The voice was frantic. "I'm scared."
"Hang on one second," David Larkins said. He held the phone away with his hand over the receiver. "I'll be there in a minute," he called to his wife, Diana, waiting in the dining room. They had dinner reservations downtown. He leaned in from the kitchen. "I have a call."
Diana sighed. "I heard the phone ring."
She wore a white cotton dress cut above the knee. Exactly five feet tall, she had a tiny waist, long brown hair, and fawn brown eyes. At age forty-two, she could pass for thirty.
They were soulmates, she had often said during their sixteen-year marriage, fated to be together through many lives. Each would be lost without the other.
David, at age forty-seven, had thick brown hair and blue eyes with squint lines in the corners. He had been raised Catholic, but Vietnam had made him lose faith in a higher power and life after death. He loved Diana and would die for her. That meant more to him than attached souls.
"It's Les Campbell."
Diana nodded and lit a cigarette. "I knew that." She exhaled smoke. "We'll be late. You know how you get when you have to wait in line."
"I know, but I can't hang up on him."
David and Les had been in the same Marine Corps unit, and during the past ten years they had worked together for the Veterans Administration counseling veterans on jobs and benefits.
Les retired early due to complications from a Vietnam gunshot wound. After his wife died of cancer, he had a cabin built down in Owenton, Kentucky, an hour south of Cincinnati. He had moved in two months ago. Les called at least twice a week, complaining about life, and always sounding ready to cry.
David put the phone to his ear as he leaned back into the kitchen. "What's the matter, Les?"
"I was out on my back steps last night and heard screaming."
"People screaming?"
"More like an animal bellow, sort of like the time we had to shoot that water buffalo in Nam."
"You're down in wild kingdom, you know."
"It sounded like an animal being torn in pieces. A smell like rotten meat or dead bodies drifted up out of the valley. It was pretty damn weird."
"Did you call the police?"
"No. I didn't know what to do."
"Report it. Do they have a county sheriff down there?"
"I think so."
"See what they say. Maybe there were other calls."
David listened to his friend breathe for several seconds.
"We need to go, honey," Diana said.
David nodded, waving her off.
"I've got a horrible feeling," Les said. "Like I had the day I got shot. Like I knew something bad was going to happen."
David fingered his brown hair. "We were in a war, Les. Bad things happen every day in a war."
"I know, but this is different."
David glanced into the dining room. Diana crushed the cigarette. "We need to go."
"Les, I have to get off the phone."
"David, this is serious."
"I'm sure, but..."
"It's going to be dark in a few hours. I need you to come down here and bring a rifle."
"I can't. Jesus, if it bothers you that much go out for awhile or drive up here or something."
Diana banged the ashtray on the table. David heard her walk down the hall and close the bathroom door.
Les Campbell didn't answer.
"Look, I promise I'll come down, but I can't this weekend. We have plans."
"Yeah, okay."
"I mean it, Les."
"I'll talk to you later."
"Damn it," David said, slamming down the phone after Les hung up. "Why does he do that to me all the time?"
Diana stood in the doorway, putting lipstick back into her purse. "Because you let him put you through a constant guilt trip."
"I know."
She was right. David fell while crossing a rice paddy during a firefight. When Les bent to help him, he was shot in the lower back. David felt responsible for his friend being disabled.
Diana wrapped her arms around him. "Don't let it spoil our night. Next week he'll call with some new problem. He needs you, and you're a good man for helping him."
David stared into her brown eyes and kissed her. "Come on, let's go to dinner."
)
