The Benefactor Read online

  Zeke walked with him from the gate to the house. “Always glad to have you, Marsh. Must be tough cooking for yourself all the time.”

  Marsh recognized the probe and dodged it, “Oh, I get by. Hard to compete with Karen’s cooking, you know. Learn anything from the Benefactor?” He expected a negative.

  Zeke: “As a matter of fact, I have had a telephone conversation with her. I’d say the voice is from somewhere mid-continent. Definitely not from the high line of Montana and not from New York City.”

  Marsh pushed his Stetson back to 45 degrees and rubbed his forehead. “Wow, you did good man! Her, that’s a new wrinkle in the old gray matter. Who’d guess?”

  After explaining how he finagled a reply from the Benefactor, Zeke continued, “I don’t think Keala was too surprised about the Benefactor being female. For the record, you two are the only ones who know. I trust you and her. I’m not so sure about me.”

  Marsh let the humor pass him by. “Let’s keep it that way for now. Under even normal conditions, most groups are on the edge of riot. Under the strained conditions since the new year, I know it’s worse. So you used the old WIIFM, what’s in it for me, to lure her in?”

  “That’s pretty much it, Marsh. I’ve asked for a virtual face-to-face. Hopefully, tomorrow I’ll learn more from her.”

  “Did you tell her what a good job I’m doing?” Marsh was proud of this joke, knowing small talk was not his forte. He kept it running.

  “She said next time she’d like everything you do faster, better, and cheaper. And by the way, she added, ‘What has he done for me lately?’” Zeke kept a straight face.

  “Maybe I should be talking to her, Zeke.” Marsh slapped Zeke on the shoulder. “You got this rabble under control, or am I going to need this?” He rested his hand on his .44 magnum sidearm.

  “No riots today, Marsh, but we haven’t started lunch yet. The only fights around here so far are for more food.”

  “The two of us are in a pretty good mood for a post-apocalyptic world!” Marsh saved his smile for something better.

  *****

  After lunch but before the two hours of electricity, Marsh pulled Zeke aside. “I enjoyed that, partner. I have some unfinished business. I know I said I was going to dispose of Meagan’s body. It is still frozen. If it hasn’t been one thing, it’s been another, keeping me from getting her burial done with honor. This afternoon, I’m free. For someone like her, it’s a big deal to me.

  “I really thought a Viking-like ceremony on the Bitterroot River would be the right thing to do. Given that so many people are using that water for drinking these days, I’ve ruled that out. I’m leaning toward a funeral pyre, Native American style, somewhere that won’t draw too much attention. I’m going to ask your group to spare you from afternoon chores, if you're agreeable.”

  No one had a problem with Zeke’s pending absence. Without electricity, everyone had jealously watched to make sure everyone else did his or her fair share of chores. With some electricity, the increased efficiency of the household loosened everyone up.

  Marsh and Zeke rode to a site out of view from the valley. They chopped trees for the construction of the scaffold. They gathered dry wood to ensure the fire was hot enough. They accumulated twice the kindling and fire-starter material needed to ensure no half measure. Then the pair rolled away boulders surrounding Meagan’s frozen, shrouded body to hoist it onto the result of their handiwork — appropriately primitive.

  Before Marsh lit the flame, he put a hand on Zeke’s shoulder. “I know you worry about her last moments, her last thoughts. Trust me that she felt a blissful liberation beyond anything you can imagine. How do I know? I had, not one, but three different buddies miraculously survive sure death in Afghanistan. Every one of them independently described a supernatural release from all care and concern. They said it was beyond ecstasy. She was definitely at peace.”

  Zeke nodded in understanding. Even if Marsh was being a little creative with his lessons from Afghanistan, Zeke appreciated the kind reassurance about Meagan’s state of mind. He knew the cliche about funerals being for the living was a profound truth.

  Both spoke words in Meagan’s honor. The ritual had given Zeke some inner peace. While he had not consciously dwelled on the tragedy, he realized his subconscious had been in turmoil. The closure was good for him.

  The two threw snow on the remaining embers and ashes. Finally, they used entrenching tools to cap the site with old snow. It was sunset before the fire was out.

  Unseen in the woods above them, Jenny wiped away tears before they could freeze on her cheeks.

  Marsh and Zeke rode back to the Denton Ranch with night vision goggles. They were about to part at the gate.

  “Marsh, you probably know I started out angry at you for taking her body away. Of course, I was angry about everything at that time. Now, I want to thank you for what you did. I especially want to thank you for today …”

  “Listen here, Zeke. You're welcome. I miss Meagan, too. They don’t make many like her. She was special!” Marsh couldn’t handle any more sentimentality, “One more thing,” he paused, “if the Benefactor calls you tomorrow, be sure to put in a good word for me.”

  Zeke smiled, “You got it, Marsh!”

  *****

  That night in the privacy of their bedroom, Keala asked, “Zeke, how did it go today?”

  “Great,” Zeke answered.

  Keala: “I just wondered. You seem distant. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No, I’m good. Good ceremony,” Zeke said. He knew each had stepped into stereotypical roles: silent man, talking woman. And he realized Keala was also aware of that.

  “Tell me about it, Zeke.” She wanted to add airily, “You’re not turning into a curt Marsh on me, are you?” But she decided not to say it. She realized Zeke was on tenterhooks.

  As Zeke went through the details matter-of-factly, tears streamed down his face.

  “Let it out, Zeke. It’s natural to grieve for someone you cared about and lost. Don’t worry, it doesn’t diminish you, me, or us.” Keala knew she was doing what was right, but she did feel a stabbing jealousy over whatever Zeke felt for the legendary Meagan. Meagan was an amorphous force she couldn’t compete against. “It’s healthy to get that out of your system so that you can get on with your life.” She felt better about those words because they were totally true. He will be better off, she thought. And the two of us will be better off.

  Zeke wrapped his arms around Keala, “What would I do without you? You’re my angel!”

  Well, almost, Zeke, she thought. I try. “I love you, Zeke!” Keala felt good about comforting Zeke. At the same time, she felt ongoing guilt over her primal jealousy; more so, because she knew everyone considered her above such base emotions.

  *****

  Milt was coming onto another nightshift to attend the redhead.

  Karen briefed him. “She’s been moaning a lot more than usual. Kept wanting to sleep facedown and flat. She’s pretty persistent. I’ve tried to keep her on her back with her head elevated, the way you told us. Other than that, I just put a new log on the fire outside and new ice in the pot. Good luck. I’m going back to bed. I feel like I’m sinking.”

  As the redheaded patient tried to shift down the couch and roll prone, Milt dutifully repositioned her. The desired position lasted thirty minutes, then he had to correct her position again. He went outside to stoke the fire, put more ice in the big pot on the grate, and brought in hot water and coffee. Once more he had to fight the redhead trying to move. He thought, Julia is as dogged asleep as she was in court. Bitch! His bile kept the unintentional thought-word play from his consciousness.

  Suddenly, Julia’s eyes opened. She sat up. “Where am I?” These were her first coherent words at Denton.

  Milt purposely gave a slow explanation followed by, “Just take a small sip of water for now. We’ll have you do a lot of small sips until I judge you can drink. Then I’m going to get you some warm soup. If
you need to urinate or have a stool, let me know. Later I’ll help you get up and do some walking around the living room. You really need to do that for your recovery.”

  “Who are you?” she asked with hesitation.

  Milt looked intently at her. He waited, looking for signs she recognized him. He thought there might have been a flicker of recognition in her pupils. “I’m Milt. I’m the in-house medic.”

  Julia spoke slowly, “I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

  Even in the low light from the fireplace, he could tell she was pale from just sitting up. When her color returned, she stretched out both arms asking for help getting up. Milt embraced her and did most of the lifting. She definitely needed his help. Standing on her own, she fell into his catching arms as low blood pressure made her faint.

  Milt was always surprised by how weighty relaxed human flesh was. If Julia was 110 pounds, she felt like 220.

  Still upright in his arms, she recovered slowly. “Thanks, I guess I wasn’t as ready as I thought.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” He helped her to a nearby bedpan. “Miss, I’ll look away for your privacy. Call out if you need me.”

  When she finished, he asked, “Think you can make a small turn around this big room with my help?”

  “I think I can, slowly … with your help,” she said. “I’m having trouble with words.”

  “Let’s sit you down for a few minutes before you try that.” Milt judged her wan appearance meant she was about to faint again. “Slow and easy for the next few days!

  During that two-hour shift, Julia made three laps around the living room. As Milt was about to go off shift, he figured it was time. He asked the recumbent patient, “Do you know who you are?”

  “Yes, I’m … Julia Hawkins. I’m a … I’m a lawyer.”

  Seated in a heavy oak dining chair next to the couch, Milt could not find a glimmer of recognition in her eyes. “Well, Julia, you’ve made a big step in your recovery tonight. I need to wake up Anne. It’s her shift next.”

  Julia grabbed his hand. “Please stay. I need you here. You know what you’re doing.” Then she looked as if she were falling asleep. Every time he tried to leave, she squeezed Milt's hand that she held even though her eyes were closed.

  Milt reflected: If she’s faking, she’s very good. He had learned from the best, or worst, in jail. Inmates had lied about everything, he remembered. But with Julia, he didn’t detect any con, except perhaps that initial flicker in her eyes.

  January 21

  As the waves of morning sunshine spilled over the mountain reefs surrounding the Bitterroot Valley, everyone at Denton was waking up. Although the house was well insulated, a keen ear could hear muffled rustling as the residents began to stir.

  In their bedroom, spritely Keala whispered, “Zeke, you were all over the bed last night. Nightmares?”

  “I’d say interesting, recurring bad dreams.”

  “So Mr. Internal, do I have to pry it out of you? What were the dreams?”

  Zeke sighed, “An upperclassman at NMMI, my old military school in Roswell, kept destroying the spit shine on my shoes. That’s one. In the other, I was trying to dial in ILS frequencies on a pilot instrument check ride, and I couldn’t find the frequency selector knobs. Last night was the only time I remember having both dreams — and flashing between the two for what seemed to be an eternity. Worse than Chinese water torture.”

  Keala: “Sorry to hear that. I didn’t know you were pilot.”

  “Something I picked up for the short-notice consulting gigs I was getting. The bonus: Flying was a nice escape from worldly cares — other than the check rides,” he scoffed.

  “Do you want me to wake you when I can tell you’re having bad dreams?”

  “No, Keala. I think there is a reason we need to process those experiences, maybe to purge the mind. Of course, if I’m too disturbing to your sleep, give me an elbow. Do you want me to wake you from bad dreams?”

  “Of course, Zeke! Why would I want to suffer? I’m going down for breakfast,” Keala spoke breezily and smiled. She closed the door behind her to give him privacy.

  “Join you soon. I’ll give her a few more minutes to call …”

  His smartphone vibrated and lit up. He opened the Face Up app.

  “Good morning, Zeke. Let’s get right to it. You were going to tell me how you would improve operations.”

  Zeke was struck with how composed the Benefactor looked on the cell phone screen. He felt nerves about his planned pitch to the intimidating figure before him. “Good morning. Yes, I should lead with electricity. Thank you for the two hours we are getting every day. If possible, five hours would a very positive step toward increasing our productivity even more. That will leave us in better shape to handle your priorities because we won’t have to spend so much time inefficiently on ourselves.”

  “You mention my priorities, Zeke. What do you propose for those?”

  He noticed she didn’t acknowledge his couched request. He felt out of breath. It was unsettling to speak to a godlike personage. The figure on his screen was a supremely confident, handsome lady whose words were mesmerizing. Mysteriously clad in a black hoodie, she was poised and eloquent. Her skin was absolutely perfect. She was tanned and fit. She had the aura of authority. He was impressed but taken aback at the female presence.

  Zeke recovered from the revelation and said, “I would like to see us be proactive in getting things done for you, more in a preventive mode. For example, I think regular visits to sites like the Idaho nuclear facility could be worthwhile and guarantee you a source of power.” He was testing his assumptions.

  “You know I need that power? Very good, Zeke! Why don’t you expand on your list for our talk tomorrow. Incidentally, you will have five hours of electricity beginning today. Be sure to put the blackout curtains up well before sunset.”

  “Thank you very much for the extra electricity. It will serve us both well!” Zeke said. “We will be attentive to keeping our profile low with the blackout curtains. Marsh has trained us well. And if there is any way we can get some oatmeal and peanut butter, you’ll have even more enthusiasm from my people.”

  “Goodbye, Zeke.” There was not a hint of acknowledgement of his last words in her curt sign off.

  Like a disappointed champion home-run batter, Zeke wondered why he had hit only a triple. Good until the end of the conversation, he thought; then her brusque finish. Did I go too far asking for the food? Did I present poorly? Anyway, there will be more electricity. I will plan to be judicious with requests. The Benefactor seems to have her own screen on what she will listen to. In any case, I threw a small bone to Marsh, when Marsh’s ongoing joke comes up in the future.

  He struggled with whether to tell the group of his talks with the Benefactor. He wondered, are they ready? Should I find out more before telling them? I'm not sure about confiding in anyone else except Keala and Marsh, two people I trust. Perhaps my anxieties are unfounded.

  *****

  In a morning conversation with Keala inside the metal silo, Zeke gave her a heads-up on the electricity. He owed her that. He kept it short. He would hold off on telling the group. Underpromise, overdeliver — his words to live by.

  At eleven o’clock, drones delivered oatmeal, brown sugar, powdered mild, peanut butter, and crackers. Lunch was a jubilant celebration and abuzz with speculation on who sent the drones. Zeke had a double smile: one for food, one for the success of his ask. Keala squeezed his hand under the table. Somehow, she knew his inner triumph.

  John capped the table discussion: “Magic phones, protection from above, now manna from Heaven. What’s that old expression? ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?’”

  That summoned up Sondra’s ghost in everyone's mind, protesting mightily to these good fortunes.

  When electricity stayed on past 3 PM, there were shouts of joy. At Zeke’s direction, the last of the blackout curtains had been finished that morning. The electric lighting would no
t be attracting unwanted attention, with the dark sweeping in soon.

  At supper, Zeke said, “Milt, you’re sure fitting in well. I hear several of us have come to you about blisters and corns. It really speaks well of you that Julia has asked for you to take care of her again tonight. I reminded her you also need sleep.”

  “Thanks, Zeke. Glad I can help.” Seeing his stock rising, he couldn’t help himself, “I’ll tell Julia I can take a shift tonight. Whoever’s shift I take will have to wash and wax my car.” He got a big laugh.

  At 5:50 PM, Zeke threw extra logs on the living room fire.

  At 6 PM, Cody said to Zeke, “When we get civilization back, buddy, buy me a lottery ticket, will you? The three extra hours of electricity were like Christmas to me.”

  “I’ll do that, Cody. And thanks for the hospitality. This really is a fine estate!”

  “Mi casa, su casa!” Cody smiled and added, “That’s Spanish for make yourself at home.”

  *****

  As Zeke and Keala lay in bed, she said, “Feeling pretty proud of yourself, fella?”

  “Keala, it was a great day. Getting to see the Benefactor this morning was a religious experience. She was so impressive. I couldn’t possibly estimate her age. She was highly adept, articulate, and assured. I got to explain a few things we could do for her and us with more electricity. I did get requests in for oatmeal and peanut butter, but you know she sent more than that. She acknowledged her own need for electrical power. I felt good about the call except for the sudden closure. She was clearly in charge.”

  “She! I'm probably as shocked as you. Wow! I’m impressed with what you accomplished. You should feel proud, Zeke!”

  “I was impressed with her. The flawless diction and masterful manner were something to behold. No natural hesitation; no ers or ums. If I didn’t know better, I would think I was dealing with an accomplished actress. But totally convincing morphs to unbelievable on reflection. She may be too good. You know that old expression too good to be true?”