He ate sausage and pancakes, with coffee. He was relieved, somehow. Under-rating in the ‘illusion’ of freedom. He’d been a ‘fighter’ all his life, and now things were different, an auspice, and a derision... He decided to go out for a walk and check out his motor-bike. He knew eventually, he’d have to leave-to ‘escape’. ‘Lt. Garr, bugged-out at 0700 hours, you’re going-home.’ David felt-unnerved as if something ‘simple’ had been made ‘complex’. He felt something ‘basic’ had been interfered-with. Being an obstacle to what was normal. He had dreamed about flames eating him and his men, he always awoke resolved as if, as usual.
It had been rumored the President would end the war. He’d watched it on TV, of protestors burning the American-flag. Interstitial-in this was how each day someone was lighting fire in protest. He’d once been asked what was the ‘worst’ power-force in their arsenal and he said ‘Nepam’. And within months the antiwar politicians and humor-plight was calling, for its, disuse. David answered, it was highly dangerous yet nothing but nukes was as powerful. David was thinking-on his brother and how he was doing. He remembered his love-for him.
How he’d stood up to his problems at his insistence… David had always been there for him. A good-helper with a young boy incentived and disciplined by a strong-brother. He took him fishing after their parents death and though he was glad to be with a big-brother who’d he had always wanted to be there, and he was. …Bo Jon wanted to be thorough, and he was; the little-contingents had began to appear and come into focus as a whole ‘new-picture’. And Chris, and is role was becoming bigger. What had been a trickle become infused and allotted. Endearing, dimension and vocal, Bo Jon with-every motion was being objectified, and installed. He had to pursue David, if he was to bring an end to this strange personal ‘Malay’.
Bo had been impressed elementally, that David was adversively and inherently, being ‘apposed’ to a divesting-of, by what was a duly… What David did was capitulating, a destined-duty based in an elaborate noting trial, and convening; of catherized capitulation and composing… An engineering precipitousness, in an inherently, honored-law. Like most war-syndrome-afflicted, he-had been broke; and in-time, without help; he’d be flaring-up again.
He informed the office-pool at Seattle Detective Bureau, detailed were David had been seen and forgingly, ‘spelled-out’ what had occurred. David knew he-could never go home again but he was not going to give-up. He wanted to see what this country was made-of, and if his duties were as a true-guardian; it might give him a ‘pass’ somehow, before his final-demise. He realized he’d levied a notion perhaps its could-offer him refuge, for a time.
How would a dispatch of David, at his acts, be resolved? It was a sure-implication of him and Bo Jon, his-brother and his long-honorable and dutiful-history might save him from ultimate-death... David decided to head East, he met with some new-friends working the vegetable fields with immigrants...
For now, David’s life was in the hands in those of simplest-need… He-ate dinner with their-families. A meal of corn, tomatoes and pig-ears. He made $10 a day and it being Fall the work was plentiful. After over a week David had over $100 enough to fuel his bike for the ride to Texas. He made new friends, listened to stories of survival and enlisted, information about how to live-in along the Gulf coast. He worked hard to understand what it was like to live off the land... He loaded his bike on a truck, given a ‘free’-ride and rode the way into the state.
Then a customer spoke-on the killing of 5-men high in the Washington mountain-range. He seemed livid and astounded, ‘And they say he was a government-guy; brought-in to work as an officer, can you believe it, one of their own…’ David drank his coffee, and the two left. The long-ride into Texas went through Lubbett, Waco and Houston and let David off in the oil-fields were the driver had to do paperwork. He introduced him to a rig crewman. ‘...You any good at oil-field-work?’
David said he had Hazmat experience he was put on temporary pipeline-duty. Making sure all the tanks were loaded. David made $160.00 a day. Within the month he was mildly wealthy it was incomparable to his level-6 U.S.F.S. Attaché, but it put a roof over his head and food in his stomach; he made friends before long he was able to save a-bit… Bo Jon followed-up on the lead of Jesse Fores. He said he’d seen people do strange things all the time and the man in the dumpster was no different.
The truck was a model of car-repair, pick-up truck in Santa Anita valley. He got the address and went to inquire… Jesse thanked him, for his help. “Not many would help a street runner”. ‘All my life I’d met people too caught-up and confused about life, I could have helped them, as me…Thank you.’ Bo told him to do good about his mother and she should get better. Bo had set up a ‘watershed’; it was now his priority to capture David Garr. He’d found-out as much as he could. He knew his-profile, actions and motives, now he had to use them to both ‘knot-hole’ him in a least provocative way. …He was an astute-sleuth and court-legalist. With the influences at his control he might be able to put the ‘rabbit-in-the-hole’, with little-difficulty...
...Yet the allusion was how would a fugitive being peg for mass-murder and federal-renegade-ship, be deposed from that tantamount-sort of trepidation. It had been wrote about in the Bible many times the Sins of Kings and a pious ending being derailed and facing the Wrath of God. This case, was not so simple. Emerging from the whole tragedy, vengeance, fear and as, is possible, being ‘repaid’ by the deaths. Yet this wasn’t biblical times. The evidence was growing, and a team of law-keepers were ruminating and tossing about fault, fears and blame.
As Bo Jon drove his ‘57 pink Cadillac, he thought on symmetry-issues. Fathoming the fostering-of heinousness… In the emboldened-circumstance, the ideals were set. Idiom and encroachment were dallying in-framed in figment and friction, the kind of remission that put men, on death-row… Yet that was the negative-reality, in most good cases men rarely got the Chamber. But open and obviously incursion was nearly, open and shut. Bo Jon wanted to see punishment served, yet he knew when he met Chris, he was no-ordinary criminal.
He’d seen good-men walk the ‘green-mile’ and some truly, abhorrent and calculative-violators, go free. Bo had coordinated and advised-on the case, when it was still ‘virtual’; he moved fast and now some of his colleagues he’d upped-upon; were going into legal-preliminary-to fast... They then advised him that if the case got less through the media, he’d have to be on the mend pretty, quickly.
‘David, you from Houston?’, said a worker-who, like him, worked the tankers. ‘No, I’m from Los Angeles.’ ‘What brought you here?’ ‘A truck…’ ‘No silly, why’d you come here?’ …’Most people like California, and those that don’t are trying to leave something behind…’ ‘I came to work, I used to work as an cucumber crops-man…’ ‘I needed the money.’ His coworker, Tom Thurman, was a six-year tanker man, he’d gotten the job after the military gave him permanent-disability. He was a Sergeant, stationed at Ft. Lauderdale... ‘I came to escape taxes…”(humor) David laughed, and understood. They went to work on the in-coming tankers.
David was skilled, the oil tankers came in at 5 am about the time his elite crew would be going for exercises. …Enveloped in it, was the avoidance of flammability. He knew they went-through processing to keep the flame’s vetting-dance. He thought about the theory of fires’ in the woods. They had often practiced maneuvers on the lower Park range.
Sequoia trail, where all the trees rose at least 20-stories. He taught them about combustion. ‘With a Sequoia, fire would turn faster in canopy and the trunks would be the weakened fire spot. ...That’s why we parachute in open-terrain to find the flame’s ‘weak-point’…’ He thought on how truly majestic the trees were. How their mighty rise would be compromised in a-’weakening’… It was one of the few times he considered nature against the all-powerful-flames.
The oil was draining fast and he had-to close-off, and set the trucks ready for rele
ase. ...Men in a control tower gave the ‘OK’ to move on to the next one. ...He thought on how oil and Napam were petroleum-based. How ‘oil’, was less purified and burned with ‘sootiness’. He’d used petroleum often in-machination and how it wasted energy. He-smelled the stinch, the deeply crude-scent. He hadn’t seen any ignitions, lately.
He knew his job, was a to prevent-it. ...Napam cleared the sinuses while petroleum burnt the eyes. And that it ‘turned’ easily. And how, when he was young, was taught oil came from stores of prehistoric plants and animals and now it could burn such things easily. ...‘No, I haven’t seen a man in a jumpsuit. Maybe one of my dispatches have…’ Bo Jon gave him his card and told him to call, if they was to have. Disturbing the natural-caste of things was forbidden in his-tribe. He felt that way about the case and several other-factors.
Yet he knew the seriousness, was as a ‘mete’. A mete of fruition, by skills. He’d have to contemplate the calculations. And those calculations had to take in the thinking of David. ...He, at-first, wanted to see his brother. Yet from phone-calls, he had not. That meant he knew it was not ‘safe’. When a criminal is not safe, he ‘hides’ in the deepest, darkest concealed-place...
And if given the chance would escape; so David had to find a place to run and hide. The first, was his place in Nevada. Yet the authorities had already cordoned-it off. Then the next best place was to stay concealed and safe finding a-familiar, if not hidden-place. He was on foot perhaps and stood-out. The first thing was to blend-in. Lost Angeles was far-from the Washington mountain range and being highly, competent you’d want not to ‘appear’ as you were…
Theories of ‘technical’ didn’t challenge Bo Jon. He had had several weeks to deduce it. Bo’s own conceptions was on how-sure and significant; he gave it three weeks and now he-realized, the 'logic' of it’s ill-certainty. Its perception, purpose and premise had to be confirming in due course, and elegy. He-remembered what a wise court-theorist, innate-in a thesis on ways-of criminal waiver, had said: ‘A criminal thinks like a criminal while withholding ‘symptoms’, a fragile-reliance on constitution, and imperil; that gives light in darkness in sanctum, semantics’…
End.
Six