"Duff, what're you doin' out? I thought they had you in the hospital; you know like locked up, you know what I'm fuckin' sayin'," Junior said by way of greeting.
"Yeah, Duff, I didn't think, once they said you had, you know, psychotrayic stuff, that they had to like wrap you up in sheets and give you some of the Protrack or sometin,'" Jackpot said.
"What are you guys talking about?" I said. The guys at Ray's didn't make a ton of sense but they were going out of their way this morning to be weird.
"Holy shit. He hasn't seen the paper, you know what I'm fuckin' sayin'," Junior said.
Jackpot went to the counter, by the mirror behind his chair, and fiddled around with the newspaper. He pulled out a section and walked over and handed it to me.
"You're famous, Duff, but not the kind of notoriousness you were looking for," Jackpot said.
I read the lead story of the Local section of the UnionTimes. Local Boxer Arrested At Notre Dame: Released Into Psychiatric Care
Crawford journeyman pro boxer and social worker at Jewish Unified Services, Duff Dombrowski, was arrested on the campus of the University of Notre Dame during the pep rally before the Notre Dame-Michigan game. Dombrowski, whose boxing career can best be described as mediocre, assaulted a Notre Dame student in a Joyce Center restroom during the pep rally.
Dombrowski claimed the student was part of a plot to start a massacre during the pep rally, similar to the incident at Virginia Tech in 2007. The college sophomore, Wan Lu, had a knapsack filled with canned goods for the soldier drive that was going on campus-wide. Dombrowski said he had heard the rattle of cans and believed they were explosive devices or assault weapons.
He was released into the medical care of Dr. Rudy Villone, a Crawford internist, who stated he would place the fighter under inpatient psychiatric care. The police at Notre Dame, along with the district attorney in South Bend, agreed to the arrangement after the student expressed he did not want to press charges. The student suffered bumps and bruises, but was not hurt seriously.
"What the hell…," I said.
"I hear that campus is beautiful, Duff. All that tradition and whatnot, you know what I'm fuckin' sayin'," Junior said.
"This is this morning's paper, right?" I said. Both of the guys nodded. It was quiet and a little uncomfortable in a place that didn't have many lapses of silence. Neither of the guys had anyone's hair to cut yet, so it made the silence that much more awkward.
"Duff, you want a cut? I guess maybe you ought to, seeing as you'll be going some place to, you know, psycho-recover. The fuckin' barbers in those joints suck, you know what I'm fuckin' sayin'," Junior said.
I sat down, just staring at the paper. My chest started to pound and my head throbbed. I started having problems breathing. My hands started to shake and I could see only the floor in front of me, but it was blurry. It felt like something was sitting on my chest and the walls seemed to be pushing in on me.
"Duff, Duff!" Something shook me hard by both shoulders.
"Duff, Duff!" Something cracked me in the face. Instinctively, I countered with a left cross. There was a loud thud followed by someone yelling.
"He fuckin' punched me, you know what I'm fuckin' sayin'." Came through my senses.
Abruptly, there was a figure, a person, in front of me. It, he, whatever, had his hands lightly on my shoulders and he spoke to me in a quiet voice.
"Duffy, it's Kelley. You're having a panic reaction. You're safe. Breathe and sit back,"
I don't know why, but I followed the directions. My chest heaved, but it slowly began heaving less. The throb throbbed, but it did it lighter. The room was started to come in to view. Kelley slowly came into view. Little by little the room came into focus. Junior and Jackpot were standing behind their chairs, with their eyes wide. Junior was rubbing his jaw.
"What the hell happened?" I was exhausted.
"You had some sort of panic reaction," Kelley said. "We've gotten some training on spotting them. You should apologize to Junior."
"For what?"
"How 'bout for fuckin' hittin' me with a left cross, you know what I'm fuckin' sayin'," Junior said.
Tom Schreck
Out Cold: Round Three of the Duffy Dombrowski Mysteries
"No, I did? No." I looked at Junior. "Man Junior, I'm sorry, man. I had no idea."
The three guys in the room stared at me. Their faces showed a combination of fear and confusion.
"Duff, don't take this the wrong way, man, but you're losing your fuckin' marbles, you know what I'm fuckin' sayin.'" Junior rubbed his jaw.
"Kell, the guy who's been after Karl is coming and he's coming for both of us this time. The next thing is a high school massacre and they're going to make it happen at McDonough. I saw the guy. I-" Kelly held up a hand.
Kelley didn't say anything. He frowned just a little bit at first, looked down and then out Junior's front window. He stood up, remaining quiet, and so did Junior and Jackpot. They looked anywhere but at me The shop was quieter than I ever remember it being.
"Kell-"
"Duff, we've known each other forever. You know I tell you the truth, maybe even too much." He paused and looked down. He looked up at me. "You're fucked up. You're not in your right head and it's not just a little bit any more. You've been arrested, you're having attacks, and the stuff you're talking about is delusional."
I could tell he didn't want to say what he just did. I sat there and looked at Kelley, then Junior, then Jackpot and then back to Kelley. I don't know the word for what I felt because embarrassed wasn't enough.
33
I didn't know what to do. I didn't feel crazy, but isn't that part of being crazy-You didn't know it? Karl seemed to be aware of being nuts. Did it make him a higher functioning fruitcake than I had become? Scary.
I walked through town trying to sort it all out. I guess that's what we mental health guys do. We wander through city streets talking to ourselves, trying to make sense. Crazy or not, it was time to organize my head. Oddly enough, when it came time to do that in the past, I sought out Jerry Number Two. Jerry was smart, knew a lot of what other people didn't, and had access to the world through his computers. Jerry also loved Dungeons and Dragons, Star Trek and other things, but hey, nobody's perfect. Jerry lived in the college section of town, in a basement apartment. He prefers the damp basement because it helps his horticultural hobby flourish. That is, his pot plants grew really well and no one could spot them. Jerry never seemed to mind an unannounced visit.
"Duff…what brings you here in the middle of the afternoon?" Jerry's doorbell played 'Keep On Truckin' by The Dead.
"You got a few minutes to help me understand something?"
"Sure, Duff. I was doing some online gaming, but I'll just commit suicide. It will take just a minute." I didn't ask.
I took a seat in a big round rattan chair, struggling to get comfortable. Jerry came back with some dark, odd looking tea, and sat in front of me on a floor pillow with his legs crossed.
"All right, Duff. Shoot."
"Jerry, I know everyone thinks I'm crazy, so you don't have to pretend otherwise. I want to lay some shit out to you and I want you to tell me what you think."
Jerry nodded.
"First of all, let me run down what I know; Number One: Karl, who by the way is nuts, believes that defense contractors, specifically private security firms, are benefiting from a large national defense budget."
"So far no one will argue," Jerry said.
"Two, Karl claims he, after he had a horrible time accidentally killing some children, was recruited by an old high school buddy to be part of a private security firm."