End Games Public and Private!

55.    

Kew Gardens had fewer news crews now. Metropolitan Avenue had a much diminished traffic jam-perpetual but lesser in scale. Cool weather might be to blame? More recent horrors drew attention away from Forest Park? Roosevelt Field, Hofstra and Cedarhurst all received news coverage. The inevitable throngs of ghoulish blood suckers flocked to these places paying off cops, fascist troops, bikers and commie dope squads as needed. Life went on even in wartime. Bring your video cam.

Gianell lay quietly in her bed with two lines in her arm. Detoxification was taking longer than anticipated. The leg was discolored and they had left it immobilized and raised at an angle. She felt restless. Watching the tube did not interest her. One of her unit commanders happened by to brief her. She became aroused. She begged him for a kiss only half jokingly. The guy shook it off. A Ukrainian would never stoop so low?

He took refuge in reciting military matters to her. Why should it matter if she knew any of this now? Nobody could put her back in action in her present state? There was this guy named Reggie. Did she know him form her volunteer ambulance work? Did she remember him somehow?

Hey! He was a boring old accountant who taught CPR. He gave Dr. K. grief with some crazy allegations on several occasions. Crazy because they were 100% on target. Boris paid the heat and the Queens D.A. twice as much because of this righteous asshole. Did she know him personally? Would she recognize him on sight? Could she pick him out for a sniper? She disappointed the guy by responding in the negative to all of these questions. He hated it. She knew it.

Nothing like a horny woman scorned or is it spurned? Bless you Reggie! You’re not going to die on my account. If you killed some Ivans, my bother and maybe my mother too thank you. If you enjoyed it, then we have something in common at a very base level. Eye opening experience ain’t it? I won’t eagerly go to that hellish spot any more. You shouldn’t either.

Her leg hurt. Amputation loomed? Ws she septic? Would she shock out? Did she have a mega virus lose in her? Her mind roamed. She saw the little girl again. It seemed as though she were right next to the bed. The girl beckoned Gianell to get up and walk. Gianell decide dot follow this command to the letter. The aluminum splint adorned with cloth and Velcro straps presented little challenge for a skilled ambulance tech. It was off in an instant.

Gianell lifted herself off the bed and to the floor. Her garb consisted of a bra, a shirt and panties. No matter. The floor was cold. The pain subsided. Then a boil burst on her lower leg and lots of green pus ebbed out of it. She went for a bandage scissors as the little girl shadowed her. Got a few 4 x 4 s too. Her suppurating abscess gave way to scraping, wiping and an ample amount of hydrogen peroxide poured directly into the wound.

The little girl smiled and appeared to walk out the door. As she turned one last time she promised to wait for Gianell to join her not real soon but much later. There was no problem with time where the little girl now resided. The girl was gone. The leg felt better. Antibiotics and a fancy dressing would come in the next two hours. But, clearly, and most certainly, her wound had been treated of ninita’s visit.  Que milagrosa.

56.    

They made it to the dock unscathed. The ferry set out for the passage to Bridgeport soon thereafter and without incident. Marian remained certain that the end was near, Maybe the Frente 26 Julio would blow up this very boat? Or have the crew just pitch the two of them overboard? She worried more herself than Reggie. They needed him. Why did they need her? Maybe he’d protect her somehow?

Reggie had much more in mind than merely protecting her. His Spanish was more than passable. He tried hard not to show any conversance whatsoever. Better to listen and understand as much as he could. Hiding in plain sight was the best way to go. Their driver and his associate had been singularly circumspect in handing them over to a crew of  Portuguese and Filipino sailors.

Were they armed? It did not matter until they got to the other side. Reggie was certainly no marine pilot. There was no way to steer the boat all the way home. Reggie had never gone to Bridgeport by way of Long Island Sound. I-95 sure. The Merritt Parkway, of course. By ferry, nope.

This would be his first time. There might be an opportunity for him to break out. Should he take the doughty Marian with him? His mind rejected the idea. His gut and his soul told him she was a keeper. He’d keep her as long as the gut feeling lasted.

The hash was wearing off. His head had begun to clear. This had some benefits. The down sides of it ate at him. Being a killer required a specific mind set. You had to psyche yourself out and go on to suppress years of less than invigorating if more formal education. It had once passed for a disciplined upbringing. Morality not just ethics could be situational? Loyola was right? Machiavelli made infinite sense now. Life was both lived and defined by the moment.

God! He so wished he was with Lydia instead. Not much chance of that! He hoped she was well and wondered what it would be like to hold her closely. He’d never know. This girl he was with must have been someone once. Why did that matter? He owed her big time. She deserved to live. He might just to see to it that she did.

You could hardly do that by asking her to play commando too? There was no immediate place to leave her off. Maybe towards Yale? The boat was fast approaching the Connecticut Shore. A small reception committee awaited them. Marian was indeed happy to be alive at this point. Reggie cautioned her to sit tight as he cleared the mechanism on his gun. Just a precaution? Terrifying one to behold? Now what? Nothing until later. Wait.