SUNDOWN IN ZION
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Previously, our hero, during his morning exercises, had met a damaged veteran living on the banks of the Arkansas River. Today, both lives will change.
Nelson
stepped on his porch early next morning and then dashed back inside to cover
his upper body with a hooded sweatshirt. The never-ending winter had returned
with lower temperatures and a frigid wind blowing in from the southwest. With
an old pair of white socks serving as gloves, he headed into the chill for his
morning run. Few cars were on the street and no other pedestrians. It was as if
the world had ended during the night and he was one of the few survivors.
Reaching
the Clinton Library Park, he stopped to do his morning exercises. Today, there
was no sign of his new acquaintance Charlie. When he finished, he walked to the
area where Charlie camped but there was no trace of him their as well. Nelson then
proceeded west and climbed the steps leading to the level at which he could
enter the pedestrian bridge connecting the two cities. That’s when he saw Charlie.
The man was
leaning against the railing at the entrance to the bridge. He was wearing a
tattered undershirt and his arms were clasped around his chest to imprison any
last bit of warmth. When he looked up to see Nelson, there was a trickle of
blood flowing from his nose. One eye was swollen.
“Charlie,”
Nelson said as he ran toward him, “what’s happened?”
The other
said nothing. He only shook his head in bewilderment.
“Where is
your jacket?”
Charlie
took a breath and nodded behind him. “They took it,” he said, referring to two
men some 20 yards or so beyond them. They were the only others in sight, so
Nelson rain toward them, removing his ‘sock-gloves’ and casting them aside.
“They have
a pistol,” Charlie said, his voice so weak that it barely reached Nelson, who
continued running.
Nearing the
pair, Nelson shouted, “Hey you. Stop.”
The two
spun around in unison and glared at Nelson. Both were large men but one was
shorter than the other and had a dark, weasel-like face with black eyes that
darted like gnats in the morning light. The other bore a blank expression as if
he couldn’t imagine that there was another person on the planet. He carried Charlie’s
jacket. Both stood still.
“What you
want, motherfucker?” the smaller one said. The larger man moved a few inches
toward Nelson.
“I want my
friend’s jacket back.”
The two
stared at Nelson as though they didn’t understand the language he was speaking.
The smaller man took a step toward him and his partner followed. They now stood
less than three feet from him. “Fuck you,” the smaller man said. "You can buy it back for him at the pawn shop." He nodded over his shoulder toward North Little Rock, and his right
hand began moving toward the inside of his coat.
Nelson’s
left foot shifted and his right hand moved simultaneously. They made no
preliminary motion. He neither cocked his hand nor shifted his weight. Two
blurs simply moved as he closed the distance and his hand knife-edged into the
elbow of the arm that was reaching inside the coat. A loud shriek pierced the
air as the arm shattered. Nelson continued his turn and faced the second man
who now stared with widening eyes.
“Motherfucker,”
the injured man shouted. “You broke my goddam arm.” It hung beside him as he
grasped the elbow with his other hand.
Nelson had
started the process of delivering a blow to the second man but stopped his fist
in mid-air. He looked the man in the eyes and said in an even voice, “Whatever
you are thinking about doing, I would strongly suggest that you don’t.”
“Kill the
motherfucker,” the injured man shouted.
“Your
choice,” Nelson said.
The man’s
eyes darted from Nelson’s hand to this wounded partner who was moaning in pain.
He relaxed his tense pose and calmly extended Charlie’s jacket toward Nelson.
“Just drop
it,” Nelson said. The other did. “Now,” Nelson said. “I want you to do
something for me and if you don’t do it, or if you make any wrong move, I will
throw stupid ass over that railing.” He stood still. “Do you understand me?”
The man
looked over the railing. They were well out over the Arkansas River and high
above it. He nodded.
“Einstein
here has something under his jacket that he was reaching for. You know what it is,
don’t you?”
The man nodded.
His partner was now stomping his feet in pain.
“Reach over
with your left hand and ease it out. Hold it with two fingers … and gently.” he
motioned toward the river, “Let me have it. Understand?”
The man
nodded. “You,” Nelson said to the other man. “Stand still or I’ll break your
other arm and then both legs. Got it?”
The man
didn’t answer but stood still while his partner reached over and removed an
ancient snub-nosed pistol from his belt. With two fingers, he held it out
toward Nelson.
“Lay it
down in front of you,” Nelson said as he raised his hand in position for
another blow. The man looked toward his partner who seemed to be on the
verge of fainting and who nodded.
When the
gun was on the concrete bed of the bridge, Nelson motioned for the two to step
back. They did and he picked up the pistol, still poised for immediate response
should either make a move. “Now here is what is going to happen,” he said to
the two. “You are going to remove, very slowly remove, your coats and lay them
in front of you. When they didn’t move quickly, he said in a firm voice, “Now.”
They
complied and Nelson then had them remove their shirts. The larger man had to
help his friend who was still moaning. Exposed, the elbow now was a sickening color
and swelling visibly. Finished, the two stood shivering in the morning cold.
Nelson motioned for them to mover farther back.
“Know why
this is your lucky day?” he said. When they didn’t answer, he said, “It’s your
lucky day because I was going to make you sorry bastards strip to your skivvies
but I had this attack of pity. Understand?”
“You mother
…,” the smaller man began but in an almost imperceptible move, Nelson moved in
and backhanded him hard across the face. The man’s hand moved from his broken arm
to hold a nose now broken as well.
“And,”
Nelson said, “if I see ever see your rotten asses on this side of the river
again …” He stopped and thought. Then he said, “Or on the other side either, “I
may get mad. Understand?”
They nodded
in dumb defeat. “Now get,” Nelson said, motioning them toward the other side of
the river. The two walked away quickly, the larger man helping the other.
Nelson gathered their jackets and rifled the pockets. He found a few coins, two
joints of pot, the remains of a pack of Marlboros, and a handful of bullets
that fit the pistol. Keeping an eye on the receding figures, he moved to the
side of the bridge and threw everything save Charlie’s jacket, the cigarettes,
and the coins into the river. Then he walked back to his fellow veteran.
Charlie had
watched the proceedings from where he stood. Shivering, he took his jacket and
put in on quickly. “Thanks,” he said. “But you could have been killed.” He
looked down. “I’m not sure that I am worth that.”
“I have a
feeling you are,” Nelson said. “How did that all come about, anyway? Didn’t you
learn anything in Iraq?”
“I was
thinking about that bitch wife of mine when they jumped from behind a bush and
he pointed that pistol in my face. They demanded my jacket and when I didn’t move
fast enough, the dumb one slugged me.” He stopped talking and, after a pause,
resumed in a soft voice. “Then I went into a seizure and they hit me some more.
Then …”
“That’s
enough,” Nelson said. “I get the picture.” He handed Charlie the cigarettes.
“Thanks,
but no thanks,” Charlie said. “I just now quit.”
Nelson
smiled. “Good for you,” he said. “Now,” he took a breath, “what are we going to
do with you?”
“I’ll go
back to my camp and rest,” Charlie said. “Then I’ll walk to the VA. I’ll be
okay in a day or so. I don’t think those two will be coming back.” He turned to
leave.
“Bullshit,”
Nelson said, grabbing his arm. “You’re coming home with me.”
Charlie
knitted his brow as if Nelson had just admitted being an alien. “What?”
“You are
coming to my house until we can get you back on your feet. I have more room
than one person needs and you are welcome.”
“But you
don’t know anything about me,” Charlie said.
Nelson
shook his head. “I know that you are a brother vet and that is enough.” He
looked at Charlie. “Besides, I have a project I’m working on that you could
help me with.”
“A
project?”
“Yes,” he
said, “in Connorville. Didn’t you tell me that you have a friend there?
Charlie
thought. “Oh yeah. He has one of those schools where you can get a ‘concealed
carry’ permit.” He thought for second. “I don’t think our two friends back
there had one.”
“I doubt
it,” Nelson said. “That settles it then. Come on.”
“But what
if I’m a thief and I steal your stuff?”
Nelson
said, “I learned years ago to own nothing that you wouldn’t mind losing.”
“What if
I’m a child molester?”
“Then I’ll
whip your ass and kick you out.”
Charlie
thought for a moment, nodded, attempted a smile, and said, “That sounds fair enough.”
Nelson
said, “Do you need anything from your camp?”
“Are you
kidding?” He reached into a pocket of his pants and drew out two items. “Got my
driver’s license and VA card. They’ve got copies of my DD-214. What else could
I need?” He rubbed his face where he had been hit, then stopped as if
remembering something. “You got anything to eat at your house?”
“Come on,”
Nelson said, and the two walked home together.
