One time at the Salton Sea

Don lay motionless as the doctors toiled away. Dr. Noble stitched the 3rd new artery into Don's heart. The anesthesiologist shouted, “Dr. Noble, the patient stopped breathing.” Dr. Noble had done over 750 bypass surgeries and had only lost one patient, and that was 14 years earlier, an 89-year-old man who would have died without the bypass anyway. Don's blood was being circulated and oxygenated by the machine. As Don looked down from inside the hospital, he recognized himself. He thought, how strange is this? He could feel his body; he felt perfectly fine. In fact, he felt better than he had felt in years. He looked at the clock on the wall; it had struck 2:00 PM. The surgery had started at 10:00 AM, but the veins mined from the legs were not in great shape. Sections of those were blocked nearly as bad as the heart was. Don watched as Dr. Noble toiled feverishly inside Don’s chest. He felt a force pulling him upward. Unlike gravity, a gentle force lightly tugging. He felt himself pass through the building. The Veterans Hospital in Tampa. Once he was outside the building, the force was much stronger, and his body was quickly leaving the atmosphere. Suddenly, miles up, he knew he should feel cold, but he didn’t feel cold. He didn’t feel hot. He just felt perfectly comfortable. His memory was intact. He remembered who he was and what he had done in life. The good times, the heartbreaks, the bad times, the things that came back and haunted him in his dreams.

All of it seemed trivial now as he felt a joining. A joining of spirits, a melding of minds, and like a sigh of relief, suddenly she was there. Patty Castro, she had died 36 years earlier, 2500 miles away. Murdered in cold blood, she was shot in the head, point blank, by an unknown assailant. Why? The case was never solved. But on whose orders, well, Don had already gotten to the bottom of, his contract was canceled. Don could feel his lips tingle like she was kissing him, but they were joined. Her thoughts were his thoughts; his were hers. He asked without speaking, who did it honey? She answered without speaking. It doesn’t matter, love, we are together. This life was just a brief stop; our journey will continue into the millennium, on another world at another time, and we will join again as we have throughout time.

Don could feel she was right. It was familiar, like arriving home. Still, Don yearned to know who had taken her away. The question drifted between their minds, and then the scene came clear to him, tied and gagged bound to a chair. He saw what she saw: Fred Alvarez shot in the head; he could feel her shock. Then, Ralph Boger, Don heard her muffled scream no and felt her loss, not a lover, a dear friend. Then, the barrel pointing right at her head, he could see Jimmy Hughes's face. Jimmy even said I’m sorry, Patty, but he pulled the trigger anyway. Over what? Casino money, Cocaine? Don wondered. A flood of information came from her at once, scattered bits and pieces, flying saucers, alien bodies, germ or genetic information. Where had she been taken? It was no place like Don had ever seen; clean rooms, strange life forms in an ocean, no a lake, beneath a lake. Life forms humanoids moving through the water as we move through the air. Talking, working, building in the water like a crew constructing a jet. Molding from unknown materials. Then, the Military officers and the drinks. The drinks were spiked, and Patty and Ralph woke up at Fred's house tied up in the yard. She remembered Jimmy shouting at Fred, “You couldn’t leave it alone. You couldn’t just take your cut and keep your mouth shut.” After Jimmy placed the gun to her head, she drifted out, seeing the three bodies in Fred’s backyard. She waited for what seemed only moments, and now Don was there, they were together. She sensed in his mind 36 years, and it only registered as an idea, not that time was an aspect any longer. He could feel her inside himself bonded, inseparable. He wasn’t sure where they had come from before now, but he knew they were together then as well.

Suddenly, Don could feel pain, pain inside his chest as it overwhelmed him, and Patty suffered it with him for just a moment, and she was gone. He felt the electric current pulse through his chest again. His mind succumbed to the anesthesia again. Dr. Noble handed the paddles to his assistant and said, “Let's get him sewn up; it’s two O’clock already.” That was a little too close for comfort.”

They wired Don’s breastplate back together over the next twenty minutes and super glued the skin along the scalpel cut. Don’s heart was beating regularly on its own once again. Don had ¾” drainage tubes into both of his lungs and one into his heart. When he awoke at 9:00 PM, he looked for Patty, but she wasn’t there. He wondered if it was a dream. He was so connected to her. He remembered she had been murdered back in 1981, and he even knew where and how. What he didn’t know before was who. Suddenly, it flooded into his consciousness. Jimmy Hughes. He even remembered Jimmy. A snakeskin craftsman 3 miles south of Rancho Mirage, in the Coachella Valley, CA. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he remembered a detail about Patty’s deceased husband, Staunton. Found dead in the desert after missing for four days. He was working on bio-weapons in the desert somewhere. Don tried to make sense of it all what the hell did Patty really see down there that got her killed? Don remembered John Nichols ordered the hit. Now, he knew Jimmy Hughes executed it. But he was in no shape to go after anyone after a triple bypass.

Dr. Noble came in the following afternoon and said, “How are you feeling today, Mr. Colt?” Don said, “Like ten pounds of manure stuffed into a five-pound bag.” Dr. Noble said, “You gave me a little scare there last night. Mr. Colt. I thought you were checking out without paying the bill, and he chuckled a bit.” Don looked perplexed. Dr. Noble said, “You were gone for over three and a half minutes, Mr. Colt.” I still had the second side of the last artery to sew up, so I couldn’t even shock your heart until I had that closed and a few sutures sewn in it. You were flat-lined and not showing any brain activity. Your pupils were non-reactive. You had me worried for a minute. I thought you would be my number two,” and he knocked on the wooden night table next to the hospital bed. Dr. Noble said you have to work with that spirometer now six times a day so we can get you out of here, okay? Don agreed. It was quite painful with the three drainage tubes still in him, but they were collecting fluid from under the lungs and more from his heart. Three and a half minutes. To Don, it felt like he had spent a day with Patty as they were joined in joy and love. He wished it could be more. But he knew for sure he hadn’t been dreaming now. He knew he had to find Jimmy Hughes and settle the score. After another 4 days, he was released. Once he got home, he got his computer next to his reclining chair. He had a little cough, and it felt like his chest was being ripped apart. They told him to hold a pillow against his chest. Don discovered that if he kept a belt around his chest, it substantially minimized the pain from coughing. Don’s mind couldn’t help wandering to Patty again. How did he let her go? What was this weird aquatic place with aliens that Patty saw? Could it be real, or was it just a dream? Maybe the Morphine had his mind scrambled. The Percocet’s certainly did, but they made the pain manageable. Don studied the aerial photography in Indio. Nice things you can find online these days. Google Earth drilled him right down to Jimmy’s property. Don was in worse shape than he thought. A single sneeze as he walked into his kitchen nearly brought him to his knees. No, it would take time to heal; Don knew it. But what was it he now understood about the vague relationship of time? What Time is it? He wondered as the Percocet’s jumbled his thoughts. His mind swam in a sea of mysterious thoughts, the sea he remembered. Patty and he had gone one weekend to the Salton Sea. It was Memorial Day, two weeks after they first met; Don rented the trailer next to hers, and on his day off, Patty took Don to the beach in the desert. The Salton Sea was marvelous. A beautiful crystal clear body of water. They skinny-dipped like teenagers, although Patty was already 41. Then Don remembered what Patty had shown him while he was on the other side, the beings moving effortlessly through the water, like a crab walking across the bottom. Then Don knew it wasn’t a dream. It became clear to him that Jimmy wasn’t just down there by chance. He was guarding the only road that led to the Salton Sea at that time. A CIA agent, how the hell did Don read him so wrong? Trading snake skins with the man, why did he need all that venom anyway? Don remembered how upset Jimmy was the one time he showed up with just the snake bodies and no heads he left them in the desert. Don thought the snake's heads were waste; the skins were the important part. The rattlesnake bites were few and far between in Indio. The hospital had plenty of venom on hand. Don knew Jimmy Hughes had answers, and he was going to get them, then make him pay for killing Patty. Twenty-five hundred miles away if he still lived out there 38 years later, if he was even still alive, Jimmy was probably 30 when Don was out there last at 23 years old.

There was a chance. Don knew as soon as he was up for the trip, he was going to find a way to get there and find out everything. Four weeks passed, and Don felt like he was getting stronger again; his focus on Patty drove him. Physical therapy was a strain, but his pain was a motivator as well. He put away the Percocet’s. Two more weeks, and he was able to do a few pushups. Two more weeks, and he was able to do twenty. Don knew it was easy enough to find again. Go straight up I-75 to I-10 and across I-10 for about 3 days. Don loaded all three of his Colt 45s and brought six extra magazines. He remembered the years earlier when he would go to sell the snake skins and heads to Jimmy. Sometimes, there would be a half dozen Hell’s Angels motorcycles out there, and he would not try to get money for the snakes then. Just come back the next day. Don got out of Florida, through Alabama, and zipped through Mississippi into Louisiana like a breeze. Spent the night in Baton Rouge. Thinking this trip won’t be bad. The next night, Don practically collapsed into the bed in El Paso. Finally, he rolled into Indio proper just past 3:00 PM. Jimmy's place was just another three miles south, toward the Salton Sea, and Don felt nervous. Nothing looked familiar. Houses everywhere that used to be barren desert. But Don saw the sign. Old Highway 86, down past the Airport to 76th Street. And there on the corner was Jimmy’s little wreck of a trailer. Junk scattered all around the yard. The tan sides were only slightly lighter than they had been years earlier. An eyesore described it nicely. Don turned into and down the driveway. He saw one of the blinds open a little and close. Don lightly knocked on the Door. Looking up at the door from the bottom of the two steps. The door opened, and a beautiful brunette girl looking to be in her mid-thirties said can I help you? Don was a little flustered, expecting to see Jimmy, not a young lady. He said, "Hello, my name is Don Colt, I’m a friend of Jimmy Hughes, although I haven’t seen him in over thirty-five years." The young lady turned and said. “Daddy, the man says he’s a friend of yours," sort of loudly.” Jimmy came around the door and looked, trying to recognize a face. Finally, he saw it. He said, "Oh yeah, you're Bruce’s friend, the snake catcher, right?" Don said, "Yes, Jimmy, Don Colt." Jimmy said, "That’s right. How are you?" Come on in and have a coffee." Don had run through a hundred scenarios of how he was going to exact his revenge on Jimmy during his thirty-six hours of driving to get here, not one of them accounted for his daughter being at the trailer. Jimmy poured the coffee, saying, “Jacqueline just made a fresh pot. How do you like it?” Don said, “Just cream, no sugar.” Jimmy said, "I haven’t seen you in years I thought you moved away, Florida or something Bruce told me." Don said, "Yeah, that’s right, Jimmy, I’m down in Florida now, you still hear from Bruce?" Jimmy said, “ Every weekend, he’s still delivering snakes." Jacqueline said, “ I’m sorry to interrupt Daddy. I have to go pick up Tommy. He’ll be finishing his soccer practice soon. I’ll come and see you in a few days." "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Colt.” Don said, "It was nice to meet you, Jacqueline!" Don stood up and shook her hand. She kissed Jimmy on the cheek and went out the door. Jimmy closed the inside door behind her. He looked down at Don and said. “What is it you’re here for, Don? You’re not showing up for a social visit after thirty-eight years." Don said, “No, you’re right, Jimmy, I have business out this way by the Salton Sea!” Don could see the concern in Jimmy’s eyes as soon as he said it. Jimmy tried to play it off. “The Salton Sea, what’s down there?” Jimmy asked. Don said, “I was hoping you might be able to tell me that, Jimmy.” Jimmy said, “I don’t know anything about the Salton Sea. You know I’m just out here selling snake skins, Don.” Don said, “Yeah, I know you’re selling snake skins out here, Jimmy, and I know you’re a CIA agent."

"Your old boss, John Nichols, told me just before he suffered a fatal heart attack in March of 2001. He didn’t die before he told me he ordered the hit on Fred Alverez. But we know that was you, wasn’t it, Jimmy?” Jimmy’s eyes looked to the bedroom. Don said, “Jimmy, I’ll put a .45 in your back before you ever reach whatever you have in there.” Jimmy’s mind searched back, and in an instant, he recalled when Don was handing him a burlap bag of snake bodies as one fell, and Don had snatched it mid-air before it could hit the dirt. Jimmy knew better than to test Don’s speed. Jimmy said,” What do you want?” Don said, “I want to know why Patty Castro was killed, Jimmy.”

Jimmy said, “That was while I was with the CIA, I can’t be held responsible for that. I was following government orders; it wasn’t personal. Don took his nickel-plated .45 out from behind his back and said, "Jimmy, I took it real personally. Now, you are going to give me some answers." Jimmy looked for a glint of sympathy in Don’s face and saw none. He said, “Can I sit down?” Don waved the gun toward the chair opposite the table, and Jimmy sat. Jimmy said, “It was all Fred Alvarez's fault. He was sure that John Nichols was skimming from the casino, so he had Ralph follow John. But Ralph took Patty along, and they followed John right down to the Salton Sea. They watched as the tube emerged onto the beach, and John entered with the jars full of venom. Patty saw the aliens take the venom and drink it.” Jimmy said, ”It’s the only way they can survive in our atmosphere. Their bodies need the snake venom to invoke an immune response to our air and allow them a few hours out of the water, breathing our atmosphere. Without it, they are like a fish out of water and are dead in 30 minutes, Octopus family.” Jimmy continued, “Patty and Ralph went back and told Fred what they saw, and Fred was going to go to the local sheriff.” John gave the order to take them out.” Don finished his coffee and said, “Alright, can I get another cup?” Jimmy said, “Sure, took the cup and turned to the coffee pot. In a flash, Don was on his feet and grabbed Jimmy in a sleeper hold from behind, forcing him to his knees as he pulled to get Don’s arm off his neck, but Don held on, and after 2 minutes of being deprived of oxygen, Jimmy’s body went limp. For over 4 minutes, Don held the sleeper hold. Jimmy’s body had relieved itself of its other functions. Don looked and saw the blood concentrated on both sides of his neck and gently massaged it outwards. A sudden stroke was the coroner's finding when Don called 911 to tell them his friend was making coffee when he collapsed. The M.E. said the time of death was 6:00 o’clock on June 6th.