Ordeal of Unknown Origin

He was an odd bird.  Everyone was sure his military file was as thick as a preacher’s Bible, but no one said a thing about his ordeal from the war, because his thin face would become haunted and spooky whenever someone mentioned it.  Everyone in town knew something was seriously wrong with Oliver Prichard after he was discharged from the army, because you’d have to walk on eggshells around him. 

“I think he was a POW.” Reginald Manning, the proprietor of the general store on Main Street would remark whenever he saw Ollie exit his beat-up old Ford Pickup on his way to talk to Doc Leonard. Doc Leonard was in the war as a medic and if truth be told, Doc was a little off himself. 

“How do you know?” Archie Wendell the stock boy would shake his head. 

“On account of some of the stories I heard tell.” Reginald would wave his hand like a pundit. 

“What stories?” Archie chuckled.

“Stories I hear Doc tell whenever he comes into the store.” Reginald shrugs. 

“Doc don’t tell no stories.” Archie shakes his head sadly and slowly. 

Pine River, Minnesota is a quaint community on the banks of Norway Lake where most folks live in the previous century. Old world ways still dot the rural landscape where small private family farms of a hundred acres or less, that are populated with jersey cows wandering from pasture to pasture without restraint.  We are a simple folk living close to the land.

The Prichard place is out on the old dirt road that runs near Chickamaw Beach.  Wayne Prichard, Ollie’s father is pushing a century, but Ollie still lives with him on the family land where a couple of generations of Prichards are interred on the family plot including his mother Emma.  When Ollie got drafted back then, Emma was still alive.  She drove him to the Trailways Bus Depot with his bag still wearing his overalls and flannel shirt.  Wayne did not accompany them.

That was over thirty years ago.  Vietnam was the name of the place they were going to send him to. None of us had any idea of what condition he would be in when he came home.  Wayne needs his son to care for him since he slipped into Alzheimer's.  Been really sad to watch him slip away like that. Sometimes you can hear him yelling at Ollie.  He has no idea he’s doing it and Ollie never says a thing about it. 

“When he goes.” Ollie once declared at a get together at his place, “I am gonna burn this place down like they did when I was in Nam.”   

“Why would you do that?” Smeg Hanson asked, sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs by the shore.

“Got no use for this place.” He answered with that haunted look in his dark eyes.  No one dared question him on that, but it left a lot of us feeling uneasy.  

“I want to know what is going through his head.” Chote Sparks remarked while playing checkers with Reginald on the porch in front of the general store.  Chote was not a big man.  Some say he had the hands of a woman, but he was intent on his small man complex which often ignited his temper from time to time. 

“Could be a lot of things.” Reginald shrugs.

“But doncha wanna know what he’s thinkin?’” Chote makes a move taking a couple of Reginald’s black pieces.   

“Not really.” Reginald winces when Chote removes the captured pieces. “I was in Korea and let me tell ya, it was not worth talkin’ about.” 

“I coudda gone, you know.” Chote surveys the board for another strike. “I would have had to lie about my age.” He tilted his head.

“You and  the others were planning on runnin’ off to Canada.” Reginald chuckles. 

“Ain’t so.” Chote sticks out his bottom lip in defiance. 

“Shush, here he comes.” Reginald nods toward Ollie who was walking toward them.  Chote looks up and sees Ollie standing in front of them as if he materialized out of nowhere.  “Hey there Ollie, what can I do for you?” 

“Wire and propane.” Ollie answers without expression. 

“Whacha plannin’ on doin,’ lighting the house on fire?” Reginald asks, but draws a death stare from Ollie. “Sure we got plenty.” 

Ollie just nods.  Both Chore and Reginald swallow hard, because he still has that death stare in his eyes. 

No one knows when Wayne Prichard finally passed, but there was a fire.  His shed burned to the ground before the volunteer fire department finally got there.  One of the firemen said that Ollie was standing on the porch, watching, just watching without any hint of expression.

“We got her out.”  The chief said, but all Ollie just nodded and tipped his hat. “Where’s your pa?”

Ollie just shrugged.  

A week later, I will never forget it, this stranger came walking into town.  He was wearing a thick Fu Manchu mustache and jungle fatigues shirt with the sleeves cut off. He walked right up to Reginald who was playing checkers with one of the local kids on summer break.   

“Do you know where I can find Oliver Prichard?” He asked without looking him in the eyes. 

“I reckon he’d be at his place up the road.” Reginald did not care for the distant look in the stranger’s eye.  

“Up this road?” He pointed.

“Yup.” Reginald nodded as he moved one of his black checkers to an empty space on the board.

“Thanks.” He said as if the word was surgically removed from his throat.  He began walking down the road without another word.

“It’s about a three mile hike.” Reginald called after him.

“No problem.  Walked further than that in the day.” He almost smiled as he continued walking.

“Suit yourself.” Reginald mumbled, returning his attention to the game. 

“Guy was creepy.” Reginald replied later as he sat at Gunderen’s Tavern with the rest of his cronies.

“Never thought Ollie had any friends.” Archie shook his head.

“Nam, I reckon.” Reginald shrugged. 

“Sure.” Archie nodded. 

“I didn’t like the cut of his jib.” Reginald confessed. “There was something about him, I can’t put my finger on it, that just didn’t seem right.” 

“Hope you’re wrong.” Jake seated to Reginald’s right sighed. 

“That fire last week.  I was there with the other guys.  Seemed like he wasn’t too concerned.” Hollie added. “Now he’s got some guy looking for him.  I just don’t like it.”

An uneasy silence fell over them.  

Later that same week, Micah Vertollen reported strange noises coming from the farmhouse.  His farm was located north of the Prichard place.  There was a wind blowing, but Micah clearly heard the moaning coming from his neighbor’s house. 

“It was like some ghost wailing.” Micah explained to us as he sat in a bar stool at Gundersen’s.  Knowing him like we did, we knew Micah was not one who was inclined to believe in a poltergeist or otherworldly phenonium. 

“What do you suppose is going on there?” Chote asked with his crystal blue eyes wide open as he sipped his beer. 

“I’m not sure I want to find out.” Micah nodded as he took a healthy draw from his mug of beer. 

“Maybe someone should go up there and find out what’s going on.” Reginald suggested. 

“Are you gonna volunteer?” Andy Warner asked. 

“I might.” Reginald stuck out his bottom lip, “I just might.” 

“Let us know what you find out.” Chote elbowed Reginald.  

“I will.” Reginald raised his mug to affirm his conviction. 

A few days later, a fisherman found Reginald’s body bobbing in Norway Lake.  An investigation followed, but there were no solid clues even though there was some discussion about the goings-on at the Prichard place.  Some of the gossip was flying at Gundersen’s until Ollie and his friend walked into the place.  

Silence. 

“Need a couple of beers.” Ollie held up two fingers as he and his friend sat at the bar. 

“Coming right up.” Duane Olson nodded, pulling the tap. “Who’s your friend?” 

“Justin.” Ollie answered.

“Or Private Clark as I was known in-country.” The stranger smiled, but even his smile had no warmth in it. 

“Welcome to Gundersen’s, Justin.” Duane wagged his head letting his golden locks wave.  Born with golden hair and clear blue eyes, Duane was a legacy to his Viking heritage. 

“We were in a platoon in Vietnam.” Ollie put his arm around Justin. 

“Vietnam?  That was almost thirty years ago.” Chote raised a bushy eyebrow. 

“Yeah, so.” Ollie glared at Chote.

“Nothing, just saying.” Chote glanced over at Archie who was holding a pool cue. Archie shook his head as he lined up another shot on the pool table. The tension in the barroom began to rise as the two of them sat there drinking their beers.  A couple customers walked out.   

Justin walked over to where Chote was chalking his stick after Archie missed the ten ball in the side pocket. 

“For some of us, Vietnam was hell on earth.” He leaned into Chote who wore a petrified expression on his face. “Were you there?”

“Naw-no.” Chote shuddered, nearly dropping his stick. 

“So don’t speak of what you know nothing about, got it?” Justin jabbed his finger in Chote’s chest. 

“Yeah-ya.” Chote stuttered. 

“We know y’all been talkin’ ‘bout what you think happened to Reginald.” Ollie pointed his finger at each of us still there, “You’re wrong. Me and my friend are getting tired of hearing you flap your lips about what you think happened.  Justin and me did what we had to do when we were over there.  Don’t judge us unless you were there.  I spent a long time in the hospital until they felt like I was ready to come home.  My daddy came every Sunday during visiting hours to check on me.  He begged them to let me go. Not one of you ever came with him.  So don’t be making up what you think happened. To you, it was an ordeal of unknown origin.”

“C’mon, let’s go home.” Justin whispered into Ollie’s ear.  Ollie nods as they leave the bar. 

Once they were gone, Chote stepped forward, “I think he killed Reginald.”

“Hush up.” Duane waved a finger at him, “You want him to hear what you’re saying about him?”

“Who’s gonna tell him?” Chote summoned up his bravado as he tossed his stick on the pool table.

“You saw that look in his eyes.” Archie put his hand on Chote’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I saw it.” He hissed, “I also heard that Doc Leonard says he is still quite crazy.” 

“You are so full of crap.” Duane declares, shaking his head. 

“He burned down that shed with his father inside.” Chote is shaking with trepidation as he spoke, “I heard it from a reliable source.” 

“I’ve known him when he left for the war.”  Jake spoke up. “He was a good kid, you know.” 

“Good then, but not when he came here from the hospital.” Chote was still shaking, his eyes darted around the bar.  “You all saw him.  You all saw his eyes.  He has the eyes of a killer.  None of us are safe.  Not after what he did Reginald Manning.” 

“What did he do?” Duane crossed his arms across his chest.

“He killed him and then dumped him in the lake.” Chote wiped his hand over his mouth. “He’s dangerous, mark my words and that friend of his is just as insane.” 

“Justin?” Duane shook his head. “He did not scare me in the least.” 

“They say John Wayne Gacy was a nice guy.” Archie chimed in. 

“I heard that, too.” Jake nodded. 

Bears had already picked over Chote Spark’s body when a hiker discovered it in the underbrush.  Minnesota State Police investigated while forensics picked over the corpse for any evidence of the cause of death, but due to the condition of his body, death was hard to determine.  

“I told him to be careful.” Duane told the state trooper who came into the bar looking for clues.  Instead Duane put a mug of beer in his hand and the clues became quite scarce. 

“Oliver Prichard does have an interesting record.” The trooper shook his head.

“So did his father from what I heard.” Duane sighed.

“What did you hear?” The trooper asked before sipping his beer. 

“He would take Ollie to the shed to teach him a lesson from time to time.  Heard one of his teachers made a report, but then the teacher disappeared.” Duane wiped down the bar, careful to keep his voice low in case anyone was eavesdropping. 

“Seems like a lot of bad things happen out here.” He raised his eyebrow. 

“So it does.  So it does.” He chuckled.  

When Archie Wendell came up missing after a frantic call from his wife Donna, we had a town meeting to decide to confront Ollie Prichard and Justin Clark about their recent activities. They were both sitting on the porch of the farm house when we came walking up their driveway at dusk.  

“What can we do you boys for?” Ollie asked, glancing over at Justin. 

“We want to know where Archie Wendell is.” Smeg answered. 

“How the heck would I know?” Ollie stood up with hands on hips shaking his head. 

“We have had two folks turn up dead around here.” Smeg sighed. 

“And what does that have to do with us?” Ollie shrugged as he shot a quick glance at Justin. 

“We are trying to get to the bottom of the disappearance of two prominent citizens of Pine River.” Archie did his best to maintain his bearing. 

“Hmmph, I thought they had recovered their bodies.  Seems that nature got a hold of them pretty quickly.” Ollie leaned against a post supporting the porch roof.  

“Yeah.” Archie swallowed hard.

“Seems you gentlemen have come all the way out here for nothing.” He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “I have lived in Pine River most of my life. I took care of my father until he passed and now I run the family farm by myself. Nobody ever came out to see if I was alright until my friend Justin Clark did.  Get off my land with your crazy ideas about what you think I’ve done.” 

Silence. 

“We just wanna ask ya some questions.” Archie found the voice he had lost. 

“Like what?” Ollie gave Archie an icy stare.  

Silence.

“Justin, it’s time for you to go.” Ollie nodded.  Standing, Justin just nodded.  Everyone watched as that guy just faded until he wasn’t there any longer.

“Back when I was in-country, Justin was my buddy.  We ran into an ambush. He took the bullet meant for me and died in my arms.” Ollie bowed his head.

“No way, he was drinking with you the other night.” Archie pointed a finger at Ollie.

“He did have a beer, but I assure you, he did not drink a single drop.  He couldn’t.” Ollie’s eyes were shining with his tears. “He came because I prayed to God to spend just a couple of days with him.  After he passed away, I had my first break where I was reported to do something that I can’t even speak of after all this time. Doc Leonard helped me put myself back together.  He knew what I had gone through.  Most of what we brought back with us back then, we still can’t talk about it.”

Silence.

“So if you still think I’m a monster, go ahead and step forward.  Just make sure the cuffs are secure.” He held out both arms, but no one took a single step toward him. “Well if you won’t judge what I have done.  I will take it to He who will judge me for eternity.” 

Before anyone could make a move, Ollie pulled out his service .45, put it to his temple and pulled the trigger sending out a cloud of red that sprayed the porch with his brains and pieces of skull.  

The coroner came to put his remains into a plastic black bag.

“Poor old son-of-a-bitch.” Dr. Connors mumbled as he zipped up the bag. “Lived with so many demons.” 

The ash of his cigarette fell on the porch covering some of the blood stains. I waited until he loaded the vehicle with the gurney carrying Oliver Prichard’s remains.