A Life of Death: Episodes 5 - 8 Read online

  “Glory,” I shouted. She didn’t move. “Call the cops and an ambulance, Vivian!”

  I rushed to the little girl’s side and brushed aside her hair. She didn’t react. Lifting her head onto my knees, I felt her neck with two fingers… nothing. I lowered my cheek to her lips, but still felt nothing… no breath. Blood was clotted on her forehead and her arm was bent at an awkward angle.

  “Come on, Glory,” I pleaded and positioned my hands over her sternum. It had been years since I’d taken the CPR class, but it flooded back to me now. I cocked her head back and repositioned my hands. “One, two, three, four,” I counted, then repeated the process.

  Vivian grabbed the phone off the wall and tapped at it, but when she saw Glory, she drooped, losing all motivation. The floor came to meet her and she curled into a ball. “What have I done?” she sobbed as the phone fell from her hand.

  I watched, but couldn’t reach the receiver.

  “I got it,” added Abby, stepping over to my mother. She picked up the phone and dialed 911.

  Abby’s voice became background noise. I didn’t stop until the police arrived and until then, the only thing I heard was my voice, counting. All that I saw was Glory. I tried not to put too much pressure under my hands, but her small body was still. Tears streamed down my face and onto her dress, wetting it, but I couldn’t stop. When the medics arrived, a gloved hand grasped my shoulder and shifted me aside. The EMT slipped between me and Glory, blocking her face from view. I shuffled back and found Abby standing by my side. We watched in horror as the medic took over where I’d left off and another inserted a tube in her mouth. Minutes passed like hours as the two men worked, but they eventually stopped.

  “Mark the T.O.D.,” murmured the first technician.

  The other asked, “You sure?”

  “Yeah, she’s gone.”

  My stomach tightened into a knot as they laid a sheet over Gloria. Without me or Helen to protect her, she’d suffered the drunk’s wrath. It wasn’t her time!

  The drunk murmured something unintelligible from his huddled location a few feet away. Jaw locked, my teeth scraped together. I lunged at the prone form, sending a kick to his ribs that brought about a muffled oomph, but before I could do more a policeman pulled me away, yelling, “Get him outta here!” As other officers escorted the semi-coherent murderer from the house, my struggles died and muscles slackened.

  The rest of the evening whirled by. Officers asked Abby and I questions, but I remember very little of it. My attention was on Glory’s covered body. They lifted her small form onto a board and deposited her into an ambulance. The red and white lights flashed through the trailer’s windows like their own cosmic show, but the siren never came back to life. It left in muted silence, with my youngest sister in tow. Abby poked my arm. I turned back to an officer, who was taking notes.

  “What’d your father do?”

  “He wasn’t my father.”

  “Okay, what did your stepfather do?”

  “He beat us to pulps, murdered my sister, and murdered his ex-wife.”

  As though the first indictments weren’t enough, his eyes bulged with the last. “Where is she?”

  “I’m not sure where she is,” interjected Abby, “but I was there when he did it. I couldn’t stop him.”

  Pity entered his eyes as he looked on Abby’s frail form. It was as though she had just appeared and he was seeing her anew.

  “I know where she is,” I whispered. The other two looked to me with mouths agape.

  “I’ll show you.” I turned away from the house and officers.

  “Now?” asked the uniformed man, slipping his notepad into his shirt pocket. He slapped a few fellow officers on the backs and motioned for them to follow.

  “Grab a shovel,” I said over my shoulder. I felt empty, as though I’d cried everything out. Losing Glory was too much to bear. I wanted to slip into a corner like my mother had, but I commanded my body to move. The vacant lot wasn’t far.

  Chapter 28

  Wednesday

  October 12, 1995

  The following day was one I’ll never forget. I stayed home to take care of Abigail, who sulked in her room for the better part of the day. The phone rang after eight o’clock, but when no one answered they hung up. The caller tried twice more, but got no answer. I wasn’t ready to confront life without little Glory, and it appeared that no one else was either. At ten I forced myself from under the covers and limped to the bathroom as though I’d aged fifty years overnight. The adrenalin and shock had worn off, giving every part of my body a chance to complain. They were all shouting in chorus at the moment. The paramedic’s questions came to mind. I told him I was fine and a skeptical look passed over his face, but he hadn’t pushed further. The mirror explained his concern. My complexion was mottled and bruised all over again. The drunk’s belt had marred my cheek, leaving a distinct impression for the world to see. The hole in the belt end was even visible, a light spec in the middle of the red blotch. Puffy bags hid my eyes like sunken treasures. Turning from the painful visage, I slid into the shower. The hot water helped, and for once it lasted.

  When I’d finished, I retired to the living room. Stale cigarette smoke still permeated it. A shiver ran down my spine as I looked at the recliner. I passed it and lowered myself onto the couch. Thoughts of Frank, who’d lain there days before me, coursed through my mind. More of the ashy smell drifted off the couch. The lingering odor turned my mind from my stepbrother, instead reminding me of the drunk and his recent household reign. Crushed beer cans littered the floor and were piled at the base of the trashcan.

  How could such a man exist? I should have done something sooner. If only I’d… The guilt was too much to bear, but Paige’s words whispered to me, It’s not your fault. Her voice stopped the train of thought before it went too far down the tracks. It’s his fault. That bastard did it, just like he killed Helen.

  My concern for Gloria shifted to Abby who’d lost her entire family to his rage. When she didn’t appear by noon, I knocked at her door. “Abby?” There was no answer. I tried the knob. It turned and the door admitted me into the dim room. The only light snuck through the blinds. In the faint illumination, Abby tugged at her covers and rolled to face the wall. “Hey, Abby,” I whispered, but she ignored me. Accepting her solitary choice, I closed the door and went back to the vacant living room.

  Had Vivian awoke this morning?

  In a glance, I noted that no breakfast had been prepared. I padded down the hall and peered into her room. Heavy breathing greeted me, resounding through the room. It occurred to me what the phone calls early that morning must have been about. Like me, work was the last thing on her mind. I went to the phone and dialed her employer.

  “Sammy’s Shop Smart,” answered a gruff voice.

  “Hey, Blake. This is Alex, Vivian’s son.”

  It took a moment, but Blake made the connection. “Yeah… uh… Alex, I called earlier. Where’s Vivian? She didn’t make it in.”

  “That’s what I called about. Something bad happened last night. She’s gonna need some time off. She’ll be back, but she needs at least a day or two to sort things out.”

  “What happened? Is she all right?” he asked hurriedly.

  “Yes, Blake, she’s okay. She just needs some time to collect herself.”

  “Well, what happened?”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. I replayed the events of the last night and more tears threatened to return. They’d evidently had time to restock.

  “Uh, Alex?” he asked after an engorged silence.

  “Look, Blake. It was pretty bad here last night. The dru—I mean, Steve McCullin’s in jail where he belongs, but…”

  “Go on,” his voice whispered.

  “Gloria’s gone,” I blurted.

  “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

  The answer was obvious. Did I have to spell it out? “Gone. The bastard killed her!” The dam broke and tears coursed down my face, as though say
ing the words made it more real.

  “Oh…,” he answered, at a loss for words.

  I slammed the phone down, then gave into my emotions and fell into the recliner. Ignoring the smell, I tucked my knees under my arms and wept. I’m not sure how long I sat there, but no one interrupted my grief.

  By the time my face had dried the sun was setting through the window. A door at the far end of the hall slid shut. The subtle sound disturbed the silence of the mobile home. I lifted my head to find Vivian staring from the unlit hallway.

  “How are you holding up?”

  She shrugged. “So-so. You?”

  “About the same.”

  Vivian lifted her purse from the floor where it had fallen the previous night. “I’ll be back,” she murmured and strode for the door.

  “Where you going?” I asked, but the screen closed on my words. Her echoing footsteps were her only answer.

  “We all need a little time,” I murmured to the room.

  I lurched from the recliner and checked on Abigail. The room was silent, but muffled sniffles crept out from the covers. “Abby, I’m heading out for a while. I’ll be back soon. You okay?” I waited for a reply, but aside from her crying, there wasn’t one.

  I shut the door with care and slipped on a pair of shoes. I’m not sure what they were, but I know I forgot my jacket. By the time the cool autumn air hit me, returning to the warehouse of hellish memories was too much to ask. I trudged onward, setting my sights on the cemetery and my waiting father. The gates beckoned me forward and I ventured among the headstones. Even with the moon yet to rise and the dwindling sun’s rays, I found my way through the shadowed graveyard like the best of groundskeepers. He was waiting to hear my voice, proving himself to me each time I arrived. An inkling of doubt entered my thoughts when I approached, as though he might have moved or placed a sign stating No Loitering like all the local stores were doing. It didn’t matter how illogical the fear was, it persisted. But to my surprise, someone else was waiting, too.

  Vivian stood over his headstone, bouquet in hand, murmuring to him like a long lost lover. Upon hearing me approach, she turned and revealed the saddest face I’d ever seen. Grief seemed to have ingrained itself in her face with no thought of retreat. She acknowledged me with a silent nod.

  “Miss your father?”

  I nodded back. “Yes. I always wondered who left the flowers.”

  She attempted a halfhearted smile. “Well, you caught me. I’m guilty as charged.”

  “I’m glad to know it isn’t just me that misses him.”

  “It was never just you, Alex. I miss him, too.”

  “Yeah, but you have the drunk,” I shot back, unable to keep the contempt from my voice.

  She winced at the sting in my words, and shame heaped itself on my shoulders. No matter her past mistakes, I shouldn’t have thrown them in her face, not after losing Glory.

  She’s in pain too, I reminded myself.

  “Sorry,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “It’s okay. I know how you feel. I’ve made mistakes. I was only doing what I thought was right.”

  “How was marrying him right?”

  “What else was I supposed to do? How could I pay for everything?”

  “You would’ve done just fine. You paid for pretty much everything as is.” She didn’t realize it, but I had glanced at their financials once or twice when she’d left her checkbook on the table.

  “I’m not so sure. I have no idea what we’re going to do now.” A hint of panic entered her voice.

  I pitied the woman for worrying. She did so much and didn’t realize it. “We’ll be fine. Steve and Frank drank more than they brought in anyway.” I was about to add that Frank hadn’t worked a day in his life, but thought better of it. “We’ll make it. Dad knows it, and so do I. I’ll get a job if I need to.”

  She agreed in silence and sat the bouquet of orchids on Dad’s tombstone, then kissed her outstretched fingers and touched them to his name.

  A waver entered my voice as another question came to mind. “Mom, what were the flowers for?”

  She shrugged but didn’t take her eyes from his engraving. “Just my way of saying I’m sorry. They were his favorite. He said they reminded him of graceful men bowing to their dates.” She chuckled, turned, and strode past but stopped to ask, “Do you need a ride home? It’s getting cold.”

  The reminder sent a fleet of shivers through me. “Yeah, just give me a minute.”

  “Sure, I’ll wait in the car.”

  Nothing more was said, but it felt like the world had spun on its axis. We hadn’t talked like that in years. Although it was short, it was as though everything had changed. Nervous energy coursed through me as I approached my father’s resting place. It was a relief to know who else had visited him, but somehow it no longer seemed like the same place.

  “Dad, I’m sure you know what happened. We’re doing our best to make it through. I’ll take care of the family, but could you look in on Glory? I’m sure she’s with her mother, but she could use a father like you.”

  Memories of her golden-haired innocence flooded over me, the way she forgave everything without question, even the insolent way I’d treated her for years. More tears welled up unbidden. It wasn’t her time. It should have been me. The words echoed from my guilty heart, but long dead voices answered them. It’s not your time. There is much to do. Corporal Jack’s words followed, Ol’ Scratch ain’t ready for ya yet, boyo. While I still didn’t understand, I knew they were right.

  “Dad,” I whispered after swallowing the lump in my throat, “I don’t know what I’m here for. I miss you more than I can say, but I don’t know when I’ll get to see you again. I’ve got some things to do, some people to take care of. I’m sure you understand. I love you, though, and always will.”

  It may have been my imagination, but I thought I heard a murmured reply: I love you, too. I smiled and caressed the engraved stone before retreating to the car.

  Chapter 29

  Thursday

  October 13, 1995

  The alarm exploded at six the next morning. I crawled out of bed with somewhat more energy than the day before. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in the bottom bunk and might never be able to. I’d never been a morning riser, so descended the wooden railing in a stupor. After a shower, the day brightened and seemed a little more bearable.

  Honestly, I wouldn’t have been going to school, except Paige had called the previous night. She said there was something weird going on there and asked if I was okay. I wanted to tell her everything that had happened, but couldn’t do it over the phone. It had been hard enough admitting it to Blake. It had to be in person.

  Abby and Vivian were still asleep. I left mother to rest, but rapped on Abby’s door with a knuckle.

  “What?” she moaned.

  “Abby, mind if I come in?”

  She grunted. I took it for assent and entered. She was wrapped in her blankets like a disordered mummy, but her face was visible through a gap in the folds.

  Taking a seat next to her, I caressed her shoulder. “Hey.”

  “What?” she whined again.

  “You coming to school today?”

  “No… never,” she mumbled into the comforter.

  “You have to at some point, you know. These things won’t go away. We just have to deal with them.”

  She brushed my hand away.

  “I’ll fix breakfast. Want some pancakes?”

  “No,” she fumed and shoved me off the bed.

  “Okay, look,” I retorted, catching myself and rising to my feet. “I’ll let you sleep today, but tonight, you’re getting out of that bed.”

  She ignored my stern order and wriggled deeper into her cocoon. I closed the door, considered waking Vivian, but decided against it. I’d bought her enough time with Blake, and she needed it.

  I wasn’t hungry, but the mention of breakfast made it seem like a necessity. I snatched a stale
bagel from the bag on the counter, split it, and shoved it in the toaster. After it leapt up, I juggled the hot slices out the door and down the steps. It was odd. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten, but food was inconsequential when compared to everything that had happened. I nibbled at the crispy bagel on the way to school, but don’t remember the walk. What I do remember is keeping the tears at bay. The last thing I was going to do was show up like a sobbing baby. The bruises had returned, and the mark from the belt strap was still apparent. That would be more than enough to deal with.

  When I approached the clock at the front of the school, it advertised an unbelievable time. For once I was fifteen minutes early. A familiar face sat waiting at the base of the monument to time. She stood up when I drew near, the shock of seeing me plastered across her face.

  “Hey,” I said with nonchalance.

  Her jaw hung open, speechless. Other arriving students scrutinized me as if I were on display.

  “Look, Paige, it isn’t like this is the first time you’ve seen me this way. Could you stop it? People are gawking.”

  “Yeah,” she whispered in a breath. “We’ve got to do something about him, though,” she added, her voice growing in strength.

  “Enough’s been done already. There’s nothing left for me to do.”

  “What do you mean, there’s nothing left to do?” she asked forcefully. “How can you stand by and let this happen?”

  I grabbed her arm and pulled her into the empty band room. It was set apart from the rest of the building. “Look,” I hissed, “everything hit the fan the other day. There’s nothing left for me to do because the drunk’s locked up.”

  Paige exhaled the breath she’d taken in preparation for a tirade. “Is he going to stay there? Is that what you meant by, ‘enough’s been done’?”

  I shuddered as the truth of what happened descended on my shoulders. Looking her in the eye, I answered, “No, that’s not what I meant by enough. He’s probably gone for good, but so is Gloria.”