Night Blind (The Technicians #11)

Chapter 5 - Educate

A quiet evening at home on a Friday night meant a movie for Naomi with popcorn, drinks from hand-squeezed lemons mixed with lemon-lime soda, and at least two peanut butter cookies. If there was time, a family game of cards or an age-appropriate board game ensued, usually leading to Naomi winning at least one hand. Her story time came early tonight since she was rather tired from helping her Aunt Helen move the cut pieces of wood to the pile for the winter supply of heat. Proud of herself, Naomi waited to be tucked in and provided the proper number of kisses to her rosy cheeks before saying goodnight.

After, Helen spoke softly, taking note of behaviors in Mr. Slow with his daughter. The patience he showed and allowing the child to win a game as well as lose several others to bring her balance was noted. Helen had questions.

“You’re very good with her,” Helen commented. “Did you major in child psychology?”

“No, I am a criminologist,” he replied, “and my focus is on criminal and criminal behavior. I am a specialist.”

“Oh,” Helen said, looking at her cousin, who didn’t seem surprised. “And the working with Naomi, is that your natural parenting instincts based on your parents?”

The conversation she wanted to have been long overdue for them all. He was reluctant to have the talk but now was as good of time as any to clear the air to help them both understand. In his dating life, he had never reached a point of divulging the family business, and he honestly never expected to share his life with anyone who needed to know all the details. These two women did, and in the end, or at the end of his spiel, he expected the same from them.

“My father, Uncle Joe, and Samuel Johnson all grew up together and went to the same church, which was pastored by Reverend Robert Johnson, who was Samuel’s father, and we called him Uncle Sammy,” Slow said, rising to make himself a hot cider. “Uncle Sammy had, or rather is succeeded by his son Brody, who lives in Pennsylvania now, and a daughter Elsa, who lives in Florida.”

Helen leaned forward in the seat, her eyes darting occasionally to her cousin, who had no facial expression to what he was telling them were tidbits of information that would be relevant to them at some point. She’d learned that about Slow. He only provided enough information to connect two points. The straight line in between the points, he walked with careful steps.

“Uncle Sammy, when he became pastor, took over the Summer Camps for foster kids, and during those summers, me, Rebecca, Zeke, Gabe, Bleu, Brody, and Elsa, became camp counselors,” he said. “Some of those kids weren’t right, and could never be right, and others, well, could be trained.”

He said the last part, looking at Cherry. His gaze then went to Helen. “We learned, through our summer camp program, that there were Christian settlements in Ohio and Kentucky that were less than legit. Many of those camps were breeding grounds for cults, which of course preyed on young girls and single mothers. In the back of all of our minds, we have a soft spot for single moms because we know what is out there.”

His eyes again went to Helen. “We understood, better than most, many times, a mother would sacrifice a daughter to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table.”

Cherry dropped her head, not wanting to make eye contact with her husband or her cousin. Slow had more to say, and when the time came for her to speak, she would, but until she was asked or prompted, she had nothing to contribute to his lesson and attempt to educate them on very important details.

“Some of those kids, Gabriel was able to help,” Slow said. “You see, he saw patterns in the behaviors of the cults, what they looked for in members, and accurately predicted where the next cells would pop up. He gained the attention of The Company in Langley, who offered him the world. In exchange, they paid for his education. He has a ThD in Divinity.”

Helen frowned, trying to understand where Slow was going with this. She opened her mouth, only to be halted by Cherry, who placed her finger to her lips. Helen knew this meant to stay quiet.

“Although he is ordained, his skillsets proved useful in infiltrating another organization out of Chicago, also called The Company, lowercase letters for the title, run by Michael Kurtzwilde,” he said. “From that company, Gabriel was also recruited by the Cavalcade of Angels, giving him a source of income from many streams that he used to create his own specialized team.”

Slow returned to the couch, intentionally sitting away from Cherry, facing both his wife and her cousin. He sighed deeply, wanting to stop, but knowing he needed to continue. Helen needed to understand and Cherry was owed his back story. Until now, she had no idea how he’d become a Technician nor why. The why was as important as the job itself.

“With the backing of the government, plus funding to clean the cobwebs and balance the books from Uncle Sam’s Summer Houses, several of those kids who came through that summer camp were sent to college on the government’s dime,” Slow said, “and in return, they went to work for The Company.”

Cherry spoke, “Do I know any of these students?”

“Yes,” he said, pointing to himself. “One Way, Wrong Way, Mr. Merge, and Falling Rocks. Reverend Johnson’s son is Mr. Yield. The Mann is Kurtzwilde’s son, and Mr. Exit was the brother-in-law of The Glitter Man, a monster he inadvertently made while trying to protect his sister.”

“And like wow,” Cherry said, leaning forward.

“Stop and Hump belonged to Kurtzwilde, as well as Exit, who was sent to The Company by The Archangel; however, Hump worked more for Beauty, who in turn, tried to sell her to The Collector once she began adding up pieces that didn’t fit,” he said, looking at Helen. “It fell through. Hump is not only deadly, she is a bit mentally left of center but loyal and trustworthy. Beauty is dead, courtesy of a favor called in by Hump via a South American Drug Czar known as a Viper, and don’t ask. She called in the favor owed to her by a deadly Viper whom I think had dinner here at this table with me, Yield, and The Archangel. All I know is, a few days later, Beauty was dead. The Collector, at losing his chance at claiming Hump as his Black Doll, somehow happened upon Shenita and collected her instead.”

Helen leaned forward. “Shenita got away from him,” she said, referring to her former self in the third person.

“Shenita is still with him,” Slow corrected. “The thing the Archangel understands more than most is the nature of people. Working with those kids in the summertime, he, as well as most of us, learned that without purpose, the patterns of behavior continue. Women who are sexually abused choose men who treat them the same way. Poor people, even when given money, splurge on stupid shit because they expect every blessing to be taken away, not understanding the need to break the cycle.”

“Is that what you’re doing, Michael Isaac Neary, helping us break the cycle?” Helen asked her tongue in her cheek.

“I don’t know, Helen; have we broken the cycle?” he asked, also leaning forward, his hands resting on his knees. “Have we broken the cycle of the scared woman always afraid to fight, to speak up, fight back, stand up against the bully? Or did The Collector see in you what others saw and wanted to dominate and control you with simple acts of oppressive aggression?”

Helen popped to her feet. Slow had hit a nerve, and she wasn’t going to stand for it. It infuriated her to no end how he dared make such a sweeping generalization. He didn’t know her. He didn’t know her story or anything about her life.

“You don’t know me! I did fight! I fought that bastard, and I got free. I’m going back to save those women, and I fought that fucker!”

Slow bound to his feet, slamming down the mug, and took three steps towards Helen, his chest puffed up, his fists balled into meaty hammers of punishment, and she shrank. She shrank back into the chair and nearly curled into a ball. The child inside the woman still ached with loneliness and fear. The innocence was taken from her in the middle of the night and then used as a weapon against her she wore upon her chest like a badge. He could see it. Men could see it and almost smell the fear inside of her. The adult woman smelled of the need to be loved. She reeked of the desire to be needed and cherished for whatever modicum of affection doled out. Twice, she’d asked him what she feared, yet also secretly wanted. He wasn’t that kind of man. He stood over her, intimidating the woman.

Cherry was also on her feet; a weapon, he knew she had in the couch remained nestled between the pillows, but she was prepared to use her body as a shield between her husband and her cousin. Her eyes were wide with anger, daring him to make a move toward Helen, and in one move, she would reach between the pillows, if need be, to bring the dog to her heel, but Slow changed the tactic on her.

Michael Neary dropped to his knees in front of Helen. The fisted hands came together as if he were about to pray. His eyes were on his wife.

“This cycle stops now,” he told them both. “Helen will learn to protect herself and walk through this world like a woman of purpose. Abigail will no longer have to put her life on hold to serve as a protector for her cousin because in less than three months Helen is going to be a badass, not scared or shrinking in the presence of a man with more power over her. Sit up, Helen. The time of cowering is over.”

He got to his feet, collected his mug, and bid them goodnight. Helen was no longer balled up in the chair, but her eyes were focused on her cousin. She knew the look. The look scared the shit out of her.

Tears welled in her eyes as she asked the question, “If he’d touched me, Abi, would you have?”

“More than likely, yes,” Abi said, looking at Helen, and the moment of doubt flickered in her eyes. The same concerns she had, her cousin also worried about. They never talked about any of the things that brought them to this point. More than likely, they never would.

“Don’t worry. I asked him straight up if he had any intentions of fucking me,” Helen said to Abi, who snapped her head around. “He said no. He is happy with you and doesn’t plan to ruin his family, besides, he told me he didn’t think I was that cute.”

“Helen, if he makes a move…”

“He’s not going to, Abi. He loves you and his daughter. He loves coming home to his family,” Helen said. She paused. “Do you think he knows?”

“Of course, he knows, you twit! He was testing me to see if I would draw down on him over you, and he knows I will in a heartbeat,” Cherry replied.

“Then he must also know you killed a man to protect me,” Helen said.

“Probably,” she answered. “I’m tired. Sleep in the guest room tonight. I have a bad feeling, and I think he does as well, which is why he’s changing tactics on you.”

“Abi?”

“Yes, Helen?”

“This is your time and your life. I won’t mess this up for you,” she said, wishing her cousin goodnight.

“Abi, don’t mess this up for yourself either,” Helen said softly, looking at the backdoor. She didn’t need to stay in their home; she had her own.

Helen set the alarm on the cabin, easing out of the back door and walking in the darkness to where she now called her sanctuary. He was right; the time for cowering was over. She’d fought back against The Collector and gotten free. Now, she had to work on getting free of the other Bogeymen and demons who haunted her sleep at night, like Smiley Robertson.

****

2002,

Smiley Robertson was a good-looking man, with a wide smile, dancing eyes, and lascivious nature. Shenita’s mother Anita loved the man and saw no wrong in him, at least until she noticed the way he looked at her daughter. Already having lost Shenita’s father to her sister Stephanie, she wasn’t about to lose another man to her daughter. Stephanie had run off with her husband, leaving her daughter Abigail for Anita to take care of and making her go from a single mother of one to a single mother of two very pretty young ladies far more attractive than Anita, and she resented both girls for it. She resented the way Smiley looked at Shenita. For Cherry, the idea was ludicrous considering Smiley was a forty-something-year-old man and Shenita a fourteen-year-old child who still played with Barbie dolls.

No one was dumb. Smiley was never left alone with either of the girls, and Cherry made sure to stay close to Shenita, even sharing a bed with her on the nights Smiley stayed over. It wasn’t enough.

The man lied. He told Anita he’d be out of town for the weekend, and everyone relaxed. As much as Cherry tried to warn her Aunt about allowing a snake in the chicken coop, she never tried to protect her chicks.

He must have been watching the house.

Smiley saw when Anita left to go and play cards with her friends on Friday night.

Smiley must have been watching the house and waited for Cherry to leave to go the market for a Pepsi and a pack of peanuts. It was something she snuck off to do, and tonight, she didn’t take Shenita with her because she must have planned to hang out a bit after with her friends.

Smiley must have been watching the house.

The moment both Anita and Cherry departed the home, Smiley Robertson let himself inside. In the twenty minutes, Cherry was away, he did enough damage to ruin Shenita’s life; therefore, Cherry had no qualms about taking his. The two switch blades she carried at all times were in her pocket when she came through the back door and heard the scream. She heard the open-handed slap. She heard her cousin’s cries, the pleas, the wails from the pain.

He must have been watching the house when she left. He must have been watching the house and waiting for his opportunity. He wouldn’t hurt anyone else ever again. Cherry used the blades to cut him wide, to cut him deep, and to watch him bleed as she yanked his nude body from her aunt’s bed. She wrapped his throat in Aunt Anita’s favorite satin sheets she put on the full-sized mattress when Smiley came over on Thursday nights to make her aunt moan like a whore. She placed the sheets on the bed where Smiley was hurting Shenita. He would hurt her in this bed, dare her to tell, then come back, smelling her scent in the covers while he relived the fantasy in his sick head. He even had the nerve to pull out the special sheets for his time with Shenita. These were the same sheets Cherry wrapped around his waist to cover his nakedness.

When the police arrived, Cherry simply told them, “He must have been watching the house.”

Aunt Anita never openly said she hated Cherry, but she did. Aunt Anita never openly said she resented her daughter, but she did. Aunt Anita never denied them the little they received, but Shenita’s medical bills from the damage Smiley did to her bankrupted Aunt Anita.

The crappy house with the two hundred dollar-a-month mortgage was no more, and Aunt Anita resorted to placing the next apartment in Shenita’s name, along with credit cards and utility bills. At the age of 18, Shenita’s credit had been ruined.

Cherry, at the age of 18, joined the military. Already on the radar of The Company for taking care of Smiley, a small-time pimp who was trying to become a major player, they considered Cherry an asset, and she had received specialized training to work for her government. The special training came with a housing allowance that afforded her the ability to bring her cousin to live with her.

She saved every dime she could. They lived poorly, drawing no attention to themselves. The plan was to do ten years and retire to the mountains to live a simple life off the grid. All was going to plan until the call came in for a job in Mexico. A few Homeland Security agents were taken by the Cartel, and Cherry and a few others were sent in to bring the agents home. She came home from Mexico, changed inside from what she’d seen. She was changed by three days and nights with a man whom she’d known casually but spent the weekend getting to know him intimately. Michael Isaac Neary changed her life.

Now, Cherry, a married woman with a child, needed to change once more. He was right. She couldn’t spend her entire life looking after her cousin. Helen needed to charge up, level up, and become a badass. She could shoot and work a knife; Cherry taught her those things. She would leave it up to her husband to show Helen how to hone the skillsets to become a weapon.

She entered the bedroom quietly, pulling back the covers to slide in next to him. The warmth she sought he provided by pulling her close. There were words she wanted to share with him, but he silenced Cherry with a brief, but hot kiss.

“When I said my arms were wide and my shoulders strong enough to carry the weight, it is what I meant,” he said to her.

“I can carry my own weight,” she said, moving closer.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to anymore,” he said, kissing her again. “Neither of you do. I want you both to understand what it is like to be loved by men who only want the best for you.”

“Men?”

“Yes, the Neary men,” he said. “You are our family. We love and protect the women in our lives. I shall love and protect you all.”

“It’s the love thing that makes me worry,” she whispered. “I have every right to be doubtful.”

“I am who you believe in your heart that I am,” he said, “I have nothing further to say on it. She’s your sister, which makes her my sister. Good night.”

She held onto him for nearly 30 minutes before drifting fitfully into an uneasy sleep. She could feel the weight of something horrible hanging over their heads. It was coming. She had no way to prepare for the unknown. Then suddenly, in a moment of clarity, Cherry got it. Her husband had explained that from childhood he’d been taught to see and understand the needs of others. He’d been taught to provide care and guidance. Michael Isaac Neary had degrees in criminology and he understood the criminal mind.

Her husband was also a trained assassin.

He was prepared.

Slow was always prepared. Cherry simply wished for once in her life, she could be as well, instead of being reactive. Helen was correct, this was a chance for something better. She didn’t want to mess it up.