Chapter the First, Wherein We Meet Our Hero
Chapter 1 Frightened of This Thing That I've Become
"The wild dog cry out in the night
As they grow restless
longing for some solitary company
I know that I must do what's right
Sure as Kilamanjaro rise like a memphis above the Serengeti
I seek to cure what's deep inside
Frightened of this thing that I've become..."
Toto - Africa
Rafael Moretti rubbed the side of his right thigh, trying to get the blood circulating so that when he changed planes he wouldn't make a complete spectacle out of himself. O'Hare airport had been bad enough when the courtesy attendant tried to have him to ride on one of the motorized wheel chairs to get him to his gate on time. He had finally convinced her, with a mix of snarl and flirt, that he needed the exercise so he wouldn't stiffen up.
The walk had had the opposite effect. He was secretly grateful to board the Boeing and take a load off. He was doubly glad that Kevin Kuntzler had booked a flight for him on the same plane all the way to Sioux Falls. He couldn't envision himself making that brisk walk from one of the big gates to the puddle jumper gates at the Minneapolis-St.Paul Airport. He had even less luck envisioning his luggage making that brisk trot and ending up on the same plan as him.
He cautiously flexed his leg in the limited room in front of his seat, Kevin hadn't wanted to cough up for first class, the tightwad. The flight was booked solid so he couldn't even sneak up into first class. Who the hell all was flying to Sioux Falls South Dakota for chrissake? Rafe knew the capacity of the plane was 230, he just couldn't imaging a whole planeful going to Soo-icks Falls.
Well, maybe it was flying elsewhere, like perhaps Denver after Sioux Falls. He wished he were. Instead he had a puddlejumper to look forward to. He HOPED it was a puddlejumper. The last stretch of the flight was chartered so he had no idea what he was flying in to Pittsville. Kevin hadn't wanted him taking chances with mixing driving and Percocet, even though Rafe had assured him that he could drive a couple hundred miles of empty state and county highways and not get into trouble.
He thought back to a few days before when Keven and he had been arguing about the details of the flight.
"Rafe, you know as well as I do, you're a trouble magnet."
"What the hell trouble could I attract in South Dakota, Kev? Of all the remote places on this planet..."
"Please do this for my nerves, Rafe. I can see it already, you're cruising down County Highway 5487..."
"Good God, they have that many county highways that they number them in the thousands?"
"Artistic license for what I'm painting for you. You'll be driving down County Highway 5296..."
"I thought you said it was 5487..."
"Will ya let me tell my story?"
"..."
"Anyway, there you are cruising down County Highway 6, cruise control in your rental set for about 95 mph. You're drowsy from the Percocet and have just come over the top of one of those rolling hills and at the bottom, not 50 yards away is a combine moving along at 30 mph. Whamo! No Rafe, No Hay, No Fun."
"Well, now that you put it that way, we certainly shouldn't stop the South Dakotans from making hay, it's probably all the entertainment they've had all year. By the way, since when do you cut hay when the snow's barely melted off the ground?"
"Artistic license, son, artistic license."
"How the hell did a schmoozer like you end up in the non-fiction newspaper business anyway?"
"A long tale for another time."
"Whatever. Okay. I'll FLY all the way to Pittland, South Dakota..."
"Pittsville."
"Yeah yeah, what was the name of their daily newspaper?"
"The Pittsville Evening Prairiedog."
"Kev, I don't even want to jump into that opening..."
"Don't then. The editor is an old school buddy of mine, Mara Pitts..."
"Lord, the town's named after her?"
A growl. "As I WAS saying, I've known Mara Pitts since we went to school together at Northwestern University..."
"Oooooh, A *Medill* Graduate. Why the hell did she end up in that eponymous town of hers?"
"I'll leave that story for Mara to tell you..."
"Was she your girlfriend, your "chere amie?"
"Rafe..."
"Yep, she was. You're setting me up with one of your cast offs... I *wish* you would quit doing that."
"Since when have I ever set you up with one of my cast... Dammit, Mara isn't, wasn't a cast-off. We parted on amicable terms, she's one of my best friends."
"Hmmm. Amicable. Does your wife know about this?"
"Yes, she does. I'm sure Mara and she had a good laugh at my expense when we went to Pittsville for vacation a couple of years ago..."
"You VACATIONED there??"
"Yes. It's a lovely little town..."
"Boss. Mr. Kuntzler. I need to break this to you. I think you left a few of your marbles in South Dakota if you think I'm going to have a grand old time 'vacationing' in Pittsville. Are you *trying* to drive me insane? The doctor told me I had to take a break from stressful situations and here you are sending me into one. I'm going to be bored to tears and I happen to find boredom stressful..."
Rafe snapped out of his reverie as the captain's voice came over the plane's announcement system, advising passengers to put "their trays into an upright and locked position." He snorted to himself. He'd been on so many flights that he could just about recite verbatim the takeoff, landing, and safety announcements made at each flight.
He pondered again for a moment, just exactly what he was going to be flying in between Sioux Falls and Pittsville. Probably somebody's damn crop duster. He smiled bitterly. 'Welcome to South Dakota, son, hope you don't mind while I take a small detour and lay down some insecticide on the corn...' or wheat or whatever the hell they grew in Scenic South Dakota.
How the hell had Kevin talked him into this abysmal trip? Oh yeah. Take time off now in South Dakota or take some time off now at a mental health "resort." All expenses paid, son. Shit, he knew he wasn't crazy, just...stressed. Anyone would be stressed from being shot at, especially when the gun was aimed at his head but deflected down and the bullet buried itself in his thigh instead.
Knowing when to give in, Rafael had chosen the less...'structured' vacation, figuring there had to be something going on in South Dakota... maybe some pretty prairie women. He smirked at that thought. Maybe some South Dakota lovely could teach him the finer points of 'riding barebacked...' That is if this "amicable" friend of Kevin's. Ms, or Mrs. Pitts or whatever didn't have him on too short a leash.
The plane touched down just then, bumping the ground a little roughly. Rafael started and flinched as he was snapped out of his pleasant daydream of Miss South Dakota entertaining him. His leg set up a protest, throbbing in time with the suddenly faster beat of his heart.
He clenched his teeth and waited for the plane to taxi to the gate. When the seatbelt light went off, he pulled his aluminum cane out from under the seat, gritted his teeth, and stood up.
"The wild dog cry out in the night
As they grow restless
longing for some solitary company
I know that I must do what's right
Sure as Kilamanjaro rise like a memphis above the Serengeti
I seek to cure what's deep inside
Frightened of this thing that I've become..."
Toto - Africa
Rafael Moretti rubbed the side of his right thigh, trying to get the blood circulating so that when he changed planes he wouldn't make a complete spectacle out of himself. O'Hare airport had been bad enough when the courtesy attendant tried to have him to ride on one of the motorized wheel chairs to get him to his gate on time. He had finally convinced her, with a mix of snarl and flirt, that he needed the exercise so he wouldn't stiffen up.
The walk had had the opposite effect. He was secretly grateful to board the Boeing and take a load off. He was doubly glad that Kevin Kuntzler had booked a flight for him on the same plane all the way to Sioux Falls. He couldn't envision himself making that brisk walk from one of the big gates to the puddle jumper gates at the Minneapolis-St.Paul Airport. He had even less luck envisioning his luggage making that brisk trot and ending up on the same plan as him.
He cautiously flexed his leg in the limited room in front of his seat, Kevin hadn't wanted to cough up for first class, the tightwad. The flight was booked solid so he couldn't even sneak up into first class. Who the hell all was flying to Sioux Falls South Dakota for chrissake? Rafe knew the capacity of the plane was 230, he just couldn't imaging a whole planeful going to Soo-icks Falls.
Well, maybe it was flying elsewhere, like perhaps Denver after Sioux Falls. He wished he were. Instead he had a puddlejumper to look forward to. He HOPED it was a puddlejumper. The last stretch of the flight was chartered so he had no idea what he was flying in to Pittsville. Kevin hadn't wanted him taking chances with mixing driving and Percocet, even though Rafe had assured him that he could drive a couple hundred miles of empty state and county highways and not get into trouble.
He thought back to a few days before when Keven and he had been arguing about the details of the flight.
"Rafe, you know as well as I do, you're a trouble magnet."
"What the hell trouble could I attract in South Dakota, Kev? Of all the remote places on this planet..."
"Please do this for my nerves, Rafe. I can see it already, you're cruising down County Highway 5487..."
"Good God, they have that many county highways that they number them in the thousands?"
"Artistic license for what I'm painting for you. You'll be driving down County Highway 5296..."
"I thought you said it was 5487..."
"Will ya let me tell my story?"
"..."
"Anyway, there you are cruising down County Highway 6, cruise control in your rental set for about 95 mph. You're drowsy from the Percocet and have just come over the top of one of those rolling hills and at the bottom, not 50 yards away is a combine moving along at 30 mph. Whamo! No Rafe, No Hay, No Fun."
"Well, now that you put it that way, we certainly shouldn't stop the South Dakotans from making hay, it's probably all the entertainment they've had all year. By the way, since when do you cut hay when the snow's barely melted off the ground?"
"Artistic license, son, artistic license."
"How the hell did a schmoozer like you end up in the non-fiction newspaper business anyway?"
"A long tale for another time."
"Whatever. Okay. I'll FLY all the way to Pittland, South Dakota..."
"Pittsville."
"Yeah yeah, what was the name of their daily newspaper?"
"The Pittsville Evening Prairiedog."
"Kev, I don't even want to jump into that opening..."
"Don't then. The editor is an old school buddy of mine, Mara Pitts..."
"Lord, the town's named after her?"
A growl. "As I WAS saying, I've known Mara Pitts since we went to school together at Northwestern University..."
"Oooooh, A *Medill* Graduate. Why the hell did she end up in that eponymous town of hers?"
"I'll leave that story for Mara to tell you..."
"Was she your girlfriend, your "chere amie?"
"Rafe..."
"Yep, she was. You're setting me up with one of your cast offs... I *wish* you would quit doing that."
"Since when have I ever set you up with one of my cast... Dammit, Mara isn't, wasn't a cast-off. We parted on amicable terms, she's one of my best friends."
"Hmmm. Amicable. Does your wife know about this?"
"Yes, she does. I'm sure Mara and she had a good laugh at my expense when we went to Pittsville for vacation a couple of years ago..."
"You VACATIONED there??"
"Yes. It's a lovely little town..."
"Boss. Mr. Kuntzler. I need to break this to you. I think you left a few of your marbles in South Dakota if you think I'm going to have a grand old time 'vacationing' in Pittsville. Are you *trying* to drive me insane? The doctor told me I had to take a break from stressful situations and here you are sending me into one. I'm going to be bored to tears and I happen to find boredom stressful..."
Rafe snapped out of his reverie as the captain's voice came over the plane's announcement system, advising passengers to put "their trays into an upright and locked position." He snorted to himself. He'd been on so many flights that he could just about recite verbatim the takeoff, landing, and safety announcements made at each flight.
He pondered again for a moment, just exactly what he was going to be flying in between Sioux Falls and Pittsville. Probably somebody's damn crop duster. He smiled bitterly. 'Welcome to South Dakota, son, hope you don't mind while I take a small detour and lay down some insecticide on the corn...' or wheat or whatever the hell they grew in Scenic South Dakota.
How the hell had Kevin talked him into this abysmal trip? Oh yeah. Take time off now in South Dakota or take some time off now at a mental health "resort." All expenses paid, son. Shit, he knew he wasn't crazy, just...stressed. Anyone would be stressed from being shot at, especially when the gun was aimed at his head but deflected down and the bullet buried itself in his thigh instead.
Knowing when to give in, Rafael had chosen the less...'structured' vacation, figuring there had to be something going on in South Dakota... maybe some pretty prairie women. He smirked at that thought. Maybe some South Dakota lovely could teach him the finer points of 'riding barebacked...' That is if this "amicable" friend of Kevin's. Ms, or Mrs. Pitts or whatever didn't have him on too short a leash.
The plane touched down just then, bumping the ground a little roughly. Rafael started and flinched as he was snapped out of his pleasant daydream of Miss South Dakota entertaining him. His leg set up a protest, throbbing in time with the suddenly faster beat of his heart.
He clenched his teeth and waited for the plane to taxi to the gate. When the seatbelt light went off, he pulled his aluminum cane out from under the seat, gritted his teeth, and stood up.
posted by Dace @ 1:04 AM
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