Re-Deal: A Miss Guided Adventure

Chapter 1

"Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by doing so some people have entertained angels without knowing it." Hebrews 13:2

Strong hands held Matt down while someone tied a band tightly around his arm. He felt the sharp jab of a needle. His lungs constricted. He couldn’t breathe. He gasped desperately for air. His heart pounded so hard he feared it might explode inside his chest. His head felt fuzzy and heavy, then he crumpled to the floor. His world went black.

As time passed, Matt saw flashes of light and heard loud voices arguing as he slipped in and out of consciousness. He felt himself being dragged across the floor, then lifted into the air. He felt like he was floating. Suddenly, his body landed on something hard. He ached and throbbed all over, and he faded into blackness again.

Matt continued to slip in, then out, in, then out again. He tried to pull himself out of the darkness. He blinked, trying to clear the confusion and make sense of the blur around him.

Someone shook him by the shoulders. “Mr. Matthew McCain, I bet you’d rather answer ta Matthew than Magoo. Am I right?”

As Matt slowly came to, he could hear the voice of a woman, using the hated name Magoo. He opened his eyes to see a strange lady gawking down at him. He quickly slapped the woman’s hands from his face and jerked up to a sitting position.

“I can’t stand that name! Now get your hands off my eyes!” Matt rubbed his temples. “Oh, man, does my head ever hurt bad.”

Although the pounding in his head felt like a sadistic gremlin banging with a sledgehammer, he was relieved to still be alive. What had he done to himself? His fuzzy head was surfing through emotions, thoughts, and feelings he didn't have the strength to recognize, sort out, or identify.

“I must be dying, or dead ... or something?”

The woman patted his hand. “I saw what wicked evil the Cyphers did ya.”

Matt jerked his hand back. He didn't remember much, but he did remember that Big Lew Cypher was determined Matt would deal his rigged poker game.

“Who are you?" he asked the woman. "What are you here for? Did that wicked Big Lew send you to bring me back? If he did, I’m not going!”

“I’m not here ta send you back anywhere. I'm here to help you.”

“Help me? Sure you —” Matt stopped in mid-sentence when he realized he could see her face clearly. His eyes went wide with amazement. “Hey, I’m looking at you.”

He let a few moments pass as he tried to grab hold of something ... anything that would root him in some reality he could understand. He hadn’t seen worth two bits in years, ever since Damen's sadistic henchmen had forced him to stare into the direction of the 104-degree blazing-hot sun. He had squeezed his eyes closed, but his attackers spread his eyelids apart, forcing him to stare into the blinding white light. A shadow passed across his face — a large magnifying glass! The magnifying glass flashed, and the sun zoomed in and filled his view. His eyes were fried like eggs on a skillet. Ever since that terrible day seven years ago, his burned eyes had been just about useless.

“What’s going on here?” He looked around in a panic. There was no horizon, no wall or ceiling, only endless space. Matt said in wonder, “I can actually see you clearly, and you’re ... beautiful.”

“ Why thank ya, Mr. Matt.” The woman moved her face closer to his and softly touched him on his cheek. ”Y er a sweet talker all right, a real sweet talker. But, of course, ya can now see me. Yer out cold! It just might give yer heart a chance ta catch up with yer stubborn, ornery numbskull.”

Matt was struck by a memory. Stubborn, ornery numbskull. Those were his mother’s words right before he knocked her down and ran away. He had a hard time dealing with his mother. She was always praying and fretting over him, and when she tried to convince him to stay away from Damen Cypher and his henchman Carlos, Matt just lost it. Now this unknown female was calling him stubborn, ornery numbskull just like his mother.

“Don’t talk like that.”

“I beg yer pardon,” the strange woman said. “That’s about how yer kind mama spoke it. Don’t ya reckon?”

Matt turned away and swallowed a sob. He felt guilty for telling his warm, caring mother to, shut up and ... worse.

“Come on.” The woman took his hand. “Push forward, Mr. Matthew. Look at me while ya got the chance.”

Matt felt like he was in some kind of no man's land. He didn’t know where he was or who this stranger was, but her kindness and beauty struck him. He turned back toward the strange lady with a sniff.

The woman smiled. “Remember when ya clamored out ta yer Maker, when they were throwin’ ya out like the garbage?”

That's what the floating feeling had been ¾ he had been thrown out of the window of Tom Andrews' apartment. Damen, along with Carlos and another of the Cypher slaves, had taken him there for a mild pick-me-up. But once there, they made fun of him, demanding he perform his card tricks to entertain them. Tom Andrews even said his great grandfather had supposedly been a card mechanic. Then instead of giving him the mild pick-me-up he wanted, they had ...

Matt shook his head, then winced in pain. He wouldn't think about what they had done to him. He remembered calling out for help, maybe even saying " Oh, God. If it's not too late, please help me!" However, he couldn't understand what this woman meant by " clamored out ta yer Maker."

“It was Damen and them. I said I didn’t want it. But they forced it on me.”

The woman ran her delicate fingers through his long stringy hair and said, “Mr. Matthew, please let the hogs lie and give yer attention ta me. We got but a small parcel of time here, so we must get started quick.”

Matt could hardly believe he could see her pretty face as she spoke. And her clothing — an old-fashioned blue and pink dress and flowery hat — confused him. Staring wide-eyed at her, he said, “Yes, yes, ma'am.”

“There’s a season ta squat still,” she explained, “and another for action. Ya grabbed the ear of the Almighty, Mr. Matthew. Now yer future depends on how ya step up and proceed with yer mission.” She took his hands in hers. “Now ya better draw yourself together and get ahead of them Cyphers before they whip your kindhearted papa like they done yer wonderful grandpappy, Lucas.”

“Oh no!” Matt’s stomach flipped with fear. “They’ll hurt my dad?”

“Yes, ya got it. Mr. Matthew, they’ll torment more than that, and I can’t tell ya how far tardy we are in addressin’ the situation.”

Matt snapped back. “Are you blaming me? It’s not my fault! I can’t do anything —"

She cut him off. “Mr. Matt, it’s okay. Slow down. It does no good ta fatalistically fuss about the past. Y a know the account, how yer great granddaddy was swindled out of it all.”

“Not Lucas the Loser again,” Matt mumbled. He had spent his whole life suffering for the stupidity of his great great grandfather. “Will my family ever be free of the McCain curse? They say he was cheated,” Matt scoffed.

“It's history, Mr. Matthew. I have a very pleasant reminiscence of yer wonderful grandfather. Ya know if the human race didn’t bear in mind any history, it would be perfectly happy. But my boy, that’s not good. Man should learn from his past.”

Matt tried to shake his head clear. His brain started to spin again just from listening to her strange chatter. He realized his family would never be free from the Lucas curse. “Yeah, sure lady, whatever you say.”

Lady , thought the angel in human guise. Ya don't recognize me, but I have a mission. Sir Gabriel himself assigned me, his mirthful heavenly hostess, to put pleasure and paradise’s peace back into the McCain descendants’ pitiful, dirt-poor, laboring lives. You, Matthew McCain, will vanquish the remorseless sinful Cyphers, their leader Big Lew, and his followers of forsaken fiends.

She said none of this to her new charge, though. “Mr. Matthew, when I feel blue, I start breathing again. Now, come on, my fine boy. Ya know it in yer heart. Yer good daddy sat sun ta moon teachin’ ya their trickery and all about the genuine wild-wild West. I know y a understand from listening ta that wonderful speech ya made so many years prior, that when the Creator scooped up a fist full of that grass-growin’ dirt, then blew into it, man is no longer inert soil, Mr. Matthew, so ya can set a high value on who you are."

"How do you know about the speech I gave back in junior high?"

"The Divine Creator made ya’ll gifted with ability and comprehension. Why yer explanation of creation was masterful. Ya even reminded folks that oranges are already sliced in the peel."

Matt asked again, "How do you know about that?"

"The Almighty made ya with what it takes to make it better for yourself. I know from listening’ to yer God-fearin’ Mama, you understand what I’m sayin’.”

Matt gave up on getting a straight answer to his question. “ All right, lady. I believe you. But I’m only a Loser McCain. You can ask anyone — McCains are all flops. But," he continued, “if I would've been there, before the Lucas curse came on our family, things would've been different. I would never have been so stupid to fall for such a moronic shell game. My dad taught me how to control the cards. In fact, that tyrant Big Lew says I'm the best card mechanic he's ever seen.”

“Oh, please, please, Mr. Matthew. Never exalt yourself. Pride always precedeth a fall. Besides, if ya swindle the money ya win, it’s the devil’s money, and it ain’t worth a plug nickel.”

“ Well, lady, you don’t really have anything to worry about anyway. I’m only a loser, from a long line of losers.”

“Well, cheating is not the way we’re gonna approach the circumstance anyhow. Now the real question is — d o ya have true faith in the most excellent Author ya earlier clamored out to?”

Matt was puzzled by the question. In his heart, he really did want to trust God like his mom did. He was so empty inside he thought anything would be better than his miserable life now. He told her with a slow nod, “Of course, I do. I really want to have the faith. But God doesn't care about me. I'm just a worthless Loser McCain.”

“Oh no! That’s not true. He does care. And I know the answer; it’s easy. The Good Book says if ya have a mustard-seed faith, we can turn the tide back, travel outside-of-time, go backward, and reconstruct the past. But first, my boy, we must get ya whole again.”

Matt’s mind was in another spiral of confusion. Go back? Time? Once more he tried to understand her. But smoke sifted through his mind, obscuring his thinking. He slowly faded away into the empty darkness. What a weird dream this is, he thought hazily as the darkness consumed him. Matt watched as this strange, crazy, but very beautiful woman slowly faded to a blur, then disappeared.

###

Matt felt a woman's hands shaking his shoulders. “Mr. Matthew, it’s time ta wake up and consume some vittles.”

Matt slowly came to. He felt someone helping him up to a sitting position against a washing machine. As he gradually became conscious, he realized he was waking up in a laundry room. Wow, he thought. What a bizarre dream. He sluggishly opened his eyes and felt a shock of deep disappointment to discover the damage to his sight was still there. His mind cursed the reality.

What a downer to discover that seeing normally again had been only a dream. Things were still as blurry as they had been before. Matt was sure the aftereffects from the drugs made things seem to move by themselves. Spinning, crawling, like herds of spiders in his shadowy vision. He’d become a bubbling caldron of conflicting thoughts and emotions.

The frightening day at Tom’s came back to him. He realized Damen wanted him dead and knew he was lucky to still be alive after that drug concoction. Once and for all he had to get away from that evil clan.

He looked around and felt sick inside, discouraged to realize it had only been a stupid dream that he could see. He had to go back to that embarrassing way of trying to see by looking out of the sides of his eyes. He hated it. People always looked at him like some kind of freak, just because they couldn’t tell who he was looking at when he was talking.

Was the beautiful lady with that odd Southern voice just a dream? he wondered. Had she really been talking about going back in time? Matt knew one thing for sure — his head throbbed and his brain was still fuzzy. He squinted hard to try and get a peek of her. Yes, yes, she's the same woman I saw clearly in that curious dream.

He spoke up. “Wow! Lady, I could see! ... But? ... What did I see?”

The woman moved Matt’s hair off his feverish face. “Mr. Matthew McCain, have ya returned ta the land of the here and now?”

“I ... don’t ... know. Maybe. I think so.”

“ Just relax a spell. And have faith. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Mat thought he could hear a quiet confidence in her voice. He said, “Okay, I’m listening.”

“Well,” the woman said with a shake of her head. “I suppose the Master has a plan for the skimpy little piece a material He furnished in yer case. But I can only suppose what it might be.” She squeezed his skinny, emaciated arm. “My-my-my, yer just flesh on sticks! Yer nothing like yer grandpappy, Lucas McCain.”

What does Lucas the Loser have to do with anything? Matt thought. Oh no, I’m gonna lose it! He fell to the side and ejected the contents of his stomach. He hacked and choked until nothing was left but bile and phlegm. Embarrassed, he muttered, “Sorry, lady ... couldn’t hold it. That was really gross." He wiped his mouth on his coat sleeve.

"Emptying that nauseated, sick stomach shoulda made ya feel a little better."

Nearby, Juan was running back to the laundry room. He wondered who that quaintly-dressed woman was and what her sudden appearance could mean for him.

He'd been trying to escape from Cypher hell ever since his poor sweet sister had been used by an old man until she was just a shadow of herself, then sent to work in the factories. She had disappeared, and Juan had been following orders as a Cypher slave as he built up his karate skills and looked for a way out.

He couldn't stop them from shooting Magoo up with heroin and throwing him out the window. After Matt had been tossed through the window, Juan did something he had never done before. He whispered a little prayer. ‘Ey Man in the Sky, if Yer up there, then please get us out of this rat-hole.

They didn't get out of the rat-hole, and now Big Lew blamed him that Matt was missing. Juan had to find the missing dealer and get him back in time for the big Hold’em game, or he'd be the one that paid.

He'd found Magoo and was trying to bring him round when the weird woman grabbed him from behind, called him by name, and asked him to help her get Matt out of the bushes.

Since he would be the one in trouble if Matt didn't recover in time to deal the game, Juan went along with the strange female and helped drag McCain into the laundry room of the apartment building.

When he asked the woman who she was, she answered, "“I am just another created being who knows yer in trouble if Matthew departs his earthly body. Now tell me, do ya want ta help save him — and yourself?”

“‘Ey man, whatever you’re saying, I want to do it.”

“Then, please, rustle me up some vittles. Somethin’ that will stick to the poor boy's ribs.”

“ Vittles?" Juan frowned. “Are vittles food?”

“That’s it. He’s lackin’ protein, my young friend.”

The woman took her tiny purse off her arm, opened it, and removed a shiny coin. She handed it to Juan and said, “Take this for pay. Now, please, pound yer dawgs and hurry!”

“Pound my what?”

“Why, your feet, silly boy. Now go.”

The coin felt unusually heavy. Juan looked more closely at it and saw that it was gold with a date of 1882. Overwhelmed, he asked, “Um, this is real gold. Are you sure you want me to spend it?”

“Yes, and ya may keep any change. Now please, hurry!”

He considered keeping the valuable coin and running away from her, the wicked Cyphers, and the rest. Yet, something inside told him to go back and to do exactly what she said.

Juan wondered if this might be some kind of weird answer to his and Magoo’s desperate prayers. He'd heard the Man in the Sky worked in mysterious ways. But on second thought, he decided he was a fool to believe anyone or any God would care about a little Mexican slave like him.

Nevertheless, he'd decided to use his own money for the food instead of the old gold piece. He quickly grabbed four burgers and two fries at the local Gag-in-a-Bag. He downed three of the burgers and the two fries as he dashed back.

###

Matt was helping the kind woman clean up his mess when he heard a noise. His head perked up like a squirrel as someone entered the room.

Juan ran in and saw Big Lew’s favorite dealer awake and sitting up. He was relieved and glad inside, but not for Big Lew, who was only using this poor guy to make him more money. Juan walked over to the odd-talking woman and handed the bag over to her.

“‘Ey man, here’s the grub for Loser Magoo.”

She took the meal and nodded with a smile. “Thanks, Mr. Juan.”

“‘Ey man, here's your money.” Juan held up her coin. “It was worth more than the food, so I used my own cash.”

She took Juan’s hands into hers and fastened his fingers around the gold coin. “Honest Juan, you keep it. It’s round, so trade it in for some wheels.”

Wheels? Juan wondered. What the hell is she talking about now?

Matt recognized the voice and his blood started to boil. I know that rat! It's one of Damen’s thugs. He looked out of the corner of his eye and saw the blurry image of the punk who traveled with Damen. Matt’ s adrenaline started pumping; his heart started racing. He grabbed the top of a washer and tried to pull himself up to a standing position. However, he was so weak he started to fall.

Before he dropped, the woman reached over and caught him. Matt ignored her help, shoved her away, charged in a fury toward his nemesis, and knocked the punk back outside into the grass and the spraying water sprinklers.

Matt yelled as loud as his feeble voice allowed. “You creep! You tried to kill me! I hate that name Loser Magoo!”

He tackled Juan to the ground. The two yelled and wrestled in the wet grass and dirt. But the younger Juan effortlessly subdued the weak blind boy.

He scoffed, “Yer a tough mother, huh?” He broke loose, shoved Matt away, then dusted himself off. “Whoa, yer macho man, huh? Wimp!”

The woman stepped over to Matt and said, “Boy, when ya wake up ta a matter, ya sure do let loose.” She brushed him off as he tottered, trying to keep his balance. “Look at you, Mr. Matthew McCain. It looks like ya got a heaping case of the drunken staggers. Now, Matthew, this ain’t how a McCain does it.”

She grabbed Juan with her dainty little hands and pulled him over to Matt. As the weird woman grabbed him, Juan noticed her hands were Herculean in their strength.

“Mr. Matthew, this here’s the first friend you’ve had since yer eyes got burned. He’ll help ya save yer pa — Juan bears the name of a great man of God. Now shake and make up.”

What the hell is she saying now? I bear the name of a great man of God? I have no name, Juan told himself. She must be from outer space or something. But after feeling the strength in her grip, I’m not going to argue.

He reluctantly offered his hand first and said, “Sorry, McCain.”

Matt took the proffered hand and said in a voice laced with doubt, “It’s okay.”

The woman nodded as they shook hands. “Now that’s more like it, boys.” She removed the burger from the sack and handed it to Matt. “ Now, please chow down, Mr. Matt.”

Matt had no strength left. He was winded, scared, and cold. That short skirmish took everything out of him. He was panting hard as he looked out of the sides of his eyes, groping for her hand. With hands that shook, he took the hamburger, unwrapped it, and buried his teeth into it.

Juan looked at his watch, started to panic, and looked down the street. He knew Damen would be looking to see if he had found Magoo.

“I can tell yer chuck full of anxiety, Mr. Juan. Ya want ta help see what we can do ta untangle this clutter?” the strange woman asked.

“Help?” Juan jeered. “‘Ey man, you’re just a girl — "

“Why, thank ya, Mr. Juan,” she said with a curtsy. “Ya finally noticed that I’m part of the female side of creation.”

“Huh? Female side of what?”

“Why yes,” she replied smiling. “Ya called me a girl, not ‘Ey man.’”

"Yeah, you're a girl, and ... Cyphers kill!”

But on the other hand , Juan thought, there's something special about this woman. And if it's time for me to break free from the Cyphers, maybe she can help.

“‘Ey man, if you think you can do something to help, tell us what.”

“Yeah, lady,” Matt mumbled. “How? We need help, a gun or something, not one little lady.”

“Boys, the situation is like this. Sometimes the Almighty assigns someone ta answer yer prayers. Mother Teresa was on assignment, and yer favored with me.”

Matt was still trying to keep up with this woman’s blather. He asked, “So, you're ... like a nun?”

The incognito angel nodded pleasantly at the remembrance of her senior celestial associate. “Close enough. My name is Guided.”

“Did you say ... Mrs. Guided?” Juan asked.

“Oh no,” she told them with a smile. “I’m not wedded.”

Juan snorted, then laughed. “So you're Miss Guided?”

She nodded. “Yeah, choice name, huh? However, my boys, right now the chronometer is runnin’, and Mr. Matt needs ta be made whole again. Furthermore, Big Lew means ta go ta work on ya if we don’t leave here, fast.” The guardian gazed over at Juan. “ We need ta help put Humpty Dumpty back ta his prior wholeness. I know where. Let’s get! Quick!”

Re-Deal: A Miss Guided Adventure
©2002 Richard Turner

For more information, e-mail Richard at

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