Chapter Thirty-Two

If they carry you on their back, you won’t know that the road is long.

—Krio Proverb

“Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a wife to claim,” Von said. Leaving the hotel, he parked his sedan in the lot near her houseboat and boldly walked onboard.

Caitlin was on the deck, working on a half-finished painting of the Xaverian mission compound. She glanced up at Von. “I guess you don’t understand what a restraining order is, Von,” she said. “But after the sheriff finds you tomorrow, you’ll know.”

“I have some business to attend to in New Orleans and New York. After that’s done, I want you to come with me to New York. I have a wonderful apartment overlooking Central Park. You will love the life I plan on giving you. You can even bring the… boy,” he said.

“Aw, you would do that for me, Von? You would accept the same boy you threatened to take away from me? That is so sweet.”

“I’m serious, Caitlin. Please.”

“You are so full of shit. I regret ever meeting you. Now get off my boat before I call the law and they carry your white African ass to jail.”

Von grasped her arms. “Caitlin, that’s enough of this foolishness. Why are you playing so hard to get? I know what you are on the inside—lonely, an opportunist like myself, and I know you truly care for me.”

Caitlin struggled to free herself, but his hands gripped her arms like a toothed spring trap. “Von, you’re hurting me. Let me go.”

“Not till you tell me what I want to hear.” He pulled her toward him as though he would kiss her.

Caitlin turned her face away from him and closed her eyes. “No. No, I won’t. You won’t hear it from me. Go to hell. Leave me alone!”

Von shook her like she was a rag doll. “Caitlin, listen to me. I love you. I need you.”

“Let her go, Von,” a voice said.

Von glanced over his shoulder at Hunter and Tejan who had just come on board. He shoved Caitlin away and moved toward Hunter. “You. Everything would have been fine between Caitlin and me if you hadn’t been around and turned her against me.”

Von didn’t see the short iron pipe that Hunter held behind him until it was shoved into his gut. The blow took the wind out of him.

“Surprised to see me?” Hunter said. “You don’t seem so tough without your two friends to hold me.”

Hunter then truly did surprise Von by pounding his body and face with the pipe and then his fists.

“Hunter, that’s enough,” he heard his Caitlin say.

When the blows stopped, Von rose from his knees, then staggered into the parking lot. He wondered why Hunter had not killed him. It was another sign of weakness.

“You’ll like our sheriff, Von,” Caitlin shouted. “You can explain everything to him.”

Von looked through his bloodied and bruised eyes and saw Caitlin and Hunter embracing. He didn’t like what he saw at all.

****

Hunter called the sheriff after Von left and told him about the altercation. The sheriff issued an all-points bulletin for Von Vermeer’s arrest and promised Caitlin he would deal with Von as soon as possible. He promised to send a patrol car by the houseboat and art gallery periodically through the night in case Von returned. Hunter spent the night with Caitlin, but their sleep was fitful. Early that morning, the sheriff called and said that Von had checked out of his hotel.

Feeling that Von had at last gone and would be out of her life, Caitlin felt much better. She prepared a huge breakfast for Hunter and Tejan of coffee, eggs, bacon, and pancakes.

As Hunter finished another cup of black coffee, she said, “Thank you for being there, Hunter. For once, I was happy to see those angry fists of yours. I was really frightened. And Hunter, I’m glad you stopped when you did. The old Hunter wouldn’t have.”

Hunter looked down at his hands, at the bloodied knuckles and scars. He flexed the fingers. Fighting is not what a man’s hands are designed for. In a man’s hands reside the secrets of his art, the memories of the women he has touched, the earth he has held, the people he has helped, the songs he has played. Von, you did me a favor by forcing me to defend Caitlin. I am not proud of hurting you. I don’t like fighting anymore.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Caitlin said.

Hunter laid down his fork and looked at Caitlin. “I want you and Tejan in my life—permanently this time. I’ll give you space. I’ll work my ass off to make sure you both have everything you want. I’m afraid though. Afraid I’ll screw up. There’s still too much wrong with me.”

“Mr. Hunter,” Tejan piped. “You are still a good man. You and my mamá belong together. If I know my mamá will be happy, Tejan would be willing to die.”

“Well, we have much to talk about then, don’t we?” Caitlin said. “However, today I want to focus on getting the gallery for next week’s show. The walls need to be painted, and I don’t know when I can get to it since I’ve got to finish these paintings I plan to show.”

“Since tomorrow’s Monday, the museum is closed, right? Why not let me paint them today?”

“Right,” Caitlin said. “That will give the walls time to dry and time for me to hang the new show.”

Hunter said. “I can have it done before tomorrow.”

“That’s so sweet. Do you want Tejan to help?”

“Naw. Just send him to get me when supper’s ready.”

****

Von drove mindlessly for several minutes, fighting the rage and shame that blistered his mind worse than Hunter’s fists had his face. He rolled down his window and lit a cigarette. At a stoplight, a young black boy sat on a bicycle, leaning against a street sign pole. The boy’s eyes widened when he saw Von’s face. Then he grinned.

“Mister, shore looks like someone tore your face up. You better get yourself to a clinic and get fixed up.”

Von flipped his cigarette at him and rolled up the window.

As he entered his hotel room, Biko laughed when he saw Von’s face. “Mon, I hope that girl did not hurt you this way.” He chuckled. “You are sure you want her?”

“That’s enough of that, Biko. Her boyfriend jumped me when I wasn’t ready for him.”

“Biko is happy that it was not the girl. Where is this boyfriend? Take me to him.”

****

Hunter rolled the beige paint onto the Sheetrock walls quickly, and after he had washed out the rollers, attacked the wooden trim with a brush. He was concentrating—not on the painting, but on the future, on how good life would be, how much life and energy a happy relationship with Caitlin would bring to his music. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the footsteps of the two men who had entered the gallery through the open back door. The thump of the blackjack was no louder in his head than the thumps of his conscience.

When Hunter woke, he was in the back portion of the gallery and his legs and one arm were tied to a chair by Caitlin’s desk.

“We’re going to play a little game,” Von said, “the way we played it in Sierra Leone. Biko, are you ready to play the game with Hunter?”

Biko grabbed a handful of Hunter’s hair and jerked his head back. “Yeah, Mon, he play with me tonight.” He lifted a lock of Hunter’s hair and slowly cut it loose with his knife. “The white man’s hair, it feel light, wispy, like the hair of a woman.”

Von laid a machete upon the desk. Hunter watched as Von folded and tore a sheet of paper into several pieces. He wrote a word on each slip.

Hand, ear, arm, toes, foot, leg, nose, head, and just to make it interesting—here’s one I never used before—go free. Here’s how it works.” He lifted a paper sack from the trash and dropped the small anatomic squares into the bag. “You reach into the sack and whatever body part you draw, Biko will cut off.”

Hunter grinned when he saw Von’s two blackened eyes. “You look like a raccoon with those black eyes.” Hunter looked at Biko. “Did he tell you who blackened his eyes?”

Biko slapped Hunter so hard he heard his own teeth rattle.

“Play the game, mon,” Biko said.

“You are a couple of sick bastards.”

“You came between me and my Caitlin. You should not have interfered.”

“And you think killing me is going to make her want you? What an idiot. What will you do after you kill me? Caitlin still won’t go with you.”

“Then I’ll kill her and her boy too. Now, reach into the sack.”

“I won’t play your sick game.”

“Okay.” Von took a slip and wrote Tejan and dropped it into the sack. “You will play. If you don’t, then I’ll draw for you and for him. Now you only have to draw once, and who knows, you might get lucky and draw the one saying I have to let you go.”

“Somehow I don’t feel lucky tonight,” Hunter said. Images of Caitlin’s paintings flashed through his mind like a slide show. This man and this moment is the Africa Caitlin had given months of her life for.

Von patted him on the shoulder. “Understandable. If I were you, I wouldn’t feel lucky either.”

Biko took Hunter’s hand and stuffed it into the sack. “Choose, Mon.”

“Go ahead, Hunter,” Von said. “I’ll even draw and play the game with you.”

“You don’t have the guts.”

“Biko, I want to play the game.”

Biko held out the sack. Von reached in and took a piece of paper. “I’ll even play first.” Von unfolded the paper. “Go free.” He showed it to Biko. “Isn’t that right, Biko?”

“Yeah, Mon, that is right. Go free.”

“Now, Hunter, you draw.”

Hunter felt his fingers clasp one of the small pieces of paper and withdrew his hand. Biko snatched it, read it, and smiled. “Hand,” he said. “Today is your lucky day.”

“Well, Hunter, I must leave you in the care of my friend. I’m going to finish my business with Caitlin and inform her that you are no longer available as a boyfriend. Biko will draw the next papers for you. And since I’ve already drawn the one that had go free written on it, you can’t leave here alive. You don’t have to be gentle, Biko, but don’t drag it out too long.” Von sighed. “I do owe Caitlin that much.” He wadded up his paper and threw it to the floor. “On second thought, have as much fun as you like.”

“Biko will kill this mosquito carefully. He want to see his guts.”

Hunter rocked the chair as he struggled with his bonds. Biko laughed. “The turtle wants to box, but his arms are too short.” He untied Hunter’s left arm and stretched it across the table. There was a lightning-fast flash of a machete, then Hunter saw his detached hand twitching on the tabletop as if the fingertips were stretching for the notes of a sad minor song.

****

“Tejan!” Caitlin said.

“Yes, Mamá?”

“I’m going to go to Pecanland Mall and buy a gift for Hunter. I don’t feel like cooking, so I’ll pick up something for us to eat on the way home. Would you go help Hunter finish painting? I ought to be back by the time you’ve returned and cleaned up.”

Oui,” Tejan said.

As Tejan neared the gallery, he stopped. He felt the violence inside even before he heard Hunter’s groans. He moved to the window and peered in. A black man with a raised machete stood over Hunter. Tejan pounded on the glass and screamed, “No!” The man merely smiled and brought down the blade. Tejan heard the sound of the blade as it bit into the wooden desk and saw the blood spurting from Hunter’s arm. He tried the door, but it was locked, so he ran around the building to the back patio and he picked up a shovel, which he used to break out the back door’s glass window. He reached in and unlocked it, opened it and stepped inside. The man inside now faced him with the raised machete, but Tejan smashed his face with the shovel. The force of the blow didn’t knock him down, but it did turn the man’s head and daze him. A gold tooth tumbled from the grinning bloody mouth and bounced across the floor. Tejan knew that if this man were a soldier, he would be an adept grappler and skillful fighter, and he dare not give him a chance to grasp him. Tejan’s strength would be no match for this big man. He plunged the shovel’s blade into the man’s exposed neck. This time the man fell to his knees, his hands clutching at the gurgling hole in his neck. Tejan then drove the shovel into the thick chest like it was a bayonet and pushed the man until he fell. He dug in the man’s chest until he heard the blade scraping the ground, and he leaned on the handle until his huge frame stiffened and stilled.

Tejan threw down the shovel, pulled off his T-shirt, and tied off Hunter’s arm.

“Caitlin…Von’s gone after Caitlin,” Hunter said.

Tejan slung Hunter across his back in a fireman’s carry and marched double-time toward the houseboat. He had carried others like this before, but this time there was no alcohol or drugs to numb the ache of his muscles or the pain inside. There was nothing to fill the hollow of his very live heart and he wept. A car passed him slowly, but the driver did not stop to help or to ask why a weeping teenage black boy carried a longhaired handless white man on his back. Maybe there are some things people just do not see.

As Caitlin’s car was not in the parking lot by the houseboat, Tejan knew she had not returned yet. He did not know how to find her, so he kept walking, down Trenton Street, across the Endom Bridge, to Saint Francis Hospital.

Tejan staggered into the emergency room and told a worker, “You must take care of my mamá’s friend.” A drop of Hunter’s blood splattered on the floor.

“Good God, what’s happened to him?”

“He need your help. Soon.”

The door into the emergency treatment area opened and Tejan saw a gurney. He plopped Hunter down, turned, and rushed out.

The admittance clerk followed after Tejan. “Who is he? There are papers you must fill out.”

“He is Mr. Hunter.”

“I’ll call the police! You can’t just leave him here like this!”

“You will help him or he dies,” he said. He remembered what Hunter had said about Von and ran back to the houseboat. “I must go help my mamá.” He felt he ran faster than he had ever run before.

****

Von studied the houseboat. He could see Caitlin’s shadow-form as she moved through the boat. She was naked except for a towel wrapped around her waist. He quietly made his way closer. As he spied on her, he cursed her for making him love her, for causing him to be miserable without her. He opened the cabin door and stepped inside.

“Hunter? Is that you?”

“No, it’s not Hunter.”

“You better get out of here. Right now. Hunter’s already given you one ass whipping. You don’t know him, how angry he can get.” Caitlin snatched a shirt from a clothing basket and hurriedly slipped it on, fumbling at the buttons. “He’ll kill you this time when I tell him you broke in.” She reached for the phone.

Von snatched the phone and backhanded her. “Stupid bitch.”

Caitlin cringed from the blow and started crying.

Von held out his arms. “Caitlin, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Really. Come here.”

“Von, please, just go away and leave me alone! Let me have a life. I love Hunter—not you. You and I could never have a life together now.”

“Well, Hunter is no longer a complication to our relationship.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s gone. You’ll never see him again.”

Caitlin wildly flailed at him with her hands. “You killed Hunter, didn’t you? Listen to me, you sorry excuse for a man, I would be a gutter whore and give myself to the whole world before I’d let you touch me again!”

“Caitlin, Shhhh. Shhhh.” He placed his pistol against Caitlin’s temple. “I love you so much. Now, I’m not going to have to use this, am I?”

Caitlin shook her head.

“Where’s your black boy?”

“He went after Hunter.”

“Biko will take care of him. Okay, then. Let’s pack some clothes so you come with me to New York.” He stuck the pistol into his belt and watched as she packed.

****

Tejan saw Caitlin’s and Von’s shapes through the curtained windows and he was again assaulted by the intuition of violence. Tejan picked up a piece of wire in the parking lot and wrapped the ends around each hand. He had learned to garrote in Sierra Leone from a white Ukrainian mercenary.

Von pushed Caitlin out the cabin door. Caitlin held a small suitcase. Von followed toting another. As Caitlin rounded the cabin, she saw Tejan. He held a finger to his lips. She nodded and kept walking.

As soon as Von walked past him, Tejan slipped the wire around his neck and pulled it tight. That was when he saw Von reaching for the pistol in his belt. He yanked Von backward to keep him off balance, hoping that he could strangle him before he could get the pistol out. Von did grasp its handle, but Tejan fiercely jerked him backward again until they both slammed into the gunwale, causing Von to drop the pistol. Tejan kept pulling Von until the momentum pushed both of them over the side into the river. As they descended into the dark water of the Ouachita, Tejan felt Von’s hands clawing at his throat. The dark world of the river was all he could see, but he managed to hold his breath and pull the wire tighter. Don’t let Tejan die in the dark, he prayed to whatever god was listening. Tejan managed to raise his head above water, gulp a breath, then sat on top of Von, pulling the wires until his hands crossed, and he felt the wire cutting into his hands as it bit into Von’s neck.

Von stiffened in death throes, and his arms and legs flailed wildly beneath Tejan. He held Von under for a long time, until Tejan felt himself losing strength and breath. Von’s weight was now a weight too heavy to hold any longer. Treading water, he unwound the wire from his bleeding hands and released Von’s body. Von’s corpse bobbed to the surface briefly, and the head rolled to the side in a peculiar manner. The wire garrote had nearly severed Von’s neck completely. As Von’s body sank below the surface and into the river’s current, Tejan took his bearings. He could barely see the houseboat’s lights.