Link Back Outa here

The Sleepless Night


	He hadn’t been able to sleep so he went out. Despite the miriad of second-rate
clubs he could have ended up at, Zach found himself at The Hanging Garden, where he
had been employed a seeming millennium ago. It was late, very late. Shreveport was one
of those God-forsaken cities that liked to pretend it was New Orleans, or Los Angeles, a city whose
clubs could stay open until 6:00 am, but no one of any value bothered to stay passed four.
Even from the alley behind The Hanging Garden he was able to tell that tonight was
special. Tonight was another mockery of a celebratable holiday, namely Mardi Gras, and
at least forty people remained at the club to celebrate “Shreveport-style”. Demented and
sad though it was, these “festivities” were just what Zach needed to get Janie off of his-
	Zach had been inside the bar fighting a losing battle with his urge to drink, when
he was pulled outside by Good Old Tony’s fear. While others partook in the plastic pagan
frivolity of this “almost” event, Zach heard Tony’s screams and quickly ran to the back
alley to find him being robbed by four young thrill seekers. Seek and ye shall find! Zach
thought as he pulled the first thug about to plant a love nudge on his stubbled chin. The
criminal fell instantly into dreamland.
	His fist connected with another chin. This one wasn’t knocked unconscious like his
counterpart, instead he staggered about the narrow alley behind the club holding his chin
and cursing through his bleeding gums. Good Old Tony was gathering up his belongings,
on his knees,  while his former employee cleaned up the alley way.  No big deal. He fought
like this all the time. Only this time it felt different somehow. This time he felt angrier,
more violent than usual. And it was all to keep from thinking of-
	Janie was leaving in... Hell, he couldn’t even check his watch while he fought. No
matter, though. He wasn’t interested in Janie anyway, was he? His oversized boot
connected with thug #3’s earring ladened face, flattening him to the ground.
	“How did yo-” Tony started, giving Zach a confused look. Without bothering to
answer, Zach leaped over Tony’s head onto thug #4.  Tony rolled over from his seated
position to watch Zach pummel the would-be thief with all he had.
	“Could it have killed you to call?!”, Zach muttered as he tossed the creep into the
orange dumpster which, judging from the sound of breaking glass, was filled with bottles.
“Ew, that had to hurt.” Zach said dully.
	With the first creep well anesthetized by Zach’s fists, all that remained was the foul
mouthed one he had punched only seventy-eight seconds before. Zach stepped past Tony
muttering “No big surprise, I guess.”
	Zach leered at the bloody-lipped thug who was now brandishing one of his fallen
buddies’ pistols.
	Great, Zach thought as the criminal approached, he’s a killer.  Janie had always
said that Zach was one of those “lovably sanctimonious vigilante-types” who refused to
kill, ever, out of some skewed image of  “the right thing”.
	“Down on ya knees, boy.” the thug managed to say through his mangled lips . He
got closer and leveled the gun at Zach’s head as Zach did what the thug demanded.
	“Colt.” Zach said.
	“What?” the thug asked.
	“Colt.” Zach repeated, “Colt M 1911 A1, .45 caliber to be exact.” he said as flatly
as he would have listed the ingredients to a not-so-favored dish.
	“Ye-ah...”, said the thug with a look of puzzlement.
	“Zach, just do what he-”, Tony started from behind him.
	“Shh!” said Zach, “Watch this, Janie!” 
	Zach raised his hand quickly and silently to wrap his fingers around the cobalt blue
slide of the Colt .45 and pushed the assembly back toward the thug’s chest. A short “ping”
resounded as the chamber round was ejected sideways before the thug’s eyes. Zach then
moved his thumb to the magazine latch, ejecting the full clip from the handle of the pistol,
leaving the thug armed with a light piece of steel. 
	The poor guy only then found the quick thinking to pull the trigger, but his
incomplete weapon barely clicked.
	Zach narrowed his eyes  as he raised his other hand to connect violently with his
adversary’s chin for the second time in as many minutes. The guy rocked back and Zach
threw him in the direction of the brick wall, by the vest.
	“Just a call! Just one phone call!” he said in a voice just above a murmur. If Tony
heard he showed no sign of it. He had finished gathering his things and was now looking
on as Zach, whom he probably still remembered as the slightly chubby bar tender at the
very club he was now sparring behind, was proving that anyone could grow up and slim
down quicker than you could say “Jenny Craig”.
	Zach thrust the now unconscious thug into the brick wall and shouted, “She
doesn’t love me! She never loved me!”
	He stepped back as his sparring partner slowly slid down to the ground in a lump. 
Zach breathed heavily and stared, but did not speak.
	“Zach?” Good Old Tony said.
	Zach jumped before turning toward his former employer and said “Yeah?”.
	“Who never lov-”
	“Oh shit.” Zach said, “Thinking aloud again.” With that break everything started
flooding back to him: The bloody alley way; Good Old Tony , whose life he had just
saved; the band inside, beating the shit out of that “Lil’ Devil” tune by THE CULT; the
fact that he had almost drank; and one other thing that was purely internal: Janie. All lies
aside, if he didn’t go see Janie he would likely be this confused, this out of control, for
quite some time. He checked his watch. “I gotta go.”, he told Tony.
	“Zach, how... where did you learn to-”
	“Another time, okay?!”
	As he approached the steps one of the thugs, the one with enough earrings to set
off a metal detector a block away, began to stir and push himself up. As a preventative
measure, Zach dealt a quick kick to the thug’s chin flattening him to the ground and
saying “Take a nap, Fucko!” before ascending the steps.
	He entered the back way passing the three toilet stalls (only two of which were in
repair) and traipsed down the short hallway to the main room, where one of the worst
bands on the map attempted one of the greatest songs on vinyl. He grabbed his trench coat
from the table he had been contemplating at, and was dimly aware that his knuckles were
aching. He left his untouched bourbon and cola at the table and made his way to the
enormous glass doors that led into this former glory. He passed the table where he and
Janie had first met and that-
	“Hey Zach, I-”, said Steve, the bouncer.
	“Not now-” Zach replied.
	“But guy, I gotta-” Steve tried again.
	Zach pushed Steve backwards into the main pillar that pretended to hold the
immense fake marble ceiling up above them.
	“Fine,” said Steve, “be an ass-hair!”	
	Zach looked back at the table where he and Janie had first met and that made him
think of Alayne, his first real love, and Janie’s best friend.
	He crossed the street and hopped into his beat-up 1988 mustang and started the
vehicle. He pause briefly to view the possible damage to his face in the dark rear view
mirror. His red, straight hair was in a bit of disarray, his lips bled a little, but all in all he
Zach looked like Zach, light skin, hints of scars... “warts n’ all”. He had gotten used to
fighting creeps a lot more skilled than the ones he had just put down... which was why a
pang of guilt crossed his mind over the force he had excerted on them. Was he nuts? Well,
Alayne always said so.
	He and Alayne had had one of those sweet, dreamy relationships, the kind that put
you on cloud nine for as long as they can. Unfortunately, no cloud could support a man
like Zach Stafford for long without collapsing under the weight, and Alayne had gone.
Still while it lasted it had been incredible. And he had met her right there along with Janie,
and-
	“Janie.” he said aloud, “Shit!” The one who had always been there was leaving,
and her plane took off in... less than an hour while he sat in a dark parking lot, musing
over the past.
	Why even bother? his mind asked. Do you really think she’s gonna wanna see
you?
	“Shut up.” he muttered and slammed the transmission into drive.
	Janie was a good friend at the time, of course. She stood by both of them and tried
to maintain both friendships, but Alayne had changed, and Zach was falling deeper, and
deeper into the bottle. He remembered how he was then, a constant drunk. Not the party
boy he had been in high-school, but a pitiable, chubby drunk. At the time Zach had wanted
to blame Alayne, but now he knew all too well that it was himself that had pulled him so
far down. 
	It was the bottle he chose that had helped cause Cheri’s death. Cheri was an old
friend from high-school who loved a good drink as much as Zach, but Zach loved
dragging a friend out for a midnight stroll on his breaks from The Hanging Garden, more
than Cheri liked to go. She was polite enough to listen to his depression, but she was
afraid of the dark downtown. And rightly so. That night Zach had brought along a bottle
of cheap vodka from the bar even though he was already completely drunk. Once a
considerable amount of the bottle was gone some dehumanizer had jumped from the
shadows and raped and murdered Cheri while Zach, who could not even stand, took in
every second of the horrifying transgression. He couldn’t eat or sleep for quite some time
out of sheer depression and guilt. The worst part was that while he could lament his losses
until the second coming of Christ, Cheri had lost her very life to a waste of humanity who
had lost nothing from the experience.
	Zach slammed on the breaks somewhere on Crockett Street as a bum stumbled
before his car. Zach honked the horn and screamed “Asshole!” before proceeding on to
Common Street.
	That had been the last time he drank. He knew that he was responsible in no small
part for sweet Cheri’s defiling and dispatching at the hands of a beacon of rot, but he
knew that he had had help. The daemon alcohol had changed him, and he was ready to
change back! That was the first day of his new life. A sober, more positive life. He
exercised his body and mind until all his flab was redistributed into muscle and all his
energies into positivity. He wanted to make sure that no one else had to suffer and die the
way Cheri had... ever! He knew it was unrealistic, but he was far beyond driven, and
determined to try.
	Janie was never close to Cheri, but she had come to the funeral anyway. The Zach
she had met there had the look of an old man emblazoned into his nineteen year old face.
He was different but this was only the beginning.
	The lights were always too long when you had somewhere you had to be. Zach
stared at the red light that taunted him all too near the interstate he wanted to be on with  a
look of hatred. His eyes were still red from his thoughts of Cheri. Now it was
introspection time. How many sad souls had sat at these eternal red lights wondering what
the hell was what? He wondered how many wondered what the “right thing” was. Did she
want to see him? She’d probably see him as he ran into the terminal and give him a
quizzical, wrinkled-brow look wondering what the hell this “ex” was doing there. Then
she’d probably give him a polite wave before rejoining the line to her plane, shaking her
head at the absurdity of Zach’s presence... if he was even in time to see her at all!
	Go home then! shouted the voice of his mind, If she wanted to see you she’d have
called. You wouldn’t have heard it from Rubberface Smith, would you have!?
	“Shut-up!” he told himself, “Please God, let her be there.” he muttered just as the
red light disappeared and the green light above it cut a swath through the darkness of the
morning. He had his choice between the skeptic that was his mind, and the moron that was
his heart as he briefly eyed the two entrance ramps. One would carry him home, the other
to the airport, where he could see Janie one last time. His heart won out at it always did.
He was that same hopeless romantic that Janie had fallen in love with those years before.
Can’t sleep anyway. he thought as he turned on to the ramp.
	They had gotten together a few months after Cheri’s funeral. He was definitely the
romantic Janie had been waiting for. And if running around at night saving the lives of the
innocent, and cracking the skulls of criminals wasn’t romantic enough for him he ended up
writing her those sappy love sonnets and giving her flowers when she least expected it.
And she had loved it. This wasn’t the story-book bullshit he and Alayne had had, this was
the solid emotion he had been waiting for, with all of its ups and downs. But just like most
things in Zach’s life, this didn’t last. Her life had been too complex, and when her many
facets had needed attention, he was the part that was put on hold. She hardly noticed the
night he had left her apartment for good... at least not yet.
	Zach sighed and looked to his right where the Louisiana State Fairgrounds stood.
Over one of the many delapitated buildings stood a huge billboard, which was still lit at
five forty-five am for some reason, announcing the return of “The Terror Show”. On the
board was a painting of a bleeding female vampire pointing down toward the building she
was to appear in when the fair returned.
	Of course, this reminded him of Angelique. Poor Angelique, whom he had
wronged so under the influence of something stronger than alcohol, stronger than drugs,
nearly as strong as the love that drove him then. Angelique was one whom he never
tended to dwell on if he could help it. When he did, however, he sometimes felt that she
and Cheri would come to repay him one day, and he would feel no urge to fight back.
	But he didn’t care. Not now. Not when time was so short.
	Janie and Zach had shared a few stolen moments in the weeks that followed , but
after what had happened with Angelique, he wasn’t nearly ready for anything significant.
But then neither was Janie... but she was there, and they would have plenty of time.
	Contrarily Julianne was ready, then. She had seemed like she had Janie’s same
personality coupled with a passion for Zach which was unparalleled. Zach remembered
feeling giddy all of the time. This giddiness brought about a lack of sight that Julianne had
utilized to make Zach her slave. She had had a rope tied around his heart and led him
around like a lost puppy (at least during the day). Zach had hung on like a heroine addict
waiting to get the high he used to from his drug, a high he knew would never return. It
took no short time for him to realize that it wasn’t Julianne he was addicted to, it was
Janie.
	He had left Julianne to her raindeer games and her immense hatred of the real Zach
Stafford, and had pulled back into his night life.
	It was Janie who had come to him, this time. Jaded and hurt though he was Zach
had thrown all caution to the wind  and ran back into her arms. This time it lasted, up until
Zach was shot by one of his night time quarries, that is. It became clear to Janie that she
couldn’t be he one waiting for him as he went out to get himself killed night after night.
He had told her he would quit “playing vigilante”, but that hadn’t worked. Janie had told
him that this was who he was, and to try to change him would be wrong... not to mention
ultimately impossible.  And so it had ended. All that remained were those bitter, strained
“hellos” when they’d accidentally see each other out, or at the mall or something. And
then... now... she was leaving.
	That was the part that hurt. The others had all led up to Janie, she was the one he
always thought of as “the one”. Now he knew it wasn’t going to happen. All the
subconscious thoughts of it being only a matter of time were gone. Now it was the end.
He could not change the fact that she was leaving anymore than he could change his pain
on the subject. But he could say goodbye, and somehow he was going to!
	He pulled into the airport’s circular drive and exited the Mustang.
	“Hey man,” said one of the red-caps, “you can’t leave that here, it’s a-”
	“Then tow it.” Zach said pushing his way past the red-cap.
	“But it’s a-”
	“Tow it!” Zach said through clenched teeth and pushed the red-cap backwards.
	Ordinarily Zach was a decent guy, but today he had something to do. He had to
see her, and time was short.
	He never told her he loved her, but he did. 
	Rubberface’s information had better be right, Zach thought.
	He had managed to stop his lip from bleeding and he had pushed his hair into
something vaguely like a presentable look. As he ran down the long hallway to Janie’s
terminal he noticed the sun beginning to rise through one of the huge picture windows.
Can’t sleep anyway, he thought, nowhere better to be, right?
	He ran through the tile ladened hallways which were that luminescent color of
orange that evoked images of Captain Kirk or Mister Spock.
	He entered the terminal which, of course, had to be the last one on the concourse,
and... there she was, surrounded by her family. Now what? he wondered. He suddenly
became aware of the fact that a part of him was expecting to miss her, to see her plane
leaving, like some dramatic ending scene in a depressing movie... but there she was, right
before him.
	“Ja-Janie?” he croaked.
	Janie turned around and actually smiled. She smiled instead of giving him an odd
look and walking away. “Zach!”, she shouted and ran to him. Her gladness to see him
somehow hurt almost as much as the fact that she was soon to be gone. “I didn’t expect to
see you here!”
	He forced a smile. “Yeah well, you know me, they’ll be carving ‘Sentimental Old
Fool’ on my tombstone.”
	She laughed at him and said, “Sentimental old fools never die, they just go and join
Edsel car clubs, or something.”
	Zach bowed his head and laughed. He needed that laugh. It was an old time laugh
that proved he knew what happiness was.
	They called final boarding, and his laugh vanished.
	“I guess this is-”
	“Good-bye, yeah.” she finished for him.
	He leaned in for a final kiss, expecting her to pull away, or to turn her head for a
path to her cheek, but she didn’t. It was a brief kiss, but a real kiss, and as he pulled back
from her she placed her hand on his cheek and stroked it once, the way she had after their
very first kiss.
	“Good-bye.” she whispered.
	He stood and watched as her family gave her their good-byes.
	As she passed by him she grabbed his hand and squeezed it, looking into his eyes.
Silently, she went.
	Her family left out the small talk and brought him into their group to watch her
board. Naturally her seat was on the opposite side of the cabin. No chance of a final wave
good-bye; nothing so romantic as that. The last sight he had of her was the back of her
head entering the hatch. The sun had almost risen.
	Zach bowed his head as the plane made its communion with the slowly lightening
sky, and the tears came. Slow tears, tears he was fighting. 
	Janie’s sister approached and put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t tell her I cried.”
he said. “Whatever you do... I don’t want her to know I cried.”
	As he made his way to one of the out-dated black plastic chairs, he noticed that at
last the long delayed sun had risen. And as he sat in one of the highly uncomfortable seats
he suddenly felt better. No “I love yous”, nothing whiny, just a sweet “farewell”. He
slumped into the chair and somehow found the comfort to sleep.