Callisto (49 page)

And then they threw me out …

They threw me out of the plane …

The sound of the engines got suddenly louder, then started getting quieter as I fell away from the plane, this black shape against the stars. I tumbled end over end with sky and ocean
whirling all around me and one awful thought scampering around in my head like a cornered rat – I'm gonna die now, I'm gonna die...

Then there's a godawful jerk that almost yanked me out of the seat. I kept on spinning but wasn't falling anymore. Every couple of seconds I could see something snaking between me and the plane, a long way off now, and what it is is a cable. They don't want to kill me by impact with the ocean, they want to kill me with fright, or maybe they're just spinning out the suspense and after a few minutes of this they'll release the cable's other end and down I'll go again, this time all the way. I was never so scared in my life. My mouth opened and vomit flew out in a wide arc. My ass opened and filled my pants with shit. I pissed myself. I screamed like a girl. I begged them to reel me in, save me from death and I'd never ever say anything to anyone about anything, only save me, please save me save me save me …

I can't say how long I dangled in the sky, twisting and turning, but after awhile I noticed the plane is getting bigger again. I'm so dizzy by then all I can do is close my eyes to shut out the ocean and stars circling around and around that way and try to ignore the blood thundering in my ears. The plane come closer and closer as they winched me in, a spinning black cross dancing with a whirling crescent moon. By the time I could see the open ramp jutting out I'm so grateful they didn't cut the cable I'm crying and sobbing like a little kid that lost his mommy and here she is again, big and warm and rescuing me from everything dark and evil.

My seat was hit by the slipstream and twisted like a crazy thing before they could haul me in over the lip of the ramp
and grab the armrests to steady me. When the seat hit the floor it was the most welcome feeling in the world. They yanked me further inside and set me down, then the ramp got raised and slowly the sky outside was shut away as it closed. My seat was picked up and taken over to the wall, where they rebolted it in place, all of this without those guys saying a word, just doing their job like it's a regular part of their duty as aircrew. I wanted to hate them but couldn't. I could only sit there in my own shit and be grateful I'm alive.

I have heard my government's message loud and clear and will not complain about bad treatment, ever. I have not been a prisoner, I have been a guest in my own room with onsweet. Thank you. I was not tortured, I was closely questioned. Thank you. I was never a suspect, only a person of interest. Thank you again. My government has taken me to a foreign shore all expenses paid, and given me a thrilling ride home again, no charge. Thank you thank you thank you.

I sat like a zombie in my special chair, my skychair, and did like Lieutenant Harding said and counted my blessings, then counted them again, and again and again till the engines were throttled back and the plane tilted sideways, lining up for an airport approach. My nose is filled with the smell of shit and piss. My mind is filled with gratitude and fear. I am very very sorry and promise I'll never ever do it again. I want all this to be over and done with. Finished. Gone.

The wheels hit the runway and we slowed way down. I'm thinking now that I'm back in the USA things will start going right for me again if I only keep my nose clean. I can't wait for us to stop rolling so I can get out of this plane, this time through a side door, I hope, and onto solid ground. But then
while we're still rolling this guy comes up to me with no helmet on, and he rolls up my shirtsleeve. He has got this little medical kit and he swabs my arm and jabs a needle in there.

“What's this for?” I asked him.

He says, “Inoculation against tropical disease.”

I should've known it's a lie because you get those shots before you go away to those dangerous tropical-disease places, not when you come home. I'm still thinking this when it felt like someone pulled that black bag over my head again.

I
t was church bells woke me. I lay there wondering if I'm in heaven I feel so calm and cozy. After awhile I sat up to see what heaven looks like. It looks like a room in a Motel 6. I looked down and I'm naked. Someone has cleaned me up so the sheets aren't stained. Over there on the stand is a brand-new suitcase I never saw before with clothes in it.

I got out of bed. Those bells were still ringing, a very restful sound. I went to the window and peeked out through the closed curtains. There's a concrete forecourt with a driveway to the street. Anywhere USA. Who brung me here? I went to the suitcase and grabbed the clothes on top. The pants felt kind of bulky so I checked out the pockets. There's a big wad of folding cash in both. I counted it out for a total of ten grand, all in crisp new hundreds. My hush money. I pulled on a shirt and reached for the brand-new sneakers beside the bed. Everything fit just right.

There's a knock at the door and a woman's voice says, “Sir, are you staying beyond noon? You need to register again if you are. Sir?”

“No!”

She went away. I closed the suitcase and went to the door. Some kind of instinct made me open it slowly, like I'm expecting a surprise party or something out there waiting to explode in my face, but there's nothing, just an empty corridor painted pink. Those church bells have stopped. I stepped out and closed the door behind me. I feel guilty, I don't know why, like I'm leaving without paying what I owe.

I walked across the forecourt, almost blinded by sunlight, and went into the Office. A lady about fifty looked up at me. She has got purple hair all piled in a heap on top of her head.

“Change your mind?” she asks.

“No. Where am I?”

“You're right here, hon.”

“I mean what town.”

“Your friends must've got you real merry last night. Did they run out and leave you?”

“Yep.”

“Well, this here is Vero Beach.”

“Florida?”

“My, you must've been having fun. Florida.”

“Is there a bus station?”

“Right down the street. Your friends aren't coming back for you?”

“I hope not.”

“Come stay with us again, and tell your friends. Not the bunch that left you. Other friends, okay?”

“Okay.”

I walked out and hit the street, squinting hard. The first thing I'll do to break a hundred is get a bus ticket, then I'll buy some sunglasses. I followed the sidewalk with my new suitcase, every now and then looking behind me to see if I'm being followed, which I am not. There's the bus depot, which in a town this size is not large. I went inside and got a ticket to Atlanta. The guy tells me the bus will get here in around thirty minutes.

Across the street there's a gas station and convenience store. I went in and got myself a tall Coke with ice and a giant pretzel nice and hot plus shades and a baseball cap to hide my face. I also got a bunch of school notebooks with cartoon characters on the covers, and a couple ballpoint pens. They have got a newspaper stand in there too, and the headline jumped out and smacked me in the eyeball –
SENATOR KETCHUM QUITS RACE
. I read what it says underneath and it's this – the senator has decided to spend more time with his family for personal reasons which the item never did say what they are, but it's got nothing to do with the threats made by Dean Lowry, which the search for Dean goes on regardless, it says. So there you go.

I went back across the street to sit on the bench there and wait for the bus. I have never been to Atlanta, but I know I won't be stopping there to see the sights. Ten thousand dollars will get me a lot of bus tickets until I get to where I feel safe, wherever that might be. I ate that pretzel and drunk my Coke and felt better than before.

There's one question running around in my mind like a headless chicken and this is it – was Jim Ricker telling me the
truth? I just could not believe all that about Preacher Bob and Chet. They would not do that, blow up a bunch of folks from Preacher Bob's own flock at his own tent meeting in Topeka. That would not happen in America except done by some crazy person like that guy set off a bomb in Oklahoma when I was a kid. I remember that and how nobody could believe an American would do that. But that guy had a big chip on his shoulder everyone said later, so that explained it. But Preacher Bob is not that kind, so now I'm thinking Jim Ricker got told by someone, maybe the President, to tell me lies. But I'll never know. I tried to settle it in my mind but that headless chicken kept right on running in circles till I started getting a headache so I quit thinking about it entirely, which was a good thing because it made me feel better about everything. If you can't break a big rock in your path, step around it and move on.

Here comes the bus.

 

Now if you have read my story this far you will have figured out I didn't write all these words on just one bus ride. That would be a bus ride to the moon and back. No, I begun the writing there in Florida and kept it up through to Georgia, then across to Mississippi, then up to Illinois. From there I went west and kept on going till I fetched up in Oregon and still only wrote out three and a bit chapters. I'm tired of traveling by then and got myself a little room in this boarding house in a small town that I won't say its name out of wanting privacy for myself, you know the reason why.

So I kept up the writing, but coming near the end I asked
myself Now what? It's too long for the
New York Times
after all, much longer than I intended for it to be. So maybe I'll send it to a book publisher, or maybe just sit on it awhile and think it through, because nobody will believe this and Jim Ricker told me not to talk about what happened or else I'm in Big Trouble, and I believe him. So maybe after all my hard work setting it all down the story will just get put in the closet forever, or at least until I'm dead. Anyway, there is now other things in my life besides what happened to me before.

What happened is, I went in this barber shop for a trim and the guy there, he tells me he can't find nobody to take over his shop because all the young guys leave here for the Big Smoke and don't ever come back. Meantime, the population hereabouts keeps growing their hair so he feels like he can't quit, he's a public service now. I asked him how hard is it to be a barber and he figures he can teach someone inside of two weeks, three tops. So I said to him Okay, teach me. He says For real? I told him Yes and that's how it got started.

I learned fast and he says I'm a natural even with my big fingers. I was thinking I'd have a problem with talking to all those customers the way barbers are supposed to, and me being not much of a talker like I am, but Guido, that's the guy, he says don't worry, just let the customer do the talking if he wants to, all you have got to do is agree with whatever he's saying and everyone goes away happy. I tried this and it works! From trimming lawns I am now trimming hair, which both of these things just keep on growing so there is a lifetime of work ahead of me. Maybe I'll drop with the scissors in my hand.

Also there is this girl works in the Morning Glory Café just
down the street. I get my morning cup of coffee there and she has got into the habit of talking to me. I might be wrong but I think there is interest on her side as well as mine, so Wish Me Luck, as the saying goes.

But there is one thing bothers me. Most evenings after I'm done eating I take a stroll through town for exercise. It only takes fifteen minutes to walk across town, that's how small this place is. And sometimes while I'm strolling past the one and only phone booth outside the post office the phone will ring. I know it can't be for me, even though it happens at the exact moment I'm walking by. This has happened maybe a dozen times now so this is no coincidence. I know who I don't want it to be on the other end of the line. Maybe this is his way of letting me know I have not gotten as lost as I wanted and they are watching me still, I don't know, and I'm not going to pick up that phone and find out. I figure as long as I don't touch that phone I'll be okay. I don't know why I think that way but I do.

Tonight it happened again while I'm walking over to Donna's house, that's the girl in the coffee shop. I stopped and let it ring, then I walked on. I have got better things to think about now than mysterious telephones because I am In Love.

The End