The Truth
Jonathan passed his silver flask through the bars and Rick took a big swig of whiskey. What the hell was he doing? He was about to give up a secret that he had sworn to carry to the grave. Maybe it was the proximity of that grave that was tempting him to talk… No. He had faced death many times before and had never dreamed of telling anyone. Was it that he finally had a friend? Two friends and a chance at a future? He never had that before. Did that justify what he was about to do? It was Evelyn. He wanted her to know the truth. He didn't want to leave her wondering.
Jonathan took back his flask and waited patiently. Confession wasn't easy. God knows he had never been able to do it.
"Alright," said Rick. "The kid in the orphanage was me. My Dad was having a hard time of it back home."
"What about your mother?" asked Jonathan.
"Dead," replied Rick. "I was a difficult delivery; big baby. One minute my Dad had it all: a wife and a kid, and then the next minute he just had the kid. He was always a dreamer, always looking for some treasure or something so he wouldn't really have to work. He tried looking for gold in the hills around the Carolinas…"
"I didn't think there was gold there…" said Jonathan.
"There wasn't. At least not where my Dad looked. He ended up doing a lot of drinking and a few odd jobs here and there, but that wasn't the life he wanted. He tried moving us to New York, but that didn't work out either. We both had to resort to stealing to get by. So he dragged me across the ocean to Egypt so he could find his big fortune by digging in the sand. "Just as easy as pulling the gold out of the hills in California," he said. Dad never was good at research. Of course, it didn't work out. He couldn't get hired onto any expeditions because he had no experience and a kid. I did a lot more stealing and he did a lot more drinking until he got killed in a fight and I got sent to the orphanage in Cairo."
"Not a nice place," said Jonathan. "Evy almost got sent there when our parents died. She was fifteen and I was twenty five. I convinced them to let me become her guardian."
Rick nodded. "Good man," he said. "I would hate to think she had spent any time in there. It was three years for me. I snuck out and got a job as a porter on a ship when I was fifteen. I was tall, so I looked older. I went back to the States. I was an American, that was where I belonged, I thought. Just like my Dad, I thought I could start over. Just like my Dad, I was wrong. I worked on the docks in Boston for a while, the money was awful and I spent a lot of time gambling and stealing and drinking and getting into trouble. I had to move from city to city to stay away from the police. When the war started, that was my big chance to get out. It was all glamorous, then, you know. The uniform, be a hero, all that crap; we kids really bought into it. I couldn't use my real name because I was wanted, so I made one up."
"Reese, for your Dad…" said Jonathan.
"Yeah," said Rick. "And I picked Benjamin because of a dog we used to have…" He drifted off for a moment. He had never told that to anyone.
"Go on," prompted Jonathan.
"Anything left in that flask?" Rick asked. The story didn't get any better.
"Sure, take the rest." Jonathan passed it back and Rick took another drink.
"I had a new life. I had a new name, I was a soldier. I was honorable, respectable. They told me when to get up, when to eat, God, even how to walk. I loved it.
Until we shipped out. There was nothing honorable about what we did in that war." Rick paused again and took another drink. "I had a buddy, we went through training together. His name was Arlen Holbrook. He was my age, but as different as anyone could be. He came from a good family. He went to college, he went to church. He was married to a nice girl and they just had a baby. I had decided that he would be my model. I finally had an example of a good person."
"There were a lot of rotten things going on in our troop. There was plenty of temptation. Arlen and I were together once in a burnt-out house and there was plenty of silver and stuff to take, but Arlen wouldn't do it, so I didn't either. We were the only ones. Our Sergeant, Larson, didn't let anything like morals stop him. He took plenty of stuff. I think Arlen and me not taking anything kind of ticked him off, the bastard. He knew, somehow he knew how I used to be and he was pissed off that I wouldn't do it anymore. He thought I thought I was better than him. Hell, I guess I was. He was always trying to catch me doing something wrong, but he couldn't do it."
"This went on for months. I was pretty proud that I hadn't taken anything. Word got out to the higher ups about our troop. Some prisoners had said we were stealing from them. Inspectors came. Larson, I guess it was Larson, had a bunch of stuff that he needed to hide, and he hid it in my rucksack and bunk and wasn't surprised at all when they found it, knowing my background and all, he told them. The military police were looking for me; I couldn't go back to the base. I was enraged with Larson and went looking for him. I found him at the hospital's morgue tent, going through the pockets of the dead guys. I pulled my gun on him and told him to stop, that I was turning him in. He tried to talk me out of it, said I didn't have the guts and who would believe me anyway? He was the son of a General. Somehow, Arlen had found out what was going on and he came looking for me to make sure I didn't do anything stupid. When he busted in the room, Larson shot at him, hitting him in the shoulder. Arlen didn't know who he was and fired back. He killed him."
"Gimme that flask," said Jonathan. He wanted another drink after all.
"We had to act fast and we didn't know what to do. No one would believe Larson was a thief; he was a General's son. Arlen had a wife and a kid and he had just saved my life. I had nothing to loose but a fake name. I made Arlen promise to say it was me that shot Larson. He didn't want to do it, but I made him. It was the only thing that made sense to do. I could just walk away, use my real name and start over again. I didn't plan to go back to the States ever, I would go to Egypt and make a living there. Everything would work out for the best for everyone. Things did sort of work out. Until now."
"Until now," echoed Jonathan. "Have you heard anything from Arlen since?"
"No," said Rick. "He doesn't even know my real name."
"What happened to him?"
"I don't know. I hope he made it back home and is living with his wife and kid. That was the plan."
"Damn," said Jonathan.
"Yep," said Rick.
"We have to find this Arlen…"
"No, I told you. He has a wife and a kid. He has a life," Rick told him.
"You have a life too," said Jonathan. "We can get a lawyer and straighten this thing out. Someone else has to know Larson was a crook, you said the whole troop was in on it."
"Right," said Rick. "We'll contact everyone from my troop and have them confess to stealing from the dead so they can all go to jail and I can get out. That sounds like a plan."
"There has to be something we can do," Jonathan insisted.
"Well, I'm fresh out of ideas," Rick sighed and turned to face Jonathan. "Look, thanks, "he said. "You were right. I'm kind of glad I got to tell someone."
Jonathan reached through the bars and put his hand on Rick's shoulder. "We'll find a way to get you out of this, I promise."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," said Rick.
Jonathan passed his silver flask through the bars and Rick took a big swig of whiskey. What the hell was he doing? He was about to give up a secret that he had sworn to carry to the grave. Maybe it was the proximity of that grave that was tempting him to talk… No. He had faced death many times before and had never dreamed of telling anyone. Was it that he finally had a friend? Two friends and a chance at a future? He never had that before. Did that justify what he was about to do? It was Evelyn. He wanted her to know the truth. He didn't want to leave her wondering.
Jonathan took back his flask and waited patiently. Confession wasn't easy. God knows he had never been able to do it.
"Alright," said Rick. "The kid in the orphanage was me. My Dad was having a hard time of it back home."
"What about your mother?" asked Jonathan.
"Dead," replied Rick. "I was a difficult delivery; big baby. One minute my Dad had it all: a wife and a kid, and then the next minute he just had the kid. He was always a dreamer, always looking for some treasure or something so he wouldn't really have to work. He tried looking for gold in the hills around the Carolinas…"
"I didn't think there was gold there…" said Jonathan.
"There wasn't. At least not where my Dad looked. He ended up doing a lot of drinking and a few odd jobs here and there, but that wasn't the life he wanted. He tried moving us to New York, but that didn't work out either. We both had to resort to stealing to get by. So he dragged me across the ocean to Egypt so he could find his big fortune by digging in the sand. "Just as easy as pulling the gold out of the hills in California," he said. Dad never was good at research. Of course, it didn't work out. He couldn't get hired onto any expeditions because he had no experience and a kid. I did a lot more stealing and he did a lot more drinking until he got killed in a fight and I got sent to the orphanage in Cairo."
"Not a nice place," said Jonathan. "Evy almost got sent there when our parents died. She was fifteen and I was twenty five. I convinced them to let me become her guardian."
Rick nodded. "Good man," he said. "I would hate to think she had spent any time in there. It was three years for me. I snuck out and got a job as a porter on a ship when I was fifteen. I was tall, so I looked older. I went back to the States. I was an American, that was where I belonged, I thought. Just like my Dad, I thought I could start over. Just like my Dad, I was wrong. I worked on the docks in Boston for a while, the money was awful and I spent a lot of time gambling and stealing and drinking and getting into trouble. I had to move from city to city to stay away from the police. When the war started, that was my big chance to get out. It was all glamorous, then, you know. The uniform, be a hero, all that crap; we kids really bought into it. I couldn't use my real name because I was wanted, so I made one up."
"Reese, for your Dad…" said Jonathan.
"Yeah," said Rick. "And I picked Benjamin because of a dog we used to have…" He drifted off for a moment. He had never told that to anyone.
"Go on," prompted Jonathan.
"Anything left in that flask?" Rick asked. The story didn't get any better.
"Sure, take the rest." Jonathan passed it back and Rick took another drink.
"I had a new life. I had a new name, I was a soldier. I was honorable, respectable. They told me when to get up, when to eat, God, even how to walk. I loved it.
Until we shipped out. There was nothing honorable about what we did in that war." Rick paused again and took another drink. "I had a buddy, we went through training together. His name was Arlen Holbrook. He was my age, but as different as anyone could be. He came from a good family. He went to college, he went to church. He was married to a nice girl and they just had a baby. I had decided that he would be my model. I finally had an example of a good person."
"There were a lot of rotten things going on in our troop. There was plenty of temptation. Arlen and I were together once in a burnt-out house and there was plenty of silver and stuff to take, but Arlen wouldn't do it, so I didn't either. We were the only ones. Our Sergeant, Larson, didn't let anything like morals stop him. He took plenty of stuff. I think Arlen and me not taking anything kind of ticked him off, the bastard. He knew, somehow he knew how I used to be and he was pissed off that I wouldn't do it anymore. He thought I thought I was better than him. Hell, I guess I was. He was always trying to catch me doing something wrong, but he couldn't do it."
"This went on for months. I was pretty proud that I hadn't taken anything. Word got out to the higher ups about our troop. Some prisoners had said we were stealing from them. Inspectors came. Larson, I guess it was Larson, had a bunch of stuff that he needed to hide, and he hid it in my rucksack and bunk and wasn't surprised at all when they found it, knowing my background and all, he told them. The military police were looking for me; I couldn't go back to the base. I was enraged with Larson and went looking for him. I found him at the hospital's morgue tent, going through the pockets of the dead guys. I pulled my gun on him and told him to stop, that I was turning him in. He tried to talk me out of it, said I didn't have the guts and who would believe me anyway? He was the son of a General. Somehow, Arlen had found out what was going on and he came looking for me to make sure I didn't do anything stupid. When he busted in the room, Larson shot at him, hitting him in the shoulder. Arlen didn't know who he was and fired back. He killed him."
"Gimme that flask," said Jonathan. He wanted another drink after all.
"We had to act fast and we didn't know what to do. No one would believe Larson was a thief; he was a General's son. Arlen had a wife and a kid and he had just saved my life. I had nothing to loose but a fake name. I made Arlen promise to say it was me that shot Larson. He didn't want to do it, but I made him. It was the only thing that made sense to do. I could just walk away, use my real name and start over again. I didn't plan to go back to the States ever, I would go to Egypt and make a living there. Everything would work out for the best for everyone. Things did sort of work out. Until now."
"Until now," echoed Jonathan. "Have you heard anything from Arlen since?"
"No," said Rick. "He doesn't even know my real name."
"What happened to him?"
"I don't know. I hope he made it back home and is living with his wife and kid. That was the plan."
"Damn," said Jonathan.
"Yep," said Rick.
"We have to find this Arlen…"
"No, I told you. He has a wife and a kid. He has a life," Rick told him.
"You have a life too," said Jonathan. "We can get a lawyer and straighten this thing out. Someone else has to know Larson was a crook, you said the whole troop was in on it."
"Right," said Rick. "We'll contact everyone from my troop and have them confess to stealing from the dead so they can all go to jail and I can get out. That sounds like a plan."
"There has to be something we can do," Jonathan insisted.
"Well, I'm fresh out of ideas," Rick sighed and turned to face Jonathan. "Look, thanks, "he said. "You were right. I'm kind of glad I got to tell someone."
Jonathan reached through the bars and put his hand on Rick's shoulder. "We'll find a way to get you out of this, I promise."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," said Rick.