Stupid

To the reader: I've always known that lies are never good, even when done for the right reason. This little story shows what can happen when the truth is hidden by fabrications and lies.

Thanks to jo for editing.

There is no sex in this story.

This is fiction so, well, you know the routine. Enjoy.

********

"I've done a lot of stupid things in my life but this takes the cake!"

I remember that thought flashing through my mind that as I ran head long down the alley. Then I don't remember much else. Well, actually I do remember parts of it but most are not good.

I remember seeing the trash can lid coming at my face. I remember seeing some guy standing over with a knife in his hand. I remember seeing Cheryl's body on the ground next to me. I remember blood, lots and lots of blood. I remember an ambulance attendant looking into my eyes. Then I don't remember anything else.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Why I wasn't killed is beyond me. I've always been somewhat lucky, maybe that? I'm not very strong or young anymore, so I can't believe that had anything to do with it. Smart? Nah! So why am I lying in this hospital bed instead of the morgue?

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Wait a minute... Cheryl's body on the ground next to me... Cheryl? What about Cheryl? Where is she? Is she okay?

I fumbled around on the bed trying to find the nurse call button but it's almost impossible to press any button with both hands wrapped in bandages. Maybe I can yell for help.

"Hello..."

Nope that's not going to work either. I could barely hear me let alone someone down the hall. Got to try to find that stupid button.

"Ah Mr. Hoover, you're awake." The nurse walked in as I was twisting to use my elbow to press the call button. "How do you feel?"

Why do they always ask such stupid questions? I feel like I've been run through a meat grinder that how I feel.

"Would you like to sit up a bit, maybe some ice water?" I know why she sounds so damned cheerful and it's because she's not the one in this bed. She presses the button to raise my head up and the pain shoots through my body again.

"Nuf, stop, no, ow, OW..."

"Oops, sorry," she said stopping. "Did that hurt?"

Jesus H. Christ, do they teach them in nursing school to find the stupidest question possible in a situation and ask it?

I couldn't do anything but mumble incoherently. "Duh!"

She held a plastic cup with a bent straw toward my face. "Here, take a sip." I did but it was a major chore with two fat, clown-like lips. "Would you like the TV on? How about something to read? What can I get you?" Her plastic smile didn't do anything to brighten my mood.

"Cheryl," I said as loud and about as forcefully as a whimpering puppy.

"Ms. Scanlon? The woman they brought in here with you? I think she's still in ICU but I'll check and let you know. Now is there anything else I can do for you." She put the cup of water on the tray in front of me, out of reach of my two useless hands of course, and left.

She did have a nice looking backside though.

Now how do I get to that straw?

After a couple minutes of trying to use my mind to will the cup forward enough to get a sip, I heard a familiar voice at the door.

"Damn, I've seen some ugly bastards in my day but you might just be the ugliest."

The old gruff voice put a smile on my swollen lips and a pain in my neck as I turned to look at him.

"Fuck you!" I muttered.

"Fuck you back, Jack."

I looked across the room and saw my old friend leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed and his usual shit-eating grin.

Ron and I have known each other for almost 30 years. We went to school together, were in the Army together, I was his best man and he was mine, and we built and sold a company that made each of us rich enough that we don't need to work anymore if we don't want to. To look at us we were completely different men. He's a short, good looking, African American man with more muscles per square inch than was believed possible. Me, I'm a white-haired, old curmudgeon that looks like the old guy on the park bench feeding the pigeons. We're both pushing 60. Ron doesn't look a day over 40 and I look like I get the senior discount at bingo.

"What have you gotten yourself into this time?" Ron asked smugly.

"Uh, from what little I can remember, I think I was trying to relive our glory days, trying to be a hero again. Doesn't look too good does it?"

He walked over to the bed and lifted the sheet covering my body. "Well, you've still got your balls so I'd say you did about normal. The rest of it will heal, it always has before. I heard you took on four at a time in that alley. What were you thinking Jack? You're too old to be playing with the kiddies anymore. Three at a time maybe, but four is too much for you now. Find a good retirement home and start watching the blue-haired old ladies. That's more your speed."

"Again Ron, Fuck You!"

"Tough words for a man with both hands in casts and lips bigger than mine, and from what I hear enough stitches to make a quilt."

"Look Ron, can you do me a favor? Can you go find out about Cheryl? I just woke up a little while ago and they haven't been able to tell me shit about her. They said she was in ICU. Just go do what you do best and find out..."

"Way ahead of you buddy. She's fine. She's out of ICU and they transferred her to a room this morning. She looks better than you right now. But there was a stab wound that nicked her aorta and it was touch and go there for a while. I know the surgeon and he's a good man. He put her back together and she'll be fine in a few days. Maybe in a couple weeks she can push you around the park in your wheelchair."

Ah man that was a relief to hear. I relaxed back on the pillow and exhaled the tense breath I've been holding ever since I woke up. I've been in situations like this before but Cheryl doesn't know about such things, about how cruel the world really is. She's innocent and didn't deserve what she went through.

"Uh, Jack. Have you seen the news or read the newspaper this morning?" Ron asked quietly.

"No why?"

"Well I think you got your wish. According to the media you're a goddamned hero. They're calling you the 'Silver-haired Savior.' Lotta' bullshit if you ask me."

"Oh shit Ron. What did I do this time? I don't remember too much, probably another concussion."

"Well, according to channel 7 this morning, the police received a 911 call last night around 10 o'clock for an assault in the alley next to The Ruptured Duck and when they got there they found your body draped over Cheryl's and parts of four other men scattered all over the place. Three were dead Jack and the fourth isn't going to be walking anytime soon. You left your signature on one of them. A cop I know that saw the mess said that one of the bad guys had a knife sticking out of the top of his head. You always did that when somebody pissed you off. They said that if you hadn't been there then Cheryl wouldn't have made it. You did good Jack."

I turned away from Ron and did what I always did after something like this: I said a little prayer for the fallen. This time the dead were bad guys but that didn't matter. I did what I had to do, what I've been trained to do, and there are three less men in the world today. Good, bad, it doesn't matter. Dead is still dead and they deserve a little prayer for their immortal souls.

When I turned back a minute later Ron was closely watching me. "Good for you. That's the Jack I've always known."

We were silent for a time, just two old friends who didn't need to say anything to communicate.

Ron adjusted the curtain to let a little more light in and then turned to me. "What were you doing there that time of night?" He asked with a hint of worry in his voice.

I tried to sit up a bit more but the pain in my abdomen returned. "I went there to talk to Cheryl. I knew she closed The Duck at 9:30 and then walked the daily receipts to the bank down the street so I was waiting across the street when she closed up. I saw three men grab her as he walked past the alley and drag her into the dark. I called 911 as I ran across the street and down the alley. One guy was already pulling all the cash out of the bank bag and the other three were on top of her hitting her and pulling at her clothes. They shoved something in her mouth so she couldn't scream. The next thing I knew it was all arms and legs and assholes. From there on you probably know more than I do."

"No, I mean why were you there in the first place?"

I hesitated, waiting for the right words to form in my head. I looked down at my bandaged hands and then up to Ron. "I still love her Ron. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was and maybe explain things better this time. Maybe for once in my life tell her the truth."

"Man you know you can't tell anyone about the things we did, not even Cheryl. You signed that Intelligence Community Agreement for one thing. If any of the shit we did ever gets out it could compromise relations with a few countries and put some of our boys in jeopardy when they have to go back there. No man, don't even think about it."

"Goddamnit Ron, if you have a better suggestion I'd love to hear it. She's no security risk and you know it. And besides, if the Feds want to throw my tired old ass in jail, then there going to have one hell of a fight on their hands. What would the public think of their Silver-haired Savior going to jail? It's all bullshit anyway. I'm just going to tell her why I wasn't there for her all those times and let the chips fall as they may. I just hope she'll listen."

"Well man, you always were the charge ahead and kill the mother-fucker type anyway. If you need any backup with her just let me know, I'll be there to vouch for you and maybe take your tired ass to the hospital when she finishes with you. I do have a couple photos I'm not supposed to have from that time we were in Columbia. Maybe she'll believe that."

We both became silent remembering our operations over the years: Thinking about our friends that never made it home and the 'bad guys' that didn't either.

It all seemed like such a long time ago. It all seemed so important. It all destroyed my marriage. That I was going to fix, well, at least I was going to before four assholes decided to steal the daily receipts of Cheryl's restaurant. I told her to not walk to the bank night deposit box by herself, but did she listen? She didn't listen to me either when I made up stories about what I did on those extended periods away from home. She knew I was lying. But she got it all wrong when she accused me of having someone on the side. In all the years and in all the countries I was never once with another woman. I knew that the only woman I ever loved was at home waiting for me and I didn't want to screw that up. Instead I screwed it up by not telling her the truth. I didn't because I couldn't. But none of that matters now. All that matters is that I get her back and we grow old together. I've missed her these last months. I still love her more than anything.

"I'm going now," Ron said. "I'll be back in a couple days to rescue the nurses from your nasty ass. In the mean time, just take it easy and don't do anything foolish."

"Thanks man, with friends like you who needs the al-Qaeda."

********

I've been cooped up in this hospital room for too long now, three days. It's time for a little walk-about. I knew what room Cheryl was in and didn't think I'd be missed so I took my IV pole with me and after looking left and then right down the hall, scooted around the corner to the elevator. Maybe I should have left a note saying I went for a walk and would be back in a little while. Naw, let them send the bloodhounds. I got off on the 5th floor and tried to look like I belonged there. Yeah right, an old man wearing a bathrobe and slippers, dragging an IV pole behind him looks as inconspicuous as hell. But when I got to room 537 I froze. I didn't know what to do. It wasn't in the field training manual and I didn't have an intelligence report to say what to expect inside so I was at a quandary how to proceed. I just stood there hoping my ass wasn't showing.

"Come on in Jack," Cheryl said from the other side of the room divider.

How in the hell did she know I was there.

"Jack, I can see your reflection in the bathroom mirror, so come on in."

She's a smarter woman than I ever gave her credit for.

I walked past the unoccupied bed nearest the door and over to her bed next to the window. For someone who had been near death she looked heavenly to me. But then I'm prejudiced.

"Hi Cheryl, how are you doing?" I stopped beside the bed and looked at her feeling my heart skip a beat. Lying in the bed with her own IV drip was the woman I've been married to for 30 years. She is as beautiful now as the day I met her. Sure her hair is white now instead of the auburn of long ago, and there are more 'character lines' in her face then before, but every pore, every cell, every square centimeter of her is as wonderful as it was the day we said "I do."

"I hear I've got you to thank for saving my life," she said as she reached out and took my hand in hers. "The police told me what happened and even a reporter from the channel 7 news was in here to interview me, but when they told me who the Silver-haired Savior was I couldn't believe it. Jack, what in heaven's name possessed you to do something stupid like that? You could have been killed. And how could you do that to those men. They said there were three dead and you did it. What's going on Jack? Who are you, Rambo?"

"Babe, I'm not Rambo, I'm Jack Hoover, the man who you married and who loves you more than anything in the world. I did what they said on the news and I'm sorry that it had to go that far, but they wouldn't listen and were going to do things to you that I couldn't allow. I had to put a stop to it before you got hurt. What happened was their fault; I was just the instrument of their destruction. I would have done anything to save you. I don't care if it were five or ten men; they were not going to rape you, they were not going to hurt you in any way while I was there."

"Well how do you explain this little hole in my chest?"

I laughed at the completely ludicrous vision from that night. "That was you trying to be the hero. One of the men had a knife and was swinging it back and forth trying to cut my head off when you stepped in front of him yelling 'Get your fucking hands off of my husband.' That's when he lunged forward and you jumped back in front of me. Babe, you took the blade that was meant for me. You saved MY life. When you went down he stood there staring at me knowing he was going to be dead in just a few seconds. He was. I took the knife from him and shoved it right into his skull. The surprised expression on his face was one I've seen a lot of times before. Everybody see's me as a white-haired little old grandfather and that plays to my advantage. I'm not what I look like, I never have been. I'm sorry I never told you. If I did I could go to prison. I lied to you and deceived you for the entire time we've known each other and for that I'll forever be ashamed. Babe, I'm so, so sorry I lied. I'll tell you everything, every detail, every fact about every lie I ever told you. I won't hold anything back. I want you to know that there has never been another woman in my life but you and I want you back. I want to come home and be your husband again. Please forgive me and love me again."

She opened her mouth to say something but was rudely interrupted by a voice on the other side of the room divider. "Before you say anything else Jack I think we need to talk." The divider moved and out stepped a tall man wearing a dark suit.

Crap, the Feds I thought.

"What do you want, Elmo?"

"I just want you to reconsider what you just said," he said with not a hint of a smile. "Sorry, but I was listening in the whole time."

"Jack, who is this?" Cheryl said pointing to the man on the other side of her bed.

"This is Elmo Cray. He's my handler and contact with the Agency."

"Agency, what agency?" she said with a completely bewildered look on her beautiful face.

"That doesn't matter at the moment Ms. Scanlon, or should I say Mrs. Hoover? Right now Jack has to reconsider telling you about the work he's done for us. If he does then there could be repercussions. Think about it Jack."

"Elmo, I haven't done anything for you guy in five years and frankly don't give a flying shit what you say about repercussions. I'm going to do whatever I can to get my wife back and if that means telling her about a few of your little state secrets then so be it. Arrest me afterwards. I'll be happy rotting away in some prison cell knowing that my wife knows the truth. I lied to her for too many years Elmo, now it's time for the truth."

He just stood there with a sad, befuddled look on his face. He knew me better than just about any other man in the world except for Ron. It took a minute of silence for him to make up his mind. I knew that look. When he made up his mind on something there was no way of changing it. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen.

"Okay Jack. I can see that you've made up your mind. But before you go ahead and break the law I think we need to do this." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope, took out the papers inside and handed them to Cheryl.

"What's this?" she asked looking at the papers with fear in her eyes. "This isn't..."

"No ma'am," Elmo said chuckling. "You're not being served. This is a confidentially agreement stating in essence that whatever your husband says you will never repeat to anyone without the Agency's permission. You will be bound by the same confidentially that Jack is so cavalier in throwing away. But, if he's so determined to get you back by breaking the law then the least I can do is help him stay out of prison. Just sign and date at the bottom of the last page. Once it's notarized then we'll be all set."

She took the papers and read. After a few seconds her eyes got wide and her mouth dropped. She looked up at me with tons of questions behind her expression.

"Yeah, I signed one of those years ago," I said looking into her eyes. "That one piece of paper is the reason I couldn't tell you what I did, the reason I made up all those stupid lies."

"But Jack, this says CIA. Surely your not..."

"Yes ma'am he is," Elmo interrupted with his usual all business expression. "Jack and Ron and their company have been doing little odd jobs for us for over 20 years. Things you may have read about in the newspaper or seen on TV where they said 'unidentified American operatives' or some such thing. That was usually Jack and Ron. Here's a pen."

"Jack?" she said turning to me with that expression that I was in more trouble than I could imagine. It's great to see her face light up like that again, especially at me.

"Sorry babe. Just go ahead and sign the paper and then we can get on with our lives. Maybe, just maybe, Elmo and friends will get out of our hair long enough that we can take that trip to Fiji you always wanted. I've been there once. It's beautiful this time of year."

"No Jack, I didn't mean that. I mean, where are we going to get a notary?"

"Ahem, Judy?" Elmo said to the ceiling.

A very tall, extremely beautiful blond dressed in a nurse's uniform stepped around the partition holding a notary seal.

"Hi Judy," I said. "How are the kids?"

She smiled her heavenly smile and said with a very strong Aussie accent, "Good Jack. Deb started first grade this year and Kev is walking now. I'll tell Charles you said hello."

Cheryl was starting to look like a deer in headlights. "Jack?"

"Oh yeah, Cheryl this is Judy McDougal, Judy my wife Cheryl. Judy does all the work too complicated for Elmo here. Without her the world would be nothing but chaos."