Lucky Thirteen (7 page)

6

Compassionate Captive

L
arki
n
started awake as the door to her prison creaked. “Hello?” she ventured into the darkness. The sliver of window told her another gray dawn was approaching.

“I brought you some breakfast,” said the voice from the night before
. “Are you all right? Do you need anything?”

“I need to go home.”

“Sorry. I can’t grant that wish.” The man came closer. “I hope you like sausage biscuits. I brought coffee and orange juice. Cream and sugar?”

“Just cream—three.”

“Want some coffee with your milk?” The man’s voice sounded light, almost laughing. He offered her a Styrofoam cup.

She pretended not to be able to reach the cup
. “I can’t reach it. Can you come closer?”

“Really
? Why? Do you want to see my face? Latrice wouldn’t like that.”

“Who’s Latrice?”

“She tells me what to do. She told me how to get you here and what to do to keep you here and how to take care of you. She told me what to make you for dinner last night. Was it done right?”

“It was delicious
. Thank you
so
much.” She didn’t try to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Do you always listen to Latrice?”

“I just started hearing her a couple of weeks ago.”

“I see,” Larkin said, realizing she might be dealing with a mentally unstable person. She walked as far as her leash would allow. “I really can’t reach it. See?”

Larkin heard
relief in the man’s voice as he said, “I guess your chain is a little short.”

“It does reach the bathroom though,” she said, trying to draw him into a conversation
. “But it’s not really a bathroom. How am I supposed to bathe?”

“I…I don’t know
. Latrice didn’t say.”

The man took a couple of steps closer, but kept his face averted as he handed her a sausage biscuit and a cup of coffee.

“I appreciate it,” she said honestly.

“Can you carry your juice, too?”

“Um.” She balanced the biscuit on top of the cup. “Sure.”

The man turned to leave
. Larkin said, “Please don’t go. Stay and talk to me for a little while. Have breakfast with me. I don’t like to eat alone.”

“But you live alone.”

“Ah, but my cat always has breakfast with me.” Larkin could not help but feel the lonely melancholy as she thought of breakfasting only with Cyclops and the last time she had been with him, she hadn’t even been able to do that.

“I had a dog when I was a kid,” the man said
guardedly. “He was a golden retriever. His name was Dawg, D-A-W-G. I named him Dog, you know like in
Big Jake
. John Wayne’s dog was just Dog, but I spelled it D-A-W-G because he was a Southern dog.”

“What happened to him?”

“He was in the back of my dad’s truck when my dad and my little sister, Ronnie—Rhonda—hit a deer. Dad lost control, and they were all killed. I was thirteen.” He paused. “Sometimes Dawg still comes to show me the way to go.”

“I’m sorry
. You know, my parents were killed in a wreck when I was five. We have something in common.” She had a fleeting thought,
Another Son of Sam? Oh, my God, he’s listening to a dead dog
. “Cyclops is all alone. He might
starve
without me,” she said, hoping to gain sympathy for her pet as leverage.

“I have to go
. I’m not supposed to talk to you.” The man stopped slouching and headed for the door again.

Larkin surmised he was about six feet tall
. He wore jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, utilizing the hood over his head to shield his face. It was hard to gauge his weight with the shirt on, but he seemed thin, not skinny, but perhaps buff.

“Why can’t you talk to me?” she asked, desperate to keep
her captor talking.

“Latrice says your voice is strong, and you’ll only confuse me.”

“I don’t want to confuse you. I just want to know why someone as nice as you has me chained to a bed. Are you going to rape me or kill me?”

“Neither
! I would never do that,” the man said in a frightened voice. “I don’t want to do anything to you. Latrice wants you.”

“What does Latrice say she wants with me?”

“She says you’re the last. You’re supposed to purify this country and bring forth a leader to stop the chaos.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”
Her stomach roiled.

“I don’t know
. Latrice didn’t say.” A well manicured hand massaged the man’s temple area as if he were getting a headache.

“Let me ask you something
. How can a person do anything if she doesn’t even know Latrice? When will she be coming to meet me?”

“On your special day.”
He dropped his hand to his side.

“The day I’m to die like twelve other women
? You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“No
! No!” the man said. Clearly agitated, he clenched his fists against his thighs.

“Latrice wants to hurt me, but you don’t
. Don’t listen to her. Listen to me.”

“Stop!” the man screamed as he put his hands over his ears
. “Too many voices. I am getting a headache.”

Larkin
spoke softly. “I’m sorry. If you can’t listen to me, listen to Dawg. Where would he lead you?”

The man said pathetically, “You don’t understand
. There are so many voices. It’s a cacophony. Latrice said if I listen to her, the voices will stop.”

“How many voices were there before Latrice?”

“Do you really care?”

“Yes.”

“A lot before I started taking pills. Then, not so many.”

“Are you taking your pills?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Latrice said she could make the voices stop without them.”

“She lied
. Don’t listen to her anymore.”

“I would do anything to stop the voices.”

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“Would you take your pills even though Latrice says not to?”

“I have to get some more.”

“Get some and come back and talk to me. I can’t promise the voices will leave, but I
will
try to help you. I swear it.”

A strained silence lingered several moments.
“Why would you want to help me if you think I want to hurt you?” he asked barely above a whisper.

“You don’t wa
nt to hurt me. Latrice does. She wants to hurt you, too. She
is
hurting you right now by not giving you your medication. You need it.”

“I can’t go back to the health department to get the pills.”

Larkin could tell she was getting through to the man. “Why?”

“Latrice is there.”

“Is Latrice’s voice there?”

“No, she’s there.”

“Is Latrice here?”

“No
!” The man’s agitation elevated. “Latrice is
not
a voice, Larkin. She’s real. She’ll be so mad I talked to you.”

“Don’t tell her
. Do you know where the free clinic run by Charity Chapel is located?”

“Yes.”

“They’ll take care of you. Tell them Larkin sent you.”

The man began to pace
. “I have to get out of here. I have to stop the voices.” He headed for the door.

“Please!”
Larkin shouted.

“Please what
? Listen to
your
voice? Let
you
help?” The peculiar man came into the small patch of light very close to her, and she looked into the bluest eyes she had ever seen—the same eyes she had seen in her dream, yet not the same. These eyes were lost, begging to be found. Though they had deep dark circles, this man’s eyes were breathtaking.

Without thinking, she reached out and touched his cheek
. She whispered, “No, follow Dawg. I’m sure he’ll lead you to safety. If you don’t think you can trust me, trust him. Maybe he’s your guardian angel.”

Blue eyes
backed away and left Larkin alone.

She put her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes
. She prayed.
Oh, God, is he crazy? Please, God, send an angel to guide him. He’s in so much pain, so much trouble. Please, protect him. Show me how to help him.

Something about the man made her
feel deep compassion for him. Larkin could not help but think something about this man just did not add up.
He looks and smells like a street urchin, but the clothes he has on, although dirty, are top-line
. She had recognized the Diadora logo on the sweatshirt.
Only serious athletes wear that.
The jeans are American Eagle, top-line mall apparel. His speech patterns are educated and cultured; his vocabulary, amazing. And he also looks vaguely familiar. Where have I seen him?

She rubbed her own temple.
She lay back and gave into sleep once more. Again she dreamed of blue eyes, but this time Cyclops was with the blue eyes. The eyes seemed more focused, more determined.

7

Confused Captor

T
houg
h
almost closing time, the free clinic remained packed with people. A nurse walked into the center of the waiting room. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have to close for today. I have the sign-in sheet. Dr. Grant will be here tomorrow at eight, and we’ll start where we left off.”

The indigent sick moaned, but started shuffling out the door
. Against the tide, a hooded figure approached the nurse. He touched her arm with some force and spoke hoarsely, “Please, I can’t wait until tomorrow. I need to see a doctor today.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the nurse replied calmly
. “Come back tomorrow.”

The man covered his ears and looked around furtively before he shouted, “Shut up!”

The nurse jumped at the outburst. Blue eyes pleaded at the woman again and he whispered, “Please? Larkin. Larkin said you would help. Larkin sent me.”

The nurse asked quickly, “When did you see Larkin?”

The man shook his head. “Recently. Please, make the voices stop. Larkin said to tell you she sent me. Her voice is very soothing. I don’t want it to stop—just the others.” The man fumbled in his jacket pocket and handed the nurse two prescription bottles. “I need these. Please, help me.”

The nurse took the bottles and read the labels
. “Haldol and Abilify?” she questioned.

The man nodded
. The caregiver looked concerned. “These are very strong meds. I’m not sure we have samples here. I’ll see if Dr. Lucas will write you a prescription. I’ll do it only because Larkin sent you.”

The man nodded again and plunged his hands into the pockets of the sweatshirt
, his shoulders hunched. The nurse went into the back of the clinic and spoke with Dr. Lucas, a member of Charity Chapel who dedicated one day a week to the free clinic, as did two other doctors and three nurses from the church. The clinic was only open three days a week. Those who could pay a nominal fee did, but medical care was available to all.

Dr. Lucas wrote down the name, address, and phone number on the bottles
. He asked, “Does he appear to need these, Sybil?”

“Oh, yeah
. He was telling voices to shut up, but he seems to be seeking help—And
Larkin
sent him.”

“Yeah, but when
?” Dr. Lucas unlocked the pharmaceutical cabinet. He put three of each pill into its bottle and wrote the prescriptions. “Give him these, but ask him to come back on my day next week. Make sure you get his name to see if it’s the same as on the bottles, and I’m calling the police. He might know where Larkin is. Try to keep him talking until the police get here.”

Sybil came back into the now empty waiting room except for the figure who sat holding his head
. She gently touched the man’s shoulder. When he raised deep-set, hollow, bloodshot blue eyes to the nurse, her heart went out to him. The caregiver went to the water cooler and filled a paper cup. Then she handed the man one of each pill and the water. “Take ’em,” the nurse’s gentle voice encouraged.

He shakily took the two pills and swallowed them
. Sybil asked, “How long have you been off?”

“A few weeks
. Thank you.” The patient looked around and scowled at the government-issue green paint and cheap aluminum chairs. “I could make this place look more inviting.”

She took the cup from his hand.
“Is this really your name?”

He nodded.
“Yes. I have to go. I have to take care of her. She’ll be hungry, and she wants a bath.”

“Who
? Larkin?”

The man looked around, agitated
. “I have to go. She’s going to be so mad if she finds out. Thank you.” The man snatched the bottles and the prescriptions from Sybil’s hand and flew out the door.

♣♣♣

Ten minu
tes later, Raiford Reynolds and Christine Milovich walked through the door. Dr. Lucas and Sybil met them, and Sybil pointed at Ray. “Good, Lord! You just grabbed prescriptions for Haldol and Abilify from me and ran out the door.”

“What?” Ray asked in confusion.

Sybil repeated, “You could be the guy who was just in here except he needs to shave badly.”

“Tell us
everything
,” the police detective demanded.

A short time later in
the car, Ray said to Chris, “Three people would identify me in a line up. This is crazy!” He handed the name and information to Chris. “And
that
is crazier.”

♣♣♣

The hooded vagabond handed the prescriptions to the pharmacist who looked at the customer in disgust
. She asked, “These are pretty expensive. Do you have the money for them or insurance, by chance?”

The man reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a roll of money
. “Yeah, I can pay you. Haven’t you ever heard the adage, ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’?”

The woman frowned, but filled the prescriptions and took his money
. He walked to the door, followed by the pharmacist. Immediately as he stepped out, the woman locked the door, flipped over the closed sign, and lowered the blinds. The sign on the door read, “Hours: 9:00 A.M. to 6:00 P.M., Monday – Saturday. Closed Sunday.”

The man muttered to himself, “Must be closing time
.” It was almost dark as he darted away like a long-distance track runner. After nearly forty-five minutes of hard running, he stopped and leaned on a park bench, winded. In the darkness only a handful of people jogged or walked their dogs in the park. He collapsed onto the bench and breathed deep gulps of air. Seemingly unable to help himself, he fell asleep.

♣♣♣

Larkin was so hungry she felt sick
. All she had ingested for two days was water from the tap in the lavatory.
Have I scared the poor man completely away and doomed myself to die of starvation?
Lying on the bed, she bolted upright when the door flung open and her breathless captor came in. He sank to the floor right beside the bed.

“What happened
? Where have you been?” Larkin asked frantically.

In answer, the man held up two full bottles of pills
. Through gulps of air, he said triumphantly, “I got my meds, and ran all the way back. I only stopped a minute.”

Larkin
sank back on the bed. It dawned on her that this man had no concept of time. She asked gently, “Do you know how long you’ve been gone?”

Blue eyes
looked at her, questioning and confused. “A couple of hours.”

Larkin shook her head.

“How long?” he asked.

“Two days,” she answered matter-of-factly.

“I left you alone for two days?
Mo chagren
; I’m sorry.” The man began to pace. “Oh, you must be starving.” Wringing his hands he added, “Latrice gave me money to take care of you. I used some of it for the meds. Was that wrong? Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” He gestured for Larkin to wait. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Larkin
was beside herself. She tried fruitlessly to force her hand through the cuff.
If he’s gone a few more days, I’ll be skin and bone, and my hand will slip right through.

She didn’t have to wait long
. Her captor returned within an hour. “Latrice told me you like Mexican.” He sounded almost happy. “I didn’t know exactly what, so I got a lot of different things.” He set two bags from Taco Bell on the bed. He lit several candles and illuminated the room, barren except for the bed and two rotting wine casks, on which the man set the candles. Larkin watched in dismay.

Her captor
slid the hood from his head and sat at the foot of the bed. He was no longer trying to hide from her. She didn’t know whether that was good or bad, but she couldn’t help but notice the man was very good looking in spite of the fact that he needed to shave. His short raven-black hair had a few flecks of gray at the temples. He looked at Larkin; cheeks dimpled slightly, deeper on the right side than the left; and shrugged. “I’m sorry. I lost all track of time, but I should’ve realized how long it had been. I took the two samples of meds the nurse handed me. I ran from the clinic and straight to a pharmacy before I stopped on a park bench to rest a minute. I fell asleep. I thought it was only a little cat nap. I haven’t slept much lately. The voices were too loud. That’s where I woke up and ran back here. That was two days ago? I thought it was the same day.” He ran a smooth hand except for a callus on the middle finger near the nail through his hair and laughed a little bitterly. “It’s too weird that I slept so long in the park, and nobody noticed or cared.”

The
guy opened the two bags and began spreading out the food. He handed Larkin a large cup of Dr. Pepper and pulled out a second cup into which he plunged a straw and took a long draught to wash down two pills he had in his hand. He held up his cup at her stare. “Coke. I got something for me, too. Is that all right?”

She nodded and sipped her drink
. At the sight of the food, she pointed, “Taco. Chalupa. Do they have sour cream? I love sour cream.”

Prolonged exposure had dulled her senses to the putrid smell
of her surroundings. Larkin bit into a crunchy taco and thought food had never tasted so good. She had devoured two crunchy tacos and a chalupa before she realized her captor was laughing at her.

“What’s so funny?”
she asked. “I was starving.”

“So I see
.” Larkin’s captor sobered. “I really am sorry. And I’ve been thinking. You might be right. Latrice might be the crazy one. I’m not so confused any more. You see, I’ve been on meds for a long time, since my senior year in college. My mom made sure I took them. She would call me every morning and say, ‘Ray, did you take your pills?’ She died, and I sort of forgot to take my pills every day. Then the prescription ran out. Now, I’m taking them again, and I’m hearing Mom’s voice. But that’s okay.” He held up both hands and pushed gently on the air. “She always gives me good advice. She’s telling me I shouldn’t listen to Latrice anymore.”

“And turns into a chatterbox?” Larkin asked with a grin
. “So, your name is Ray?”

He
nodded. “My name is really Raiford. My folks called me Ray for short. It’s not what I’ve always wanted to be called, but that’s okay. You may call me Ray. Will you talk to me for a while? Latrice was right about one thing. Your voice is strong.”

Larkin argued, “Only because deep inside you wanted to hear the voice of reason
. Ray, is Latrice a real person?”

Ray nodded
again. “Yes. I told you she wasn’t a voice. The voices have never made any sense. They were just intangible voices, like I could hear other people’s thoughts—the more people, the more voices. Yeah, Latrice is real, very real. I went to the health department to get my meds. It’s easier to go there than to drive into New Orleans where my shrink is. She was new. I thought she actually liked me—me a whacko who hears voices. Yeah, right!”

“You’re not a whacko, Ray
. You have an illness, and you need your medicine. Ray, don’t leave again.”

“I have to get us something to eat.”

“Yeah. Well, go to the store. Bring an ice chest and something we can make. We need to talk a lot.”

“All right, but may I do it in the morning
? I’m tired. Although I apparently slept for two days, I am really tired.”

“It’s your body trying to heal itself the way God intended
. All right,” she conceded, “we’ll sleep, but where will you sleep?”

Ray shook his head
. “I’m not going to hurt you, Larkin. I would never force myself on you. I’ve never been
that
crazy. I’ll sleep right here on the floor if you’ll share one of your blankets.”

She handed him a blanket, and he lay on the floor by the bed and fell asleep instantly.