The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

Charles with his books in hand got off of the bus and carried on towards the public library. The autumn leaves swirled and blew
all about in the careless wind that morning. As the man hobbled along he couldn't help but to take a quick stop and study the
various school children scurrying about with their Halloween costumes on while waiting at the nearby park for their school buses
to arrive. Some were wearing disguises that bore the images of witches, vampires, and Frankenstein, or Star Wars characters.
Out of all of them, the only masks he couldn't seem to spot were ones that he expected to see more than any of the others. Out
of all the children and their costumes, not once did he see one that even resembled such an evil plague that he had in mind. It
was nowhere to be found within the throngs of children that were happily frolicking to and fro. The mask was completely vacant
to his sight.
Charles swallowed before turning and resuming his march up the tall library steps and into the warm building where librarians
were either dressed up in costumes or not. The man, completely oblivious to his surroundings, carried on towards the front
counter. The instant he reached the counter he placed his books down and went for his wallet within his pocket.
"I'll be with you in a moment." A male voice said from behind a shelf.
Charles rooted about inside his pants pocket for his wallet. The moment he found it right beside him approached a sweaty and
smelly Jeremiah who dropped his bruised books onto the same counter next to Charles'. Charles timidly glanced over at the
untidy young man as if he were looking at an unfortunate soul that required both aid and prayer. Jeremiah returned the gesture,
only his gaze was meeker, like he was too ashamed to look anyone in the eye. The two men stood only a few inches apart from
the other at the counter awaiting service mercifully sooner than later.
"Okay, sorry about that, gentlemen." A middle-aged white man came up to the counter dressed in a Dracula costume, complete
with a black cape, painted white face and plastic fangs inside his mouth.
Both Charles and Jeremiah stood and watched as the librarian checked each and every book. Charles couldn't help but to take
notice of the books that the man beside him was checking back in. How similar they were to his.
"You can definitely tell its Halloween just by the content that comes in and out of here." The librarian smugly stated.
Charles could smell the man beside him. His aroma was shockingly pungent. He wanted so badly to turn and say something to
him, but there was a force inside of him that kept him quiet and restrained. He couldn't explain it to himself.
Looking at Charles, the librarian said, "Okay, these books are long overdue. So that means you owe seventeen-fifty."

Humbly nodding his head, Charles took out his wallet and handed the man a twenty dollar bill. The librarian gave the man his
change. Charles then stood and counted the remaining money inside his wallet while the librarian conducted his business with
Jeremiah.
"Okay, and it just so happens that your books are well overdue as well. So your total comes to...sixteen-forty-nine."
Jeremiah searched about inside his pants pockets, but all he seemed to be able to pull out of his wallet were a few bills. "I,
uh...all I have is gas money." He miserably commented.
Looking disappointed, the librarian replied, "I'm afraid these books need to be paid for immediately."
Charles watched as the young man beside him did his best to stall for time. He could tell that it was such an agonizing situation
to be stuck in.
"I'll pay for his books." Charles stepped forward.
Jeremiah stared so hard at the man that it looked like for a moment he was about to break down and cry. "Thank...thank you."
Jeremiah fought to mutter before turning and limping away.
The librarian, with a pair of haughty eyes, twisted his lips and muttered, "We get a lot of homeless people in here around this
time of year. It's like an infestation."
Charles ignored the man's remark and handed the librarian the money while watching Jeremiah melt into the crowd of library
patrons. All he could do was watch him vanish. Just as Charles was about to head out the door himself, his eyes managed to
catch sight of Russell who just happened to be exiting the busy library as well. As if his very life depended upon it Charles
gathered his cane and hobbled after the man straight out the building and down the stone steps.
"Hey, Russell," he yelled out.
Russell stopped and spun around. From where he was standing Charles could see the man roll his eyes at him. Immediately
Charles staggered down the steps and caught up with him right next to the playground.
Zipping up his black leather jacket, Russell grudgingly asked, "What are you doing here? Mrs. Audra said you got locked up."
"Yes, I got locked up, but that was a whole different matter." Charles carefully answered. "I wanted to talk to you."

Russell stood and studied the man as if he were disgusted with him. "Man, look, I got a really busy morning. "I ain't got time for
some jive talk."
"Hold on, hold on now." Charles halted him. "I wanted to talk with you about the other day."
Snickering, Russell said, "Man, I was drunk the other day. Forget everything I said."
"No, you weren't drunk. You and I didn't meet by accident."
Russell ceased his every movement right then. Even the sharp wind that whistled through the courtyard didn't seem to faze him.
"I, too, have been seeing a lot of things these past few months."
Russell stared before asking, "Things like what?"
"Let's just say that...whatever it was, it got my full attention. I don't know up from down or right from left anymore, but I do know
that God—
"Man, I don't wanna hear nothin' about God!" Russell erupted.
"Hold on! You're acting just like my son used to!" Charles caught him by the arm.
"Where was God when I was over there in 'Nam? I ain't heard from him yet!"
"Your problem was just like mine. You want answers now and not tomorrow. Life doesn't work that way, Youngblood." He sternly
responded. "You have to learn to wait and make better decisions."
"Better decisions?" Russell frowned.
"Your decision to leave your family," Charles bluntly stated.
At that very moment Russell stood back from Charles in an indignant fashion, looking as if he wanted to rear back and punch
him.
"My boy made some kind of bad decision in his life. I honestly don't know what he was up to, and I'll probably never find out in
this lifetime, but I do know that...we may go through the fire for a while, but eventually, God brings us all back home." Charles
explained in a sobering voice.

Russell stuffed his hands inside his jacket pockets while gazing around at all the children. "I...I miss my daughter, man." He
sniffed. "But I just can't go back to her all messed up like this."
"You're not so messed up if you can admit that you're a mess." Charles said. "I messed up a lot in my time. Quit thinking that
you're beyond redemption, that you're so evil. Because believe me when I say, I've seen true evil...face to face."
Russell dropped his head in a defeated manner. He then looked back up at Charles asking, "So, what's been going on all this
time?"
Charles looked hard at the man. "I don't know for sure." He mumbled. "I don't even know if it's all over or not. But I'm not waiting
around anymore to be swallowed up. My crippled self is going to keep fighting on."
Russell snickered, "Man, get outta here!"
Laughing himself, Charles said, "Shoot, I bet you've never seen someone move as fast on a cane as you have me, now have
you?"
"Nope, not lately," Russell laughed back.
The two carried on a bit more before Charles said, "Look, I gotta go down to the hardware store and get that fuse for your icebox.
But before I do that, I need to get some real breakfast. That jailhouse food never changes. It's always been torture."
As the two began walking away, Russell couldn't help but to inquire, "So you've been locked up before, huh?"
"Hey, we don't talk about that." Charles chuckled.
"Excuse me, Mr. Mercer!"
Charles and Russell stopped and turned around to see a man steadily walking towards them. The closer the man approached,
Charles could see a warm smile pushing its way through his thick beard.
"Can I help you, sir?" Charles cautiously asked.
With a right hand extended, the man greeted, "Good day, the name's Mike O'Dea, formerly of the Cypress Police Department."
Charles examined the unkempt man up and down for a moment before saying, "Is that right?"

"Yes, sir," O'Dea lodged his hands inside his coat pockets while glancing around the chaotic courtyard. "I have to admit that I just
love these cool, fall mornings. Don't you?"
Suspiciously nodding and grinning, Charles said, "Yes, it's not too bad. How can I help you, sir?"
"Well, sir, perhaps if you and I could have a moment alone." O'Dea happened to glance at Russell.
"I, uh, I'll meet you back at the apartment." Russell timidly spoke up.
Pointing at Russell, Charles looked at O'Dea and adamantly replied, "This here is my friend. Whatever you have to say to me
you can say in front of him."
Blushing, O'Dea remarked behind a grin, "Very well. You're a very hard man to find these days, Mr. Mercer. I meant to visit you
while you were in the hospital, but the last time I visited someone there, well, let's just say that it didn't turn out too well."
"I wasn't aware that I was being sought after." Charles sulked. "My time in the hospital was a very trying moment in my life, Mr.
O'Dea. A moment I'd rather not revisit if it's all the same to you."
"I can definitely understand that. But I certainly didn't catch up with you just to waste your time."
"Well, what did you come here for then?"
"Mr. Mercer, I don't believe in luck. Not anymore at least. I truly believe that me catching you here was meant to happen." O'Dea
stepped a bit closer to Charles. "I'm gonna cut right to the chase. I was the inspecting officer for your son's murder."
Charles froze solid right where he was standing. Even his muscles wouldn't dare budge at that point. All he could do was stare
ice at the man.
"The last thing I want to do is uncover old wounds. But I really need to speak with you concerning this matter."
"What on earth is there to discuss on the matter?"
O'Dea glanced around the courtyard before looking back at Charles and saying, "Well, it concerns the animal attacks that took
place both this past summer, as well as back in February."
"And just how did my son fit into all of that?" Charles began to fidget. "Better yet, if you are no longer with the police department,
why are you still stuck on a closed case?"

"Well, Mr. Mercer, because I don't believe the case is fully closed. Over the course of the past few months a lot of strange
occurrences have taken place, most notably, your son somehow escaping the clutches of the animal that murdered Leroy
Cummins. That awful incident inside Ms. Glover's residence in which an animal was heard within. And then, this past summer
with all the murders."
"Once again, sir, how does my son fit into all of this?"
"All these months I have been scouring through all sorts of evidence, clues and whereabouts into the case. I've visited Leroy
Cummins' home. I've been to Hollis Estates. I even paid a visit to Ms. Glover's house recently. Were you aware that three boys
were found mutilated inside that house?"
Charles' stomach right then dropped before he gasped, "No...no I did not."
"That's right. Don't you find it curious that perhaps there is something very...what's the word? Creepy? Still taking place with all of
this?"
"Creepy sounds like an old hippie word, if you don't mind me saying." Charles replied.
Snickering, O'Dea remarked, "While I myself am no friend of flower power, we're almost at the dawn of a new decade; the hippie,
much like the dinosaur, is all but extinct."
"Perhaps so, but I can't seem to bring myself to dwell on such matters anymore. I was just telling my friend here before you
showed up that my son made some bad choices in life. But now, all of that doesn't matter anymore."
"Just what kind of choices did your son happen to make, Mr. Mercer?"
"Hold on," Charles put his hand in the air. "Like you said, us meeting like this was no accident. I've been going through some
very tumultuous things myself these past few months as well. Till this day I can't explain any of what was going on with my son,
those animal attacks, or what took place with those boys at that house. God be with their souls. But I am assured of this, after all
the dust has settled, I, too, can now go home."
Batting his eyelashes, O'Dea uttered, "I don't understand."
"Neither do I, sir. But I think we all just need to go home."

As Charles began to turn and walk away, O'Dea caught the man by his left arm. Charles, with a look of utter disbelief, stared
down at the man's hand before O'Dea finally removed it.
Nearing closer to Charles' face, O'Dea urgently whispered, "I need this. I've been going crazy all over this city trying to piece all
of this together. The last inspector and his entire family were killed a few months back over what he discovered in the matter. You
didn't see the look in that man's eyes. You didn't see the look in Detective Bruin's eyes the day after your son's murder. This
goes far deeper than some wild animal killings. This is all I have left."
Charles just looked at the man with the most dismal expression for a few moments. "Then, sir, this will be your cross to bear. I no
longer want it." He calmly stated. "My son...my dear son, is home."
Right then, O'Dea paused, and with bugged out eyes began peering off into the distance behind Charles. Charles spun around
and looked past the scores of children to see a police car cruising by the courtyard. Without as much as a goodbye O'Dea
immediately took off in the opposite direction. Charles turned around and began walking away across the playground with
Russell right beside him. The man was determined not to allow the weight of the odd conversation to overwhelm him.
"What the hell was that all about, man?" Russell kept glancing backwards.
"He's in God's hands now." Charles simply replied without looking back.
As they walked on, Charles' attention couldn't help but to be snagged by three little black schoolgirls who were playing double
dutch in the middle of the playground while singing rhymes to each other. All Charles wanted to do was stand and watch. Every
word the girls sang out loud only seemed to make his already cold skin all the more stiff.
The more his watery eyes observed the girls there seemed to appear amongst them a lone little black boy who wore only a pair
of blue jeans, black sneakers, a shirt and a red cape. He was running around the playground without a bit of restraint in his merry
stride. His arms spread eagle as he soared from the jungle gym to the tetherball pole. Charles focused on the boy and only the
boy, everyone else within the vicinity was absent. And that was exactly how he wanted it, just a few sweet moments with the
careless child before he vanished away.
Charles held back the tear that wanted to drop from his right eye. Soon, the sights and sounds from the playground returned with
a rushing gust. The man gripped his cane as tightly as possible right as the three girls' nursery rhyme came to an end the very
instant their school bus arrived at the curb.
Charles looked on and on, but the caped little boy was nowhere else to be seen amongst the gathering of costumed children that
were boarding their waiting bus.

"You okay, man?" Russell stood beside him and asked.
Clearing his parched throat, Charles answered, "Yeah...I guess I am. I'm just thankful that the children are okay, too. Please,
God...be with the children."
"Man, I don't trust the fuzz, no matter what color they come in." Russell remarked.
"It's not the police that are the problem. That man has other burdens that he has to iron out. He can either turn it over to Jesus,
or be one of the walking dead."
Russell then turned to Charles, and with a stiff face he asked the man, "So...do you really believe my story from the other day? I
mean, I don't wanna sound like I'm losing my mind, but it all looked so real to me."
Charles, with a pained grimace on his face, plainly responded, "Unfortunately...yes, my friend. Yes I do."
The two of them stood and stared at one another for a few silent moments before parting eyes and turning down the sidewalk.
As they resumed their walk, Russell wrapped his jacket's collar more securely around his neck.
"Man, I can already tell it's gonna be another freezing cold winter, and it's still fall." Russell grumbled.
"It's been a lot colder, son. A whole lot colder."