One Rule - No Surrender, page 29
part #2 of One Rule Series
"Hey!" Louis protested.
Thalma pushed her away, but gently. Maggie's gold-brown eyes glowed.
"Don't worry, tiger," she said to Louis. "I know she's all yours."
They released each other and Maggie moved swiftly over to plant a full-lip kiss on a startled Louis as well.
"Lucky you're my friend," said Thalma with an uncertain smile, catching her mom glancing uncomfortably away and Laura beaming at them. "Otherwise, I might have to break your arms or something."
"Gee, Thal, sometimes you say the sweetest things. I suppose a threesome is out of the question?"
Thalma glanced at Louis, who seemed to have gone mute. She scowled.
"Completely out of the question," she said. "More than completely."
"Ha. Can't blame a girl for trying."
Maggie gave Laura a quick hug and regarded Elena's proffered hand with a thin smile before shaking it – and she stepped away into the no-man's land of the TSA inspection area. She waved at them before disappearing into the line. Thalma knew she was going to miss her. But then "Portlandia," as Maggie had pointed out, wasn't that far away.
Laura and Elena shuffled forward to say their goodbyes. Their flight was leaving in an hour, and Elena was more comfortable getting the security part out of the way and waiting in the gate area.
Her sister edged into her arms. Thalma reminded herself to go easy with her hug when she wanted to clutch her with all her strength.
"I can come visit you, can't I?" the girl asked.
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."
"Are you going to rebuild your house? It was such a cool place."
"I think so. It was one of my favorite houses ever." Thalma peered over Laura's shoulder where her mom was busy averting her eyes and suppressing whatever emotions she was feeling, as usual. "Maybe I could come see you sometime, too."
"That would be fantastic!"
"We'll see." Elena Engstrom mom finally raised her eyes and met Thalma's gaze. She gave her a faint nod. "I'm sure we'll figure something out."
Her sister stepped away, wiping her eyes, glancing back at her mom. Elena Engstrom stood as if her shoes were moored in cement.
"Have a safe trip back," said Thalma. She'd be damned if she'd be the one to close the distance between them.
Her mother nodded and turned away with one hand on Laura's back. Laura gave her a sad little wave. Thalma lifted one hand and produced a smile.
But as they approached the TSA line, her mother turned back suddenly and crossed back to Thalma with swift, determined strides, taking Thalma by the shoulders and half-yanking her into an embrace.
"I'm so proud of you," she said, planting her lips hard on her daughter's forehead. "Of the person you've become."
Her mother's words and the kiss shook through Thalma like a sonic boom, shocking her to the core. She wanted to thank her, but by the time she'd cleared her throat enough to speak her mom had already pulled free and was marching away as swiftly as she'd come. Thalma watched, seemingly stuck in the same cement shoes her mother had been wearing, as Elena shepherded Laura into the inspection area.
Louis walked over and hugged her with one arm.
"Wow," he said. "I wasn't expecting to see that."
"That makes two of us. I'm not sure I remember her doing that before. Not ever."
She let Louis guide her away with one arm around her waist. They both gave Laura, Elena, and Maggie a final wave before starting down the escalator.
"You know, it's been great having your mom and sister staying with us," he said, "and Maggie's been cool, but dude, I am so fucking looking forward to it being just us again."
"Me, too. I've been missing having you alone."
"So we're gonna rebuild the house?"
"Why not? It's a great property and the basement's still intact. Though this time I might install a roof and siding that can withstand a missile strike."
"Jeez. Don't even joke about that, please."
"I wasn't joking."
Thalma smiled and hugged him closer to her as they stepped through terminal doors out into the sun.
Thanks for reading ONE RULE: NO SURRENDER! If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review here.
Please check out the first chapter of my new novel, SUPER WORLD!
EXCERPT: FIRST CHAPTER, SUPER WORLD
Chapter 1
TWENTY-NINE WAS WAY too freaking young to check out of life. That was a thought Jamie Shepherd had often these days. Yet sometimes she felt a certain peace about it. Her husband and baby girl had died two and a half years before, and they had also been too young. To die at five was just plain insane. But some measure of peace came when she thought of rejoining her family. If there was a God, if there was anything like cosmic justice, that would happen. If only she could be more sure about that. It was so easy – too easy, she thought – to believe in heaven when you've lost your family and you're dying. But something about death makes you want to live – even a pathetic life like mine.
Jamie walked to the edge of the property. It was an effort to walk, but she'd read that people who survived pancreatic cancer got up and moved around. Sitting or lying around all day, which she now preferred, was a death sentence. Not that the odds were good no matter what she did. Only one percent of people diagnosed with Stage IV survived five years. She was four months beyond her first year, and from the comments of her oncology doctor and a nurse-friend, she was doing well to have come this far.
She and her husband had set up a target range at the southern border of their land. Guns had been more Dennis's thing, but she'd eventually gotten into it. It made her feel strong to hold a Glock .40 or a .357 magnum and plink away. The clanging of the bullets on the hanging steel targets was gratifying. Cathartic. Even weak and dying she could still be lethal.
Jamie blinked away tears as she aimed down the sights of her Glock 22 on a head-sized metal plate sixty feet away. Her hands were shaking badly, but she took her time – waited for that still moment. Clang! Take that, exocrine pancreatic cancer! Clang, clang, clang! That’s for you, Mr. Bank of America mortgage department!
But then what difference did it make now that B of A was foreclosing on her property? Her family was gone. No one to leave it to other than her dad, now living with her after his second divorce. It was just an insult added to injury.
She did entertain an occasional fantasy of going out with a bang. Lately she'd been thinking of jumping out of an airplane without a chute. Dennis, an adrenaline junkie, had always wanted her to try skydiving with him, but the thought had terrified her. She couldn't even sleep the night before he’d jump. All the risks he took skydiving or riding his motorcycle or rock-climbing. A thousand excellent opportunities to die. Never once had she imagined something so pedestrian as a drunk tow-truck driver plowing into his pickup – on the one day that week where he picked up Kylee from kindergarten.
Jamie also fantasized about a different kind of bang: her .357 would make quite an impression on the smug loan officer at Bank of America. Or maybe just contact the local newspaper or GoFundMe and tell her sad story. The donations might be enough to save her house. But she hated the idea of charity, of being a victim. Better just to take her medicine and go out with class. The more she thought about it the more she liked the idea of skydiving without a parachute. Just flying through the air, the ground rising to embrace her – and blackness. A courageous way to die instead of something cowardly and typically female like sleeping pills. To end her life with something so joyous seemed life-affirming in a weird way.
Jamie was sighting in on one the farthest targets with her Glock – a body-shaped metal target seventy-five yards away – when a darkness obscured her sights and the target vanished with a sound like a beer can being crushed. It was so fast – much faster than an eye blink – that she would've ignored it except for the missing target and the metallic crunching sound. She lowered her gun. The metal figure really wasn't there, to her amazement. But something else was: an object that looked like the upper half of a large vitamin pill.
She walked toward the object without any firm sense of expectation. The only thing that made sense was that the target had been flattened by a meteorite or debris from the sky or space.
Jamie approached the object slowly, savoring the sense of wonder and anticipation. So few things held wonder any longer – so little to look forward to. But something very strange had just happened. Nothing earthshaking, she was sure, but still strange. That something could fall from the sky and smash her target showed that the world still held miracles. If that miracle was possible, why not another kind of miracle?
But of course that was nuts.
She arrived at her object of mystery. She’d been expecting something easy to categorize, but the black cylinder, shiny as polished obsidian – maybe six feet long and two feet around, half of it submerged in the hard North Dakota summer dirt - refused any familiar classification. The body-shaped target splayed out from underneath either side of it. A near-direct hit.
Jamie circled it slowly, peering at it from several angles. It made her think of a big, black steel vitamin capsule. Its blackness seemed to have inky depths.
She bent on one knee and cautiously moved one hand toward it. It could be radioactive. Heck, maybe it could cause cancer! She smiled at the absurdity, and ran her right hand along its surface. It was every bit as smooth as it looked and then some. Her hand tingled – a sharp jolt of sensation, like a static electricity discharge. She pulled away, wriggling her fingers. The sensation lingered for a few moments before dissipating. Despite the fact that she was a dead woman walking, fear snapped through her body.
She pushed on the cylinder, but might as well have been pushing against a tank. No give at all. Though the thing wasn't large, it was incredibly dense. And tough: she couldn't see any signs of wear or damage from the impact. It had that immaculate new car finish – though no new car smell that Jamie could detect.
She pulled out her cell and called her father, hoping he hadn't started drinking yet. "Dad, I'm at the range. I think you should come out here.”
"Are you okay?”
"Something fell on the property.”
"Fell?”
"An object. Just dropped out of the sky and smashed one of the targets. You should come see for yourself.”
"Alrighty. I'm on my way.”
After a few minutes, Cal Winters rode up on his four-wheeler. He climbed out, hitched up his jeans, and stared down at the black cylinder.
"What the hell. Is it safe to touch?”
"Seems to be.”
He stooped down and ran his hand over the surface.
"Feels like polished stone, but it wouldn't be a meteor with that shape. Could it be from a satellite or something?”
"I have no clue.”
"I wonder if we should call someone.”
"Who?”
"The police?” He smiled at her. "NASA?”
Jamie didn't reply.
"Just had a funny thought,” her father said. "What if it’s worth something?”
Jamie frowned. It wasn't the dumbest idea. But as with all possibly good ideas there was sure to be a catch. "Maybe to the right people. But the right people probably wouldn't let us keep it.”
"Good point. The government would probably just swoop in here and take it, whatever the heck it is. And we’d never be the wiser.”
Jamie nodded. "I'm open to suggestions.”
"Well.” Her dad scratched the stubble on his chin. "For starters, we could move it into the garage, out of sight of prying eyes.”
"How?”
"Wrap a chain around it and drag it.” He shrugged. "I'll drive back and get the skid steer. You want to come?”
"No, I'll wait.”
Now that her dad had introduced the notion that the object might be worth something she wanted to keep an eye on it. Not that I can take it with me, she reminded herself. But there was some comfort in the possibility that her property would remain in the family. Which reminded her: I need to make a will – just in case there was something worthwhile inheriting.
Cal Winters returned with their skid steer. The skid steer failed to lift the cylinder. He rumbled back and returned with his pickup, a chain, and a pry bar. The pry bar couldn't budge the object, so he was unable to get the chain around it.
"This must be made out of something heavier than lead,” said her dad. "We're gonna need Jensen’s tractor.”
"Isn't Jensen in Minnesota this week?”
"He won't mind if I borrow it.”
So her father drove to the farm next door and rumbled back in Jensen’s loader. The tractor made groaning sounds as its shovel dug under the cylinder and raised it slowly aloft. They rolled the quarter of a mile to Dennis’s workshop beside their house and lowered the object to the cement floor.
They stood staring down at the cylinder. The shop lights glistened on its surface and yet appeared to glow softly within its depths.
"That little sucker weighs about two and one-half tons,” said Cal. "I'm no metallurgist, but I can't think of anything that size that weighs that much. Be interesting to cut it open and see what’s inside. Maybe gold.”
"Figures I'd get rich now."
Cal chuckled. "You never know, sweetie. You just never know.”
IT WAS not a good night. One of the many bad things about being terminally ill was that you couldn't tell the difference between a flu or food poisoning or really any other kind of malady and what was killing you. On the plus side, if food poisoning was killing her, what was the difference?
Her dad was sick, too. She heard him in the bedroom down the hall – the former guest bedroom – retching and flushing the toilet. He heard her, too, and showed up waxen-faced in her doorway.
"Looks like we picked up the same bug, sweetie.”
"From what? You haven't been out anywhere for a few days, and we didn't eat the same thing.”
"Who knows? At least we know it isn't something just happening to you.” He sagged against the doorway. "What can I do for you, baby?”
"Go back to bed. You're in no shape to take care of me.”
"Well, let me know.”
He stumbled away.
In the morning, the flu or food poisoning or whatever it was had passed, but Jamie felt like death warmed over. Minus most of the warmth.
Her dad offered her chicken soup – her go-to meal – but the thought of eating made her stomach clench. She settled for lying in bed like a corpse.
After a while she summoned the energy to call Dennis’s best friend, Sam, from her bed. Sam, an avid pilot and skydiver, had gotten Dennis into skydiving. They had been partners in crime in hang-gliding and rock-climbing, too. Sam had been devastated by his death. Sometimes he'd seemed just as much of an emotional wreck as she’d been.
"Jamie,” he said. "How are you?”
"The same. How are you?”
"The same. Any new news?”
"Nope. Still dying, as far as I know.”
"That fucking sucks.”
"Yeah. Anyway, I wonder if you'd do me a favor?”
"Name it. Anything.”
"I'd like to go skydiving.”
Sam’s silence was as heavy as her mood. She could hear the gears clinking in his head. He was a smart guy, but much like Dennis, not prone to sharing his deepest thoughts.
"Skydiving,” he said.
"Kind of a bucket list thing.”
"Oh. Well, there's some training involved even for the initial tandem dive. Maybe a day or two. Are you up for that?"
A tandem dive wasn't what she had in mind. She'd forgotten about all the rules and regulations.
"I don't know if I'm up for much training, Sam. I've had enough energy for maybe an hour two out of bed each day, and right now I doubt I have that."
"Sorry, Jamie, but I don't see how that's gonna work. It takes hours to learn how to pack and use your chute and practice the pre-jump drills."
Jamie sighed. "I'm going to be completely honest with you, Sam. I don't need a chute, and I doubt it takes a lot of drills or practice to learn how to fall."
"Jamie...are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry. I don't see how I could be a part of that."
"Yeah, I thought you'd feel that way."
"Look, Jamie, I get it, I do. But Jesus...aside from the legal issues – I could lose my license or even face criminal prosecution - can you imagine what Dennis would think? Me helping his wife to off herself?”
"I'd like to believe it’s what he'd want. His best friend helping his wife to go out in style as opposed to rotting away in a hospital bed on morphine.” Jamie drew in a deep breath, not sure she had the energy for this argument, or if she even cared enough to argue about it. "I know it's a lot to ask, Sam, and it's probably not fair to ask it. Forget about the skydiving. You could just take me for a ride in your plane, and at some point, I jump. You didn't see it coming. You wouldn't be responsible."
"Jamie..."
"I need to do this while I have enough strength left to get around. In another week or two, I may be too far gone. This is my dream, Sam, and I'm asking you to help me fulfill it.”
The sound of Sam sighing was torrential. She knew it was wrong to pressure him, to guilt-trip him – so unlike her to do that. She felt sorry for him, but not enough to relent. It was her life, after all. Well, her death.
"Does your dad know about your plan?” he asked.
"Not yet.”
"Bring him on board, and if he doesn't shut you down, we'll talk about it more.”
"Okay. That's fair.”
She hung up. Now there was a conversation she was looking forward to having. On cue, her dad appeared with the bowl of chicken soup – the "horn of plenty” bowl that never seemed to empty.
"Jamie,” he said, studying her with his hangdog frown which Jamie had learned to loathe, "I'm thinking maybe it’s time to go to the hospital.”
"You mean, for good?”
"No, no – I just mean to get some fluids. You've lost a lot of those with this flu or whatever it was.”
"What's the point, Dad? I have a different plan I'd like to talk to you about.”
Thalma pushed her away, but gently. Maggie's gold-brown eyes glowed.
"Don't worry, tiger," she said to Louis. "I know she's all yours."
They released each other and Maggie moved swiftly over to plant a full-lip kiss on a startled Louis as well.
"Lucky you're my friend," said Thalma with an uncertain smile, catching her mom glancing uncomfortably away and Laura beaming at them. "Otherwise, I might have to break your arms or something."
"Gee, Thal, sometimes you say the sweetest things. I suppose a threesome is out of the question?"
Thalma glanced at Louis, who seemed to have gone mute. She scowled.
"Completely out of the question," she said. "More than completely."
"Ha. Can't blame a girl for trying."
Maggie gave Laura a quick hug and regarded Elena's proffered hand with a thin smile before shaking it – and she stepped away into the no-man's land of the TSA inspection area. She waved at them before disappearing into the line. Thalma knew she was going to miss her. But then "Portlandia," as Maggie had pointed out, wasn't that far away.
Laura and Elena shuffled forward to say their goodbyes. Their flight was leaving in an hour, and Elena was more comfortable getting the security part out of the way and waiting in the gate area.
Her sister edged into her arms. Thalma reminded herself to go easy with her hug when she wanted to clutch her with all her strength.
"I can come visit you, can't I?" the girl asked.
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."
"Are you going to rebuild your house? It was such a cool place."
"I think so. It was one of my favorite houses ever." Thalma peered over Laura's shoulder where her mom was busy averting her eyes and suppressing whatever emotions she was feeling, as usual. "Maybe I could come see you sometime, too."
"That would be fantastic!"
"We'll see." Elena Engstrom mom finally raised her eyes and met Thalma's gaze. She gave her a faint nod. "I'm sure we'll figure something out."
Her sister stepped away, wiping her eyes, glancing back at her mom. Elena Engstrom stood as if her shoes were moored in cement.
"Have a safe trip back," said Thalma. She'd be damned if she'd be the one to close the distance between them.
Her mother nodded and turned away with one hand on Laura's back. Laura gave her a sad little wave. Thalma lifted one hand and produced a smile.
But as they approached the TSA line, her mother turned back suddenly and crossed back to Thalma with swift, determined strides, taking Thalma by the shoulders and half-yanking her into an embrace.
"I'm so proud of you," she said, planting her lips hard on her daughter's forehead. "Of the person you've become."
Her mother's words and the kiss shook through Thalma like a sonic boom, shocking her to the core. She wanted to thank her, but by the time she'd cleared her throat enough to speak her mom had already pulled free and was marching away as swiftly as she'd come. Thalma watched, seemingly stuck in the same cement shoes her mother had been wearing, as Elena shepherded Laura into the inspection area.
Louis walked over and hugged her with one arm.
"Wow," he said. "I wasn't expecting to see that."
"That makes two of us. I'm not sure I remember her doing that before. Not ever."
She let Louis guide her away with one arm around her waist. They both gave Laura, Elena, and Maggie a final wave before starting down the escalator.
"You know, it's been great having your mom and sister staying with us," he said, "and Maggie's been cool, but dude, I am so fucking looking forward to it being just us again."
"Me, too. I've been missing having you alone."
"So we're gonna rebuild the house?"
"Why not? It's a great property and the basement's still intact. Though this time I might install a roof and siding that can withstand a missile strike."
"Jeez. Don't even joke about that, please."
"I wasn't joking."
Thalma smiled and hugged him closer to her as they stepped through terminal doors out into the sun.
Thanks for reading ONE RULE: NO SURRENDER! If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review here.
Please check out the first chapter of my new novel, SUPER WORLD!
EXCERPT: FIRST CHAPTER, SUPER WORLD
Chapter 1
TWENTY-NINE WAS WAY too freaking young to check out of life. That was a thought Jamie Shepherd had often these days. Yet sometimes she felt a certain peace about it. Her husband and baby girl had died two and a half years before, and they had also been too young. To die at five was just plain insane. But some measure of peace came when she thought of rejoining her family. If there was a God, if there was anything like cosmic justice, that would happen. If only she could be more sure about that. It was so easy – too easy, she thought – to believe in heaven when you've lost your family and you're dying. But something about death makes you want to live – even a pathetic life like mine.
Jamie walked to the edge of the property. It was an effort to walk, but she'd read that people who survived pancreatic cancer got up and moved around. Sitting or lying around all day, which she now preferred, was a death sentence. Not that the odds were good no matter what she did. Only one percent of people diagnosed with Stage IV survived five years. She was four months beyond her first year, and from the comments of her oncology doctor and a nurse-friend, she was doing well to have come this far.
She and her husband had set up a target range at the southern border of their land. Guns had been more Dennis's thing, but she'd eventually gotten into it. It made her feel strong to hold a Glock .40 or a .357 magnum and plink away. The clanging of the bullets on the hanging steel targets was gratifying. Cathartic. Even weak and dying she could still be lethal.
Jamie blinked away tears as she aimed down the sights of her Glock 22 on a head-sized metal plate sixty feet away. Her hands were shaking badly, but she took her time – waited for that still moment. Clang! Take that, exocrine pancreatic cancer! Clang, clang, clang! That’s for you, Mr. Bank of America mortgage department!
But then what difference did it make now that B of A was foreclosing on her property? Her family was gone. No one to leave it to other than her dad, now living with her after his second divorce. It was just an insult added to injury.
She did entertain an occasional fantasy of going out with a bang. Lately she'd been thinking of jumping out of an airplane without a chute. Dennis, an adrenaline junkie, had always wanted her to try skydiving with him, but the thought had terrified her. She couldn't even sleep the night before he’d jump. All the risks he took skydiving or riding his motorcycle or rock-climbing. A thousand excellent opportunities to die. Never once had she imagined something so pedestrian as a drunk tow-truck driver plowing into his pickup – on the one day that week where he picked up Kylee from kindergarten.
Jamie also fantasized about a different kind of bang: her .357 would make quite an impression on the smug loan officer at Bank of America. Or maybe just contact the local newspaper or GoFundMe and tell her sad story. The donations might be enough to save her house. But she hated the idea of charity, of being a victim. Better just to take her medicine and go out with class. The more she thought about it the more she liked the idea of skydiving without a parachute. Just flying through the air, the ground rising to embrace her – and blackness. A courageous way to die instead of something cowardly and typically female like sleeping pills. To end her life with something so joyous seemed life-affirming in a weird way.
Jamie was sighting in on one the farthest targets with her Glock – a body-shaped metal target seventy-five yards away – when a darkness obscured her sights and the target vanished with a sound like a beer can being crushed. It was so fast – much faster than an eye blink – that she would've ignored it except for the missing target and the metallic crunching sound. She lowered her gun. The metal figure really wasn't there, to her amazement. But something else was: an object that looked like the upper half of a large vitamin pill.
She walked toward the object without any firm sense of expectation. The only thing that made sense was that the target had been flattened by a meteorite or debris from the sky or space.
Jamie approached the object slowly, savoring the sense of wonder and anticipation. So few things held wonder any longer – so little to look forward to. But something very strange had just happened. Nothing earthshaking, she was sure, but still strange. That something could fall from the sky and smash her target showed that the world still held miracles. If that miracle was possible, why not another kind of miracle?
But of course that was nuts.
She arrived at her object of mystery. She’d been expecting something easy to categorize, but the black cylinder, shiny as polished obsidian – maybe six feet long and two feet around, half of it submerged in the hard North Dakota summer dirt - refused any familiar classification. The body-shaped target splayed out from underneath either side of it. A near-direct hit.
Jamie circled it slowly, peering at it from several angles. It made her think of a big, black steel vitamin capsule. Its blackness seemed to have inky depths.
She bent on one knee and cautiously moved one hand toward it. It could be radioactive. Heck, maybe it could cause cancer! She smiled at the absurdity, and ran her right hand along its surface. It was every bit as smooth as it looked and then some. Her hand tingled – a sharp jolt of sensation, like a static electricity discharge. She pulled away, wriggling her fingers. The sensation lingered for a few moments before dissipating. Despite the fact that she was a dead woman walking, fear snapped through her body.
She pushed on the cylinder, but might as well have been pushing against a tank. No give at all. Though the thing wasn't large, it was incredibly dense. And tough: she couldn't see any signs of wear or damage from the impact. It had that immaculate new car finish – though no new car smell that Jamie could detect.
She pulled out her cell and called her father, hoping he hadn't started drinking yet. "Dad, I'm at the range. I think you should come out here.”
"Are you okay?”
"Something fell on the property.”
"Fell?”
"An object. Just dropped out of the sky and smashed one of the targets. You should come see for yourself.”
"Alrighty. I'm on my way.”
After a few minutes, Cal Winters rode up on his four-wheeler. He climbed out, hitched up his jeans, and stared down at the black cylinder.
"What the hell. Is it safe to touch?”
"Seems to be.”
He stooped down and ran his hand over the surface.
"Feels like polished stone, but it wouldn't be a meteor with that shape. Could it be from a satellite or something?”
"I have no clue.”
"I wonder if we should call someone.”
"Who?”
"The police?” He smiled at her. "NASA?”
Jamie didn't reply.
"Just had a funny thought,” her father said. "What if it’s worth something?”
Jamie frowned. It wasn't the dumbest idea. But as with all possibly good ideas there was sure to be a catch. "Maybe to the right people. But the right people probably wouldn't let us keep it.”
"Good point. The government would probably just swoop in here and take it, whatever the heck it is. And we’d never be the wiser.”
Jamie nodded. "I'm open to suggestions.”
"Well.” Her dad scratched the stubble on his chin. "For starters, we could move it into the garage, out of sight of prying eyes.”
"How?”
"Wrap a chain around it and drag it.” He shrugged. "I'll drive back and get the skid steer. You want to come?”
"No, I'll wait.”
Now that her dad had introduced the notion that the object might be worth something she wanted to keep an eye on it. Not that I can take it with me, she reminded herself. But there was some comfort in the possibility that her property would remain in the family. Which reminded her: I need to make a will – just in case there was something worthwhile inheriting.
Cal Winters returned with their skid steer. The skid steer failed to lift the cylinder. He rumbled back and returned with his pickup, a chain, and a pry bar. The pry bar couldn't budge the object, so he was unable to get the chain around it.
"This must be made out of something heavier than lead,” said her dad. "We're gonna need Jensen’s tractor.”
"Isn't Jensen in Minnesota this week?”
"He won't mind if I borrow it.”
So her father drove to the farm next door and rumbled back in Jensen’s loader. The tractor made groaning sounds as its shovel dug under the cylinder and raised it slowly aloft. They rolled the quarter of a mile to Dennis’s workshop beside their house and lowered the object to the cement floor.
They stood staring down at the cylinder. The shop lights glistened on its surface and yet appeared to glow softly within its depths.
"That little sucker weighs about two and one-half tons,” said Cal. "I'm no metallurgist, but I can't think of anything that size that weighs that much. Be interesting to cut it open and see what’s inside. Maybe gold.”
"Figures I'd get rich now."
Cal chuckled. "You never know, sweetie. You just never know.”
IT WAS not a good night. One of the many bad things about being terminally ill was that you couldn't tell the difference between a flu or food poisoning or really any other kind of malady and what was killing you. On the plus side, if food poisoning was killing her, what was the difference?
Her dad was sick, too. She heard him in the bedroom down the hall – the former guest bedroom – retching and flushing the toilet. He heard her, too, and showed up waxen-faced in her doorway.
"Looks like we picked up the same bug, sweetie.”
"From what? You haven't been out anywhere for a few days, and we didn't eat the same thing.”
"Who knows? At least we know it isn't something just happening to you.” He sagged against the doorway. "What can I do for you, baby?”
"Go back to bed. You're in no shape to take care of me.”
"Well, let me know.”
He stumbled away.
In the morning, the flu or food poisoning or whatever it was had passed, but Jamie felt like death warmed over. Minus most of the warmth.
Her dad offered her chicken soup – her go-to meal – but the thought of eating made her stomach clench. She settled for lying in bed like a corpse.
After a while she summoned the energy to call Dennis’s best friend, Sam, from her bed. Sam, an avid pilot and skydiver, had gotten Dennis into skydiving. They had been partners in crime in hang-gliding and rock-climbing, too. Sam had been devastated by his death. Sometimes he'd seemed just as much of an emotional wreck as she’d been.
"Jamie,” he said. "How are you?”
"The same. How are you?”
"The same. Any new news?”
"Nope. Still dying, as far as I know.”
"That fucking sucks.”
"Yeah. Anyway, I wonder if you'd do me a favor?”
"Name it. Anything.”
"I'd like to go skydiving.”
Sam’s silence was as heavy as her mood. She could hear the gears clinking in his head. He was a smart guy, but much like Dennis, not prone to sharing his deepest thoughts.
"Skydiving,” he said.
"Kind of a bucket list thing.”
"Oh. Well, there's some training involved even for the initial tandem dive. Maybe a day or two. Are you up for that?"
A tandem dive wasn't what she had in mind. She'd forgotten about all the rules and regulations.
"I don't know if I'm up for much training, Sam. I've had enough energy for maybe an hour two out of bed each day, and right now I doubt I have that."
"Sorry, Jamie, but I don't see how that's gonna work. It takes hours to learn how to pack and use your chute and practice the pre-jump drills."
Jamie sighed. "I'm going to be completely honest with you, Sam. I don't need a chute, and I doubt it takes a lot of drills or practice to learn how to fall."
"Jamie...are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry. I don't see how I could be a part of that."
"Yeah, I thought you'd feel that way."
"Look, Jamie, I get it, I do. But Jesus...aside from the legal issues – I could lose my license or even face criminal prosecution - can you imagine what Dennis would think? Me helping his wife to off herself?”
"I'd like to believe it’s what he'd want. His best friend helping his wife to go out in style as opposed to rotting away in a hospital bed on morphine.” Jamie drew in a deep breath, not sure she had the energy for this argument, or if she even cared enough to argue about it. "I know it's a lot to ask, Sam, and it's probably not fair to ask it. Forget about the skydiving. You could just take me for a ride in your plane, and at some point, I jump. You didn't see it coming. You wouldn't be responsible."
"Jamie..."
"I need to do this while I have enough strength left to get around. In another week or two, I may be too far gone. This is my dream, Sam, and I'm asking you to help me fulfill it.”
The sound of Sam sighing was torrential. She knew it was wrong to pressure him, to guilt-trip him – so unlike her to do that. She felt sorry for him, but not enough to relent. It was her life, after all. Well, her death.
"Does your dad know about your plan?” he asked.
"Not yet.”
"Bring him on board, and if he doesn't shut you down, we'll talk about it more.”
"Okay. That's fair.”
She hung up. Now there was a conversation she was looking forward to having. On cue, her dad appeared with the bowl of chicken soup – the "horn of plenty” bowl that never seemed to empty.
"Jamie,” he said, studying her with his hangdog frown which Jamie had learned to loathe, "I'm thinking maybe it’s time to go to the hospital.”
"You mean, for good?”
"No, no – I just mean to get some fluids. You've lost a lot of those with this flu or whatever it was.”
"What's the point, Dad? I have a different plan I'd like to talk to you about.”
