The Quartet
Intro2
by ipam
Smashwords Edition Copyright 2012 Pamela Joan Barlow
Smashwords Edition, License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Sun. June 13. Audi. Interstate 95. North. mile marker 157. Hollywood. Florida. 33021. Kattleen Scarlett Kattrell. Driver. Sunny. 92*F. 1:03 p.m. (Eastern Standard Time) “ME!” Kattleen Scarlett Kattrell repeats, loudly her Christian name, ponders, deeply.
“Where is Boyer, Florida?” Katt echoes, loudly, drives Audi on I-95, knows the location of her small town called Boyer, Florida, birth place from different place and time of her short life, ponders, deeply.
That question utters, constantly by her co-workers into her cubby from their cubbies within (IT) Information Technology Department, Charity Kendall Hospital, Kendall, Florida. Both clueless idiots work as lazy computer programmers, surf, swiftly Internet regarding faint & distinct farm town named Boyer, Northwest part of Florida, dubbed the “Panhandle” nearby Alabama boundary line, gots no answer, either. Katt keeps her secret, smirks, lightly.
She is 27 years, 3 months, 2 days, 12 hours, 3 minutes & 46 seconds old, celebrating her birthday in March like past birthdays in Boyer, Florida as small child, no friends or family members, just Katt & Katt’s cake. She giggles, lightly.
Audi races at 70mph up I-95 Interstate against beautiful day in Miami, 91 degrees, cloudless baby blue sky as far as them naked eyes can see from her convertible, sun tanning her nose and shoulder, freckled. C.D. player blasts her favorite song on car speakers dreaming of nice guy in the passenger seat laughing, giggling & flirting with Katt. Not! Katt travels faster at 80mph, accelerates silver racing pedal. Sports car don’t hesitate or ping. Good solid Germany engineering! Her instincts correct. Vehicle ‘tails’ using standard police slang. Gold color ain’t hard to spot on car. Paint job on Lexus sports car reflects, brightly like beaming flashlight in Florida rays. She spots, brilliantly gold traveling up her tail pipe in rear view mirror. Gold upon gold metallic races within 50 feet of her bumper. Katt waits, impatiently for gold to whiz by. Car slows, decelerates, falls behind Audi TT.
Inner voice pings worry. Throat is dry. Tummy flip flops. Heart pounds. Palms sweat. Feet sweat between toes of her breezy sandals. Katt is nervous, scared, being tracked.
Katt accelerates 85 mph. Gold car accelerates. Katt is being tailed by police? F.B.I.? Government agency? Or Charity Hospital? She ain’t planning on stopping for an interview, or an arrest. She ain’t done anything wrong. She quit her job. Everyone’s quitting work at Charity Hospital. Everyone’s moving out of Miami.
Katt is leaving & traveling to new home in Ruby Beach on West coast of Florida, notes second gold Lexus gaining speed.
Katt shouts, nervously. “Slow down!” Bad idea! Gold will ram her vehicle, causing her to stop. She sees two heads behind the windshield with 20/15 vision.
Katt yells, eagerly. “Next option? Speed up!” Good idea. Katt accelerates pedal, coaxes speed. Engine purrs 90 mph. Germans make excellent cars. Wheel is steady. Tires are stable & fluid. Her baby can travel 150 miles-per-hour, not enough hiccup via Owner’s manual. Katt envies Europeans traveling on Autobahn in exceed of 100 M.P.H. every day going to work & play. She dubs I-95 Florida’s Autobahn, today. Twin golden matches her excessive speed.
Katt screams, excitedly. “Next option? Get off!” Excellent idea. She spies for mile marker 157, Hollywood, Florida. Katt knows, excellently roads, uses as turnaround point when she moved her few valuable possessions from old Miami apartment to new little beach house in Ruby Beach, in secret, in private, at night, without being seen or followed by man, or beast.
Gold train splits, literally into two golden cars, each side of Interstate, on each side of Audi, flanks her into stopping. She presses pedal, zooms 95 mph. Katt needs alert mad police officer to stop her, ask questions, write expensive speeding ticket, maybe…even surrender to him for reckless driving, illegal speeding & officer harassment charge.
Exit ramp is one mile. Katt develops quickie impromptu plan, plots-a-plan to jump at exit point from third extreme lane on I-95.
Katt down shifts, expertly to 4th gear, accelerates 100 mph, cuts off the jerk in left lane, glides, smoothly between yellow strips of road into sand, front of gold, punches into 5th gear for light speed travel like she going to Canada. Katt has no accidents or speeding tickets. She displays, perfectly “SAFE DRIVER” tab on her State Florida driver license, passes, quickly half-a-mile green sign for Hollywood exit getting acquainted with tiny streets & back roads of town hunting for bus terminal part of her master escape plan from Miami.
She plots-a-plan drive down Maple Street to Elm Street, drives to police station, parks for an hour. If twins follow, Katt will walk into station, report them. Police believe girls, females who cry. Katt don’t cry. Period. Exit 157 is sight. Katt down shifts to 4th, twice, punches pedal. Cars match speed, anticipating her to flee and escape.
Katt yells, successfully. “Ready! Set! Go!” Audi jumps 105 mph. She twists wheel to right, jerks squealing tires right, cut offs Lexus in middle lane. Driver slams, intellectually brakes, smokes back tires, jerks car to far right toward ditch, avoids her bumper. She exhales held H2O. He recovers, expertly slide as she flies into middle lane, right land, then yellow lines, throws sand, pebbles & trash into his windshield, accelerates pedal.
Second Lexus sees, beautifully her car trick, copies, swiftly her driving maneuver. Katt’s flattered since imitation’s a perfect compliment. Katt anticipates right turn, well geometric perfect sharp right 90 degree angle around road bend blocked by man-made concrete embankment part of Interstate bridge. And…if ya don’t know that tidbit of useless data, ya die.
Katt pulls 2Gs of gravity, rounds curve, avoids obstacle. Second Lexus tails her bumper into right lane of exit ramp. She needs left lane, body whips neck-breaking whiplash Audi sideways, misses Lexus.
Katt prays, mercifully. “GOD PROTECT ME!” She soars like out of control space shuttle into embankment’s concrete indestructible walls ahead of her. Right fender taps, slightly fossilized concrete tip. CRUSH! Audi flips sideways into air like dancing dolphin. Safety belt crushes chest & shoulders as car spins like football to full back for Touchdown.
Katt can’t breathe. Sky is down. Grass is up. She dreams slo mo nightmare. Car moves slow, slower, slowest tiny little motions within eyeballs. Katt can’t scream, being trapped & rotated for second flip. Audi lands, sideways on two tires at driver’s side. CRASH! Audi falls down onto underside carry upright into tall yellow & green weeds. She’s dead.
“Breathe.” Katt whispers, softly, inhales, shockingly. “Smoke.” She smells gasoline fumes, views rear of Audi. Germans build engines rear for speed. White stream. Black smoke. Fire.
She taps, firmly seat belt, unlocks, jerks handle. No movement! She jerks, twice handle, hits door with shoulder, simultaneously. Mechanisms are damaged. She wiggles, snake-like between steering wheel & head rest, knees in seat. Gasoline smell intensifies.
She stands, carefully, twists, cautiously body, tilts, sideways, faces rear of car. Being right handed, right arm is stronger than left. She grabs door with right hand, balances, lifts right leg over rolled down window, touch, barely tall sharp yellow weeds with her right feet.
She plants right foot, feels weeds cutting into toes, ankles & legs from wickedly pointed leaves. She “unladylike” lifts left long over & up, tosses entire body over window. Katt falls on right side, jumps upright, eye burns puffs of red fire & black smoke in far distance.
Gold twins plow into curved embankment speeding & chasing her. Katt hears, acutely sirens, bells, whistles & piercing noises of police, fire, rescue, ambulances & helicopters for help.
Katt snorts, loudly. “Bye, ya’ll!” She ducks, lowly into prickly tall green weeds, covers face and skull, hears funny sounds. POP! PING! TING! TONG! She stands, uprights, gallops, quickly from Audi explosion of red fire, white steam, black smoke, gas odor, coolants molecules spurt, ignite, bombards air waves like 4th of July fireworks. She stops at wild growth of trees, bushes and plants, pants, heavy.
Katt whispers, softly. “Safe.” She rotates neck muscles at parking lot, eye burns familiar convenience store for gas & food located cross section of Highway 1, then eyeballs burning cars & approaching E.M.S. vehicles with acute baby blue eyesight, sees small figures of enforcement officer, cars and dogs surrounding crash site & helicopter in air.
Nosy drivers have reported the car chase. Katt brushes sand, dirt & grass from clothes and hair, walks, calmly out patch of wild woods onto rough paved parking lot of Circle H store, intersection of Marlin and Winston.
Nosy folks huddle on concrete sidewalk, gasp, gossip about red & white fireball. Katt opens, gently door, strolls, casually inside cool room, glides pass candy aisle, potato chip aisle & cold beverage refrigerators into Women’s bathroom, unoccupied.
Katt thanks, thankfully. “Empty!” She closes, gently, locks, swiftly door, pivots to mirror. Outwardly, calm! She washes clean face, arms, legs & hands with soap and warm water, leans onto the sink, shakes, slightly in both hands & arms from tragic ordeal. She’s alive. They aren’t. She’s out of here. They’re out there, buried.
New place is ready, immediate occupancy, ASAP. Quiet unfortunate, cars found her before she exits, completely out of Miami. She has money and backup plans. She’s not a stupid hillbilly.
She lifts, tenderly baby blue shirt, pulls out big bra, designed for girl with breasts of size 36BB. She eye burns folded dollars bills lining inside cups padding her small size AA breasts.
Katt exclaims, thrillingly. “All there!” She pulls $120.00 from padded bra, places on edge of sink, examines, carefully few scratches & blood clouted cuts on legs with grass stains on sides of blue shorts. Florida has lots of tropical plants. Rest of baby blue outfit is free of dirt. Her long wavy hair is messy, not abnormal since she never carries hair brush in hand bag, or work briefcase. She smoothes fuzzy black strands with hands, washes hands, twice. She presses wrinkles from clothes, hangs purse, neatly around neck resting on left leg, causally. She places money in purse.
Katt emerges outside, feels refreshed & relaxed. Heart pounds. Nerves edgy. Katt strolls, calmly to cold beverages, selects Dr. Pepper, moseys to counter, pays with $20, can’t break $100.00 without tip of suspension from simple store clerk. Female might not remember her pretty face but she will recall $100 for $1.31 beverage. Katt accepts money change, exits store.
She rotates neck muscles at street, fields, buildings, helicopters, additional police cars & EMS vehicles, sidelined autos, folks gossiping.
Katt’s escape route works, successfully leaving Miami, then moving to her new secret place in Ruby Beach, West coast, Florida. She smirks, lightly.
Four nights ago. Katt exits mile marker 157, purchases gas, waits & watchs for tailing vehicles that slowed down or turned into adjacent store. Then, she fills tank with gas, pays cash. No monetary tracks. She drives South I-95 heading to Miami toward Golden Glades Express exchange. At exchange, Katt veers Audi to Florida Turn Pike, toll service road West to I-75 to Tampa, Florida or north on I-95 to Jacksonville, Florida. Katt pays $2.75 toll fee, travels 5 miles down, exits Alligator Alley, road leads to West Coast Florida. Katt watches, carefully vehicles following and surrounding cars during her nightly journeys. No trace. No tails. No tales.
She lifts Public Telephone receiver, drops 50 cents, waits, nervously. “Hello! Could you send a taxi cab to the Circle H store located at the intersection of Marlin and Winston?”
Pause.
“How long?”
Pause.
“Ten minutes. Thank you.” Katt ends, hangs up receiver, waits for rescue.
She leans, heavily against booth, drink her “coke” as Southern twang. Dull yellow paints taxi turned from road into parking lot. Katt shuffles from booth, waves arm, signals her ride, enters back seat, lean over front row, talks to cabbie. “Bus terminal.”
“Bus.” Cabbie frowns, ugly, talks.
“Johnson Street near the police station.” Katt details. He eye burns her.
“Fare lots of money. 15 miles. 55.” Cabbie demands. Katt holds $100.00, waves like American flag.
Katt proposes, sweetly. “All for you, at the bus station.”
“Real money?” Cabbie inquires, truthfully. Katt hands $100. He strikes bill with orange tip. No change! “Ok…uh…luggage?”
“No.” Katt shakes, sideways black skull.
“Ok.” He states, twists forwardly, shifts gears.
Katt leans, heavily into worn & uncomfortable seat. Heart pounds less. Palms barely sweat. Throat is wet. Tummy settles. Little voice quiets. She closes eyes for 20 minute ride, thinks, mentally the events within hour: mysterious break-in at her apartment, mysterious murders at her hospital & mysterious chase of her car.
Discovery of dead bodies at her employment, news media calls “a murder.” Exploration of her home town of Boyer, news media calls “home of a murderer.” Paranoid followed, watched or tracked like predator disturbs, news media will call “a madness.”
Rumors circles at hospital has scared her, the most, scared everyone. Killer works at Charity Kendall Hospital, murders patients in their hospital beds, especially innocent neonatology babes only days old & elderly adult kind patients on Hospice unit.
Katt visits those people at night as hospital volunteer, wears funny “candy striper” costume ordered by director. She made a good decision leaving her hospital, her job and her apartment since she don’t have friends or family members but new patients of Charity Kendall Hospital wards, sick kids & elderly on Oncology ward & H.I.V. floors on Sunday evenings. She will miss them, the most.
Katt won’t miss her co-workers. They are rude, loud-mouthed, bold, obnoxious, brass, gossipy, backstabbing, bitter, unfriendly & mean to each other. Katt can’t believe these people attend church on Sunday then act this way on Monday morning, first day of work week. Katt is used to that irrational and crude behavior, encounters same people, same types living in different places and times as child of Boyer, Florida as well.
10 years ago, Katt was scared and afraid, at first, had acquired first job, worked really hard and saved money as a computer clerk, learned about computers, and changed.
Katt isn’t frightened scared little girl, is mature adult, makes decisions about apartments, furniture & stuff. At the end, the college educated greedy materialist coworkers are scare, nervous & uncertain just like her. inside IT, computer programmers, analysts & technicians, quit, move to Fort Lauderdale or West Palm Beach away from unknown serial killer haunting pink walls of Charity Kendall Hospital.
“Bus terminal.” Cabbie yells, loudly.
Katt eye burns Hollywood Bus Terminal, salutes, kindly, hands $100. “Thank you.” She exits taxi, starts new life.
lobby. Hollywood Bus Terminal. 3500 Johnson Street, Hollywood, Florida, 33021, departure station, sunny, 91*F, 1:16 p.m. Katt searches departure monitor bus heads for Naples, Florida at 1:38 p.m. Analog clock displays 1:16 p.m. Katt scans waiting area, carefully, observes low passenger count, feels ticket into purse, part of backup plan.
Three days ago. Katt purchases ticket for escape plan, valid for two weeks, traveling one round trip adventure from Miami to Jacksonville to Tampa to Naples to confuse her enemies.
She enters Women’s bathroom, checks reflection, uses toilet, exits into lobby. Katt purchases popular science fiction book from shop, acts normal, like traveler, finds empty seat, parks fanny on hard bench, sighs, breathes, deeply, closes eyelids, thinks mentally this has been a long day.
Katt whispers, softly. “Good riddance, Miami, Charity and murders.” She has never taken vacation time from work. Too much work! Too much opportunity! Too much money!
Invisible body sounds alto saxophone. “Attention! Passengers, please exit, Port 6 to Naples, Florida with final destination to Tampa, Florida.”
Katt opens eyelids, sits, contently, observes all shifting passengers to Port 6, see elderly couple, family of four, teenage kids, college students, mother with two little girls.
She desires boyfriend, marriage and children. That ain’t going to happen, today.
Katt stands, slowly, scans, nervously terminal, see no policemen, security or guarded uniforms. She feels like criminal, fugitive, nomad, nods, correctly.
Past 10 years. Katt moves different apartment, changes address, packs few possessions, gives away few pieces of furniture to neighbors without expense of packing, then purchases new stuff. Same old routine.
Present. Katt walks to port door, gives ticket to uniformed clerk. “Thank you. Luggage?” Clerk asks.
Katt lies, honestly. “Day trip.” She moves all few possessions clothes, shoes, books, laptop, working papers and linens to beach house, last night. Katt sits, lays book in lap, closes eyelids, calms heart & mind, ponders, deeply the murders, the hospital, the job, the apartment, the car, the escape.
Everyone’s talking about the murders. Everyone’s scared. Everyone’s interviewing with other companies. Charity Hospital Administration ain’t doing nothing about protecting employees from murders or murderer.
Three days ago. Katt fibs, of course to supervisor, hands work resignation letter about accepting another job in Jacksonville, Northern part Florida. He accepts paper, writes 140 worked hours, signs, hands form off, instructs to visit auditorium, fill out paperwork for final paycheck, thanks for working for Charity Hospital.
Katt enters large room, stands line last letter “K,” along with hundreds of other folks labeled “A through L” and waits 40 minutes. Nice accountant calculates current pay of $10.00 per hour with current 140 hours two weeks. Accumulated vacation hours total over ten year employment period is 1,200 hours and sick leave totals 2,400 hours plus cashes out hospital pension plan.
Accountant informs. “You responsible for all the penalty fees to the I.R.S.”
Katt agrees to legal law, signs lots of papers, write full name, Kattleen Scarlett Kattrell and social security number 180-08-1960 about million times. Accountant pecks on computer, spits check of $117,682.49, representing ten years of hard work as certifited computer technician.
She works at different hospitals in ten different locations doing same one job since March 2002 as computer clerk, performs her good work and more, learning and teaching new and different computer languages to become a better employee. She works overtime everyday of week and on weekends. Computer work never stops, never ceases, always problem with old applications, new software applications & new projects. On weekdays, Katt works at 5:00 a.m. without clocking into payroll system, eats breakfast, lunch & supper at desk, ends at 5:00 pm, twelve hour days, pays 8 regular hours, then time ½ for 4 hours Monday through Friday.
On Saturday, Katt works from 11:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m. for ten hours of overtime work then, Sunday afternoon from 1:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. after church. Katt likes job, work, quiet & money, growing up very poor, not improvised. There is a difference.
Katt leaves paycheck in hand, drives to bank. She doesn’t crave material possessions like co-workers with large expensive houses, expensive designer clothes, shoes, perfumes, the fabulous vacation resorts, boats, S.V.U.s or other play toys. Katt splurges & purchases silver Audi in 2009, enjoys convertible roof, immensely. Car accelerates fast as wind chills face and shoulders. Katt pays car within five months of same year of purchase. She doesn’t want any outstanding debt, own any credit cards but her ATM debit card, pays cash for every expense, renting her apartment, electricity and water bill, purchase of clothes, groceries and personal items. Katt doesn’t possess luxury items such as computer, television, cable, satellite, telephone, mobile telephone, radio, P.D.A., iPod, video games, C.D.s, D.V.D.s or other electronic items.
World and national media new bulletins are so depressing, sad and unhappy, talks about killing, strangling, murders, rapes & terrible awful events like passing around old Southern cooking recipes. Katt pretends world is happy and joyful place like Heaven, attends movie house for new Hollywood movies, borrows books from library, purchases used library books for 50 cents at library bookstore, spends, freely her personal hobby, writing and reading. Cash system allows payment and management of money without hassle of writing checks, credit cards, deposits and withdrawals.
She hands payroll check to bank teller, demands. “Cash, please.”
Bank teller sums, quickly. “Adding this check to the balance of withdrawal you have $318,269.41. CASH. I have to get a manager’s approval.” Katt nods, smiles.
Katt signs hundreds of little and big, short and long pieces of papers with her full name, Kattleen Scarlett Kattrell and social security number 180-08-1960, finally. Money will be packaged and ready on Monday, next week. She needs to cancel lease of rental apartment with one bedroom/bath near Charity Kendall Hospital with garage for shiny new Audi TT, safe neighborhood, free of crime where kids play in streets when she arrives from home every day, during the week.
She possesses certified computer certificate earned at 17 years old along with high school diploma from State of Florida Education Board. Mr. Moore, formal computer teacher, has helped her acquire computer training & job in Miami from good acquaintance looking for computer clerk. Charity Hospital pays for plane fare to Miami & use of an apartment for six months free of charge. Katt moves from Boyer to Miami, next day, living on 8th floor of old hospital wing with medical doctors. Then, six months, later, she leases her apartment, buys mattress, loveseat, table and two chairs within walking distance of her work, first year. Second year, Katt purchases used car, accepts job at Charity Doral Hospital, lives on her own, misses Dokey, foster mother.
Katt doesn’t possess college education but reads and learns from library and electronic materials on Internet. Her IT computer applications generates daily hospital reports on her work desktop PC, runs IT apps to fix & correct numeric errors, part of Hospital’s main frame computer system. During active programs, while her PC is occupied, Katt reads Internet on Rob’s computer. He leaves his computer powered “on” during evenings, not supposed do that but he likes to ignore company rules, especially in hurry to go home to family.
10 years ago. Dokey is only family member for Katt. Katt recalls when Dokey was very sick with cancer, could not work at the cotton gin, explained with crying tears that Katt had to work to receive monies for living expenses. Katt is scared, nervous & frighten to work Mr. Matthews Adams “Henry the Eighth” Hartmann, owner of Boyer Nursing Home. Mr. Hartmann owns house, provides food & house items for Dokey & Katt on daily basis, plus pay for electricity to heat in winter time & air conditioning in summer time. Katt has to work for Mr. Hartmann and do what he says being young 15 year old girl.
Three days ago. Kendall apartment manager is angry that she breaks annual rental lease. Katt can’t afford to be tracked back to her new secret hidden spot. If she continues old apartment lease, she pays rent for three more months with checks tracked to open and active bank account, displays current living address in Ruby Beach. Katt accepts losing rental deposit of $500 for early withdrawal, no acceptance of additional damages when apartment was burglarized. She notices immediately when 15-pound exercise free hand weight against door was moved, magically on night run from Ruby Beach. She read that tip in detective novel.
Someone entered her apartment. Someone left. No evidence of robbing. No missing items. There ain’t much left except food in refrigerator & lonely baby blue outfit in closet. Intruder entered through jammed window pane, crushing cheap plastic blinds then exited through same window without opening front door.
Katt doesn’t report to police the incident since she quits job, closes bank account, breaks lease & moves out of Miami, next day arousing police suspicion about collecting $317,000 in cash from bank.
Apartment manager sums, quickly. “You have paid the required $1,800 dollars to terminate the lease, defaulted your deposit of $500 to us for early withdrawal, the decoration fee’s not refundable and you don’t sign a pet release form. I didn’t see any evidence of animals in your current residence. However, I have noted and documented these items, damaged to your apartment since you occupied the premise on January 1, 2007. The damages total $125 even. Based on Florida State Law for Rentals, you are required to pay the damages of $125.00 before you leave the apartment. If you want to dispute the charges you can retain a lawyer for your defense. I’ll notify the company attorney. You and the lawyer can settle the matter in a court of law. What is your choice?”
“I’ll pay the damages. I have cash.” Katt counts money out to manager.
“What’s your forwarding address? I’m required to mail this letter to you as well, state law.”
Katt reminds, gently. “But I have the letter…here. You don’t need to mail another one.”
Manager frowns, ugly, repeats, twice. “State law, your new address.”
“P.O. Box 190546, Jacksonville, Florida 33458-0546.” Katt lies, honestly, making up new address, don’t know if exists any Post Office box number 190546 in Jacksonville. In hindsight, Katt should’ve given an old address in Miami but she doesn’t think, quickly, sometimes. Manager’s question has surprised her. She’s not dumb, slow, or retarded. Her brain cells just function, differently.
20 years ago. Katt learns to write & read by audio and video tapes from Mrs. Oldford, nice and kind librarian at Boyer as home schooled student living with foster mother, Dokey. She plays wooden flute, 25 key piano & snare drum, entertaining her empty hours as Dokey did house chores, yard & garden work, grocery shopping, etc. Her foster mother is kind, gentle and patient.
Bus jerks, stalls, squeaks, stops, loudly. Katt awakes from childhood dreams, opens eyelids, eye burns NAPLES BUS TERMINAL.
lobby, Naples Bus Terminal, 2660 Davis Boulevard, Naples, Florida, 34104, arrival station, sunny, 91*F, 3:48 p.m. Katt uses Women’s bathroom, lifts bra, extracts $200.00, stuffs money in purse, washes hands, straightens her skirt, examines reflection, very pale. Working day & night leaves her complexion pale with subtle pink undertone, no freckles.
10 years ago. Katt is dark golden brown complexion with fresh freckles galloping across nose from playing outside in sunshine. Her great grandfather is Cherokee Indian from North Carolina just like Mom and Dad. They died few days after her birth being raised by Dokey, another non-relative Indian in their clan.
Six days ago. Katt watches & listens to her co-workers talk & introduce their biological children at work during her long working shift. She notes tender, caring & bonding mother-child or father-child relationship. So nice! She loves kids and teaches on Saturday morning ballet to three year old tiny girls at Y.M.C.A. at Lejeune Road.
Mrs. Battleton, director, Y.M.C.A., Coral Gables is kind and nice person, allows Katt to teach the girls rudimentary ballet movements only in first, second and third positions. Katt ain’t no ballerina, never practicing ballet as student, learns by watching CD clips on Internet at work, practices ballet as adult for exercise, loves to wave arms, hands, legs, feet, shoulders and skull round and round like pretend ballerina.
Mrs. Battleton has lots of students, not teachers and volunteers time for free to personally instruct Katt to teach three year old ballerinas. Body movements are very simple in first position: arm on bar, stretch, plies down, stretch up, plies up. Mrs. Battleton observes, critiques Katt into better ballet teacher. By third ballet class, Katt is official “ballet instructor.”
Katt does not accept money for payment as ballet teacher, since she earns good living as computer clerk at Charity Hospital, is very thrifty & fugal saving all her extra dollars for emergency or unexpected incident, has taught ballet for 9 years, quit 6 days ago, feels sad, misses her ballet and her cute, sweet, adorable in pink tutu and curly pigtails little girls.
Present. Katt exits into lobby, crosses intersection of Naples Avenue & Highway 41 into bike shop, points, rudely to yellow bike on rack.
Bicycle clerk calculates. “125.61 total. Do you want me to deliver the bike this afternoon to your home since you aren’t equipped with sneaker?”
“That’s the basket’s purpose.” Katt giggles, pays, collects change as male pushes bike outside. Katt tosses sandals into basket, lifts onto yellow seat, exhales, inhales, deeply, then yells, loudly. “Let go!” Male releases, quickly. She wiggles & wobbles on bike, works leg muscles up and down, giggles, paddles, swiftly, coasts to light speed.
bike, Ruby Road, South, Ruby Beach, Florida, 34101, getaway, sunny, 91*F, 4:15 p.m. Katt exits paved road bypassing U.S. Highway 41 of crowded suburbs onto Ruby Beach Boulevard heading down Ruby Beach Road. North side contains 99% population of retirement town represented by City Hall, fire station, police station, Florida Power and Light, water and sewer office, grocery stores, retail stores, restaurants, boat harbor, fishing stores, clothing shops and entertainment centers both side of Ruby Beach Boulevard. Traveling Katt passes high fenced, security gates, guarded residential communities with swimming pools, garages, tennis courts, recreational centers, boat docks and some large million dollar estates which contained airborne helicopter pads on the tiled roofs into empty lots for future residential or commercial development of businesses, schools or recreational complexes. Katt gets hot and sweaty, works legs & arms with constant motion. Weather warm & cool breeze on face.
Katt pants, heavy. “Good!” She needs good workout, relax, exercise, breathes fresh air in/out of tight healthy lungs. She’s great shape from her ballet workout each Saturday.
Katt reaches open road, slows bicycle to coasting speed. Bluish green water, white foamed waves, white sugary coated sand & yellow dunes occupy right side of road, Gulf of Mexico. You see miles and miles of bluish-green water & clear baby blue skies on horizon. Water will never ever end or water appears to fall off edge of planet. Katt recalls her history lesson that Christopher Columbus figured out that myth wasn’t true, proved Earth was round or sort of oval. Water shines like bluish-green marbles. Sand glitters like diamonds. She crosses street to her new beach house.
Five days ago. Katt spends ten hours on road, leaves 5 am from Miami, drives 2 hours West into early dawn rays of light to Naples, Florida, selects city from Internet sites, desires escape from big city living, disappoints with rental property…here. Too expensive! Too crowded! Too big!
She stops, fills car with gas, prepares drive home to Miami, slows at I-75 entrance ramp, speeds further down new street, follows signs towards ending of buildings to blinking traffic lights, sand, more sand, lots of sand, almost stops her direction.
Katt passes yellow & white marked crossed intersection, slows at little tiny house on right, stops, circles, passes little tiny house, twice, stares at beach house, stops, steps out of car.
House locates 500 feet from Gulf waves. Beautiful picture. So placid. So coastal. So quiet. Breeze blows, gently face, brushes ponytail high into wind. Perfect place. Too escape. Too relax.
FOR SALE. Katt blinks, thrice. FOR SALE. Katt claps hands together, enters car, drives down lonely, crooked side road man-made paved white gravel and concrete.
Two-story structure paints pale yellow with white garage on side. Sign red letters: FOR SALE. Katt stops, exits car, stares at pretty little house.
Door slams open. Woman waves, wildly both arms, smiles, steps into driveway, greets, loudly. “I’m Sandy Middleton. How do you like my little house?” Katt smiles, waves back since she stopped to admire the house and the water to be kind and polite as taught as Southern lady by Dokey. Middleton grabs hands, shakes, vigorously, opens door to Florida room with kitchen on the left, right leads to garage, stairwell against wall to second floor.
Florida room contains pub table built in light pine wood with four matching straight back chairs behind stairwell on West wall. East wall is closed door laundry room containing washer and dryer, around corner was the rest of the open space large enough for a love seat or small sofa with a large square window. In the center of the room, two sets of large glass doors displaying the Gulf of Mexico.
Katt doesn’t want to waste time, getting late, must drives two hours back to Miami. Middleton smiles with dark deep wrinkles, boasts. “I’m eager to sale…maybe sale it today.” Katt shakes, sideways skull. “Not buying, today, how about renting for some months or maybe…a year’s lease.” Dark winkles crease, funny. “I can make you a deal, child. One year, $800 per month, that’s $9,600 for the year plus I’m pay for all the utilities like electricity, water, sewer and lawn service plus palmetto bug pest control. How’s that sound?” Dark wrinkles crease, funny. Katt nods, once, smiles, big.
Rental apartment prices are lower in Miami but Katt rushes to escape, looks for nice and safe neighbor, close but far away from city for bicycling. Dark wrinkles crease, deeply, voices in alto saxophone, sternly. “No pets, children or boyfriends.” Katt shakes, sideways skull. “Good, just you! No cable set, or telephone access.” Katt nods, once. “Good! This is my house owned it for the past 60 years. I’m leaving for Tampa to live with my twin sister. She has cancer and requires my help. I wanted to sale the property but I find the out of way spot is really out of the way for some people around here. The incoming families want big houses with yards next to the schools. I can understand, if I had young children, which I didn’t. Anyways, it sounds to me like we can agree on an arrangement.” Katt nods, once, smiles, sweetly. Sandy sits at pub table, draws out papers, ink pens and calculator. “Carry calculator with me for just such occasions, planning to sell this place, today or tomorrow but renting it just as good. Sit, child.” Katt sits, quietly in chair. “Now, I’m prepared just a like a Boy Scout or Girl Scout, since we’re girls. The rent is $9,600.00 including utilities of power and water. You can send me monthly check…” Katt pulls cash from purse, counts out $100.00. Sandy screams, joyously. “Cash, I accept.” Katt hands, swiftly money as Sandy re-counts.
Middleton remarks, boldly. “Always, prepared, I have a very simple legal document that we can fill in the blanks with your name as renter and my name as rentee for a year.” Sandy hands legal document & ink pen to Katt. Katt reviews, reads, silently Battleton compliments, greatly. “I have a good instinct about people. You seem to be a nice girl. You sign here. I sign there on both original contracts.” Battleton watches Katt sign and date her name in blue ink, permanently. “Ignore the reference section on the form, I’ll fill in my sister’s name, she’ll cover for you, child. My lawyer’s going to have a fit but I think I’ll keep this a secret between us two. As always, he would want his commission if I tell.” Middleton laughs, hardy, double-checks signatures. “The water bill is on the counter along with electricity bill. I’ll pay them on Monday.” Katt places legal rental agreement in purse, smiles, sweetly.
Dark wrinkles creases, deeply. “Well, this went well. You’re an honest and nice girl. What else can I tell you? I don’t have neighbors or friends…here. The place’s very safe and quiet. If you have problems with any appliance, I have a telephone number for the repair man. The appliances are brand new. So I don’t expect a problem. I have a yard man who comes once every two weeks to pull the weeds. If you don’t, the things grow tall like tresses and attract bugs.” Middleton giggles. “Let’s see. New appliances in working order in kitchen, stove, dishwasher, refrigerator, microwave, sinks and all. New washer and dryer. You can keep and use the pub table. There’s a half bath which leads to the side patio for washing off sand from the beach.” Middleton slides glass doors as heat bombards room, points, rudely at items. “You’re welcome to use the patio furniture. It’s only a lounge chair and a small table. This is the external shower for removing sand. Watch out! It only sprays cold water and….” Middleton laughs.
Katt nods, once, learns not to interrupt her elders, needs to go before dusk, drive back to Miami for church at 7:00am choir. Church people get curious when she’s missing.
Middleton finishes sentence. “….move right away with your possessions, tomorrow.” Katt nods, once, smiles, sweetly. “Very good! Here’s the key to my house. Enjoy the view and the beach. Here’s my telephone number and my number for my lawyer if you have an emergency and need anything. Don’t expect to see me? Tampa’s too far for me to drive. But I’ll keep in touch with you by mail.”
beach house, Kathleen Scarlett Kattrell, 18 Ruby Beach Road, Ruby Beach, Florida, 34134, hideaway, sunny, 90*F, 4:48 p.m. Katt parks bike at garage, eye burns beach house. Front door locked. Garage locked. Outer glass doors locked. Outer windows locked, around patio, folded furniture against the wall. Katt scans racked over sand dunes and pulled sea oats, decorative ornamental grass of wheat-like panicles beautifying shoreline and preserves sand system.
She enters, scans Florida room. Kitchen is neat and spotless. Appliances are “off.” Garage door locked. Floors cleaned. No sand. No foot prints. No dead bodies. She giggles, lightly. Bathroom is neat and spotless. Sliding doors closed. Cloth blinds closed. She slides blinds and doors open, bombards floors, walls & ceiling with hot Florida sunlight.
Katt admires small loveseat & matching ottoman draped in baby blue fabric. She giggles. Baby blue is her favorite color matching her pupils. Katt had found piece of tacky furniture in discount section of store marked down by 80% for $200 with matching ottoman. Delivery fee was $65 to beach house since she doesn’t own a vehicle…anymore.
Katt rushes upstairs, scans hallway with her books and adventure/action novels. Master bedroom contains queen-sized mattress top of box springs without metal bed frame preventing cheap bed shaking from shoddy workmanship, hides $317,000 cash. She giggles, lightly, thinks, mentally that money is literally “under the mattress.” Katt scoots heavy mattress left, lifts easy box springs high, eye burns cotton sock tucked in corner like dirty laundry forever forgotten. Height, depth and position correct. No one found money. No one moved torn dirty smelly sock. She’s a genius, giggles, lightly, drops bed springs, shifts mattress back in place.
Katt changes into cotton torn T-shirt and shirts, jogs downstairs, feels good to be home, not more night time driving to Miami for work, for church, for money, for appearances. She’s unemployed, giggles, retired just like millionaire for one year, maybe two.
Katt bounces into kitchen, hunts food, sees single bottled water, no canned food. No fruit. No boxed food. She’s so absent minded at age 27…now…before she is sharp, focused and analytical at work at Charity Hospital. Now, she feels relaxed, calm and safe.
She finishes list: food, drinks, toilet paper, napkins, Kleenex….and suntan lotion. She hasn’t used lotion on her skin in ten years, needs two bottles of aloe in case of burning. Katt steps outside, mounts new bike to grocery store with happy thoughts, then feels sad thoughts living here for two years alone…her choice, her decision.
Katt will miss touching NICA babies in hospital, elderly kind people in Hospice floor, kids on Oncology floor & cats, dogs at animal shelter in Coral Gables, Florida.
Sat. June 13. Saturn. Interstate 95. North. mile marker 157. Hollywood. Florida. 33021. Nell Nan Hartmann. Driver. Sunny. 91*F. 1:06 p.m. (Eastern Standard Time). “HER!” Nell Nan Hartmann yells, speeding, follows silver Audi TT convertible on I-95 leaving Katt’s apartment in Kendall.
Nell accelerates blue crap car as racing streaks of gold tail Audi, impresses with Katt’s driving skills of sports car. Audi dances like white lightning middle land into left land like space shuttle up into the Heavens completing its assigned space mission. Nell can’t believe her baby blue eyes. Audi re-crosses all three lanes of light traffic on I-95 sliding & braking sideways into the media strip, spitting sand & trash in air on Lexus, exits, successfully mile marker 157 to Hollywood, Florida.
Nell maneuvers slow poke Saturn by stalled, stopped and moving cars and people lining & gawking at bloody accident scene as E.M.S. vehicles rush from behind whistling with sirens and bells forcing cars off Interstate swiftly.
Nell stops, suddenly Saturn in media strip, more grass, rather than street, rotates neck muscles, vividly witnessing racing cars crash head-on into 90 degree concrete embankment. Cars, trucks and S.U.V.s whip left & right from flying debris, black smoke & mess. Nell ponders, deeply dead fools in cars paid to tag the Audi.
Nell leans against car, watches smoke, fires, trash, cars & people, misses Katt & Katt’s car probably roasted pig like dead fools. Well, she gots her revenge. Katt is dead. Nell twists right as left eyeball spots tea tiny figure in far distance moving towards stores & streets.
Second explosion of red fires, blue flames, black and white smoke plummet air waves. Nell enters car, races down side street of Hollywood, turns left perpendicular street between two gas and food stores, parks across Highway 41, sees Katt walk out of forest like Jesus Christ into gas station, waits, impatiently, witnesses 15 minutes, later, yellow taxi cab next to air pump & vacuum cleaner.
Nell starts car, follows taxi to Hollywood Bus Terminal, parks, see Katt enter terminal, rushes into lobby, sits, observantly hard bench, searches for Katt, sees Katt exit terminal for bus ride to Naples.
Bus leaves…now. Nell needs bus ticket, doesn’t have extra money for gas in Saturn, plots-a-plan to help upset mother & her two annoying brats, tricks, very well.
Porter calls for Naples ride. Nell abandons crying kids, sits, quickly in rear of bus near nasty compact gray squared shit bathroom compartment without company, desires peace and quiet, closes eyelids, feels only pain and suffering of youth.
Thirteen years ago. Night of March third, Nell is 15 years old, cheerleader, president of Future Homemakers of America, honor student, sings church choir, baby sits children during church preaching, good kid. Moon beams onto her bedroom window as Henry & Henrietta finishes nosily fucking in their bedroom.
Every night, Nell’s female sexual biological urges race from them sex books shown by her best girlfriend at school to her teen active mind. June snatches them sex books from her Ma’s hidden bedroom closet, sees pictures of large breasts, big penises, muscular chests & bigger balls. Yancy best girlfriend in school brings Playgirl magazines from her older sister. They giggle, laugh, learn about sex.
Ma ain’t discussing that dirty word with her youngling. So, Nell uses her imagination along with her fingers, touching & probing her body. So nice! She thinks, mentally nasty pictures of penises. People fucking people. Women fucking women. Men fucking men. Her vagina stretches open, trickles hot mucus from blonde hairs onto cool sheets. She touches, moans, probes, deeper, moans, loudly. So nice!
Nell turns 15 on her birthday, January first, is very popular & promiscuous, teases, flirts with school boys, wears pink skirts short, blonde hair long & pink heels higher than 3 inches. Ma bitches every morning before school bus pick up. Pa comes to rescue, smiles, chuckles, teases at breakfast. “She looks cute.”
Pa gets a hard on, ejaculates into his briefs looking, staring & studying Nell in short skirts barely covering her ass, four inch cheap heels stripped over her long tanned legs, purchases all clothing items for his daughter. She giggles, flaunts, prisses for him.
Her stomach flip flops. Henry watches her, not for loving protection and security. Instead, Matthew Adams Hartmann, VIII watches for love pleasure and lust, waits for Nell to reach the golden age of 15 years old. Wait! Nell turned 15 years in January, not March.
Third of March, Nell drifts, lightly into sleep while masturbating from nosily sounds of her parents fucking next door bedroom. Nell’s active mind follows the progress: him top her sliding his wet sticky dick in/out, in/ out, grunting loudly as she screams, higher. Her screams enlarges Nell’s pussy painfully. His grunting cause female juices to flow onto bed sheets. His and her sounds cease next door. Nell probes, deeply with index finger, deeper and deeper. So nice!
Door whips open, suddenly. Her Father nicknamed “Henry the Eighth” stands in archway, background absent of light, grunts animal sounds. Nell covers, quickly naked body with bed sheet to neck. Pa smiles, advances, smells of alcohol within her nostrils from door way.
Henry the Eighth never gets drunk, only buzzed. Pa got thrills & excited. Nell has never seen Pa get mad, only get even. He is kind to his wife, kissing & grabbing her ass while fucking wife in private inside their bedroom behind closed doors. Nell hears, clearly fucking sounds, grunts, screams. Henry moves to edge of Nell’s mattress.
Pa talks, boldly. “Well, kid, tonight’s your induction.” Nell frowns, ugly, ponder, deeply.
Pa shuffles from edge of mattress to side, wears full birthday suit, nude & naked pale white skin. Henry don’t like sunshine, avoids Florida heat, light and sun rays, works out, fit for old man of 34 years. His chest is muscular & curved, not flat. His legs long & muscled. His arms muscled & strong. His face gleams sweat & lust. His dick elongates, thick rounded, throbs blue vessels & leaks clear mucus from massive tip. His balls puffs in perfect like round circles surrounded by blonde hair.
Pa grunts in animal sounds, places single leg on bed frame. His dick dances in air like prancing ballerina. Nell eye gleams pale dick elongated upright, rounded, full, pulsating with life, leaking faster the clear substance from the tip.
“A beauty…ain’t it?” Pa praises his treasure. Nell stares at cock.
Pa lifts other leg onto Nell’s bed on fours in doggie stance. His arms bent at elbows. His legs bent at knees. His dick bounces, joyously to her. He crawls, slowly on hands and feet to her, grins, devilishly. Nell pulls, tightly bedcovers to her lips. He grabs bedspread with single hand, jerks, powerfully both bed sheets & covers from her body. Man pull stings her hands from force of the jerk. Bed fabrics fly over side of bed onto floor.
Pa chuckles, lightly, grins, toothy. “Ready for me, kid.” Nell is nude & naked, playing with herself when Pa entered her bedroom, folds, quickly arms over small breasts, pulls legs to her flat stomach. “Gentle. Henrietta tells me.” Pa whispers, softly, grins, toothy, chuckles, lightly.
“Pa?” Nell cries, shockingly.
“Hush up, kid. Ain’t your Pa. I’m your king…King Henry.” He chuckles, smiles, evilly.
Pa crawls, slowly over her folded legs, covers her breasts with his shadow. Nell feels his heat, his sweat, sobs, lightly. Pa pulls, gently her blonde hair from face, wipes, tenderly her wet tears from baby blue Angel eyes balls, touches, lovingly her face with his soft finger pads.
Pa whispers, softly into her ears. “Induction. All Boyer girls get inducted at fifteen. You got a Pa but it ain’t me. Henrietta ain’t your Ma, either. When kids born at hospital, people just take them. So, I took you….you are mine…to do with as I please, since I ain’t your real…daddy. You’re your King Henry.”
Ten years ago. Brad & Nell are betrothed to marry as dictated by Boyer township. Brad quits high school, joins Air Force in December at 18 years old. Brad is sick of people & Boyer, Florida. Brad & Nell talk, plot to escape from Boyer, Florida. When Nell graduates high school, Brad will marry her, move to Germany, start new life, together. Nell can leave King Henry, the high school, the city, the state & U.S.A. at 18 years without high school diploma. Brad got his G.E.D. instead but he wants Nell to stay in school get her high school diploma. Brad will return on graduation day. They’d live happily normal lives, traveling the world while he’s in USA military have cute little blonde children like him and her.
At midnight, Nell turns 18 years old and…if King Henry tries to fuck her, she’ll claim rape like old dirty minded man Sheriff Matt knows the difference being another sick Boyerian who fucks his adopted daughter, too. Gawd! If Nell could tell a nice honest lawyer about this…family “thing” the entire town would go to jail? To Hell? Or to somewhere that she ain’t?
Morning brights room with Florida sunshine & King Henry, dressed in jeans proper for work. He orders, flatly. “Get out!” Time for you to leave. Look, kid. Ya done here. Need to go.”
Nell pulls bedcovers to neck, reminds, gently. “I’m getting married…” King Henry is not her Pa but he takes care of food, shelter, school, clothes past 18 years. He could wait until she graduates high school, then she’s gone faster than Cat I hurricane winds to Germany with Brad.
“Brad’s dead. Get his ass wiped out raid over there. Blown to bits by bomb.” Henry hands over paper telegram. Nell reads, silently. Henry voices, loudly. “No body. No fucking funeral. Brad a traitor…traitor to us…here…in Boyer. Brad got his goddamn dessert.” Henry talks, angrily, then laughs, hardy. Nell understands, completely. They don’t want you to leave, get away, be fucking normal. They want you to be a whore for the rest of the men in damn Boyer, Florida. Every girl’s dream, a Boyer whore. Not Nell, she wants to leave Boyer, Florida. She had planned to leave with Brad to be married, have children, live away from here. Henry orders, softly. “Listen, kid. Have to leave. Can’t stay. Move to Pensacola, get a job or something.”
Nell reminds, bravely. “I’m a Hartmann…”
“You’re a whore...that’s all your good for...whore…W.H.O.R.E...whore. Ya damaged. No kids. I fuck girls for years. Know what blooding time is. Ya bleed for one day, then stop.” King Henry reports, accurately his female observation. He likes to fuck during Nell’s monthly menstruations, likes her blowjobs, too. Nell has been fucked every day since 15 years old. She is a whore. “Stupid whore. That means ya can’t have kids. Eggs are damaged. No children.” Nell feels different inside her biological body. Henry explains, fully. “Ya a pretty whore and no good to us here. Kids. We need kids to continue our Boyer tradition. Get out! Go find another guy to fuck ....he take care of you...” King Henry reaches for her pretty face.
She whips, violently skull from his hand. King Henry grunts, loudly, storms, swiftly out archway as door slams shut, nosily. Nell sobs, lightly wet tears bombard cheekbones. Brad’s dead. King Henry wants her out. Henrietta, her fake Ma can’t help. Sheriff Matt is descent guy, can’t help. No Hartmann will help her. She changes, slowly into clothes, grabs small pink bag from closet.
Nell doesn’t have lots of worldly possessions, sports trophies & academic certificates from high school. Don’t give a shit about high school, or her Boyer half-sisters or her half-brothers. Nell is smart, smarter than the shitty whoring girls..here. She is cheerleader, popular, makes good grades, leave Boyer, go to college, make something best then Boyer whore.
Nell unzips bags, spots real USA military ID to Germany. Brad had given her the USA military ID before her left on the bus…just in case. Gawd! Nell sobs, lightly. Brad have given this…in case something went wrong in Boyer for Nell to run away and fly to Germany to be with him. She cries, lightly. Brad really loved and cared for her. Nell packs, swiftly clothes, small money from Brad & USA military ID.
Nell enters kitchen, eye burns smiling Henrietta. Ma sings & cleans, happily kitchen counters while drinks her sweet iced tea, composed of water and Tennessee Jack Daniel’s corn whiskey. Nell talks, loudly. “Ma.”
“Kid.” Henrietta yells, sweetly, grins, silly, chuckles, lightly. She calls Nell the marked nickname “kid.” Nell believes Henrietta can’t remember her Christian name being buzzed with alcohol or stoned with pot…all hours of day & night. Nell ain’t Henrietta’s real daughter. Henrietta knows, truthfully that medical fact since Nell came from hospital. However, Henrietta has cared & loved Nell for 18 years like a real Ma. Nell sobs, lightly. Henrietta talks, slowly. “Getting hitched to Brad. He good boy, kid. Ya moving to Germany. Henry says. Miss ya, kid. Ya goings nice places.” Henrietta adds, sadly. Nell understands, completely that the Boyer men run this goddamn town with Henry as fucking King pimp. Nell hugs, lovingly Henrietta, lies, honestly about Henry’s fib, offers to write her letters from Germany.
Nell shuts, gently front door of home, walks down brick steps, neck snaps to window of her bedroom, her old house, her old life one last time. Good bye fucking assholes!
Nell walks in sneakers down Florida Avenue pass the graveyard, her steepled-church, her high school, her City hall, the center of Boyer. Bus stop sign plants across from General store where she and Brad raced inside purchase cold sodas, quickly before horse shit bombards their nostrils. She giggles, girly. Bus runs every thirty minutes into Pensacola.
Tears stream down cheekbones as bus arrives. Pays coinage fare to major hub in Cantonment, rides into major city of Pensacola, Nell purchases ticket Warrington Air Force base, rides new bus, sobs, lightly with mixed emotions. Inside base, Nell explains she is Brad’s widower, shows fake ID. Badge has her real name as Nell Hartmann. Brad is Hartmann, too. They believe her story. Nell actually believes Brad could be her fucking half-brother.
USA Air Force is nice and kind to Nell, arranges seat on transport planes to Germany, immediately leaving USA, Florida and Boyer, forever. Nell wraps wool blanket around her body, dreams of education, money & taking care of herself. No one else is going to do for her. She’s on her own….her way to paradise.
January 5, Germany. Colder & wetter then panhandle of Florida, Nell hates, Germany immediately. Nell gets widower benefits of $5,893.41 after USA taxes, use of free apartment for six months until tossed on her ass, job at grocery store or “P.X.” as military terms.
Nell works 7:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. during day and some overtime, stands all day on feet with lousy 15-minute breaks in a.m. and p.m. & short 30 minutes for lunch or...ya didn’t get paid your USA dollars, works Saturdays and Sundays for eight hours, needs money. Reality sucks.
Nell returns home, grabs USA letter from mailbox, sees name Henrietta Hartmann, excites with prospect of going back home to Boyer, rips lip, reads, silently.
Henrietta writes, happily that Nell is married to Brad. King Henry lies, honestly & feeds booze & drugs into Henrietta’s minds. Nell sobs, lightly. Henrietta never will know the truth about her only daughter. Nell will never ever go back home to Boyer.
Henrietta writes, happily that she loses fatty body pounds, eats properly, stops drinking her sweet tea, exercises, daily. Nell smiles, sweetly. Henrietta is happy and healthy since she is Nell’s only Ma.
Henrietta writes, mysteriously that King Henry recruits more old farts for Nursing Home, makes lots of money. Nell snorts, lightly. King Henry is happy, also.
Nell places, gently letter on counter, dives into hamburger, French fries, vanilla shake, kicks sneakers off tired body from work, ponders, deeply writing letter to Henrietta, switches gears, thinks, mentally that Nell must creates lies about happy marriage with dead Brad. Nell sighs, breathes, deeply. Her shitty life is demon tale, not Angel song.
January 18. USA Sentinel Research Laboratory wears three tall, slender dark brown buildings across street from P.X., Nell’s work place. Nell spreads brown bagged favored sandwich, tuna fish with mago on white bread for Ira, shifts short stacks of green paper and laptop. Nell hates, passionately tuna & fish being allergic. Nell smiles, sweetly at him, needs him to eat, live and play.
Nell walks, taps clear caged container with active pale yellow-colored scorpion. “Hey, kid!”
“Deathstalker.”
Nell eye burns & teases the old man. “Ain’t we being too pessimistic, sugar?”
Ira chews, quickly, begins lecture. “The anaroid is called Leiurus quinquestriatus, known as the Deathstalker scorpion which holds the key ingredient of my super secret research. He’s the villain. And they are the heroes.” Ira points, rudely at rodents prancing around second glass tank, small, tiny, gray trimmed furry bodies & pink noses, squeaky sounding mice. Nell two-steps, taps on glass. Ira lectures, academically. “The Deathstalker is a species of scorpion and a member of the Buthidae family.” Nell hates, passionately Ira when boasts about his Ph.D in science and math, since she got nothing but sore knee caps, blistered feet and bruised elbows for work as cashier at PX. Ira continues, mildly. “It is known as Palestine yellow scorpion, Omdurman scorpion and Israeli desert scorpion which is brightly colored, see it. It can be straw yellow in color or sometimes lime green and grows to 4.5 inches in length, tiny in comparison to other scorpions with a long thin tail and slender pedipalps. The creature is found in desert and scrubland habitats ranging form North Africa to the Middle East and lives in Israel, where I’m from.”
Ira lifts tiny mice in air, stabs tiny needle into body, and replaces with brothers and sisters in litter. “Tomorrow, I will examine my results which will cure cancer. All cancers of entire world, I’m going to wipe it all out. People will be happy and healthy, rejoicing my name and rewarding me money. The key ingredient is the venom of the Deathstalker.”
Nell expresses, personally. “I thought all venom was poisonous to humans.”
Ira corrects, educationally. “To address your Southern redneck lacking education, your answer is wrong as usual. All known scorpion species possess venom used to primarily kill or paralyze their prey so it can be eaten. The toxin is fast-acting for an effective capture.” He chuckles. “The toxin is also used as a defense against predators. The venom is a mixture of compounds which includes neurotoxins, enzyme inhibitors and other things you won’t understand. This molecule is the toxin causes a different effect on each target animal.”
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