Chapter 13: No Innocent Civilians

Keith Boyd-
Fred Boyd his brother.
Alice Boyd his sister in law.
Nephew John 15
Niece Gabby 13
Jo Anne Wall old girl friend
Windy Wall her ex husband.
Lewis and Ellie Keith’s in laws.
Sarah Marsh retro hippie
General Briggs rd
Doris owner of the consignment shop.
Jo Anne Joyner Wall : Keith’s first girlfriend. Three girls 16 13 10
oldest daughter ginger
Mr Jessup buyer of Keith’s scooter.
Rebecca Avondale deacon and keith’s client.
Marsha stylist to Rebecca
Gulfcrest hotel/casino
Elanor, Mark and Simon family being stalked
Sylvia Amos sheriff’s detective.
Willow goth chick. Computer nerd
Abdi arab family victim of arson.
Ginger Moss Willow’s mother
Mr Serpico client in motel.
Liam Amos hunter.
Jasper Amos Liam’s son
Jerry Geyser first separated man to stay in cabin/tent.
Lou Anne Mason justice dept
Jill one of the federal cops.
Ashley Marcy’s friend.
Nurse Jane at hospital in grenada
Rodney Markham and Marcus Wilbert Deacon’s attackers.

“We just wanted to come tell you goodbye. This has been the best weekend,” Marcy said.

“Good, I’m glad you had fun. Come back any time. You are always welcome.” I said.

“Since you gave us a discount, your next arrest is on the house,” Marcy said.

“Also your next workout,” Ash said with a wink.

“Careful girl, I might hold you to that,” I said, then hugged them both and sent them on their way with a smile.

The rest of the week I caught up on my fish for the freezer then pulled the limb hooks. I had decided I had enough of the catfish for awhile.

The end of winter had come without me noticing. At the end of that week spring was upon me full blast. I spent two weeks working on a better push motor design. It was faster and more powerful. I would be better for most rolling landscapes. It still required a bicycle as the guiding force, but it wouldn’t necessarily need any pedaling to get home...

I was up to my ass, literally, in pieces of metal. They all left over from previous builds, and all of them were the wrong sizes. It was on a Thursday afternoon when I took a break and rode the scooter out to the rural mail box. I received a note filled with government mumbo Jumbo. I almost called Lou Anne to translate, but when I finally got to the last line, I figured out that I should send them a $5,000 certified payment for the travel trailer. Within thirty days I would get the title to the travel trailer by mail.

I went directly to the house and authorized a bank transfer for the funds. I followed the directions in the letter to the letter. Then I return to Circus Tent to continue working on the Jumbo push trailer.

After working all day on the Jumbo pusher, I didn’t mind doing my first walk through of the travel trailer. On the inside it mostly needed a good cleaning and airing out. Sanitizing it wouldn’t hurt either. Oh yeah there were a few bullet holes in the paneling but not nearly as many as I had expected to see.

Outside was a different thing altogether. I had to make the water, sewer, and electrical hookups permanent. Then there was the matter of the sixty or seventy bullet holes in the skin. From the fact that the heavy caliber bullets hadn’t penetrated the thin inside paneling, I surmised that the insulation had been replaced with some ballistic material. The Kevlar riot shield material possibly. I could probably caulk the holes then have someone repaint the trailer.

Willow was going to make a hundred bucks at least updating the website. As for me I rode to the hardware superstore to purchase ten tubes of thirty year exterior clear caulk. I managed to make it back before dark. The roads were too bad for night rides, even if I had a headlight. The head and tail lights were high on my list of purchases. Then again they had been up there for the past two years. I just hadn’t gotten around to actually parting with the money, since it gave me an excuse not to leave the house after dark I didn’t mind.

I spent a few hours the next morning replacing a couple of windows in the travel trailer. After that a couple of more hour pasted while I patched the dozen bullet holes in the interior paneling. I used a dark brown caulk for those patches. The bullets, which made those holes, enter through the broken glass of the windows. I chose not to go with ballistic glass. It was harder to find, and much more expensive than a polycarbonate material. It wouldn’t stop a bullet, but it wouldn’t shatter either. I didn’t plan on anymore firefights, so it should be fine.

When Marcy’s call came, I had already called for painters to make bids on the job. The outside paint job was number one on my priority list before I spoke to Marcy.

“Hello beautiful,” I answer her call. “What up you coming back already?

“No Keith, we need your help, It’s important can you come up?” she asked.

“How soon do you need me,” I asked.

“Tomorrow for sure,” she said.

“I’ll leave at daybreak. Give me six hours. Is that soon enough?” I asked.

“Yes, would you like Ash to come for you. She can drive dad’s pickup. That way you can bring your gear in the back,” she suggested.

“If you need me sooner, put her on the road. I can leave as soon a I pack my tools,” I suggested.

“She will leave in twenty minutes,” Marcy said. “Thank you Keith.”

“Not a problem. Your dad would do it for me,” I said.

It was a two hour drive from Grenada to Greenwood. Ashe was pulling onto the farm road in something less than ninety minutes. We began loading my tools into the truck immediately. The hard case with the trench Mossburg inside went behind the seat. My best scooter went into the rear. Then I tied it down to a couple of concrete blocks which I ripped from the yard. I added my black half duffel ‘go bag’ to the bed of the truck. It contained some clothes and cash mostly. In fifteen minute we were ready to turn the truck to the return trip to Grenada.

“Okay now that I can concentrate, what is the emergency,” I asked.

“It’s Deacon,” Ash said dry eyed. “Marcy found him after work in his house. He didn’t answer his phone though his house lights were on. She went down to check on him. He was tied to a chair, unconscious and bleeding. He is in the hospital. They were still running tests on him when I left to come get you. I looks like a home invasion the police said.”

“You reckon?” I asked. “I’m sorry.”

“He looks real bad Keith,” she said.

“Most people do after a beating. The good news is the damage is usually not life threatening, and it is reversible.” I added.

“Please don’t do anything stupid and end up in jail,” Ash replied.

“Of course not. Payback belongs to the Deacon, and the cops.” I said looking as serious as I felt. I knew it was a lie, but she didn’t need to know that.

Ash drove at a dangerous speed but I didn’t caution her. I just closed my eyes and tried to enjoy the drive. We were in Grenada just after 9 PM pm. She drove straight to the University of Mississippi medical center in Grenada. The Deacon was out of surgery for a couple of broken bones in his face. He had a few broken ribs which didn’t require surgery. He also had a splints on both of his hands. Deacon had been tortured. The assholes who did it should have killed him. They had no idea of the hell headed their way.

He also had a concussion according to Marcy. So it looked as though the assholes had a few day left to breath easy. I was wearing the colt in a hip hugging holster, which made it invisible inside the ass of my jeans. I didn’t expect any trouble inside the hospital, but I always tried to be prepared, I thought.

“Come stay at my place,” Marcy said.

“I think I’ll stay with Deacon tonight,” I said.

“The cop on the door will still be out there,” Ash pointed out.

“No offense, but I don’t trust cops. How about you take me to Deacon’s house to drop off the scooter,” I suggested to Ash.

Once in the car I said, “You need to stay with Marcy. She doesn’t need to be alone.”

“I know, but thanks for saying it,” she said with a smile. “And you are welcome to stay with us.”

“Let’s see how things go with Deacon,” I said. I didn’t tell her I had worked hundreds of protection details over my almost twenty years in the Air Force. I knew what I was doing. I also knew how to fill the cracks in the local police coverage.

I walked the halls of the hospital while the cop watched the door. I concentrated on the third floor of the wing where the Deacon was sleeping off his concussion. But I also got to the rear doors and even outside the building.

Two days of that and my leg was killing me. I even developed a friendship with one of the Deacon’s night nurses. She found a space for me in the employee’s lounge where I could take the leg off. It gave me a badly need chance to allow the stump to breath. The lounge door was on the same hallway as the Deacon’s room, so I was close by. The hour or so made all the difference in the world to how I felt.

In exchange I convinced the slightly older woman to meet me for lunch. It was the only meal I took outside the hospital cafeteria.

It seemed that Jane, the nurse, was a bit of a salad connoisseur. The restaurant she chose had about twenty different specialty items on their salad bar. I had a grand ole time mixing items with the basic bed of lettuce.

I gave Jane a really good look while I ate my salad and pizza. She was very tall and quite thin. She either had breast implants or wore an industrial strength bra. It wouldn’t be unusual for a woman her age to have had breast reconstruction after surgery for cancer. I knew better than to ask. We were both exhausted, so I rode my scooter to the Deacons house to sleep on his sofa.

By sundown I was back at the hospital. Deacon had started to talk while I had lunch and slept. As I expected he couldn’t remember much about his beating or the torture. I knew why he couldn’t remember. Deacon had plans of his own for the assholes. First thing I should do would be to check the latest passport application list. Because frankly, if they had any sense, they would be planning on a long South American vacation.

“So Deacon how you feeling?” I asked.

“I’m floating on morphine,” he said.

“Enjoy it while you can cause it’s a bitch coming down. Even from just a few days use on the happy juice,” I suggested.

“Thanks for that advice Mary Sunshine,” he said with a smile. “I still have the worlds worst head ache.”

“Trust me, I know just how that feels. It will get better, but it will take a while before you are a hundred percent.”

“That’s why you are here,” he said.

“The two of us might not be enough,” I said.

“Don’t worry about the numbers. We will make do,” He said.

“I’m glad you are feeling better,” I said.

“I need one thing from you right now. I need my Smith and Wesson shield. Marcy knows where I keep it,” Deacon informed me.

“I’ll get it for you in the morning. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait till you get out of here. The staff will have a conniption, if they find it. It won’t go well for either of us,” I explained.

“Alright, but not one foot outside this place without it,” he said very seriously.

“You got it. I’ll tell you what I’ll get it, bring into the hospital, then keep it in my pocket. If any shit starts, I’ll slip it to you,” I promised.

Before she left the hospital I met Jane in the cafeteria for coffee. Actually it was breakfast since I was starving. “Do you have any idea how long Deacon will be in the Hospital?” I asked.

“That’s up to his doctor. He has the best doctor on the hospital staff,” She said.

“Jane you ducked that skillfully, but you still ducked it. Give me some idea please. I won’t tell anyone you broke you nurse oath to tell the family nothing,” I promised.

“My guess is two or three more days,” she said.

“Then I didn’t pack enough socks,” I said.

“Is that code for underwear?” she asked.

“Actually yes,” I said.

“I have a washer and dryer at my place,” she said. “You are welcome to use it. You can even take a nap there.”

When I returned to Deacon’s room, from doing my washing, he was asleep. I sat in a chair by the bed until Marcy came. When she did, I took a walk around the hospital. Since everything appeared to be quiet, I went to the cafeteria for a bowl of soup. Actually it was Chilli. It wasn’t bad with enough Texas Pete in it.

When I got back to his room Deacon was awake and talking to Marcy. I let them have their alone time. During the half hour while Marcy talked to her dad, Ash and I sat in the waiting room.

“I’ve thought it over. I want to help you track down the people who hurt Marcy’s dad,” Ash said to me.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said.

“I know I don’t. I want to help. All the fucking pushups and curls should be good for something,” she said.

“Trust me, they wont help. It wont make Marcy love you anymore to get your ass shot,” I explained.

“No you trust me. I can take care of myself. Biggest disappoint of my life was when I flunked out of ranger school,” she said. “I really wanted to be the first woman to make it through.”

“How far did you get?” I asked.

“Thirty days,” she replied.

“I made fifty one days,” I replied. Then as I often do, I just stopped talking.

Marcy came in and saved us from making any decisions. I walked back to Deacon’s room. When I entered I found him eating dinner with his hands in splints.

“I’m sure Marcy would feed you,” I said.

“I’ll starve first,” He said.

“Listen I’ve been thinking. You are going to need some down time to heal. I think you need to let me do the leg work, so to speak. When we know who and where, you can come along and murder the bastards,” I suggested. “I promise I’ll save all the fun things for you.”