She Is Risen (She Is Risen: The Gun Control Case Studies) (18 page)

            Mary shakes her head back and forth, a single
tear dripping from her left eye after Sally’s cold words.  She quickly stuffs
her half-folded pile of laundry into the basket and begins to carry it out to
her car. 

            “Wait!” Sally demands, grabbing the younger
woman by her wrist.  “Why are you telling me this now?  When was the last time
you were with him?”

            Mary tries to pull away, but Sally reinforces
her grip, showing off the strength of a bonafide farmer’s daughter. 

            “When WAS THE LAST TIME!?”  Sally half shouts at
the young woman, glaring at her pretty, young face like a lioness being tempted
by a zebra that is stuck in the mud.

            “I haven’t had an outbreak for a while…” Mary
replies, trying to free herself from Sally’s iron grip.  “He took me… last week
in the back of my car.  Now let me the fuck go!”

            “Was he wearing a condom?” Sally asks as she
releases her grip and watches Mary stomp toward the door.  “WAS HE WEARING A
CONDOM!?” She shouts hopelessly as the younger woman leaves the Laundromat.

            Several people are staring at Sally now, and she
locks eyes with a woman that is only ten years her senior who is issuing a
scalding look and shaking her head.  Sally scoops up her basket of laundry and
bails out of the small building as if it is on fire.  Her heart drops as she
realizes that the question of Ned wearing a condom or not is the least painful
part of this whole betrayal.  Sally tosses the basket of laundry into the passenger
seat of her Jeep and takes out her cell phone, feeling an urgent need to
consult with her doctor.

            A few miles away, Ned is shaking a bit of red Texas sand through his fingers, standing next to his tractor as he thinks about how retired
life sucks.  He remembers his days as a stout oil man, working hard on the
rigs, pumping thousands of gallons of black gold from beneath God’s green
earth.  His face blooms to a smile when he remembers all the great times he
used to have with his wife Holly and his little Thelma.  He closes his light
blue eyes, feeling the gentle breeze whipping through his plaid shirt; nearly
knocking the large cowboy hat off of his head. 

            In response to the wind, Ned pulls the hat down
snug onto his head, ensuring that it won’t slip away, as too many things over
the years have been taken in this manner.  His neck stiffens suddenly as he
hears the sound of a vehicle roaring down the road toward his farmhouse.  Ned
turns around to see a large Dodge truck rumbling across the dirt road that
leads to his home, the rear bed of the truck bouncing as it traverses the
uneven earth. 

            Soon the truck is rolling recklessly across his
driveway, the Ned sees the driver looking panicked and honking his horn as he
approaches. 

            “Whoa, shit! STOP!” Ned cries out as the truck
nearly hits him and his tractor.  “What the hell are you doing, boy? You damn
near killed me!”

            “Sir, I was driving up the road here, and think
I… ran over a deer.”  The man says as he stumbles out of the truck, using his
right hand to steady himself against the door.

            “You’re driving drunk?  You piece of goddamn
shit!  My daughter was killed by a drunk driver.”  Ned growls at the bearded
stranger, watching him with disturbed rage.

            “I am not drunk, asshole!” The man asserts,
raising his chin, and displaying a full beard that has only been growing for a
few days.  “I came here for a vacation, and this fuckin’ deer ran under the
wheel of my truck!”

            “You take a seat right there while I call the
police to come and straighten this out!” Ned orders in a threatening tone,
pointing with his left index finger at the wooden porch in front of his home. 

            “Fuck you, dude!” The man roars back with
scathing disrespect, slurring his words a bit.  “I’m here on vacation and I’m
not going to jail over some miniature deer…”

            “Get over here and sit your ass down to sober
up!” Ned commands as he strides over to the man and grips his right elbow.

            The younger man looks at the retired oil rig
worker with belligerent superiority, then pushes him backwards with his right
hand and delivers a powerful haymaker to Ned’s right cheek with his left fist. 
Ned drops onto his back from the sheer force of the blow, feeling weak after
taking a punch from a man in his early twenties.  He gets a jolt of pain as his
back impacts the ground with unmerciful force.  The heat from the punch is
radiating through his face as his head hits the ground and his cowboy hat comes
off, taken away by the wind.

            As the man stumbles back into the driver seat of
his truck, Ned looks up at the right tire to see blood and patches of white and
light brown fur on the treads.  The truck fires up with a rumble, and the
driver hits the accelerator, speeding off before Ned can get to his feet.

            “Chemo!” Ned calls out in a hopeful voice. 
“Chemo, come here, boy!”  Ned stops to listen as he clambers to his feet,
feeling a throbbing sting on the right side of his face.

            He turns to look at the license plate, but can’t
make out any of the numbers.  Ned feels a sudden despair, thinking that the fur
on the tires was very similar to that of his collie.  The dog had been name Chemo
after his wife began chemotherapy for her cancer.  He soon became a part of the
family, and his affection was known as her other form of ‘Chemo’ therapy. 

            “Chemo!” Ned cries out as he begins to run up
the driveway toward the dirt road, feeling a panic wash over him as the dog
doesn’t respond.  While he is running, Ned feels a warm drip coming straight
down from his right nostril, realizing that the punch also left him with a
bloody nose.

            “Chemo, come on, boy!”  Ned continues to call as
he jogs up the road, feeling an overwhelming need to be close to his dog.

            The blood continues to trickle down his face,
dropping from his chin in a sickly manner, spattering on his light plaid shirt
and the dirt road below.  Without his cowboy hat, Ned’s white hair whips in the
wind, wildly flailing just like his aching heart in this moment.  The heat of
the sun feels menacing as he makes his way across the rough dirt, jogging for a
half-mile before he notices a dreaded trail of blood, followed by a lifeless
animal by the side of the road.

            Ned slows his pace; looking at the small body
near the bend of the road, knowing it is too small to be a deer.

            “Chemo!” He cries out one last time in helpless
desperation, hoping that the dog will come bounding down the road full of life
again.

            “Oh dear God!  Oh my God; not my dog!” Ned
screams into the sky as he rushes up next to the body of his best friend.

            He drops to his knees in the sand, reaching down
with a pair of trembling hands to grab his lifeless pet, gazing in terror at
the large tire tracks that pushed his body off the side of the road.  As he
touches the dead collie’s fur, the full shock of Chemo’s death is upon him. 
Ned glances at the dog’s crushed legs and mid section, forcing himself to look
away the moment he realizes what he is witnessing.

            “That drunk… fuck… killed my dog!” Ned says
through a series of small tears pouring from his pure blue eyes.  “Piece of
shit drunk drivers.  Fucking cancer!  Fucking drunk drivers.  Damn you! Goddamn
you…”

            Ned turns away from the dog, clenching his hands
into fists, and he begins to pound on the sand, releasing his fury into the
earth.  After two minutes, his hands are swollen and bleeding, and he is out of
breath, feeling ashamed that he couldn’t protect his daughter, or the rest of
his family, from the world.  Ned looks at the fresh blood on his wounded hands
as he gets to his feet, his knuckles filled with stinging heat and pieces of
coarse sand.  He stumbles helplessly over the uneven ground, making his way
back to the farmhouse for a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

            His cell phone begins to ring, and he barely
notices that it is making a sound.  Ned pulls the phone from his pocket,
looking at the display and seeing that Sally is calling.  He presses the button
on the side to ignore the call, thinking only of a shower and a bottle of
whiskey.               

The OBDAT - Chicago

            “Why did you have to kill his dog!?” Maxwell
demands with his traditional, disturbed expression.   

            “Killing his dog and ending his relationship
with Sally is the best way to ensure he is alone in this world.  Doing both at
the exact same time just makes it more effective.” Lorabell says, without
taking her eyes off the LCD screen where Ned is shown walking up the road from
a handheld camera.  “We have reopened the wound of a drunk driver causing havoc
in his life, and the little slut from town was happy to tell that story about
the warts for five-hundred dollars.”

            “Does she really have herpes?”  Henri asks,
clearly not disturbed by the death of the dog.

            “Does it matter? It’s a rumor in the town, so we
went with that.”  Lorabell replies, shrugging her shoulders, feeling frustrated
that Henri has not paid her a compliment.

            “How did you run over the dog like that?”
Maxwell inquires with a confused expression.  “It’s not like a smart dog is
going to hold still while a big truck rolls up on him.”

            “We put the dog to sleep with some veterinary
drugs,” Lorabell proclaims, “and agent Louis ran it over shortly after it was
already dead.  The dog didn’t feel any pain!” 

            “Well it would be nice if you keep me in the
loop on everything,” Maxwell orders with a sinister glare, “I only know what is
happening with Julia Welheim and The Belforts.”

            “Yeah, please keep Maxwell apprised to what
you’re planning.” Henri says after a moment of thought.  “But don’t interfere
with what she has planned.” He continues, turning toward Maxwell, “I know you
don’t have the stomach for some of this, but it is necessary… So what’s next
for Mr. Lawhorn?”  Henri asks, turning back to Lorabell.

            “If all goes well,” Lorabell replies, “then Mr.
Lawhorn and his drunk driver will have their final dance…”

MAY IVORY

            “This is for you, beautiful lady.” The suave
young man says to May, looking deep into her eyes as he begins to strum his
guitar.

            “I don’t… I don’t really feel comfortable with
you calling me that.” May says with a concerned stare, sizing up her attractive
neighbor from across the living room of her luxury home.

            May observes Ted with curious suspicion, this
hero who appeared out of nowhere after the teenagers harassed her the other
day.  His muscular arms looking great wrapped around the smooth, black acoustic
guitar.  She can feel a deep animal yearning inside of her as she admires his
healthy biceps and short-cropped black hair.  He is wearing a tight black
T-shirt and designer jeans with a pair of expensive basketball shoes. 

            May sighs with repressed frustration, looking at
the scar tissue covering the outside of her left leg, feeling overly exposed in
her long sundress. 

            “You don’t want me to call you beautiful?”  Ted
asks with a winning smile, looking like a man on an underwear billboard.

            “No, I fucking don’t!” May snaps back with the
manners of an orangutan.  “I mean… what is really going on here?  Why are you
being so nice to me?”

            “May, I’m not here to feel sorry for you… I’m
here to hang out and get to know my neighbor a bit.”  He replies with a sincere
stare, strumming the guitar a bit as he talks.

            “Why?  Do you work for a newspaper?  Are you
trying to write a story about the ‘burned freak’ so you can cash in on my
fame?”  She asks with contempt, gazing hard at the soft carpet.

            “First off, May, you’re not a freak-“ He begins,
but is unable to finish.

            “How the fuck do you know!?” She erupts with
rage.  “If your daughter looked like this; what would you say to her?  Would
you tell her that she’s normal?”

            “No…” Ted replies softly, realizing that he is
dealing with someone smarter than himself.  “I would tell her that she is
beautiful, and that the world… is ugly.”

            “So much bullshit for one man…  You haven’t even
had anything to drink…”  May stands up with a nervous expression and begins to
pace back and forth in the living room.

            “Do you have any wine?”  Ted asks with a wise
expression, feeling her doubt and desire fighting one another.

            “Oh, so that’s what you want?  You want to fuck
me?  An easy lay for a tired man who hasn’t gotten any yet because he just
moved to a new neighborhood?” May asks in a manner that surprises them both. 

            Ted looks at her with a bit of concern, turning
his head to the side slightly.  He doesn’t say anything, but sets down the
guitar and uses his powerful muscles to rise up from the soft carpet.  With a
vivacious grin he approaches her, holding out his hands to his sides in a
nonthreatening manner.  As he approaches, she stops pacing, looking at him as a
real possibility for the first time since she met him over a day ago.  He steps
up to her and gives her a warm embrace; nothing perverted or aggressive, just a
nice embrace of someone who really cares.