Rescue Fantasies (Part 13) (578 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 2 on 8 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by fried-green-potatoes (View user info) at 2006-01-19 22:04:43 EST
http://www.ubersite.com/m/72067 (Part 1)
http://www.ubersite.com/m/80255 (Part 2)
http://www.ubersite.com/m/80857 (Part 3)
http://www.ubersite.com/m/81155 (Part 4)
http://www.ubersite.com/m/69317 (Part 5)
http://www.ubersite.com/m/81435 (Part 6)
http://www.ubersite.com/m/81735 (Part 7)
http://www.ubersite.com/m/82005 (Part 8)
http://www.ubersite.com/m/82334 (Part 9)
http://www.ubersite.com/m/82357 (Part 10)
http://www.ubersite.com/m/82387 (Part 11)
http://www.ubersite.com/m/82562 (Part 12)
John woke to the sound of a tractor pulling a hay cart into outlying fields. A cool gray dawn had welcomed him to this rolling farmland, nestled in the Hudson Valley north of Poughkeepsie. He had pulled off the highway just a few miles from Debston, where Jan's father lived. The stop was unexpected but inevitable: John had nodded off twice behind the wheel, and the second lapse almost put his car into a bridge abutment. It convinced him to pull off for a few minutes of sleep along a dirt road. By the time he opened his eyes again, the people in this tiny farm town were deep into their morning chores.
The sound of wheels on the long gravel driveway was enough to rouse dogs at a nearby farm. They barked a warning as John pulled up to the three-bedroom rancher owned by Jan's father, and the commotion brought a white-haired woman in a flowered apron to the front porch. John knew this was Beatrice, the sister of Jan's father, a squat and sturdy woman who was taking care of the old man now that lung disease was stealing his life. Outside the house, Jan's red Blazer was not to be found.
John waived to the woman. She stared back in icy silence.
"I'm guessing you must be Beatrice. Jan told me a little..."
"Jan ain't here. Kylie neither," the old woman snapped back. The growl in her voice put the dogs next door to shame.
"Let him come, sis!" an old man called from the corner of the porch. It was a thin, labored voice. It quickly collapsed into a wet, thick cough that rolled and rattled up the trachea, the calling card of pulmonary distress. John looked over to see an old man seated on a porch glider. He couldn't have weighed more than 90 pounds, and he was tethered to an oxygen tank beside the swing.
"Carl Burns?" John asked, easing past hard stares from Beatrice and extending a hand to the old man. As frail as he was, Carl Burns still had the hard, calloused hands that hinted of a lifetime on the factory floor. They were a tradesman's hands and much like his father's, John thought. Men like Carl Burns wore them with pride to their graves.
"Have a seat, young man. Jan said you'd be here soon enough. Didn't figure so soon though," Burns said.
John settled into the glider but the old man took little notice, preferring instead to study the progress of farmers on a hill across the road. They were sharpening blades on a tiller, hoping for a mild, early spring and a chance to turn the earth.
"Warmed up early today," the old man offered.
"Seems so," John replied. A polite comment or two on the weather was pretty much the expected ice-breaker in these parts. "Sir, I was wondering how I could reach Jan."
"You missed her by a day, son. Her and Kylie left yesterday morning."
"Where can I find her?"
"She ain't stupid enough to say where, and I ain't stupid enough to ask," Burns said. "Seems you caused quite a stir down there, young man. Ellington sheriff called just this morning. They'll be commin' soon, and the less I know the better."
"What did you tell them?"
"Same I told you. Jan ain't here and she ain't coming back."
"Did they ask you about Kylie? About Dee?"
"Not yet. Soon enough, I expect," the old man said. "I expect that's why you're here, too."
John nodded and let the man continue. Carl Burns laid out what happened on the day of the shooting. It was told in a flat voice, and the old man paused every few sentences to draw deeply from the clear plastic tube across his upper lip. He had given Kylie his car to take to school that day. He wouldn't need it since he was spending his time at the VA hospital for tests on his failing lungs. The hospital visit was over by early afternoon, and a neighbor gave Burns a ride home. He put on pot of coffee as he waited for Kylie to return from school. That's when the phone rang. It was Beatrice calling from Debston, wanting to know what the hell was going on down there.
"Kylie just drove up in your car, Carl!" the woman said. "She's not making any sense! Who's dead down there?!"
Carl Burns got Kylie on the line. He had to calm her down before he understood what was happening. Kylie hadn't had borrowed the car for school. She had borrowed it to take Dee to the bus depot 20 miles up the highway. Enough was enough in that shit hole called home, Dee told all her friends, and she was going to run off that very day to New York City. Kylie was in the shower, getting ready to drive her friend to the depot, when she heard the shot. She came running out and found the girl dead in Jan's bedroom. Near Dee's hand was the pistol, a .40 caliber Smith & Wesson that Jan had kept in her dresser drawer. It was too much gun for Jan, Carl Burns added, and he made a point of telling off the dealer who had sold it to her. Dee must have found the semi-automatic in the unlocked dresser drawer and started screwing with it while waiting for her ride, the old man figured.
"Kylie lost it right then and there," Carl Burns said. "She come running out of the house half dressed and got in my car. Just started driving-- not knowing where, not caring where, just gettin' out was all that mattered. She was 20 miles from the state line before she got her wits back and called Beatrice for directions."
"She didn't call 9-11?"
"Mister, I was in that bedroom as soon as I got that call from Kylie. I seen what happened. I seen this Dee with half her head off, blood everywhere and the drywall pocked with teeth and bone. Kylie was 16 and she just panicked. Simple as that."
"Ok, so you find Dee... after the call," John continued. "Did you call 9-11? How did they get Dee confused with Kylie and why didn't you fix it when they mixed them up?"
Carl Burns didn't answer the question. He paused for a second, smoothed a crease from his trousers,and offered ones of his own. "What do you know about the bust-up in Jan's marriage? Did she tell you how it happened?"
John told him what little the woman had revealed about Peter, her ex-husband. Jan wanted more out of life than a town like Ellington could give her. She was taking college courses at night and working as a bookkeeper through the day in order to better herself and her family. Peter was comfortable with things as they were, happy to have one of the few factory jobs left in town. And he resented the way Jan abandoned the stay-at-home role once Kylie was in middle school. They broke it off quickly, once Jan waived her right to anything more than minimal child support.
John looked up and saw the wry smile on the old man's face.
"Son... don't you think maybe that's the type of story a woman tells when she don't want a man asking no more questions about how it really happened?"
John's numb expression made the old man chuckle softly and he reached over to give him a pat on the arm.
"Relax, young feller. I know what you want to know... and it ain't the same as what you need to understand."
User Reviews
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2006-01-22 22:57:13 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Damn I hate old people.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2006-01-20 14:06:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
These have been very good, it's unfortunate they don't get more attention.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2006-01-20 14:02:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2006-01-20 10:15:52 (#)
Ranking: 2
Nah.... the old guy's got it wrong, understandable because he doesn't want to think ill of his kin and all, but someone shot that girl in the face...
Right? right? God please let me be right.
That's what I was thinking after the last one.
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2006-01-20 10:30:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
genius
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2006-01-20 10:15:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Nah.... the old guy's got it wrong, understandable because he doesn't want to think ill of his kin and all, but someone shot that girl in the face...
Right? right? God please let me be right.
Submitted by GuinnessSince1759 (user info) at 2006-01-20 02:34:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
idunno why...i didn't read it...but what the hell you put in some effort, so hey here ya go +2. Good Job.
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2006-01-20 01:50:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Tubabuhst_01 (user info) at 2006-01-20 00:22:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Why does this have no reviews? I love these, they tend to be enthralling and all.
Good job!