Dystopia Chapter 47: A Ruse

Today is the day. The sun is slowly slipping behind the mountains as I mentally prepare to reunite with my daughter. Spent my day cleaning up, preparing to see my youngest for the first time in years. Both dreading the encounter, while hoping for the best. Upon exiting the complex, I spotted Diana watching from a rooftop observation platform. I wondered what last words of advice she might have.

Arriving at the Barrio with Cord, I thought to myself: keep breathing. Relax. A part of me wanting to run away. Words I recently uttered echoed in my mind… I gave up. Cord and Diana both restated multiple times, “She wants nothing to do with you. Neither she nor her sister.”

I expected that current reality wouldn’t align with the images in my mind. Happy, joyful, with a passion for learning, but... So many questions that had no answers. I can visualize her reading by candlelight, ‘visiting’ a paper world that no longer existed and wondering why.

Temperature dropping, sunbaked streets are noisy, always filled with locals. Strangers eyed with suspicion. Dust kicks up as a dust devil spins ahead. What can one expect when the entire world’s population is now gathered up and piled into half the world’s habitable space? A fast-spreading pandemic is always a concern. If one started there, there would be no vaccine to prevent its spread.

At the back of the cafe, we hid our rides and waited in the shadows. My stomach churning. Soon she would arrive as I closed my eyes and pictured her on her way.

The moment arrived. Mask on to protect her from toxic air, dust, and viruses that permeate the air. Hand in her bag, likely clutching her weapon. Turning the corner approaching her entrance, still unaware of our presence. Cord and I, standing back a dozen steps, semi-hidden in the darkness, stepped forward. She looked up at the last moment, froze, and for that split second did not appear to recognize us. To be honest, it took me a moment to recognize her. Cord, just behind me, whispered, “That’s her.” Two more steps without stopping. She was inside her apartment. The door closed quickly. We heard the latch. I approached to knock. As I reached for the door handle, I heard a gunshot and felt a bullet graze my arm just above my right elbow. Cord pulled me back, and two more bullets exited through the door, leaving a trail of wooden splinters. Blood oozed from my wound. Shocked and dumbfounded, I grabbed the wound.

“Susan! It’s me, Jesse,” I yelled, words not spoken for years.

“Go to hell,” she yelled.

Muted voices from afar filled the air, then silence… slowly replaced by night sounds and muted conversations. Now dark, I stood as the blood dried. Why, so much anger. She fully intended for me to die on her doorstep?

Cord added, “Told ya. Let it go.”

“Cord, you need to identify yourself. Tell her about meeting her, you and Diana.”

“Sure. Susan, it’s me. We met you, me and my friend… Diana, at the cafe. We chatted on several occasions. Don’t…”

Another shot exited again. We pulled back.

Sliding as close as I dared to the entryway, raising my voice, hoping she heard and would listen, I spoke. “Susan, it’s… Dad. Please give me a minute and listen. That night, I’d been hired to tutor Mr. Eldridge’s sons, his daughter, like I had done so often before.”

Pause… listen, nothing, so I continued.

“When I returned that evening, I found… you and Sandra were both gone. Found your mom, her… The room was in disarray. I searched for months; I followed leads; I tried to no avail. Over the years, I have left notes on message boards and looked for messages, clues, still hoping. A friend — Cord — recently located you and Sandra. When he came back, he told me neither of you wanted to see me again. I… I needed a chance to explain my side of the story, to seek forgiveness, to…”

“You’re a fucking liar,” she screamed between sobs. “It was all a ruse.”

“What, what do you mean, a ruse?”

“A scheme, a plan, a way to get rid of us. To get us out of the way, to steal the cafe,” she added.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I questioned.

“Those men, the ones that raped mom, smacked us around, then dragged us away, placed us in an untenable situation for years, those men worked for Mr. Eldridge, hired by Mr. Eldridge, paid by you to get rid of us!”

Night had fully fallen — the new moon, cold, so cold — my head spinning, unable to think clearly, to unravel the dissonance. I had no words. Like putting a puzzle together with missing pieces in the dark. All this time, they nurtured lies. Hearts hardened. Lies that grew from lies to indignation, to anger, to a deeply rooted hatred. The door swung open. Susan stepped out, shotgun in hand, turned and there I, rather we, were staring at death.

“Mom seemed worried that evening. You had left so late in the afternoon, but beyond that, all seemed normal until they arrived. Mom recognized the brand. They claimed to have a message from Mr. Eldridge, so she opened the door. They barged in uninvited, actually elbowed in and… Mom smacked down, raped as we watched, slapped around, hooded, and dragged away. Once back at Mr. Eldridge’s ranch, they removed the hood, and we saw your horse tied to their front porch, then placed in a darkened room, heard voices, heard your voice. How could you pay to have us kidnapped? The next few years he hid us, moved to his ranch up north, and ‘protected’ us from you. Turns out we were victims of… aging. Sandra was pregnant; they sent us away. Meanwhile, your reputation grew — devious and deadly — and now you’re wanted dead or alive, with a bounty on your head. Sis and I promised the first to see you would kill you. I guess I win.”

I had faced off many a misfit, stood at the wrong end of someone’s gun, and walked away. Sitting here, afraid to move, insides twisting, nothing made any sense. Mr. Eldridge — a typical wealthy, power-hungry, self-absorbed, crooked family man — and me, just your regular Joe.

“Landed up north?”

Head pounding, I said, “This is Cord, an innocent bystander. He’s got no dog in this story, just let him walk away.”

“His mistake. Think anyone will miss him?” she asked.

“I’m going to remove, gently, my gun, my extra gun, my knife, and — reaching behind my back — one more weapon, and toss them out of reach.”

“Ms. Tucker,” Cord said.

Her eyes snapped up. “Don’t you ever use my name!” Her eyes blazed!

“Let me explain. Let me have a minute or two of your time,” Cord pleaded. “I’ve known Jesse a short time, and he’s often talked about family, and it clearly matters to him. He’s been looking for you as long as I’ve known him. He had hired me to see if I could find you and your sister, Sandra. I did. I suggested he just let this go — forgo meeting and move on. He, on the other hand, has been determined to talk with you.”

“Your time is running out,” Susan warned.

“Okay, with the minute I have remaining, I am a tracker, a private investigator. I have worked for various outfits and for independent clients successfully.”

Susan raised the weapon.

“I’ve listened to your story, and there are some questions lingering in my mind that I plan to uncover, no matter what unfolds next.”

“You’d be wasting your time.”

“And I will find answers, and I will report those results to you — the truth, the rest of the story — and I assure you there is always a rest of the story. Which will own you forever.”

“And if I pull this trigger?”

“Hopefully, I’ll walk away and leave this… broken, crumpled, dead man on your doorstep.”

“I have a thought,” I said.

“Shut up,” replied Cord and Susan.

Chilled, head spinning.

“You do that. You investigate, but if I see him before you return, I will end the story.”

She turned, entered her room and again, maybe for the last time, I heard the door latch.

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