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The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.2 – Estate Planning

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1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

1.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

1.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.9 – ‘Precedent’

2.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.0 -Calvinist Neuroses

2.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.1 – Mirage

I handed the chocolaty concoction to our stricken friend, whose voice, and redness of features still bore witness of his recent ordeal.

Lucas and I sat down and everyone was quiet for a bit. I could see several heads nodding as if they were about to fall into a dream. The hour was of course by now quite late. Maybe I should have chosen coffee over alcohol.

Eventually, Lucas looking at Jesse, spoke up, “Looks like Alan’s caught your mood.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“I mean he’s seeing stuff too. Just said something about lights out on the lake.”

“You saw ‘em too!”

I nodded.

“I tell ya, they called them up, called them up right up out of the lake! I saw them with their gizmo out at da rocks about a mile from here. The look of ‘em, I nearly hollered, I nearly ran back home, and woulda too if it hadn’t been for that mut…”

“Hold on, hold on, Jesse. Let’s start things from the beginning. How did you end up out here? This area technically doesn’t exist.”

There was a pause as the rustic gathered his thoughts.

“Me n Jumper were trackin pigs. I almost was on top of em too but the dog was acting up, getting goofy in steps, like somethin had grabbeh a hold of his brains, anyway, I could hear em snorting just a few yards away, then suddenly he yelped and jetted off deep deep into the woods, headin west from what I remember.”

“Yeah, we’re more or less sixty miles west of Foley.”

“Sixty miles…! No, no way, I wasn’t a walkin’ for longer than an hour and had been trackin maybe since three in the afternoon.”

“Hmm…well did you drive up to Totten’s cabin like usual?”

“Yea.”

“Well that’s twenty miles west of Foley.”

“There ain’t no way that I walked longer than a couple of miles before I saw em….”

“Maybe so, but what happened afterwards….”

I was getting annoyed.

“Ok, hold on! Like I was saying let’s keep things chronological…so, you were out pig hunting, your dog freaked out, and you saw them…”

The giant hunter paused again to find his place in the story.

“…yea so Jumper ran off, and that’s Totten’s favorite dog, and he’d have my hide if I lost him. So I gave up the pigs which were spooked by his antics anyhow and I chased that damned mut. It wasn’t hard cause he would pause every once in a while and turn in weird little circles like he was trying to make up his mind on somethin. But…whenever I was on top of him he shot off again, always headin west, I always keep my GPS and compass on me, direct beeline west.”

He sipped the cocoa for a while, obviously enjoying it, letting the steam soothe away the trace of CS. I grinned as he shot me a venomous look.

‘Hey, if you trespass on private land in Appalachian hills…tear gas is probably the best outcome…’ I thought to myself.

“It was pretty soon that I realized that this was the way to old Luckadoo’s lodge.”

“How do you know about Luckadoo? About this place?”

Pierce burst out in a chuckle. “That porch mason!”

“Huh…?”

“Deacon Mitchum…that’s the connection to spooky Doo. He was never well liked by the brothers here… and the Deacon aimed to find out what the hell that icy Brit was doin’ in Foley. Jesse’s dad is real good at ingratiating himself, he even broke down the batards classic English reserve… God, this must have been years ago though.”

“I was about six at the time that dad n me were invited out here for a turkey shoot.”

“God, William must have been ancient, if you were six, what’s that 2003, he must have been nearing eighty, hell ninety, no no, he was about the same age at the time as Lord Russel was when he passed, three years shy of a hundred.”

“Well, he didn’t look much older than Officer Fabre over there…” Jesse interjected.

“Really! I’ve been practicing here since ’78 and he was already getting grey then.”

“Well, there was a touch of grey in the hair.”

“A touch! The man you saw wasn’t Luckadoo!”

“Oh, yeah, now I remember that was Mr. Luckadoo’s son.”

“Ah! Of course, 2003 is when Luckadoo died and his slacker son took over the estate.”

“Yeah, he was talkin about plans of turning this into a huntin’ resort with discounts for the locals. He was real nice. But my dad kept on tellin’ me stories bout that whole clan, said they was no good, involved with some business havin to do with some kinda Dawn back in England or somethin, anyhow..”

“Discounts for the locals, old bastard musta turned in his grave twice.”

I recalled the man I’d met when Thornton was negotiating to have us sequestered here.

The land, the lake, and the lodge didn’t see the plans the squire imagined. There was a provision in the will which he found distasteful. But duty was duty, and the only protest Thorton recalled from the heir was a furrowed brow, as the land was publicly noted to have been placed in the care of ‘The Army Corps of Engineers.’

Classic DARPA shenanigans. But, that was the funny thing. There was no need for the son to know anything about the real intent of the land, the real reason for all the NDA’s.

God!

I’d never thought about it. Why did Lucas and I have to meet Henry? Now that I thought about it, it was almost like we were reporting to him, Thorton too..I’d never seen a subservient side of him before. What was this…and NASA…?

“Ok, ok!” I said as annoyance broke me out of my reverie. “So, you knew about this place, had been here before, and ended up heading in this direction looking for a dog you’d borrowed, then you saw something…”

“Yea, yea, then I saw them…”

His eyes turned distant.

“Them…?”

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.1 – Mirage

On By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

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1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

1.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

1.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.9 – ‘Precedent’

2.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.0 -Calvinist Neuroses

It was the doctor’s turn to laugh. “Well, Jesse, I see your love of Shakespeare has paid off. That was pretty damned dramatic.”

The big oaf was momentarily embarrassed dawdling at the threshold.

Then a fresh burst of zeal overtook him and he rushed into the light of the fire.

“These, what are ya doin with these…”

“These what Mr. Jessup?” Doctor Pearce inquired cooly.

“These!…Devil worshipers…”

The word hung awkwardly on the air before the whole room erupted in raucous laughter. The boy’s face did bear some evidence of intelligence but his rustic accent and protestant zeal were too much for composure.

“I saw you, I saw you out in the woods, actin actin like like warlocks, don’t deny it, there ain’t no use, ain’t no laughin where you’re goin…”

We redoubled our laughter. The way that lanky Graham’s clothes straight-jacketed the brawny youth’s broad shoulders made his rustic preachments doubly funny.

“You claim that we are witches, Inquisitor!?” I said in a comically arcane English accent.

“No one expects the Yokel Inquisition!” Lucas caught on to the Pythonism.

Jesse Mitchum’s embarrassment was creeping back into his wholesome, square-jawed, features.

“You know Jesse, in your defense, I’d believe they’re witches quicker than what they really are.”

“What are ya’ll doin’ out here! You’re just like old Luckadoo’s kin, wicked, wicked to the core…!”

“They’re soldiers, Jesse, defending America…with better life through chemistry.” The doctor announced with his characteristic acerbic sarcasm.

I was beginning to get curious, we rarely ventured far into the woods, and our voodoo themed ayahuasca trips were held in a root cellar. The lad struck me as a typical Methodist teetotaler and I doubted highly he was given to hallucinations. He must have seen something.

“Jesse,” I said, “I think that’s your name, so, Jesse, I promise you that we are way too fond of lattes and craft beer to venture too far out into these hills. Whatever you saw wasn’t us. Though I’m as curious, as the hell that you’re promising me, as to what you saw exactly.”

Our unexpected guest relaxed a little and seemed to enjoy the respect in my voice. Pearce had mentioned something to him about his study of Shakespeare. I was dealing with a budding thespian.

“Well..” He began.

I held up my hand. “Take a seat, get comfortable, do you want something to drink? I bet you’re wanting something warm?”

“Ya’ll wouldn’t happen to have some Cocoa?”

“O Graham has plenty of Cocoa.” Sam quipped as he did a pantomime noseful.

I had forgotten about Graham in all of the excitement. He hadn’t said a word since his French exchange with Officer Fabre. The traces of that sardonic smirk still played in curlicues round the corners of his mouth. His eyes were distant and unpleasantly cold, mocking even…

I got up to fetch the cocoa partly cause Chuk had fallen asleep and I was the backup chef, and partly to dispel the serious dose of heeby-jeebies that I’d just gotten off of Graham Hoyt.

I wasn’t spooked easily. And while I’m not an atheist, my outlook on cosmic matters is so spartan and empirical that I wouldn’t blame a body for thinking that I was. There was something about that look, and the whole atmosphere around Hoyt, the suddenness of the shift from his vivacious Etruscan chattiness to this brooding haughtiness, that reached down into my guts and broke my skin out in goosebumps.

While I was getting the powder from the cabinet above the microwave I felt a command.

Look out the window.

It was very stern. It was impossible to resist the compulsion. I looked and I froze.

There out beyond the dock in the midst of the cold mountain lake were lights. Fantastic lights of various hues, violet, green, crimson, deep blue. They appeared as orbs glowing with a ferocious luminosity and doing a sort of rhythmic rearrangement round some spot. There was a strong sense of intelligence and intent.

“Hey, hey Baird, hey what’s taking so long…. I’m keen to hear what this yahoo has to say.”

I couldn’t look away or say anything.

“Hey!”

I managed to mumble with a slurred sort of awe, past whatever was keeping my jaw from working, like speaking through a straw… “Look, there…”

For some reason, it was damnably difficult to get my arm to move so I could point.

Schmidt slapped me on the back. “You gotta cool it with the boozin man, you’re slurring like a motherfucker.”

This brought me back into a fuller control of my faculties.

“Hey, hey! Look out the damned window asshole!” I yelled.

There was a pause.

“Uh…at what…”

“Don’t you see the lights…”

But there was nothing but darkness now.

“Have you been microdosing again?”

“No, holy shit, you can’t tell me you didn’t see that…”

“Dude, my last liver workup looked like a Merck catalog, I see shit all the time. But there’s nothing out there but owl shit and darkness at the moment. I promise you.”

“Well fuck…”

“You alright man?”

“Yea, yea,” I said as I put the milk in a clumsily rinsed kettle.

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.0 -Calvinist Neuroses

On By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment
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John Calvin

1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

1.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

1.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.9 – ‘Precedent’

The giant was really taking his sweet time. I wasn’t worried. There was no way out except to pass my line of sight. My lazyboy was pointed to provide ample view of the stairwell.

We were all a bit surprised to hear Cameron’s name.

The fire crackled and lit tense faces.

“You do me a disservice doctor.”

“O?”

“Yes, I’m not Presbyterian.”

“Come again?”

“Calvinists…predermination..that’s really not my cuppa tea.”

“I don’t really follow…”

“Strenght and Beauty…not a bad little book…but quite ripe for perversion…”

The doctor was completely lost.

“Cameron’s father was a Presbyterian minister, there’s a wee book by another fellow of that denomination called Strength and Beauty.”

“I thought Cameron was Canadian. Catholic.”

“Scottish actually. It’s the experiments that took place in Canada.” I paused searching my mind for the name behind the book I’d just mentioned.

“…ooo that’s right the fellows name was Miller..JR..or JD something to that effect, anyway I quite fancy the thing, good advice, very elegant and cheery…but all throughout there’s that sneaky nordic sternness, a bit imbecilic, in fact I think Nietzsche called it out quite well, it is a beersoaked contentment, volkish, daft, ponderous, German…”

“Cameron hated the Germans.”

“Yes, which I always found to be most amusing given how Teutonic a flavor his weltanschauung held.”

“I’m lost.”

“Well, the fellow had a very bizarre sort of idea of normalcy. That there were the ‘strong healthy types’ suited for industrial societies and then there were the ‘weak and maladapted’… most markedly displaying themselves in the German populace, via aggression and the neurosis of xenophobia. It was a wonderfully Celtic inversion of Hitler’s idea. We’re the master race! No lad! You’re the Jews!”

I chuckled a bit. “Yes, it would all be quite funny if he weren’t handed so much money and authority out where the Mounties roam….O My God the women in Montreal…anyway…he was very strong on the idea that everything was biological and that psychiatry should take a disciplinary approach. This led to those infamous incidents at Allan Memorial. Though honestly I’m surprised you’d heard of it.”

“You’d be surprised by a lot of the things I’ve heard.”

“Doubtless, doctor, doubtless. But yes we’re not doing anything of the sort here and I find the guilt by association offensive. Just because my last name is Scottish… Cameron was nothing but a simple-minded euphemism of a lobotomist living out Calvinist neurosis.”

“Calvinist neurosis?”

“Aye, think about…predetermination.. you are born damned or saved…you are born fit or unfit…your brain shape and chemistry making you either healthy or unhealthy…very little room for nuance…no free will…simply automata that must be repaired by the healthy…of course the healthy are the ones that view the world this way…which is…” I burst out laughing. “So profoundly daft that it makes me believe in God, because only the hand of something so grandiose could make creatures capable of such folly.”

No sooner had my fit of mirth ended then I noted a large frame at the bottom of the stairs.

The giant’s shoulders drooped and he was still miserable from my little tactical measure.

“How dare ya tak bout the Lord…” He said in a low voice.

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.9 – ‘Precedent’

On By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

 

D. Ewen Cameron

 

 

1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

1.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

“O Christ, looks like you gassed Deacon Mitchum’s kid.” Pierce chuckled.

“What in the hell are you doin’ out here Jesse?” Officer Fabre inquired.

“Not now,” I said. “He needs to get warm and quick.”

I escorted the stricken captive up the stairs.

“I ain’t gonna bathe you, the water is probably gonna irritate your skin at first, but the steam will do good for your mucous membranes. We made sure to have hot fucking water. So you’re in luck. I think you can find your way back down to the living room and back down the stairs. We know who you are now and I could get you in a hell of a lot of trouble so there’s no point in braving the cold and runnin off. Got it, kid?”

The ruddy-faced giant just sort of nodded in a defeated way and went into the bathroom to nurse his wounds.

“So I guess those weren’t your bootmarks I found round the greenhouse,” I said to Fabre.

“O no, you won’t find trace of Phillipe Fabre.”

“You don’t track a coonass, a coonass tracks you.” Doc Pierce enjoined.

“Well, whatever. In either…in both cases, I ain’t too pleased. What’s that kid doin tresspassin…what are you doin’ tresspassin without a warrant?”

“Well, this is my town.”

“This is outside of your jurisdiction…”

“Nah.”

I shook my head.

“You understand that from even a basic legal standpoint you are in the wrong. And since this is a military operation you could be in a hell of a lot of trouble.”

“I still don’t know what the hell this is all about. All these exotic plants, ya’ll are real young too, there’s no way that one is a colonel…” Fabre said pointing to Schmidt.

I laughed. “Nepotism.”

“Ain’t that just the way it always is…” Pierce affected a southern drawl.

“Also, we’re a bit older than we look. That’s part of the schtick. I’m twenty-eight, Schmidt is thirty, Sam is twenty-six, and the two boffins are also about to hit thirty rock.”

“Ok…so what’s all this…”

“Well…frankly I don’t have to tell you anything, I could hand you over, and you’d have an assfull of fines and NDA’s. But that means more work for me….paperwork…so….”

I weighed my options again momentarily.

“So..”

“So it’s easier just to tell you that we’re here conducting research on behalf of Uncle Sam. I’m basically security and liaison, Schmidt is team leader, Sam is a toxicologist for DARPA, Chuck is a UC Davis botanist, and Graham is here just cause we like him and we share your approach to flaunting regulations.”

“That still doesn’t tell me what’s goin’ on…” Fabre said with a befuddled look.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I asked.

“You’re doing chemical research…” Doc Pierce offered.

“Close. The full explanation is that we’re studying the effects of various psychedelics and subliminally induced states. Along with a tad of work on understanding and neutralizing viral and bacterial agents.”

“So you’re a Psyops and Bio Warfare outfit…”

“In a manner of speaking.”

There was some small span of silence as the two visitors digested the information.

“Hold on if you’ve got the kind of clearance you say you do, and this is that kind of operation…there’s no way that top brass doesn’t already know we’re here.”

I chuckled. “You think we’re being surveilled?”

“I guarantee it. That is if you’re being honest.”

“Ok…so sound weapons, leapfrog tactics, tear gas, and a greenhouse full of military grade psilocybin and nightshade on crack don’t convince you…”

“It’s just really out there…”

“Well, reality is really out there. We’re on a rock hurling itself round the sun and in the span of a few generations we’ve gone from riding four-legged animals to walking on the moon…”

“I guess it’s possible.”

“Damn right. But you know what’s impossible…?”

The two men humored my dramatic pause.

“Spying on Alan Baird.”

“I think you underestimate the snoopiness of your employers.” Pierce remarked.

“There are three things necessary to keep tabs as close as you’re suggesting. The first is manpower, the second is probable cause, and the third is technical facility.”

“And I’d assume that whatever Black Ops juju you’re involved with has all three in spades.”

“Your antique assumption of competence is charming Doc. But, the complexities and vulnerabilities of digital systems are highly exploitable. And politics has weaseled itself even further up the chain of command and past every conceivable barrier of clearance.”

“Politics…”

“Yep, case in point, take a look at Schmidtty over there…handsome ain’t he?”

“I don’t swing that way brother,” Fabre said.

“Don’t be a homophobe you know you’re a sucker for those sweet baby blues. So is Alison…”

“Alison?”

“Hey Ali! How was that trip to Malibu with….Lukey Pooohhh. DAWWWWWWW!” I said boisterously as I pretended to speak into a hidden microphone behind a tapestry. “His daddy sure has a nice little beach house doesn’t he..you spoiled fucks...”

“Eh, I dunno, I think you’re setting yourself up for trouble…”

“Oh…we would be if that was the extent of our capabilities.”

“Huh..”

“What she and the rest of the donut dippers are listening to is actually an artfully rendered loop, of us acting out, the sorts of things we’re supposed to be up to. She simply makes sure the charade is complete by hammering out any inconsistencies.”

“Hmm…”

“Don’t underestimate the corrupting influence of an attractive brunette in a sea of IT geeks.”

There was yet another pause as the two men took in the full weight of everything that was going on.

“Wait, there’s a precedent, you’re…you’re the successors of Ewen Cameron’s abortion…”

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

On By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

KentuckyForest

1.1  Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

I punched in the code on the keypad in the hall. The kitchen door swung open and we waited nearly a minute for the smoke to clear. There was still some irritant.

Our intruder was a big fellow but something in the shock of burgundy hair bespoke youth. He was doubled over the sink. His hands clattering blindly over unwashed dishes searching for the faucet handle.

“Looks like he’s found his way to the world’s shittiest eyewash station.” I chuckled between coughs.

We’d gone retro. Hell, this wasn’t even strictly legal and we should be wearing masks. It was my decision, I really hated trespassers, but I somewhat softened when that red, swollen face, turned round to try and look at me.

“It burns! It burns deep.” He said with a disturbing hoarseness.

“Jesus, Alan, Jesus, why did you pick CS, that kind… hell where did you get it?”

We’d run back out into the hall. It was horrid. I’d let zeal get the best of me.

“Hey, it was an option, I don’t ask questions, I wasn’t expecting to use this shit on civilians.”

“How do you know he’s a civ? And shit that doesn’t even make sense. Domestic enforcement only Alan.”

“He can’t be any more than twenty maybe twenty-one. His clothes reek of the hills. There’s a loophole somewhere…” I hoped. More awkward meetings with Thorton…

“Well, fuck, we don’t have masks, how are we gonna solve this shit.”

“There’s some saline in storage, we’ll grab that, but really the best thing is fresh air. It’s been about four minutes now with that door open…. Let’s take him outside. I doubt he’s gonna put up a fight.”

“He’s a big fucker.”

“Don’t be a pussy, Lucas. He’s a kid with a lungful of bees.”

The guy was retching now.

“Oh no no..buddy…this kitchen is messy enough…” I said putting a hand on his back and positioning my hips in case I had to slam the fucker.

He didn’t seem to put up any resistance. “Ok, kid, you’re gonna have to step out this door and get some fresh air.” I couldn’t help but cough myself. “My buddy here will wet a rag and then we’re gonna give you some saline and water for flushing.”

“My skin burns, everything burns….”

“Lucas go grab some of Graham’s clothes and that saline. Double time.”

He was gone.

The stranger just kept groaning and retching in the chill Kentucky air. The contrast was odd. Such serenity sat awkwardly against the loud and painful events of just moments ago.

I couldn’t help but wonder how in the hell he’d gone here. The nearest ‘road’ was fifty or so miles from here and the lake didn’t touch any property that was known to anyone save Uncle Sam, people tied up by NDA’s, and maybe a couple of venturesome hicks.

He was too young though.

I was impressed with Lucas efficiency. He was back with all the necessary things within the span of six minutes.

“Ok, I’m gonna need you to take off your top layers of clothing, and put on these.”

“I can’t see…I can’t breathe…”

“Strip.”

A jacket, a flannel, and a beanie were tossed aside.

“Now here’s a jug of water. Flush your eyes with it.” I said making sure his hand found the handle.

“Not all at once. Try to keep your eyes open…”

He was pouring it too quickly but I didn’t blame him.

“Slow down a bit…ok good…”

He got the idea and applied the water to his eyes in measured doses.

“Ok, now take some of this saline and spray it in your nose,” I said handing him a pressurized can of the stuff.

“Ok, now dry off with that towel. I’m going to take you to our shower, you need to run that water hot, it’s not going to be pleasant, but right now you’re soaked and it’s below freezing, so…get inside…double time…”

Our intruder was somewhat recovered.

As we stepped back into the kitchen I saw his red half shut eyes give something like a look of recognition.

“Doc Pierce….?” He inquired with hoarse incredulity.

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

On By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Related image

1.1  Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

It was cold, and there was that pine dampness to contend with. I was glad that our guests were too stunned for words. I didn’t like talking while I worked.

Having carried the logs from the basement to the hearth I proceeded to light them.

“Don’t you boys have central heating?”

“It ain’t enough on a night like this,” Sam answered for me knowing my disdain for conversation during activity.

Luckadoo’s lodge was large. We sat in one of the most impressive rooms. The ceiling stretched twenty feet overhead. Five feet above the Buck’s head above the fireplace. There were the obligatory fox hunt paintings and animal skins about. Bespeaking the English pretensions of the moneyed classes of the region. Though, come to think of it Luckadoo actually was a Limey.

With the aid of a bit of kerosene, a roaring flame brought a humanizing cheer to the somber masculine poshness of the room. Our guests were sat in great mahogany leather chairs, while we occupied an assortment of beanbags and lazyboy’s that we’d brought to keep the antique, haunted vibe of the place from overwhelming us.

I reached under my seat and produced a flask.

“Jesus,” Officer Fabre chuckled. “A flask for every occasion? How many of them things do you got?”

“You’d better be glad he has those. You should see him au natural. Patience was never a virtue for Alan Baird.”

I always felt that people overstated the ‘problem’ with my temper. I simply had no use for the excesses and liberties most people thought normal. Generally, I’d let them know nicely, the first time.

“Oh, come on now, I’m a regular sweetheart,” I protested. “In fact, how about I get everyone a round.”

“A round of what?” The Doctor inquired.

“A round you’ll like,” I said rising to my feet and making my way towards the kitchen.

“Alan never disappoints in spiritual matters.” I heard Lucas say with a chuckle as I rounded the corner.

Almost immediately the voices of guests and companions alike were muted. Replaced by an eerie sort of silence broken only by the muffled cry of a nearby owl. The place was a nightmare from a security standpoint.

A coked up sorority with air horns for shoes wouldn’t be any less stealthy than a SEAL team. The stolid nature of the log and stone made the transmission of sound a near impossibility. It was preternaturally quiet. Like being in a well-appointed sensory deprivation chamber.

It got unnerving from time to time. Which is why I was glad for our motion sensors. But the two boffins we’d taken on board had forced me to minimize its use or risk another round of false alarms. I really wished that they weren’t high all the time. But I suppose that was part of the project.

Yeah, I’d bet we’d have caught our French friend if I hadn’t dispensed with arming the thing. Though I’m glad we hadn’t. This present situation was far less awkward than having to phone Langley. I might still have to make the report.

Despite the size of the kitchen it was as cluttered as the comically tiny one in the apartment I’d grown up in. None of us had the time or inclination to do much dish-washing. I really didn’t mind mess except that mess made it hard to know if something had been tampered with.

As I turned on the light and saw a few woodland roaches scatter over greasy pans I couldn’t help but feel that something was off.

I shrugged away the sensation as I stepped behind my minibar. I wasn’t an expert mixologist. I really didn’t care for overzealous bartending. A mint leaf here, a dash of vodka there, a good ice ratio… Really all the magic you need, provided that you were serving up the good stuff.

After pausing for a moment I headed to the fridge. A couple of beers or so would probably be welcome.

As I carried the tray out the door I could have sworn I heard footsteps. I paused to listen. It was probably my imagination.

As I headed towards the parlor I heard the unmistakable sound of falling silverware. I continued on my way as if I hadn’t noticed.

My friends were chatting merrily amongst themselves as I set the tray on a round oak table beneath a Tiffany lamp.

“Ach!” I said in as loud a voice as naturalness would allow, “Ach! I forgot the chasers!”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, that looks fine enough.” The doctor offered.

I shook my head and tapped Lucas thrice on the shoulder. He rose and produced something from behind a bookshelf.

Our guests picked up the funky vibe.

“Act natural,” I mouthed.

“Yeah, I always forget the damned chasers,” I said loudly as the conversation around me recommenced. “Hey, Lucas come help me carry the damned things. That’s the trouble I tell ya…”

As we approached the kitchen I switched to a no less enthusiastic but somewhat more subdued volume. “Yeah, how did you like that plum stuff from Serbia?”

“Was alright,” Lucas said just as we reached the door.

“Here try a shot of this before I put it back,” I announced. Pausing to listen.

I didn’t have to listen very long, for the sound of someone trying to open the kitchen door that led outside. A kitchen door with no keyhole controlled from a keypad in the hall.

Lucas handed me a small dark green cylinder. I removed the pin, and ever so lightly rolled it in the direction of the kitchen’s sole egress.

We moved away. As far away as we could. But not so far that we couldn’t hear coughing and swearing.

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

On By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

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1.1  Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

It always felt like bursting into another world. The only sensation I could effectively liken it to was cave diving. Something I’d done once on the dime of Lucas’ dad.

The thing was like swimming through some narrow submerged corridor, and bursting into one of those vaulted dagger studded chambers that knew no light, save the febrile beam of your headlamp.

Luckadoo’s estate sat in a clearing in the thick woods denuded just enough to afford a modest yard.

I heard the sheriff’s car pull up beside us. We’d dimmed our lights ten whole minutes ago but the squad car illuminated the oak and stone walls with an officious glaring brightness. Lucas hopped out of the driver’s seat and ran over to tell Fabre to cut it out.

He was back momentarily. We heard the sound of a cell phone. Pierce answered: ‘Hello.’

After a second. He put it on speaker.

“What the hell did you just blabber about, why should the lights be off, what the..”

“We need to secure the perimeter,” Lucas replied matter of factly.

“Secure, the perimeter, what are you talking about, listen…”

Lucas popped open his cell phone and tapped on the screen as Fabre’s protestation continued to pour from the doctor’s device.

Suddenly there was a very odd sound. One that bespoke suspense and familiarity at the same time. Fabre’s voice grew still.

Out in the sea of trees, as far from the reach of civilization as one could get in a global village, the sound of a THX soundcheck rang out through the valley.

Suddenly there was another sound, it was some simple spoken words, done in a sing-song chant to a certain pitch and rhythm, it was Roger Waters, “Is there anybody out there?”

“The wall…”

Graham flipped a metal switch on the dash. The house, the yard, the woods, and what we could see of the lake beyond were illuminated by harsh glaring floodlights that may as well have been the noonday sun.

“Holy shit!” Fabre was apparently still on the line.

Lucas reached down beneath the armrest and pulled up a mouthpiece on a black coiled wire.

“This is Colonel Schmidt of LRD, Army Corps of Engineers, you are within a federal jurisdiction, you are advised to immediately beach all watercraft, and give a report of your position. Having done so you are to step into our immediate line of sight. The line of sight being in front of the vehicles. Drop all weapons and proceed with your hands held high. Be advised that we are authorized and capable of using deadly force.”

“What in the fuck…” Doc Pierce muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

I chuckled. It was always funny to see Lucas Schmidt with his surfer boy haircut deliver such stentorian tones. I suppose having an admiral for a father does make a difference.

There was a five-minute wait for a response.

“If you are military, federal, or law enforcement personnel, state your rank, file, serial number and purpose clearly. If you are within fifty yards of our position we will hear you. Do you copy?”

Again we waited five minutes.

“I repeat, military federal, and law enforcement personnel, are advised to give a prompt and clear report of purpose and station. Failure to comply may result in disciplinary measures. We wish to avoid friendly fire but are authorized to engage, should the need arise. Do you copy?”

We waited five more minutes. There was no response.

Each member of our team put on headphones. I handed a pair to the doctor who complied wordlessly. Lucas ran out of the car with another pair. We heard his voice and the sheriff’s voice arguing through the doctor’s cell phone speaker.

Out of the car window, I saw Lucas’ screen shine dimly in the glare of the spotlights. Then the floodlights died.

Suddenly there was a pulse and a harsh shrill sound, that was thankfully muffled by the deadening in our headphones. You could feel it on your skin, it was like an air dryer, the pressure pushing the hairs on my arms in every direction.

The cars shook gently, the window panes rattling, the windows of the house also rattled, leaves and weaker branches fell from the roof and the trees.

I put away my flask and picked up a P320 from under the seat. The doctor shied away from me mid-process. I motioned for him to stay in the car.

Lucas opened the doctor’s door and extracted the Mossberg 500 off of Pierce’s lap.

Graham, Chuck, the Doctor, and the Sherrif had been pantomimed into staying put as Sam with his own Sig joined me and Lucas in a serpentine toward the door.

I punched in the keycode and Lucas dashed in sweeping the area. I tapped him on the shoulder and saw his flashlight mount head off to clear the eastern wing. I heard the door shut behind me and felt a tap on my own shoulder. Sam headed to the western wing as I made my way upstairs.

We then reconvened in the parlor to clear the basement, backyard, and dock.

The whole process took eight minutes. At every point at least one of us had a line of sight to the vehicles.

At the end, the sound died and we took up position one man prone on the front porch and two flanking the sides of the house.

Sam and I held our position with our sidearms at the ready as Lucas escorted the Doctor, the Sherrif, and our two civvie comrades to the door.

Once inside the rustic wood-paneled lodge with its gentleman hunter’s décor we felt the comedy of contrasts and laughed.

“That is one hell of an ADT system,” Fabre remarked.

Image Credit: https://www.thoughtco.com/cave-diving-isnt-crazy-2963325

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

On By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

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1.1  Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

To Luckadoo Cove

The Wagoneer was totally silent, save for the rushing of cold country air through a window cracked just enough to vent Graham’s cigarette.

It was eerie. I was the least spiritual of the bunch. Generally taking all our little rites and chemical adventures as so much psychodrama for creative stimulation. Yet the way the gibbous moon hovered above the solitary spire of Foley’s United Methodist Church. The general sleepy stillness of the hollow, like some perpetual dream, was beginning to stir things in my imagination. As we rounded the last ‘civilized’ corner of Foley proper to enter a wooded country road the feeling was compounded.

The still searching faces of my comrades didn’t help matters. There was only one face that showed no fear of magic. It was that of our unexpected guest. Whose implacable thin-lipped smirk would probably outlast the reaper.

Doctor Pierce was with us. He’d made just one single remark in the past quarter-hour. He was clearly of a reserved nature. His eyes were of an indeterminate color. Perhaps hazel but they were absolutely resolute. Chuck’s comment about his age rang true until you glimpsed those eyes. These were old eyes. Ancient with experience, they seemed to drink in everything, and find it daft.

Officer Fabre was following us in his squad car. Not that he needed to. I’d now had my suspicions confirmed. There weren’t many deer with two legs. Neither did deer rifle through ones papers. I did have to give him credit though. He was a stealthy git. I did really attribute all such happenings to inattention and wildlife till a few days ago when I found boot treads round the greenhouse.

I was quiet impressed that after forty-five minutes of plowing through the inky hills we’d heard nothing but the weird cry of an ocassional owl. Normally there was much protestation even from my preternaturally silent ex, that dirty blonde Finnish number, I really missed her quiet energy. She’d gone back home after the last semester. I really do hate family values….

My musings were cut short as they always were by the change of surface. The smooth silence gave way to a quiet sort of crunch as our tires found Kentucky clay.

The woods here were deep and thick. They pressed in closely on either side. There was scarcely room to lean an elbow out the window. The old growth branches vaulted overhead suggesting a foyer. It was as if we were being borne along to some sacred ancient temple.

In some sense I suppose we were. These hills, with their attendant mountains, the valleys and meadows, and woods were positively primordial. especially here where geology chose to become Swiss Cheese. Strange noises did at times carry on the air. This was due to winter wind passing through grid lock caverns like some vast pipers breath through a hoary chanter.

These especially when combined with the subtle rush of subterranean streams made it seem as if a thousand voices were reciting some subtle litany. We had arrived where nature worshiped. The prayer it offered to the glimmering heavens at times answered by the shooting tear of a falling star. It was as if some great god wept with joy at the song of his children.

Yes, this was indeed a temple. I began to feel some certain pious trepidation. This place was perhaps no more ancient than my own blood and bones but my conceptions had only the faintest inkling of the purpose of my blood and bones. These hills knew, they knew why marrow fed the ligaments of the things that scurried through them. They knew and they brooded in a rapt vesper.

Perhaps they were now toying with us. Putting things into our head. Since we’d come here just for that purpose. They honored our request for their influence. I do not know if we are meant for such influence…

I broke my trance by taking another swig of Jim. There was something in its warm cheery sting that quickly dispelled any ancient terrors. Though in such a place, where the thing called time stands still, the aeons are merely muted by such tricks. Muted but not drowned.

“This is a Mossberg.” Came the quietly surprised voice of the doctor from the seat behind me.

I turned round to see him inspecting the gun appreciatively.

“Yes it is,” said Lucas who was driving, “and we’re here.”

 

 

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

On By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

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Intro/1.1 – Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 – The Cajun Prayer

1.3 – The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

Horticulture 

“Just look at these curls….” Said the nurse running her fingers through Hoyt’s golden ringlets.

“Yeah, they probably smell like patchouli.” Lucas said wryly.

“You might wanna sterilize your hands. Who knows what’s been nesting in there…”

“Ya’ll should leave him alone. He’s the handsomest one…and so tall…”

Graham wasn’t handsome but she did have a point about the height. He looked ridiculous hunched up on that little examining bed. With his long thin arms between his knees he looked like some kind of shagged out alien. He seemed very tired.

“He might be tall. But I’ll have you know that I’m the handsome one.” Sam said dramatically tossing his own brown mane to shoot her an I’m so sexy stare.

We all laughed because of how plain he was. He wasn’t ugly just incredibly typical. There was nothing to suggest itself as pretty or ugly in his WASPY features.

“Well, I suppose you’re all charmin’ in your own ways but…I do mean that you should leave him alone, he needs to rest, make sure he drinks plenty o water too.”

“We will.” I said as I nervously pondered what exactly was going to happen. Pierce had remained outside with Fabre and we were all anticipating some fresh sentence when the officer regained his wits.

I fingered my flask.

The nurse continued chatting pleasantly with Sam whose thirst for female attention knew no bounds. I think she enjoyed humoring him. His poorly disguised attraction must have been flattering to a woman approaching middle age.

“Well now…what do you have there…” she asked snatching my flask away just as I got the barest sip of Jim.

“O mercy.. whisky..this is strong…how do you stomach it…” Her disgust was so genuine that I couldn’t suppres a smile.

“Twice barreled, top shelf, twelve years in the makin’ ain’t something to turn your nose up at ma’am. Besides it helps with the nerves.”

“And what does a young man with enough money for the ‘top shelf’ have to worry about? What are you boys upto out here? What did you do to your friend?”

“Well, I guess it’s the purdy girls that make me nervous,” I said with my most winning smile.

“Flattery ain’t gonna work on me none sugar,” she said laconically, “’fess up, what’s all this gentry doin’ out in Foley?”

“We’re here for the inspiration, we’re artists and….”

“Yeah, yeah, they’re artists uhuh….” said the Doctor upon entering the room with the somewhat recovered looking sherif.

The pretty lady laughed. Her upturned little nose scrunching up a dozen darling little freckles that may as well have been the stars of a Kentucky night. ‘I need a date.’ I laughed to myself as I realized how long I’d been in the hills.

It was this state that made me particularly keen on noticing that unmistakable sort of familiarity between our Frankish chief and the nurse. Jealousy does have its uses I mused as I ruefully gripped my recently reacquired flask firmer.

I was glad we hadn’t told her anything…but more than a bit worried about what she might have extracted out of Graham. There was no reserve in Graham Hoyt. He was nothing like his English father. He talked with his hands like his mother. Italians…

Pierce was laughing. “Well boys, old Philly Fabre here’s just told me the most coonass story I ever heard. Full of magic, and bayous, and Catholic guilt. Definitely displaying some hyper-religiosity…”

“Coonass…?”

“Means Cajun…” Chuck whispered. He was our resident Trebek. His mastery of trivia did have its uses despite being largely insufferable. He was a hipster caricature a bourgeoise Google savant. Memorizing more irrelevancies in day then a Trekkie does in a lifetime.

“Yeah, coonass and shrimp boat reeking as they come.” Pierce laughed. “Hell I think he actually did work a shrimp boat as a boy…” Pierce was really laughing now.

“Ain’t no shame in the trades.” I said.

“Of course, of course, I meant no offense, only that the man is so damnably iconic. I suppose Americana survives in the weirdest of places. Now…” He said with a glance at Graham.

“Your friend seems to be fine enough to go home.”

“So we can go…” Lucas was excited.

“….Yes…of course…but…as I have told the Officer here…the best way to surmount your fears is to face them head on, that’s what got me through Pnomh Penh…”

“You seem a little young for that one.” Chuck said.

“I age well.” Pierce responded. He was the iciest man I’d ever meet.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

“Anyhow,” the doctor continued, “Fabre here has it in his head that you’re all some sort of magicians, he thinks you talk to something in these hills, he says he’s been watching you, and he knows a thing or two about the plants you grow in your garden.”

O shit…

“I’m not much for ghost stories but I am a chemical engineer.”

Double shit…

“…so, the officer and I are going to visit you out at the cove.”