The Break - Chapter 40

Chapter 40 When Schneider finally recovered enough to sit up, he picked up the envelope that Ian had left behind. The only thing it contained was a small slip of paper with two type-written words – Pepsi Center. Schneider understood the message immediately. He crumpled the paper and put it into his mouth. He chewed the thin piece thoroughly before swallowing it. This guaranteed that no other eyes would ever see it. Not that there was any chance that anyone else could possibly understand it, but he had learned his lesson well – do not jeopardize the mission. Tomorrow they would arrive in Denver. As soon as the show ended tonight in Salt Lake City, Schneider would have to drive the bus to Denver so they could make it in time to set up for the show. That meant he had a very little time to set up for the show and make his preparations to carry out the mission. Over the past three weeks, he had assembled and disassembled the device hundreds of times. Each time, he took the risk that it would go off in his hands. At first, the process was painfully slow due to his extreme cautiousness. The last time he did it which was right after the show started, it only took him seventeen minutes to assemble it. He was very proud of his progress. But he was tired. Since he had to practice undetected, he only had two opportunities for practice – during the shows and after everyone was asleep. Lack of sleep combined with all the driving was beginning to take its toll. Hearing the thunderous applause, he knew that the guys were through for the evening. Schneider hustled inside to help breakdown. Now that the band had received so much support from the record label, his work was pretty easy. All he had to do was to grab Pete’s favorite guitar and a few other items. The local guys would load up the newly arrived, record company funded eighteen-wheeler. That meant they could get on the road immediately after the show. By the time he returned, everyone was on the bus. They were eager to get on the road. The excitement was electric. It was if they felt the sooner they got to Denver, the sooner tomorrow would come. Tomorrow night was going to be the biggest night in their lives. Ratdick had been slated to fill in for System of the Down as the support band for Pearl Jam. The excitement had been building since Randy told them five days ago. Their last three shows had been adrenaline fueled frenzies which were very well received by fans and critics alike. Ronnie was determined that tomorrow’s show was going to launch them as mega-stars. They had the opportunity and he was going to make sure they put on the best show the crowd had ever seen. As Schneider boarded the bus, he heard Ronnie addressing his band mates. “All right.” He heard Ronnie say. “This is it. I want everyone to get as much sleep as possible tonight. Let’s keep the alcohol consumption down a bit, okay Pete.” “What the fuck?” Pete asked incredulously. The response drew a chuckle from Ass, Ben and Emily. Which in turn elicted a very dirty look from Chelsea. “You know what I mean.” Ronnie explained soothingly. “After a great show, like we had tonight. You have a tendency to over indulge a bit. I’m not saying don’t drink, I am saying take it easy.” “Cool, dude.” Pete replied after considering Ronnie’s explanation. “I’ll just smoke it up like a mother fucker.” That drew serious laughter from the rest. “Think I might join you.” Big Ron said. “Just for medicinal purposes.” Slightly taken aback, Ronnie just couldn’t get use to the fact that his Dad had been smoking with Pete and Chelsea. Even if it was to counter the effects of his cancer medications, it still seemed weird. “Fine.” Ronnie said. His tone betrayed his level of discomfort with his father’s statement. “Look, this is it. We need to be well rested and ready to tear it up. We only get an hour and a half to play and I want to leave it all on the stage.” A thought flashed through Schneider’s mind. This kid has got his head on right. For a twenty-something, he was impressive in the way he lead his team. He had been given a challenge and had stepped up to it. It reminded Schneider of a young lieutenant that arrived in Vietnam during his second tour. When he first arrived, no one in his platoon could take him seriously. He could barely even shave. But on their second LRP, the platoon was ambushed. The squad leaders began deploying their men, but the lieutenant countermanded their orders. Sharply, he ordered his men to pull back fifty meters and take cover three-quarters of the way up the ridge behind them. Although several of the non-commissioned officers had reservations about the order, they were delivered with such confidence and authority that none of them considered challenged. “Let’s move.” Schneider barked at his men. Within a split second, the other three squad leaders had their men on the move as well.. The men battled through the jungle in search of cover. Just as they took up their positions, their previous position erupted with earth-shaking explosions. The Vietnamese had anticipated that the Americans would choose to fight from their current positions and zeroed in artillery on the most inviting positions. Although, the platoon lost three men falling back, it would have been a massacre. The lieutenant held his men in place and waited for the Vietnamese to reconnoiter the kill zone as he knew they would. As soon as they showed themselves, he order his men to open fire. The ensuing battle was short, but very intense. Withering under the deadly fire from the Americans, the Vietnamese broke off contact and faded back into the jungle. The young lieutenant only got better. By the time Schneider was ready to rotate back to the United States, he considered that man the best officer he had ever served. His third tour only reinforced this opinion. No, this wasn’t Vietnam and these kids weren’t fighting a tenacious guerilla enemy. No, these kids didn’t have it nearly as easy as that. They had to battle record company executives, marketing people, the press, promoters and union representatives. All of whom happen to be the truly vicious people of this world. “Hell, in Vietnam all they could do was kill ya.” Schneider thought. “These fuckers’ll suck your blood, bleed you dry, use you for all you’ve got and then dump you quicker than a pregnant whore. Leave you alive to suffer. Well, I’m going to show those fuckers tomorrow.” “We can do this.” Ronnie’s words brought him back to the present. “Jesus Christ, Ronnie.” Pete responded. “Give it a rest.” “Shut the fuck up, Pete.” Ass jumped in. “He’s right, we have to concentrate and keep focus. When you lose focus, bad things happen.” “Oooo, words from the master .” Pete replied sarcastically. “Once again, Pete.” Ass fired back as he turned to face Pete to indicate he wasn’t going to take his disrespectfully attitude toward the master. “Shut the fuck up.” “Knock it off, guys.” Ronnie commanded trying to diffuse the confrontation. “So, maybe I a bit overboard, Pete. But I am serious. We have all made a commitment to this band and I just want to remind everybody. It’s not like you haven’t had a few gaps in concentration.” “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Pete asked defensively. Ronnie paused to ensure he chose his words properly. Not wanting this to escalate out of control, he decided to keep it as simple as possible. “Portland and New York before the Lettermen show.” He said simply. Pete reflected on the words for a moment. In Portland, he and Chelsea had stayed up all night drinking, smoking and having sex. It continued through the entire day, so that by show time he was drunk and hadn’t slept in over thirty-six hours. Though it wasn’t his best performance, he didn’t think he played all that bad. In New York, he spent three hours before the Lettermen show doing body shots of tequila off Chelsea. When he got to the green room, he was roaring drunk. The other band members pumped him full of coffee, so that he would at least be a wide-awake drunk. Once again, it was a good show, but he had definitely played better. “Hey, I was okay for both of those shows.” He said defending his behavior. “That’s the point ‘okay’ won’t cut it tomorrow, Pete.” Ron said softy. “We gotta be the best we’ve ever been.” “Exactly.” Ass added sincerely looking directly into Pete’s eyes. “Exactly.” Ben echoed. An observer to this point, Chelsea listened closely to the band members. She had a vested interest in the success of the band. The last couple of months had been a endless thrill ride for her. She had been places she only dreamed about and there was so much money they could literally do anything they wanted. She imagined how much better it could get if they really hit it big. Although she originally followed the band for their music, the ability to do anything she wanted is what kept her with them. She wasn’t about to let that slip away from her. “I agree.” Chelsea joined in. “Pete, this is it for you guys. So, tonight we take it easy. No biggie, right?” “Me, too.” Emily added not wanting to be left out. About half way through the show, Big Ron noticed that Schneider was no where to be found. That could only mean one thing. He must be out back smoking a joint. Feeling a little hankering, Big Ron decided to seek him out. Walking toward the fire escape, Big Ron felt a little tug of guilt. Walking out on his son’s performance to get high seemed a little dodgy. But who would know? Besides, he had seen him play every show for the last three months. As he opened the door, heard the explosion of applause as Pete finished another amazing guitar solo. “They’ll be all right.” He told himself. Looking around, he didn’t see Schneider in any of the obvious places. Thinking that Schneider’s paranoia might be getting the better of him tonight, Big Ron decided to look in a few of the out of the way places. A quick check behind the dumpster proved to be fruitless. Then he saw a stairwell leading down to from the floor level. Big Ron assumed that is must lead to the lower level of the arena. When he got to the top of the stairs, he found a very long, narrow and steep staircase. He estimated that there were twenty to twenty-fives stairs. Even though he could see that Schneider was not down there, Big Ron walked down the steps and tried to open the door. Finding it locked, he cursed himself for putting himself in the position to walk back up all those steps. He began the arduous ascent. By the time he reached the fourth to the last step, he was panting heavily. Taking a moment to rest, he looked up to see that his head was upon street level while the rest of his body remained below. It provided him with a unique perspective of this unknown street in the middle of Salt Lake City. A couple of pedestrians happened by giving Big Ron an excellent view of their bodies from their feet to their knees. “That’s interesting.” He said out loud. The passersby didn’t even glance in his direction. Not only did they not hear him, he realized they didn’t see him either. It felt rather strange. But he quickly buried the thought because he saw Schneider hurrying up the sidewalk. Both hands were jammed into his front pockets, his shoulders were scrunched up around his neck and his head was tilted downward. “I doubt he would even see me if I was on the street.” Ron thought. As Schneider quickly passed, Big Ron caught a glimpse of his face. It was a grotesque combination of fear, anguish and hatred. It took Big Ron complete by surprise. But when he considered it for a moment, it seemed that he had seen that face on Schneider before on a couple of occasions. Silently, Ron watched as Schneider went straight to the bus. He saw him open an envelope, extract and read the contents. Surprisingly, after a quick glance, he crumbled the paper and put it in his mouth and began chewing. The hard swallow was obvious even from fifty feet away. “What the …?” Big Ron whispered out loud. Complete engaged, Big Ron felt as if he was watching something on TV. His curiosity piqued, he decided wait to see what Schneider did next rather than interrupting him. As he watched, Schneider opened the luggage area and climbed almost completely inside and pulled out what appeared to be a very heavy bag. To his amazement, Schneider pulled out several metal objects and quickly assembled them. Big Ron had no idea what it was, since he had never seen anything like it. As soon as he was done, he looked at his watched and smiled. Then immediately, he disassembled the object and put it away. The whole process took less than twenty minutes. When Schneider turn to walk back towards Big Ron, he had a very contented look on his face in stark contrast to the tormented façade he displayed less than a half an hour ago. The transformation was amazing. Not willing really sure how Schneider would react if he saw him, Big Ron decided the prudent thing would be to retreat down a few stairs so that he wouldn’t be seen. After he watched Schneider passed, Ron quickly ascended the stairs. Giving himself a moment to catch his breath, Big Ron approached Schneider. “There you are.” He called out when he got within twenty-feet of Schneider. “Huh!” Schneider gasped as he spun to face Big Ron. Seeing it was Big Ron did nothing to diminish the self-admonishment, he doled out. “How could you not know someone was behind you at that distance?” He asked himself silently. “What did he see?” “You smoking a joint or what?” Ron asked almost too enthusiastically. “Not yet. Just about to fire up.” Schneider replied feeling relived. Seeing Big Ron’s goofy smile set Schneider at ease. This time he was lucky. The punishment must have taken more out of him than he accounted for. He would not make an error like this again. It simply was not an option. “Cool, man.” Big Ron continued. “Mind if I join you?” “Nah, it’s cool.” Schneider replied as he reached into the top pocket of his field jacket. With an experienced hand, he put the hand rolled cigarette in his mouth, produced a zippo lighter from the front pocket of his jeans and lit it. Inhaling deeply, he felt the familiar burn in his lungs. Without exhaling, he handed the joint to Big Ron. The men smoked in silence. As passing it back and forth became more difficult, each pass of the joint required the men’s fingers to come in more close contact. Finally, Big Ron waved off a pass. “I’m good.” He said. Schneider shrugged, took on more drag and snubbed it out on the bottom of the lighter. He placed the roach in the top of the zippo lighter, closed the lid and returned it to his jeans pocket. “You ever in the military, Harrison?” Schneider asked. “Nope.” He replied. “Really?” Schneider asked somewhat surprised. “Kinda seem like you were. I was thinking Air Force, maybe. You seem to have the military vibe, you know.” “Yeah, I hear ya.” Big Ron replied. “Must be the football thing.” “Could be.” Schneider acknowledged. Not wanting to press too hard, Big Ron hesitated. But then he decided to press to find out a little more about this guy. “So, when did you get drafted?” Big Ron asked. Schneider’s veins turned to ice when he heard the word. “I volunteered the day I turned seventeen and a half.” He said proudly. “Volunteered?” Big Ron questioned almost in disbelief. “Wasn’t much of a decision for me though.” Schneider responded matter-of-factly. “I was born to be a soldier and my country needed me. Is that a problem?” “No, man. That’s cool.” Big Ron said cautiously. “Just thought everyone was like me.” “You some kinda protester a draft dodger?” Schneider asked in a agitated voice. Big Ron could see the change in Schneider’s demeanor. For a moment he weighed how advisable it was to push the man. “No, I didn’t protest or anything.” Ron explained. “I just didn’t want to get drafted. Then when I saw my number, I was happy. But I have always wondered what it would have been like if I would have gone or if I should have gone.” Schneider looked closely at Big Ron. Instantly, he knew he was being sincere. Other than the fact that he knew he could make Big Ron feel better, he wasn’t sure why he was going to say what he was about to say. “Look Harrison.” Schneider said directly. “You didn’t miss anything. As a matter of fact, you should count your lucky stars that you didn’t end up there. I did three tours and nothing good came out of any of them.” “Why did you keep going back?” Big Ron asked. Instantly, Schneider realized that no one had ever asked him that question before. Even though he knew the answer, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to share it with anyone. For some reason, he felt the flood gates open. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” He blurted out. “What do you mean?” Big Ron asked. “Didn’t you have any family?” “Sure, but you just can’t understand.” Schneider said painfully. “The shit I did during my first tour. It’s tough dealing with. I went home for awhile and I just couldn’t get over it. No one understood. They just couldn’t relate. Plus, they were all into the protest thing which pissed me off more than I can even tell you, man. It was fucked up. So, I went back.” Schneider paused, but he had started and he found he couldn’t keep the words from coming out. They had been buried for a long time and much like a deep splinter, they choose now to work there way out. “Fuck man, when I finally got back to the world, I had no idea who I was. Literally. My last tour ended in 1974. On my way home, I was sitting in a bar in fucking Saigon. Next thing I know, I wake up on a street in San Francisco and it’s 1981. I can’t remember shit from that happened in between. I barely remember anything that has happened to me since then either. All I know is that I was living in a double-wide in the mountains outside of Denver selling dope. That’s when I met Ronnie and all of a sudden, I got my life back.” “You’re telling me you lost almost thirty years of you life?” Big Ron asked incredulously. “Yeah.” He said flatly. “Last couple years, it’s been much better but I still have these big gaps …” “Like blackouts?” Big Ron helped. “Yeah and all I know is that the evil was … is … around.” He continued. “The evil?” Ron pressed. “Yeah, the evil.”. Schneider responded softly. After that, Schneider went silent. Feeling he had pushed as far as he could, Big Ron sat silently with Schneider. Just as he was about to suggest that they return to the show, Schneider look at him with a painful look in his eyes. “Pepsi Center.” He said softly. “What?” Ron asked him to repeat. “I didn’t say anything.” Schneider responded. <<< Chapter 39 Chapter 41 >>> More stories from Paul Gavin. Info on novels Paul Gavin's Storefront. 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