The Curse

Sean stepped out of the light and into Nowhere. The airlock of Nowhere was hotter than the bright outdoors since there was no breeze through the open window except when the door was open. He heard Truth barking. He didn't sense anything wrong when he finally stepped from the airlock into the speakeasy proper. Why was the dog barking? Sean was certain a local was teasing him again with some bacon. Probably Earl. As soon as the dim cool interior of Nowhere wrapped around him he could sense a wrongness before his eyes could fully adjust.

A man was holding a broken brown bottle to the throat of an older man.Truth was snarling at the man, hackles fully up. He looked menacing. If Sean would have encountered this dog he never would have agreed to adopt him. Then he recognized the older man as his former father-in-law, Gene. The younger man was waiting for Sean to become aware before addressing him. "No closer!" he yelled over the dog, his voice cracking with strain. Leon was still behind the bar, Asleep At The Wheel was oblivious on the speakers, but there was nobody else in the bar. If there were any locals when this lit off, they must have slipped out the rear. Truth was vibrating with threat. The man appeared to not notice.

Sean nodded and then noticed an old woman at the table next to the dart board. It was a bad place to sit on the weekends, but for a Tuesday afternoon it was as good as any other spot. The woman was only showing the whites of her eyes and her breathing was rapid. She was saying something that Sean couldn't make out.

The man holding the bottle yelled at Gene "I'll ask you again, old man: what did you do to her?" Sean turned his attention away from the woman to the man holding the broken bottle again. A young man in profile, to Sean he appeared to be in his thirties. Dark hair, medium build, a soft middle, raging blue eyes, veins straining in his neck and arms as he held Gene's wrist in one hand and the bottle in the other. Sean recognized the form as an obvious office worker - soft in the middle. Not a typical tough. Definately not from "these parts" as the locals like to say.

Gene shook his head almost impercepibly as he answered "Nothin'! I told you. I walked in and y'all were sitting there at the table. Well, you weren't. You musta been in the head. I didn't take no mind I just sat at the bar. Next thing I know, you're hollerin' and she looks like that. Then you attack me." Gene's voice was relaxed, still speaking in a casual tone, dropping his pronunciation, keeping his tone low and even.

"You said something, you old bastard! Undo it or I'll end you here. Your Americans polize will say it was self-defense. I don't care" He had an accent Sean had heard before watching Hogan's Heroes and The Dirty Dozen. He had clearly said "polize". The man's tone was agitated and his voice was getting higher and he was starting to shriek. Sean couldn't see it in the darkness of Nowhere, but a spot of blood was blooming at the point where the bottle was held against Gene's skin. The younger man was devolving to hysterics. Sean was shocked when Gene spoke to the young man calmly in German.

Sean was ready to act, he had brought in the ice with him and was going to hit the man with it if he could swing it without the bottle driving into Gene's jugglar. The young man recognized his native tongue. He looked to the old woman, her breathing becoming ragged. She was mumbling something. It was obvious now to Sean that the young man and Gene could understand her. Sean wondered if Leon could understand her too. Was he the only person in the bar who couldn't understand her?

The young man still looked angry, but then shocked, then he accepted what Gene had said as the truth. He still hadn't lowered the glass weapon. The old woman had come to while no one noticed and spoke calmly in response to whatever Gene had said. Her voice starting in a low contralto before rising with a vehemence. Spittle left her mouth as she stood up, a bony finger pointed to the blossom of blood on Gene's throat which was now clearly visible. She was biting off words, punctuating each one with a point of her finger. The young man appeared astonished, his jaw went slack. He lowered the broken bottle.

As soon as he lowered it Sean swung the bag of ice and hit the man square in the chest with a whoof. The surprise was likely compounded by the shock he was already feeling brought on by the old woman's words. He fell to the ground. But bags of ice are not made for high impact. Ice skittered across the cool flagstone floor. Leon jumped the bar and came to rest on the man. He put his knee on the man's chest and had the Louisville Slugger across his throat. The man struggled, grasping the bat with both hands, but Leon had leverage and practice on his side.

Gene rubbed his throat to erase the blood like a man who had spent years cutting himself while shaving. It would take more than a dab of tp to stem the bleeding.

The woman grabbed a gem of ice off the floor, stared intently at it, then dabbed it behind her ears then sat back down. Of all the weird things that had happened in the last few minutes, this would stand out to Sean later. She raised her eyes to the young man and politely asked "Please, would you let him up? He'll cause no more trouble. We'll be going now."

"The hell you say!" Leon was jazzed. Used to handling roughs, figured an old woman and a soft tourist was nothing. A warm up.

Sean smiled and interceded. "Pardon me ma'am. Before we let the young man up, could you please inform me as to what is going on? I'm the owner of this establishment and I'm inclined to call the police based on the behavior of your young freind here"

It was the old lady's turn to smile. It was forced, but a semblance of civility was starting to reform in the dank bar. "My apologies Herr Walker. My son was simply reacting to my distressed state. Surely you can understand that" The last was a clearly a question though her litling accent confused Sean temporarily. When he didn't speak, she continued. "Besides, I don't know much about America, but I don't think you want to involve the police any more than we do."

It was an illegal speakeasy. She was right, Sean did not want to involve the police. That was more of a bluff but how did she know? That bluff usually works on most tourists in Sean's experience.

Wait, how did she know his name?

"They're gypsy's just trying to get out of paying the tab, Sean!" Leon was still hyped up. But his theory held water, Sean had seen a small portion of his profits vanish via the various "dine and dash" schemes. This one seemed a little too elaborate.

"Hold on, Leon." Sean meant shut up, his upheld hand without even looking at him made that clear. Sean's eyes never left the old woman. Her crystal blue eys met his. Bloodshot whites due to a recent stressor, but the same clear blue was evident now on her son. She might be telling some sort of truth. But not enough of it.

"Yes, you caught us! We'll gladly pay and tip and be on our way please" a forced laugh tried to imply that they were found out. Sean wasn't buying.

"We'll be glad to ring you up..." she started for her handbag and glanced at the bat across her son's throat. Leon wasn't letting up. "as soon as you tell me what is really going on. No bullshit" Sean finished. Using an impolite word in public might pull back the curtain a bit and let her know that he knew that wasn't the truth.

"Just that, what your employee said, we were trying to save money in our travel across your country" her eyes indicated she was trying to mean it. Trying to convice him it was true by trying to believe it herself. Sean looked again at the "son". Cream colored linen slacks, loafers, probably Italian. No socks. Sean cringed. Collared white silk short sleeve shirt buttoned up only enough to be comfortable. White undershirt and gold chain with some symbol Sean didn't recognize. Sean looked back at the old woman. Small tastefully exposed grey in her hair, the rest was professionally maintained. Similar silk button up short sleeve shirt, but black and a feminine cut. Probably the same designer. Her skirt was a summer fabric, probably linen, but tailored to not just be a dufflebag. Tasteful black pumps. No socks, but hose. These were uppper Middle class at worst. They were well off. This place was a dump to them.

"In a hurry? Are you on an agenda? Plane to catch?"

"No" She had wanted to say "nein", but continued "Why do you ask, Herr Walker?" using his name again. Still formal.

"The sheriff is one of our best customers. We'll just hold you all here until he can get here. Might be a while this time of day."

She stared at Sean. Then glanced at Leon. Her son was no match physically for Leon and he had given up the only advantage he had when he lowered the jagged makeshift weapon. She slowly raised her gaze back to Sean who was waiting. She splayed her hands wide in capitulation. She sighed. "Dah, okay"

"Let him up, Leon"

"You sure, boss?"

"Yes, we have this nice lady's word that she'll tell us the truth then settle up and leave peacefully. Isn't that right, Ms?" Sean left it open as a societal way of having her interject her surname.

"Mrs. Mrs. Helena Schwarzwald. And yes, that is correct. Please call me Helena" she smiled again. She didn't force it this time, but it wasn't much of a prettier sight. There was malice behind gritted teeth.

"Well, Mrs. Schwarzwald. Please come to my office so we can speak privately. Would like something to drink?"

"No! She's not leaving my sight" the son was on his feet and able to speak without a piece of maple on his throat. He had started to calm down, but was now escalating again. Sean could see that he was naturally high strung and would be a handleful.

"I assure you, young Mister Schwarzwald, that no harm will come to your mother while she is in my care." Sean smiled, dismissing the man and sweeping his arm in a motion that both turned his back on the son and pointed the direction of his office. She started moving appropriately.

"I'm sorry, I must insist." the young man would not be seperated from his mama. Sean considered this.

"Gene, you do you have your pistol on you?"

"Sure, Sean. You know I do" Gene looked at the young stranger with a smirk then handed a small Sig Sauer to Sean who palmed it appreciately. Much of the show was for the younger man's benefit. A show that was meant to clearly state that "you never had a chance, boy". Sean turned to him.

"Okay, Mr. Schwarzwald. Please join us, but I'll ask you not to speak unless spoken to. Also, understand this weapon is only for my protection based on the only behaviour I've witnessed you displaying. I mean neither of you any harm, but I am a man that has to understand things. Comprende'?" Sean wasn't sure if the man knew Spanish or not, he didn't care. He was tired and it wasn't even 2 o'clock.

The man nodded his understanding and stepped in front of Sean and placed a protective hand on the small of his mother's back and they walked together towards Sean's office. Sean glanced to Leon and Gene. They both shrugged, palms up. Leon moved to get the broom. "Gene, can you call Amy and ask her to bring out some ice? We'll need it for tonight." He didn't want to ask his ex-wife for any more favors than he had to, but this appeared to be Gene's mess he was cleaning up, he figured Gene's daughter could help out.

Sean closed the door and walked around his desk and placed the gun on the desktop. He wanted to sit, but first he invited his guests to sit. There was only a secondhand couch against the back wall. They both sat in unison, the woman deftly sweeping her skirt under her legs as she sat. A finishing school education, maybe?

"I appreciate your discretion, Herr Walker. Speaking of this in front of that animal is simply intolerable."

Sean decided to remain standing.

"My apologies, Mrs. Schwarzwald. That is no way to speak of people. At least not in my country. Some people around here may think that way, but not me. Some of my closest friends are black. I simply didn't want to have this dicussion in the bar as folks are tending to knock off for the day and I wanted the bar open for normal business. I assure you that anything you have to say could be said in front of Leon."

She looked puzzled, then she understood. "Oh it is me that must apologize, Mister Walker." Sean noted that she didn't quite sound so German now. "I wasn't referring to your employee, but the patron. The old man. He is an animal and I would advise you to throw him out and never transact with him again. He is the lowest of human scum and if I were younger I would take that weapon from you and put him down like a rabid dog. The justice of ending him with his own weapon would only be a small solice." She was trembling and tearful. Angry.

Sean was confused again. "Gene?" Gene was his father-in-law, business partner, and had become a good friend in the last three years since opening Nowhere. But if this woman was having that sort of hatred towards a man she had never met, Sean thought it best to tread lightly. He wouldn't divulge the nature of his and Gene's relationship, especially to someone who was clearly off her rocker.

She was nodding. "Yes. The one you call Gene is actually named Hans. I'll never forget his face. Even after all of these years. He is evil incarnate. The cruelest of human. Inhuman really. I've dreamt of this day, but now I am too old to bring justice."

"What are you talking about Mother?" the son had turned on the couch towards his mother. It seemed that he noticed that she was going coo-koo, too. Sean wondered if this was a new development.

"I'm sorry Peyter. I'll explain later." tears were trembling down her cheeks.

"No ma'am, I'm afraid you'll tell me now." Sean was getting more irratated the weirder this got.

She was shaking her head, "Sorry Mr. Walker. I can tell you some things, but much of this is family history and not of your concern. I must insist. I agreed to tell you the truth, but I did not agree to tell you our family history. Nor our family secrets." Sean held her gaze keenly. He noted Peyter glancing from his mother to him and back again. Poor Peyter had no idea what was going on. He certainly was the weaker personaility in the room. Sean gave a slight nod.

"Good." She turned her head towards her son, "As I said, Peyter, I'll tell you what you need to know back at the house." She turned her head back towards Sean and stiffened her shoulders.

"Now, Mr. Walker..."

"Please call me Sean"

She smiled a genuine smile. She had probably never been a pretty woman, but a real smile does wonders for your appearance no matter what. Sean smiled politely back.

"As I started earlier, Mr. Walker, the man you call Gene is actually a man named Hans Schmidt. He killed my father. Raped my mother, tried to rape me. Instead he threw me in a prison and starved me almost to death. He tortured and starved my brother to death." Her hands were folded neatly on her lap. They were trembling, she tried to control them by grasping each hand in the other. Her shoulders were advancing from trembling to violently shaking. Peyter's mouth was slack.

Sean shook his head. "No ma'am. I'm sorry that happened to you, but that is simply not possible. I know Gene. I've known him for over twenty years. That is not the same man, I assure you."

"I believe you, Mr. Walker. But either everything you said before "but" or after was a lie. You're lying to yourself as I see that you actually believe this. It's understandable. It's your friend. It's hard to imagine friends doing monsterous things. Atrocities. Dah, understandable, but that makes it no less true."

Sean could see that she wasn't to be reasoned with. He saw no gain in it either. Time to cut bait. "Okay, Mrs. Schwarzwald. Thank you for that. I can see that we will not agree on this point. It also explains why you reacted the way you did when seeing Gene. Leon has your tab at the bar. If you'll excuse me I'll grab Gene and we'll make ourselves scarce while you and Peyter settle up and leave." Sean thought this best to just wrap it up. Sure he was the kind that needed answers. Needed to understand, but he was also of a vintage that had gained the wisdom to understand that some things were beyond his understanding. Or in this case, made no actual sense. So since fishin was over, the line was tangled, it was time to cut bait.

Her eyes shifted focus towards the shelf behind Sean. "Ah, there it is." Sean took this to mean that she had caught on that he thought she was not in touch with reality. Had he been that transparent. Being in the Ozarks had certainly taken off some of the city polish. Or maybe she simply understood her obligation was over and they could leave.

"May I examine the rock behind you?" What she had really meant was that she had traveled all of this distance to see a rock in Sean's possesion. Now she had found it and the day's events leading up to this had receded to the background. Her focus was now on the rock Sean had found when building Nowhere.

Sean followed her stare. He had thought briefly the weirdness was over. He was so close to getting rid of her. He had dealt with mental illness enough to know you got to stay on your toes. He had gotten soft out here in the Ozarks. Cocooned in his little world he'd built. She parried as he thought she was conceeding victory in their little verbal spar.

Sean considered the rock. It was interesting enough to keep, but not valuable in Sean's estimation. The ground around where they had leveled for the metal building that would become Nowhere was littered with pebbles of similar nature. Those were swept away for flagstone. This largest chunk found it's way to his office. He liked having it around. That was also a strange phenomenon as Sean didn't have any attachment to "things". But this rock was different.

He saw no harm in her examining it, if it meant that in doing so would get her out of here quicker, he was all for it. He'd let some of The 20 see it. Hold it. Examine it. Nothing bad had happened.

"Sure. May I ask why your interest?" Sean handed Mrs. Schwarzwald the rock.

Her eyes glowed. So did Peyter's. They were rapt. The familar light shone from the stone as she held it. The rock was mostly solid. Parts of it looked like solid granite, parts of it looked like some sort of cement or something man made. But other parts of it, the parts that Sean had thought of as facets, were semi-transparent and seemed to reflect light. At least that is what Sean thought when he first found it. That is also what he tells The 20 when they handle the rock. But deep down Sean knew, the light is coming from the stone.

Now it was glowing a yellow hue that caused Sean's guest's eyes to turn green. They sat there entranced by the stone with green eyes. Sean thought of Gollum from the Tolkien books. Mrs.Schwarzwald looked like a gollum with green eyes.