An Eye for An Eye

An Eye for an Eye

Don Stoddard

Smashwords Edition

Copyright Don Stoddard 2014

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1 A Dark and Stormy Night

Chapter 2 A Bright New Day

Chapter 3 The Calvary Arrives

Chapter 4 Rehabilitation

Chapter 5 Meeting Annie

Chapter 6 The Dark Side of Coalsville

Chapter 7 A Bad Night in Coalsville

Chapter 8 Evil Strikes Again

Chapter 9 The Day After

Chapter 10 Seeking Janet

Chapter 11 The Welch Farm

Chapter 12 Turning the Tables

Chapter 13 The Aftermath

Chapter 14 The Return to Coalsville

Chapter 15 Reuniting

Chapter 16 Outlining a Plan

Chapter 17 Confirmation and Identification

Chapter 18 Moving On

Chapter 19 Identifying Stump

Chapter 20 The Setup

Chapter 21 The Game is Afoot

Chapter 22 Fat Georgie Ricotta

Chapter 23 Tying Loose Ends

Chapter 24 The Return to Chicago

Epilogue

About the Author

Acknowledgements:

Cover photo by audreiuc88.

I owe a debt of gratitude to Diane Gregg, Thomas Stoddard, and Kevin McArthur for their tireless efforts in reviewing, revising, and editing this work. Applying their expertise they have significantly improved the book’s continuity, and readability, while significantly reducing the number of grammatical spelling and syntactical errors that are the bane of all authors. Their effort and encouragement are deeply appreciated.

Chapter 1 A Dark and Stormy Night

A cold north wind blew steadily down the dark highway while intermittent westerly gusts hurled the tumbling drops across the road. The darkening night and the blinding rain obscured the road’s glistening black pavement to such an extent that its very existence became an ethereal part of the night. The headlights of infrequently approaching vehicles however gave some respite from the blackness and revealed a shimmering rain-slick surface.

Jacob ‘Jake’ Black, erstwhile Captain Black of the U.S. Army plodded wearily along the edge of the road; his path favoring the rough gravel berm to the slick shiny pavement. The berm presented rougher and more uneven footing but allowed him to move more quickly from the possible path of the approaching vehicles as they roared toward him out of the darkness. The vehicles were moving far too fast and coming way too close for him to ignore their frightening presence, so he stayed off the pavement.

Each passing car or truck sprayed chilling water on his now sodden denim jeans; and though the cold spray from the passing vehicles wasn’t pleasant, the gleam of their headlamps did provide a return of welcome reality to the otherwise surreal black nothingness. A wet and dreary primal mixed-timber forest abutted the sides of the road and in places encroached so close to the highway that the near leafless branches of the larger trees hung over the macadam surface.

The sodden hiker was a big man. He wore a broad brimmed slouch hat pulled down tightly over his head, while a shiny black poncho was stretched across his broad back with its straps tucked tightly around his waist. Strapped on his back beneath the poncho was a large canvas backpack. The poncho had, until recently given some measure of protection from the rain, but now there was no longer anything within the folds of rubberized plastic to keep dry; he was literally soaked to the skin.

Earlier in the evening, it had, without warning, begun to rain quite heavily and before he could find shelter on this lonely stretch of the highway, he was drenched. After his initial soaking, he had elected not to avail himself of the scant refuge of the sparsely leafed woods for even a brief respite from the storm. He reasoned that if he stopped to take advantage of the meager cover the forest offered, it would only prolong his time in the rain without measurably increasing his comfort. A lot of words to suggest he was already too damned wet for the porous shelter of the trees to be of any value. The only course he decided was to continue moving down the dark road and either outlast the storm or reach some shelter that was more substantial.

As he moved slowly along Jake reflected for the hundredth time on all the idiotic decisions he had made in his near thirty years of life. First was marrying his high school sweetheart when they were both too young to realize what they were committing to and then splitting up and divorcing before they gave their relationship a fair chance to succeed, or themselves time to grow up.

Enlisting in the army right after college graduation because of an ephemeral patriotic fervor was way up there on the list of stupid ideas. And it had been doubly dumb in hindsight to add years to his enlistment so that he could enter ranger school. Although deep down he had to admit he had gotten a keen sense of satisfaction from training and fighting with the best warriors in the world and ultimately matching his skills against a determined and merciless foe.

He did not recall hearing the sound of the enemy rifle nor feel the impact of the bullet that exploded into his body and shattered his left shoulder, back, and part of his chest. But the unheard shot had effectively brought a sudden close to his military career. His active duty service ended halfway through his third tour in Afghanistan. He considered himself fortunate to be alive; for if not for a talented corpsman and rapid air evacuation he would have died on that rocky mountainside.

After several long and painful months in an army hospital where his shattered shoulder, back and upper chest were painstakingly rebuilt, he was offered a promotion to major, and reassignment to a training battalion to pass his skills on to raw recruits. But the rangers would not allow him continued combat duty.

So it was that after more than seven years in the army he reluctantly opted to take a medical discharge; the only other option offered, and reenter civilian life. The only problem with this arrangement was that the only talents he had were leading men in combat and killing quickly and silently, in this he was truly proficient. But alas, he almost murmured aloud woe is me, there wasn’t much demand for this unique set of skills in civilian life.

As he awaited discharge, he had, on the basis of his commanding officer’s recommendation, been offered a job with a security firm in Chicago, to begin in two months’ time. The pay they offered was pretty good but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be a rent-a-cop standing in some bank lobby all day or a baby sitter for some spoiled celebrity or politician; still the man who offered the job said it would be a great deal more than that. He would just have to wait and see.

Jake didn’t have anything particular he wanted to do during the two months he had to wait for the job to open. He couldn’t go home, as the army doctor had advised, for there was no home to go home to. His wife was long gone and his mother and father were dead; both killed when struck in broad daylight by a drunken driver as they hiked along a mountain road, much like this very one except in drier and lighter conditions.

He and his sister were the only two heirs to his parent’s substantial estate and the two had divided equally both the inheritance and the obscenely high settlement from the insurance company representing the murderous drunk. This made both he and his sister financially independent and very close to being really wealthy.

His sister had invited him to stay with her, her husband and their three kids for the period he had to wait for the job to open. He had given it a good try, but after a couple of weeks of doing nothing but watch television, walk the dog, and play with the kids, he decided that he would instead hike from his sister’s home in Philadelphia to Chicago. The walking he figured would build up his strength and also let him see, up close, some of the country he had been fighting for during the last few years. He had planned on periodic stops along the way to visit some of his old army buddies, if he could find them.

After some serious thought, he had to admit that this was probably the crowning idiocy, capping a long history of stupid ideas. But he had rationalized that he not only wanted to see the country first hand but also to demonstrate to himself that his physical abilities had not been seriously degraded by his wounding and his long stay in the hospital. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that his strength and endurance had been diminished. So, as he trod the road on this cold wet night he admitted that this trip was without doubt the pinnacle in a pantheon of dumb ideas. He had started this dumb walk and he prided himself in never giving up on anything once started. Even that notion seemed kinda dumb at the moment.

When he finally roused himself from his self-pity and the mind numbing effect of the darkness and his monotonous pace, he realized that the intensity of the storm had subsided allowing the still steady rain to fall almost vertically from the leaden skies. As he returned to a full consciousness of his surroundings, he saw the headlights and heard the whine of a car racing out of the darkness directly toward him at a particularly terrifying rate of speed.

The car hugged his side of the road; the wrong side for the auto, so Jake hastily jumped from the berm, slid down the bank and stumbled to the edge of the surrounding woods. The car roared by without slowing but a few yards after it passed brake lights flashed and Jake heard the squeal of rubber against the road as the pavement, despite the road’s slick surface, ravaged the car’s tires. The car whipsawed to a skidding sideways halt about a hundred yards from where Jake stood gawking wide-eyed at the car from the edge of the woods.

Jake stood unmoving and watched as the car’s interior lights came on and the dark figure of a large man lurched out of the front seat, stumbled around the back of the car and yanked the front passenger side door open. The shadowy figure then leaned into the car and after several long moments of pulling and cursing, loosened whatever he was after and commenced to drag it of out of the car.

Jake stared blankly for several seconds as the scene unfolded, undecided exactly what he should do, if anything. At length, he decided to at least get a closer look at what was going down. Keeping to the tree line at the base of the bank he cautiously followed the road toward the car. He could see the shadowy figure bend over what appeared to be a large bundle of rags lying on the ground, put one hand on the pile and raise his other hand above his head. He then violently slammed a glistening silver object toward the bundle at his feet. But before he completed the downward stroke he cursed loudly and jerked back.

In an obvious rage, he savagely kicked the bundle and watched intently as it rolled down the steep embankment toward the ditch that edged the woods. He stood for a moment looking down into the ditch, then stepped forward as if intent on following the object down the bank. Apparently changing his mind, he abruptly pivoted, moved back to the car and slammed the still open passenger door shut. Then with one hand held against his chest, he ran around the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. The engine roared, the tires squealed, and the taillights quickly receded into the darkness.

At some point during this drama, Jake began to suspect that all was not right and started to run toward the spot where the car had been stopped. The taillights of the car were fading out of sight by the time he finally reached the spot where the car had been. Due to the rain and darkness, he could barely make out the large bundle lying in a mud-spattered heap in the ditch below him.

He looked down the road at the disappearing car and furiously yelled at the driver to stop. Damn you! I really hate people who dump trash on the highway. I hope your private hell is a garbage dump. Jake had been too slow in reacting to get a license number, but then again what would he have done with the number out here in the middle of nowhere? Well anyway, it was too late now.

As he stood, shaking his fist and watching the taillights fade into the darkness he heard a soft whimpering sound coming from the bundle. He turned quickly and stared down the bank to where the trash had been kicked. Despite the darkness, he was sure he saw movement in the bundle. Oh no, that sorry son of a bitch has dumped an injured dog here to die, he thought. Well I’d better check to see how badly it’s hurt and, if nothing better, put it out of its misery, he said to the darkness.

Jake quickly shucked the pack off his back and laid it on the side of the road, then recovered a small flashlight from one of his many pockets. He placed his feet carefully on the slick bank and tried to slide down. Halfway down he caught his foot on an exposed rock and pitched headfirst into the ditch. He twisted as he fell and saved a complete dunking by extending his left arm into the muddy ooze, stopping his fall a fraction before his face hit the surface.

His hand struck a large rock just below the water and his arm was slammed back against his shoulder. He was shocked by the intense pain. It felt as if he had torn every muscle in his shoulder. He lay stunned for a few moments cursing the continued throb of pain. He slowly stood up carefully regaining his footing. The pain in his shoulder and chest subsided somewhat and he was soon able move his arm freely, but it still hurt like hell.

Using the water from the ditch, he splashed some of the mud from his hands and arms. Now somewhat cleaner, but still angry at his clumsiness he bent down over the bundle of rags to see what poor animal had been so ignominiously dumped.

He pulled his heavy service knife; a gift taken from the army, from a sheath in his boot, and with it carefully moved the rags aside to get a better look at the animal. If it was a dog, it was a big one, and he knew that even a sweet tempered dog might bite when in pain or frightened. Thus using his knife, he carefully folded the rags back to see what they hid. As he leaned in close to the bundle, a small muddy human hand flopped limply out from the folds. The sight of the hand so startled him that he stumbled back and again fell into the ditch.

He slipped and struggled in the water and mud, trying to recover the knife he had dropped and regain his feet. It took several seconds of painful effort and heated cursing for Jake to recover his balance and his composure, and then find his knife. He crawled back to the bundle of rags and began with his muddy hands this time to remove the dirt and wrapping from what he now knew was a human.

As he unwrapped the bundle, a muddy unclad and definitely female figure began to emerge from the sodden mud splattered sheet that was wrapped shroud-like around her body. He quickly but gently wiped the mud from her face.

He could see even in the dim light that her face was a mass of blood and bruises. From a pocket in his backpack, he extracted a small flashlight. He shone the weak beam on the girl’s face and saw swollen eyes, split and bleeding lips, and a small nose canted to one side with blood trickling from it down her upper lip. She had a deep gouge on her forehead and another below her right eye. Her jaw was misshapen but it was difficult to tell whether it was broken or just swollen badly. Most critical, was a long knife wound across her throat.

Jake stared down, sickened by what lay in front of him. His hands trembled with shock and anger as he checked for a pulse, pressing his fingers firmly but gently against the carotid artery while avoiding the bleeding cut that ran across her throat. What kind of a sick depraved bastard could have done this, he said aloud. He felt sickened and weak when he pressed his trembling fingers to her neck, fearing the worst. He detected a strong and steady pulsing as blood continued to pump through the girl’s arteries. Thank You Lord, he murmured. She’s not dead. The girl was alive but he didn’t know for how long in her condition and in this weather without shelter and medical attention.

Jake climbed the bank again and dug through his backpack, searching through its contents until he found and removed a large and well-stocked first aid kit. He grabbed the kit and a bottle of water and slid down the bank once again, this time carefully avoiding the protruding rock. He reached the bottom and the girl without mishap.

Jake poured water from the bottle onto a sterile pad and wiped as much of the mud and blood from her bleeding throat as he could, careful to avoid worsening the wound. He swabbed the wound with another gauze pad that he had doused with disinfectant and then gently smeared antibacterial cream over the wound. He pressed a clean pad across the cut and wrapped a bandage completely around her neck. He wrapped it tight enough to slow the bleeding, but not so tight as to restrict her breathing. The blood was not pulsating from the wound so her attacker had not succeeded in severing the jugular. If he had, she would be dead by now.

When Jake finished cleaning and wrapping the wound, he carefully examined her small but well developed body. He had no trouble removing her clothing; her attacker had already torn most of what she had worn off her slight frame. He carefully examined her body and found multiple nicks and cuts and heavy bruising but no other seriously bleeding wounds or obvious broken bones requiring immediate attention.

He bunched up a small pile of wet leaves on the forest floor then shrugged his poncho off and laid it over the leaves. He then gently lifted the girl from the muddy ditch and laid her down atop the poncho he had cushioned by the leaves. He was surprised at how light she felt.

He struggled back up the bank, grabbed his backpack and pulled it down to where the girl lay. He ransacked his pack until he found a heavy woolen shirt. He sat her up and held her in a sitting position while he put the shirt around her, then laid her back down; pulled dry socks out of his pack and put them on her bare feet. He brushed the water from her short blonde hair as well as he could then wrapped a woolen scarf around her head to prevent heat loss and pulled the poncho around her body so only her broken face was exposed.

He knew he had to get her to shelter soon if she was to survive, so grabbing his flashlight he climbed the bank again and raced out onto the road. Almost immediately, he saw headlights approaching so he ran out into the middle of the road and stood waving the small flashlight in an attempt to get the car to stop.

As the car approached, the driver saw him and slowed down, but then accelerated and swerved around him so sharply that he almost ran off the road and into the ditch. The car bounced back onto the macadam and with a roar raced down the dark road leaving Jake standing in the middle of the road forlornly waving his flashlight at the rapidly disappearing taillights. After several more futile attempts to stop a car, Jake finally accepted the fact that no one in his or her right mind would stop in this dark forbidding place to assist a large