Jo-el

Chapter 18 CORK

Fifteen minutes later I was sitting at a table in The Oliver Plunkett, on Oliver Plunkett street, in the vee of the River Lee close to the middle of Cork. I’d changed my look to an innocuous man in his fifties, with wispy hair, greying at the sides. My dress was typical for a local, brown woolen pants and plaid shirt with a green sweater. I wore a raincoat to fend off the downpour. My accent was a stark variation of my own, just in case Gerry or someone I knew from way back came into the pub. A pint of Guinness kept me company on the wooden table I had to share with a couple of young guys from out of town. A young band was playing Irish music, while two young girls did a jig. All that was missing was Mary. I could feel my eyes tear up as I soaked in the atmosphere and imagined my dear wife sitting beside me. I’d ordered Irish stew and was eagerly waiting its arrival. It was magic and brought back so many memories

My last time in Ireland was two years back, with Mary. We’d travelled all over and talked incessantly about returning to the old country. But with the children born in America, we had soon forgotten our dream. Yet sitting there, the Irish music loud in my ear, those dreams came flooding back. I had checked the heads-up display and knew that Gerry was not in the Plunkett that evening. I wondered what I’d do if he came in. I would be a stranger to him, it would be difficult to strike up a conversation and even if the opportunity arose I would have to be careful not to say anything that would give me away. Maybe it was for the better that he didn’t come in.

The stew was delightful and the beer like nectar, but after a short while I felt antsy. It was as if I needed to be seeking out the direction that Sally had talked about. I watched the young people enjoying themselves, oblivious to the storm that Sally said was threatening the planet. I assumed that at some point in the future everyone would know the fate that was imminent. How would people react? What sort of panic would ensue when the truth was known? Was there truly a way to save the people of earth by seeking out another planet and moving everyone there? It seemed improbable. What exactly had to happen now to force the governments of the world to take this seriously? I think that question peeked my thought process the most. The events of the last week played circles in my brain, how I’d gone from discounting the words of Ka-el, believing that it was a scam, to now entering a realization that what they told me was likely the truth. I still found it difficult to totally accept, even now. What had been the turning point? Without a doubt it was seeing the technology in action. As I made up my mind to leave the pub in Cork I realized I had to show the world what I’d seen. How could anyone not believe my words if they witnessed my actions. With that resolve I departed those familiar surroundings and called up Sally.

“I need to do something more significant, Sally.”

“Okay,” she replied. “What do you want to do?”

“Let me think a while,” I walked north to the river and crossed over the bridge. The rain still fell but my smart-suit kept me dry. I stood on the north bank and watched the river flow by the light of the street lamps. It was passed nine in the evening now; the darkness was complete and any light from the moon was blocked by the clouds. “I want to stop a crime, something significant, what’s going on?” I asked Sally.

“There’s two burglaries north of you. Family disputes are all over, but nothing too ugly right now. There’s a man pestering a young girl near St. Finbarrs Hospital, he’s raped before.”

Before she could continue I said, “That one! What’s he doing?”

“He’s trying to persuade the girl to get in his car, said he’ll take her home, get her out of the rain.”

“Put it on the screen.”

The man was holding the girl’s left arm in his right hand under her bicep. There was a compact car, it’s engine running, close by. It was a parking lot, presumably part of the hospital, rain was bouncing off the asphalt. I watched for a while. The man’s face was intense, his deep-set eyes focused intently on the girl’s face. A wisp of black hair stuck out from under his dark woolen hat. Fear emanated from the girl. “Give me sound,” I asked.

“….raining hard, Marie. Come on!” the man said.

“No Davin, I’m fine,” the girl pleaded.

“Do they know each other?” I queried.

“Yes, they work together, but she doesn’t like him, or trust him.”

“How can you know that?”

“Checked back a couple of weeks, he’s been pestering her.”

The man, Davin, became more forceful, pulling hard now on her arm. He looked up every so often, checking the area.

“Leave me, Davin!” she implored. I could see tears in her eyes. Then she swung her right hand around and hit him on the shoulder. He was surprised but didn’t let go. His face screwed up like a boxer, his efforts to pull her toward the car magnified. He slapped her hard with his left hand across her cheek and grabbed her right shoulder.

“Bounce me there! Change me to Jo-el, jeans and a sweater.”

In seconds I was alongside the car, by the driver’s door. I appeared out of nowhere, he didn’t see, but she did. The frightened look intensified on her face. She let out a short scream. Davin hit her again, thinking it was because of him.

“Whack him, Sally.” And as soon as I said it I saw him lurch to the left as if he’d been hit in the right thigh.

Davin moved his weight to his left leg and yelped like a dog. His grip on the girl relaxed and he turned his head toward me. His eyes were wide as he tried to figure out where I’d come from. The girl pulled free of him and stood staring at me. Davin came at me with his right fist, but like the Australian it hit a wall about two feet before he would have made contact. He grimaced and grabbed at the pain with his left hand. Then he went down, hard. Sally had whacked him in the left thigh. Both legs were dead. The girl’s palms clawed at her face in disbelief. I looked at her and smiled.

“Do you want to press charges against Davin?” My accent was American.

She just looked at me, she didn’t know what to do. Then she said, “how did you do that?”

“I can’t tell you.” I replied, unsure what I should say, but not wanting to try and explain everything. Wrong time. I nodded at Davin, still on the ground, the rain soaking him.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Who are you?”

“My name is Jo-el,” I spelled it out for her. Then I told her to go home, that I would deal with Davin.

She said thank-you, and drifted away slowly glancing back every so often.

Davin was looking up at me, waiting.

“Sally, can you make a video of what happened?”

“Sure.”

“What about the rape he committed previously?”

“Yes,” I heard in my mind.

“What was the name of the girl he raped?”

“Michelle O’Donnell.”

I eyed Davin still sitting on the rain drenched parking lot, examining the blood oozing from his right knuckles. “Your lucky day, Davin. If you rape again, of even attempt rape, I will send a video of the rape of Michelle O’Donnell to the Garda. Do you understand? You will quit your job at the hospital, tomorrow and move out of Cork.”

He was perplexed, his expression was fear and surprise, how could I know about Michelle and who the hell was I?

“Kick him again, Sally.” Which she did in his backside.

“Okay!” he muttered.

I walked away and left him.

I was satisfied for a moment; I’d rescued a woman from rape. But it didn’t feel enough, not anywhere nearly enough. I told Sally to bounce me home.