Travel Bug (33 page)

***

Luther knew something was not going to be right in this sleepy little town. Luther had heard about the nutcase who was killing folks while he was in Iraq. The man blamed everyone but himself for his sadistic atrocities. Some victims were killed because it was God’s fault or some such nonsense. Several others met their end in a very cruel way because he thought aliens had landed or whatever. He was just a onetime nutcase now locked in the nuthouse. This current threat was very real and it was legion.

“I’m going to need your help,” said Luther. He was speaking to his beloved feline.

The cat was at the outside window. He could see how the light hit the cat’s eyes just perfectly. His eyes were glowing that bright yellow way. Then the cat jumped on his lap and purred. He smiled at him.

“Fuck, you’re such a little liar, aren’t you?”

He thought for a moment about what he would have to do now. Tough choices had to be made. He knew which side he was going to be on. Even when life was dark and full of fear, one had to believe in something. Despite being socially awkward and thought of as odd and a little pathetic, Luther believed in things. Among these was a belief in social justice and that mankind had a right to personal freedom of choice in life. That meant, from his point of view, that the United States was much more than his country, right or wrong. It was the greatest country on earth and deserved sacrifices.

Moose kept purring and then, to his surprise, bit his arm. It didn’t leave too much of a visible wound, just a drop or two of blood. He was starting to feel more crazy than patriotic. He was the one who was chosen, however. The phone call was for him and him alone.

The cat stared at him with those yellow eyes.

“I’m only going to ask you one more time. Please reveal what needs to be said, this is privileged information.”

The cat yawned.

“This isn’t funny, Moose. This is a matter of national security.”

***

Right around the same time, Martin was worried about far less serious concerns.

“Wow! Roast beef and middle grade beer again,” said a fellow Knight of Columbus.

“Yes, what else would it be here?” Martin said.

“No,” he answered politely.

Most of the fellow knights who came this evening were much older than Martin, at least in their sixties or beyond. That was one of the fun things about being a member. Martin did not want to make a big deal out of all this. The job of the knight was to fight for social justice, help the homeless, feed the hungry, do the humble work of the lord and get back to the gymnasium in time to party!

“The roast beef isn’t bad,” the man said.

“Oh, great,” answered Martin.

This man was talking small talk but Martin was enjoying hearing about it. His wife had just given birth to their first child, a son. Even though Martin was in his early forties, he felt like a young new dad! His wife was in her late thirties, young enough, he thought.

“This is a great event,” said another knight, about seventy years old.

“Sure,” said Martin.

“That’s when things really start to happen,” he said.

Now Martin couldn’t decide whether he was going to take advantage of the free beer here or wait to get home to get drunk. His wife Mary had always worried about the possibility of driving under the influence when returning home from a knights meeting. This was true even though it was only a ten minute drive home. Tonight would have been a good night for that. The silly nonsense was getting to him now. He had just put away a terrible, unspeakably evil man away for life in a mental hospital in Philadelphia. The man, he thought, deserved to die, even though the church felt different about capital punishment than most Americans.

“Are you okay, Martin?” asked another old knight, half drunk.

“Yes, I’m fine. I think I’ll drive home now while I’m still legally okay to do so.”

Luther had a revelation with his cat. This happened at the exact moment that Martin left his meeting. It was no coincidence; fate would make it so that these two men who didn’t know one another would be meeting.

***

“Thank you, Moose. Now we’re talking.”

The man who served his country in a foreign land, constantly afraid of being captured by the enemy was now talking to his cat. This was a soldier who shared the same fears of others serving in a country who preferred religious insanity over a democratic form of government. These monsters, these evil people cut off people’s heads and videotaped it. That’s who western civilization was fighting against. They had to be stopped. If they could not be influenced to try and be democratic then what could stop them from making America into an Islamic theocracy?

“You know, I know why you came back to talk to me just now,” said the cat’s best friend.

Moose looked up at Luther.

The thunder and lightning was growing really loud outside. There was a real good chance that they would be losing power. This scared Moose. It frightened even more so than the vacuum cleaner. Luther was terrified of thunderstorms when he was a child. He would imagine various kinds of monsters and fiends waiting to get inside of his room. Demons, werewolves, vampires, ghosts, masked killers, all wanted to go to his home and kill him in some unspeakable fashion. He was merely a child then. Luther was unaware of the real monsters that are all too human.

“I’m glad that I have you. I know what our mission is now.” Luther took a long breath.

“You’re safe with me, don’t worry,” said Luther reassuringly.

Luther gazed into Moose’s eyes.

“They are very hard to spot,” he said to the cat. “You know that hiding in small towns is a good idea for them but you know people tend to talk a lot about one another in places like this as well.”

The cat looked at Luther without blinking his eyes once.

“That’ true,” Luther said. “They gossip about everyone who is an outsider and when you don’t look the part, it’s a great place to hide. An ideal place would be somewhere hardly anyone has ever heard of. The people to do the tasks, the operatives should be carefully chosen to be the least suspicious of all. They must appear completely different from any stereotype of the enemy in order to maximize destruction.”

The cat jumped off the bed. The thunder and lightning had now ceased.

“Now back to business, sir.”

Moose swatted at his heal and then ran right under the table once again.

“I don’t think that anything other than death by shooting is appropriate.”

Moose slowly started to back away until he could no longer be seen by the lonely veteran.

“I will submit but I am a soldier, not a sadistic killer.”

The cat looked out ahead from under the table and truly seemed to understand what Luther said. They were really communicating now.

“Christ, it’s not like we’re beheading them.”

Moose looked at Luther.

“Okay, that isn’t sadism, its justice.”

Moose let out a ridiculous purring sound.

“Shooting is too damn easy and it can be done by almost anyone, I guess. Cutting with knives in some fiendish, cruel way would be making it all revenge!”

Moose, the beautiful crème colored cat brushed up against Luther with what seemed to be pure approval.

“I understand,” said Luther with enthusiasm.

The cat was rubbing against him now.

“Oh, I believe that’s the way to go,” said Luther with a smile.

Moose rubbed against him once more. Luther patted him on the head and felt happy about it. The cat’s tail waived back and forth ferociously.

“You know,” said Luther. “We hung that bastard Hussein, I mean we could have merely shot him but we didn’t.” He paused. “We could have cut his head off but we didn’t. God or Allah knows he deserved that. We merely put a rope around his neck…”

Luther’s cat ran to the other side of his apartment. He moved back and forth quite ferociously. This time on his ankle and it was fairly painful.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Luther asked his cat.

The cat looked up at his master.

“Oh, I get it. Hang the fucking bastards!”

The cat didn’t seem to disagree at all.

Now the first suspect was a shocker.

Ethel Stephens was working the next morning but that was no big surprise, she loved the store and it was essentially her life. The old lady cleaned up her gas pumps outside and then went in to open up the register. She was in all appearances, an upstanding small town woman. She was a bitter about losing her husband. Had the whole pointless Vietnam War been avoided altogether, she might be enjoying her grandchildren instead of a bunch of silly miserable cats.

“Hello, Ethel.”

“Hello, there.”

“Sorry to bug you so soon.”

“Luther, I’m thrilled to see you again, son.”

He could not believe she called him son again. The woman knew her real son was a decomposing corpse.

“Thanks, Ethel,” Luther answered her.

“Now what can I do for you this fine day?”

Luther looked around her little country grocery store. His childhood seemed to flash before his eyes, lots of memories of the store and Ethel.

“You know I’ve been coming here a very long time.”

“Yes,” she said smiling.

“I’ve been gone.”

“Great to have you back.”

Ethel was trying really hard not to cry and she wasn’t succeeding.

“I hope I didn’t upset you,” Luther said.

“No, excuse me and take a good look around the store please.”

“Will do,” said Luther.

He did just that. The stale candy and the overpriced soda were still there. The hilariously poorly made hoagies and the newspapers no one wanted, all there just like the good old days. He loved this woman but then a deep agent, an informer revealed what she really was.

“I’m ready to make my purchase now,” said Luther.

“What would that be?” Ethel asked.

“Gloves and a long rope, that’s all I need right now.”

“You know, I would hire you part time if I could but I can’t afford to do so right now, son.”

“I know,” Luther answered.

“That would certainly give you enough time to get rid of all this silly nostalgia about my little store.”

“Yes, it would,” he answered.

He was having mixed emotions, well, hell a great conflict. This could go either way but he knew on some level that his mind was made up already.

“How’s that cat of yours doing?”

“He’s extraordinary.”

She rang him up his gloves and rope. Then she gave him a bewildered look.

“Luther, you’re going camping. I know it. Rope and gloves, it’s like you’re a boy scout.”

“I always was,” Luther said.

She smiled at him and watched him put on his gloves. He cut the rope with a knife that he took out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“You no longer fool me,” he answered.

“What?”

Within a few seconds, Luther put the rope around her neck. He pulled it tight and looked for a place where he could hang her. It was difficult because a small little country store was not ideal for hanging someone. Then he remembered. The ceiling fan was old but it was strong enough. Ethel was desperately trying to breathe but to no avail. He wrapped the rope up around the fan and pulled. The rope was surprisingly easy to tie around her. She was, after all, old and he was an ex-soldier, ex-marine in fact. The last few gasps came out and Ethel, after years of life of misery and betrayal…… gave up the ghost.

“God, there is still a part of me that’s sorry, old girl.”

There was no way he was going to just bury her now. Her death needed to look like a suicide to authorities. The underground sleeper cells knew who she was and now they would be coming after Luther. They were everywhere and could be anyone. He would not have believed any of this just a mere few days ago. Then again, he wouldn’t have believed his cat could talk either. Hell, he didn’t really remember buying the cat from the shelter; he had no memory of it at all…

“I have to get back home,” he said out loud.

Ethel’s body rotted away for a few days before one of her many loyal customers immediately noticed the foul stench. She was always a stickler about customers. The lady who found the corpse knew when she came in to buy cigarettes that something was really wrong. It was by an odd coincidence that this woman’s neighbor was Davisville’s own public servant; Constable John Calvin took his job very seriously. His colleagues in Philadelphia did not take him seriously. The man had very little in the way of serious crime to deal with but after all this was Deer County. Doubting Thomas, the serial killer put the miserable, little town on the map for all time. Calvin was on extended leave at the time due to the slow, tedious death of his wife from cancer. A sinister part of him, his ego, really wished she would have croaked sooner so he could share in the glory of the killer’s capture. Jack Smith and Martin Wesley ultimately caught him and they were mere gumshoes for hire. They were the heroes who received full, perhaps undue credit. Then the man was sentenced to death. He was captured. Then he escaped again. God only knows how many he killed after that. Then he came back to Davistown when Calvin was on vacation. Made up some nonsense about alien invaders and killed more than ten locals. Jack Smith brought him in again. He found a good lawyer who overturned capital punishment on a technicality and his absurd belief in space invaders made him not guilty by reason of out of this world insanity. Now he was in a mental hospital in Philadelphia and wanted to discuss some dark new secret…… with Martin Wesley.

***

“Martin, it’s just awful,” said Mary, as she made breakfast.

“I know,” he answered his wife.

“Ethel was such a nice lady… I mean I know she was old but…”

“Look, I spoke to some people today and they haven’t ruled out homicide yet. The coroner’s report should be back soon and then we’ll know for sure but if she was murdered, I can’t possibly think of a motive.”

“No,” Mary said. “That store wasn’t worth that much and she was always in debt with it.”

“It was a dump.”

“Well, that’s not very respectful…”

“Sorry.” He held back just how much he loathed the dirty store.