| General Fiction posted January 14, 2022 | Chapters: |
...11 12 -13- 14... 
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Lee meets his tormentor.
A chapter in the book Concertina
Dead Man Walking
by Yardier
| Background Lee Morason is a Vietnam veteran with the aftereffects of combat clouding his view of life. He avoids the symptoms and denies he is heading to a psychological and spiritual break down. |
Lee ran into the street dodging oncoming cars, pedicabs, and cyclos. He almost made it to the alley entrance when he ran into the front fender of a slow-moving taxicab. Briefly stunned, he staggered to the sidewalk, looking for a landmark to get his bearing. But all he could see were Vietnamese vendors, pedestrians, and vehicle lights shimmering off the wet street.
Agent Chien hobbled through the front door and quickly scanned the street. At first, he did not see Lee bent over but, just as traffic slowed, Lee stood fully exposed by the harsh neon light of a soup café next to the alley entrance.
Agent Chien smiled, gathered himself, and raised his hands to the traffic before him.
He took a deep breath, and with a voice from another dimension, commanded, "Stop!" Suddenly, pedestrians and motorists came to a complete standstill, unknowingly stuck in time.
Startled by Agent Chien's power, Lee glanced over his shoulder at the dark entrance of the alley behind him.
"Run, run into the alley Lee. We'll help you." The Vietnamese voices offered.
Lee sensed that the alley entrance was more than just an alternative pedestrian walkway; it was a gateway to--- "Hell," An ominous voice from across the street confirmed.
Lee turned to the sound of the voice and gazed upon the crowd of stationary people and vehicles frozen in a curse. Beyond them, Agent Chien stood at the edge of the sidewalk with outstretched hands like a friend. His cold words were as clear as a bell dripping with threatening mockery. "Yes, my companion in denial, the gateway to hell has been in good 'ol Saigon all this time. Believe it or not, it is one of many such gateways in this world. Call them franchises, if you will, but I like this one the best. Oh Lee, Lee, you were so close to many of them. Surprisingly, there were more than a few times in your life when you sought them with lustful passion. What an energetic young man you were back in the day."
"Very impressive. You certainly got our attention." The Vietnamese voices feigned fatigue.
"What happened to you, Lee? You could have been a Rock Star or a mass murderer shooting people on the interstate just to watch them die. Oh, sorry, you've already experienced that, haven't you? Freeways, waterways, rivers, rice paddies, what the difference, eh?"
Agent Chien sighed. "So much potential, but somehow your life became dull and predictable. You downshifted and slowly rolled your ass off the grid like a slimy slug slinking toward a gladiola. We almost lost you. Was it the beer? You know we don't always get it right, but we do try. Catching you has been like, how would you say, oh yes, like catching a catfish, just another slow bottom feeder. Stubborn and slow Lee Morason, the black beret-wearing Mekong madman, right? I think your wife would agree with that sad assessment, but I would add further; As dull as you have become, it has been a real challenge to get you to this point in time. In fact, it has been a real extraordinary surreal effort."
"Tell us about it." The Vietnamese voices sighed.
Agent Chien smiled a devilish grin then slowly slicked his hair back with fingers that released small electric blue sparks. "You might as well give up; no one is going to help you. Just a few more backward steps, and it will all be over."
Lee watched in dismay as Agent Chien stepped smoothly from the curb with glowing red eyes releasing a dark force that rippled through the rain like the bow of an invisible boat. He watched Agent Chien glide effortlessly between stationary cars, pedicabs, motorcyclists, and blank-faced pedestrians suspended in time like mannequins.
As Agent Chien loomed closer, Lee shuddered at the sudden recall when he first arrived in Vietnam as a young soldier. He had experienced a similar force he had not understood nor recognized until this moment. Now, with disturbing clarity, he remembered when the jet landed at Ben Hoa in the middle of the night, a dark force entered the aircraft when the flight attendant opened the cabin door. It crowded around him quickly like a rude sniffing dog, bringing with it the unforgettable smell of humidity, jungle rot, and death.
Lee winced at the sudden lifting of a mental fog that revealed his initial thoughts and expectations of what it would be like when he first arrived in Vietnam back in '68. He had smothered them throughout the years and placed them carefully, just out of reach somewhere in his mind. He realized he had not only passed through a time zone for him to stand in the middle of Saigon but also entered another reality where Basic Training was of no use. Marksmanship, bayonet fighting, hand-to-hand combat, and cover and concealment meant nothing.
He was a dead man walking.
Lee wanted to brush the rain from his eyes and remove that troubling memory from his mind. But he dared not move as he recognized the dark force emanating from Agent Chien as one that could take him captive into a Saigon asylum from which he would never recover. Just like that night in 1968, Lee was caught in the moment; there was no way back. He had to go forward just as he had to step from the jet onto the boarding ramp to enter three hundred and sixty-five days of hell. And, in his mind's eye, he saw back through the years into the greasy jungle where something unnerving disrupted his mental balance as if a foreign hand had reached into his gut to steal his soul.
And that hand, Lee admitted, had belonged to Agent Chien all this time.
Shaken to the center of his soul, Lee closed his eyes with fearful acknowledgment that he had known all along who Agent Chien was and is and had done nothing about it.
Dear God, Lee thought, I have become my own destructor.
Agent Chien paused for a moment in the middle of the street when he saw Lee finally recognized him as the source of his torment. "Yes, subterfuge is a skill that works quite well with egomaniacs. We are pleased when one agrees to collaborate with us that the illusion, all is well, is well."
"Delusion also comes to mind, so don't blame us for your choice to surrender your soul. After all, in a hushed way, everyone knows you can't choose to not choose, but they don't want to admit they choose by not choosing. It bothers them. So, we wait patiently as they live life keeping that denial religiously secret in their mind, soul, or wherever it is you mortals hide the most important question of your wandering lives. Do you not know how ridiculous you appear by denying the obvious? Denial means death. Not just in the ground death, but into MY hand's death. Still, we didn't make up that rule; only God could produce such logic and consequence, but we're sure as hell gonna use it."
"Wow, talk about fire and brimstone," The Vietnamese voices said with awe.
"And now, Lee, the time has come. You know who I am. I am Le Chien; the midnight hound; the little stone in your shoe; the kiss of fear on the nape of your neck and the well from which your nightmares come. I stir your heart to boil up hatred that births words of destruction that shoot from your tongue like fiery darts intending to destroy that which is innocent and good. I stimulate your loins with the salve of lust to debase yourself with others. It is I, who has been the shadow behind your cowardice, guilt, and the energy that blinds you with pride!"
As raindrops gathered on Lee's eyelashes and dripped from his nose, Lee opened his eyes and faced his tormentor. Lee's arms hung limp at his side as he sighed with fatigue, knowing it was useless to ask Le Chien what he wanted or why.
They both knew why.
Le Chien slid around a motionless young man and woman sitting on a stationary cyclo and said, "More importantly, it is I, and only I, who can offer you a life unencumbered with those wretched boundaries of guilt. Imagine life without condemnation or rules. It's easy if you try." Le Chien winked at Lee, then closed the distance between them to within ten feet and said, "You will be able to do whatever you want, Lee, anything."
Lee grimaced and turned his head away.
Le Chien whispered, "Just imagine the pleasures…."
Lee looked back at Le Chien and asked weakly, "What about joy and love?"
"Love?" Le Chien's eyes burned fierce red as he stepped in front of a mini-van filled with blank-eyed tourists. "You creatures are pathetic."
Weary, Lee hung his head as a deep cavernous voice echoed from within the alley behind him. "Surrender your soul."
Agent Chien hobbled through the front door and quickly scanned the street. At first, he did not see Lee bent over but, just as traffic slowed, Lee stood fully exposed by the harsh neon light of a soup café next to the alley entrance.
Agent Chien smiled, gathered himself, and raised his hands to the traffic before him.
He took a deep breath, and with a voice from another dimension, commanded, "Stop!" Suddenly, pedestrians and motorists came to a complete standstill, unknowingly stuck in time.
Startled by Agent Chien's power, Lee glanced over his shoulder at the dark entrance of the alley behind him.
"Run, run into the alley Lee. We'll help you." The Vietnamese voices offered.
Lee sensed that the alley entrance was more than just an alternative pedestrian walkway; it was a gateway to--- "Hell," An ominous voice from across the street confirmed.
Lee turned to the sound of the voice and gazed upon the crowd of stationary people and vehicles frozen in a curse. Beyond them, Agent Chien stood at the edge of the sidewalk with outstretched hands like a friend. His cold words were as clear as a bell dripping with threatening mockery. "Yes, my companion in denial, the gateway to hell has been in good 'ol Saigon all this time. Believe it or not, it is one of many such gateways in this world. Call them franchises, if you will, but I like this one the best. Oh Lee, Lee, you were so close to many of them. Surprisingly, there were more than a few times in your life when you sought them with lustful passion. What an energetic young man you were back in the day."
"Very impressive. You certainly got our attention." The Vietnamese voices feigned fatigue.
"What happened to you, Lee? You could have been a Rock Star or a mass murderer shooting people on the interstate just to watch them die. Oh, sorry, you've already experienced that, haven't you? Freeways, waterways, rivers, rice paddies, what the difference, eh?"
Agent Chien sighed. "So much potential, but somehow your life became dull and predictable. You downshifted and slowly rolled your ass off the grid like a slimy slug slinking toward a gladiola. We almost lost you. Was it the beer? You know we don't always get it right, but we do try. Catching you has been like, how would you say, oh yes, like catching a catfish, just another slow bottom feeder. Stubborn and slow Lee Morason, the black beret-wearing Mekong madman, right? I think your wife would agree with that sad assessment, but I would add further; As dull as you have become, it has been a real challenge to get you to this point in time. In fact, it has been a real extraordinary surreal effort."
"Tell us about it." The Vietnamese voices sighed.
Agent Chien smiled a devilish grin then slowly slicked his hair back with fingers that released small electric blue sparks. "You might as well give up; no one is going to help you. Just a few more backward steps, and it will all be over."
Lee watched in dismay as Agent Chien stepped smoothly from the curb with glowing red eyes releasing a dark force that rippled through the rain like the bow of an invisible boat. He watched Agent Chien glide effortlessly between stationary cars, pedicabs, motorcyclists, and blank-faced pedestrians suspended in time like mannequins.
As Agent Chien loomed closer, Lee shuddered at the sudden recall when he first arrived in Vietnam as a young soldier. He had experienced a similar force he had not understood nor recognized until this moment. Now, with disturbing clarity, he remembered when the jet landed at Ben Hoa in the middle of the night, a dark force entered the aircraft when the flight attendant opened the cabin door. It crowded around him quickly like a rude sniffing dog, bringing with it the unforgettable smell of humidity, jungle rot, and death.
Lee winced at the sudden lifting of a mental fog that revealed his initial thoughts and expectations of what it would be like when he first arrived in Vietnam back in '68. He had smothered them throughout the years and placed them carefully, just out of reach somewhere in his mind. He realized he had not only passed through a time zone for him to stand in the middle of Saigon but also entered another reality where Basic Training was of no use. Marksmanship, bayonet fighting, hand-to-hand combat, and cover and concealment meant nothing.
He was a dead man walking.
Lee wanted to brush the rain from his eyes and remove that troubling memory from his mind. But he dared not move as he recognized the dark force emanating from Agent Chien as one that could take him captive into a Saigon asylum from which he would never recover. Just like that night in 1968, Lee was caught in the moment; there was no way back. He had to go forward just as he had to step from the jet onto the boarding ramp to enter three hundred and sixty-five days of hell. And, in his mind's eye, he saw back through the years into the greasy jungle where something unnerving disrupted his mental balance as if a foreign hand had reached into his gut to steal his soul.
And that hand, Lee admitted, had belonged to Agent Chien all this time.
Shaken to the center of his soul, Lee closed his eyes with fearful acknowledgment that he had known all along who Agent Chien was and is and had done nothing about it.
Dear God, Lee thought, I have become my own destructor.
Agent Chien paused for a moment in the middle of the street when he saw Lee finally recognized him as the source of his torment. "Yes, subterfuge is a skill that works quite well with egomaniacs. We are pleased when one agrees to collaborate with us that the illusion, all is well, is well."
"Delusion also comes to mind, so don't blame us for your choice to surrender your soul. After all, in a hushed way, everyone knows you can't choose to not choose, but they don't want to admit they choose by not choosing. It bothers them. So, we wait patiently as they live life keeping that denial religiously secret in their mind, soul, or wherever it is you mortals hide the most important question of your wandering lives. Do you not know how ridiculous you appear by denying the obvious? Denial means death. Not just in the ground death, but into MY hand's death. Still, we didn't make up that rule; only God could produce such logic and consequence, but we're sure as hell gonna use it."
"Wow, talk about fire and brimstone," The Vietnamese voices said with awe.
"And now, Lee, the time has come. You know who I am. I am Le Chien; the midnight hound; the little stone in your shoe; the kiss of fear on the nape of your neck and the well from which your nightmares come. I stir your heart to boil up hatred that births words of destruction that shoot from your tongue like fiery darts intending to destroy that which is innocent and good. I stimulate your loins with the salve of lust to debase yourself with others. It is I, who has been the shadow behind your cowardice, guilt, and the energy that blinds you with pride!"
As raindrops gathered on Lee's eyelashes and dripped from his nose, Lee opened his eyes and faced his tormentor. Lee's arms hung limp at his side as he sighed with fatigue, knowing it was useless to ask Le Chien what he wanted or why.
They both knew why.
Le Chien slid around a motionless young man and woman sitting on a stationary cyclo and said, "More importantly, it is I, and only I, who can offer you a life unencumbered with those wretched boundaries of guilt. Imagine life without condemnation or rules. It's easy if you try." Le Chien winked at Lee, then closed the distance between them to within ten feet and said, "You will be able to do whatever you want, Lee, anything."
Lee grimaced and turned his head away.
Le Chien whispered, "Just imagine the pleasures…."
Lee looked back at Le Chien and asked weakly, "What about joy and love?"
"Love?" Le Chien's eyes burned fierce red as he stepped in front of a mini-van filled with blank-eyed tourists. "You creatures are pathetic."
Weary, Lee hung his head as a deep cavernous voice echoed from within the alley behind him. "Surrender your soul."
~~~~
The title Concertina refers to razor wire used to secure a combat perimeter. It is also used on prison walls. It is designed with barbs and razor type hooks intended to snag a person from entering or attempting to escape a secure area.
Concertina, in the context of this novella refers to psychological and spiritual entanglement. Specifically, it refers to a Vietnam combat veteran who is ensnared by the deepest and darkest fetters of torment and denial. Those fetters consist of alcohol abuse, guilt, and resentment.
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and 2 member cents. Concertina, in the context of this novella refers to psychological and spiritual entanglement. Specifically, it refers to a Vietnam combat veteran who is ensnared by the deepest and darkest fetters of torment and denial. Those fetters consist of alcohol abuse, guilt, and resentment.
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