been pros, but so was he and they didn't know that.
As Brad and Susan resumed their tour, slowly walking down the aisle, she looked at Brad and smiled, then put a hand on his forearm and tucked her arm through his.
"This is really nice." she said.
"What's nice?"
"Well. Everything." She released her hand from his forearm and waved it to the sky. "The sun came out and it's a beautiful day. This Park is charming, the art show is fun, and I'm enjoying your company."
Brad realized he was enjoying his self too. He glanced up at the sky, not really noticing before, as Susan seemed brighter than the sun. He looked around the Park for the first time, rather than assessing the people, he looked at the Park and decided it was a beautiful setting, but mostly he was enjoying Susan. He was enjoying the clean scent that he smelled when he stood close to her. Her stride was carefree and she moved her body as if she liked being in it. Her almond shaped green eyes sparkled with life when she looked at him, and her infectious laughter came easy. He liked it when she removed her sandles and spun around on the grass with the straps dangling from her fingers. He liked the way she looked in cut off levi's, how the muscles moved on her legs when she walked Yes, Brad was having a good time. He was enjoying her completely.
Getting two iced tea's from a food vendor booth, they walked in between two of the artist tents and went to the side of the park away from the show and sat on the grass in the dappled shade of an oak tree. They sat in comfortable silence, leaning back on their elbows, watching people having a summer afternoon, feeling the cool of the river swimming through the air.
"I came here for a reason today." Susan said as she laid back on the grass, stretching her arms over her head. "Today is my 30th birthday. I was in my office first thing this morning and had a revelation, sort of a re-evaluation of what's important in life. I realized that someday, when I'm an old lady, wearing purple, as the poem goes, and look back on my life, what kind of memories would I have. What I saw was disappointing. I came here today searching for a life that I once had, that I seemed to have invisioned and also left here, in Santa Cruz." She fell silent, her eyes closed, she listened to the russle of the leaves in the breeze, the sound of birds in a musical conversation, children calling to each other and laughing in the distance.
"How's that working out for you?" She heard Brad ask.
She opened her eyes and leaned on one elbow. "I don't know yet. What I thought might happen and what's really happening are worlds apart, but, sometimes what you're looking for comes dressed much differently than you expect." She paused in thought. "I'm staying open to the movements of the day.
"My dad used to tell me to always keep an open mind and not pass judgments. He said when ever I pass judgment I'm not allowing myself the fullness of the situation. I'm not learning all that I can from the scenario."
"Your dad sounds like a level headed man." Brad said.
"Was a level head man. My mother and he died a few months ago. " she said with a tinge of sadness.
"I'm sorry, Susan. Sounds like an accident."
"Yes. Well, that was the conclusion reached by the authorities. A gas line broke in their house and exploded. They were asleep when it happened, or at least it appeared that way, but I've always had troubles believing that. Dad kept everything in top shape. He was almost obsessive about repairs, and was a very good handyman." She paused and then shrugged her shoulders. "But, as much as that just doesn't sound right to me, I have no choice but to accept it. There just doesn't seem to be another option to what happened."
A red flag rose in Brad's mind. There was another option, he considered, thinking back to the goon that had confronted Susan earlier in the day. People are looking for Jeff, and they believe him to be alive. What ever they want him for, or from him, seemed to be big. If his where abouts brought them to a dead end, determination may have taken them to other avenues of finding him - his family. If they couldn't get the information out of the parents, their death would be a loud message. They would assume that Jeff would read the message, know that the exploding house was not an accident. They would wait for him to appear, and they would do it by watching his sister, the only family that he had left. Brad had a feeling that Susan was in much greater danger than she realized.
All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
As they walked out of the coffee shop Susan noticed that a breeze had thinned the thick clouds, the summer sun devouring the droplets as it reclaimed the sky. She inhaled deeply the ocean scent and picked the sound of waves sizzling into the sand from that of children laughing, people talking as they walked on the beach.
"Do you like art?" Brad asked as they walked, looking out across the beach at the fog bank retreating to the horizon.
"Yes." Susan responded.
"Well, there's an art show at San Lorenzo Park. Would you like to check it out?"
"Sure."She said cheerfully.
San Lorenzo Park was just a short distance. Everything in Santa Cruz county is just a short distance. Five minutes after getting into the Land Rover they were at the park.
San Lorenzo Park is a long expanse of lawn shaded by old oak trees. The Park carpets the east side of the San Lorenzo River. Even with the art show running down the center of the Park in two rows of white tents, there was still plenty of room around the show for the normal daily activities of people throwing frisbies, dogs chasing them, or sticks being thrown for them. Opposite to the river side of the Park, families spread blankets and placed plates of food from baskets on them under the shade of the trees. Even with the activity, the crowd was lite. Tomorrow would be Saturday, and the place will be packed over the weekend.
Brad and Susan slowly meandered down the center of the aisle, inspecting the handcrafted wares inside the tents. Susan lingered at the jewelery booths, Brad appeared to casually look around with his hands stuffed in his pockets as Susan made comments to him about the craftsmanship of the items she was looking at. Brad would look at what she was showing him and he would comment on it, then casually glance around again as if he was looking at the other displays, but he was looking at the people.
Across the aisle he noticed a man also looking around while his wife inspected some metal work. Their eyes met for a split second before the man continued to move his gaze down the row of tents. What Brad noticed was the man's eyes seem to catch on Brad's before he moved on, studying the tents beyond where Brad and Susan stood. Brad registered the man's face and body build, sharp features, short brown hair, almost military looking, athletic built, stood about the same height as Brad, 6' 2", about the same weight too, 210 pounds. The man's eyes were dark - intense, not the look you would expect from a person casually walking through an art show with his wife. Brad studied her for a moment also. She was bent over, her right side in Brad's view. She had long, black hair, which could easily be a wig. She wore jeans, sandles, and , like the man with her, a loose shirt, which could easily conceal a small caliber weapon.
As Brad continued to observe people, he kept the couple in his periphery vision, waiting for the woman to face him so he could register her face in his mind. Eventually she stood, turned and walked out of the tent. Brad glanced in her direction, her eyes meeting his. She immediately turned to the man next to her and started talking. As they walked down the aisle a couple of booths, they turned into another one, never looking back at Brad.
'It could be nothing.' Brad thought, but his training and experience told him that it was something. He was pretty sure the couple was a tail. It was subtlties in their movements, but mostly it was the look in their eyes. Their movements were of a couple having a casual day at the Park, but their eyes were those of a couple with a purpose. It was just a glance. Just a moment of thinking they had been made, their eyes showing the slightest appearance of surprise before cloaking over again into the seriousness of the job. Brad spotted it. They might have been pros, but so was he and they didn't know that.
As Brad and Susan resumed their tour, slowly walking down the aisle, she looked at Brad and smiled, then put a hand on his forearm and tucked her arm through his.
"This is really nice." she said.
"What's nice?"
"Well. Everything." She released her hand from his forearm and waved it to the sky. "The sun came out and it's a beautiful day. This Park is charming, the art show is fun, and I'm enjoying your company."
Brad realized he was enjoying his self too. He glanced up at the sky, not really noticing before, as Susan seemed brighter than the sun. He looked around the Park for the first time, rather than assessing the people, he looked at the Park and decided it was a beautiful setting, but mostly he was enjoying Susan. He was enjoying the clean scent that he smelled when he stood close to her. Her stride was carefree and she moved her body as if she liked being in it. Her almond shaped green eyes sparkled with life when she looked at him, and her infectious laughter came easy. He liked it when she removed her sandles and spun around on the grass with the straps dangling from her fingers. He liked the way she looked in cut off levi's, how the muscles moved on her legs when she walked Yes, Brad was having a good time. He was enjoying her completely.
Getting two iced tea's from a food vendor booth, they walked in between two of the artist tents and went to the side of the park away from the show and sat on the grass in the dappled shade of an oak tree. They sat in comfortable silence, leaning back on their elbows, watching people having a summer afternoon, feeling the cool of the river swimming through the air.
"I came here for a reason today." Susan said as she laid back on the grass, stretching her arms over her head. "Today is my 30th birthday. I was in my office first thing this morning and had a revelation, sort of a re-evaluation of what's important in life. I realized that someday, when I'm an old lady, wearing purple, as the poem goes, and look back on my life, what kind of memories would I have. What I saw was disappointing. I came here today searching for a life that I once had, that I seemed to have invisioned and also left here, in Santa Cruz." She fell silent, her eyes closed, she listened to the russle of the leaves in the breeze, the sound of birds in a musical conversation, children calling to each other and laughing in the distance.
"How's that working out for you?" She heard Brad ask.
She opened her eyes and leaned on one elbow. "I don't know yet. What I thought might happen and what's really happening are worlds apart, but, sometimes what you're looking for comes dressed much differently than you expect." She paused in thought. "I'm staying open to the movements of the day.
"My dad used to tell me to always keep an open mind and not pass judgments. He said when ever I pass judgment I'm not allowing myself the fullness of the situation. I'm not learning all that I can from the scenario."
"Your dad sounds like a level headed man." Brad said.
"Was a level head man. My mother and he died a few months ago. " she said with a tinge of sadness.
"I'm sorry, Susan. Sounds like an accident."
"Yes. Well, that was the conclusion reached by the authorities. A gas line broke in their house and exploded. They were asleep when it happened, or at least it appeared that way, but I've always had troubles believing that. Dad kept everything in top shape. He was almost obsessive about repairs, and was a very good handyman." She paused and then shrugged her shoulders. "But, as much as that just doesn't sound right to me, I have no choice but to accept it. There just doesn't seem to be another option to what happened."
A red flag rose in Brad's mind. There was another option, he considered, thinking back to the goon that had confronted Susan earlier in the day. People are looking for Jeff, and they believe him to be alive. What ever they want him for, or from him, seemed to be big. If his where abouts brought them to a dead end, determination may have taken them to other avenues of finding him - his family. If they couldn't get the information out of the parents, their death would be a loud message. They would assume that Jeff would read the message, know that the exploding house was not an accident. They would wait for him to appear, and they would do it by watching his sister, the only family that he had left. Brad had a feeling that Susan was in much greater danger than she realized.
All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Day at the beach Ch5
Chapter 5
Another mountain of clouds rolled across the sea, blanketing the land, blocking the hopeful sun from the day. Susan shivered as they climbed the stairs to the coffee shop. The shop was warm and inviting with its smell of fresh ground coffee beans and dark wooden walls and banisters. Norah Jones voice softly drifted through the room, singing the blues with a slight Billie Holiday inflection.
Susan sat at a table near the large window that overlooked the beach street while Brad collected their orders. People and cars moved on the street, disappearing in the mist as it cast the day in gray and offered a sense of mystery to an already mysterious morning.
"Would you like to share what's going on? Brad asked as he sat down across from her, placing two cups of foaming brew on the table.
She furrowed her head as she looked at him. 'More than anything, right now.' she thought. But this seemed way out of Brad's league - hers too. He was just a nice, helpful guy with whom she was having a cup of coffee. She felt attracted to Brad, and wasn't sure if she wanted to scare him away, and what she had just heard from the mystery man was a lot more luggage than she should probably share with him. She had to talk to some body, someone who could give her a clue what was going on, who could give her some objective input, but she didn't want to put him into any danger either . The thinly veiled threat to her was not idle. She knew it. She could see it in the mans eyes. She heard the contempt in his voice when he saw Brad, and she remember him saying, "I don't want to hurt him - not yet, anyway."
"That was the man in the Auston-Healey, wasn't it?" Brad asked.
"Yes." she said, her hand trembled slightly as she lifted the cup. She immediately put it back down. She decided to take a chance and tell Brad everything. He might decided this is too much and walk out the door, and if he did, she couldn't blame him, but she was feeling a little desperate, and Brad had seen this man. He was peripherally involved, and she hoped to keep it that way, but he also may offer some clarity to what at the moment is frightening.
She took a deep breath and related the conversation with the mystery man to Brad. Brad sat back in his chair and listened intently, offering no reaction in his expression.
When she finished they sat in silence, she watching Brad as he seemed to mull over what she had told him.
"It sounds like your brother may have been involved with some dangerous people." Brad said, and then paused, still in thought. "If they have been doing a surveillance on you for a period of time and you never noticed, it gives the appearance of professionals. What ever is going on, it doesn't sound like small time punks."
"I've drawn you into the radar just by stopping when you were working on the fence. I'm sorry, Brad. I had no idea that this was something more than just some weirdo following me."
He reached across the table and covered her hand in his put a large, "Don't worry about it." he said with a slight smile of understanding. "Let's assess the situation and see what you're dealing with by what we know."
"Huh!" she grunted. "We don't know anything."
"Well, let's see if we do." Brad said sitting back in his seat again. "If they're doing a surveillance, thinking you have contact with Jeff, then they have your phone tapped and your house bugged, or they have a surveillance van near by. With the right equipment, they can sit in the van and hear every conversation that you have in your house. They probably check your mail."
A look of surprise then worry crossed her face. "Oh, my God, do you think so?"
"Yes." he said matter-of-factly. "That would be the normal procedure for tracking a target. If you can't find a person, watch the people who usually can."
Susan look at him curiously. "How would you know these things?" she asked.
He smiled at her. "I haven't always just fixed fences."
"Were you a cop?" she asked.
"Let's say I used to work for the government, and, at times, had to work in this kind of field." She waited, but he offered no more information about his work.
She pressed her hands to her head, elbows on the table, as if she was trying to keep her head from exploding. "I don't know what to do." she said. "I'll admit that I'm scared. I don't know anything about Jeff's life, and I'm sure that he's dead, but that man doesn't believe me, and I think that he's dangerous."
Brad had no doubt that the man was dangerous. he suspected drugs or arms were involved, and the kind of people who lived in that world were very dangerous.
"I think he was trying to shake you up." Brad said. "He wants you to panic and contact Jeff so they can trace him."
"Yeah, well, there are no phones at the bottom of the Pacific." she said.
"What the man you spoke to believes, and what his handlers believe, makes your claims moot in their eyes. If this is as serious as it sounds, they will continue to take it another step further until Jeff shows his self."
"This is just crazy." Susan said in frustration.
"Yes." Brad said. "You're getting a glimpse of just how crazy the underbelly of life really is."
A look of worry crossed her face, and Brad regreted his remark of confirmation.
"I don't have much to do." Brad said. "The horses are fed, the cattle content, and my Labrador Retriever is probably snoring on the front porch, overseeing his domain, making sure the cattle and horses don't have any wild parties while I'm gone. I could use a day at the beach with a lovely lady. Would you mind if I joined you today?"
She frowned. "I'm not even so sure that this was a good idea, me coming here today. I did it on a knee jerk whim, and look at the mess I find myself in, I don't think it's a good idea to involve you. I don't know what's going to happen."
"Which is a perfectly good reason to spend the day with me." he responded.
"This doesn't seem to bother you at all." She looked at him for a moment. "What did you do before you were mending fences?"
He took a sip of his espresso and looked at her as if he was debating what to say.
"Okay." he said, sitting up straight. "I'll give you the summarized version. I was an officer in the Special Forces who did clandestine work in CIA Special Ops. I have a Ph.D. in psychology and am certified in guerrilla warfare operations. I was recently wounded in a capture or terminate mission in the middle east and was retired as a major."
Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened, and then she burst out laughing. "Oh, Brad, you are so sweet." she said grabbing his hand into hers. "I'm sure just your presence would discourage any body doing anything. You don't have to be all of - whatever you just said - Special CIA, whatever." She giggled again at what she saw as his efforts to give her comfort and a sense of safety.
He returned her smile. Then, we've got a date?"
"Sure." she said. "We've got a date. Our day at the beach."
All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
Another mountain of clouds rolled across the sea, blanketing the land, blocking the hopeful sun from the day. Susan shivered as they climbed the stairs to the coffee shop. The shop was warm and inviting with its smell of fresh ground coffee beans and dark wooden walls and banisters. Norah Jones voice softly drifted through the room, singing the blues with a slight Billie Holiday inflection.
Susan sat at a table near the large window that overlooked the beach street while Brad collected their orders. People and cars moved on the street, disappearing in the mist as it cast the day in gray and offered a sense of mystery to an already mysterious morning.
"Would you like to share what's going on? Brad asked as he sat down across from her, placing two cups of foaming brew on the table.
She furrowed her head as she looked at him. 'More than anything, right now.' she thought. But this seemed way out of Brad's league - hers too. He was just a nice, helpful guy with whom she was having a cup of coffee. She felt attracted to Brad, and wasn't sure if she wanted to scare him away, and what she had just heard from the mystery man was a lot more luggage than she should probably share with him. She had to talk to some body, someone who could give her a clue what was going on, who could give her some objective input, but she didn't want to put him into any danger either . The thinly veiled threat to her was not idle. She knew it. She could see it in the mans eyes. She heard the contempt in his voice when he saw Brad, and she remember him saying, "I don't want to hurt him - not yet, anyway."
"That was the man in the Auston-Healey, wasn't it?" Brad asked.
"Yes." she said, her hand trembled slightly as she lifted the cup. She immediately put it back down. She decided to take a chance and tell Brad everything. He might decided this is too much and walk out the door, and if he did, she couldn't blame him, but she was feeling a little desperate, and Brad had seen this man. He was peripherally involved, and she hoped to keep it that way, but he also may offer some clarity to what at the moment is frightening.
She took a deep breath and related the conversation with the mystery man to Brad. Brad sat back in his chair and listened intently, offering no reaction in his expression.
When she finished they sat in silence, she watching Brad as he seemed to mull over what she had told him.
"It sounds like your brother may have been involved with some dangerous people." Brad said, and then paused, still in thought. "If they have been doing a surveillance on you for a period of time and you never noticed, it gives the appearance of professionals. What ever is going on, it doesn't sound like small time punks."
"I've drawn you into the radar just by stopping when you were working on the fence. I'm sorry, Brad. I had no idea that this was something more than just some weirdo following me."
He reached across the table and covered her hand in his put a large, "Don't worry about it." he said with a slight smile of understanding. "Let's assess the situation and see what you're dealing with by what we know."
"Huh!" she grunted. "We don't know anything."
"Well, let's see if we do." Brad said sitting back in his seat again. "If they're doing a surveillance, thinking you have contact with Jeff, then they have your phone tapped and your house bugged, or they have a surveillance van near by. With the right equipment, they can sit in the van and hear every conversation that you have in your house. They probably check your mail."
A look of surprise then worry crossed her face. "Oh, my God, do you think so?"
"Yes." he said matter-of-factly. "That would be the normal procedure for tracking a target. If you can't find a person, watch the people who usually can."
Susan look at him curiously. "How would you know these things?" she asked.
He smiled at her. "I haven't always just fixed fences."
"Were you a cop?" she asked.
"Let's say I used to work for the government, and, at times, had to work in this kind of field." She waited, but he offered no more information about his work.
She pressed her hands to her head, elbows on the table, as if she was trying to keep her head from exploding. "I don't know what to do." she said. "I'll admit that I'm scared. I don't know anything about Jeff's life, and I'm sure that he's dead, but that man doesn't believe me, and I think that he's dangerous."
Brad had no doubt that the man was dangerous. he suspected drugs or arms were involved, and the kind of people who lived in that world were very dangerous.
"I think he was trying to shake you up." Brad said. "He wants you to panic and contact Jeff so they can trace him."
"Yeah, well, there are no phones at the bottom of the Pacific." she said.
"What the man you spoke to believes, and what his handlers believe, makes your claims moot in their eyes. If this is as serious as it sounds, they will continue to take it another step further until Jeff shows his self."
"This is just crazy." Susan said in frustration.
"Yes." Brad said. "You're getting a glimpse of just how crazy the underbelly of life really is."
A look of worry crossed her face, and Brad regreted his remark of confirmation.
"I don't have much to do." Brad said. "The horses are fed, the cattle content, and my Labrador Retriever is probably snoring on the front porch, overseeing his domain, making sure the cattle and horses don't have any wild parties while I'm gone. I could use a day at the beach with a lovely lady. Would you mind if I joined you today?"
She frowned. "I'm not even so sure that this was a good idea, me coming here today. I did it on a knee jerk whim, and look at the mess I find myself in, I don't think it's a good idea to involve you. I don't know what's going to happen."
"Which is a perfectly good reason to spend the day with me." he responded.
"This doesn't seem to bother you at all." She looked at him for a moment. "What did you do before you were mending fences?"
He took a sip of his espresso and looked at her as if he was debating what to say.
"Okay." he said, sitting up straight. "I'll give you the summarized version. I was an officer in the Special Forces who did clandestine work in CIA Special Ops. I have a Ph.D. in psychology and am certified in guerrilla warfare operations. I was recently wounded in a capture or terminate mission in the middle east and was retired as a major."
Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened, and then she burst out laughing. "Oh, Brad, you are so sweet." she said grabbing his hand into hers. "I'm sure just your presence would discourage any body doing anything. You don't have to be all of - whatever you just said - Special CIA, whatever." She giggled again at what she saw as his efforts to give her comfort and a sense of safety.
He returned her smile. Then, we've got a date?"
"Sure." she said. "We've got a date. Our day at the beach."
All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Day at the beach Ch 4
Chapter 4
Susan was mulling over what she was doing on this day, which so far had been completely out of character for her. She wasn't sure if she was running to or from something, and was not even sure what that something was. A cynical element in her mind suggested that she was trying to run from 30 back to 18 years old again. But she discarded that thought. That scenario may have triggered her reaction - her 'awakening', as her life to this point spread itself out before her with a vivid clarity. What she saw was how narrow her focus had become. There was more to her. There was more to life. What ever it was it slumbered in the darkest basements of her existence, and she wanted to awaken it, feel what it is, reinvent herself and be part of the adventure.
As Susan entered the Village of Soquel through the back door road, the edge of a fog bank fuzzed the sun that held the cool clouds at bay from venturing any further inland. At the moment gray weather ruled the coastal day, but Susan knew that the sun could easily cook the earth clinging clouds away by early afternoon.
She quickly passed through Soquel and found a parking spot close to the knee high cement wall that separated the village of Capitola from the beach. It didn't seem cold, but she grabbed a sweater from the back seat anyway and wandered down the sidewalk next to the wall until she found a wide area empty of people. She sat down on the wide top of the wall, pulled her legs under her chin with her arms wrapped around her knees and stared out across the expanse of sand at the still water lapping gently on the beach. A group of teenager in shorts played volley ball as if it was a sunny day. Others sat huddled on blankets waiting for the sun to appear as if it was late for a concert.
"Here you are." she heard a male voice behind her. She turned and stared for a split second at the grinning man behind her before she recognized him. He was big - about 6' 4", Thick shoulder and muscular arms in a tank top, which showed off a slight beer belly. He had dirty blond hair, chiseled features and the cold, blue eyes of a person who probably tortured small animals when he was a kid. Her heart jumped as she realized it was the man with the Auston-Healey.
Though her heart was pounding, she quickly masked her surprise with a look of composure, but not quick enough. He saw her shock, giving him a subtle feeling of power within the moment.
"I don't know what your problem is." Susan said with a tinge of poison in her tone, "but I don't want anything to do with you and I want you to go away and leave me alone."
The man's chuckle held venom rather than joy. "Ah, come on now. I saw you with that hippie back on Soquel. Is that as good as you can do? You probably couldn't handle a real man like me. I've got a very big cock."
Susan spit out a laugh of disgust. "Oh, brother." she said. "I'm sorry, asshole, but I think you have mistaken me for the type of airhead bimbo that I'm sure you're used to. I've got an M.A. from Stanford, top of my class. I need something a little more cerebral than a big dick to impress me, and I'm pretty sure you're very small in that area. Now get the hell away from me."
This time he threw his head back and laughed, then looked down at her with his cold eyes, his smile thinning to a straight line. "Okay, enough play time, Susan. Time to get down to business."
This time Susan could not hide the shock on her face. "How did you know my name?"
"Well, Susan Jenkins, I know a lot about you. I already knew you went to Stanford, and I knew you would be a snooty bitch too, but that's irrelevant to our business.
"I've got to tell you though, Susan, you lead one boring life. At least I thought you did until today. The boyfriend was a new element. He didn't come up at all in my research."
Her mouth dropped in astonishment. "You've been researching my life? Who are you? Why are you doing this?"
"I've been tailing you for two weeks. You go to work, go to the gym, go home. I've never seen such a boring life." He paused. "But, since I'm not getting what I want, and I'm tired to waiting, I decided it was time we met."
"Want?" she asked in confusion. "What is it you want?"
"Jeff." he said simply.
Now she was really confused. The only Jeff she could think of was her brother, and he had died at sea three years ago.
"I don't know anybody named Jeff." She said.
"Now, don't go telling me lies, Susan. That could be very unhealthy." he said softly.
"I'm not telling you lies. The only Jeff I can think of is my brother, and he died three years ago."
"Yeah, right." he said with a chuckle. "He took a sail boat out of the harbor and never came back."
"That's right." she said defiantly. "Pieces of his boat washed up on shore. There is no other conclusion one can reach in the face of the evidence."
"You're wrong about that, little Miss M.A. from Stanford. Another conclusion is that he took the boat out to sea, was met by someone else and he blew the boat up to give the appearance of death at sea. That's the conclusion that my bosses came up with."
"Your bosses? Who are your bosses and what do they want with Jeff?"
"Well, Susan, I would tell you that, but then I'd have to kill you." The accompanying grin was menacing and his tone held no humor.
She looked at him with disgust. "That's a tired joke, and it isn't funny."
He continued as if the implicational threat was nothing. "We were hoping that Jeff may have contact with you, but my, let's say, 'company', is growing impatient to locate him."
This man and who ever he worked for had to be stark raving mad. Jeff, her brother of mystery, was dead. She and her parents had accepted that fact with a great deal of torment, never knowing who he really was as a man. He would come home once a year, and they would not hear from him again until he just showed up on the doorstep at Christmas, packages of expensive gifts in his hands. When questioned about his life, his answers were always vague.
"If he is alive, and I seriously doubt that he is, he has never contacted me. He was a few years older than me, and though we were close as children, he left home when he turned 18 and we heard little of him after that. I don't know what kind of work he did or where he went. All I know is what was relayed to me and my family by the Coast Guard."
The man nodded his head. "I see. That may be true, but I don't think it is. Even if you don't know where he is, I would bet he knows where you are."
Just then a Land Rover pulled up to the curb behind the man. Brad stepped out, catching Susan's eye. The man turned and saw Brad.
"Well, well -" he said turning back to Susan. "If it isn't the boyfriend. I'll be leaving now, Susan. I don't want to hurt your hippie - not here and now, anyway. We'll be talking again real soon." He turned and looked Brad up and down in assessment as Brad stepped up on the curb. The man gave him a look of contempt as he mumbled, "Fuckin hippies.", and casually walked down the street. Brad stopped and watched the man walk away, studying him for a moment, estimating his height, 6' 4", his weight, about 240 pounds, his age, about 40, remembering what his face looked like, almost instinctually casing him as he had done to so many targets. He shook his head as if trying to shift his training from the forefront of his mind.
Susan looked visibly shaken when he walked up to her.
"Are you okay?" he asked with a tone of concern.
"Yes, I think so" she said, her voice shaking.
"You look a little shook up, Susan." Brad put his arm around her, the comfort of which she accepted, leaning into him as if he was already familiar territory.
" Maybe you'd rather have a drink than a coffee." he offered.
"No." she said shaking her head. "A double cappuccino would do me fine right now." As they walked down the street towards the coffee shop the fog began to rise, a struggling dim light presented itself in the mist as the sun. Susan didn't notice. Her mind was spinning from the conversation with Mr. Creepy.
All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
Susan was mulling over what she was doing on this day, which so far had been completely out of character for her. She wasn't sure if she was running to or from something, and was not even sure what that something was. A cynical element in her mind suggested that she was trying to run from 30 back to 18 years old again. But she discarded that thought. That scenario may have triggered her reaction - her 'awakening', as her life to this point spread itself out before her with a vivid clarity. What she saw was how narrow her focus had become. There was more to her. There was more to life. What ever it was it slumbered in the darkest basements of her existence, and she wanted to awaken it, feel what it is, reinvent herself and be part of the adventure.
As Susan entered the Village of Soquel through the back door road, the edge of a fog bank fuzzed the sun that held the cool clouds at bay from venturing any further inland. At the moment gray weather ruled the coastal day, but Susan knew that the sun could easily cook the earth clinging clouds away by early afternoon.
She quickly passed through Soquel and found a parking spot close to the knee high cement wall that separated the village of Capitola from the beach. It didn't seem cold, but she grabbed a sweater from the back seat anyway and wandered down the sidewalk next to the wall until she found a wide area empty of people. She sat down on the wide top of the wall, pulled her legs under her chin with her arms wrapped around her knees and stared out across the expanse of sand at the still water lapping gently on the beach. A group of teenager in shorts played volley ball as if it was a sunny day. Others sat huddled on blankets waiting for the sun to appear as if it was late for a concert.
"Here you are." she heard a male voice behind her. She turned and stared for a split second at the grinning man behind her before she recognized him. He was big - about 6' 4", Thick shoulder and muscular arms in a tank top, which showed off a slight beer belly. He had dirty blond hair, chiseled features and the cold, blue eyes of a person who probably tortured small animals when he was a kid. Her heart jumped as she realized it was the man with the Auston-Healey.
Though her heart was pounding, she quickly masked her surprise with a look of composure, but not quick enough. He saw her shock, giving him a subtle feeling of power within the moment.
"I don't know what your problem is." Susan said with a tinge of poison in her tone, "but I don't want anything to do with you and I want you to go away and leave me alone."
The man's chuckle held venom rather than joy. "Ah, come on now. I saw you with that hippie back on Soquel. Is that as good as you can do? You probably couldn't handle a real man like me. I've got a very big cock."
Susan spit out a laugh of disgust. "Oh, brother." she said. "I'm sorry, asshole, but I think you have mistaken me for the type of airhead bimbo that I'm sure you're used to. I've got an M.A. from Stanford, top of my class. I need something a little more cerebral than a big dick to impress me, and I'm pretty sure you're very small in that area. Now get the hell away from me."
This time he threw his head back and laughed, then looked down at her with his cold eyes, his smile thinning to a straight line. "Okay, enough play time, Susan. Time to get down to business."
This time Susan could not hide the shock on her face. "How did you know my name?"
"Well, Susan Jenkins, I know a lot about you. I already knew you went to Stanford, and I knew you would be a snooty bitch too, but that's irrelevant to our business.
"I've got to tell you though, Susan, you lead one boring life. At least I thought you did until today. The boyfriend was a new element. He didn't come up at all in my research."
Her mouth dropped in astonishment. "You've been researching my life? Who are you? Why are you doing this?"
"I've been tailing you for two weeks. You go to work, go to the gym, go home. I've never seen such a boring life." He paused. "But, since I'm not getting what I want, and I'm tired to waiting, I decided it was time we met."
"Want?" she asked in confusion. "What is it you want?"
"Jeff." he said simply.
Now she was really confused. The only Jeff she could think of was her brother, and he had died at sea three years ago.
"I don't know anybody named Jeff." She said.
"Now, don't go telling me lies, Susan. That could be very unhealthy." he said softly.
"I'm not telling you lies. The only Jeff I can think of is my brother, and he died three years ago."
"Yeah, right." he said with a chuckle. "He took a sail boat out of the harbor and never came back."
"That's right." she said defiantly. "Pieces of his boat washed up on shore. There is no other conclusion one can reach in the face of the evidence."
"You're wrong about that, little Miss M.A. from Stanford. Another conclusion is that he took the boat out to sea, was met by someone else and he blew the boat up to give the appearance of death at sea. That's the conclusion that my bosses came up with."
"Your bosses? Who are your bosses and what do they want with Jeff?"
"Well, Susan, I would tell you that, but then I'd have to kill you." The accompanying grin was menacing and his tone held no humor.
She looked at him with disgust. "That's a tired joke, and it isn't funny."
He continued as if the implicational threat was nothing. "We were hoping that Jeff may have contact with you, but my, let's say, 'company', is growing impatient to locate him."
This man and who ever he worked for had to be stark raving mad. Jeff, her brother of mystery, was dead. She and her parents had accepted that fact with a great deal of torment, never knowing who he really was as a man. He would come home once a year, and they would not hear from him again until he just showed up on the doorstep at Christmas, packages of expensive gifts in his hands. When questioned about his life, his answers were always vague.
"If he is alive, and I seriously doubt that he is, he has never contacted me. He was a few years older than me, and though we were close as children, he left home when he turned 18 and we heard little of him after that. I don't know what kind of work he did or where he went. All I know is what was relayed to me and my family by the Coast Guard."
The man nodded his head. "I see. That may be true, but I don't think it is. Even if you don't know where he is, I would bet he knows where you are."
Just then a Land Rover pulled up to the curb behind the man. Brad stepped out, catching Susan's eye. The man turned and saw Brad.
"Well, well -" he said turning back to Susan. "If it isn't the boyfriend. I'll be leaving now, Susan. I don't want to hurt your hippie - not here and now, anyway. We'll be talking again real soon." He turned and looked Brad up and down in assessment as Brad stepped up on the curb. The man gave him a look of contempt as he mumbled, "Fuckin hippies.", and casually walked down the street. Brad stopped and watched the man walk away, studying him for a moment, estimating his height, 6' 4", his weight, about 240 pounds, his age, about 40, remembering what his face looked like, almost instinctually casing him as he had done to so many targets. He shook his head as if trying to shift his training from the forefront of his mind.
Susan looked visibly shaken when he walked up to her.
"Are you okay?" he asked with a tone of concern.
"Yes, I think so" she said, her voice shaking.
"You look a little shook up, Susan." Brad put his arm around her, the comfort of which she accepted, leaning into him as if he was already familiar territory.
" Maybe you'd rather have a drink than a coffee." he offered.
"No." she said shaking her head. "A double cappuccino would do me fine right now." As they walked down the street towards the coffee shop the fog began to rise, a struggling dim light presented itself in the mist as the sun. Susan didn't notice. Her mind was spinning from the conversation with Mr. Creepy.
All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Day at the beach ch.3
Chapter 3
"I didn't expect that." Susan remarked as she stepped back from him, still feeling a little awkward after being so obviously overwhelmed by his kiss. "Most men would have chosen a more confrontational approach."
"I'm not most men." He said. "If I can see a way to defuse a situation that creates no harm, I'll take it."
"Well - " she started, not sure what to say, "I feel indebted to you. Can I pay you for your help?"
"I think you already did." he said with a playful look in his eyes. "In my wildest dreams I had no intention of kissing a beautiful woman today."
She felt another flush rising in her cheeks as she recalled the gentleness of the kiss and how it had taken her breath away.
"You should be an actor." She commented. "You played the role quite well."
"So did you." He said with a grin.
"Okay." She said, feeling a little uncomfortable. "I will be going and let you return to your work before your boss sees you not doing anything."
"Oh!" he said glancing back at the fence. "No need to worry about that. My boss is very understanding about these things."?
"About these things?" she repeated with mild astonishment. "You make it sound like it's a regular occurrence." She paused and said teasingly, "Which happens more often, saving women passing by on the road or kissing them?"
He waved his hand towards the field where the horses still watched them with intense interest. "Those are my bosses. They don't care what I do as long as I bribe them with an apple when I do it." The bay nodded at Brad's gesture and walked a few steps closer.
"I'm on my way to the beach." Susan said looking at the horses then back at Brad. "If you're planning to go - "
Brad cut her off, running his words together quickly, letting them loose before they leaped back down his throat and refused to come out, "Can I buy you a cup of coffee in town? I'm almost done here. I just have to clean up, and was planning to go into Soquel for some supplies a little later."
"I had this plan - ", she started then stopped her self. She looked out at the green pasture where the horses now grazed, and at the redwood forest that covered the hill beyond, their height making the hill a small mountain. The sky was a crisp blue. Cotton candy puffs of sea-bearing clouds sailed its surface. Susan didn't really look at the scene, as her mind was spinning. But the scene affected her enough to calm her turmoil of feelings.
Susan had unconsciously set her objective when she left work this morning. She wasn't sure what to call it, maybe an identity crisis. Perhaps she was the person that she had become, but she was more. Much more. There was the dreamer that she once was. A person who saw and felt the thrill of life's lighted moments. A person who felt the adventure of existence. What had happened to those elements of me? What happened to my dreams and joys?
Her life was like a broken vase, and she had to put it back together. The only pieces that she could see was in her past. The ocean. The sailor and her - sailing away into the Pacific sunset. To find her dream, she had to go where it was created and lost - the beach.
Her savior, the hippie, was not figured into her focus and could be a diversion from her plan that she may not want, though he did seem nice. No, she had opened an old book on page 18 years old. What she wanted then was a golden boy, blond hair blowing in the sea breeze as he mastered the sails, she at his side.
She wasn't actually going there looking for her wind blown sailor in white linen draw string pants, but going back to where he was created in her mind. Where she imagined them on their yacht and her sunning on the deck as they ventured to islands in a blue Pacific ocean. That place where her dreams took concept was her starting point that would lead to who she is now - inside. She had to go to the beach to do that. The beach on which she sat so many years ago and stared out to sea, creating the life that she wanted in her still innocent, hopeful mind. But this guy, her eccentric savior, didn't fit into that picture. He was just a friendly hippie who probably spends his life fixing things on peoples ranches.
" My name is Brad." he said, extending his hand and bringing her back to the moment.
"Susan." she responded, taking his hand. "Listen, Brad, I - "
"I know." he said, seeing her reluctant expression. "You're going to the beach.
"Okay, Susan - ", he said with a grain of disappointment as he stepped back towards the fence. "It was nice meeting you. Enjoy your day at the beach."
"Thank you again, Brad." she said as she turned and started walking towards her car, a feeling of regret building inside of her with each step. She stopped and turned, blurting out, "I'm going to Capitola."
He turned back to her and smiled. "Great. Capitola is right next to Soquel. I usually stop by the coffee shop in Capitola and watch the tourists. Why don't you join me? We can make up stories about them as they walk by and get crazy on caffeine."
A short laugh escaped her. "Well, you certainly know how to impress a girl, don't you?" she said, teasingly.
"We've already passed that stage." Brad responded. "I risked my life to save you from that cave man in the Healey
She laughed. "Yes, you certainly took the dangerous road on that one."
"I'm glad you noticed." He said jokingly. "In the process of putting my life in peril, I took another dangerous step by kissing you, which, of course, broke that barrier. Now we can go the hard part - conversation."
Susan found his humor endearing and there seemed something about him that was likable. Maybe it was the way he held himself, very relaxed, yet athletic. His cheerful tone and subtle wit. She stifled back a laugh and said, "You sound a little presumptuous, Brad, but I think I would like to meet you for coffee, and I know exactly where that coffee shop is."
A grin lit his face, "Wonderful. I'll meet you there in about an hour. I have to put stuff away, and hose down so I don't smell like a horse."
"I didn't notice." She said, but she had noticed. As soon as she had pressed against him, she had noticed a mingling scent of horse, leather, linseed oil, a touch of redwood and male. As she opened the door of her car he called out, "Do you like Mexican food?"
"Yes." She called back. "Why?"
"There's a place in Aptos, a couple of blocks from the beach. It's been there forever."
"Manny's. Sure, I know it well."
They both stopped and looked at each other and smiled as if they had just had a communication that long enduring couples have. "I'll see you in an hour in Capitola." Susan said as she drove off with a smile that wouldn't go away.
Maybe dreams just wait in the sidelines when you push them aside, she thought. And maybe they don't always come dressed in the picture that you gave them, but the results can still be the same on an emotional level. It's just being open to them when they pass in front of you - recognizing them as the reality of a dream before you discard it, never noticing that this is what you dreamt of all along, it just looks different..
She no longer cared if the weather was dreary and gray on the coast. It was looking like a beautiful day to go to the beach.
Brad quickly put his tools away and jumped into the truck. Glancing at his watch he thought he should have given it an hour and a half, but he would make it. He turned the truck and raced it up the hill, turning into the long drive that ran through the large green pasture where cattle grazed, up to the old farm house tucked against the trees at the far end of the pasture. He pulled the old truck up next to the Land Rover, jumped out and ran into his house to take a shower. He was in a hurry. He only had an hour.
All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
"I didn't expect that." Susan remarked as she stepped back from him, still feeling a little awkward after being so obviously overwhelmed by his kiss. "Most men would have chosen a more confrontational approach."
"I'm not most men." He said. "If I can see a way to defuse a situation that creates no harm, I'll take it."
"Well - " she started, not sure what to say, "I feel indebted to you. Can I pay you for your help?"
"I think you already did." he said with a playful look in his eyes. "In my wildest dreams I had no intention of kissing a beautiful woman today."
She felt another flush rising in her cheeks as she recalled the gentleness of the kiss and how it had taken her breath away.
"You should be an actor." She commented. "You played the role quite well."
"So did you." He said with a grin.
"Okay." She said, feeling a little uncomfortable. "I will be going and let you return to your work before your boss sees you not doing anything."
"Oh!" he said glancing back at the fence. "No need to worry about that. My boss is very understanding about these things."?
"About these things?" she repeated with mild astonishment. "You make it sound like it's a regular occurrence." She paused and said teasingly, "Which happens more often, saving women passing by on the road or kissing them?"
He waved his hand towards the field where the horses still watched them with intense interest. "Those are my bosses. They don't care what I do as long as I bribe them with an apple when I do it." The bay nodded at Brad's gesture and walked a few steps closer.
"I'm on my way to the beach." Susan said looking at the horses then back at Brad. "If you're planning to go - "
Brad cut her off, running his words together quickly, letting them loose before they leaped back down his throat and refused to come out, "Can I buy you a cup of coffee in town? I'm almost done here. I just have to clean up, and was planning to go into Soquel for some supplies a little later."
"I had this plan - ", she started then stopped her self. She looked out at the green pasture where the horses now grazed, and at the redwood forest that covered the hill beyond, their height making the hill a small mountain. The sky was a crisp blue. Cotton candy puffs of sea-bearing clouds sailed its surface. Susan didn't really look at the scene, as her mind was spinning. But the scene affected her enough to calm her turmoil of feelings.
Susan had unconsciously set her objective when she left work this morning. She wasn't sure what to call it, maybe an identity crisis. Perhaps she was the person that she had become, but she was more. Much more. There was the dreamer that she once was. A person who saw and felt the thrill of life's lighted moments. A person who felt the adventure of existence. What had happened to those elements of me? What happened to my dreams and joys?
Her life was like a broken vase, and she had to put it back together. The only pieces that she could see was in her past. The ocean. The sailor and her - sailing away into the Pacific sunset. To find her dream, she had to go where it was created and lost - the beach.
Her savior, the hippie, was not figured into her focus and could be a diversion from her plan that she may not want, though he did seem nice. No, she had opened an old book on page 18 years old. What she wanted then was a golden boy, blond hair blowing in the sea breeze as he mastered the sails, she at his side.
She wasn't actually going there looking for her wind blown sailor in white linen draw string pants, but going back to where he was created in her mind. Where she imagined them on their yacht and her sunning on the deck as they ventured to islands in a blue Pacific ocean. That place where her dreams took concept was her starting point that would lead to who she is now - inside. She had to go to the beach to do that. The beach on which she sat so many years ago and stared out to sea, creating the life that she wanted in her still innocent, hopeful mind. But this guy, her eccentric savior, didn't fit into that picture. He was just a friendly hippie who probably spends his life fixing things on peoples ranches.
" My name is Brad." he said, extending his hand and bringing her back to the moment.
"Susan." she responded, taking his hand. "Listen, Brad, I - "
"I know." he said, seeing her reluctant expression. "You're going to the beach.
"Okay, Susan - ", he said with a grain of disappointment as he stepped back towards the fence. "It was nice meeting you. Enjoy your day at the beach."
"Thank you again, Brad." she said as she turned and started walking towards her car, a feeling of regret building inside of her with each step. She stopped and turned, blurting out, "I'm going to Capitola."
He turned back to her and smiled. "Great. Capitola is right next to Soquel. I usually stop by the coffee shop in Capitola and watch the tourists. Why don't you join me? We can make up stories about them as they walk by and get crazy on caffeine."
A short laugh escaped her. "Well, you certainly know how to impress a girl, don't you?" she said, teasingly.
"We've already passed that stage." Brad responded. "I risked my life to save you from that cave man in the Healey
She laughed. "Yes, you certainly took the dangerous road on that one."
"I'm glad you noticed." He said jokingly. "In the process of putting my life in peril, I took another dangerous step by kissing you, which, of course, broke that barrier. Now we can go the hard part - conversation."
Susan found his humor endearing and there seemed something about him that was likable. Maybe it was the way he held himself, very relaxed, yet athletic. His cheerful tone and subtle wit. She stifled back a laugh and said, "You sound a little presumptuous, Brad, but I think I would like to meet you for coffee, and I know exactly where that coffee shop is."
A grin lit his face, "Wonderful. I'll meet you there in about an hour. I have to put stuff away, and hose down so I don't smell like a horse."
"I didn't notice." She said, but she had noticed. As soon as she had pressed against him, she had noticed a mingling scent of horse, leather, linseed oil, a touch of redwood and male. As she opened the door of her car he called out, "Do you like Mexican food?"
"Yes." She called back. "Why?"
"There's a place in Aptos, a couple of blocks from the beach. It's been there forever."
"Manny's. Sure, I know it well."
They both stopped and looked at each other and smiled as if they had just had a communication that long enduring couples have. "I'll see you in an hour in Capitola." Susan said as she drove off with a smile that wouldn't go away.
Maybe dreams just wait in the sidelines when you push them aside, she thought. And maybe they don't always come dressed in the picture that you gave them, but the results can still be the same on an emotional level. It's just being open to them when they pass in front of you - recognizing them as the reality of a dream before you discard it, never noticing that this is what you dreamt of all along, it just looks different..
She no longer cared if the weather was dreary and gray on the coast. It was looking like a beautiful day to go to the beach.
Brad quickly put his tools away and jumped into the truck. Glancing at his watch he thought he should have given it an hour and a half, but he would make it. He turned the truck and raced it up the hill, turning into the long drive that ran through the large green pasture where cattle grazed, up to the old farm house tucked against the trees at the far end of the pasture. He pulled the old truck up next to the Land Rover, jumped out and ran into his house to take a shower. He was in a hurry. He only had an hour.
All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Day at the Beach 2
Chapter 2
Susan wondered if she was over reacting, being paranoid for no reason, but as she drove she continued glancing in the mirror. Fabio was a big, chiseled featured man, almost good looking, and may have been just a friendly traveller, but something sparked inside of her when he had come up behind her earlier. His friendly demeanor seemed a thin veil over something very creepy. His smile had a predatory overtone to it.
She didn't want to think about him anymore. She sighed and settled back in her seat, feeling the wind grab her hair. She passed a field of grazing cattle, an old farm house tucked at the edge of the distant trees.
Her father used to take this route when driving the family to the beach for the weekend. It seemed the old farm house and the cattle had been there forever. It was a picture that never change, and one she hoped never would. It was such a serene setting, and the big house just seemed to have gotten more charming with time. As she turned her eyes back to the road a spark in the mirror caught her eye. As she came to a bend from a long straight road behind her, she saw a car top the distant hill in the mirror. It was too far away to see what it was or its color, but she knew who it was. Mr. Creepy was following here the way a wolf would follow a scent.
_ _ _ _
Brad was reminiscing as he lifted the rough log into place on the fence post. He was thinking about how he tried to help his dad build this rustic looking wood fence when he was a child. He smiled as he remembered how patient the old man was with him when he would try to help, but mostly get in the way. Now, at 38 years old, it seemed a very long time ago to Brad. The deep brown wood of the fence was etched with years, gray and white streaks left by the salt air of time, baked deep by many summer suns.
Brad kept the property up, as his father would if he was still alive. Even though he had lived a life much different that his fathers, the strong values of his father were well entrenched in him.
'A much different life', Brad thought as he looked at the two horse watching him with alert twitching ears.
"What are you looking at?" he said to the horses. In unison they started walking slowly towards him. "No - no, you apple hogs, I'm fixing a fence, not giving you treats."
He smiled as the bay snorted and bobbed her head. He loved this place. He loved the quiet and the beauty of it. Eight months ago he had caught a bullet on a Special Ops assignment. As he was being medi-vac'd he knew his days in Special Forces were over.
'It isn't too bad', he thought. The pain only bothered him when the weather was cold and damp, but he endured it and did what he had to do. He never talked about it or what he had been doing all those years away from home. He couldn't. Officially, he never got shot and he was never in that country or any other country in which he was doing Special Ops. The Operation never took place. None of them took place.
Where he lived and what he did now was in extreme contrast to the last 20 years of his life. His lean face now sported a short beard, and his shoulder length hair hung from the back of the bandanna that he used as a sweat band.
He had come home - to the land where he grew up, to the land his father had left him, to peace and quiet after a life of clandestine war. In appearance, he blended into the generally hippie persona of the Santa Cruz mountains. He had a gentle demeanor about him and an easy smile that people were drawn to. Even his his oldest friends knew little about his military background, taking as fact his claim to have been an communications expert, never suspecting that inside this peaceful man was an elite specialist in the darkest recesses of combat.
_ _ _ _
As Susan rounded the bend in the forest and lost sight of the car behind her, she came down a small hill and saw a pick-up truck off the side of the road next to an open field. A tall, rangy looking man with his head wrapped in a bandanna appeared to be repairing a fence. He looked like a hippie to her, but was dressed like a cowboy. He wore Levi's with a utility belt strapped to his waist, , mud caked cowboy boots, sweat stained blue work shirt, sleeves rolled up, revealing muscular forearms.
"Shit." Susan mumbled. "I need a cop, not a hippie." She started braking as she came down the hill and pulled over next to the truck. She jumped out of the car and ran over to the hippie/cowboy, who had turned from his job and watched her with a silent, neutral expression as she came up to him.
"Yes, ma'am." he said as a question.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but there's a man following me."
Brad looked up the road curiously. "People follow each other down this road all the time. Are you all right?"
"No-no-no." She said with a tone of frustration and desperation, "I understand that. This is different. This guy is stalking me. He's driving a green Auston-Healey and will be coming over that hill any second, and going fast, because he's trying to catch me."
"Do you know him?" Brad asked.
Just then the scream of a high performance engine pierced the still air as the Auston-Healey flew over the hill and started down the hill.
"Hmm -" Brad grunted as he looked at the car racing down the road.
"Okay, ma'am, I'll take care of this quick and easy, but if I'm going to follow your intuition, you're going to have to trust my male intuition and go along with what I'm going to do." His eyes glanced to the road as he spoke to her, " and we have no time to discuss it."
Just as the driver of the Healey came close enough for the driver to see them clearly, Brad took her in his arms and kissed her. What the driver couldn't see was Susan's eyes pop open in surprise, her body tense for the moment it took her to realize what Brad was doing. She relaxed and put her arms around him. There was a slight squeal of tires as the car braked and cruised passed them. Brad raised to his full height and looked over Susan's head as the car slowly went by. He smiled thinly at the passing driver, but his eyes met the other man's with a spark of cold steel. A split second of male assessment passed between them before the driver gunned the Healey, racing through the gears as he sped down the road.
Everything happened so quickly that Susan was left with a bewilderment of emotions. Fear, upon hearing the sports car coming. surprise when the tall man had taken her in his arms and pressed her to his hard body, kissing her so gently, as if he really meant it - as if they were long separated lovers reuniting. He looked back down at her still in his arms and smiled as the car sped away. "We should probably stop meeting like this." He said as his smile widened, his eyes softened.
"Well -", she responded softly. "I - I - uh." Her mind was blank of words. She suddenly felt embarrassed - not by her desperate plea for help, but by her reaction to being held and kissed so tenderly in such a tense situation. Susan was momentarily flustered, and she never got flustered. It was unprofessional, and professional is what she had been for years. She suddenly realized, that not only did he still hold her in his arms, but hers were wrapped tightly around his back. Her heart was pounding, and she wasn't sure why. Was it being chased by Mr. Creepy? Being literally save? Was it because of how she was saved - with a kiss.
She became aware of the silence - the scream of the Healey long faded into the breeze but she still had her arms around Brad, his was still around her, without thought, resting within the gaze of his eyes. She pulled her eyes from his and released her grip on him. As he released her he rubbed her shoulder fondly then dropped his hand. It was a touch of affection, a motion of caring, the feel of reaffirmation that everything is all right. She felt a warmth inside as her heart started pounding again, a flush of rose on her cheeks.
If this was a normal day, and Susan was as she usually is, she would have thanked him for his assistance in a courteous, yet distant manner, gotten in the Honda and left. But this was anything but a normal day, and Susan was not at all who she usually would be. She wasn't really sure who she was today. What she did know is that she wanted to be somebody different than she had been for the last decade. She didn't want to be molded by policy and politics. She wanted to be - - Susan, and she had no idea who that was.
All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
Susan wondered if she was over reacting, being paranoid for no reason, but as she drove she continued glancing in the mirror. Fabio was a big, chiseled featured man, almost good looking, and may have been just a friendly traveller, but something sparked inside of her when he had come up behind her earlier. His friendly demeanor seemed a thin veil over something very creepy. His smile had a predatory overtone to it.
She didn't want to think about him anymore. She sighed and settled back in her seat, feeling the wind grab her hair. She passed a field of grazing cattle, an old farm house tucked at the edge of the distant trees.
Her father used to take this route when driving the family to the beach for the weekend. It seemed the old farm house and the cattle had been there forever. It was a picture that never change, and one she hoped never would. It was such a serene setting, and the big house just seemed to have gotten more charming with time. As she turned her eyes back to the road a spark in the mirror caught her eye. As she came to a bend from a long straight road behind her, she saw a car top the distant hill in the mirror. It was too far away to see what it was or its color, but she knew who it was. Mr. Creepy was following here the way a wolf would follow a scent.
_ _ _ _
Brad was reminiscing as he lifted the rough log into place on the fence post. He was thinking about how he tried to help his dad build this rustic looking wood fence when he was a child. He smiled as he remembered how patient the old man was with him when he would try to help, but mostly get in the way. Now, at 38 years old, it seemed a very long time ago to Brad. The deep brown wood of the fence was etched with years, gray and white streaks left by the salt air of time, baked deep by many summer suns.
Brad kept the property up, as his father would if he was still alive. Even though he had lived a life much different that his fathers, the strong values of his father were well entrenched in him.
'A much different life', Brad thought as he looked at the two horse watching him with alert twitching ears.
"What are you looking at?" he said to the horses. In unison they started walking slowly towards him. "No - no, you apple hogs, I'm fixing a fence, not giving you treats."
He smiled as the bay snorted and bobbed her head. He loved this place. He loved the quiet and the beauty of it. Eight months ago he had caught a bullet on a Special Ops assignment. As he was being medi-vac'd he knew his days in Special Forces were over.
'It isn't too bad', he thought. The pain only bothered him when the weather was cold and damp, but he endured it and did what he had to do. He never talked about it or what he had been doing all those years away from home. He couldn't. Officially, he never got shot and he was never in that country or any other country in which he was doing Special Ops. The Operation never took place. None of them took place.
Where he lived and what he did now was in extreme contrast to the last 20 years of his life. His lean face now sported a short beard, and his shoulder length hair hung from the back of the bandanna that he used as a sweat band.
He had come home - to the land where he grew up, to the land his father had left him, to peace and quiet after a life of clandestine war. In appearance, he blended into the generally hippie persona of the Santa Cruz mountains. He had a gentle demeanor about him and an easy smile that people were drawn to. Even his his oldest friends knew little about his military background, taking as fact his claim to have been an communications expert, never suspecting that inside this peaceful man was an elite specialist in the darkest recesses of combat.
_ _ _ _
As Susan rounded the bend in the forest and lost sight of the car behind her, she came down a small hill and saw a pick-up truck off the side of the road next to an open field. A tall, rangy looking man with his head wrapped in a bandanna appeared to be repairing a fence. He looked like a hippie to her, but was dressed like a cowboy. He wore Levi's with a utility belt strapped to his waist, , mud caked cowboy boots, sweat stained blue work shirt, sleeves rolled up, revealing muscular forearms.
"Shit." Susan mumbled. "I need a cop, not a hippie." She started braking as she came down the hill and pulled over next to the truck. She jumped out of the car and ran over to the hippie/cowboy, who had turned from his job and watched her with a silent, neutral expression as she came up to him.
"Yes, ma'am." he said as a question.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but there's a man following me."
Brad looked up the road curiously. "People follow each other down this road all the time. Are you all right?"
"No-no-no." She said with a tone of frustration and desperation, "I understand that. This is different. This guy is stalking me. He's driving a green Auston-Healey and will be coming over that hill any second, and going fast, because he's trying to catch me."
"Do you know him?" Brad asked.
Just then the scream of a high performance engine pierced the still air as the Auston-Healey flew over the hill and started down the hill.
"Hmm -" Brad grunted as he looked at the car racing down the road.
"Okay, ma'am, I'll take care of this quick and easy, but if I'm going to follow your intuition, you're going to have to trust my male intuition and go along with what I'm going to do." His eyes glanced to the road as he spoke to her, " and we have no time to discuss it."
Just as the driver of the Healey came close enough for the driver to see them clearly, Brad took her in his arms and kissed her. What the driver couldn't see was Susan's eyes pop open in surprise, her body tense for the moment it took her to realize what Brad was doing. She relaxed and put her arms around him. There was a slight squeal of tires as the car braked and cruised passed them. Brad raised to his full height and looked over Susan's head as the car slowly went by. He smiled thinly at the passing driver, but his eyes met the other man's with a spark of cold steel. A split second of male assessment passed between them before the driver gunned the Healey, racing through the gears as he sped down the road.
Everything happened so quickly that Susan was left with a bewilderment of emotions. Fear, upon hearing the sports car coming. surprise when the tall man had taken her in his arms and pressed her to his hard body, kissing her so gently, as if he really meant it - as if they were long separated lovers reuniting. He looked back down at her still in his arms and smiled as the car sped away. "We should probably stop meeting like this." He said as his smile widened, his eyes softened.
"Well -", she responded softly. "I - I - uh." Her mind was blank of words. She suddenly felt embarrassed - not by her desperate plea for help, but by her reaction to being held and kissed so tenderly in such a tense situation. Susan was momentarily flustered, and she never got flustered. It was unprofessional, and professional is what she had been for years. She suddenly realized, that not only did he still hold her in his arms, but hers were wrapped tightly around his back. Her heart was pounding, and she wasn't sure why. Was it being chased by Mr. Creepy? Being literally save? Was it because of how she was saved - with a kiss.
She became aware of the silence - the scream of the Healey long faded into the breeze but she still had her arms around Brad, his was still around her, without thought, resting within the gaze of his eyes. She pulled her eyes from his and released her grip on him. As he released her he rubbed her shoulder fondly then dropped his hand. It was a touch of affection, a motion of caring, the feel of reaffirmation that everything is all right. She felt a warmth inside as her heart started pounding again, a flush of rose on her cheeks.
If this was a normal day, and Susan was as she usually is, she would have thanked him for his assistance in a courteous, yet distant manner, gotten in the Honda and left. But this was anything but a normal day, and Susan was not at all who she usually would be. She wasn't really sure who she was today. What she did know is that she wanted to be somebody different than she had been for the last decade. She didn't want to be molded by policy and politics. She wanted to be - - Susan, and she had no idea who that was.
All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
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