A Life of Death: Episodes 5 - 8 Page 3

  “Go on,” she ordered. Her wide eyes and peaked eyebrows illustrated her curiosity. I reached in with a knowing hand and plucked the ball from the box.

  * * *

  The overhead light vanished and suffused me in darkness. Wind cascaded around me, buffeting my jeans and body. The sleeves of my t-shirt quaked like flags in a tornado while ahead all I saw was what my lone headlight illuminated along the twisting road. I clung to the curves, enjoying the thrill of the ride. A bug slapped my helmet’s visor, and its wing quaked in the wind before tearing away. The front wheel weaved along the dotted lines as though they were cones, and Frank’s angry thoughts muttered into the night.

  Damn pipsqueak, can’t keep his trap shut. Everyone’s got secrets, right? he wondered rhetorically. Why’d he have to go and say those things? Dad didn’t do nothin’.

  But as the words flew through my mind, I heard a weaker, more subtle voice. But he did Frank, and you know it.

  Frank slapped his bare hand on the bike handle. Jeeze! I know, but he didn’t mean to. He’s my dad. I can’t just turn him in like that.

  But you have to, Frank, ushered his conscience. What would your mother think? What if something happens to Abigail or Gloria?

  “Aaaahhhhhhhhhhh!” he screamed through the blustering wind.

  The small voice echoed once more into his thoughts before fading away. You have to.

  Why’s it always got to be so hard? I know I do. I’ll tell the tattletale when I get home. Jesus! Frank’s thoughts astonished me.

  As he came to the conclusion of this internal dilemma he crested a hill, swept past a chiseled cliff face, and leaned into a sharp turn. Red brake lights flared ahead, too close for comfort. I watched through his eyes as the bike jerked to the left, but not far enough. The motorcycle met the corner of the rusted SUV with a loud crunch. The back of it leapt up, ejecting me over the red vehicle. But rather than stop, the old SUV picked up speed. I came down on its roof. My helmet jarred to the left under my weight and momentum. I ricocheted to the side and tumbled across the road. My vision spun and pain erupted as I bounced across the dirt and asphalt, but through it all, I glimpsed the bike trailing after the large vehicle, its forks stuck in the SUV’s bumper.

  The world spun around me like the worst carrousel ride I’d ever been on. The momentum carried me into the ditch beyond, and when I hit its upward slope, every part of my body made an anguished announcement. It hurt to breathe. I gulped for air, but it came in ragged gasps. My lips felt moist and cracked, and my skin blazed in unseen fire.

  I screamed, but no one answered. “Help!” I again pleaded after a shallow breath, but all that replied was silence. Even the birds and insects had fled or hidden, refusing to make themselves known. I shouted again and again, but the pain grew, and it became all I could do to breathe. As even that difficulty became too much, the moon overhead dimmed. The air stopped. It was as though an elephant had planted itself on my chest. My muted view of the forest disappeared and the darkest of nights cascaded around me.

  * * *

  I blinked away the bright light that erupted in my eyes. Forms collided and I found myself back in my room. Paige was perched on one hand, the other hovering an inch away from me as the world solidified.

  Once I was steady, I stuttered, “H-h-how long was I out?”

  “Not long. Your eyes were actually open, but it was like you were staring into space. What did you see?”

  I took a large breath and sat for a minute. I exhaled and took another. Paige watched in silent anticipation. Taking a third large gulp, I let out a slow, pleasurable breath, enjoying what moments before seemed futile.

  “Sorry… I just missed it.”

  Paige’s face twisted in confusion. “Missed what?”

  “Breathing.”

  Her jaw dropped a few inches. “You can’t… what… I-I don’t understand.”

  “You remember what the doc said about internal bleeding?”

  “Yes,” she answered, waiting for me to continue.

  “I’m pretty sure he bled into his lungs or something, because he couldn’t breathe by the end. That’s how he died.”

  “He drowned in his own blood,” Paige blurted in disgust.

  “Yeah… I couldn’t… he couldn’t breathe.”

  Paige shook her head and shivered. “I don’t know how you can stand to do it!”

  “It’s not like I enjoy it, that’s for sure. But I don’t really have a choice, now, do I?”

  “I guess not,” she whispered.

  “The good news is, I found out what happened to his bike.”

  The pitying look she’d given me now mingled with an excited smile. “You did! Where is it?”

  “Well, that might be a bit more difficult. I’m not sure where it is, but I saw the SUV. The bike actually got stuck in its bumper.”

  “And the person didn’t stop?”

  I shook my head. “They slowed down. I—Frank slammed into her and she sped up and drove down the road. It might have fallen off along the drive, but if it didn’t come loose after that impact, I doubt it just came off unless she was driving over curbs or something. Besides, if it were along the road, wouldn’t the cops have found it?”

  “Yeah,” Paige agreed. “So, it might be at her house, maybe even still stuck to her vehicle?”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I replied. “We just have to find that SUV.”

  “Did you see her plate number?”

  “No, but I think it was a Virginia plate. The driver’s probably a local.”

  “Yeah, but no matter where they’re from, they must’ve heard the impact.”

  “It sounded loud to me so I would think so, but they didn’t stop.”

  Paige thought for a few seconds. “Well, it was late. Maybe the driver was tired.”

  “Or drunk,” I proposed.

  She nodded. “Yeah, could be. Frank was.”

  My thoughts returned to the white dotted lines weaving beneath me. “Yep,” I added.

  “So how do we find it?”

  “Well, they probably don’t live too far away if the driver was drunk. I’m sure they were just going home, but shouldn’t we call the police?”

  “And tell them what, Alex?” Paige asked. “That you relived his death—yeah, they’ll believe that. Wasn’t it you that told me—”

  “Right… right. I know.”

  Her brow furrowed in thought. “But we call them anonymously.”

  Alex considered the idea. “Wouldn’t it be better with evidence? Otherwise, they might just think it’s a prank.”

  Paige nodded as though the matter were decided. “We should start at some of the streets that branch off fifty-eight, ahead of where Frank hit her.”

  I nodded and glanced out my small bedroom window. We hadn’t been home long and the sun was still high above. “We’ve got time. Do you think your parents would lend you the car?”

  “They might. Let me call and ask.”

  I motioned to the phone on the wall. She picked up the receiver and dialed. After a brief conversation, she nodded with a smile and hung up. “We’re set, although they think we’re going to a movie.”

  “Good. We’ll figure out a good one on the way. Need a solid alibi.” I tossed the stress ball in the box and chirruped, “Let’s go.” I grabbed my coat out of the closet and carried the box into the living room, dropping it where I’d found it. I thanked the drunk as we swept through the room, but he didn’t respond.

  Chapter 25

  Unwelcome Guests

  We hopped a bus to Paige’s house, grabbed the keys, and motored to the outskirts of town. Within the hour, we found ourselves on the same stretch of pavement I’d seen in Frank’s memory. Paige slowed the old sedan, but not so much that she blocked traffic. She pulled to the side as cars approached from behind, allowing them to pass. We searched the road even though the bike wasn’t likely to have detached. As we finished the long stretch of forested asphalt, we came upon a neighborhood of streets branching off
the main avenue. We turned down Pruitt and perused the cars and houses.

  Once we’d passed a couple intersecting streets, Paige asked, “So how do we keep track of all the streets we’ve gone down?”

  “I say we go parallel to this street until we run out of neighborhood, then we can come back and go the other way.”

  “Okay,” she muttered, spinning the wheel and taking the last street in the subdivision. Once she reached the next neighborhood, she turned left and backtracked to fifty-eight.

  The houses were very similar, most having been built during the depression. Paint flaked off their siding as though they were rotting. Those that were better cared for appeared out of place. Groomed and manicured yards were sporadically spaced throughout the neighborhood. As Pruitt turned to Avery, and Avery to Lee, we found that the designers seemed to run out of ancestral names. We turned from Lee onto Opossum Hollow and descended between growing mountains. The forest closed in, hiding the houses and cars from view. The paved road turned to dirt and Paige turned around.

  “Let’s try another road. I don’t think this one’s getting us anywhere.”

  I agreed in silence, scanning our surroundings for a second time. The sun was nearing the treetops, and hours passed like seconds.

  “Okay, now to Hollow’s Bottom Road,” she mumbled, turning onto another shaded street.

  As the sun disappeared behind a row of pines, its dwindling rays glinted off chrome handlebars in the driveway ahead. An aging sport utility vehicle sat in front of an old ranch house, almost hidden amongst the long limbs of a weeping willow. It was parked under the tree, half in the yard. And behind it was a familiar bike. The front forks were lodged in the vehicle’s rusted bumper. Paige slowed as it came into view.

  “Is that it?”

  “Yeah, it is. Who would have thought?” Once we were within a couple houses, I whispered, “Pull up here. I’ll check it out. She may not even realize its there.”

  “Who would go all day without realizing there was a bike stuck to your bumper?” she asked with a comical giggle.

  “The same person who’d park in their yard,” I retorted, shutting the sedan’s door.

  I crept along the shadow-strewn sidewalk and watched the house’s windows. A television flashed in the living room. With measured steps, I snuck up to the house and hid behind the large tree. I glanced around, but no one was watching. I stole across the yard and knelt next to the bike. The keys were still in the ignition, but it wasn’t running. It must have shut off when Frank was thrown. I doubted the driver would have shut it off and left it there, visible for all to see.

  Self-doubt seeped through my shirt and down my spine. What if I’m wrong? What really happened?

  I laid a cautious hand on the handlebars and was thrust into the vision I’d seen hours before. It was the same.

  Couldn’t I have done something to stop it? I wondered. The question wound through my mind like a threaded needle. Each time it went full circle, I came to the same conclusion, No. I can make sure the jerk that did this goes behind bars though, I concluded with finality.

  Opening my eyes, I found that the sun had vanished from the sky. I shot a fearful glance at the house, but saw nothing through the darkness. Grasping the handlebars, I tried to pull the bike free, but only succeeded in disturbing the neighborhood silence. The metal forks squealed as they grated on the abused chrome bumper.

  The squeak of a screen door opening echoed from the house. I jerked harder and put all my weight into it. The effort was like nails running down a chalkboard and the bike refused to budge.

  Footfalls echoed down the rickety porch steps, across the walkway, and around the SUV. “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” a woman shouted from the opposite side of the vehicle.

  Time slowed with each step. Within seconds she’ll be on me, I thought with growing panic. I grabbed the only thing I could, the bike keys and shoved them into my jean pocket.

  Headlights passed by and tires squealed. “Get in!” hissed Paige through the passenger window. I turned and dove into the car. The engine revved as she mashed the gas pedal, and the sedan sped down the street.

  When I’d righted myself, I peered in the side mirror and watched the woman stare after us. Little was visible, but her robe hung loose and made ominous shadows in the rising moonlight. She looked like a frazzled witch in the diminishing distance. I watched as she turned and stared at the bike before we swung around a bend.

  “Jesus! Where’d you learn to drive, NASCAR?” I shouted, struggling to maintain my seat as the tires squealed.

  She evened out and parked between two cars. The keys jingled as she pulled them from the ignition and punched the button for the lights. In moments the night shrouded us, but her quaking hands still rattled next to me. I covered them in mine and the shaking settled to random quivering.

  “It’s okay. You did great,” I whispered. I brought the back of her hand to my lips and kissed it. “You were wonderful. She would’ve caught me if not for you.”

  The tremor ran through her body and into her voice as she said, “She w-wouldn’t have done anything m-more than brush your hair.”

  I cocked my head to the side and questioned whether I’d heard her right. “Combed my hair?”

  “Yeah, I saw it. The porch light came on right before she ran out of the house. She was holding a brush over her head, like she might fight off a thief with it or something.”

  I cackled at the thought and Paige joined in with a halfhearted chuckle while she attempted to calm her nerves.

  “Okay, you feeling better?”

  She nodded and took a deep breath, then blew it out. “Yeah, sorry, that’s not an everyday thing for me.”

  “I know.” I patted her hand. “But now that we found the bike, we’ve got to do something. She knows the bike’s there. I watched her look it over. So, we don’t have a lot of time. I’m sure she’ll try and get rid of it as soon as she realizes what happened.”

  “Yeah, it won’t be long. Did you get it free?”

  “Nah, it isn’t budging,” I answered, “but I don’t think it’ll go far.” I lifted the keys from my pocket and dangled them between us. Moonlight glinted off the rusted, metal baseball hanging from one end.

  “Then, she probably can’t get it free either. Even if she does, it’ll buy us time for her to find a hiding spot,” added Paige with obvious relief.

  I shook my head. “I doubt she can. If there’s someone else in the house, they might be able to help her. We need to watch in case she does.”

  “Yes,” interrupted Paige, more composed now that her mind was churning through the events, “but first we need to tell the cops. If we don’t, they’ll have as much time as they want.”

  “Yeah, but what if they get rid of it before we get back.”

  “Well, we don’t have much choice now, do we?”

  As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. However, there was one option she hadn’t mentioned. “What if you go get the cops and I stay and watch? I’ll hide down the street, just in sight. Hopefully, she won’t see me.”

  “But what if she does?”

  “I’ll deal with it,” I blurted. After a moment of stunned silence, I adding, “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just… on edge.”

  “I know. I am, too,” she mumbled. Passing headlights illuminated her face. Her eyes glistened with wet luminescence.

  “Look, Paige, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I really didn’t.”

  “I know you didn’t mean it, but I don’t want to leave you out there.”

  The look in her eyes ate at me, more so because I felt the same for her. “Look, it’s like you said, she’s just an old woman with a brush.”

  A smile crested her lips. She sniffled and wiped away the unshed tears. “I know.” She lifted the keys in firm hands and started the car, then rounded the block and stopped before reentering Hollow’s Bottom Road.

  I jumped out and whispered, “Remember, it’s 218 Hol
low’s Bottom Road.”

  She nodded. “I’ll find a pay phone and be right back.”

  Good to her word, she shoved the gearshift into reverse, spun the car around, and left me on the vacant street corner. Her taillights disappeared as she swung onto the next street, and I walked the other way. Turning onto the woman’s road, I slowed and attempted to walk on air. The quiet padding of my sneakers was intensified by the silence. I kept a look out for locals prowling about the night, but the only one present was Frank’s murderer. A lantern now illuminated the rear end of the large vehicle. Metal squeaks echoed through the trees as the woman struggled with the bike. A bearded gentleman stood watching, his shirt thrown wide to reveal a low hanging belly.

  “Come on Shelly, that ain’t gonna do it,” he shouted, hands on his hips.

  She struggled to free it a few more times, but with no success. With their attention diverted, I tiptoed closer and hid behind a van parked two doors down and across the idle street.

  She turned to him and raised the comb over her head. “Now listen here, Barkly, it’s stuck. Why don’t you try it?”

  “Fine, woman, out of the way,” he ordered with a thick southern accent and swept her aside with an outstretched arm. He stepped up to the bike, cracked his back and fingers as though testing them, and placed his bulky hands on the handlebars. With his feet planted, he jerked back. The bumper jarred on the metal forks and groaned under the pressure. Barkly let go for a moment and took a few deep breaths.

  “See, it ain’t that easy,” the woman whined.

  “Dammit, woman!” he spat. “One more time. I’ll get it this time.”

  “Yeah right,” she muttered while he repositioned his hands and tried again.

  The bumper groaned once more, but did not release its captive. The large man straddled the bike and seated himself on Frank’s seat. Placing both feet on the bumper, he strained to pull it free. Utter surprise blossomed on his face as the bike shot away and rolled down the driveway. The man caught himself and threw his feet onto the pavement, stopping the cycle’s momentum.