Chapter 1: Summer of 73

Darren walked with a noticeable limp, just one of many souvenirs from a war he couldn’t quite leave behind. It was only a short distance from the bus stop to Matty’s Diner - he was absolutely famished and was hoping the wait staff would be friendly enough for the trip to be worth it. He could feel eyes on him, the locals immediately suspicious of the large duffel bag and military fatigues he wore. He didn’t bother challenging their stares, keeping his eyes on the dusty looking building with a hand-written sign that promised ‘fresh pie!’

Besides, the worst they could do was run him out of town. Wouldn’t be the first time.

The bell over the door rang when he opened it, but nobody in the diner seemed to pay it any attention. The wait staff bustled about, serving hot meals to families still wearing their Sunday best. On a chalkboard above the kitchen, the Sunrise Special was a bargain at less than 3 bucks a head, and came with a sizzling side of bacon and bottomless coffee. Matty’s Special was a large 1/2 pound burger with hot sauce and some onion rings on the side. Darren’s mind went back and forth between the two, and the limited amount of cash in his pocket. Which would keep him full for longer?

“Take a seat anywhere,” a passing waitress told him, casting an eye in his direction just long enough to avoid hitting him with her tray. “Hannah will be with you shortly.”

Darren nodded, walking along the wall to an empty booth at the end. He sat down on the soft fabric, noting that a split in the cushions revealed the rubbery yellow foam inside. A couple of younger kids stared at him from their tables, their food instantly forgotten. Hushed reprisals from their parents did little to stifle their curiosity, but harsher tones did get them to return to their meals.

“What can I get ya?” Hannah appeared as if by magic, her eyes fixed on a small yellow notepad. She was in her mid-forties, her white and yellow uniform faded by hundreds of washes. Darren stared at an old ketchup stain on her apron, wondering if it was older than he was.

“Sunrise Special,” Darren told her, pulling out a wadded fiver. He set it on the table then stuck his hand back in his pocket. There were only a couple of bills in there now, and he really hoped they weren’t a pair of Washingtons.

“How do you want your eggs?”

“Scrambled.” Darren tugged on his duffel bag, pulling it farther under the table. He used to love his eggs fried, but couldn’t eat them if they were too runny.

“Coffee?”

“Black.”

“Got it.” Hannah vanished, returning a second later with a slightly chipped mug and a pot of coffee. She poured it, the familiar, bitter aroma drifting across the table to tickle Darren’s nose. She slid it toward him along with a small plate of toast. “You look hungry. This will get you through until your order is up.”

“Thank you.” Darren held the mug in both hands, letting the heat seep into his knuckles. He never used to like coffee, had never touched it before Vietnam. The smell of it transported him to those early morning patrols, time spent with Little Mike, Dwayne, and Hayden. It was the calm before the storm, a moment of silence in a world that had become too loud. Closing his eyes, he could almost smell the jungle around the edges of his memory, hear Dwayne teasing Little Mike about his height.

Naturally, Little Mike had been nearly seven feet tall.

“Good morning, son.” He wore a light brown jacket with a star pinned to the outside, hitching his belt up before sliding into the space across from Darren. Lost in thought, Darren hadn’t even seen him walk up to the table.

“Morning, Sheriff.” Darren kept his eyes on his coffee. This conversation rarely went well, so the less he said the better. He had learned six months ago not to lose his temper with the law. On the plus side, the couple of days in lockup had saved him some money.

“Got word that a soldier came in on the nine o’clock, so thought I would take a peek.” He offered his hand. “Sheriff Walters. Mind if I join you?”

Darren took his hand and gave a firm squeeze. “Darren. It’s your town, Sheriff. Sit where you like.”

“You just get out of the service, Darren?” Sheriff Walters leaned back in his booth, giving Darren’s duffel bag a gentle poke with his shoe.

“Ten months ago, sir.” Darren sipped his coffee, staring out the window. He fought the urge to move his bag away from the sheriff. He didn’t like his stuff being messed with.

“That’s a long time to be headed somewhere, isn’t it?” Walters was handed a cup of coffee. “Thanks, Hannah.” He took a sip and sighed. “So are you just passing through, or looking to settle?”

“Leaving as soon as I finish eating.” Darren had no idea where he was going, if he was honest with himself. In some ways, he was still wandering the jungle, waiting for Charlie to put a bullet in the back of his head. Sometimes the bullet was the town sheriff, or a group of hippies who liked to spit. Either way, something always forced him to move on. “I won’t be a problem, sir.”

“Uh huh.” Walters stared at him for several seconds, his lips pressed thin. “Well, way I see it you look like a man who does a lot of walking these days. How long were you over there?”

Darren frowned. “Long enough.”

“You violent?”

“If I have to be.” How long ago was that incident in the bar? Four months? Five? A waitress had been hitting on him to make her preppy boyfriend jealous. Boyfriend had three friends help jump Darren in the bathroom, and Darren had heard rumors in the next town a few days later that two of them were still in the hospital.

“You have a home, son?”

To his credit, the sheriff didn’t ask again, even though Darren let the question hang for several moments. He slugged a good amount of his coffee, just in case he was about to get kicked out.

“No, sir.”

Sheriff Walters let out a quiet rumble, like he was thinking way too hard. “Way I see it, it looks like you could use a break from all that walking. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you don’t cause any trouble. The locals won’t bother you, if that’s your worry.”

“Thank you, sir.” Darren lifted his eyes to meet the sheriff’s. Walters had deep crow’s feet, and his short hair had gone mostly gray. Though Walters was leaning back, Darren saw that he sat with his hand near his belt, his gun accessible at a moment’s notice. Hannah appeared with Darren’s Sunrise Special, placing it in front of him. Extra bacon had been piled on the side. Darren thanked her before she vanished once more.

“This is a small town, Darren. While the rest of the country is deciding who to blame for this war, many of us are still coming to grips with the nine boys we know ain’t coming home. I suspect you’ll be hard pressed to find somewhere nearly as friendly for a lost soldier such as yourself.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sheriff.”

“I think you should.” Walters was digging in his pocket. “I don’t expect a man like you is looking to stay, but a little extra pocket change never hurt anybody. You look like a capable young man. We have a community board over at the library. We have a few odd jobs posted, may be good for you to make a few extra bucks.” Walters laid a ten dollar bill on the edge of the table. “This is a small town, Darren, and we take care of our own. Those boys, bless their souls, wouldn’t have wanted us to turn away one of their own. You decide to make a couple days of it, that’s fine with me. Anyone gives you problems, you let me know straight away.”

There was pain in Walters’ voice mirrored only by an intensity in his eyes that Darren had experienced first hand.

“Thank you, Sheriff.”

When Walters stood to leave, Darren rose as well, extending a hand. The sheriff shook it, then picked up his mug and walked out the door, waving to Hannah behind the counter. Darren sat back down, allowing a small sigh of relief to pass his lips. How long had it been since he had been made to feel welcome? Even his own hometown had gone anti-war, and the friends he had grown up with treated him with polite disdain at best.

Things would have been different if Dwayne had come back with him. His twin had been his better half, the charming one who could make anyone smile. Thinking back to the time they stole the principal’s car for a joyride, Darren couldn’t help but smile at the memory of his brother grinning at the police from the driver seat, informing them that he had no idea how fast he had been going because he wasn’t tall enough to see the speedometer.

For perhaps the millionth time, Darren wondered what would have happened if the sniper had chosen a different target, or if they had taken longer gearing up.

Or if some stupid fucking paper pusher hadn’t accidentally put them in the same unit.

“You okay?” Hannah reappeared, refilling his mug.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Eat your food before it gets cold,” she told him, sliding the ten dollar bill off the table and into her pocket. She put the change on the table, next to his fiver. “And you let me know if you need anything else. Don’t be in a hurry to sneak out of here.”

“Thank you ma’am.” Darren took a piece of bacon, biting into it. It was perfectly crisp with just a few pockets of grease on top. He broke off a few pieces to eat with his eggs and toast, taking his time with the Sunrise Special. He mulled over the sheriff’s kindness, Hannah keeping his coffee full.

He was there for another hour. When Hannah brought him some free pie, he made his decision.

-g-

The library was across from an old church, both buildings sporting plaques declaring that they had been built in the early 1920’s. The church looked run down, and all of the downstairs windows boarded up. The front door had a padlock on it, and no services were posted on the notice board out in the yard.

The library, on the other hand, appeared to be quite busy. A steady stream of people were moving in and out of the entrance. A large field behind the library was populated by several families who had organized picnics, a perfect picture of small town tranquility. Darren watched as a father threw the pigskin for his son, pumping his hands in delight when the ten year old caught it. How long had it been since Darren’s own father had done such a thing, let alone looked him square in the eye?

Darren shook his head. The fault was largely his own. He had come back from the war a different man, one who was always looking for a fight. His father had tried, he really had, but neither of them had come to terms with Daryl’s death on foreign soil. They had shipped his brother home in a box, or at least what they could find of him. Standing over Dwayne’s grave, Darren couldn’t help but wonder if they had just shipped home chunks of meat in camouflage, his brother’s remains still beneath a bush somewhere.

At least he had the certainty that Dwayne was dead. He closed his eyes, forcing away the images that tried to creep free of his subconscious. The one that stuck with him was seeing the light gone from his brother’s eyes, that vacant stare that says nobody is home.

It was the same reason he couldn’t eat fried eggs anymore.

The door to the library was whimsically designed to look like it had been carved from a tree. Darren couldn’t help but smile when a little girl grabbed onto the over-sized handle, pulling it open by leaning backward with her whole body. Coming up from behind, Darren held the door for her. Tossing a quick look back at him, she sprinted across the cheap linoleum of the lobby, vanishing through the bathroom door.

The lobby itself was ordinary. A couple of cheap benches made a small sitting area, and a drinking fountain had been installed just inside the entrance. Walking up for a drink, he saw the community board that the sheriff had mentioned, a cork board with spare pins to hang advertisements. Scratching at his beard, he flipped through the ads that people had left behind.

Several of them were of little use. Several of the parents in town were seeking baby sitters, and someone was offering to teach piano. The grocery store was looking for a bag boy, and Darren knew he would rather just move to the next town than spend all day trying to avoid conversations with people while stuffing their bags with bread and bananas. He needed a job where he could be useful, but away from people.

Flipping through the papers, he found one buried toward the bottom. Most of the fliers had been printed out on nicer paper, but this one had been hastily scrawled on yellow tablet paper.

HANDYMAN WANTED

Reasonable Wage + Apartment

See Head Librarian

Darren pulled the flyer off the bulletin board, his eyes scanning it numerous times. A handyman job might not be bad. The town itself seemed pretty quiet, but it was the apartment offer that really caught his eye.

The idea that he may be able to stay somewhere without sleeping on a bench or someone’s couch appealed to him. He was pretty handy with tools, the result of a childhood building cars with his dad and Dwayne. He thought back to the sheriff’s words, a promise of a second chance if he wanted it. In a country so divided on its politics, any new town he traveled to would be yet another coin flip. He had yet to receive a welcome like he had had here, and he wasn’t certain that his heart could take another unnecessary bar fight, or a police escort to the edge of town.

The front door of the library opened, causing a breeze to ruffle the papers on the board. The sudden shuffling noise took Darren thousands of miles away. They were no longer papers rubbing against each other, but jungle leaves shifting in the dead of night. Darren clutched his M16, eyes scanning the dark, wet terrain. The jungle shifted, and a dark figure emerged, wide eyed and clutching a stack of books.

“Are you a soldier?” The figure asked, and the jungle vanished, replaced by the lobby and a ten year old boy. The room tilted briefly, and Darren squeezed his eyes shut, then fixed them on the kid in front of him. He relaxed his hands, his fists vanishing.

“I used to be,” he answered.

“Neat!” The boy, his curiosity satisfied, walked past Darren and stuffed his books into a large metal bin marked RETURN. He rounded the corner, and Darren followed him. The large hallway behind the lobby led to a couple of doors on the left, empty rooms with tables and chairs in them. The boy passed them, going through a set of double doors into the library proper. Darren walked in behind him.

The library consisted of two levels. The upper level was made up of stacks of books, and the few adults he saw were up above. The main floor was populated with shorter shelves full of children’s books. Along the edges, a few chairs had been placed, a few people reading quietly to themselves. The information desk by the entrance was empty, so Darren walked around it, looking for anybody who could help him.

A woman’s voice rose over the stacks, soft and motherly. Tilting his head to listen, he realized that the voice was reading out loud, a story about an ugly duckling trying to make its way through life. Darren followed the voice, stepping around the stacks and moving closer. Through the pauses in her readings, he could now hear the rustling of the pages, but couldn’t quite figure out why he couldn’t see her.

Stepping around a stack, he got his answer. A recessed portion of the floor created a natural sitting area for the spellbound children that surrounded her. She wore a black knit pullover and sat in an over-sized chair with several cushions, her long, dark hair hanging around her shoulders. Her face was hidden behind a large pair of horn-rimmed glasses. Slouching forward, she held up a picture book for the children to see. An ugly duckling was hiding under some leaves in a rainstorm, staring wistfully out at a pond.

Darren walked softly, afraid that he would break the spell. Children between the ages of two and ten were gathered around her, gazing wistfully at the woman reading to them. Darren stood behind the children, waiting for her to finish. The ugly duckling grew into a beautiful swan and swam off into the sunset, or something like that. The children clapped, and several stood up to give the reader a big hug. Darren couldn’t help but notice the wistful look in her eye as she watched them go. Setting the book in her lap, she locked eyes with Darren. Her eyes were just as dark as her hair, and Darren was surprised by the intensity of her gaze.

“May I help you?” she asked, her arms folded in her lap.

“Maybe.” Darren held up the yellow piece of paper. “I’m supposed to see the Head Librarian.”

“I see.” Her expression softened. “Let me take you to her.” She swept aside her hair, then grabbed a knob on the edge of her armrest. With the flick of her wrist, her motorized chair spun slowly in place and moved up the ramp behind her. He met her at the top of the ramp, where she took the paper from him.

“My name is Ana.” She pronounced it Ah-na. “The children call me Ms. Rae.”

“Nice to meet you Ms. Rae, my name is Darren.” He offered her his hand, and she took it. He noticed that the veins in her hand stood out, thin blue webs on a chalky white canvas. He felt positively massive standing next to Ana, despite the bulk of her wheelchair.

“Follow me.” Her chair whined, and she went around him, going past the stacks. She was soon back at the information desk where an older blonde stood behind the desk.

“Hey, Louise, this is Darren. He is here about the handyman job.”

Up close, Darren realized that Louise’s hair was more silver than blonde. She took the paper from Ana and nodded politely. “If you will watch the desk?”

“Yes, Ms. Louise.” The chair puttered behind the large wooden desk, Ana pushing her way into a spot next to where Louise sat. “Good luck!” She gave Darren a thumbs up, and started organizing a stack of books.

Darren followed Louise through the main door and into one of the side rooms, where she pulled out a chair and sat. She gestured for Darren to sit across from her. He set his bag down just under the table, giving it a push with his boot.

“So how did you hear about the job?” she asked.

“Sheriff Walters sent me to look at the community board.” At the mention of the sheriff, he saw an immediate change in Louise. She relaxed, her smile a little more genuine.

“I see. Well, we are looking for someone who can do basic carpentry, plumbing and electrical. Also, part of your job would be janitorial in nature. Do you feel qualified?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He had always been good in shop, and he had learned plenty about plumbing and electrical in the army. Always a quick learner, Darren was sure he could figure it out if he didn’t already know it. “But I should probably tell you that I don’t have any tools on me except for a screwdriver in my bag.”

“Why do you carry a screwdriver?”

“I can open a can with it.” And almost anything else. Darren hadn’t been exactly shy about the places he had stayed in his travels. He was certain that more than a few families had come home wondering who had broken in just to eat some of their food.

“We have plenty of tools. Our last handyman’s widow gave them to the library when he passed away.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. Gary was retired, but he liked to keep busy. I’m afraid the work on this place easily outpaced him, but he stuck with it until his heart attack.” Louise smiled weakly. “His love of the Sunrise Special didn’t help him any.”

“I see.” Darren shook his head. The idea of something lying in wait, like a heart attack or an aneurysm, used to terrify him. Now, however, he was more afraid of the ghosts that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. He was a full step outside of reality, and he was hoping that maybe, in due time, he could finally catch up with the rest of the human race, and maybe walk by their side once again. “That’s too bad...”

“About your pay.” Louise looked nervous. “It’s supplemental at best. However, the city council has authorised us to offer a room as compensation. The church across the street from here has a living space in the back. Back when it was in service, the preacher and his family lived there. I’m afraid that the rate isn’t negotiable.”

“How much per week?” When Louise told him, Darren grimaced. It really was low, but it was more money than he had seen in a bit. Even if he stayed here for a few months and saved up, it would be plenty to live off of for when he moved on.

“Like I said, it isn’t great. I’m afraid that we can’t afford too much.” She frowned. “The room is decent though, and the people here are kind. And you wouldn’t be alone. Ms. Rae would be your neighbor.”

“In the church?”

“Yes. When the church was built, it was originally planned that the living space was for a pair of men. The kitchen and living room are a common area, but the rooms were separated, and there are locks on them. The preacher we used to have had his kids stay in the other room, but they all left town after he stole the church’s money.”

“Will Ana be okay sharing space with me?”

“Well, she doesn’t have much choice. Being honest, Ana’s career choices are rather limited by her disability. She came to us a few years ago much like you did, straight off the bus. Walters found her down at the park, feeding the geese.”

“He seems to have a penchant for strays.”

Louise laughed. “You have no idea. Look, if you want the job, it’s yours. It would be nice to have another face around here and, to be honest, it would do my heart good to know that someone else is in that stuffy old church with her. You want to stay on my good side, you help me take care of that girl.” She stood. “Why don’t you come with me and I can have Ana show you to your new place.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Darren picked up his bag and followed. when they walked back into the library, Ana was smiling at a young man who was telling her about his summer trip. She stamped several books that he had checked out, them handed them over. The guy said hello to Louise as he walked past, ignoring Darren completely.

“Ana? Darren here has decided to join the team.”

“Congratulations.” Ana smiled. It didn’t quite seem to make it to her eyes.

“He will be taking the extra room in the church’s living quarters.” Darren saw the edges of Ana’s smile wither slightly. He couldn’t blame her; he wouldn’t be excited about a new roommate either. Louise opened a locked drawer and pulled out a small set of keys. “I’ll have Ana take you over so you can get acquainted. Tomorrow morning I will have a list ready for you.”

“Let’s go.” Ana pushed the joystick on her chair, and her chair carried her out to the front lobby. Darren followed her outside and across the street to the old church. Wondering how she intended to get up the narrow concrete steps, he said nothing when she went past the building, turning onto a an unseen cobblestone path that went to the side. It was like a long driveway, sloped gently to the back of the building. The door here was the only part of the building that looked remotely recent – it was a bit wider than a normal door, and he understood why once Ana produced a key and unlocked it. Her chair had just over an inch of clearance on each side, and she hummed to herself once she crossed the boundary.

Large boxes had been piled to the sides, labeled DONATIONS and stuffed with books. A simple kitchenette was just past the storage room, and they entered a large living room. The doors had been removed from most of them, the rooms full of more boxes labeled DECORATIONS or DONATIONS. The last two rooms had doors, and Ana opened one of them with a key.

“This would be your room,” she said, pushing the door open. A stained mattress was in the corner. There wasn’t any other furniture in the room, and the tiny window above the bed was covered in filth. Darren walked inside, turning slowly to take it all in. There was a small closet and a bathroom with a shower. “I’m afraid there isn’t any hot water currently. There will be if you can get the water heater working again.”

“I’ve slept in worse,” he admitted, looking up at the ceiling. There were several cracks in the plaster. He set his bag down by the bed and looked out the window. Not only was it dirty, but a large bush grew on the other side.

“It’ll do.” He left the room, looking at the other door. “What’s through there?”

“That’s my room.” Ana’s eyes narrowed. “I must admit that I’m not very keen on having a man next door. If I ever find you in there, or you cause me any trouble, I won’t hesitate to get you fired.”

Darren nodded. “I don’t blame you. I’m honestly just looking for a roof over my head, maybe get my head on straight. Um...” He rubbed the back of his head. “There’s something you should know about me. Ever since the war, I have a lot of trouble sleeping.”

“Like an insomniac?”

“No. I fall asleep. Staying asleep is the problem. It’s just bad dreams. It doesn’t happen very often, but when they do, they can get pretty bad.”

“Dreams about the war?” she asked. She sounded curious.

Darren nodded. “If they get real bad, you can wake me up, but do it from a distance. Turn on the lights first so I can see you. My body wakes up faster than my brain does. I just wanted you to know, just in case.”

“Sounds dreadful. I’m a pretty heavy sleeper, so I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She opened her mouth to say something else, then went silent. “I promise I’m not rude or anything. I’m just nervous. For now, if we could just keep it professional, that would be for the best.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Darren noticed a large set of double doors just around the corner from Ana’s room. “Where do those go?”

“The rectory. That stays locked up – ever since a termite infestation some years back, there’s so much wood rot that you could fall through to the basement. There simply hasn’t been the money to get it fixed.”

“But none here?” he asked, stomping his foot.

“Concrete beneath here. The termites didn’t like the flavor of it, I guess.” She took him outside to the narrow concrete stairs that went beneath the church. “We store a bunch of things down there, but I’m afraid it’s been awhile since anyone has been. Apparently the bugs have taken over and it’s a real mess.”

“Bugs don’t bother me. At least not the ones in the states. The insects in Nam were far scarier.”

“That’s good to hear. By the way, Gary’s tools were all put down there. Also, the water heater is out. If you want a hot shower, you’ll need to fix it.”

“You don’t? Want a hot shower, I mean.”

“I sponge bathe.” She patted herself on the leg. “These are zero good for standing, so I just heat up some water on the stove and wash off.”

“I see.” He felt bad bringing it up. He started down the stairs. “Guess there’s no time like the present to check it out.”

“Here. You’ll need this.” She tossed him a key. “I’ll be back at the library if you have any questions. It closes at six. I guess I’ll see you later.” He could hear the sound of her tires on the loosely packed dirt fade into the distance.

“Yeah. I guess.” Darren looked at the door to the basement. It had muddy handprints on it, likely Gary’s. Holding the key in his fingers, he slid it into the lock just as thunder roared in the distance.

8

It was raining hard, the sudden downpour enough to cause a mist to rise from the hot asphalt. A small truck pulled up against the sidewalk, both men getting out and running to Matty’s through the rain. The smell of fresh cooked meat and fries clung to them immediately, making Brother Cyrus’ mouth water.

“Damn, that sounds good.” Jeffrey gave the bottom of his coat a yank, casting droplets of rain all over the entrance. He pulled a comb out of his back pocket, giving his mullet a quick comb-through. “I’m getting Matty’s Special. You should too.”

“You know I don’t eat meat,” Cyrus reminded him. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. Just the thought of greasy beef bits being crushed beneath his tongue made him queasy. It was less the texture of the meat and more the idea that it had once been alive that bothered him. “I do, however, eat onion rings.”

“A man of your talents unwilling to eat meat never ceases to amaze me.” Jeffrey nodded politely at the older woman who welcomed them in. She led them to a booth near the back of the restaurant. A couple of locals were deep in lively conversation over some town gossip involving a new handyman. Cyrus made a mental note of it as they walked toward the table.

“Don’t need a menu, hun. Matty’s Special for me, and a salad and some onion rings for my friend.” Jeffrey flashed the old waitress a smile. “And a couple of cold beers.”

Cyrus watched the waitress disappear into the kitchen. “Seems friendly enough,” he said, looking around the establishment. A couple of curious patrons watched them with interest, but not in a fearful way.

“You’re just being polite.” Jeffrey slapped the table with both hands repeatedly as the waitress returned with two bottles of beer. “Thanks sweetheart! Keep ‘em coming for me.” Again, he flashed his winning smile. Their waitress— Hannah according to her nametag— smiled back. Cyrus took the beer from her and wondered if she would be so friendly if she knew that half of those teeth were fake, the result of a fist fight with a Bigfoot.