Blind turn, p.2
Blind Turn, page 2
“What do you get out of all of this?”
“Like I said, someone did the same for me, so I’m paying it forward and doing the same for you with a sincere hope that you understand the gift and don’t waste it,” Joel added. “Now, sit down here and let me show you how to milk Old Lace.”
Dex offered a hesitant smile. “So, somewhere around here this is another animal named Arsenic?”
“Nah, that’s one step too far,” Joel said, taking a good look at the boy. The dark hair gave him the appearance of possibly being Hispanic. The skin tone noted he had a black parent. The sadness in his eyes said he’d been tossed around, and no one had loved him in a long time.
To the man the Archangel named Mr. Merge, that was also one step too far. He had his tasks; he was the poisons specialists for the Southeast Construction Crew and a skilled technician. The last thing he wanted or needed to be was a babysitter for wayward youth, but the kid needed to feel safe. Every child, in his opinion, should feel safe, and Dex was no different. He’d do what he could, where he could, however he could.
“Mr. Thomas,” Dex said, “the Sheriff, you seem to have a working relationship with him. Are you two sorta friends?”
Joel didn’t hesitate on his answer. “That man is the worst kind of police officer Dex. He carries a big gun which he aims with a small mind, and that makes him a threat to not only you, but also to me. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Dex said.
“Good, understanding is the first step to surviving a world hell bent on making you it’s bitch,” Joel said with a bit of chagrin.
The job he was given had left a bitter taste in his mouth as if he’d swallowed a dose of his own remedies. Life wasn’t kind, but he’d survived some very tough and lean years, coming out on the other end better for the journey and angry for the challenges of the course. In his mind, either way, he was victorious, but the chapters of his book needed a new subplot. Dex just may be the reason he’d turn the page.
Chapter Two – Venom
The sun took its damned time rising over the flat land of the William's Farm. Coffee in hand, Joel stood on the front porch of the old white farmhouse, staring out at what his grandparents, and their grandparents before them, had built in Arkansas. He'd never thought for one minute that he would live here and love it, but he did. This was his life blood and the place where he would settle and figure out his path in the world.
However, his path had required a course correction mid-way through his teen years. It was an accident, he'd been told. A tragic car accident which took out his parents and left him as an orphan to be fed into a system which chewed up children and spit out criminals. Life was hard those first two years, but at the age of thirteen, members of his parent's church took him under their wing. Pastor Johnson and his son Brody took the time to ensure that Joel's belly was full every night and that he understood what it meant to belong. A year later at a summer camp for youths ran by the church, he met one Gabriel Neary, a youth pastor in training. Gabriel was a man with kind eyes and a mischievous mind.
Gabriel Neary befriended him and showed Joel what it meant to be a man of his word, a trait many men lacked and few women understood. Gabriel taught him how to stand for a truth and to put his weight behind it to make sure the stone got moved. There was no rush for the stone to move today, but working at it every day and putting a bit of muscle behind the effort and that stone would give way. He still believed that, and it was part of his credo; all he had to do was continue the work and the boulder would budge.
In the other room was a ratty pebble. The edges on it were jagged and in need of polishing. Last night before bed, a moment of doubt had crept into him and concern flooded his brain of the probability that he couldn't help the boy, Dex. Of course, Joel had worked for years as a camp counselor at the same Christian youth camp that had served him, but he was now a man. A young boy staying in his home made him feel uncomfortable, knowing what the boy had been through. He couldn't see himself offering the child affection without the boy becoming suspicious that he was tenderizing him before injecting the venom that would paralyze his young body so Joel could swallow him whole. No, that wasn't the right approach, but at this point, he didn't know the right path, and he couldn't push it. They would get there. He had gotten there and learned to trust again, but it took years for Gabriel to teach him how to let down his guards to allow someone else inside.
"I'll just start slow," he said to himself as he heard the sound of the old screen door opening, announcing that Dex was coming outside. "Morning Dex."
"Morning Mr. Thomas," the boy said, coming to stand next to him. His head was down, and he looked at his feet. The shoes had seen better days and more than likely had holes in the soles. The holes in the soles more than likely matched the holes in Dex's soul as well.
"Speak what's on your mind," Joel told Dex.
"Thank you," Dex said. "Two nights in a row I've gone to bed with my belly full and slept all night. I woke up this morning feeling...I guess, hopeful."
Joel advised, "that's a good place to start, but that's not all that's on your mind. Be honest with me about what is happening in that head of yours. When you can do that, the healing can begin."
"Healing?" Dex asked, crinkling his nose.
Joel raised the cup to his mouth, taking a large gulp of the dark rich brew. The coffee went down smoothly as the sun began to peek over the edge of the farm as if it were stretching its arms before getting out of bed. The rays of light slowly began to spread over the land like a big blanket being pulled back to wake up the sleeping soul under the covers. Joel turned his body, resting his butt against the wooden railing and crossing his feet at the ankles.
"Dex, there are all sorts of wounds," Joel told him. "There are wounds that break your heart, wounds that break your spirit, and wounds that injure your soul. Unfortunately, in your life you've experienced all three. If you want to grow into a good man, you must heal those injuries. Yeah, it's going to be hard as hell and at times, it’s going to feel like you will never make it through, but every day, think of your life as a boulder. The more you push it to get it out of your way, the stronger you're going to become."
"You think my soul is injured?"
Joel asked, "can I hug you?"
Dex jumped a foot away, holding up his hands. His eyes held fear, and his hands tremored. The reaction was real as well as the fear.
"See, that's what I mean about the wound to your soul. Immediately, you distrusted my intentions because life has taught you that affection from an adult male means something sexual," Joel told him. "It's not sexual for a mentor or a guide in your life to teach you that people need human touch in a positive, comforting manner," Joel said, laughing. "My mentor—hopefully, you will get to meet the Archangel in person—makes me hug him when I first see him, and he makes me hug him when I'm departing his presence. He also likes to kiss me on my temple."
"Isn't that, like, weird to you?"
"At first, I was ready to lay the man out, considering what I'd been through with the three foster families I'd lived with, so yeah, the Archangel hugging me was like, oh hell no," Joel said, laughing, which put Dex at ease. "He wouldn't ease up. Then one day, I saw him with his two brothers Zeke and Bleu; he also hugged and kissed them, and the brothers didn't balk at the affection."
Dex turned down his lips and scowled at Joel. "Was that what convinced you to let a grown man hug and kiss you?"
"No, what convinced me was their father Joe," Joel told Dex, "a burly man's man, who talked gruff, walked tough, and took in a bit of snuff," Joel chuckled. "He came to the youth camp at the end of the season. He embraced and kissed each of his sons on the temple. He did it openly in front of everyone, and his sons weren't embarrassed by the act, and neither was he. It made me think about my own father."
"You said you were in foster care," Dex commented.
"Yep, three different homes, but it was the fourth one that really was the one which nearly broke my soul," he said. "Not all predators are men, Dex. There are women predators more sinister than any man could ever think of trying to be, using the need for a man's desire for mothering and turning it into a nasty treat for themselves."
"What happened to your parents, if you don't mind me asking," Dex said.
"I mind, and now is not the time to share such details of my life with a kid who I'm not sure is going to stay around," Joel informed the kid. "Information is knowledge, and trust goes both ways. Before I can share my story with you, I have to know that my confidence in you is not going to be wasted, then you light out of here in a month with my credit cards and a backpack full of new clothes."
"Wait, I'm getting some new clothes?" Dex asked, his eyes lighting up. He opened his arms, walking towards Joel who held up his hand to stop him in his tracks.
"Nope, I don't operate like that," Joel said. "Pretending to want to hug me so I can buy you some clothes and shoes. I think I'm offended."
Dex started to laugh. It was a soft laugh, tentative, with a smile that seemed almost painful to his young face. The act warmed Joel's heart to see he was making headway with the kid.
"Well, I don't want to offend you, so I'll just keep my hugs to myself," Dex said.
"Yeah, do that."
A silence fell between them as Joel contemplated the chores of the morning and all the work he normally did on a Saturday before settling in for the evening to work on his blog. It was his second connection to the outside world because honestly, he just didn't like people very much. The world was filling up with assholes who were taking a dump on almost every lawn they came across. He loved his work as a technician taking out one nasty booger at a time with his infamous cocktails. Yet, seeing the boy standing next to him made him rethink a few choices that were made in his life. However, this was only the beginning of the changes to come, and regrettably, Joel wasn't ready for everything that was coming his way.
"Dex, you need a haircut," Joel said. "When we go to social services on Monday, I'll take you to the barber shop and get you some decent shoes and a couple of changes of clothing. I need to repair some fences in the south pasture, as well as check on a private crop I have growing in my greenhouse. If you're interested in helping with both, I will pay you $25 for each job."
"I get paid to help you?"
"No, you'll get paid to help me do these two jobs. I want you to see how it feels to earn money honestly for hard work Dex. Fifty dollars may not be much, but you can open a bank account with $25, and still have a few dollars in your pocket," he said. "If you hang around, I'll give you an allowance, but you are using my water and power and eating my damned food."
"True, but I'm also milking the cow and feeding the chicks, and yesterday I helped you shoe Castor Bean, so does that mean I get $25 for that too?"
"Hell no! Like I said, you're using my water and power and eating my damned food," Joel said, walking past him heading into the farmhouse. "Let's get the day moving. We feed them before we eat. After breakfast, we can repair the fence and head to my greenhouse. There are a few things I want to show you."
Dex tagged along behind him, excited to earn a few dollars doing legal chores and learning more about the man who had given him safe haven.
AYANA MICHAELS WAS frantic. She’d called Dexter Lockhart three times and he hadn’t answered. She needed to talk to him about what happened last night. She needed to speak to Dexter, but she couldn’t reach him. Everything was getting worse.
She had to leave.
She needed to get out of here.
They had a plan, she and Dex, to leave town together, but when he said he was ready two days ago, Ayana backed out. Surely, he wouldn’t have left without her. Being alone on the road wasn’t safe. Her father had taken away the money she’d saved, and she had nothing.
Nothing was left but the pain and anguish of being stuck in a situation that was rapidly going from terrible to downright atrocious. She fought back the tears as she sat down on the bed which had quickly become a source of torment for her life. Everything in her said to run, but she didn’t know how to survive out there on her own. The streets would eat her alive.
“Gosh damn you, Dex, where are you?”
THE BLISTERS ON HIS hands opened the skin, creating perfectly round circles of pink flesh that were painful. Dex held out his hands, allowing Joel to rub the soothing balm across his palms to ease the burning and prevent an infection. He’d been instructed to use the gloves as he’d wielded the post hole digger, but the leather muffs were too big and twisted around his fingers. By the time the six new holes were finished, the insides of his hands looked like raw meat.
“When I tell you to do something Dex, I need you to do it,” Joel said. “This will serve as a hard lesson for not listening. Your hands are going to be out of commission for a minute. The gauze wrappings should be kept clean and dry to prevent moisture.”
“I understand,” Dex said, noticing the phone on the charger. He hadn’t physically checked it in a few days, and now, with his hands bandaged like the Mummy, other concerns were taking a precedent. “I still want to help in the greenhouse or at least show me so I can learn.”
“It’s important to listen to what I say, okay Dex?”
“Yes, Mr. Thomas,” Dex replied, looking at his hands and realizing he’d been stupid not to stop when the first blister burst open. He wasn’t a freeloader. He was willing to do the work, and he needed Mr. Thomas to know he wasn’t a shirker of his duties. Being in a safe environment, as far as he could tell, was much better than living in a meth house with two users of the merchandise who wanted to trade him for products to make more drugs. He’d had enough of foster homes, and soon he’d be aging out anyway. This would work for now, and if things started to get weird, he’d leave.
Dex gave into his thoughts entirely too soon, since weird showed up and hung around the greenhouse. Every poisonous plant known to make a man sick or die grew in the greenhouse. A small lab sat beside the green house filled with Bunsen burners, beakers, flasks, and tiny vials of thick liquids. A box from Colombia sat on the edge of the table. Dex read the label, Las Tierras, which he’d look up later.
The first thought that went through his mind was that Mr. Thomas was also a drug manufacturer getting shipments from Colombia. The second thought revolved was all the deadly plants and chemistry equipment. The third thought was to run as fast as he could to get the hell away from this house.
In his anxiousness to get out of the greenhouse, he knocked over the box from Colombia sending two small vials flying through the air. Dex reached out to grab one, but Joel moved quickly, pushing him out of the way and capturing the vials inside the cushioned box they traveled inside to the United States.
“Careful. Careful,” Joel said. “I wanted you to see the lab and see what is in here so you don’t get curious and come inside and accidently kill yourself.”
“What is all this stuff? You some kind of fancy drug dealer?” Dex inquired, his face growing hot, his ear lobes warming and feeling fearful bubbled in his guts.
“Yes, but the stuff I make is for Uncle Sam. I make things for the government as a side hustle. It is a private business that the locals know nothing about. The only reason I’m showing you is to make sure you don’t get curious and get yourself dead,” Joel said, moving the box with the vials to a higher shelf.
“That box said Colombia. I only know of two things that come out of Colombia, and one is coffee,” Dex said, slowly backing away.
“This farm, Las Tierras, does grow coffee,” Joel corrected, “but the farm also grows other items. However, what I get from them is very rare and special.”
Joel removed the box from the top shelf. Slipping on a pair of leather gloves, he reached inside and lifted out the first vial. Inside was a thick clear liquid.
“This is venom of the inland Taipan,” he told Dex. “This venom can kill a man in forty-five minutes.”
Joel placed the first vial inside of the container. Next, he picked up the second vial which contained a similar liquid, but much darker and thicker. He held it up to the light, looking at the viscosity of the contents.
“This is the venom of the Black Mamba, which can kill a man in twenty minutes, kind of like a coral snake,” Joel said, placing the item back into the box.
Dex’s eyes were wide. “Why in the hell do you have all of this poisonous stuff for the government? This is dangerous. Who orders deadly venoms from a farm in Colombia? I think I would have felt better if you’d ordered a box of cocaine!”
“I’m showing you so you know I have nothing to hide,” Joel expounded. “Owning any of these plants or ordering this venom is not illegal. Nothing in here is unlawful, which means I’m not doing anything illegal, are we clear?”
“No, it is cloudy as hell up in this bitch!” Dex said, not afraid to speak his mind. “I have questions about the sort of man who has black Mamba venom in a vial in his workshop of toxic plants!”
“I’m letting you know, up front, that I’m not the sort of man you fuck with, fuck over, or mess with,” Joel said. “I will never harm you unless you become a threat to me or my way of life. This can be your home if you want it to be. I will be a mentor and guide for you. Your job is to go to school and get an education and feed the animals on the farm. Nice and regular. Stay out of my lab, and we will be cool. Is that clear?”
“Clear,” Dex mumbled, “but now I’m kind of afraid of you.”
“That is exactly the point. Be afraid of me for the right reasons, not out of fear of me giving you a hug here and there,” Joel said. “Now let’s go make some breakfast.”
Chapter Three – Bane
Sundays at the Williams Farm were a special day; at least they were for Joel. Every Sunday he received a special visit from his lady, Regina Musgrove. Most people in Monroe County called her Tootie the Toe Lady since she was the only podiatrist within two hundred miles. The majority of people in the county didn't know what a podiatrist was, or that Tootie was in fact a medical doctor; they just thought she liked to cut people's hard toenails for money. To Joel, she was his love doctor.
