by Sasha Pruett
Chapter Thirteen
Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.
John 14:27
“Edward, isn’t that Sheriff Marshall’s car down Ashton Drive?”
“It sure is Bonnie. He must on his way to visit that sweet sister of his.”
“But his sister’s in Georgia for the week and his car is just sitting in the middle of the road.”
“Maybe he broke down. He and Susie are the only ones that use that street.”
“Shouldn’t we go back and see if he needs help? It’s awfully strange him leaving his car in the middle of the road like that even broke down. Besides, why would he be going to Susie’s anyway? She’s not even there. Something’s not right Ed, something’s just not right.”
“If he was in trouble dear he would call into the station on that radio of his, but if you’re so determined we’ll go back and look.” After more than five decades of marriage Edward Andrews knew that Bonnie wouldn’t stop until she had seen what was going on so he made a U-turn and headed back towards the sheriff’s car and unknowingly, to the sheriff as well, or what was left.
Susanne Marshall had inherited the family homestead seven years ago when her mother had passed away from a heart attack. The house had been a wedding gift to her grandmother from her newlywed husband in the late eighteen seventies. The beautiful, hand built, two story, Victorian house with wraparound porch was still hidden from view nestled comfortably within the oaks, elms, crape-myrtles, and mimosa trees that made up the woods in that part of town. The only evidence of its existence was the three quarter mile path that led from the highway into the woods, though it was located only a couple miles from the center of town. Last year Frank had called in a few favors and had the gravel drive paved for his sister Susie, then named it Ashton Drive, in honor of its founder; their grandfather.
It was only by chance that Edward and Bonnie Andrews happened upon the abandoned patrol car. They only came to town once a week, on Sunday, after church to purchase the few groceries that were essential. The two elderly love birds lived on the same farm Ed’s family worked just six miles from Susie on the opposite side of town from old man Farley. At one time the farm had provided many of the town folk with work, but as the years wore on and the Andrews’ aged the crop size dwindled down to their own personal garden, one milk cow, and a few hens that provided them with most of their provisions. In her early days Bonnie had churned her own butter, baked her own bread, and even cultured her own cheese, but now a great grandmother of eighty-three years she chose, or rather her arthritic hands chose, to buy these necessities instead.
Ed made the left hand turn onto Ashton Drive and pulled behind the sleeping vehicle. Apprehension filled his heart as the moment came to investigate. There was no sign of the sheriff in the patrol car, and he could see no sign of him outside of it either, of course if Frank had jogged the rest of the way to the homestead to use the phone there wouldn’t be any sign of him would there? Ed lifted the chrome latch of his eighty two LTD and gingerly pushed the door open, then he turn to Bonnie, “Best if you wait here dear.”
“Are you sure? You might need help.”
“If I need any help I’ll call you, no since both of us draggin’ our old bones in and out of the car too much. You just sit tight, I’ll be back soon.” Ed patted his wife’s hand then swung his semi-retired legs out onto the pavement and called out to Officer Marshall. “Frank… you out here Frank? Need some help?”
When no response came from Frank Marshall or anything else for that matter Ed heaved the rest of his small frame from the metal monster.
“Frank…, Officer Marshall…, you out here?” Again he called out to the owner of the lone sedan and again he was met with nothing. Silence hung in the air and his apprehension swelled into an eerie dread. Cautiously Ed began to amble towards the auto, but the stench of death and decay that attacked his nostrils sent him backwards for an instant. The putrid fumes filled his sinuses causing his breakfast to churn and rise in protest. He quickly produced the tan handkerchief from his chocolate suit coat pocket, thrusting it to his face, covering his nose and mouth. Whether it was meant to keep the rankness out or the bile in was up for debate.
Fear and concern filled his core and he began to pray that the source of such demise was only the carcass of a stray dog or deer that had unavoidably lost its life and was now decaying in the summer heat. Bonnie had begun to exit herself, but he waved her back and shook his head. She didn’t need to see the remains of whatever poor animal Frank had undoubtedly hit last night, and with the wind and rain that had doused the town the previous evening it was no wonder he had not been able to avoid the unfortunate creature. Ed desperately tried to convince himself that when he reached the front of the stranded auto he would find what was left of a deer. It had probably put a hoof right through the grill of the vehicle damaging it severely. Any minute now Sheriff Marshall would be strolling back to it, having waited until the storm cleared to remove the remnants and await a tow truck from King’s Auto and the animal control people, but Sheriff Marshall was already there.
Ed closed his eyes and whispered a soft prayer before stepping within view of the carnage. Raising his head he opened his eyes, took in a not so deep breath, than peered down at the sight that would give Edward Andrews his first heart attack… and his last. There beneath him lying at his feet were the leftovers of the bloodless, mutilated corpse of Frank Marshall.
Eyeballs missing, teeth scattered, and unrecognizable bits of flesh littered the asphalt along with a few fingers, clumps of hair, crushed bones, and the tattered blood stained shreds of an officer’s uniform. The flesh was pale white in places, but in others it had taken on the greens, browns, and blacks of rot. The elderly man could not decipher the rotten blackness from the swarm of flies laying their eggs that quickly matured into fat, wiggling, maggots. He had swung around as quickly as his body had allowed him and dared not look back, but it was not quick enough. Suddenly his stomach heaved and its contents rushed to the hot pavement, splattering next to the putrefying remains. Ed gagged and began to choke on his own vomit, his chest tightened, he couldn’t breathe. His head was spinning and he barely noticed his loving wife rushing to his side.
Bonnie had been watching intently as her husband reluctantly stepped to the front of the sedan. She had begun to meet him when he waved her back, so she retreated to the LTD as he had wished, but when she witnessed her husband collapsing into a heap on the hard black road she moved faster than her many years should have allowed. Flinging the door open her feet barely hit the pavement before she was by his side, scooping him into her tiny, but determined arms, and gazing into his terrified eyes. Tears streamed down both of their wrinkled faces as they lay together in desperation. Bonnie noticed nothing beyond her man, not the birds, not the heat, not even the stench. All faded into nothingness as both their lives were altered forever in one single moment. She could feel the life giving away within her soul mate and within her own soul as well.
“Don’t… look…,” were the last words that Edward Andrews muttered, the last words his wife would ever hear from her dear husbands lips before leaving her alone in this world.