Jodi Compton - Haileys War

Also by Jodi Compton

SYMPATHY BETWEEN HUMANS THE 37 TH HOUR

Dedicated to the memory of
Stuart Compton, 19212009

Haileys War is a work of fiction and takes the usual liberties with the nonfiction subjects its story touches on. I drew on multiple sources in researching all of these subjects. However, I want to note that Haileys reflections on the history of the Golden Gate Bridge are largely derived from Tad Friends article Jumpers in the October 2003 issue of the New Yorker, a fascinating piece that also inspired the documentary The Bridge.

The moon rises over the mountains of central Mexico, a nearly full moon in a sky the deep blue of an hour past sunset.

Get up.

Im lying on a slope just down from a rural highway, lying in a mix of slate and grass and dirt that is damp with blood. There is dirt in my eyelashes and blood in what little of my hair I can see. There isnt much pain, but Im very, very tired.

Get up or youll die here.

My memories of what happened are inexact. I remember driving on a narrow highway through the mountains and into a dim tunnel with rough stone walls. Then this, looking up at the mountain ridge and the sky. I dont know how I got from the tunnel to here. It seems impossible, but I think I was shot.

I search my memories for some explanation. A rough voice: Youre one of our most promising cadets. I hate like hell to see this happen to you.

No, that was too long ago.

A younger voice: Pack up just what you need, Im getting you out of L.A.

Thats not it, either.

Im so tired, I just want to close my eyes. Except for that moon. Its getting brighter and higher, like God lifting his lamp, looking for his lost sheep.

I think the highway is up the slope, above me. If I were nearer to it, someone might see me. It might make a difference.

I get to my hands and knees, swaying, and put the waxing moon in my sights.

On your feet, soldier. You can do this. Youre made outta this.

Then I stand up.

Do you ever think about Jonah?

Jesus, is that my Bible? I havent opened that thing in years. So youre talking about the guy that was swallowed by a whale?

Yeah.

No, Id have to say I dont think about him. I wouldnt think you would, either. I didnt take you for particularly religious.

Im not. Thats my point, though. When youre not raised religious, you think of Jonah as the swallowed-by-a-whale guy, like Noah is the ark guy. But when you actually read the Book of Jonah, its not what you expect.

You read the whole book?

Its three pages long.

Morning in San Francisco. Jack Foreman, tall and thin, in his early forties, with a premature streak of gray in his light brown hair, was across the room, already dressed at quarter to eight, already having cleared away last nights Ketel One bottle and two glasses, showered, dressed, and fixed and consumed breakfast and an espresso. He was now scanning the headlines of both the San Francisco Chronicle and the Los Angeles Times, and at the same time keeping an eye on CNN with the sound off. I was still in his bed, naked, with my hair half raveled in the braids I forgot to take out last night, reading his Bible for no particular reason other than that it had caught my eye while Jack was still in the shower.

The thing thats strange about the story is, Jonah doesnt seem to be scared of anything, even when he should be.

No?

No. The story goes that God tells Jonah to go to the city of Nineveh to preach, and Jonah doesnt want to, so he gets on a ship for Spain. God sends a violent storm, and the ships crew is scared. But when they go down to the hold to find Jonah, hes sleeping.

Yeah?

Sleeping. Through a storm that has veteran sailors scared. So they wake him up and tell him, Were pretty sure we havent done anything to anger our gods, might you have done something to anger yours? And Jonah suggests that if they think this is the case, maybe they should throw him overboard.

Huh.

Theyre way out at sea. Jonahs effectively asking to be drowned. The crew says no at first, but later they decide hes right, and they throw him over, and then comes the whale part that everyone knows about. Thats what it takes for him to finally decide that maybe hes in trouble. He prays to Godits kind of a pretty poem, by the wayand God intervenes, so the whale spits him up onto dry land. And then he does go to Nineveh, and everyone in Nineveh really gets with the program, from the king on down. They repent in a big way. And Jonah isnt happy about it. He gets mad. He goes out in the desert and argues with God about destroying Nineveh.

He wants Nineveh destroyed?

Yeah, but the bigger point is, hes arguing with the God of the Old Testament, the all-powerful white-beard guy who used to strike people dead. Doesnt that seem a little insane? Shouldnt Jonah be a little more afraid?

You think Jonah was suicidal.

No. I mean, not necessarily.

Then whats your theory? You sound like youve been putting a lot of thought into this. You must have one.

No, sorry. Im just a bike messenger. I dont get paid enough to theorize.

Hailey he said, his tone a change of subject in itself.

I know. Youre ready for work. Ive got to get up and dressed and out. Ill hurry. I was already sliding his Bible back onto the bookshelf.

Jack was a newsman for the Associated Press, a Midwestern transplant to California by way of, apparently, everywhere. Photographs on the far wall of his studio, Jacks own amateur work, attested to the width and breadth of his reporting career. Fellow reporters, editors, photographers, and other acquaintances looked out from pictures taken in the worlds capitals and war zones, places Jack had been a correspondent.

He and I had crossed paths several times at the courthouse, where he covered motions and trials and I, a bike courier, dropped off and picked up legal papers. But we didnt get to know each other until the Friday night Id literally backed into him in a tiny, crowded Asian grocery. When, after a few minutes of conversation, he asked me if I wanted company for dinner, I surprised myself by saying yes. Maybe it had been so long since Id seen a guy who was neither a metrosexual nor a pierced and dreadlocked bike messenger that he had been exotic to me.

He was the first guy I ever slept with who wore boxer shorts. I didnt tell him that, our first night together. Guys have lost erections over less.

Now, as I was pulling on my long-sleeved thermal shirt and cargo pants, Jack said, Are you hungry? Theres bagels.

I shook my head. Ill eat later. It was my day off, and a small plan for the morning was forming.

I sat on the floor to put on my boots. When I looked up, Jack was watching me.

He said, Every time I see you lacing up those boots, I think Im sleeping with an undercover DEA agent.

Bates Enforcers, heavy-soled black lace-ups with a side zip, draw a lot of attention.