Aftermath of the Reckoning

Chapter 19

Invigorated by the cool fall air and faint smell of bonfire nearby, Zoey walked quickly after leaving the clinic. She did not check for cars when crossing South Main Street onto Ruth Street. To her right, a Chrysler Town & Country minivan sat on damaged rims and flat tires in the grass of the road’s shoulder. Further behind it, the door of a dark colored Toyota Corolla hung out to the side at an odd angle, providing entrance to curious vines and other plant life.

Once she reached Edward Street, Zoey stepped from the pavement into the overgrown grass and weeds that now comprised the yard of a nearby abandoned house. The nearly full moon illuminated her path though her own familiarity with this sub quarter mile stretch would have guided her even in complete darkness.

Crossing Walnut Street, Zoey advanced directly toward the back sliding glass door of Pennyworth’s house. Candle light spilled out onto the wooden deck revealing an assortment of petunias and impatiens that had not yet relinquished their blooms to the changing weather.

Zoey knocked on the glass door three times in quick succession. After waiting a few seconds, she knocked again. “Pennyworth! I’m at the back door!”

Zoey gripped the cold metal handle of the door and pulled. Unlocked, the door slid open, though not without the unattractive sound of metal grating against metal. Zoey’s mouth watered as the aroma of cooked deer meat wafted outside. “I’m coming in!”

The hardwood floors creaked under Zoey’s weight as she passed by a zebra striped velvet sofa and wooden chairs in the dimly lit living room. Brighter light emanating from the open kitchen doorway reflected off old and yellowing floral wallpaper.

“Pennyworth, it smells delicious and —”

Zoey arrived at the entrance of the kitchen and stopped, staring at a the back of a man who should not be in Pennyworth’s house. Standing over a cast iron wood-burning stove, Johansen scooped generous helpings of rice, lima beans and venison onto three earthenware plates.

Without turning around, Johansen said, “And you’re starving right? Of course you are. Please, come, take a plate.”

Zoey’s right hand instinctively reached behind her back and grasped the ribbed bone handle of Amaretto’s double edged knife. It extended sideways from a leather sheath clasped to her belt. “Where’s Pennyworth?”

Johansen turned around with a steaming plate of food and his eyes darted to her hands. “Now Zoey, I’m sure Pennyworth would not appreciate violence in his home.”

Zoey, face devoid of all emotion, regarded Johansen with the harshness of an arctic winter. “Where IS he?”

Johansen smirked. “He’s feeling a bit ill tonight, but wanted to ensure you and your friend received proper hospitality. And so here I am, always willing to serve.”

“I will ask this one more time. Where is Pennyworth? You have five seconds to respond with the truth.”

No longer able to contain his mirth, Johansen chuckled. “Zoey, this is why I like you so much. However, you will not attack me, that is, if you hope to see your friend live a long and healthy life.”

Zoey’s eyes popped open as a burst of epinephrine automated her movements. Within a second, she appeared behind Johansen. The plate shattered, impacting the ceramic tiling of the kitchen floor at roughly the same time as Johansen’s knees. Food spilled everywhere.

With his head in a chokehold and cold steel pressing dangerously against the back of his neck, Johansen struggled to speak. “It has come to my attention...that Patch has accidentally received a very large dose...of radioactive iodine. Unfortunately...by now this has completely destroyed his thyroid gland. Unless I provide a daily dose of thyroxine...he will become very sick...and eventually fall into a coma and die.”