B: Samhain The HUnter

She's late again, Fifth time this week. I can't help but wonder if
she's part of this whole containment plan the folks on the Hill's got
planned for me. I guess I'll figure it out sooner or later. In the
meantime, the four guys sitting across the room glance at me, trying to
look inconspicuous. They ain't doing' a great job at it . They stick
out like a piece of white cotton on a clear field. That's why I like
this little bar in Bayside. Anyone who comes in here either fits or
they don't. Either you're a regular or you're a newbie. These guys are
definitely newbies. Mike warned me about them, when I came in. I gave
him a reassuring wink as he brought me my drink. He gets nervous about
me breaking up stuff in his joint. It ain't his joint, it's my joint
but he worries anyway. Him and me go back a ways, back to the jungles
of Nam. Once I got out and went AWOL, I got up with him and bought this
place. It was just the kinda joint I needed and the kinda place Mike
always dreamed about. We named it after his baby boy: Li'l Mike's
Place. It came with pretty much everything we needed except the
jukebox. That was my idea. I always wanted to have one of those old
time jukeboxes. It flashes while it plays tunes and it takes quarters.
The guys that come in here love it. It reminds them of the old days
when we'd rock out to what's now called classic rock.

The old jukebox is cranking out the classics. Stuff like Van-Halen, The
Doors, and Led Zepplin used to turn my stomach. I used to call it
"white boy" music. But hey; I change with the times. It's in my blood.
I lay my head back and tip my chair against the wall. The beers I
drank, five in all, gives me the slightest buzz. Eyes half shut, feet
up on the table, I watch the mop-up boys as they watch me. I wonder if
they know what they're getting their Asses into?

I daydream about our first time together, Diana and me. Her blonde hair
cascaded down her back like spun gold. She may be a leader in the
bio-med field, but she's a woman when and where it counts. When I did
my vibrator thing, she went wild. One of the tricks my "little buddies"
does for me. My body warms noticeably, but comfortably for the both of
us. Then I begin to pulse all over as we're joined together. When it
was over, she just laid there all trance-like for a while. Then she
said;
"So let me see if I've got this right. You're not a magician, your not
into any of that Yoga Maharishi stuff, and you didn't slip a Mickey
into my drink to make me think that you did what you just did,
right?

"You got it", I said taking a deep long breathe. she turns over to face
me. Her hair falling over half of her face, making her blue eyes seem
as if they were peeking through some bushes. Her fingers traced through
the white hair springing up from my chest. I never knew why the little
buddies couldn't make my hair grow black again. They gave me a
fifty-two inch chest, biceps the size of watermelons that can crush a
solid ball of concrete, and a heightened sensory awareness. I learned
stuff that I never could back when I was a boy growin' up on Alabama. I
could watch a hummingbird fly and follow each wing beat. I can will my
little buddies to do almost anything with my body but make my hair
black again. Put that together with my amber eyes, and my caramel Negro
skin, and my being just under six feet, and I guess I make an
impression.
"And you're how old?" she raised an eyebrow, tilting her head to one
side.
"Ninety-seven", I say slowly, letting it all sink in.
She shook her head in disbelief. "Incredible! If what you say is true,
then I've got a jump on something that can change medicine
forever."
"Yea if Uncle Sam don't waist you before you get things going," I said,
rolling over to face her, "I'm a loose end that needs to be 'tied up'
you know?"
"Leave that to me honey, I've got a few friends in Congress."
I watch her face, those eyes the color of a robin's egg. I sense her
basking in the post orgasmic afterglow; given to her by yours truly and
the wonders of modern science.
She rolled onto her back again???.staring into space.
"Sammy-Joe Hayne", she said thoughtfully, "Samhain!"
"What?" I chuckled.
"Samhain," she said again turning to me, "It sounds much cooler than
Sammy Joe."
I snorted, amused at the idea. "And just what the hell is a Samhain,
huh?"
"Old Celtic mythology" she lays her head on my chest, her hair tickling
a bit,
"He was the 'god of the Hunt', the herald of winter", she says sweeping
her hand in the air, a mock grand gesture.
"And I'm supposed to bring on the winter or something?"
"No silly" she giggles "You're 'Master of the Hunt'"
I laugh at that. For the past few decades I've been the Hunted not the
Hunter.
Yep. The good ol' US government was hunting me ever since I went
A.W.O.L. stateside, back from Nam. That was back in '72. I was
sixty-six then and being a "prototype". That's what they called me
then, the Relik Prototype. That's when the crap hit the fan and
everyone found out about the Tuskegee experiment. That's when I found
out the truth. Not the whole truth, but enough to make me want to
disappear. Enough to make me want to get even. Enough to make me? ?
?,

I come back to reality as one of the fellas rises and crosses over to
my table. I remain as I was, head back, eyes half closed. The one
coming to me is big, well over six feet. His dark hair falls in curls
around his temples. His coal black eyes are empty and determined. He
moves like he's seen a whole lot of action. And I can tell he ain't
about to ask me if I want another beer. The little buddies within help
me notice things about folks no one else can. I can smell the scent of
the big .44 magnum hidden in his half zipped up leather jacket. I can
smell the hair grease that he put on this morning. I can hear the
motion of each muscle as he nears. The leather of his standard issue
shoes creak with every step. This guy is solid. So are his partners.
They watch as Mr. Big makes his way toward me.

I lean forward, letting the chair fall gently onto all four legs. I
gaze up at him, my elbows on the table, fingertips touching. He gives
that "I'm gonna kick your ass if you don't cooperate" professional
smile.
"Mr. Samuel Joseph Hayne?"
"In the flesh son," I breathe through my hands," In the flesh."
"I'm Special Agent Harmon. My colleagues and I have been sent from The
Center to bring you home."
"Oh?" I reply.
"Yes Sir" he says. He motions his men over to us. "We've been
instructed to escort you back to the Center. There's been a whole bunch
of folk anxious to look after you." The three others approach and fan
into a small semi-circle behind him.

I smirk sarcastically "Is that so Son? Whatcha really mean is that
Uncle Sam is scared shitless of his favorite nephew Sammy-Joe and he's
got you boys out here to clean up his mess right?"

His eyes grow a degree colder, his smile a bit more taut. "Sir let's
not cause a scene here ok? The best thing to do is to just come along
quietly and save yourself a lot of trouble and unnecessary pain." He
exposes the .44 in his jacket. My bartender goes into the back to stay
outta the way.
The Jukebox plays the opening of an old Black Sabbath tune. A while
back my partner Mike extended the opening drum solo cause he liked the
way it sounded; like some old cave-man type beat. I never saw anything
to it, just whump, whump, whump, whump. It goes on like that as Mr. Big
takes a step closer to me to make his "arrest." He reaches out with his
left to grab my hand as his right goes for his gun.

Whump! I catch his hand in wrist and squeeze hard. The bone snaps
audibly.
"Argh!" He roars and goes down to his knees spewing obscenities in pain
and shock.
I back slap him and send him sprawling and out cold

Whump! The other three already have their guns out and pointing. I hurl
the table me in at them knocking two of them off balance, and rise to
my feet.

Whump! Before they can regain poise I'm on them. The one on my left,
some kind of oriental older fellow, I take out with a blow to his
balding temple. He's comatose before he hits the ground.

Whump! The one on my right I pull into a head butt that'll give him the
hangover of his life once he comes to.

Whump! The last one's got his pistol cocked and ready. He shouts,
"freeze" and opens fire. The bullet hits me in the shoulder. Pain
explodes on impact, the force of the blow spinning me around. It hurts
like crap, burning like a hot branding iron.

Whump! Now I'm pissed. I turn to him, blood soaking where he struck me,
my eye narrowed to amber slits. The little buddies within me have
already started to patch me up. The pain is already fading. My breath
comes hard and deliberate as I approach this rookie.
Whump! " Helluva shot kid", I say as I cross the barroom floor. He
starts to back up toward the jukebox. "They didn't tell you who you
were chasin' did they? They didn't brief you on why they want me so
badly huh?" I easily dodge the next three rounds he manages to get off
before I close in on him. "Stay back! Stay the hell back!!!" The kid's
scared shitless. His blues eyes are the size of dinner plates beneath
his close-cropped rust colored hair.
The jukebox growls "I -AM -IRON MAN!!!" the guitars wail out the first
caveman chords.
His skin pales as he realizes for the first time that he's gonna die
right now.
I reach him and snatch the gun from him as if he's my son playing with
matches.
I tear the fabric of my shirt exposing the bullet wound.
His eyes widen further as he sees it's already healed.
"Now you understand?" I say as I grab him by the neck and pull him up
close and personal.
"I don't want any trouble son, I just want to live my life. I ain't
goin' back to get 'fixed' no more. You tell 'em that Sammy Joe's a free
man and he's gonna stay free.
I could've killed you all just now son, you tell 'em that next time I
will."

I smell the fear oozing from his pores. All he can do is nod and
tremble. I let him go and turn to survey the damage.
It isn't too bad. I kept things down to a minimum. Just the table needs
replacing. Maybe plug up the holes where the kid missed; Then again,
maybe not. It sorta gives the joint character. "Clean up your friends
and get outta here."

The soldier moves without a word and goes to revive one of his
comrades. I step over to the bar and call out. "Mike. Come on out I'm
done." Mike comes out from the back room with his old Winchester as if
I'd need help. I smile and reach into my hip pocket. I pull out a few
bills. "Get the place cleaned up. If you need more lemme know."
"Sure thing Sam", he says accepting the cash. He's used to stuff like
this by now.
I've always known I could trust him. Good old Mikey-boy and me go a
long ways back for sure.

"I'll check back with you later", I say as I cross to leave through the
main entrance.
"It's better if she don't see the mess."
Mike nods knowingly. I go on out to the street. It's cloudy; the
expressway's busy as usual. Horace Harding is full of high-school kids
just getting off. Springfield blvd., down to my left is full of them
too as they wait for the city bus line to take 'em to Queens Village.
The sun peeks through the clouds just enough to tease us all. I can
hear the familiar hum of her car's engine; I can pick it out from among
the hundreds of cars on the freeway and the ones passing me by on the
street. I hear the wind rush over its contoured chassis. She's singing
to the music she's got playing on the CD. A child of the Eighties;
that's my baby!
I see Diana pull up in her little red Mazda. She's got the top down and
the music's blarin'. She's wearing those black jeans with a white
halter-top that highlights her cleavage. Her hair's pulled back and
held in place by one of those elastic bands of fabric. The sunshades
hide her cerulean-blue eyes. Her lips smile as she sees me standing at
the curb. The smile fades as she catches sight of the bloody torn
shirt.
She pulls over to me, turns the player down. " You alright
lover?"
"Yea babe", I say as I ease into the passenger's side, "I just had to
send a message home that's all."
"Looks like it was an expensive package."

" It ain't nothin' that a little lovin' won't fix", I say as we pull
off, giving her a leering glance.

She returns my leer. " I think I can, ah? helpya out."

I adjust the seat and lean it back as Diana maneuvers the car onto the
parkway.
The sun feels good on my face. So does the wind. I'm hoping they get my
point. I'm hoping that I can buy some peace for a while. I may
powerful, I may have something that renews my body and improves my
abilities. I may be able to 'leap tall building in a single bound' for
God's sake. But I still feel my age. I still feel a need to find
harmony in my life. Deep down I'm still just the same old Sammy-Joe
that crawled out of a plow-field and tried to get relief from a
Government that used the crap outta me and made me their guinea pig. I
ain't ever going back there. Not Ever!
I reach over and crank up the music. I never thought I'd get used to
the stuff Di likes to play. It's full of groups with names like Liquid
Mind and Aphex Twin. The rhythms go on like a broken record. In some
cases they are broken records.
I but I like it. It's only rock n' roll and hey,,, I change with the
times.