37 Turn the other cheek

Kris went to look for Paul at his office, but for the first time since Kris had started coming to Sacred Heart, the Group Sharing Room was locked up tight.  Somebody with a soft pack of Marlboro Menthol Light 100’s informed Kris that Paul had taken to hanging out in Donnie’s old office.

Kris found his way into the Administrative Building, past Mary Pendleton’s office and into a stairwell.  He was making his way down the stairs, lost in a mental calculus, when an exit door flung violently open and a sweaty and red-faced Rhett Herron bolted in.  One of his trunk-like arms was wrapped tightly about the neck of an unconscious girl.  Her hair covered her face, and Kris couldn’t make out who it was.  Part of her bangs was matted to her forehead with half-congealed blood.  Rhett slammed the door shut behind him and looked up at Kris.  “I have been looking a whole month of Sundays for you, sir.  I tell you what, we’ve got to stop meeting like this.”  Rhett cast the girl off into one corner like so much dirty laundry.  Kris noticed then that Rhett’s arm was bandaged from having been run-through with Kris’ screwdriver at their last encounter.

Rhett smiled a terrible thing at Kris and simply reached out and snatched him by the shirt.  He whipped the would-be detective 180 degrees, pinning him face first against the cool brick wall.  Kris scrambled like an animal caught in a trap, but Rhett had gotten the jump on him; there would be no getting away this time.  His previous escape, Kris decided, had absolutely been a lucky fluke.  Rhett leaned all of his weight upon Kris and punched him hard in the kidneys, punched him hard in the side of the head.  Kris’ ears rang hot with pain.  He tried to fight back, but he was quite simply bested.  He was convinced that this was the day that Rhett would end his life, and was surprised to find that his thoughts turned to Abraham Lincoln.  He pushed and flailed and took punishing blow after punishing blow.  And then the door flew open once again and an entire company of armored Police officers rushed the well and sacked Rhett.  Kris was dragged to the ground along with his assailant and his face was rubbed raw against the concrete wall all the way down.

“Yep,” Kris thought to himself, “I am going to pass out.”  His vision became a tightening cone of darkness.  Before it completely closed in upon him, the last thing Kris saw was Mary Pendleton’s face, leaning over his own, apparently uttering words of comfort to him.  These were unfortunately drowned out by the ringing in his head.  But he was absolutely sure that he heard Paul McCartney somewhere, singing about wistful words of wisdom.