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-peace

“Ja-ames? Ji-jimmy?” the weight of his father’s voice sounded both shrill and joyous while somehow wrapped in disbelieving hope.

“Yeah Dad, it’s me!” James yelled into the receiver. Plugging his open ear with a finger in order to block out the hustle and speed of the people and cars around him.

“Well how are you boy?!? Hold on, your Ma is in the barn-” he could hear his father’s breath start to hold as his dad began to pull the phone away.

“Nah, we don’t have that kind of time.” James took a deep breath. He listened as the phone was brought back up to his Dad’s mouth. Then James’ father spoke directly.

“Ok son, ok. So how are you? No, where are you? State side?” 

“I wish I was Pa, I wish I was. But no I’m still over here. The Japs are pushing into Burma, hitting the Chinese pretty hard. So we are makin’ a push back.”

James felt his father’s smile, as it stretched his Dad’s bearded cheek. The bristles scraped against the cut microphone holes on the handset of the old black rotary.

“Well, alright then.” Was all that was said. James could hear the pride that was in his father’s statement. It was a small thing, only a few words. But the respect they housed threatened to surround and overwhelm the solider, as he stood there in the dripping humid heat. 

“You getting the money I’m sending back?” James inquired. Flying as a “volunteer” for the AVG, he earned ruffly seven hundred dollars a month. That was more than some men earned in an entire year. And he sent most every cent back to his folks.

“Yup, me and your ma are gettin’ the money. The farm is almost paid for thanks to you son. Lets see those bastards at the bank try to take her away from us now”. His Dad chuckled as he spoke and rightly so. It had only been a few years back when it looked liked they would lose their farm. The Depression hit every one pretty hard. But some how, they held on. And now, if the family was diligent, they would not only keep the land, but actually own it. 

“Listen Dad, I don’t think this call will hold for too long” the popping was growing ever constant causing James to speak even louder. “I wanted to let you know that I volunteered for something-” his voice echoed down the halls of the communication line. And James suddenly realized that he could very well be jailed just by saying this much. So he cautiously looked around, making sure that no one important was about. “I wish I didn’t have to, but no one else raised their hand-”

With sudden worry and fear his father interrupted. “What do you mean volunteered for something? I thought Roosevelt ok’d you to quit the Navy, and you volunteered for the Tigers. How can you volunteer for something twice?

“No Pa, this is a different!” James hollered. Trying as hard as possible to route the conversation towards the topic that needed to be shared.

“Well are you in trouble? You need me to come over and kick Chennault’s ass?” Having flown with Commander Chennault in the first world war, James’ Father was only half joking while issuing this threat. His Father’s friendship was the primary reason that James’ had got the job in the first place. And it was exactly these same connections that now put James’ life in a very tumultuous place.

“Woud-ya just listen to me?” James practically screamed. “This is important!” The tone of his voice summoned his father to silence. “I was sitting there with the other fellas, getting briefed, when the Commander up and asked for a volunteer.” James could still see the map clearly as Commander Chennault used his pointing apparatus to outline the route of the perilous mission. Then indicating where all the potential enemy units were likely to be. Even going on to say, that despite the fact success would mean the lives of many innocent people, he wouldn’t fault a single one of them for not stepping forward.

 “After hearing what he had to say, I thought to myself ‘What would my old man do?’” James continued.

Subconsciously subverting where this trail of words was headed,  James’ Father said. “Now hold on a minute. You and I both know that we ain’t always of the same mind.” 

Frustration building, James’ voice drew to an edge. “Yeah, thats probably true. But not now, not this time. And seeing as how you raised me an all, I think that I might just have a God-damn good idea about what you’d be thinkin’.” He could feel his father’s jaw slam shut. His profanity some how reaching out and acoustically slapping the older man.  It wasn’t what James intended, it never was. But the history was deep, and they both had a tempestuous streak. So these sorts of things always seemed to happen.

“Listen to me Pa, you just gotta trust me. Cause I know you would do this. And do you know how I’m sure?” Not really waiting for an answer, James continued. “Well because you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you didn’t.“ 

There was an eternity in those words, floating on weighted seconds. Silence covered them both as they recognized the magnitude of the conversation. The type of exchange that moved oceans and eroded mountains. So father and son clutched their respective phones, each waiting for the other to speak.

“I hear you boy” his father finally said in a whisper. Weak from being unable to protect. James sensed that somehow his Dad had just imparted a fraction of his farmed out soul. A soul that belonged back there amidst the Nebraska clay. Free to blow in the wind with the grass covered hillside that carried and swayed like the waves of the sea.

Then something was said and James knew that his Pa understood. 

“You do what you have to-” began his Father , whose drawl slowed with sincerity  and purpose “-and just remember, your mother and I lo-” 

But a click suddenly occurred, separating and cutting. The conversation ended, yet the meaning would hopefully remain. James wanted it to be so, for his parent’s sake.

A flickering lone light, with a frayed string for a switch, illuminated the small room as it hung fastened to the ceiling. Worn shoes littered the floor. Clothing draped upon old metal hangers coated in dust and rot. Garments that held nothing of value for their former wearers, yet still acted as food for the moths. There were boxes stacked about whose contents held things of the past. Years were written along the sides, ordaining them with swift black sharpie. The undead thing reached down and pulled the top from one of the boxes; revealing a small black tablet inside; the kind that school children used in combination with chalk.

Picking up the tablet, the creature took its boney, filed down finger and began to etch and scribe. The screeching was far worse than human nails on a black board. And even after all this time, the girl still shuddered and clenched her teeth when she heard it. Once finished, the animated remains flipped the tablet around so that the girl could see.

“Truth?” she read. Sighing as she said it.

“No. At one time that may have been possible, but not now. Not ever.” The somberness that trailed along with her explanation was proof that she indeed believed what she said.

A knuckled finger came up as the corporeal entity scratched its head, obviously thinking while it stood. After a moment, it reached over and used the sleeve of a hanging coat to erase the board. The cloth held barely enough integrity to remove the markings before eventually disintegrating. Beginning again, the being wrote and marked the tablet. Turning the board to face the girl, it shrugged its shoulders as it revealed the newly written word.

 “Why?” the girl breathed the word as she spoke what was written. It was such small word, but was now wrapped in painfully apparent complexity.

 “Come on Endo, we have been over this.”

There was affection surrounded in sadness as she spoke. In the beginning, when they had first met, she used the nickname all the time. But as the years wore on, and the bizarre turned into the normal, the moniker had faded. The girl could not remember the last time she had used it.

“I understand. You want out. But if I do as you ask, how will I ever be loved? Who will have me should they know you exist?” The shakiness in her voice seemed to cause the creature to hang its head. Lacking muscle, its skull swung back and forth on an unsupported neck, vertebral column clicking while it did. Finally, reaching out, the undead being patted the girl’s hand in comprehension. For it had always acted with compassion and never anger.

Removing the hand, the entity’s attention once again returned to the writing tablet. This time it took much longer to scrawl what it desired. As it made harsh movements with its finger on the surface. When finished, the undead being glanced at the girl and then down at the board, repeating this several times. Looking very uncertain as to whether it should allow her to read what was written. Finally, it slowly pivoted a corner, and swung the board around so that she could see.

On the tablet’s face, the girl noticed that the prior question had been crossed out. Below it, there were four shaky words.

“Want. Life. Please. Free.”

The girl’s eyes could be seen filling as she read them. And for a time it appeared that they may indeed spill. But they didn’t. Instead, the ocular tide pools eventually receded and a vacant compassion returned.

“I am sorry Endo. It can never be. Don’t hate me. Not you.”

It was the girls turn to reach out then. She stroked the side of the creature’s jaunty face with a lover’s affection. Exactly where the flesh of the cheek used to be and could be again, were its wish granted. To be freed and given life renewed. But, as they both had found, secrets age differently than humans. And bones were now the only thing that was left.

“Please, would you-“ she sputtered.“Could you still-“ continuing with a choke.“Can you do this for me?” she finally managed to ask.

Even without lips, the undead being’s jaw lifted ever so slightly. The girl knew that it was offering a toothy smile. So she smiled, leaned forward, and kissed the beautifully hideous thing’s forehead. Then, pulling her lips away and removing her hand, she reached up and grabbed the string. Jerking directly downward so as to break the circuit and cut the power to the bulb. Darkness descended and then surrounded the creature. All except for the slivers of light that wrapped themselves around the girl’s silhouette standing solemnly in the doorway.

The former corpse gave a haunting wave while it stood waiting. But the girl did not return it. For the closing ceremony had already concluded. And with the remaining light fading, she closed the closet door, and allowed the vacuum black to once again envelope her skeleton.