Scrapyard Ship (2 page)

He pulled out his cellphone. Three bars. It was only after trial and error, running from room to room, that he’d discovered the kitchen was the golden place to make and receive calls. He dialed and by the third ring, Mollie answered.

“Dad?”

“Hey Kiddo, what are you up to?” Jason asked with enthusiasm.

“Just studying… well, MTV and studying. I got a Social Science test in the morning, and I can’t seem to concentrate. Last day of school—half day tomorrow!”

“Why don’t you turn off the TV? Maybe that will help.”

“No, that only makes it worse. I need background noise. Maybe I’ll put on a movie,” she said, thinking out loud.

Mollie was a straight-A student, which he never was, and so any advice from him would certainly be wasted. He changed the subject. “So what else is going on? Did you make up with your mother yet? You still grounded?”

Mollie paused. Then annunciating each and every word separately, she said: “Don’t–get-me-started, Dad, I’m-never–talking-to-that-woman-again!”

Jason barely held back laughing into the phone, just barely. At that moment he realized how much he’d missed the banter, the everyday problems, all the things that came with family. A lifestyle he no longer was a part of. “Well, don’t be too hard on her,” he said, with more conviction than he actually felt. “You’ll get plenty of space away from each other this summer.”

Beep. “Oops, I think I have a call waiting. You want to hold on, Dad?” But Jason could hear the call to greener pastures in her voice.

“No-no, sweetie, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m really looking forward to our spending some time together. Get that studying done, OK?  I love you.”

“Can’t wait—and I love you too, Dad… bye-bye.”  She clicked off. Jason stood there, hovering over his grandfather’s battered old sink for a long while—hanging onto the hollow silence of a disconnected line.

* * *

A slow, heavy scraping sound woke Jason up in the middle of the night. He’d taken to sleeping on the couch in the family room, which was situated directly off the kitchen.

He squinted into the near total darkness, just barely able to make out the soft blue glow of the digital clock on the microwave: 3:23AM. Noises were common here—stray dogs running through the yard, cats on the hunt, and rodents scampering around. Most of those animals made their way into the yard at some point in time. Even after all these years, Jason still knew what sounds were what: the gentle scraping of a hubcap against chain-link fencing, or something munching on the last vestiges of upholstery.

But this was a different kind of sound. There was an intelligence associated with it, like a pattern of noises joined together—something that required conscious thought. Jason sat up and listened, straining to hear anything abnormal. A minute passed without another sound. It must have just been a critter, he decided. Yawning, he started to lie back down… Hummmm, Chickink, Hummmm. It was coming from outside, somewhere out back. He went to the window and peeked out through the mini-blinds. He surveyed the property—a collection of dark geometric shapes, dimly lit by low-voltage security lights, which casted long, distorted shadows into the near-darkness. Jason could hear shuffling sounds, like feet moving.

 It was in the tool shed. Jason needed a weapon. He remembered Gus always kept an old Louisville Slugger within easy reach of the back door. Gus was never big on firearms around the house, not since Brian, Jason’s older brother, was killed in a friendly-fire incident in Iraq. And there it was, right where Gus had left it, standing sentry by the sliding glass door. Jason snatched up the bat, slid open the door and tiptoed out onto the porch. The security lights didn’t quite reach the back of the house, so he had some semblance of stealth. He only wished he’d pulled on a pair of pants—it was hard to play tough-guy when you’re lurking outside in your boxers.

The shed, a patchwork of corrugated steel sheets and old pieces of plywood, was located about thirty yards behind the house. Like the hub of a big wagon wheel, multiple concrete pathways connected the shed to the rest of the scrapyard. Crouching down and trying to avoid the lights, Jason headed off in the direction of the strange noises. “Shit!” He swore as the soles of his bare feet crunched across a patch of broken headlight glass.

When he reached the back of the shed, he moved around to its side where there was a small blocked-off window and the shed’s only door. The noises were louder here—something electric, a buzzing sound.

From under the door a bright band of light pierced the darkness. With the bat raised in one hand, he slowly reached out to open the door with the other, but his hand never made it to the doorknob. The door flew outward and smacked Jason square in the face—sending him sprawling to the ground—flat on his back. In a quick blur someone streaked past, off and running. “Damn!” His cheek throbbed.

Jason knew the smartest thing to do would be to just let him go. But with the kind of year he’d just had, nobody was sneaking onto his property, knocking him flat on his ass, and then dashing off freely into the night. Frustrated, Jason kicked out at the metal door—a loud clang reverberated into the night. He collected his wits and got back to his feet. Spinning around he tried to determine which direction to go. Then he heard distant running, heading away—going deeper into the scrapyard. Jason ran off in that general direction. He quickly closed the gap.

“Stop!” he yelled, to no effect. Each side of the pathway was a blur of rusted metal—but now only five car lengths separated them. Squinting down the dimly-lit path, Jason noticed that whoever the guy was, his head barely reached above the level of a car hood.

He was wearing a blue LA Dodger’s baseball cap and he moved surprisingly quick for a little guy. He looked to be tiring though. “I can do this all night,” Jason hollered after him. The little trespasser darted from one side of the pathway to the other, his small head turning this way and that—looking for an escape route between the mountains of wheel rims, tall columns of tires, and three- and four-stacked-high car chassis.
Good luck, dude
, Jason thought to himself.
This yard is packed tight
. If nothing else, Old Gus had been organized—everything, every piece of scrap metal had its own specific allotted slice of real estate. No wasted space.

Jason could see the little guy was just about spent. His short arms flailed spastically up and down. Truth was, Jason was loosing steam himself. They were quickly approaching the far end of the property and Jason was almost within reach. Jason made one more extended stride and, arms outstretched, dove for the little man.

Mid-air, his ankle bracelet started to vibrate, and then a “beep-beep-beep” sound followed.
What the hell is that?”
Jason’s fingertips had only grazed the man’s shoes before he ran off into the night. Jason’s bare legs hit the ground first, then his elbows, then his hands.

Sprawled on the cement, he looked down and saw the LED on his ankle monitor was flashing red, letting him know he was past the specified GPS limits of his confinement. The police had made it perfectly clear: “That device goes active—you’re going to jail. Don’t fuck with us on this, you understand?” Jason quickly got to his feet and ran back towards the house.
Damn!
Nervously he looked towards San Bernardino in the distance, and the soft glow from the city’s lights in the sky. Jason wondered if a cruiser had already been dispatched.
And there go any hopes of seeing Mollie again. Crap!

Halfway back to the house, the LED stopped flashing red and turned to green. Jason bent over, hands on his knees, and let out a long breath. He just might have caught a break. He turned and looked back down the pathway one more time. The short hoodlum was definitely gone—
well good riddance
. Jason hobbled back toward the house, following the trail of his own bloody footprints.

He made a quick detour to the shed to see what had attracted the odd visitor. The door was still wide open. Insects frantically darted around a 60-watt light fixture, its long cord swaying from the ceiling. Like walking into a time warp. Jason wondered when the last time was that he’d been in here? Five years, ten? He had spent much of his childhood in this shed, watching his grandfather tinker with old carburetors, starter solenoids, alternators, water pumps... but now the workbench held a different kind of machinery. Futuristic things Jason had never seen before. Things machined to tolerances far exceeding anything required by the auto industry. There were three separate cylindrically- shaped metallic components, each lying side by side atop the bench. Some kind of fiber-optic cable connected them together. All three components had a similar glowing blue light, pulsating behind a curved glass panel.

He bent over the bench, his face mere inches from the devices, his brow raised. He noticed several other toaster-sized pieces of equipment, similar to oscilloscopes, but much more advanced. These were lined up on the back of the bench, connected to the other glowing devices. He felt a slight vibration through the bench top. He shook his head and stood back. Probably best to leave everything
as is
. Jason found an old padlock and its key buried in one of the workbench drawers. He turned out the light and locked up the shed. Until he knew what those things were, he didn’t want anyone going near the place.

Chapter 2

Jason awoke feeling a bit more optimistic—actually more optimistic than he’d felt in two years. Mollie would be spending much of the summer with him here at Casa Scrapyard. That was something her mother, Nan, wasn’t thrilled about—not with his recent problem with the Navy, but she’d recently acquiesced. The truth was, Jason was excited to see Nan again too. It had been a long time. Things hadn’t ended well between them the last time they talked. He got up and scurried into the bathroom and assessed his looks in the mirror. After brushing his teeth, he tried to do something about his mop of bed-hair. Even after several attempts to wet it down, it just popped up again.

In the beginning they’d been happy. One of those rare whirlwind, love-at-first-sight stories you hear about but never fully believe is really possible. But it had been, at least for Jason.

It started with a simple blind date. Their physical attraction to each other was undeniable, but there was something else as well. They fit together—never wanting to be apart. Jason was finishing up at the Naval Academy and Nan had begun pre-law at George Washington University. Within several months they decided to move in together, and six months later, they were married. As far as Jason was concerned, their time together had been the happiest of his life. After close, stateside-duty assignments for their first years, his naval career as a sea-faring officer began in earnest. Extended tours, sometimes lasting for months on end, started to chip away at their marriage—a relationship still too new to endure the hardships posed by long absences and distance.

Even with Nan’s busy school schedule, she was lonely. Jason’s rare and fleeting shore leaves were never long enough to fully restore what was lost. Six years into the marriage, and Mollie just starting kindergarten, Nan filed for divorce. She had been the love of his life. Now, looking at himself in the mirror Jason wondered why he hadn’t tried harder to hold on to her.

His phone’s ringing pulled Jason away from his thoughts. He answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“We’re at the gate, can you open this damn thing?” Nan barked, impatiently.

“Hi—oh, yeah sure, give me just one sec.” He reached for his jeans and slipped on his shoes, “ouch, shit!”

The double-gates at the front of the house provided access to the entire property. It was kept locked. Primarily to keep kids and visitors, like the one Jason had the previous night, from getting into the scrapyard. Nan’s minivan was idling at the gate. Jason could see by her expression she didn’t want to be here.

Mollie was smiling and grabbing for her sweatshirt and backpack. At eight, she looked the same as Jason last remembered—a goofy fun-loving kid. Over the past few months Jason had made it a point to call Mollie several times a week. He now hoped their relationship would be as good in person as it had become on the phone.

Jason unlocked the gate and swung it open. Nan drove through to park by the side of the house. Mollie was out and running before the van came to a stop. He hadn’t seen her in months and somewhere along the line she’d gotten braces. Her smile was still as radiant and contagious as ever. She jumped into his arms and squeezed. Mollie’s feet twirled around as Jason hugged her tight. Several bobby pins held down her hair.

“So happy to see you, Dad,” her muffled voice buried in his shoulder.

“Me too, goofball, I’m EXTREMELY happy you’re here!”

Mollie glanced back at her mother and whispered: “Mom’s driving me absolutely crazy. Honestly, I’m not exaggerating… I couldn’t have lasted a minute more in that house…”

Nan had gotten out of the van and was standing by the fence, looking around at nothing in particular. Jason could tell she felt awkward. They hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year. If possible, Nan was even more stunning then he remembered, standing there wearing her favorite well-worn snug-fitting jeans—the ones she usually saved for weekends. Her chestnut hair was longer and tied in a loose ponytail. At thirty-six, she could easily pass for twenty-something. Jason caught himself staring. They made eye contact. “Hey, why don’t you come in for a while?” Jason offered, trying not to sound too desperate.

Nan looked away, as if deciding. “I don’t know, maybe I should just—”

Jason cut her off. “Oh, come on, a quick cup of coffee—”

After what seemed an eternity, she tentatively replied, “Um…okay, sure, why not?”

* * *

Jason made a pot of coffee and they sat on the porch. Mollie was off investigating the house, deciding which bedroom she wanted to make her own for the weekend.

“So, how have you been, Nan?” Jason asked, filling her cup.

“Thing’s are good.” Avoiding his eyes at first, she then looked directly at him. “Jason, I have to be honest… this just feels weird, you know, talking like this after all this time. Like we’re old buddies or something.”