CHAPTER 16

AMY AUTUMN

In the first few minutes talking with Destiny Knight-Storm, I knew that there was something special about her. It wasn’t just that she was physically beautiful to behold. Destiny had a twinkle, actually more like a light in her blue eyes, and love in her demeanor. Then after we talked for a couple hours, I was sure she was the real deal.

We bonded like sisters. But my first tiny pause was meeting her man. Destiny was like a real live Barbie doll. But Brock wasn’t quite like Ken. He was buff, big time buff, and handsome. But upon first impression, he seemed brutish and dangerous. I suppose he was, but once I got to know him a little, I knew it was on a righteous level. He was a protector, not even remotely a predator.

Brock, with his dark hair, three scars on the left side of his face, and pro wrestler build, was definitely the most imposing man I had ever met. But being on his side, he was a teddy bear. His light brown eyes were calm and kind. When he spoke, he was lighthearted and had a graceful strength that put me at ease. With the danger that loomed from my twisted sisters, I was grateful that he was in my corner.

But low and behold, I was foolish. Oh, I was smart enough to temporarily move in with Destiny and Brock. But I insisted on still working my waitress shifts. After all, wasn’t I safe out in public?

But going to work wasn’t what got me in trouble, at least the first time. It was venturing back to my sister Lexy’s place. When I hastily moved out, I had forgotten my grandmother’s wedding ring. It was hidden in my old bedroom. On the nights Lexy worked as an exotic dancer, she was almost never home before one am. It was the almost that got me in big trouble.

After moving in with B and D, Destiny insisted that I call her when I arrived at work, and again before I left for their place after work. Both she and Brock had tried to persuade me to let him escort me to and from the restaurant where I was employed. But I talked them out of it. The compromise we made was the phone calls.

Dee brooded over me like a mother hen. This was both annoying and immensely satisfying. You see, I didn’t have much mothering growing up. My biological mother was, forgive me, a dead beat drug addict. My father, a career military man, was killed in Iraq. So I was mostly raised by his parents. But my grandmother died when I still in lower grade school. So the key figure in my parenting was my grandpa.

So being fussed over by an older female was quite gratifying. Even if the age difference was only ten years. Yet, on the other hand, I was still a teenager who wanted her space. I was a teenager who had an air of invincibility. I was a teenager suffering from immaturity, even though I was often complimented when I growing up for advanced maturity.

Yet, if I hadn’t done this foolish thing, I probably never would have met the love of my life. Plus, it’s an interesting explanation when someone asks how Dirk and I met. ‘Oh, why we met when I was laying naked in the grass about to be gang raped by four drunk men. Isn’t that how every girl meets the guy of her dreams?’

This is how the nightmare got started.

“Hi, Amy. Are you on your way home?” Destiny’s soothing voice had said into my ear.

“Hi, Dee,” I replied and then winced. “Sort of.”

“What do you mean, sort of’?”

I told Destiny about my grandmother’s ring and my plan to retrieve it.

“Sweetie, that’s not a good idea,” Destiny insisted. “Brock’s here. Come home and let him go with you.”

“Dee, I’ll be fine, and I don’t have time,” I protested. “I know right where the ring is, so I’ll be in and out in under a minute.”

“I want an ETA right down to that minute,” Destiny demanded. “Plus, I’m gonna have Brock at least head that way and meet you. Pastor Samson will be with him.”

“Is Pastor Samson there, too?” I asked, referring to the former army chaplain affectionately known as Captain Kirk.

 “He is.”

“Great! He and his wife are such nice people. They were in for supper at the beginning of my shift today. Would you believe they gave me a thirty percent tip!”

“I would, they are very generous people.”

I chewed nervously on my lower lip as I drove my twelve-year-old Ford Focus up to my sister’s house. Finding it dark, I eased my car against the curb and parked. The extra house key I had kept worked. I quickly went to my former room, located the ring which was hidden high up in a closet, and prepared to flee.

When I exited my former room, I was startled to see the living room lights come on. There stood Sexy Lexy with her hands on her hips and her dark brown eyes angrily blazing at me. Her thick black hair framed her face, falling over her shoulders. She was accompanied by four rough, burly men who looked like construction workers.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Lexy asked, flipping her hair from her front shoulders to her back.

“I, um, forgot something,” I stammered.

“Did you now?” Lexy asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as a wicked smile across her face.

Lexy said something in a low tone to the four guys and they all gazed hungrily at me. Two of them smiled mischievously, one raised his eyebrows and nodded, and the forth looked me up and down with a cold, blank expression.

“Back in the room, honey,” Lexy ordered as she pointed at the bedroom door.

I fled toward the kitchen and the back door. My hands trembled so much that I couldn’t get the door open in time. A strong, vice-like grip attached itself to my arm. I was dragged back to my former bedroom by the coldest, hardest looking guy as the other three followed him. Sexy Lexy closed the door and wished her male companions a good time. Panic surged through me like it never had before in my life.

The small room immediately filled with the smells of alcohol, tobacco, and sweat. The men ordered me to undress, but I refused. I was still wearing my waitress uniform. It was a white button-up blouse, a brown knee-length skirt, and brown and white saddle shoes. The meanest looking guy yanked hard on my blouse and buttons clacked as they hit the floor. Another thug pulled on my skirt and the sound of fabric ripping seemed to echo in the tiny room. Another man was fumbling with my bra when I had a miraculous moment of calm and clarity. A plan came suddenly to my mind.

“I’ll get it,” I ordered with strange authority. “We might as well make this as pleasant as possible. By the way, do you guys have condoms?”

“You get pregnant honey, that’s your problem,” the meanest one said.

“Alright, but I was talking about STD’s.”

“Once again, that’s your problem,” the meanest one said. “I’m going first. The other fella’s give you an STD, like I said, that’s your problem.”

“I was talking about you all,” I shrugged. “I haven’t had a chance to go to the doctor, and I’m pretty sure I have something.”

The meanest guy stared daggers at me. “Lex said you’re a virgin.”

“Okay,” I shrugged. “If that’s what she wants you to think, whatever.”

“I think you’re lying, but even if you’re not, you’re worth it,” said the mean one. Then as he moved toward me, followed by the others, he demanded. “Now, let’s get your clothes off.”

“Stop,” I barked. Surprisingly, they did. “I’ll do it myself.”

I began to remove my bra, causing the drunk, aroused men to go still as they leered. I had a plan, and it was my only chance. It was a pleasant night in mid-September and all of the windows in the house were open. Suddenly, I dove at the lone window in the bedroom. The screen burst from the window frame ahead of me as I sailed through. Now, the race was on!

LET’S HEAR FROM A HERO

DIRK EASTON

I was waking from the worst nightmare I had ever had. I dreamt that I was jogging late at night when I happened upon a young lady about to be gang raped between a couple of vacant houses. Three guys held down the squirming female form, while a fourth pulled down his pants and positioned himself in front of her. The next thing I knew, my legs were churning and I was slamming my forearm into the exposed fellow’s face. There was a sharp crack as facial bones broke.

The other guys were on me immediately, punching and kicking, and then I saw the glint of a knife blade right before it descended upon me. Before it penetrated my chest, I was saved by a guy that appeared like the Joker from Batman. Only this Joker’s hair wasn’t green. It glowed a light blue and pale yellow as I glimpsed him in the moonlight. There was a sinister, unnatural grin curling up from the left side of his mouth. That’s why he reminded me of the Joker. He took out the other three guys like a large Jackie Chan. Then a slender Santa Claus face loomed over mine, asking if I was all right. What a bizarre dream.

Santa was the last thing I remembered before I woke up to the sound of low voices. I was so relieved to wake up and get back to reality. This nightmare was so real that my head and ribs actually hurt. Bad. I was disoriented as I tried to peel my eyes open. It didn’t seem like my own bedroom. It was more like a doctor’s office or hospital room.

“He’s awake,” a female voice whispered.

Slender Santa from the dream hovered over me again, smiling. I jolted and then winced with pain. My head throbbed. Santa’s face was joined by the Joker’s, who turned out to be a very handsome dark haired man, despite a sinister-looking scar that twisted up from the left side of his mouth, giving the appearance of a ghoulish smile as he frowned down at me. He also had a two-inch scar from his cheek to his ear and another jagged scar by his temple. Then he grinned, and he didn’t look quite so menacing anymore.

“How are you feeling, son?” Slender Santa asked.

“My head hurts something fierce,” I replied, wincing some more.

A drop-dead gorgeous woman with golden, honey colored hair joined the two men at my bedside. First I saw the Joker and now Harley Quinn. How weird, I felt awake, but apparently I was dreaming about the movie The Suicide Squad!

“We should call the nurse,” the blonde beauty said.

“Right, Dee,” Scar Face said as he pushed a button, causing a voice to come through an intercom speaker.

“The patient’s awake,” Scar Face said. “He says he’s in pain.”

“I’ll get a doctor and be right in,” the intercom voice declared.

“Are you Harley Quinn?” I mumbled, looking at the stunning female. “But you don’t look very evil.”

“What?” she asked with arched eyebrows as she leaned toward me.

“You know, you do bare a remarkable resemblance to Margot Robbie,” Scar Face said to the lady he had called Dee.

“I’ve been told that before, you know that,” she said. “But who’s Harley Quinn?”

“Harley Quinn is a character that Margot Robbie plays in a movie,” Scar Face said. “I’ll explain later.”

“This is the most real, vivid dream I’ve ever had,” I slurred as my vision blurred.

Harley Quinn grinned down at me, and my blurry vision made her mouth seem large. Her teeth looked cartoonish, like big piano keys, and I started to laugh. But then a splitting pain in my head removed the humor instantaneously.

“It’s no dream, son,” Slender Santa said. “You’re a hero. A big hero!”

I looked at Scar Face, who nodded in agreement. Maybe this wasn’t a dream, or rather a nightmare? I really did charge and slam into a rapist? I really did get the excrement kicked out of me before this Joker man handled the other three?

“But,” I protested, feebly pointing at Scar Face, “didn’t you beat up the other three?”

“The thing is,” Scar Face said glancing at Santa and then back to me, “I was a block away when I noticed you jogging in my direction. Then I saw you stop and appear to crane your neck. Then I witnessed you charging between two abandoned houses. When I saw you doing that, I ran toward you and found you being pummeled. If I hadn’t seen you taking action, and if you hadn’t intervened, the girl I was looking for would have been brutally raped – maybe even killed. You stopped it just in the nick of time. Do you understand that?”

“So how is she, then?” I asked as I recalled her long reddish blonde hair splayed across the grass. Then I remembered a split second of her frightened eyes and mine locking before I was tackled.

“I’m fine,” a sweet female voice said just above a whisper as a fourth person appeared at my bedside.

She wasn’t quite the stunning knockout like Harley Quinn’s twin, but she was possibly even more beautiful, in a subtle way. Her big, exotic eyes were almond shaped. One eye was blue and the other was green. The green eye had black and blue surrounding it. Her long, red-gold hair was in a ponytail that draped over her left shoulder. She had a light sprinkling of freckles on her nose, was a bit taller than average, and was well-proportioned. Her upper lip was plump and discolored from being hit. She had a rather tough presence for somebody who also seemed so cute and young. The girl introduced herself as Amy Autumn.

A nurse entered my room with a doctor on her heels. With a flutter of his white coat, the middle-aged doctor seemed to be imitating Kramer from the TV show Seinfeld. He hurriedly poked and prodded me, and shined a light in my eyes. Then he made me say “ah” as he stuck a tongue depressor into my mouth.

“Coming along fine,” he declared. “How do you feel?”

“Like Anthony Rizzo tried to hit a home run with my head,” I replied.

“Ah, a Cubs fan,” the doctor said. “You know, you do look a bit like Kris Bryant.”

“I can live with that. Then how about I feel like Kris Bryant tried to hit a home run with my head.”

“They’re doing pretty good,” said the doctor.

“This could be the year,” I said about a half dozen weeks before the Cubs won the World Series.

“Ah, yes,” he said patting my leg. “We’ve heard that before now, haven’t we? Seriously though, you took some pretty hard blows to the head. That’s why we kept you overnight. I think we should keep you at least one more night and go from there.”

The Kramer lookalike murmured something to the nurse before he left the room. Then she put something in my I.V. from a syringe and moments later my pain rapidly decreased.

“Dr. Dusseldorf’s a Cardinals fan,” the nurse explained.

“I see,” I mumbled.

The nurse left and I began to feel blissful, yet tired. Slender Santa was telling me something about the police wanting to talk to me and asking me questions about how I happened upon the scene. I recall opening my mouth and trying to answer, but my eyelids were so heavy I couldn’t keep them open anymore.

Three days later, I sat in blessed solitude in my humble, one-bedroom apartment in downtown Cedar Rapids. I was somewhat of a loner and quite content with that. So all of the medical attention, police questions, and news reporters had worn me out. I had just breathed a sigh of relief that I’d gone a few hours without human contact when there was a knock at my door.

Was it the police or reporters? I tiptoed to the door. If it was the police, I would probably need to talk to them yet again. If it was reporters, I intended to blow them off. But it was Amy Autmn! I had only seen her that one day in the hospital. I peeked one more time out of the peep hole right as she knocked again. Her eyes seemed to stare into my lone eye, so I was sure she noticed the peep hole darken. I reluctantly opened the door.

I meant to say “hi” or “hello,” but I just kind of grunted and ran a hand through my hair. Pretty girls always had a way of tying up my tongue, and Amy Autumn was even prettier than I remembered from the other day. Her banged up faced had healed some.

“Hi, Dirk,” she said quickly. I noticed she was clutching a brown paper sack tightly. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

Out of embarrassment due to my shy ways, I almost lied and told her that she did wake me. But I tried to live an obedient life to God, despite currently floundering with my faith. This struggle was mostly due to the suicide of the only girl I had ever loved three years previous, a circumstance that rattled my belief and trust in God to the core of my being.

Amy wore a light blue shirt with a yellow smiley face on it. She also had on a denim skirt, and pink Chuck Taylor sneakers on her feet. She somehow pulled off sexy while still appearing nerdy and wholesome.

“No, no,” I replied. “I’m still a little out of it from the whack to my head. Come in, come in.” I sometimes repeated myself when nervous. I think it was a subconscious effort to make it appear that I say more than I do.

Amy stepped inside and glanced around. There wasn’t much to see. I had an old brown sofa and one lime green chair. I had a card table for a kitchen table with two folding chairs pushed up to it. I still hadn’t hung any pictures, even though I had lived there for six months. Amy looked like she was trying to find something to say about the apartment, but there wasn’t much to say. Undecorated or adorned in any way, it wasn’t cozy, and the old off-white paint made the walls look dirty.

“I like the old woodwork,” she finally said with a satisfied smile. The old trim around the doors and windows was the only decent thing about my shabby apartment.

“Thanks,” I replied and then groped for something else to say. ‘Why are you here?’ seemed rude, but that was the predominant thought on my flustered brain.

“I just wanted to stop by and thank you again,” Amy told me. “You seemed pretty out of it in the hospital. I didn’t know if you would remember talking to me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t forget you,” I said emphatically and then stiffened.

The blows to my head must have done something to me. I typically would have simply nodded or maybe replied with one word. She shrugged as she giggled, crinkling her small, freckled nose.

“Oh, I brought you some double-chocolate muffins,” Amy said as she offered me the sack she held. “Do you like chocolate?”

“I love chocolate,” I told her as I opened the bag and sniffed the fresh-baked aroma. “Did you make these?”

“No, I got them from work,” she said. “I’m a waitress at Mrs. G’s Family Restaurant.”

“Have a seat, have a seat,” I told her as I waved a hand at the sofa.

She sat and some springs groaned slightly within the bowels of the couch. I pulled a muffin out of the sack and handed it to her. She thanked me.

“No,” I replied, “thank you. Do you want a glass of milk?”

“Maybe a small one,” she answered.

After I returned from the kitchen with the milk, I sat across from Amy in my ugly lime green chair.

“How are you feeling?” Amy asked.

“Much better than three days ago,” I said, trying to smile.

“But you’re still in considerable pain?”

I shrugged. “It gets a little better every day. The doctor gave me some pretty good pain pills.”

Amy bit her lower lip, and her exotic eyes welled with tears. I stopped my muffin halfway to my mouth as I took in the sight. A tear spilled onto her cheek, and she held her muffin on one knee as she dug a tissue out of her pocket. I needed a coffee table.

“What’s wrong, Amy?” I asked as I rose and sat next to her on the couch.  “I’m doing fine, I’m doing fine. Don’t worry about me!”

Amy began to quiver, and then a sob burst forth from her mouth like air vomit. I instinctively put an arm around her shoulders, then immediately thought better of it and was going to pull away when she laid her head on my shoulder. I froze but began to relax when the fragrance of her hair, still-damp from a shower, hit me. It made me think of a flowery meadow after rain.

I vowed that after Angie’s death, I would never give my heart to someone again. I felt it would be better to live life lonely than to experience heartbreak like that again. But sitting next to Amy with my arm around her and her silky hair tickling my nose, I recalled how nice it was to be close to someone of the opposite sex.

I would simply enjoy this little moment in time. Odds were I would never save a damsel in distress again, at least not in such a dramatic situation. I mean how often does that happen? Once she left my humble abode, we likely would never see each other again. So I sniffed deeply at her hair one more time. I closed my eyes and pictured us walking hand in hand in a flowery meadow. It was early Autmn, just like her name, as the sun shined happily down upon us.