Byron Starr - Doppelgänger

Without a word, Jana huffily crossed her arms and sat back in her seat. That bastard. The bag had been half empty, and like he could talk anyway. He was pushing three hundred pounds.

When James arrived home he found he had failed to tell Greg that Lady was inside the house. There was a large amount of uneaten dog food on the back porch, and an enormous mess in the house. Living on scraps out of the trash and toilet bowl water for several days, Lady had made quite a mess in the house. Garbage and dog crap was scattered all over the kitchen and the living room.

After taking a couple of hours to clean up Lady’s mess, James took a long look around his old familiar home. He found the place just as depressing as it had been before he’d been arrested, back when he had almost convinced himself to chew on the business end of his double-barrel shotgun. The quiet stillness bothered James. He almost wished he were back in the county jail; at least there was noise there, and fewer depressing memories.

James decided that getting out of the house would be the best thing for him. He would go into town and visit Guy at the shop. However, no sooner had James gotten out of his seat than a knock came at the door. Even though it was broad daylight, the knock brought on a brief moment of anxiety. James imagined a hideous creature with terrible long claws and teeth on the other side of the door. He hesitantly eased over to the door. When he looked through the peephole, he saw the distorted image of a tall, heavyset blond woman. Behind her was a man carrying a large shoulder-mounted camera.

“Mr. Taylor, this is Jana Parish with Current Edition. We would like to have a word with you.”

Damn.

James couldn’t leave now; he’d have to wait until they were gone. He returned to the living room and plopped down on the couch. He sat silently petting Lady, afraid to turn on the TV for fear that they would see it from the window. For quite some time the woman continued to bang on the door saying, “I know you’re in there,” and “It will only take a few minutes,” and “We want to get your side of the story,” and so on. This went on for about ten minutes, then it petered out to just an occasional knock on the door and a “Mr. Taylor,” then after another five minutes there was silence. James tiptoed up to the door and looked out the peephole. Now they were parked on the shoulder of the road in front of his house. Well, at least they were out of his yard. Still, he felt like he was under siege in his own house.

James lay down on the couch, this time turning on the TV. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

Two hours later James woke to a horrible smell. Lady, who had eaten more than her share of dogshit and garbage over the last few days of being locked in the house, was breathing directly into his face. As soon as James’ eyes opened, Lady ran to the front door, then ran back in a hurry. She frantically repeated this action over and over as if to say, If you don’t want another mess to clean up you had better let me out right now!

James got up and walked to the door, but when he took a look out the peephole he saw the van was still outside.

Damn!

James led Lady to the back door.

Once outside, she immediately shot out into the back yard and took care of her business. As soon as she was finished, Lady picked up a stick, brought it onto the porch, and dropped it at James’ feet.

“Is that supposed to be a hint, girl?” James reached down and picked up the stick and threw it. Lady took off after it, grabbing the stick and bringing it back with her head high and her tail wagging furiously. “Good girl,” James said, taking the stick from her mouth for another toss.

It hadn’t dawned on James how long it had been since he’d done something so simple as playing fetch with his dog. It felt good. James and Lady continued to play and, slowly but surely, James began to feel more relaxed.

All good things must come to an end, however. James had just tossed the stick once more when he saw the Current Edition reporter and her cameraman coming around the corner of the house. The reporter was trying her best to hurry, but she was obviously not used to wearing high heels in soft ground and was stumbling every step of the way.

“Mr. Taylor, if we could just have a word,” she managed to say as she stumbled clumsily toward the back porch.

“C’mon, Lady. Let’s go inside.” Lady quickly returned and darted inside, taking the stick in with her. James followed her in without saying a word to the unwelcome intruder. He locked the door behind him. This time the reporter didn’t bang on the door. She returned to the van with her cameraman and they continued their stakeout.

After a little more TV, James bedded down for the night, once again on the couch.

Although there was a Texas Ranger stationed in Jasper, only fifteen miles from Newton, Sam Jones, the Senior Captain of the Texas Rangers, was originally a native of Newton County and a good friend of Sheriff Bill Oates besides. He came down from Austin to personally see if he could lend a hand.

Sam Jones was one of the living legends of Texas law enforcement. Sam had served in the Marine Corps’ during the Korean War. He was a nineteen-year-old second lieutenant when he first set foot on the Korean Peninsula in 1950. In 1953, Sam came home a decorated war hero. He remained in the Marines until 1957, when he went into law enforcement. Sam was a State Trooper from 1958 till 1960, and his status as a war hero helped him become temporarily attached to the Secret Service as bodyguard to Lyndon Johnson through his Vice Presidency and Presidency. Upon his return to Texas in 1973, Sam joined the elite law enforcement branch of the State of Texas, the Texas Rangers, and had been there ever since.

Now seventy years old, Sam was well past the normal retirement age, but he was an old bachelor who had known nothing but the military and law enforcement all of his life. Retirement was probably the only thing in his entire career he had ever feared. Everyone who worked with, or even around, Sam knew the R-word was not to be mentioned in his presence.

Sam Jones was a bear of a man, the type of man that was just plain big all over. He stood a full six foot four inches tall, weighed two hundred and seventy pounds, and despite his age, most of his extra weight was still muscle. Not that Sam was the same, lean, mean fighting machine who had fought in the hills of Korea — he had put on quite a few pounds since his Marine Corps days, but his chest still managed to extend further than his belly. Beneath his white Stetson, Sam had no hair at all. He had started going bald some time around the middle of his military career and had just decided to shave it all off. He liked how it looked and kept the style.

Underneath Sam’s brown western-cut sports jacket was an old.45 automatic in a shoulder holster — the very same pistol Sam had used as an officer in Korea. The Battle of Chosin back in 1950 has the distinction of being one of the coldest battles man has ever fought. During one of the many engagements in that horrible battle, masses of Chinese troops charged up the hill defended by an outnumbered Marine battalion that included Sam’s own platoon. The soldiers, Chinese and American alike, found almost all of their guns had their breaches frozen shut and were useless, and the few rifles and machine guns that weren’t frozen became so after firing off their first ammo clip. Sam had kept his pistol inside his uniform using his body heat to keep it warm. As the Chinese soldiers charged his position, he held his fire, then drew his pistol from his coat at the last possible moment, firing point blank into the onrushing Chinese soldiers, killing four and wounding another before taking a bayonet in the hip. The ensuing melee had more in common with medieval warfare than that of the twentieth century. In the end, the Marine battalion held the hill, although they suffered well over seventy-five percent casualties. Sam’s heroics that day won him the Purple Heart and the Silver Star for bravery, as well as a promotion to first lieutenant, and his continued rapid promotion to Lieutenant Colonel before the war was over.