Redemption Road (3) (1074 hits)
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Rating: 2 on 16 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Jack McCallum (View user info) at 2005-12-30 15:01:12 EST
Redemption Road
Redemption Road (1) http://www.ubersite.com/m/79291
Redemption Road (2) http://www.ubersite.com/m/81591
3- Whippet and Lockhart
Whippet stuck his arm out the car window as he took a sharp turn at 50mph, gave the troopers behind him the finger, and stomped the gas pedal as the road straightened before him. The wheels of his old Plymouth screamed as he laid down rubber, the squeal echoed by the wailing sirens behind him.
He watched the rear-view mirror, counting the Tennessee State Police patrol cars as they roared around the curve in pursuit.
"Three?" Whippet was furious. "I only rate three of you sons of bitches? Jesus!"
Whippet was wearing a battered old cavalry hat. A faded stars and bars patch was sewn onto the brim. The old hat and a pair of boots was all he was wearing.
"I still got a damn hard-on," he muttered, as he pulled onto highway 61, heading north out of Clinton.
He'd been ass-fucking the Mother Mary and Sweet Baby Jesus out of some tall, rail-thin trash he'd hooked up with at a show at the end of the night, slamming away in his boots and nothing else and listening to the music of the big rigs moving along the I-75, when her daddy had kicked down the door of the Comfort Inn rat-hole Whippet was staying in and started screaming about his baby girl.
The old man had pulled a shiny six-gun out of his waistband. The gun looked like more of showpiece that a serious shooter but at this distance the old bastard couldn't miss, so Whippet had thrown himself through the window-screen bare-assed and had run like hell for his '73 Duster 440, thanking the Lord God for letting him get drunk enough to leave the keys in the ignition.
He'd grabbed his hat from the back seat as he pulled onto the road, pulling right by a trooper who had pulled someone over and was in the process of writing a ticket when Whippet blasted by him.
He'd hollered 'shitfire!' and within minutes had three patrol cars on his tail.
There was a bridge up ahead that crossed the Clinch River, and after that it was smooth sailing to the Interstate 75.
He could get out of this yet.
Whippet was still thinking he could get away even as he approached another State Police car on the side of the road and realized that the trooper was laying down a spike strip.
The Duster's front and rear tires on the right side blew out and the Plymouth careened onto the bridge, skidding and fishtailing.
He hit something, Whippet would never know exactly what, and then the car rolled and Whippet was launched like a booger from a farmer's nose, through the windshield and into the air and over the side of the bridge.
The world turned over and went dark and Whippet's last thought was that he hoped he didn't lose his hat.
*
Julianne was Julianne Barrowman, a registered nurse who had been walking through a light rainfall after a double shift at Mercy Health Center on Memorial Drive in Oklahoma City, when she heard car tires screeching behind her and then woke up here, beside the desert road.
Roberta Esterhaus had been on a trip to the Mall of America in Minnesota, just starting a day of fun with her mom and dad. The last thing Robbie remembered was somebody bumping her and making her fall down a long escalator. Then she was here, and she had called for her mom and dad until Julianne had come walking down the road and found her.
Julianne had been right when she had warned them that David Garvin would be reminding all of them who he was, very soon.
They had been on the road for hours, maybe as long as half a day since their last stop, and were trying to get acquainted and enjoy some friendly banter to fend off the bleak horror that came with wondering where they were, when Garvin started demanding answers.
Addison had told Garvin he didn't know where they were. Garvin had started yelling at Tim. Tim had bent over the wheel as if trying to duck tossed stones. When Addison had had enough, he told Garvin to be quiet.
He had leaned close to the man and whispered, "Why don't you shut the fuck up and muster up some tact. You're scaring the little girl."
Garvin's face had started to shake. Not his mouth, but his entire face. He hadn't missed many meals, and his pink jowls shook madly. His lips twitched, and he began to blink rapidly. He looked as if he were having an old-fashioned B movie fit. It looked like bad acting. It was monumental rage, fueled by fear.
"Do you know who I am?" Garvin had breathed, his whisper escalating into a breaking scream. "Do you know who the FUCK I AM? I AM DAVID GARVIN, OF BRAND, ELLINGS AND SCHILINOVSKY, ONE OF THE MOST POWERFUL LAW FIRMS IN CHICAGO! AND I WILL NOT BE DECIEVED ANY LONGER!"
Robbie started to cry. She jumped out of her seat and stood beside Tim, one hand holding onto his shirt.
Tim pulled the bus to the side of the road. He switched off the ignition and then whispered to Robbie. She whispered back. They talked for a moment.
Garvin was still fuming. "This is completely unacceptable, utterly unmitigated bullshit. I want to know what the fuck is happening AND I WANT TO KNOW RIGHT FUCKING NOW!"
Tim lifted a lock of hair out of the little girl's eyes. "Why don't you go outside for a minute, kiddo?"
He opened the door and Robbie hopped down the steps onto the shoulder.
Garvin stood up and glared at Tim. "CLOSE THAT DAMNED DOOR AND KEEP DRIVING!"
Tim turned and looked Garvin in the eye. "She has to pee, you dick. And she's scared. She's only ten years old."
"You WILL NOT talk to me in that way," Garvin hissed, raising a fist and shaking it."
Tim pulled the keys out of the ignition and tucked them into one pocket of his dark, crusty jeans.
"You want to go now," Tim said, a quaver in his voice, "You'll have to take these keys away from me."
Garvin took a step forward. Addison, fighting down a grin and feeling proud of the boy, stood up and blocked the lawyer's path.
"Cool it," Addison said.
"Don't tell ME to COOL IT," Garvin snapped. "I'm not going to take THAT from some gray-haired WASHED-UP HACK PAPERBACK WRITER!"
Julianne's eyes widened in recognition.
"Jonah Addison?"
Addison glanced at her and nodded. "Don't tell me. Night-shift reading?"
Julianne shrugged and nodded, and then turned to Tim. "Should I be out there with her?"
"She said she wanted to be alone," Tim replied.
While Garvin and Addison stared each other down, Tim watched Robbie walk a few yards to the privacy of some withered bushes. She hunched down out of sight, and appeared a minute later. The little girl started walking back to the bus, picking up a few pebbles and throwing them away.
"Jesus Christ," Garvin sputtered. "This is all just a... a—"
"A what?" Addison asked.
Garvin's face shook again, and he bit his lower lip.
Robbie screamed. Tim leaped down the stairs and grabbed her as she ran to him.
"Looks like she has a new big brother," Julianne said.
Tim stepped back into the bus and led Robbie to her seat.
"She says there's someone out there," Tim said. "Lying out there, away from the road. She said he's naked."
"I saw his wiener," Robbie said, crossing her arms and frowning. "It was gross."
Garvin immediately sat down.
"I'll go," Addison said.
Julianne followed him. They stepped off the bus and started to walk. Ten yards from the road there was a slight dip in the earth. Lying in the shallow hollow was a man, naked save for an old pair of cowboy boots.
"Whoa," Addison said.
"Honestly, Julianne replied with a weary shake of her head. "A penis is a penis."
"Garters and anacondas are just snakes, too," Addison said.
She spotted a battered cowboy hat and covered the man's genitals. Then she kneeled beside him and bent low to see if he was breathing.
The man opened his eyes and exhaled rancid breath. "Well, hell's-bells, darlin. You here to give me a jump-start?"
Addison returned to the bus and asked Tim if there were any extra clothes in the bus. Tim gestured to a cardboard box in the rear.
"Some coveralls, but they're pink," Tim said. "I'd rather wear these clothes I've got than pink stuff."
The coveralls had once been red, but someone had fucked up the last time they were washed. They really were pink, but when he shook then out and held them up he figured they would fit.
He took them outside. Julianne was helping the man to his feet. He was holding the hat over his crotch and smiling at her.
He appeared to be drunk, but otherwise he was fine.
Lucky bastard, Addison thought, handing the man the coveralls.
"Pink," the man said, leering at Julianne. "My favorite color."
"Oh please," Julianne said, heading back to the bus.
When they returned to the bus Tim instantly recognized the man in the pink coveralls. "Hey, you're Cullum Whippet! My mom has all your CDs."
Whippet cleared his throat and spit. His last album was three years old. "I have seen better days than these," he said.
A shout from down the road drew everyone's attention.
"Hey! Hey there! Do you know where I am?"
A young man was trotting down the road to the bus. He was wearing black pants and a white shirt. There was a short apron around his waist. Balaban's was written on the apron.
"Hi," the man said, joining the group.
Waiter, Addison thought, as he introduced himself.
"Tane Lockhart. Los Angeles. I'm an actor."
Everyone got back on the bus. They tried to fill in Whippet and Lockhart on what they knew, which wasn't much.
Garvin didn't join in the conversation, however. He sat and started out the window, white lips pressed together.
Before they pulled onto the road Addison got the water jug and watched Lockhart and Whippet take long drinks from the trickling spigot. He shook the jug when they were done, and heard the same hollow sloshing as before.
"Jesus," Whippet said. "That was rank. I'd tear the tits of a grizzly bear for a glass of cold fresh water right about now."
"Amen," Julianne said.
Tim got the keys out of his pocket and put the bus in gear. Before he pulled onto the road, he caught Addison's eye. Addison went forward and leaned over.
"There's seven of us now," Tim whispered. "Seven."
Addison put a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder and said, "Don't I know it. But there's no way we've covered four hundred miles since that last sign."
Tim gently prodded the gas pedal and then hit the brake.
"For god damned fuck sake," Garvin mumbled through clenched teeth.
"Look," Tim said.
Twenty feet down the road, in plain sight, were seven large glass pitchers. They appeared to be full of ice cubes. They had not been there a moment before.
The doors of the bus opened and everyone stepped onto the road. They walked forward in a line and stopped before the pitchers.
An ice cube popped and rang musically against a curved glass wall.
"These are big," Robbie said. The pitchers had very wide mouths, and they were as high as Roberta's waist.
"God," Julianne said. "I bet they're as heavy as hell."
"Who needs to lift when we can just dive in?" Whippet said, he got down on his knees and dunked his head in the water.
"I wouldn't drink that," Garvin said uncertainly. "It could be a trick."
Tim made a face and sipped a handful of water. "It's good. It's cold."
"Man," Lockhart said with a smile made up of dazzling veneers. "I hate the water, but I'm willing to dunk and drink."
He got down on his knees like Whippet, and lowered his face into the pitcher.
Julianne rocker her pitcher, sipping at the cool water sloshing against the sides.
Addison drank a handful, and laughed when he saw Robbie bend and slurp water through puckered lips as if she were kissing it.
Garvin bit his lower lip, but didn't drink.
Lockhart jerked and grabbed the sides of his pitcher.
Robbie was the first to notice. "Look," she said.
Lockhart's body twisted and his legs shot out from under him. His hands clawed at the sides of the pitcher.
Whippet splashed water in his face and slicked back his hair, glancing at Lockhart. "What the fuck, brother?"
Lockhart's body began to spasm, his legs kicking wildly, his fists pounding at the glass pitcher, his face still underwater.
Addison grabbed the young man's shoulders and pulled back. It was like trying to lift a block of iron. Lockhart's face was still in the pitcher, and the pitcher wasn't leaving the road.
Tim pointed, twice, his face white with shock.
The others could only stare in shock.
The bottom of the pitcher looked as if it had been set into the road while the asphalt was still warm. It was held fast. And where Lockhart's face met the edges of the pitcher's wide mouth, the thick glass seemed to blend seamlessly into the young man's flesh.
Whippet and Addison each grabbed one of Lockhart's arms and pulled. Blood trickled down the man's cheeks were glass met flesh. Julianne found a rock on the side of the road and tried to smash the glass, but the rock just bounced away without leaving a scratch.
All the while, Lockhart's body was convulsing wildly.
Robbie screamed, and Tim went to her, covering her eyes.
The minutes passed slowly as Lockhart thrashed under the hot desert sun.
When the young man finally grew still, he rolled away from the pitcher and slumped onto the road.
His lips were purple, and his eyes were horribly bloodshot.
It took Julianne only a moment to confirm that he was dead. She administered CPR, first rolling him onto his side and watching a great quantity of water flow past his lips.
She alternated between mouth to mouth and chest compressions until Gavin said, "He's fucking dead, Miss Barrowman."
"He drowned," Julianne said. "He just drowned."
"We should move on," Addison said. He and Julianne carried Lockhart to the side of the road, and left him there.
Whippet cupped his hands and took another deep drink, as if to show he wasn't scared of any crazy magical desert bullshit. Before he followed the others onto the bus he tipped over his pitcher with the toe of his boot. It shattered easily, glass shards and ice cubes tinkling merrily.
When Tim closed the bus doors, Addison realized the pitchers were no longer on the road.
Tim put the bus in gear, and they were on their way.
A mile or so down the road they passed another faded green and white sign.
"A trial for one of nine," Tim read aloud. "Thirty miles."
User Reviews
Submitted by shadow (user info) at 2008-05-09 14:32:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
not too shabby.
Submitted by wookie (user info) at 2008-05-09 14:08:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by St_Jimmy (user info) at 2007-11-06 20:04:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I agree with thecaes.
Lockhart pops up only to die five minutes later.
Kind of like the old black guy in the movie version of The Shining, only different.
I hate when that happens.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-03-30 07:07:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Jesus, what's with all the no comments?
I didn't like how Lockhart was handled. You introduced him as a 'oh by the way, there's another guy now' and then killed him straight away. I think you should have killed someone else, or brought him aboard earlier on to give me the chance to get used to him being there.
Heh heh, also, he should have drank his way out of the pitcher. If only those guys had some straws, they could have saved him. :)
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-01-19 14:21:36 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2006-01-18 16:45:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2006-01-17 14:26:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by nrduncan (user info) at 2006-01-03 13:52:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by horse87 (user info) at 2005-12-30 20:27:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2005-12-30 19:57:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by jagmcmanus (user info) at 2005-12-30 19:08:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2005-12-30 18:54:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent writing as always, Mr. MacGregor..er...ah..MacCallum.
Yeah, that's it . MacCallum. . .
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2005-12-30 17:37:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
http://www.ubersite.com/m/81705#1763483
Ok, that was low and tasteless but wasn't it also kinda funny?
Jack baby, would you feel better if I sent you some cookies? Ask anyone, I made a mean oatmeal raisin.
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2005-12-30 16:32:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
you're so money you don't even know it.
i'll forgive the spelling.
Submitted by freebie (user info) at 2005-12-30 15:12:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
as always, I like your stuff
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-12-30 15:01:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No time to spell check. Happy Friday, everyone.