THE COLLAPSE: Swantown Road (21 page)

*****

Stephen drove with white knuckles and sweaty palms on his steering wheel.  After reaching the Heller-Whidbey Avenue intersection, Fish yelled through the open sliding-glass window to Stephen, “Head down to Pioneer before we go to Safeway, I want to show you something first.  Don’t worry about the stoplights, none of them are working anyway.”

Stephen really didn’t want to make any pitstops on their mission, but wondered what could be so fantastic down by the waterfront, other than the bars.  Were they still open?  Maybe Fish wanted to stop off for a cold one?  Fat chance of that!

Fish had instructed Stephen to go the long way around, staying on Whidbey Ave all the way down to Regatta, then down to Pioneer.  Now Stephen was extra curious.  Something must have been going on down there.  When they neared Pioneer, Fish yelled through the window, “Wait until you see this shit!”

Stephen gasped as they approached the waterfront.  The entire section of Pioneer Avenue that used to be a clean, touristy area, was now a circus.  Or a zoo.  You pick the adjective.  All of the storefront windows were bashed out, and graffiti was spray-painted on all the buildings.  Scattered piles of burnt debris were everywhere, with one enormous bonfire pit in the middle of the street directly in front of the Oak Harbor Tavern.  Of all the spraypaint on the buildings, the item that caught Stephen’s attention first was a gigantic AWOL painted artfully that stretched between the Oak Harbor Tavern and the adjacent convenience store. 

The field across the street from the Oak Harbor Tavern that was normally used for festival stands and carnival rides in the summertime was the new city dump, parking lot, and tent city.  Trash bags and loose garbage was piled up high next to several vehicles parked in the mud.  The trash consisted mostly of empty alcohol or food containers.  Camping tents and makeshift tarp setups were erected in the grassy area that had not been muddied yet by foot and vehicle traffic.  Furniture and makeshift firepits littered the tent city as well.

It looked as though all the bars on Pioneer Avenue had relocated to the outdoors.  Stephen was very doubtful that any of the owners had anything to do with it, or if they were even alive anymore.  Tables and chairs were everywhere, including regular home couches and patio furniture.  Some of the tables had patio umbrellas or plastic tarps to keep the chilly Whidbey Island rain from bothering them while they drank during bad weather, some did not.  It was still a sunshiney nice day as Stephen surveyed the scene cautiously.  Rain defense was unnecessary, for the time being, anyway. 

Stephen guessed that all of the furnishings up and down the entire chaotic area were acquired in one form or another, from all the homes surrounding the Pioneer Avenue area.  He wondered about how much of stuff was stolen, and how much of it was taken by force.  What happy family gave their away their possessions (or their life) so these turds could sit in a comfy couch while they drank beer or did drugs in the street?

Many men, and a few women, were drinking and laughing with each other in scattered groups all up and down the street.  The area had been taken over by sailors, Stephen assumed.  He spotted a few of the guys from his own squadron mixed in with the rest of the inhabitants.  Mostly troublemakers and dirty-birdies, but a few of the better sailors were there as well.  Just about all of them were grizzled or scruffy, and hardly any of them even looked like sailors anymore.  Most of the patrons were packing some type of firearm.  Stephen also noticed that a good portion of the AWOL residents were barracks sailors, and had previously lived on base.  It was as if they had no where else to go, so they had all migrated to where it was familiar and comfortable to them.  The bars.

Stephen spotted a younger sailor in his very, very early twenties, pushing a broom between some of the tables.  A greasy haired, slicked back kid who looked to be around the same age as the broom guy was sitting with a woman a few yards away from the sweeping.  Greasy-boy was watching the kid push the cigarette butts, plastic chip bags, broken glass and dusty food particles into a pile next to the convenience store.  Suddenly, greasy-boy downed the rest of his beer and hurled the bottle at the concrete sidewalk directly in front of the broomer.  It busted open, sending shards everywhere and stopping the broomer in mid-push.  The greasy kid threw his head back and howled with laughter.  Stephen thought it was pretty messed up thing to do, but then noticed the identity of the female that was sitting next to the beer-tosser.  It was Constantine!

Fish grinned and yelled through the window, “Pretty bad ass place over here, huh?”

Stephen figured that he must not have seen Connie yet, she was wearing a Los Angeles Raiders hooded jacket that he’d never seen before, and she looked like death warmed over.  Her hair was unkempt, and her face was narrow, as if she had not been eating properly.  Even as fouled up as she was, and with dark makeup blurred around both of her eyes, she was still somehow attractive.  From a distance, anyway.

“Okay man, it’s pretty cool.  Can we go to Safeway now?”  Stephen said, hoping to get the hell out of there before Fish spotted Connie.  Two seconds later, Fish popped his head into the open window, an angry scowl etched into his face.

“Nope, park the damn truck.  Now, Stephen!”  Fish ordered.  Damnit, he had seen Connie.

Stephen found a spot to park in the mud and Fish bounded straight out of the back without even putting the tailgate down.  He was pissed!  As the two of them walked up to the beginnings of the AWOL party center, they were met by a gigantic black man in a puffy SECURITY jacket (obviously pilfered from the base security detachment).  It was Darnell Smith!  He was a second class aviation mechanic in a different squadron on base, but both Stephen and Fish had known him quite well.  In fact, most of the base knew Smitty.  He was a down to earth, funny, large-and-in-charge type of brother, and one hell of a mechanic to boot. 

Smitty spotted them approaching and said in a booming voice, “Well, shit!  If it isn’t the dynamic duo, LS1 Hooker and PS1 Alexander!  Welcome to AWOL, gentlemen!”  He raised his arms to display the glorious adult playground behind him.  “It’s a little dead right now, but it picks up a lot more at night.”  Smitty said, and pointed over at the humungous bonfire pit.  There had been many wild parties there, Stephen presumed.  The center of the ash pit was at least two, maybe three feet deep.  Metal furniture skeletons protruded from the ash and half-burnt debris.  Yes, quite a few crazy parties were thrown there, indeed!

Fish didn’t have time for pleasantries.  His eyes were trained at the table by the convenience store.  With barely a “hello” he nodded and tried to push past Smitty, but he caught Fish by the chest with one of his tree-limb arms and forcefully pushed him back to where he was and said, “Hold up there, dawg.  We got a few rules here at AWOL.”

Fish rolled his eyes with exasperation, and said, “Okay, what are they?”

“First of all, nobody comes to AWOL without bringing a little something to the table, ya know what I’m sayin’?  And you guys look empty-handed to me.  Secondly, and more importantly, nobody dies here at AWOL.  Nobody.  You got a beef with someone, you gotta take it somewhere else.  My bonfire ain’t got time or the fahrenheit for bodies.”  Smitty said, and kept an eye on Fish.  He knew something was up by the was Fish was acting.  He continued with a quick chuckle, “The only exception to the second rule, of course, is E-7 and above.  You can cap any of those fools you want!”  Smitty stated and then boomed with low-pitched, roaring laughter.

“Well, good thing we’re both E-6 then!”  Stephen stated, laughing nervously.

Fish looked sternly at Smitty and said, “We don’t have anything to bring to the table right now, but we’re not staying.  I just need to talk to that woman, right over there.”  He pointed at Constantine.

Smitty raised his eyebrows and said, “Well, if you want to talk to her, my friend, then you
really
need to bring something to the table.  Ya know what I’m sayin’, dawg?”

Stephen instantly chimed in before Fish’s rage got the best of him and they were both screwed, saying in a composed voice, “Bro, it’s nothing like that at all.  That’s Constantine over there!  We were all three in the same squadron, remember?  We just want to say hi, that’s all.”

Smitty bent over and slapped his knee, saying, “Oh shit, that’s right!  My bad, dawg!  Ain’t I the asshole, now?”  He roared with another round of laughter and allowed the dynamic duo passage into AWOL.

As Fish and Stephen moved towards Connie’s table, they heard Smitty yell at the broomer, who was sneaking a sip of beer from a bottle at an empty table, “Sherman, get your ass back to work, or get your ass outta here!”  The kid replied, “Yes, sir!” And went back to sweeping.

Fish asked Stephen before they reached the table, “What did Smitty mean by that?  ‘You
really
need to bring something to the table?’”

Stephen shrugged and said, “I’m not sure.  I don’t think he knew what he was talking about.”  But, in reality, Stephen was very much well-aware of what Smitty had meant by
‘bringing a little something extra to the table’
to speak with a woman.  It had meant that Connie was now a woman for hire, paying for her presence at AWOL with her body, and her shitty little husband was likely the pimp.

Fish reached the table first.  Connie didn’t even look at him, she just stared at the ground from her barstool.  Her eyes were glassy and she appeared as if she was either very drunk, very drugged, or both.  TC, the husband, recognized Fish immediately and said, “What the fuck are you doing here, old timer?”

Stephen wasn’t a big man, but he was larger than TC, and intercepted the young husband by the shoulders and said, “C’mon, let’s take a walk,” as he forcefully pushed him away from the table.  Stephen didn’t know how long he could keep the shady little greaseball away from the conversation, but he had to at least give Fish a minute or so.  He owed at least as much to his best friend, for all the loyalty that Fish had given him recently, and throughout the years.

Fish glared at Connie and said, “Where’s your baby?”  But she didn’t respond.  She just continued to stare at the ground next to Fish.

“I said, where’s your baby, Vanessa?”  Fish demanded, but his frustration peaked as she continued to ignore him and stare at the ground with her far-away, glassy stare.  He grabbed her by the shoulders and shouted, “Where’s your baby, god damnit!” 

A few of the AWOLers turned toward the drama at Connie’s table.  Fish was making a scene.  Stephen was doing his best to hold off the slippery little husband, but he was losing control.

Connie suddenly replied, “Elsa took him away.”

Fish was stunned.  He asked, “Elsa took him?  Like, stole him?”

“No, we gave him to her.  She said that she could take him away to a better place.”  Connie said, softly.

Fish took in a deep breath, trying to keep his shit together, and said, “You gave your baby to Elsa, or did TC give him away?  Which one?  Which one, Connie?  Tell me now!”

Connie went back to staring at the ground and said, “What does it matter.  Where were you?”

“What?”

“Where were you?  You left me.  I had no choice.  When I needed your help the most, you left me.”  Connie stated as she stared off into nothing again with her glassy eyes.  Her voice was ultra soft, yet it struck Fish like a baseball bat alongside the head.

“Where was I?  What the fuck?  Where were YOU?”  Fish shouted.  “I stayed on base to help the squadron out while you stuck around with that little piece of shit over there!”  Fish pointed at TC, who was still struggling to get past Stephen.  Fish continued, “I couldn’t do anything to help you, because you wouldn’t tell me anything!  I tried!”

Upon hearing ‘piece of shit’, TC broke free of Stephen’s blockade and ran back to the table.  He shouldered up to Fish’s chest and said, “I think you and me got a real problem, old man.”

Connie started shouting at the top of her lungs, still staring at the ground, “WHERE WERE YOU?  WHERE WERE YOU?  WHERE WERE YOU?”  As Connie shouted, more and more of the suspicious AWOLers turned toward the confrontation.

Fish was stunned and speechless, and looked down at the pathetic little husband as he tried to buck up to him.  Fish took in a deep breath and glanced skyward for a second as TC shouted up at his face, “See what you did to my wife?  You’re a real asshole, you know that?  How do you feel now, old man?”  TC laughed at his wife, who was still shouting hysterically, then looked back up at the speechless, dismayed Fish and said, “Look what you just did!”

Stephen knew what was going to happen next before it actually did.  Fish reached down, and with his large hands, grabbed two handfuls of TC’s jacket by the chest and launched him airborn toward the convenience store wall.  The shocked little man hit the wooden panels with his back with an audible thud and fell to the ground, his breath knocked out of him.  He had talked too much shit to Fish, assuming that the “AWOL rules” would have protected him.  But he was wrong.  He had talked
waaayy
too much smack, and he was about to pay dearly for it.  Fish didn’t give one single shred of damn about the “AWOL rules” at that point.

TC was still on the ground as Fish advanced.  Fish knew that all thugs kept their “gats” in their waistband, and he was ready for it.  As soon as TC pulled out his pistol, Fish kicked it out of his hand and it went spinning off toward another set of tables.  A random sailor leapt from his chair, snatched up the gun from the sidewalk, and then yelled, “Finder’s keepers, motherfucker!  Haha!”  The happy sailor went back to his chair and laughed as he stuffed away the new prize into his own waistband.