SIDE A | CHAPTER 5

Larry George

September 1st, 1984

Larry woke, dazed in a hotel room he didn't recognize. It was a wreck. The memories of the previous night came back to him in fragments. He saw...colored lights shining down. They were from the club that he played in...they finished loud and proud and the party didn't stop...it moved back to the hotel room. They...they all had an orgy in the room—there was people he didn't know all mixed in with those that he did. Someone offered out the heroin and they all...shot up.

Larry's eyes opened wide and went to his arms and his heart broke when he saw the marks. He threw his head back and closed his eyes. Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck. He didn't know how he was going to explain this one to anybody. He was aware how quiet it was in the room—and the worst part of it all had hit him then. He remembered hearing them leave—they thought he was asleep—they were ditching him. They took off with his clothes and bags. He wasn't asleep—but he couldn't move. He was...having a seizure. It was a miracle he was alive. His body remembered how stiff it had gotten—it transformed that stiffness into an eternal ache throughout his entire being.

He closed his eyes—resigning to just dying here and wasting away the rest of his pain, but he felt a weight in his pocket. He fished it out and was holding the cassette player in his hands. He didn't want to hear from Kappy now. This was furthest from the time he wanted to be lectured on how he hadn't listened.

Then suddenly the weight of headphones was on his head. He didn't put them on...but there they were.

"you didn't listen to me. the one thing i asked you to do larry was to listen to my advice whenever i gave it to you."

"Ughh...I don't want to hear it right now Kappy. I feel like garbage as it is."

"larry, you are not understanding the severity of the situation. i told you not to get involved with this band because you would end up tainted by influence, and here you are tainted by influence. Not listening to me has to have consequences."

"I'm already suffering consequences, Kappy," Larry said, opening his eyes weakly. "All my stuff is stolen and I'm sure they're all gone..."

"no, larry. You do not understand. i don't care about that. i'm talking about real consequences."

"..."

"there is $100 left in your pocket, larry. i suggest you use it to go visit your family."

"My family?"

"drugs kill people, larry...if you catch my drift..."

Larry's eyes opened wide. "What? What are you talking about?"

"...i would hurry larry. they're going to want you there for the wake."

"What the fuck Kappy? What do you mean? What happened?" Larry tried to goad his guide out, but Kappy refused to say anything more. "Kappy? What the fuck?! Tell me what's going on!" This continued for another hour until Larry brought himself out of the bed. He did find the hundred dollars in his pocket, but that was all he had left to his name. He stumbled his way out of the hotel. He found a car rental not too far from the hotel—and used half of his money on the cheapest junk-bucket he could find.

All he could think about on the way back home was Steven overdosing at some party. He knew his brother partied—more than his parents knew, but who was he to snitch? Hell, Larry had heroin in his system now. What could he even say against drug use now that wouldn't be thrown right back into his face? Please, God just let Steven be okay.

Heather George (27) has passed away this past weekend from serious injuries sustained in a collision with another driver who was under the influence of alcohol and other narcotics. Heather was a cherished daughter to Gilbert and Theresa George. She was finishing her senior year at Yale University and working at the Hobbs and Carlton Law Firm. The news of her passing is a terrible tragedy for her family, who wishes for prayers in these tough times. Services shall be held on Sunday, September 9th at the Harmony Hill Funeral Home.

Larry was unwelcome in his own home. He could feel it plain as day. Happiness was unwelcome in the George home on the day the news of Heather's death breached their consciousness. She was coming home to surprise her parents with a weekend of what was supposed to be good times.

She was side-swiped by a thirty-something who was driving forty over the speed limit on I-87. He had just lost his job by being drunk on the premises for the last time. He didn't know what to do about his mounting debt so when he merged onto the highway absolutely nothing else mattered. Not even the girl who he slammed into.

Larry only stayed so long to hear the news before he took off again. It took that long for the reality of the world to fully set in. Heather's death was real. She was gone from this world, and worst of all he knew that his father blamed him for being the surviving child. He wasn't sure what he felt about Steven, but he was sure that there was absolutely no love he would receive from Gilbert George. So, to avoid any conflict for his mother he skipped out on planning for the wake and started driving in the rental car.

He didn't know where he was going—just that it was anywhere but his home. There was no stereo in the car—but it had a cassette player. Larry shook his head and reached into his pocket—he knew the cassette player would be there—and it was. He ejected the tape and slid it into the car's cassette player.

"What the fuck did you do?" Larry asked.

"you chose to not listen to me. i told you that there would be consequences. i am not giving you advice for no reason larry. if you would have listened to me this terrible tragedy would never have happened."

"So you're telling me 100% that you're the one who killed my sister? Is that fucking it? This whole time you've been trying to lead me down the right path but then you pull a stunt like that?!"

"larry you are missing the point. i did not kill heather. if anyone can be blamed aside from the drunk driver—it was you. you made the choice that led to her death."

"So you're blaming me then? Oh that's just rich. Fuck this. We're done, Kappy. I'm done talking to you."

"i would not do that if i were you, larry. we would not want anymore accidents in the george family, now would we?"

"Is...is that a threat?" Larry couldn't believe it. All this time he'd kept Kappy close to him and never realized just how...manipulative he could have really been.

"i am only trying to help you, larry. If you break our pact then i will have to be forced to get you to comply by any means necessary."

"Pact...I was five years old! I can't legally make any sort of pact or contract or anything like that at five!"

"ha...ha...ha...larry. do you assume i live by your rules?"

"You...you live by the law. That's the fuckin' law!"

"i do not care about the law. i care about you. i would recommend you not mention this to the police however—i am more than sure you'll be detained for clinical insanity, trust me when I say we both do not want that."

Larry pulled to the side of the road and threw his head in his hands. "What do you want me to do? Just listen to you forever?"

"is that not so bad? have i told you do do anything that breaks your laws? Have i told you to kill other people? no, larry. i have been looking out for you from the very beginning, but you are difficult. You live with a rebellion in your heart. you believe its in rebellion of those who keep you down, but that is not true. you keep yourself down, and you rebel against yourself—just like when you joined up with that drug den of a band. all i want is to help set you right—to ease your pain."

"You ease my pain by killing my sister?"

"i will tell you again, larry. you killed your sister. your rebellion against yourself pushed those balls into motion. if she were to remain living then you would not learn your lesson—you would not grow. that is what you must do now, and i will help you. My next piece of advice is going to require a big sacrifice on your part—but you have to believe that i know what is best for you."

"What...what is it?" Larry asked, shaking his head.

"you are going to join the army."

Larry signed up for boot camp that very day.

1990

Larry was now stationed in Panama under the command of Richard "Dick" Hadaad and First Lieutenant Robert Paz. They had been stationed out by the British embassy for an act of self defense against the Panamanian Defense Force. Their mission was code named Operation Just Cause. On his very first night out in Panama Larry wasn't the only soldier that went to his solitary quarters clutching a cassette player—Dick Hadaad also had one. It was strange as cassettes were starting to get old when he was young—so to see them still used by anyone normally was very strange. Larry's mind drifted—he wondered if Dick also had his own guide to listen to, but wrote it off as preposterous—the man was easily twice his own age so it made sense that he'd stick to what he was comfortable with.

Sounds erupted into the quiet of the night—gunfire. Shit. It was his watch and here he was wondering about Dick's cassettes. He ran and started screaming for everyone to form up. A private along for their journey thunked to the ground as a bullet pierced his brain. Just like that he was gone. Larry tried to remove Heather from his mind when he saw the body, but he couldn't. All he saw in the private's face was her. He shook his head and took cover. His heart was pounding.

Larry and his team formed together to protect their camp and eliminate the rebel force. The majority of the defensive maneuvers enacted by Captain Bartholomew "Barry" Rainwater. Barry joins Robert, Dick, and Larry for a meal and they each in turn talk about the reasons why they were where they were. Their talk extended into the night as the bright moon climbed into the sky. Slumber took them all eventually, and all Larry could think about in his dreams was Dick's cassette player.

A few days later Larry and the rest of his squadron are relocated to the Fort Clayton Military Base northwest of Balboa. Larry didn't get much of any chance to settle in inside the base, as he was immediately invited by Barry, Dick, and Robert for a nice dinner at the nearby Marriott Hotel. Larry asked Kappy in private what he thought of the idea—but Kappy had stopped entertaining irrelevant questions by this point in their relationship. No answer meant Larry was free to decide on his own accord. He agreed, and so the four of them left out in a civilian vehicle.

The four of them dressed in their finest and headed out. Trouble arose along the way when Panamanian civilians alongside PDF members ambushed their car—convinced they were armed and dangerous and on a recon mission against the PDF. People surrounded the car and hammered on the sides and windows demanding they stop and surrender themselves. Larry felt a claustrophobic feeling as all the bodies packed in around the car. One of the PDF soldiers outside opened fire in the sky which erupted the rest of the bullets to begin flying.

One shot pierced the driver side window and stuck in Dick's shoulder. They begun to open fire as Dick—the driver—is caught with a bullet in the shoulder. Another shot—this time from behind—shatters the back windshield and sprays Robert's blood across the back of the passenger seat. Larry, horrified, leaps up front and laid onto the horn as Dick got control of himself enough to drive out of the panic. The crowd scurried away and they redirected to the Gorgas Army Hospital. Robert died the instant the bullet scattered his brain, but otherwise the group survived with their lives.

January 23rd, 1991

Larry was honorably discharged after his time in Panama and returned to America at the start of the new year. He was homeless, but his time in the army provided him with the funds to get himself something small to crash in until he figured out what the next step in his life was. Kappy was silent on the days he returned to the states, so his time was largely spaceless—weightless. He felt like he was floating on nothingness with no way to move forward.

Near the end of the month a letter arrived in the mail from Dick asking for a meet-up to discuss some personal matters. Larry didn't want to respond to the letter at first. Seeing Dick would only bring back terrible memories of Robert or of every single dead body he had seen while in Panama—which would only go further to bring fresh memories of Heather back into his mind. But something inside him urged him to follow through on the meet-up.

The two went to an upstate-New-York diner and the two friends greeted each other as they sat down and ordered a couple of coffees.

"Why'd you write?" Larry started off the conversation. "I don't think you want to just strike up friendly conversation."

"Sharp as a tack, George." Dick said and took an apprehensive sip of his coffee. "I haven't been sleeping lately, but not for the obvious reasons. I keep thinking back to the night we all were talking until the hours of the night and you said that you felt like you've had a guardian angel. I...I didn't think much into it then but I've gone back to that conversation so many times in my mind now and how you said it—with how honestly you believed it—stuck with me. It made me think that you weren't talking about a hypothetical figure."

"What do you mean, hypothetical figure?"

Dick looked like he was conflicted about sharing, but decided to in the end. "I've seen you eye my Walkman more than once. I thought at first you just had klepto-eyes, but when I got to knew you I pushed that possibility out of my head, but it still seemed strange to me. I feel stupid for not realizing it now, but since coming back I've been thinking and thinking and I finally put two and two together. You...hear the voice too, don't you?"

Larry didn't respond—not at first. He felt like he was playing a tactical game of cards and wasn't sure if he should reveal his hand.

In the end, he did. And the two talked about their shared experiences—Dick too has been following the words of a voice, although he was never given a name. The voice assured him that he would be able to help him in life.

Larry shared that his experience was just as similar, and asked if he had his Walkman on him. Dick nodded, saying that it's with him wherever he goes. Dick brought out the Walkman and handed it over to Larry.

"Go on, try on the headphones. Tell me if the voice is the same."

Larry did, sliding them over his ears and his body felt hot as he slid his fingers over the play button. He pressed it and waited. He waited and then the drum beat of the song kicked in driving in the melody of the track. There wasn't any voice, just the song that was originally recorded on the tape.

Larry excused himself from the table and left the diner—leaving a distraught Dick holding the Walkman and sitting alone with the two coffees. Larry was on the road faster than a jaguar in the jungle and slammed his own tape into his beat-up car's stereo. He turned onto I-87 and started driving north.

"What do you really want, Kappy? You're talking to Dick too?

"larry, i talk to many people."

"You never said that! Not once!" He slammed his fist on the steering wheel.

"why would i need to tell you that?"

"I'm done, Kappy. I quit. I did everything you asked me to. I signed up for the army. I'm done."

"you are far from done. you do not want your father's cancer to become terminal."

"C-Cancer?"

"terrible thing, really. he was diagnosed on christmas eve of all times. poor man is too proud to tell you because it's a sign of weakness."

"You...you're lying."

"i have never lied to you, larry."

"You lied to me about talking to other people!"

"no, I did nor. I did not think it important that you know, so I did not tell you. I never lied about it, though."

"That is basically the same thing!"

"it isn't, but wouldn't you rather worry about your father than argue pedantics?" Larry didn't have a response for Kappy. "i am growing tired of your attitude, larry. if i am going to continue being your guide i need to know that you will listen to me when i give you advice.

Larry gripped the wheel tighter and gritted his teeth, "What do you mean?"

"i need to see if you can follow directions, larry. stop the car"

"What?"

"stop the car larry."

"I can't—we're on the highway."

"…"

Larry groaned and pulled the car into the rightmost lane and slowed off to the emergency stop lane. "What? What do you want me to do?"

"you're going to exit your vehicle. You will walk into the woods and strangle what you find."

"Woah what?!" Larry sat up straight like a lightning rod. "What the fuck, Kappy?"

"time is ticking, larry. you have five minutes to prove to me you're in this."

The radio turned off. Larry heaved a sigh and rested his head on the steering wheel. He thought alone in the car until he finally convinced himself to unbuckle and barrel out onto the highway—hurling himself over the railing and stumbled into the woods. He cursed and looked around in a panic as a mental timer continued to tick down. He finally saw what Kappy had in mind—he had no clue how Kappy knew that it would be here...but here it was. It was a stray dog—scrappier than most he'd seen—it looked about how he felt. Its back leg was bent at an odd angle—it looks like it was broken. The dog must have been here in suffering for a long time because it no longer cried out. It only looked at Larry and thumped its tail weakly. In that moment time seemed to stop and a world of indecision flowed inside him like a whirlwind.