Stormy Night

By

"It was a dark and stormy night..."

The rain blew ranks of fine spray across the pavement as cars hissed from down Currie's Hill, disappearing around the corner to their destinations leaving red trails of eerie light against gray mist. Their frequency was such that the puddles were never quite stilled and the hissing rose and fell in a syncopated concerto. The effect was made complete by pairs and trios of violators skimming through a chaos of flying water sending light and perception into incredible disarray. I turned from my vantage point, brushing the second-hand hotel drapes which offered more resistance than I expected. Becoming entangled as I tried to brush them aside, I sent a stream of ice-laden scotch arching eight or ten feet across the living room. I danced headlong, like a shoe-stringed halfback clawing for yardage before gravity finally prevailed. I picked up about three and it wasn't enough for a first down.

I laid in the heap I'd become, scrutinizing carpet fiber. Tonight, I had felt intellectual but all my judgments and conversation with Sonia had been lazy. So, there was lazy intellect, a helluva combination - and just to make sure all judgment and notions are internally questionable, let's lubricate the ol' analytical machinery with some cheap scotch. Way to go. I picked myself up, fixed another scotch and glared defiantly back toward the window, feeling worn and cranked from a long week of juggling acquisitions and customers barking orders across time zones and continents. No big deal, but Erin was on vacation and the care and handling of these things got disjointed due to the absence of her substantial administrative talents - talents which she brought to bear on inquiries, threats and interruptions. I was so spoiled by her intelligence and organizational grace, not to mention the fact that I was almost never without her. My foul disposition and rusty interpersonal manners were to blame for the two blown deals I'd suffered this week in her absence. Not that I ever had anything else to offer, it's just that my dubious qualities always seemed to be the perfect compliment to Erin's preparation of a customer, or phone sex or whatever she did to allow my "official" closing of the deal. Whatever, it was a working combination and the business flowed in normal conditions. I shook off the fatigue which was beginning to creep over me and walked toward the stairs to begin the two or three hours of catching up which remained for me in the basement office Sonia had arranged for me. My personal productivity suite - a place where I could "focus" and be wildly prolific in the quest for that most prized of objectives - independent wealth aided by it's Siamese partner, the fabulous leisure trove. I am an architect by trade and a writer among other things, and my office is where the seeds of lore are held. As with most non-noxious seeds, the cultivating and reaping of fruits are the real skills and the notion that I could accomplish a palatable work was just that - a notion, so far the rubber couldn't find the road. Maybe the catching up would wait. Maybe tonight I would find more relaxing occupation before setting out on the little errand which would not.

"How does she read this crap?", I thought to myself as I tossed the worn paperback into a pile of similarly well read books in the corner of the room. I definitely was not in the mood for reading any mystery, despite my initial inclination to pick up the volume of short stories. I really didn't feel like reading at all but some diversion seemed necessary for the ache that was settling behind my eyes, deep in the recesses of my frontal lobe. But then I never could drink and read. Rubbing my eyes with the pads of both thumbs, I moaned lowly in relief as my brain released its hallucinatory display of interactive colors. Suddenly thirsty again, I picked up my glass and swirled the last of my scotch slowly, the ice tinkling unmistakably in the caramel liquid which shimmered in the dim light of the overhead reading lamp. I really shouldn't be drinking at all, I chastised myself lightly, then poured another splash into the glass.

"You should come to bed, sweetie.", Sonia spoke through the door down into the basement. Her silhouette unmistakable in the kitchen light above. "In a minute, you go on ahead." I said. Though slightly slurred, I wasn't too bad quite yet and she pretended not to notice. I watched as she gave me her goodnight and slipped out of the light, then into darkness. Alone, I looked back at my scotch. The thought of Sonia made me ache even through the scotch's numbing effect that was slowly enveloping my body in its warm glow. She was so beautiful. Yet even in this brief reflection I puzzled again on the knowledge that her beauty was somehow so chameleon like. So used to being approached and lightly hit upon by any breathing soul at the law office where she worked Sonia had learned to present her face as something just less than what it was. Yet, if and when she elected to, some inner light would awaken inside her and she could change before your eyes releasing from within herself a pure marvel of sensuality. Her shoulder length and dirty blond hair would caress and frame her gorgeous face in its warm glow. Soon her eyes would flicker between green and blue and release a brilliant reflection that would startle you aback and make your mouth dry. Invariably, she would draw your sight down her strong thin nose to a moist parting of her pink lips that any breathing man knew he would die for. 'Yeah, well', I mumbled half to myself, taking another bitter sip, no need to worry too much about that anymore. For some time our relationship together had slipped into more of a platonic friendship. More functional than fun, at least not like the old days.

Back then, I wouldn't have given it a second thought. The function was the goal and I'd have gone after her like a cruise missile finding a keyhole over umpteen hundred miles of Alps. Things had changed, as I was now absorbed in an endless game of chance in which my head was well beneath the surface. Staring at the bottom of my glass made it now seem only more so. It made sense of course, for her. I was no match for all that she was. Yet to be near her was like being forced into a stream of alternating current, creating such an ache for the pleasure that once was and producing in me an oscillating unrelenting pain of sadness reflected within the diminishing visceral memory of the pleasure we had shared. Despite this exquisite torture, I remained powerless to let it go . No matter, she would be gone soon, that much was truly inevitable and the dim remembrance of her pleasure would then fade promptly into only gloom.

Nodding to myself almost imperceptibly I raised my glass. Its upper lip bouncing lightly off the tip of my nose and its contents slipped over the point of my chin, down my shirt. "Sheee-iiiitt!", I uttered as the cold startled me back into a damp reality. Taking off my shirt I walked upstairs to the bedroom. Sonia lay sleeping peacefully, her form outlined in the thin sheet that covered her. Taking her in with my eyes, the distant pang of emotion shuttered briefly through me again. Unfortunately, my loss of Sonia was the least of my worries.

Reaching through the open double doors of the closet I grabbed a baggy shirt off the hanger. Slipping it on I quickly changed into a pair of shorts and beach sandals as well. Sonia stirred slowly and emitted a low moan. "Lucky bastard", I thought to myself, wondering whom it was that she had allowed into her dreams. Convinced once again that she was asleep, I opened the bottom drawer of my night stand and reach in blindly until I felt the familiar shape of the parcel hidden inside. Holding it gently in my hand, the touch of the leather shammy wrapping it gave a supple texture that always seemed somewhat paradoxical as to the true nature of its contents. Shaking my head, I curled my lip in an involuntary smirk of a smile. Then, reaching into the drawer again I pulled out a key on a dog tag chain and slipped it into my pocket.

Walking now through the moonlit shadowy dark of the house, I stopped long enough to pull a beer from the fridge and stuffed it into my pocket for the road. The light briefly flooded the kitchen and showed the clock on the counter pointing at two. 'Two A.M.', I mumbled to myself, geeze, its probably too late to call my brother. He wont be too happy if I try to go back at this hour. Not without me letting him know, anyway. Briefly undecided, I knew that I really had few choices and slipped quietly through the back door of the house and jogged softly to my car parked just off down the road. The piece of shit Porsche lay there like some faithful but worthless old dog, awaiting its master but not really wanting to exert any effort. With its rag top tucked already in place I stepped over lightly into the worn leather seat then fumbled to pull the beer from my front pocket. "Goddamn it , the seats are wet!", I bitched. Forcing myself to ignore my wet butt I tucked my beer unopened into my crotch then secured the leather parcel carefully under the driver seat. I glanced at myself in the rear view mirror then back down the road. I probably wasn't legally over the limit but I sure as hell didn't want to get stopped by any bored cops tonight. Surprising myself at my somewhat haggard appearance I combed my fingers through my hair then turned the ignition. The Porsche broke wind then sleepily came to life. Easing down the road I slid through the empty suburban streets toward ocean drive. The moon shone fully overhead in a clearing sky, the clouds gracefully fleeing from under its domain after having spent their light rain which now hissed under the piece of shit Porsche's tires as I drove out to the coast.

The palm tree lined ocean drive was always a favorite of mine, especially on a gorgeous night like this. The road wove along site of the rugged coast with just enough curves to keep things interesting but with long enough straight-aways to allow the Porsche to throttle out a bit. Still I remained a little too unsettled to release myself fully into the pleasure of the drive. Not tonight. There was no doubt that my brother Elliot, or "Brains" as he was called, would be upset with me if things didn't play out quite right as I had failed to call him before heading back. I would just have to worry about that later. My brother liked to know what was going on at all times, especially when events of his own calculating could play out tricky.

Having been born several years after my own ignoble birth, Elliot was an 'accident' in more ways than being unexpected. For some unknown reason Elliot had suffered an apparent mutational birth defect during his development that had later puzzled all the specialists in their queer glasses and white coats. Some type of chromosomal break or rearrangement had left Ellie with the appearance of a Down's child, complete with the pugnacious head and oriental slit like eyes. He also remained shorter and always a little fatter than the average fellow as well, though he was incredibly strong. Most remarkably and contrary to the assumption of his looks, Ellie's mutation had given him an unfathomable intellect and subsequently his nickname had followed. Though clearly not normal, Ellie's child like looks, crisp wit and smarts made him constantly attractive to a certain niche of ladies that seemed to be drawn to giving themselves completely to him in a sexual display of maternal instincts. So in contrast to my own struggling over the years for any contact of the feminine persuasion, my younger, freak brother was constantly getting laid.

Feeling the edge of my buzz starting to flatten I opened the beer and drank a good bit quickly to avoid later being anointed with it over my crotch, then replaced the can snugly between my legs. The warm summer air, damp now in the early hour, felt invigorating as it buffeted my head and swirled around my chest. The salty breeze and moonlight reflections off the near by breakers slowly hypnotized me as the piece of shit Porsche uncharacteristically ran flawlessly along the coast with a sedating drone. Driving with a sense of purpose I puzzled on the fact that I was heading straight into an unknown. Despite repeated trial runs with my brother, this was the first time I was taking the full responsibility of my actions squarely on my own shoulders. Sonia would be proud of me I thought in a self congratulatory manner. She had always implied, in her own beautiful way, that I needed to follow through. That assertiveness was nothing without subsequent resolve and resolution. Well this would prove to her what I was really made of. Maybe it would even re-spark our faltering commitment to each other. Still, undoubtedly, Brains would be pissed.

The Porsche sputtered as I decelerated in anticipation of the upcoming town. Small seaside cabin houses started to dot with increasing frequency the near by landscape. Making sure to be traveling well within the 25 mph limit several hundred yards outside of town I tried to become invisible as I coasted onto the main street. Apply named "Sea Breeze", the small tired resort community resembled a ghost town in the dark despite the moonlit sky. Once across the only intersection I veered off, heading away from the ocean until the road placed me outside of town and wandering up into the surrounding hills. Soon a gravel road presented itself under the beam of the Porsche's headlights and I followed it as well into familiar yet god forsaken country. Turning off my lights I drove now by moonlight until the gravel road delivered me to a rot iron arch standing over the road with one word in scripted on it, CEMETERY. Suddenly, significantly less sure of myself and a hell of a lot more sober, I reached behind me and grabbed the trench-shovel and felt around under the seat for the leather pack. Holding them both firmly, I got out of the car and walked slowly under the iron arch and into the field of silent gray tombstones that marked each grave. The leather parcel felt heavier now in my hands than I could recollect. Having held and assessed it innumerable times I had never dared to open and inspect its contents. Staring at it now as I walked, my peripheral vision came up upon the landmark I was looking for. Centrally placed among the headstones was a freshly dug grave. Kneeling slowly at the end of its cavernous gaping mouth I slowly unwrapped the leather parcel then stared dumbfounded at its contents. Somewhere deep in my subconscious I could barely make out my own disassociated self think, 'Sheee-iiitt, Brains is going to be pissed!'.

Uncle Bryan had always liked Brains. Mostly it was due to Brains' own clever machinations. Whenever the whole family got together, mostly at family reunions, or those awful trips to Mexico, Brains would saddle up to our lone, successful relative, and make feeble attempts to discuss geopolitics, mysticism and the current trends in technology. Brains knew all about Uncle Bryan's weak spots. Weirdness brings about unusual insights into the human condition. My brother Brains needed no backstage pass when the call for the Wierd bus was made; he had a lifetime ticket and he could display it proudly. For that, I envied him. It was with that weird sense of humanity that Brains and Uncle Bryan came to such friendly terms. The rest of our awkward, nervous clan found them both creepy. So, the rest of us would stand by the grill giving advice, or chatting about the weather, thoughtless and fidgety until we took our places at our 'assigned tables', mute as stones.

As I dug, the soil felt cool and dark to my hands, like day-old coffee grounds. I was perspiring profusely, despite the coolness of the evening. Once, half-way down, I thought I heard a noise, a sound not unlike a car door shutting, or someone stepping on a rotted limb in the woods behind me. I stopped and looked around. But there was no one. 'What had I become?', I thought to myself. 'A grave robber?' "Well, so be it," I whispered, to no one. What would the boys back at the office think of me? Would they think me mad? Or simply momentarily distracted by my mortal passions. No matter. I was beyond their speculation. I had a purpose.

There are times when the conscience must be acknowledged - not just listened to, but acted upon. We talk about some forms of lunacy being certifiable and we all possess two or three. A couple of mine are an impetuousness which isn't hard to mistake for stupidity and a rare lack of personal regard. These seemly companions allow me to leap into things which are just beyond sensible and rational sight. Illegal foreign traffic of leading-edge technology to name one. Another and more specific example might be the fact that the latest acquisition and sale I had embarked upon had jacked me and Ellie up into a whole new market and class of customer. The Iridium chipset, allowing the fabrication of communications devices for earth-satellite data traffic, allowing truly global access and opening a whole new realm of commerce and intelligence swapping - a prize carrying a serious price tag, especially to those who had a combined agenda of commercial and clandestine intent. I had actually been commissioned anonymously to acquire and deliver a copy of this highly pedigreed set and was already sitting on a hefty down-payment. All I knew was that there was Asian influence and the contact had left no doubt that the stakes were terminal and irrefutable. I had reason to believe that there would be no return from this enterprise - to say I was committed would be an understatement. For his part, Ellie was seriously geeked, and indeed, had been managing most of the details of how this whole thing was going to go down with a result of our coming away with serious fiscal improvement - and, hopefully, our lives. I had begun to place a priority on the latter. He had insisted on a new level of confidence after I approached him with the opportunity. Erin had not even been made privy to this one, and Sonia, well, Sonia had other interests. Ellie was up to playing hardball with accomplished, organized pros and I would come off the bench if necessary. What was I doing here? Tryin' to grab the world by its' 'nads... We got CNN, we got the world- wide-web, we got Koppel, global access, politicians spewing generalized irrelevant rhetoric, Gallup polls and statistical condensation to the point of trashing the last bit of humanity left in anyone who might arise to make a difference. Who am I? I'm just some joe who isn't picky about my scotch and will stay in the basement until I can get six figures out of some sap who thinks my writing and outlet pressure warrant distribution. I'm very good on a good day, but Ellie is the man, James Bond without the looks - brains of the outfit.

Sonia had left me to my thoughts. She knew little about some of my activities and how my energies required diversion to areas upon which our lives depended. Ever since Ellie and I had begun experimenting with trafficking in black-market technology to any fool domestic or international, intrigue and drama in our lives had heightened and my taste for it all was beginning to wane. So far, Sonia had been kept insulated from this enterprise. I was actively pursuing an exit from the substantial risk that the deals had become. Hope had turned to conviction that there would be little more of this nonsense in my future. This was to be a score of huge comfort-laden proportion and then a couple of familiar feet were going to rest on a great American bio-novel.

It was Sonia's fault, more than anyone's. She'd never been really happy with what I had so far been able to provide her. An architect can make a decent living, but it takes more than decent to get a good seat in an L.A. restaurant, or to buy good pussy. She feigned acceptance, from time to time, when she was in one of her more motherly moods, or those times when she was dead drunk on one of her expensive California cabernets. If the truth be known, I couldn't even afford her tastes in wine. But so far only her and I knew the whole truth. I had married her for her beauty, and now I was knee-deep in my deceased Uncle's grave----God rest his soul----to keep a piece of it around. I was seriously altering The Plan, but all the players had made bargains, had overextended their bluff. None of us held any decent cards.

The circumstances bringing me to this time and place were about as bizarre as it gets. Ellie had obtained the goods from acquaintances at least three times removed via a security breach so far undetected in a certain silicon valley fortress. I considered this a huge accomplishment which had been put behind us. The escapade had taken place in broad daylight and was really unspectacular, involving a manipulation of some accounting records and the mere lifting of a process substrate matched set of silicon and platinum rectangular-shaped objects. These objects were of almost no weight and would nearly fit in a normal persons' primary body cavity. In fact, I understood that this was how the slob of a courier was able to exit the facility while harboring highly controlled material.

Ellie had become nervous following our acquisition of the chip-set and was saying that there were shadows in his midst at all hours. He had been on the move constantly and kept to public places and crowds of people hoping to The object of such great effort and determination was what was going to get me back in Sonia's graces and set a course for our future of excess.

I unscrewed the casket lid and pulled it open. I was drunk and exhausted and the smell made me wretch all over my poor Uncle Bryan. If he only knew. Well, I guess he turn over in his grave. I tried to look away, gather my bearings. The moon was nearly full, the wind picking up in the trees above. Again, I thought I heard a sound, almost like a car alarm just starting, then stopping. Had I set mine? I couldn't remember. I turned back to the job at hand and opened up the pack of implements. Brains had told me exactly how to remove the device. He had downloaded the surgical techniques from the Internet. That was just like Brains. Anything to save a dime and a dollar. I removed the false eyeballs distractedly, no longer emotionally connected to the corpse which I knelt above, somehow only focused on the mechanical movements which I would need to perform to locate the chip and get it into my possession.

No one knows what they will do in moments of desperation. It is only when we come face to face with the dark abyss that we truly come to know our own strengths and frailties. I didn't necessarily trust Brains. He was so much smarter than me. So much more devious. But it was my own meekness which I counted on to give me the edge that I knew I would need. Perhaps I was beyond the point of caring about the consequences. Perhaps I had gone utterly and completely mad. I laughed outloud through the rushing wind, barking only to the bright night sky, "No matter!", I howled, "No matter at all!"

My madness was cut short by forms rushing toward me from adjacent directions. There were no identities, no indication of introductions or any other formality and no time for any sort of concise thinking. I had what I'd come for and apparently it was now time to defend it. The ensuing struggle in the combined darkness, fog and alcohol haze is difficult to clearly recall. I'm not a small person at 6'2", 205 pounds, and I've never been overpowered on the playing field when the thing was on the line. I carried no weapon and I'm not sure why the goons didn't just drop me with a round from one of their bazookas - maybe they were afraid of mangling something that they intended to obtain. It was clear, however, that there was full clearance for me to sustain significant damage. Upon realizing I was being rushed, I rose from the damp earth and took a huge swing in perfect time with the arrival of assailant number one. I connected well as my fist exploded in pain even through the drunkenness, and my awareness burst through in a rush of adrenaline as the second goon reached me. I could make out a large, dark (of course) and oriental looking individual coming full force and I took him head on, which sent me backward as my foot slipped at the corner of the hole. As I fell back and to the side, my right leg sliding down into the grave and catching between the coffin cover and the wall of the grave, I caught sight of a third figure coming over the rim of the hill. I couldn't make out much more off to the side of the where first guy I had hit had gone down. He had fallen awkwardly with his neck turned and one arm and shoulder driven into the ground, his butt was cranked up like a cannon with its' azimuth dialed for Orion. He was motionless, his nose definitely had taken on a new look, obvious even though I had never seen him before and blood was all over his mouth and neck. Just as I was reveling in my manhood, something hit the back of my head and the lights went out. I came to with a feeling that I'd been blind-sided by a small freight-bearing craft and Ellie slapping my face. Two bodies lay where they had landed, the first in the same position I'd noticed some time earlier and with the terminal damage of a gaping hole exposing what was left of his brain. The other one was stretched out neatly on the opposite side of the grave with a similar opening in the side of what used to be his head. There was a look in Ellie's eyes I had never seen before and the only sounds were our breathing and the tidal surf breaking in my head, which I could not distinguish from the real thing happening about a half mile down and across the highway.

"Good, you're not dead", Ellie offered and rose to finish the cleanup operation he had begun.
"Help me get this damn grave back together, and then we have to figure out what to do with a couple of bodies."
"What happened?"
My right leg was competing with my head for the howling pain award.

"Your customers didn't want to pay or have an audit trail. I can't believe you didn't call me - what the crap are you thinking? I don't show up here and that's it.. You lose the business and you get to take up residence here with uncle Butch. You're dumb as shit sometimes, you know that? What bugs me most is that we think enough alike to show up here at the same time.."

"Bryan."
"What?"
"Bryan. Uncle Bryan. We had to get the chips to a more accessible place. I want to close this deal and get out."

Ellie looked down at the refreshed earth and snorted. "Yeah, well I don't think anyone's going to look at this grave twice. But, I don't know what to do with these clowns.. What do you mean, you want to get out?" "I'm finished with this black market crap. I'm going back to the world. Neighborhoods. Doghouses. I'm not up to this.."

I drove back toward the house covered in mud, sweat and half-decayed flesh, cradling the chip and the leather satchel between my legs. The hard part was over, I kept reassuring myself, driving slower with each mile, cautiously making my way though the hills into the valley. Sonia might be awake when I returned. It was. . . .no matter. She was not the suspicious type. She ate men like me for breakfast. Besides, I was nothing but a mouse in her eyes. Attractive, perhaps, maybe even a good conversationalist, but at heart, just another scurrying rodent, one who would run for the nearest hole in the wall when the Big Cat purred. With a little luck, I'd be the Big Cat's morning room service delivery for many days to come.