DESTRUCTION ROAD
Copyright 2016 Dan Absalonson
Chapter 1
Will thought he had shot them all. Through his scope, he scanned a horizon of crumbled buildings. All seemed quiet. Then, from behind the remains of a house, he found another soldier wandering through the rubble. He steadied his aim, then fired.
"Yeah, headshot!" Will said through pursed lips, holding a cigarette which bobbed between them. It was always like this on the weekend. His dad used his paycheck to bring home a bunch of smokes, then he went to the bar until it closed; or he got kicked out. Will loved it when his dad was gone; it was the only time he stayed home anymore. After Mom died, Dad had started drinking a lot more. There were complications with the pregnancy, and neither baby nor mom made it. Will was supposed to have a little brother, but now all he had was a mean drunk of a dad. Will was getting pretty tired of wearing sleeves to hide the bruises. Over the winter it was no problem; but now summer was approaching. Something had to be done.
The sound of his dad's old Ford truck pulling into the driveway stole away Will's peace.
"What the? Dad should still be at the bar!" Will said.
He got up, put out his cigarette, and ran to his bedroom. He threw on an old pair of jeans and a paint shirt, his customary lawn mowing apparel, and ran to the back door. Before he could reach the doorknob, his dad came in through the front.
"Boy!"
"Oh, hey Dad. I was just about to go out back and start mowing the,"
"I come home, and what do I get? A walk through mangy grass! I gave you one thing to do today! What have you been doing all day, playing them video games?"
His dad took a few sniffs of the clouded air.
"And smokin' my cigarettes again! I think you need to learn a lesson boy!"
"No dad, I was just on my way out."
Will turned the door handle, but it wouldn't twist. Why was the back door always locked, and from the inside? His controlling father had the only key. No one could get in through the back either. The fence stood at eight feet over their dry yellowed lawn. It was built of solid wood; so there was no way to climb it like a chain link fence. The gate on the side of the house was padlocked. Will did have a key to that, but that wasn't going to help him now. He swore under his breath, knowing what was about to happen. How could his dad have gotten so drunk that he was kicked out of his regular bar before noon even hit? His dad closed the front door behind him, and stumbled into the living room.
"What's it gonna take for you to start listening?" he said.
This wasn't fair. His dad never came home before dark on a Saturday. He was going to mow the lawn, but why do it first thing in the morning when you knew your dad would be out till dark? If their living room wasn't so small, he might have been able to get around his dad. Will was sick of cowering and begging to be left alone, and he knew it didn't work, so he thought of something else. His dad had gone too far, invading Will's only time to himself at home. He was sick of finding another place to be during the week. He was sick of hiding the bruises. He was sick of explaining away the ones on his face. So before his dad could cross the room and get a hold of him, Will bent down and lifted the coffee table. Old magazines, crushed beer cans, and unwashed dishes crashed to the floor; followed by the huge overflowing ashtray. A gray cloud rose above the mess as the ashes spilled onto the stain speckled carpet.
"What are you doing boy? You must really want a lesson! You're too weak to take a swing at me with that thing, so what are you planning to do?"
Will didn't have plans to take a swing at his dad with the coffee table, and for now the amusement of it kept his dad at a safe distance. With shaking arms he raised it above his head, turned away from his father, and smashed it down onto the door knob. It broke off and hit the ground with a metallic bounce. Will kicked the door open, leaving the table in the doorway to slow his father. As he sprinted for the back fence his eyes found what would be his way of escape.
Will had screwed an old piece of wood onto the fence a few feet off the ground for an occasion just like this. He sprinted for it, hearing his dad fall over the coffee table behind him. As he came near he leapt up, planted his foot, and pushed off. He grabbed the top of the fence and pulled himself up as the momentum lifted him away from the ground. Even with the push, it took everything he had to get his waist up to the top. He swung one leg over, then the other, until he was hanging from the other side.
He dropped down and fell onto his back, knocking the wind out of him. Once he caught his breath he laughed at his father, kicking the fence and swearing on the other side. He laid there for a while, soaking up his victory. Then he got up, and sat with his back against the fence. As he panted he pulled a crumpled cigarette and a lighter from his pocket, then lit up. His dad started listing off what he would do to him to make him learn his place. The more Will heard, the stronger his resolve became that it was time.
He had been trying, really trying, to stick it out until he finished his senior year. He'd been told that a high school diploma was better than a G.E.D., but this was the last straw. He was going to get out of here, and soon. Not just move out, but skip town and never come back. He wanted to go somewhere where his dad could never find him. He got tired of listening to his old man, and his smoke was out, so he got up and started walking to the nearest gas station.
Will drank the last of his energy drink and put his ear against the front door of his dad’s house. Hearing nothing he cracked the door. His dad was sprawled out on the couch, his buzz-saw snore assuring Will he had a little time. He went into his room and filled a couple duffel bags with clothes, cigarettes and shoes. The zipper snagged on the overstuffed worn out bag.
“Perfect.”
Will looped his arm in the handles and snuck out the front door, his dad still snoring. He made it outside and threw the bag into the bed of the truck. As he reached for the driver’s side door, he heard the creak of the front door. His old man stood slack jawed in the doorway. Will jumped inside and slammed the door; locking it with his left hand while his right turned the key. It turned over just as his father’s fist slammed against the glass. He popped it in reverse, dragging his father’s feet across the gravel before he let go. Then Will took off down the road.
Will was trying to be cool but he felt like he was going to cry, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. His father deserved no tears. At a stoplight he opened the glove box to see if his old man had anything to help take the edge off. A little liquid courage might do the trick. Sure enough there was a silver flask, lying right next to a handgun. He never knew his dad had a gun.
What would he need one for? Will thought.
He picked it up and checked to see if it was loaded. It was. He slid it back, grabbing the flask next to it and closing up the glove box. He drove for a while, and then turned off onto a small side road. He continued to drive until there were no buildings or cars in sight. Pulling over, he unscrewed the cap and took a whiff. A strong whiskey smell floated up into his nostrils. He took a quick sip and forced it down before his taste buds could revolt. He waited for his gut to calm down and then threw back a few more. It wasn't helping, but he didn't think his stomach could take another drop, so he screwed the cap back on and slid it next to the gun inside the glove box. He flipped a u-turn and got back onto the main road.
Just before he merged onto the freeway, a minivan cut him off and forcing him to slam on his brakes. She’s flipping me off?
“That’s it.”
Without thinking, Will opened the glove box, grabbed the gun, and stepped on the gas. He rolled down the passenger side window and accelerated next to the minivan. Before he could even get a clear look at the driver, he unloaded the magazine through their window. The dri
ver fell onto the steering wheel and the van took a sharp turn to the right. It slammed into the guardrail, sending the van into a spiral over and over again across the onramp. Will put it all in his rear view mirror and just kept driving.
It had taken everything inside of him to not retaliate back at his dad all these years. Now the act of leaving all that behind him released something in Will. Someone had to pay for the way his dad had treated him; for what his last few years had become. This person had cut him off, and then flipped him off several times.
“I’ve had enough of people treating me like garbage.”
Chapter 2
The last thing Tom Orchard was expecting on his lunch break was a visit at work from a police officer.
“Tom Orchard?”
“Yes Officer?”
“I’m Officer Clark. I need to speak to you. Is there some place we can go?”
“Sure, we can go into this meeting room.”
Tom got up and headed for the room across the way from his cubicle.
“What’s this about?”
Officer Clark waited until they were in the meeting room with the door closed to speak.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news for you Tom.”
“What is it?”
Officer Clark could hear the terror in Tom’s voice. He hated this part of the job but someone had to do it.
“I’m terribly sorry to tell you that your wife and child have been killed.”
“What? What happened?”
“My wife was pregnant. What about the baby?”
“I’m sorry. The baby did not survive either.”
Tom wanted to ask more but could no longer find the words. He slumped, then fell back against the wall and sank to the floor. In a weak voice he asked, “What happened?”
“Your wife was assaulted by gunfire while driving. The shooting resulted in her losing control of the vehicle, and it tumbling end over end along the freeway on-ramp resulting in their death. I am so sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?”
Tom shook his head and continued to sob into his folded arms, rocking back and forth.
“You’re sure there’s nothing I can…”
“You can go. Thanks for coming to tell me in person.”
“Yes sir.”
Officer Clark took out his card and placed it on the floor next to Tom.
“Please take my card. Call me if you need anything. We’ll be in touch. I’ll need you to come identify the bodies.”
Tom nodded but said nothing. Officer Clark squeezed Tom’s shoulder and then left him to grieve. Tom spent another few minutes trying to stop crying but it was no use, so he decided he didn’t care who saw him. It was all he could do to hold it together until the call was over and he could get outside. Why had he forgotten his cell phone at home again? It was torturous not being able to get up and walk away from the ear shot of his co-workers before absolutely losing it. As soon as he passed through the doorway into the brisk blue afternoon air, tears began to flow and indefinable sounds tumbled out of his mouth in quick bursts.
How could this be true? Things like this don't happen!
All of his lunch soon found its way onto the rough gray pavement, and he lurched down as it flew out in wet hot chunks. He made sure it had all come out, and then walked off the sidewalk into the bushes to sit with his back against the building's chilled exterior wall. He just needed a minute to take control of himself before he made some calls.
You need to be the one to let them know.
After he was able to stop crying out loud, he wiped his eyes and walked to his car. He couldn't feel anything. Everything was just numb.
He needed to get to a phone where he could break the news to his parents and in-laws, without everyone else listening in. He drove with a wild anxiety, blowing through red lights and turning corners at speeds that made his tires squeal. A part of him wanted to join his family. Maybe he could get in an accident too; then he wouldn't have to go through this life without them. It sounded like a better option. He made it home marking each place he could turn that would end it, but he relented just as the pain increased.
Everything in the house shouted to him that it was all a lie. His family wasn't dead. All their stuff was here, everything looked just as it should. He couldn't stand to stay there. He found his cell phone and took off. As he drove toward his parents’ house, he gave them a call to let them know he was coming. Ten minutes later he was knocking on their door.
His mom answered and said, "Tom, what's wrong honey?"
Her face fell. She walked right up to him and embraced him in a hug. His father came in from the family room.
“What’s going on? Tom what’s the matter?”
Tom tried to stop the tears, but they came anew.
"Mom, dad, they're dead."
"Who's dead?" his father asked.
Tom let go of his mom and then fell forward. His dad caught him and held him up.
"They're all dead."
As Tom shuddered the familiar smell of his father’s cologne reminded him of home. Even as a grown man Tom needed his parents. He just needed to be held. His parents were speechless. Soon they were all hugging with tomato red eyes and wet cheeks. No one talked for a while. They just stood there crying into each other’s shoulders. His dad was the first to speak.
"Have you told her folks yet Son?"
"No. I haven't had it in me to call them yet, but I need to."
"Would you like me to do it?"
"No, I should be the one, but thanks Dad."
"Sure. Why don't you go into the family room while your mother and I fix something to eat? We'll give you some privacy."
"Okay, thanks Dad."
His dad slapped him on the back and said, “Anything you need.”
His parents walked to the other side of the house toward the kitchen, holding hands. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen them holding hands. He collapsed on the couch and rang his in-laws on his cell, gripping his forehead terrified of what he’d have to say. Mrs. Kennison answered the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hi Barbara."
"What's the matter dear, are you alright?"
"No. Kathy, Ronnie and the baby were in an accident."
"Oh my gosh, are they okay? Tell me they're alright!"
"You don't know how much I wish I could. I'm sorry Barbara, but they didn't make it."
Her voice broke into uncontrolled screams of sorrow. He waited with the phone pulled back from his ear until she shifted into rapid breaths and sniffs.
"Is Fred still at the office?" He asked.
"Mmm hmm."
"Would you like me to call him for you, and let him know?"
"Yes."
"Okay, I will as soon as we hang up."
"Okay."
"Goodbye Barbara."
"Goodbye."
He hung up and called his father in-law.
"Hi Tom, what can I do for you?"
"Hi Fred."
"Tom, what's wrong, has something happened?"
"It's Kathy, and our baby, and Ronnie. They were in an accident today; and Fred, they all died."
"Oh no, oh no, oh no!"
Fred cried, and it was the first time Tom had ever heard it. Fred recovered quickly and asked, "Have you told Barbara yet?"
"I just got off the phone with her; I told her I would call you, but there's more."
“What is it Tom?”
“Apparently it wasn't just a car accident. Someone shot Kathy while she was driving. She lost control of the wheel, and they didn't make it.”
“I'm so sorry Tom. I can't believe this has happened. Let me pray for you right now, would that be alright?”
“Sure,” Tom said. How can he have the ability to pray right now? Fred was even stronger than Tom had imagined.
“Lord we need your strength right now. We can't get through this without you. I pray that you would be with Tom right now. Give him strength. We know that everything happens
for a reason, and that the days of our lives are numbered, but we don't always understand your sovereign ways. Please protect us from the temptation of anger towards you. Every day is a gift, and we thank you for all of the days we had with them. We thank you that they are with you now. Please be with us in this desperate time of need Lord God.”
“Amen,” Tom said through tear soaked lips. “Thank you Fred.”
“You're welcome. I'm so sorry. I'm going to go home now and make sure Barbara is alright. You hang in there Tom. we're going to get through this. Thank you for calling me, I'll talk to you soon."
"Alright."
Tom hung up and cried for a few minutes, and then got himself together and went to join his parents. His mom had made a simple dinner of sandwiches, and had three plates laid out for them on the counter.
"I'm sorry mom, I just can't eat right now," Tom said.
"That's alright dear. I'll put it in a baggy for you so you'll have it when you are hungry."
"No that's okay mom, I..."
"Let her work son," said Tom's dad. “It's helping her deal with this right now."
Tom nodded and said, "Thanks mom. That would be great. Dad, would you come with me? I have to go identify their bodies."
"Sure thing son."
"Thanks. Can you drive?"
"You got it. Could you pack my sandwich as well sweetie?"
She nodded. Soon they stood with brown paper bags in hand. Before they left they gave Tom's mom lingering hugs and then headed out the door to the car.
In a way it was the longest drive of Tom's life—even longer than the drives over the weekends to visit his wife back when they had been engaged. They lived five hours away from each other, but he would make the trek every time his Friday workday was over. People used to remark on how hard that must have been to make such a long drive; but he would tell them, "Actually it's the waiting in town to finish my work week so I can get in the car and go see her that's the hard part."
He had loved her so much. He still did.
Chapter 3
Will drove until the sun disappeared far down the road into the mountains, and then took an exit into a town whose population barely made up four digits. After driving through the downtown area, which lasted only a minute, he took a side road and ended up pulling over into a wheat field. He drove in far enough so that no one would be able to see him from the road.
Destruction Road Page 1