Harold and the Angel of Death Page 11

  “Stop!” yelled Harold. “Don’t say another word about Darla.”

  John cackled, “Or what, brat? What can you do to me now?”

  “I’ll figure out something,” Harold growled.

  John sat down on the bed next to him. “Okay, I’m calling a truce. I won’t go there anymore. I’m not here about her anyway. I want Garcia, and you’re going to help me get him.”

  Harold yelled into his arm and then pushed himself up so he could sit against the headboard. He looked around the bedroom. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to waking up here.”

  “What’s wrong with it?” asked John.

  “Nothing, it’s just different.”

  “Ha,” responded John. “What’s the matter? Do you miss all those browns, yellows, and oranges?”

  Harold pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them as he looked down towards the bed. “It’s just not home.”

  John’s ice-cold hand grabbed Harold’s chin and turned Harold’s face towards his ghastly specter. “Yea, I know the feeling. Now focus. I’m not here to talk home decorating.”

  “Why am I even listening to you?” asked Harold as he jerked away.

  “Because deep down inside you know you owe me. Besides, I know your real secret.”

  Harold looked over at John’s specter and rolled his eyes. “What big secret is that?”

  “I know who you really wanted to kill the day you killed me.”

  Harold’s eyebrows went up in surprise, and then he recovered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  John’s laugh made Harold’s blood run cold. “Yes, you do. You saw him cowering on the floor in fear. You wanted him dead. Inside that big chest of yours beats the heart of a murderer. In fact, you’re going to kill again.”

  Harold dropped his arms and legs. His foot went through John’s hip instead of kicking him. “No, I’m not. I’m no killer.”

  John gave another cackle. “I say different. If you don’t start listening to me, Garcia is going to make you a killing machine.”

  The alarm clock next to the bed suddenly began to buzz. Harold looked over at it, and back to John, but John had disappeared. He hit the snooze button, but the clock kept buzzing.

  Harold opened his eyes. He was no longer on Salvation Key. He drew in a deep breath of sea air and reached over to turn off the alarm clock. The time read six in the morning. He hated how disoriented he felt after his nightmares. It all seemed so real, and yet, it had only happened somewhere in his mind. After looking around the strange room, he remembered where he was.

  The team had arrived at The Postcard Inn on Islamorada the previous day. Garcia had informed them last night that Chuck would be arriving shortly after lunch to meet with everyone. Harold stumbled towards the shower and attempted to wake up. After he finished with his shower, he walked across the slate tiled floor. The hard, cool surface reminded him of home. As he dressed, he took in the view of the room and the beach outside his picture window. He had never considered modern-style furniture to be particularly attractive, but somehow it fit this place. Although, the neutral grays and tans seemed a bit dull for the Florida Keys.

  After making himself a cup of coffee, he went out on his front porch and looked out at the beach and the Atlantic Ocean. Garcia had set them up with one of the best views in the resort. Harold just wanted to enjoy the view and forget about the reasons he was there. A soft, soothing voice emitted from the other side of a latticed partition.

  “Good morning. How are you doing?”

  The empty chair next to Harold scraped against the concrete as he pulled it closer to him. “I’m good now that I hear your voice. Why don’t you come over here and join me?”

  He could not help grinning ear to ear as he watched Darla come into view. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She had on a wrinkled T-shirt and shorts. Harold guessed she had not had a chance to prepare herself for the day.

  Darla sat down in the chair next to his and cradled her coffee between her hands. “So, who were you yelling at so early this morning?”

  “Oh, was I yelling?”

  Darla raised an eyebrow. She released her coffee mug with one hand and grasped Harold’s free hand. Her face relaxed. “Darling, you were having another nightmare about John, weren’t you?”

  Harold broke her gaze and stared over towards the beach. “Who said it was John?”

  Darla leaned in a little closer and said just above a whisper, “You yelled his name.”

  “I don’t remember yelling John’s name.”

  “So you were having another nightmare about John.”

  “You tricked me,” Harold complained.

  Darla released his hand. “Not really. I heard you yell no and then you said something about my name. Your voice went up and down, and you sounded groggy. It didn’t take me long to put things together.”

  “I had no idea the walls were so thin.”

  Darla took a sip of coffee. “I’m not sure how thin the walls are. Your voice does tend to carry. Darling, you can talk to me. You know, you’re not the only person with ghosts.”

  Harold glanced over at Darla and then returned to staring blankly at the ocean. “I know, but Doc has always been the one I turned to for things like this. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but Doc has always been there.”

  “Should I be jealous?” Darla asked in a mocking tone.

  Harold looked back at her and searched her eyes. “You will never have to be jealous of anybody. Doc says I need to give myself some time with everything. So, I’m giving us some time to get to know each other better.”

  “Perhaps,” said Darla. She looked out towards the water and took another sip of coffee. “Let me ask you something.” She turned back towards him. “What are you going to do when Joshua is gone? Maria wasn’t exactly happy to be left behind on the island. Trust me, dear, Joshua’s days here are numbered. Take it from a woman who knows. Maria will not simply sit around that island with nothing to do but decorate overpriced marble rooms. She’ll tell Joshua she wants to get away, and he will listen to her.”

  Harold’s eyes stretched wide. “What have you heard? Did she tell you she was leaving?”

  Darla watched a tourist pass along the walkway. “Not in so many words.”

  “I’m not sure you know Maria as well as you think. I’m like a younger brother or son to her. Besides, Joshua wouldn’t leave me on a whim. Doc has been like a second father to me. They both love me like a member of their own family. Neither of them would just abandon me.”

  Darla reached over and took Harold’s hand again. “I’m not saying they will leave you, but every person has their limits, dear. At some point, Maria will want a break from isolation and boredom.”

  Harold’s head drooped. “Well, then she and Joshua can take a vacation somewhere.”

  Darla raised an eyebrow. “Really? Where does one go to take a vacation from the Caribbean?”

  Harold leaned back into his chair and glanced up towards the sky. “I don’t know.”

  “Just promise me if they decide to leave that you’ll come to me if you need somebody to talk to.”

  Harold crossed his legs and glanced over to Darla. “That’s a silly thing to say. I’ll always come to you, but it doesn’t matter. Doc won’t leave me.”

  “Did I hear my name?” Joshua appeared on the sidewalk from behind the partition.

  Harold replied, “You did. Grab a chair and join us.”

  Joshua disappeared and reappeared in a few moments with a chair in hand. “I do hope whatever you were saying about me was good.”

  “Darla was just telling me how Maria will drag you away from the island never to return again.”

  “Oh?” replied Joshua.

  Harold raised his eyebrows. “That’s it, Doc? Just Oh? Is there something I should know?”

  Joshua took several seconds longer than Harold thought he should to sip his coffee then finally put his mug down. “Well, Maria isn’t happy. Th
ere is very little for her to do. The island and everything around it is on autopilot now that we have all settled in. She also hates the idea that our meeting with Chuck is too dangerous for her but not too dangerous for me. But don’t be silly, Harry. Maria is here because she loves both of us. Even if she isn’t happy, she’ll see this through. I just recommend we don’t take our time doing it.”

  Harold replied, “Well, maybe we should tell Garcia that he has to let her come along. She doesn’t have to meet Chuck, but she could at least get off the island and hang around with us when we aren’t talking to men who want to blow up the world.”

  “No, I agree with Garcia. I almost lost her to John. I won’t risk losing her again.”

  “So, what are you saying, Doc?”

  Joshua looked up at the sky and then down at his feet. “I don’t know. It’s not like you need a security blanket. Perhaps when things slow down, I could take her to North Carolina. She has never seen my native state or where you and I first met at the orphanage.”

  Harold reached over and gave Joshua’s shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Well, Doc. Maybe a short visit would do you both some good, as soon as Garcia finishes with this Chuck business.”

  The corners of Joshua’s mouth curved slightly, and he took another long sip of coffee.

  Darla stood up. “Well, I need to go make myself presentable.”

  “I find you very presentable,” said Harold.

  “I agree,” responded Joshua.

  “Men are so easy. I’m not talking about for you. I’m talking about everyone else.”

  Darla strolled off the front porch towards her room. Harold made no attempt to hide his enjoyment of watching her walk away.

  “So, Harry, I hear you had another nightmare.”

  Harold turned and looked over at Joshua. The doctor’s compassionate eyes touched his heart as much as his own father’s eyes once had. Harold thought for a moment, and then asked, “How long were you standing there, Doc?”

  Joshua chuckled and paused. He turned and looked out over the water. “Oh, Harry, I wish I had been spying on you. The truth is, I could hear you through my wall.”

  “But your room is next to Darla’s. You had an entire room between us and you still heard me? Did the entire hotel wake up?”

  “I hope not. Nobody else has dropped by to check on you, have they?”

  “No.”

  Joshua glanced at Harold and down at his feet. “Actually, I was already awake.”

  “What woke you up?”

  Joshua took a sip of his coffee and paused. “It’s nothing, Harry. I’m more concerned about your dream. Things had settled down after we got to Salvation Key. I thought maybe your mind was finally coming to grips with everything that has happened. Do you think the upcoming meeting with Chuck today triggered something?”

  Harold lifted himself up and adjusted his seat so he was facing the water. He gazed out over the ocean. “Doc, do you think I’m a killer?”

  “Do you feel like a killer?” asked Joshua.

  Harold scowled. “Come on, Doc. We’re past answering my questions with questions. You know why I’m asking you. Tell me, do you think I’m a killer?”

  Joshua put his mug down on the small table. “Harry, we all have the capacity to kill. The fact that most of us don’t is a testimony to the existence of some sort of deity. I have spent my life trying to help people with their problems, and in the end, all of us really have the same core issue. We’re all, at our heart, selfish, self-centered people. Even when we sacrifice for others, we do it because it makes us feel good. So, yes, you could be a killer, but it isn’t because you’re a berserker. It’s because you’re human.”

  Harold fidgeted in his chair. “But, Doc, if I hadn’t been a berserker, would I have killed John? I’m not sure I could have taken him on if I hadn’t felt the rage inside that I did.”

  “Harry, this condition of yours…you’re not alone. Many people throughout history have gotten what is known as ‘battle rage.’ There are stories from every war of men walking through gunfire and even getting hit with shrapnel and not stopping until all the enemies had been killed. Even in everyday life, there are stories of mothers who have lifted automobiles off their injured children.”

  Harold turned back to the water. “But, Doc, do they have to deal with it all the time?”

  “No, Harry, that does make you unique, but that doesn’t make you a killer. Do you really think your problems are any different than the business executive who has a crush on a co-worker but has a wife and kids at home? He knows if he crosses the line his actions could devastate his family and the woman he is attracted to. Every day, he has to choose what is most important to his life and live with the consequences.”

  “Come on, Doc, I’m not saying I feel like I’m going to go berserk every day.”

  Joshua patted his arm, and Harold turned his head to look at his friend. “Exactly. There are people who must face their life-changing temptations daily. You only have to face yours when something endangers you or a loved one.”

  Harold looked back at the ocean. “It scares me, though, Doc. What if I can’t control it one day?”

  “Turn around and look at me.”

  When Harold turned his chair back around, Joshua’s small hands attempted to wrap themselves around his. “Harry, you may not remember how bad you were when I first came to live with your family.”

  “I remember I felt pretty angry most of the time.”

  Joshua let go of Harold’s hands. “Angry, my friend? You were positively demon possessed. Everything set you into a rage. Did you know I had suggested that you be put in an institution when you were younger?”

  Harold’s eyebrows went up. “Doc! I thought we were friends.”

  “We are. Even then I was your friend, but I was not sure if I could figure out how to cure you, and I was afraid you might hurt your parents, or me, and end up in prison.”

  Harold sat there quietly and tried to remember. In his mind, he could hear yelling and then see items thrown in the air. When the vision cleared, he could only see his father’s dead body sitting in his office chair with the back of his head exploded on the wall behind him. Harold drew in a sharp breath, and he felt Joshua suddenly squeeze both his hands.

  “Are you okay, Harry?”

  Harold drew in a long breath and released it. “Yea, Doc. All I seem to remember is Dad’s death.”

  Harold let Joshua take his hands and lift them to his lips. It was something Joshua had always done when Harold got hurt. The action made him feel like a child again, and he closed his eyes. He could see Joshua kneeling next to him at the beach, trying to comfort him after he almost drowned in a riptide. His dad lay next to him, still coughing up water. He had nearly drowned trying to save Harold, and Joshua had pulled them both the rest of the way to shore. Joshua had his lips on Harold’s sandy hands praying as they expelled portions of the Pacific Ocean from their lungs.

  When Harold opened his eyes, he saw Joshua had closed his. The doctor’s facial expressions changed as he continued his unspoken conversation with the unseen God. Another minute went by, and Joshua opened his eyes. His eyes held a slight twinkle as he released Harold’s hands. “I’m sorry, my friend. I let my emotions get the better of me. I felt like I needed to pray for you.”

  “There’s no need to apologize, Doc. I noticed you’re doing more of that these days. It’s kind of nice. Did it give you any new insight?”

  “I wasn’t praying for insight. I was praying God would comfort your loss, but I know you will always carry it with you.”

  Harold let his head droop a little. “Yea. So, do you think these dreams about John could trigger something in me that would make me go berserk? I knocked myself out of the bed taking a swing at him.”

  “I really don’t know. All my treatments were focused on your subconscious in the hopes of using it to help heal your consciousness. I started looking into some of this when your nightmares first started, but I stopped wh
en things settled down after moving out here. I would like to think all those sessions will help you control your subconscious when these nightmares happen, but I really can’t be sure. I am going to research this some more.”

  Harold drew in a ragged breath and let it out. He tried to let the tension out of his body. “I hope you find something soon, Doc. I’m not sure what I will do if I can’t control myself when I’m asleep.”

  Both men sat in silence. Harold wondered if his life would ever return to normal. His dreams immediately after his father’s death had been pleasant. He was in the Viking village hunting and living among their people, just like Joshua’s hypno-therapeutic sessions. It wasn’t until John’s death that the nightmares had started. For a moment, Harold considered returning to Malibu and checking into Avalon, but he didn’t want Garcia to know he was struggling with killing John. He feared Garcia would pull the plug on the operation and abandon the plan to rescue Parabolic Defense Systems from its current financial crises.

  Joshua’s voice broke through Harold’s thoughts, “I guess we should both prepare to meet with Chuck.”

  Harold gave Joshua a half-smile. “What do you mean, Doc? I’ve been ready. Haven’t you showered yet?”

  “No. I decided to grab some coffee and walk by your room to see if you were awake and found you and Darla out here.”

  “Oh,” said Harold, “I thought that smell was the ocean.”

  Joshua rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, it could be the crust on your lip from you drooling when Darla was here.”

  Harold knew Joshua was kidding, but he still rubbed his lips.

  Joshua laughed and stood up. “I’ll see you soon, Harry.”

  “Make sure you shower before you do, Doc.”

  Chapter 13

  Harold walked out of his hotel room and across the bustling resort. Patrons of every age hurried about to enjoy the attractions afforded by the luxury retreat. Many adults congregated around the tiki bar while others enjoyed the cool, clean water of the large swimming pool. Young children frolicked about the playground next to the small, private beach. Men and women zoomed along the calm Atlantic Ocean on their rented jet skis, and boats of every size cruised in and out of the resort’s yacht club. Harold took a moment to soak in the atmosphere before heading over to the outdoor bar.