Chapter 1: Ring Around the Rosary

Wednesday, July 12th, 2006, New Orleans

It was damn hot outside. In fact, it was sweltering. It was already ninety degrees out, and it wasn’t even noon yet. I’d been working in what had been a church basement for the past two days now, piling up all the loose debris so that it could be scooped up and taken to the designated dump area. The remains of the building that used to stand overhead had already been carted away the week before, and now it was just the nitty-gritty that was left. I sighed to myself and went back to the job at hand after taking a big swig of lukewarm water from my thermos. Gripping my prybar with both hands, I put all of my weight behind moving the small boulder from where it had fallen, crushing an old pine box.

“Hey, Jake, I’m heading over to the canteen. You wanna coffee or something?” Steve asked as his shadow momentarily fell over me from the edge of the lip to the pit I was working in.

“Coffee? Are you insane!? In this heat? Shit, I barely finished one this morning when I woke up. I’m beginning to think that maybe Hurricane Katrina was God’s way of telling people to move away from this crazy oven,” I replied with an incredulous stare. “Now something cold if they have it would be absolutely divine. My canteen water is already piss warm.”

“I hear ya, man, but I still need my coffee regardless. I’ll see what they got cold for ya,” he said with a shrug. “Oh, good work, by the way; looks like you almost got all of the debris piled up neatly down there.”

“Thanks, other than the partially collapsed stone wall, this old church basement has been pretty easy going compared to that old townhouse we did last week,” I stated with a grunt as I managed to move the boulder I was trying to get free by a couple of inches.

“I hear that, anyway, I’ll be back in a few,” he said as his shadow retreated from the edge as he left.

With a mighty heave, I put all of my two-hundred-and-ten pounds behind my prybar, and at last, the huge rock came rolling out of its depression. I leaned against what remained of the partially collapsed basement wall and wiped the sweat that was dripping into my eyes from my brow. This heat was too much, and for the hundredth time since I’d gotten here, I wondered about my decision to volunteer to help clean up New Orleans.

I seriously had underestimated the situation down here. I had really thought that I’d be using my skills as an apprentice Mason, not clearing out debris. Surprisingly little construction was going on, and the little that was, had so much red-tape involved that only the big corporations were getting started on it. So here I was, a twenty-two-year-old fledgling Mason, stuck cleaning up the endless amounts of garbage that was still littering the majority of this city. I had been hoping to catch a break with an established crew to get some experience under my belt, but it wasn’t happening. Not for the first time was I contemplating going home, and not for the last time did I push the thought out of my head until later.

With another sigh and silent curse aimed at the oppressive heat, I stood up to start gathering the chunks of what remained of the pine box that I had uncovered. I absentmindedly figured that the box had initially been about two feet square, and I was mildly curious as to what it had contained. Probably some old priests clothes or some shit, maybe some really stale Eucharists or some candle holders, I mused. Grabbing a big chunk, I lifted it up to carry over to my tidy debris pile when I spotted a purple velvet cloth lying on some old dried straw now gone moldy.

I tossed the piece of the box towards my pile and bent down to grab the velvet roll. It had two thick ruby-colored ribbons tied around the ends that were keeping the cloth rolled up tightly. Upon closer inspection, I could see that the ribbons had tiny crosses made out of silver thread running down the middle of them. Huh, I wonder why it’s all wrapped up? I glanced down and saw something shiny in the middle of the straw that must have filled the crate. I set the velvet cloth down next to me, brushed some of the straw aside, and saw what looked to be a solid silver cross.

I picked it up, and it felt heavy; it was the length of my forearm and was very detailed, right down to the crown of thorns on Jesus’s head. It must be worth a shitload, I figured. Shrugging and vaguely wondering if I should turn it over to someone or just keep it, I turned my attention back to the velvet. I untied both ribbons and pulled them away from the cloth, and unrolled it.

My breath caught in my throat as I beheld the most exquisite and handsome silver ring that I’d ever seen. It was sitting there in the middle of the luxurious purple cloth surrounded by an old looking Rosary complete with a small carved wooden cross. The ring didn’t look religious; maybe this was just some long-dead priests prized family heirloom or something. I held it up to my eye and admired the stunning artistry that had gone into crafting it. The ring was made out of two intertwining serpents, and they were eating each other’s tails. They roped around each other, and I could even make out the tiny scales that had been carved upon their bodies. One had small emeralds for eyes and the other what looked to be rubies. Wow, this was a gorgeously made man’s ring. I wonder why it was sitting in a crate in the basement of a centuries-old church?

I couldn’t help myself; I had to try it on. I slipped it onto the middle finger of my left hand, and the world instantly went dark as I heard a voice thunder inside of my head.

<Sed per dualem anulum serpens est petita>

What?

My vision slowly came back, and it felt like I had just been dipped into a lake of freezing water. Holy shit, what the fuck was that voice in my head!? I looked around, trying to see if someone had perhaps just spoken aloud, but I was still all alone at the bottom of the church basement. I didn’t see anyone walking around the edge above, and the sun was almost directly overhead now, so there were definitely no shadows for anyone to be hiding in. The damn heat must be getting to me; I could definitely use something cold to drink. Hopefully, Steve finds me something.

Trying to convince myself that I hadn’t really heard anything in my head and that it must have just been someone speaking french up above somewhere, I turned my attention back to the ring again. I realized that it fit me perfectly, and it looked and felt like it belonged on my finger. Finders keepers, losers weepers, as they say, the ring was mine!

“Yo! Jake, I gotcha an ice-cold Gatorade, Bro,” Steve shouted down as he appeared above me again. “Here, catch.”

“Thanks, bud,” I replied as I caught it out of the air. It was as cold as advertised and brought some temporary relief when I guzzled it down.

“You good to finish up down there by yourself?” he asked. “I already have everything ready for the dump truck and shovel crew, and I was gonna head on down to that big house on the corner.”

“Yeah, go on ahead. I’m almost done down here anyway, and I’ll catch up with you over there soon,” I replied, waving him away.

I stashed the silver cross behind a couple of loose stones where the wall had crumbled. I’d come back for it later. Once I was satisfied that no one would easily find it, I finished making a neat pile out of the remaining garbage so that the excavator guys could scoop it out handily, and then I joined Steve on the next property. This would be the fourth street that we’d cleared since I’d gotten here, and it almost seemed like just spit in a bucket considering how little we’d managed to accomplish. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say that someone had decided to use the hurricane as cover so that they could dump half the world’s garbage down here. Again I thought about just packing it up and going home.

I was lying nude, on top of my sleeping bag in my tent, admiring the serpent ring for perhaps the hundredth time since I’d found it. It really was a work of art. Even if I did leave to go home now, finding the ring and the cross had been worth it. I figured that the cross would fetch some good money, and the ring was mine now. I couldn’t even imagine taking it off.

I’m wasting my time down here. They have a gazillion volunteers, they don’t need me, and it’s not like I’ve made any friends other than Steve anyways. Besides, I missed my mother and my sisters a lot more than I’d thought that I would’ve when I had first left. I felt guilty for leaving them. I had intended on getting hooked up with a crew down here to not only learn but to make some money. Money that I could’ve sent back home, yet here I was six weeks gone and not a penny to show for it. Sure the Red Cross was covering for my food and water, and yeah, they were instrumental in seeing that I got a shower every couple of days, but I was getting zero in the way of dollars. If I left tomorrow, I would have just enough money to get home.

Fuck it, I’ve made up my mind; I’m leaving for home first thing in the morning. I certainly didn’t want to take a chance that someone might recognize the ring as remote as that might be. I would never part with my twin silver serpents, no matter who might try and claim them, so I was definitely better off just leaving town and never looking back. As a matter of fact, I’d call my Mom and let her know right now; she’d be ecstatic.

I flipped open my cell and auto-dialed my house, hoping that she wouldn’t be asleep already, even though it was only eight back home. It was her night off from the bar, and she was always burnt out from working two jobs.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom! How’re things?” I asked, happy to hear her voice.

“Jake-e-poo! Oh, Honey! It’s so good to hear your voice! How are things down there? Are you getting enough to eat? Did you manage to get hired as an apprentice anywhere yet? Did you meet any girls? You’re careful in the sun, I hope,” my Mom gushed as she excitedly bombarded me with question after question.

“Whoa! Slow down, Mom! Yes, I’m getting enough to eat, the Red Cross is decent about that. No such luck with getting a job though, it’s a bunch of red-tape bureaucratic bullshit down here. No girls either; unfortunately, they don’t seem to wanna be found hanging out in garbage piles. As far as the sun, well, I’m pretty tanned on the upper half, and when I take my pants off, I look like some weird Human zebra,” she giggled at that. “I got good news, though, Mom.”

“Oh? What’s that, Baby?” she asked curiously.

“I’m tired of it down here. I never should have left you and Abby and Heather. In the immortal words of Ozzy Osbourne ... Mama, I’m coming home,” I had to pause and pull my cell away from my ear as she shrieked in joy.

“Really!? You don’t know how happy that makes me, Jake-e-poo! I was really worried about you going off all the way down there by yourself. You belong back up here in Boston with your family!” she exclaimed with glee.

“Mom, I’m twenty-two, you really gotta give the whole Jake-e-poo thing a rest, jeez. How are the girls?”

“Jake, you’re my boy, and you’ll always be my little Jake-e-poo, no matter if you’re twenty-two or forty-two! Abby is doing ... okay, I suppose, she got her first job. I don’t like where she’s working though...” she paused as her voice lost some of its joy.

“Where, Mom?” I asked, a little tense.

I heard her sigh, “Hooters, Jake. She’s working at that godawful Hooters that they opened over on Friend street last year. I begged her not to, but you know that your sister never listens to me. She thinks that just because she’s nineteen now that she knows it all. At least she’s respectful, though, not like Heather. She’s going wild, Jake, and since you left, she’s been getting worse. I didn’t want to say anything before because I didn’t want you worrying, but since you’re coming home...”

“What’s she up to now, Mom?” I asked wearily, Heather at fourteen, was a handful, especially since Dad had died.

“Well, I caught her using pot, and the cops brought her home last week. She’d been shop-lifting again, with that no good friend of hers, Stacy. Stealing make-up, of course. I love her to death, but I’m at my wit’s end, Jake. I just don’t know what to do anymore,” she said, and I could tell that she was weeping quietly while trying to hide it from me.

“I’ll talk to her when I get home, Mom, I promise,” I said, trying to put her mind at ease.

I was so mad at Heather that I just wanted to put her over my knee and spank her. She’d been driving Mom to hell and back ever since she turned thirteen just over a year ago. I know that she really misses our Dad, but he’s been dead for four years, and she needs to get it into her thick head that she’s killing Mom behaving the way that she does.

“Oh, Jake! I’m so relieved to hear that you’re coming home! I need your help with the girls. I know that I shouldn’t count on you like I do and that it’s not fair, but I have no choice sometimes, Baby. I’m sorry. You really shouldn’t have to worry about us three as much as you do, but I need you, Honey.”

“Well, I called to tell you that I’m leaving tomorrow and that I should be home by Friday. I’m going to stop overnight at a cheap hotel if I can find one, or maybe I’ll just crash out in the truck,” I said.

“Oh, Honey, please get a room somewhere. If you need money, I can wire you some through Western Union or pay you when you get back. I don’t like the thought of you sleeping in your truck overnight; it’s not safe,” she said with worry apparent in her voice.

“I’m fine for money, Mom. I can get a cheap room...”

“Are you sure? I can always take an extra shift at the club,” she said with worry still evident.

“Yeah, I’m sure, Mom. Don’t get any extra shifts if you can avoid them; you already work two jobs. Besides, I plan on working with Frank when I get back, he might not pay that well, but it’s guaranteed hours at least. I hope Abby is kicking in some money for bills since she’s working now,” I stated.

“Yeah, she is; she’s a good girl. It’s just that she’s as stubborn as your Dad ever was. I worry about her over there. It’s a rough area, and they make them wear so little, and of course, the men are all drinking. By the time it’s closing time ... Well, you know how some men can get...”

“Yeah, I know. Abby is tough. She’ll be all right, you’ll see. Try to worry a bit less; you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack, Mom,” I said as it was my turn to sound worried. “Well, I’m gonna get some sleep, I’m leaving first thing, and I want to be able to get at least fourteen hours put behind me before I stop,” I said as I yawned.

“Okay, Jake, I love you, Honey. I’m so glad that you’re coming home. Please drive safe, and call me if anything. See you Friday, and sweet dreams, Jake-e-poo!”

It was too hot to bother getting into my sleeping bag, so I just closed my eyes after one last moment of admiring my new ring. I swear that with my eyes half-lidded, it almost looked like the serpents were undulating. Weird and cool, I thought as I drifted off.

Thursday, July 13th, 2006, Roanoke Virginia

I pulled off the highway in Roanoke, Virginia; I’d driven for almost fourteen hours straight, I needed gas again, and my butt was numb. I’d seen a sign on the highway advertising a Motel 6 right off the exit, and I knew they tended to be pretty cheap. I decided to get gas first, so I pulled up to an Exxon station and filled up. The hotel was close enough that I could see the neon sign lighting up the night sky just down the street. I could see a neon Waffle House sign as well, so I figured I’d eat there. All-day breakfast sounded good to my growling stomach, and breakfast was usually pretty inexpensive as well.

I was in the store browsing for a bag of chips and some juice for later, and the next thing I knew, two black guys came rushing in pointing guns at the cashier, demanding that he empty the till if he didn’t want to get shot. It took them all of two seconds to spot me standing there, stunned.

“Hey, you! Get your ass over here if you wanna live! Now!” one of the guys screamed at me while the other continued to yell at the large Indian dude behind the counter.

With my heart beating a million miles a minute, I stepped over to where the guy was pointing with the business end of his gun.

“Empty your pockets and no funny stuff, or I’ll cap your ass, Amigo,” he said menacingly.

I quickly pulled out what little cash I had and handed it over as I shook like a leaf. There went the rest of my money. It was just a little over two-hundred dollars, saved from a month of work mixing cement and carrying bricks. He snatched it from me one-handed and stuffed it into his front pocket while he kept the gun pointed at my head. I watched nervously as the large brown-skinned guy with the turban slowly handed over the contents of his till. He hadn’t said a word the whole time, and neither had I. I just wanted them gone and that gun out of my face.

“I got the money, Dawg, now cap these fools, and let’s scram! They’ve seen our faces, so they gots ta go!” the guy standing closest to the door said.

I heard the snub-nosed .38 click as he cocked it.

“No! Don’t shoot me! Please!” I yelled out at him as I threw my hands up in front of my face in a defensive gesture as if they could somehow stop a bullet.

I felt a brief tingling sensation in the finger wearing the ring; it shot all the way up my arm and into my head, but it was gone as fast as it came. Other than realizing what I’d felt, it quickly left my mind for the moment. All I could think of in that split second was that my Mom was going to be so devastated to lose me and about how I’d never get to see my two beautiful sisters again, who I loved very much.

“I can’t shoot him, Greeny; let’s just scoot,” the guy in front of me said as I was wincing in preparation for the pain.

“What?! What you talkin’ ‘bout you can’t shoot ‘im! It was your idea never to leave witnesses, D-Dawg! Now cap his ass and let’s git,” his partner commanded as he kept his own gun pointed at the cashier.

I opened my eyes hopefully, “D-dawg is right, you don’t need to shoot me or anyone! You guys got the money, live and let live, man!”

“Aww, hell, man! If you ain’t got the guts fo’ some reason now, I gots ta do it my own damn self den!” Greeny said as he swung his pistol to point at me.

I closed my eyes in fear, and at the same time, I heard a loud bang that made me jump. I tensed; I fully expected to feel the searing pain from being shot at any moment. Then I heard another loud bang, and I opened my eyes and greeted the sight before me incredulously.

The cashier had a large magnum .44 in his hands, just like Dirty Harry from the movies, only he hadn’t asked anyone if they felt lucky, even though at that moment I sure the fuck did! There was still a small wisp of smoke coming from the barrel, and both black guys were slumped on the floor with pools of blood spreading beneath them.

“How do you like that! You fucker of mother’s, you!” he semi-shouted at them with his Indian accent. If I hadn’t felt so shocked, then I might have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

The one nicknamed Greeny was missing a big chunk of his head, and his brains were splattered all over the stack of Pringle cans and Lay’s Potato Chips that were behind him. His left eye was gone, and his right eye seemed like it was still staring right at me. I was numb with shock. I looked at D-dawg, and he was lying on his back. He had a small bloodstain spreading right from the center of his greasy white t-shirt. The bigger pool of blood was under him on the dirty tiled floor.

<Et anulum serpens est activated aluminium super tenetur ad velatos.>

What the fuck!? That was the same voice in my head again! The same one from when I put on the ring. I’m fucking going insane! Is this what schizophrenics hear all the time? I hear voices in my head, and I’m standing in front of two dead guys!

<Et binding processus coepi, sic alter anulus necesse est inveniri. Unus annus non dedit.>

“Hey, man, are you feeling like things will be okay?” the cashier asked me with his strong accent and a concerned look on his face.

I looked up, wondering what the hell language I had heard in my head. I was pretty sure that I had read about a guy who’d come out of a coma knowing how to speak Dutch or some shit, and apparently, he couldn’t speak English anymore. Was he insane like I seemed to be now?

“Hey, guy? Are you there, man? I am going to call for one police to be coming here right away now, sir. You probably should touch no things, and just stay there, or maybe go and sit outside on the curb, please, sir,” he said as he picked up a phone.

“Yeah, okay. I’m gonna sit outside. Oh, and thanks, thanks a lot for saving my life, Dude!” I replied in a daze as Greeny continued to stare at me like he had a secret that he was never going to share.

It took the fucking cops almost twenty minutes to get there. No wonder those two morons had robbed the place if that was the typical response time around here. I’d been sitting there, wondering if I was going to be hearing the voice again anytime soon. I wondered if insane people always still felt as sane as I did. I felt fucked up, to be sure, and I felt disbelief, but I still felt like me. I remembered the money that D-dawg had stolen from me, and about five minutes before the cops showed up, I had gone back inside and took it back out of his pocket. The big Indian dude didn’t say a word; he just nodded at me, like he expected me to do nothing less.

When all was said and done, the cops took my statement, asked for my I.D., and then let me go. I guess, as far as they were concerned, the case was solved. Two dead perps, a recording of the incident on DVD, and an eye witness that said the cashier had acted in self-defense. When I asked if I could buy the chips and juice that I had put down to give D-dawg my money, the cashier just gave it to me on the house.

I skipped the Waffle House, for some reason, the thought of food made me queasy. I happily rented a room at the Motel 6, and when I got inside, I soaked under the hot water in the shower for over an hour. When I had finally found some reasonable level of calmness again, I laid on the bed and flipped through the T.V. channels settling on some Family Guy reruns.

What the fuck was that voice? Even more fucked-up, was why wasn’t it in English? After lying on the bed with my brain spinning a mile a minute for about another hour, my stomach finally started demanding food. Still feeling a little surreal, I decided that the chips and juice would do until morning.

Friday, July 14th, 2006, Roanoke Virginia

I tossed and turned all night, having had many nightmares where Greeny stared at me with his one good eye, his splattered brains strewn out behind him. He talked to me and told me repeatedly that I was one crazy mo’ fo’ for hearing voices in my head. I must have woken up and fallen back asleep a dozen times before the alarm on my phone went off, signaling that it was time to get back on the road.

With bleary tired eyes, I stepped into the shower, once again admiring the ring upon my finger as I wondered if I would be hearing any voices today. I checked out of the hotel and went over to eat a massive breakfast at the Waffle House. I was starved, and considering that a bag of chips had been my supper last night, I wasn’t surprised. Two eggs easy side up, four pieces of bacon, four sausages, two delicious waffles, two toasts, and about a gallon of coffee later, and I was back on the road. If I never saw Roanoke again I wouldn’t be sad, I can promise you that. I left that shithole at eight in the morning.

The rest of the drive went super smoothly, even though I was on edge the whole time, constantly expecting some fucked up shit to happen or for more voices to start speaking in some weird-ass languages in my head again. I stopped twice for gas and ate some Wendy’s from a drive-thru. I made it to my house at ten o’clock on the nose, and thankfully, I hadn’t heard any crazy voices in my head even once during the whole trip. I was exhausted, and after I called my Mom at the club, I just wanted to crash out for twelve hours.

The living room lights were on, so maybe one or both of my sisters were home. I had no clue what Abby’s hours at Hooters were, and Heather was supposed to be home by nine on weekends, but with our Mom working at the club on Fridays and Saturdays, it was a hard thing to police. Especially since I had been gone.

I used my key and jiggled the door while pulling sharply on it at the same time so that it didn’t stick in the jamb. I walked inside, home sweet home. I smelled pot, and I heard male and female voices giggling. I kicked off my shoes and dropped my duffle bag onto the worn doormat.

“Do it! I dare you! Just chug it!” a high pitched teenage girl’s voice tittered.

“Yeah, I dare you to chug that whole beer shotgun style! I bet you can’t,” a squeaky male teenage voice said excitedly.

“I can too!”

Sigh. That was Heather’s voice. The little shit was having a party.

I stepped from the entranceway to where it opened up into the living room and dining room, “No, you can’t!” I yelled out, pissed that I had to deal with this shit right then when all I wanted to do was sleep.

“Oh, shit!” a pimply-faced, scrawny, brown-haired kid said as he jumped a couple feet into the air from where he was sitting on the couch.

“Uh, hey, dude. We, uh, weren’t doing anything, uh, honest,” said another teenage kid, this one blonde and a little beefier but not by much.

“Jake! What are you doing at home!” Heather screeched in alarm as she looked up from where she was clutching a beer can and a pocket knife about to do a shotgun.

“Heeeeyyy, Jake! Wanna smoke a bong?” Stacy giggled at me from where she was semi-slumped down on the couch with bloodshot eyes.

I stared death at the two pipsqueaks as they visibly shrank beneath my glare, “You two, scram the fuck outta my house! NOW!” I roared.

They jumped up and scrambled to get their shoes on as they practically ran out the door. They didn’t even say a word to anyone as they fucked off either; they just bolted like their asses were on fire. I went and shut the door firmly behind them and watched as they ran all the way down the street as if the devil was on their tail.

“Jake! You can’t just come home and start yelling at my friends and...”

“The fuck I can’t! What the hell do you think you’re doing smoking pot and drinking beer in here! And getting arrested for shop-lifting AGAIN!?” I thundered with my rage.

Heather squinted at me with inebriated bravado, “You’re NOT my DAD! You can’t tell me what to do, Jake! So big deal, Mom told on me! It’s MY life, NOT YOURS!” she screamed.

“She did tell me, and this shit has gone on long enough!” I replied evenly with my jaw clenched.

I bolted over to her so quickly that she didn’t have time to react, other than to emit a squeak as I grabbed her from out of the lazy-boy and threw her over my shoulder.

“Put me down! Jake, put me down! I’ll be good! I swear!” she yelled in fear as I started to carry her towards my room.

Looking back over at Stacy as I strode away, I roared at her also, “You either leave now or get the fuck in my sister’s room and sleep it off!”

She just sat there stunned with an owlish expression on her face. I don’t think that her brain had caught up to what was happening right yet.

“Jake, please! What are you going to do to me! Please let me down; you’re scaring me!” Heather wailed fearfully.

“I love you, Heather, you’re my little sister, but you’re killing Mom one day at a time, and this shit needs to end!” I said coldly.

I held her squirming body tightly as she struggled to get down to no avail, and I shouldered my bedroom door open one-handed. I kicked the door shut behind me and threw her down upon my bed. She bounced there, and even in my anger, I could see just how beautiful she had become. She had wholly entered the status of young women at the tender age of fourteen.

Her shoulder-length dirty-blonde hair was tousled wildly from her struggle a moment before, and her B-cup tits were heaving from underneath her too tight slutty tank top. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and I could see her nipples poking through easily. She curled her shapely tanned legs up under her body defensively as she kept looking at me with fear in her deep blue eyes. I had never gotten physical with her before.

I saw that she was wearing black spandex shorts that left little to the imagination; I could see her camel toe poking out at me obscenely. She needed to be straightened out for her own good, for the good of the family, and for the health of our mother. I loved my little sister, and I wanted us to be back in a place where we used to be close, back to how it used to be before she had turned thirteen.

“What are you going to do, Jake? Please, I love you, big brother, and you’re really scaring me!” she pleaded with tears forming in her eyes.

“I’m going to do what I should have done a long time ago. I’m going to give you a spanking that you’ll never forget, you goddamn little brat,” I raged as my temper was still running at full throttle.