Jules Hinton's Strange Trip: Chapter 11 by JCH and Kas  

         Dreaming, he was alone in a hall.  Everything was a bright white.  There was a door at the end of the hall.  He could hear something, someone calling out to him.  All of a sudden, he was standing at the door.  It opened and he walked inside.  There was someone lying on a table in what seemed to be an operating room, or a morgue, not unlike the morgue Jules had been in when he was looking for Nikki.  The body was covered by a sheet.  Jules removed it...
         He had seen only photographs of his father and most of them from twenty or twenty-five years before, but he recognized him immediately.  He was infinitely older, but he was breathing.  The man opened his eyes weakly, trying to form a sentence.
         “Save me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
         And then he and Nikki were naked, splashing each other in shallow water, playing, laughing.  There were fields of yellow around them, but in the distance... tornadoes.  But the sky was blue.  Not a cloud in it for as far as he could see.  Except for the tornadoes which seemed to Jules to be unthreatening.  She moved toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck.  She whispered something in his ear.  She loved him, she was saying.  He knew it and was glad.

         The room was moving.  That was the first thing he noticed when he woke up.  Not a motel room like he had been expecting.  A train.  #1 was sitting in a chair beside the window reading a Wall Street Journal.  His coat was draped over the back of the chair he was sitting in.  He had a holster over each shoulder and a gun in each one.  It took moment for him to realize Jules was awake.
         “Right on time,” the man said, glancing at his watch.  “Are you hungry?”
 Jules sat up in the small bed and ran his hand through his hair.  “I guess.”
         “Good.  I am too.  The bathroom is right there.  I thought you’d probably want to take a shower or something.  You were lucky last night, Mr. Hinton.  We got to you just in time.”
         “Who are you?”  It felt like a stupid thing to ask, Jules thought, like a cliché from some bad movie or something.
         The man smiled pleasantly.  “Don’t worry about that right now.  Your questions will all be answered shortly.”
         Jules stood and stretched.  He felt weak, like he did when he woke up at Dan and Sara’s cabin.  He looked at the man cautiously.  He certainly didn’t look like any of the thugs Jules had faced recently.
         “Can you believe this stock market?  Down five hundred points in one day?  Bill Gates must be a very pissed-off man today.  1987 all over again, that’s all it is.”  The man looked over the paper.  “Do you follow the market?”
         “No,” Jules replied curtly.
         #1 folded the paper carefully and put it on the table beside him.  “Listen, I know you have a lot of questions.  And they will be answered, but not all of them by me.  So just sit tight, relax and enjoy the free ride.  Do you like steak?  I thought we’d send for a couple while you were in the shower.”
         Jules glared at the man.
         There was a knock on the door and #2 entered, using his key.  He was dressed much the same as #1.  “I thought he’d be awake by now.  Is everything all right?”
         “He has a lot of questions,” #1 said.
         “Well, let’s give him some answers.  We’re taking you out of Texas.  Considering where we found you, I would think that would make you pretty happy.  We should be crossing over into Louisiana pretty soon, if we haven’t already.  We got you on board by posing as doctors transporting a patient.  We put you in a wheel chair and connected an IV up to you.  We’re eventually going to take you somewhere safe.  It may take us a little while to do that.”
         “Somewhere safe?  You kidnapped me to take me somewhere safe?  That’s real sweet.  And what was in the IV?  A little something to sedate me?”
         “Why don’t you take that shower?” #1 said.  “I’ll go get something for us to eat.”
         Jules wanted to argue with the man, but he felt too weak.  And a good steak certainly sounded good to him.  Right after a long, hot shower.
 
         Jules heard voices when he cut the water off.  No.  Only one voice.  #2 was on his cell phone.  “He woke up just like you said he would.  A little dreary, maybe, but other than that...  Yeah, he’s already asking questions.  But we knew he’d do that...  We should be getting into the station in a few hours.  We’ll meet you there.”
         There was a change of clothes for him on the back of the toilet, in his exact size.  He put them on, then walked back into the room.  #2 was reading a Time magazine.  Al Gore was on the cover.
         “So, where is this train going?  New Orleans?  Baton Rouge?”
         “It doesn’t matter.”
         “Why?  Am I going to die when I get there?”
         “We just saved you from certain death back in Texas.  Why would we do that just to kill you ourselves?”
         “I don't know.  I still haven’t figured everything out.  Like who was the guy with the face back there?  Or is that something you can’t tell me?”
         “Sit down, Mr. Hinton.  Relax.  The food will be here in a minute or two.  If you’re as hungry as I am, you could eat a whole damn cow.”  He smiled uneasily.  Trying to ease the tension, Jules thought.  He knew he wasn’t going to get any answers from him now and went to the window.  Green and brown and blue blurred into one as the train sped through a wooded area.  Jules continued staring long after it became uninteresting.  There was nothing else to do.

         The steak was good and tender, the potato was steaming hot with a good helping of butter and sour cream but the lettuce was a light shade of brown and the tea was weak.  It was still better than he had eaten in a long while.
         After they were finished, #1 spoke up.  “When we get to the station, there’s going to be someone meeting us.  They’ll have the answers you’re looking for.  Until then, why don’t you lie back down?  I imagine you’re still a little tired.”
         “I thought maybe I’d take a walk through the train.  I’ve never been on one and I thought it’d be interesting to take a look.  Maybe take a look inside the lead engine.  You know, like when they let people look in the cockpit of those big airliners?  You think they’d let me do that?”
         “Sorry.  That ain’t going to happen.  In fact, when we get off, we’re going to have to put you back in the wheel chair just like when we got on.”
         “Are you going to drug me again?”
         The two suits looked at each other.  Jules knew the answer.

         Jules was sitting on the bed with his arms folded across his chest.  This position was not entirely comfortable, what with his knife wound, but he wasn’t thinking about that.  He was only thinking about escaping.  The suits had become pretty relaxed around him, talking about their stocks and who the Republicans should nominate in 2000 to run against Gore.  They agreed Kemp was the best option for the Republicans, but thought the GOP would probably shoot themselves in the foot again by nominating an idiot like Quayle.  All the while, Jules watched them, waiting, planning.

         A few minutes later, #1 looked at his watch, then at #2.  “It’s time.”  He removed both guns from his holsters and set them on the table.  Then, he stood up and went for a leather case that was sitting on the counter beside the sink.  Jules had not seen it until then, but recognized it immediately as looking remarkably similar to the one the other guys had used.  Or tried to use.
         “It’s time for what?” Jules asked.  “More sedation?”
         “Frankly, if it was up to me, we wouldn’t be doing this.  But we have our orders.”
         “Orders?  From who?”  Jules wanted to delay him as long as he could.  #2 was still engrossed in his magazine.  #1 ignored Jules altogether as he got a needle out of the case.  Jules noticed there was a second one still in there.  #1 finished loading it up, then came toward Jules.
         “You may want to help me over here, bubba,” he said to #2.
         Jules moved quickly, kicking the needle out of his hand, then jumping on the man.  #1 had not been expecting this, allowing Jules to quickly get the better of him.  #2, meanwhile, had jumped out of his chair, but seemed utterly bewildered at what to do next.  He had not been told that Jules Hinton was an escape risk.  And then he saw the needle.  He went for it at the same time Jules did.  But Jules was closer, and got to it first.  He pushed it into #1’s neck, seemingly surprised that he had found a vein.  The man immediately went numb.
         Then, he turned around quickly to #2 who had taken his gun out and was pointing it at Jules.  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.
         “That’s funny, ‘cause I don’t give a shit what I do to you.”  Then it hit him.  If the man truly did not want to hurt Jules, then he wouldn't shoot him.  And if he wasn’t going to shoot him...  Jules moved quickly, first kicking the man in the gut, then jumping on him.  The gun flew across the room, hit the wall, then fell to the floor.
         The man wasn’t much of a fighter, Jules realized, as he easily got an upper hand on him.  A few hits to the face and the man was ready to go down.  And then Jules remembered the other holster.  He got a hand on the gun just as #2 went for it.
         “Don’t move an inch,” Jules said, pointing the gun at the man’s face.
         “Don’t shoot.  We can work this out.”
          “I tell you what we can work out.  Reach over to that case slowly.  Fill up that needle with whatever the fuck it is you’ve been feeding me.  You’re going to know how it feels now.”  Jules backed over to the table still facing #2 and got #1’s guns.  He put both of them under his shirt, then picked the other gun up off the floor.  “Let me see the needle.  Good.  I’m guessing you know what to do next.”
         The man found a vein, stuck the needle in and pulled the plunger.  It took a few seconds longer for it to kick in on him than it did #1, but the man soon slumped to the floor.  Jules made sure they were both out before sticking the guns under his shirt with the other two.  He was about to leave the room but something stopped him, a thought.  He had to get off the train.  That was obvious, but he didn’t know who could be trusted.  Any or all of the passengers could be working with whoever it was that kept having him kidnapped.  What would they do in the movies? he asked himself.
         He looked back at the two suits.  #2 was about his size, a little broader in the shoulders maybe.  Yes!  That was it.  He had to disguise himself.  He couldn’t just walk out the door and risk being recognized as the guy in the wheelchair.  That would be stupid.  Too many questions.  So, calmly and methodically, he took #2’s shirt, coat and holsters.  The pants wouldn’t be long enough, Jules knew, and the shoes would be too uncomfortable.  But that was fine.  He dressed hurriedly, and looked at his reflection in the mirror, satisfied that this was as good of a disguise as he was going to get.  He put a gun in each holster and then stuck the other two in his jeans under the jacket.
         As soon as he walked out of the room, he realized he was in the last car of the train.  In the car ahead, he could see people milling around, but no one seemed to be in this car, or either they were all in their rooms.  He stepped outside onto the back of the car.  He could jump, he thought.  That’s what everyone did in the movies.  Jump and roll.  But wouldn’t that surely hurt?  Especially with his arm, but what else was there to do?  Stay on board and surely be killed?  Or jump and take his chances?
         The train was slowing down and the whistle was blowing.  Were they coming to a stop or just passing through a town?  Jules figured it was the latter.  The train had just passed over a two lane road.  A small convenience store--aptly named The Railway Store--had just come into view behind him.  He had to get off the train fast.  What if someone found the suits?
         He didn’t think about what he was about to do, just held his breath and did it.  Jumped off a moving train.  He fell and rolled down an embankment, then stood up and ran off into the woods.  His knees were skinned up but he was more concerned with his arm, and he was sure at least one of the guns had fallen out of the holster, but he kept running.  Away.  Away.

         He had run for at least half an hour before he came to a road.  He didn’t want to be seen, but he had to get some sort of idea where he was.  Looking down the badly-paved two-lane, he saw what appeared to be a gas station/grill not far in the distance.  He eased back into the woods, headed in the direction of the store.
         A few minutes after he had jumped off the train, he had heard the whistle.  The train was further down the track now, headed on it’s way out of town and, with it, the two goons.
         He did have a problem--money.  Or the complete lack of it.  His wallet was gone, along with everything that had been in it, including his credit cards and his identification.  All of his stuff, other than what he had on him, was still in Smithee.  He cursed himself for not thinking about that sooner.  Certainly the suits had plenty of money for him to use.  But he was alive and free.  And staying that way was the most important thing to Jules right now.
         He wasn’t going back to the police.  They hadn’t been any help back in Texas.  Plus, there would be too many questions he didn’t have any answers to.  For starters, there was The Face.  Well, at least his arrest for an armed robbery he wasn’t involved in made more sense now.  But who was this guy?  And, more importantly, what did he want with Jules?  It must have been him that night in the desert and later at the inn.  But where did Nikki fit into this?  Or did she?  Maybe it was him they were after all along.  But why?  And who?
         He had to get away, somewhere to think about everything.  Dan, Sara.
         And Nikki.

         Stealing a car had been easier than he had hoped.  It was almost too easy.  There had been keys in the first car he had looked in.  Just like the motorcycle the night before.  He simply got in the car, cranked it up, and drove away, thanking whoever was responsible for good fortune with the keys.  That had been almost an hour ago.  Since then, he had found the nearest bus station, drove past it though, and ditched the car in the Walk-A-Mart parking lot with the keys still in it.  He even had the presence of mind to wipe the steering wheel and stick shift clear of finger prints with the bottom of his shirt.  And for that, he was impressed with himself, though he didn’t know if he should be.
         He walked back to the bus station from the Walk-A-Mart.  A bus left in an hour for New Orleans.  Funny.  That’s where he had been thinking of going when he left Amarillo.  God, how long ago had that been?  Years, it seemed.  He asked the man behind the counter if he could make a phone call, explaining that he didn’t have the change for the phone booth.  The man relented when Jules promised it would be a local call.  He called Tim in Virginia.
         “Jules, I’ve been worried about you.  Where have you been?  Are you still in Smithee?”
         “No, I finally got out of Texas.  Thank God.  Other than that, I’d rather not say."  What if someone was tapping the line? he wondered.  "Has Nikki called back?”
         “Wait a minute.  Tell me what’s going on.  She’s always so cryptic when she calls.”
         “I don’t think it’s such a good idea to tell you too much.  I might be putting you in danger just by calling.  All you need to know right now is that I’m all right.  Have you told anyone else about this?”
         “Are you kidding?  And have them worry about you like I’ve been?”
         “Good.  Keep it that way.  The fewer people that know about this the better.  Now, you never answered my question.  Has Nikki called?”
         “Yeah.  And she left a number.”

         “Hello.”
         “Nikki?”
         “Jules?”
         “Nikki, I can’t believe it’s you.  I just talked to Tim and he gave me this number.  Are you all right?”
         “Jules!”  There was relief in her voice mixed with excitement   “I’m fine.  I’m so glad to hear your voice.  Where are you?”
         “Somewhere in Louisiana.  I’m not exactly sure where.  We need to talk, Nikki.”
         “I know we do.  But it’s not safe for you to be out in public.  If you tell me where you are, I can make sure you get to where I am safely.”
         “I’m in a bus station in some small town near the railroad tracks.”  He looked around the bus station for some sign as to what the name was of the town he was in.  “Oh, there it is.  Lucas.  Lucas, Louisiana.  Does that sound familiar?”
         “Not of the top of my head.  Listen, you need to get out of the bus station.  That would be the first place they’ll go looking for you.  Do you have any money?”
         “No.”
         “O.K.  Here’s what you do...”

         The money from Western Union came quicker than he thought it.  As Nikki had told him, he got bus tickets in his name to Dallas, Little Rock, Atlanta and Miami.  Then, he walked out of the bus station back to the Walk-A-Mart.  With the money that Nikki had wired him, he bought some new clothes and ditched the ones he was wearing in a trash can.  He bought a Saints hat and put it on, tucking his hair underneath.  He rooted through a few of the stores connected to the big Walk-A-Mart, always trying to stay in a crowd and not draw too much attention to himself.  Then, he went back to the main store, to the Snack Bar and waited there with an order of nachos and a 32 ounce drink.
         An hour later, a woman’s voice came over the loud speaker, blocking out a muzak version of “Losing My Religion,” “Allan Irelands, you have a phone call at the service desk.  Allan Irelands, you have a phone call at the service desk.”
         Every eye was on him, he thought, as he walked to the service desk and said, “I’m Allan Irelands.”  The woman pushed the phone across the counter to Jules without ever looking directly at him.  “Hello.”
         “I’m guessing you’re still in one piece.”  Nikki.
         “Physically, yes.  Emotionally, I’m not so sure.”
         “It’s almost over.  In a few minutes, a black Lincoln Continental will pull up in front of the store.  It’ll be a limo.  You’re to get in the back.  The driver will know where to take you.  Just sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.”
         Jules thought he had heard that somewhere before.  “But...”
         “He’ll bring you to where I am.  Then, I’ll answer your questions.  Is the car there yet?”
         It had just pulled up to the front door.  “Yeah.”
         “I’ll see you soon then.  I can’t wait.”
         “Me neither.”
         Dial tone.

         Jules first thought as he got into the limousine and sat in the comfortable leather seat was, ‘My first time on a train and in a stretch limo and all on the same day.’  He wished they had been under better circumstances.  The driver pulled away from the Walk-A-Mart and the small gathering of people who had stopped to see who was going to get into or out of a limo had gone back to doing whatever they were doing before, satisfied that Jules was no one except a guy with a hundred dollars to waste trying to impress people he didn’t know by renting a stretch job.
         The tinted partition separating the driver from the back was up.  Jules had pushed a button that looked like should control it, but the glass did not move.  He pushed another button that was positioned over a label that read Intercom.
         “Excuse me.  Where are we going?”
         But there was no reply.  He repeated himself.  Again, no reply.  “Just sit back, relax and enjoy the ride” Nikki had said.  He was dead tired.  It had been five or six hours since waking up on the train and a lot had happened since then.  It couldn’t hurt anything to lean back and shut his eyes for a few minutes,  maybe even to drift off.  If Nikki had sent the driver, Jules knew he could at least be trusted to not to try to kidnap him or anything.  Couldn’t he?

         Jules wasn’t sure how long he had been out, but it was already getting dark outside by the time he woke up.  The limo was traveling at a high rate of speed down a two-lane road, best described by Jules as a “country back road.”
         “Relax, Mr. Hinton,” a voice came from a speaker on the console under the partition.  “We’re almost there.”
         Jules wanted to know where “there” was, but knew he would not get a response if he asked.  He let out a sigh and peered out of the black window as the world sped by.  What a wild time it had been this last few weeks.  He chuckled slightly, amused at himself for already thinking about it in the past tense.  Well, not quite yet.  Almost.  Maybe his mood was brightening at the prospect of seeing Nikki again.  Of making sure she was all right...
         But there was a nagging feeling just under the surface.  Nothing made sense anymore.  Who was the guy with his face?  Where were Dan and Sara?  Were they even alive?  He massaged the bridge of his nose, trying to put it all out of his mind.  Too many unanswered questions.  Everything he knew in life, everything he had always held so dear to himself, must be re-examined, he thought.  The way people treat each other.  The whole concept of whether people were generally good or evil, a debate he had gotten into on more than one occasion with Tim, and, well, now he had to confess that he was starting to see it from a different perspective.  It wasn’t like he had ever done anything to these people.  Not that he knew of anyway.  It struck him as odd that the nicest people he had met during the whole ordeal, Nikki excluded, and Ed, the people who had offered to help him no questions asked--and probably got themselves killed for their generosity--had been a bunch of militia members.  Lunatics, as he may have called them at one time, before he had met any of them.  Before he met Dan and Sara.
         The car began slowing and Jules craned his neck to see why.  He saw a sign of some sort, brick like the one at the entrance to his neighborhood back in Virginia, sitting among some shrubbery.  Very nicely clipped, he thought.  As if he were some sort of expert on landscaping.  He struggled to read the lettering on it: Private Plantations.  The car came to a stop in front of a large security gate and a man dressed in an ill-fitting uniform stepped to the driver’s side window.  Jules assumed the driver was showing him some kind of identification.
         It looked more like a resort complex of some kind, he thought, as the car eased down the narrow black-top driveway.  On each side of the car, there were small houses.  Cabins.  But expensive cabins.  Or cabanas.  The grass was the greenest green he had ever seen to be real.  The trees were huge, with branches and leaves hanging over the road.  Did the driver have the wrong place? he wondered.  As soon as he had thought that, he saw her.  He saw Nikki standing in front of a big three story house.  It didn’t fit somehow.  The house, that is, with the other cabanas.  It all looked like something that Robin Leach might describe on his TV show.  Nikki.  She was standing with an older gentleman.  Looking just as he had remembered.  Without the black eye.  Standing behind them by about fifteen feet were two stern looking jock types in expensive looking suits.  Bodyguards.
         The car came to a stop and Nikki jerked the door open, throwing her arms around him before he could step out of the car.  “I never thought I’d see you again,” she said, not relenting her grip on him.
         “I never thought you’d see me again either,” he admitted, his eyes drawn to the men behind her.
         Finally, she released her grip and allowed him to get out of the car.  There was an awkward moment as he thought she was about to introduce him to the older man.  The mood was interrupted only when the driver spoke up.  “Sir, do you need me for anything more?”
         “No, James.  Take the car around back, then take the rest of the day off.”  The man looked at Jules, a slight smile forming at the sides of his mouth.  “Imagine that.  I have a driver named James.”
         “And your name would be?”
         “Oh, I’m sorry,” Nikki said.  “Jules, this is my friend, Gerald Johnson.  He owns this place.  It used to his family's plantation back in the 1800s.  It hadn’t been fully operational in some time.  He restored the house and turned the rest of it into a resort back in the 80s.”
         “Jules, it’s good to meet you.  I’m glad you got here in one piece.  Nikki was on pins and needles until you called earlier today.  She was back in Texas for a little while until I talked her into coming back here.  It wasn’t safe out there.  But I guess that goes without saying.”  He motioned them to follow him into the house.  The guards stayed at the front door, outside.  “Can I offer you anything to drink?  I have a full bar.  Used to be a bartender in the 50s and early 60s.  Before I moved my interests to other areas.”  He winked at Jules as he said this.  Other areas.
         “I could really use a Tom Collins.”
         “Ah, don’t hear that ordered much.  Nikki?”
         “Nothing for me.”
         They sat at the bar as Gerald mixed two drinks.  Nikki put her arm around Jules.
         “What happened to your arm?”
         “I got stabbed a few days ago,” Jules replied.  “Jumping off a moving train today probably didn’t help matters out that much.”
         She stood up and wrapped her arms around him.  The older man seemed to be watching them thoughtfully out of the corner of his eye.
         “Well, the good news is that you’re here now,” Gerald said.  “I know you probably have a lot to talk about, but it’ll have to wait.  I’m having the cook prepare a seafood menu tonight just for us.  Then, I’ll let Nikki give you a tour of the grounds.  And later, we’ll go through this mess y’all are in.  I have a couple of ideas about how to bring it all to an end once and for all.”  His pager went off and he brought it out of his pocket, squinting to see the small LED numerals.  “But first, let’s go eat.  That was the chef.  And he’ll be rather angry if we’re not there pronto.  Nikki, why don’t you take him to my office to get cleaned up?”
         She led him through a door in the back to a room that Jules thought was too small to be Gerald’s office.  When she closed the door, she clung herself to him once again.  This time, she felt the bulge under his jacket.
         “Guns?  I never pictured you as the type.”
         “No, but I picked them up off these guys pretty cheap.  Listen, who is this Gerry guy?  Someone from your past in New York?”
         “You know about that?  I mean, obviously you do.  Actually, he is.  One of the few decent people I met up there.  He said if I ever needed anything, all I had to do was ask.  Well, I asked.  If you know about New York, you probably have a lot of questions.  Am I right?”
         “Oh, you’re right about that.  See, I was in a little police station in Texas looking for you and the cop there told me some interesting news.  Turns out you’re dead.  I have to admit, though, you look pretty good for a corpse.”
         There was a knock on the door and Gerald stuck his head in.  “Come on, people.  Cook’s getting restless.”
         Jules and Nikki looked at each other for a long moment.  “You heard the man,” he said.  “Don’t want to piss the cook off.”
 

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