by TM Toombs
“Did anyone check on the driver?” Billy shouted towards the bystanders who had gathered off to the side to watch. Their hushed murmurs were muffled by the increasingly heavy snowfall.
Eshan blocked out all the surrounding commotion and continued to sooth Anna. “See, Anna? Help is on the way.”
“Promise me something,” she seemed to struggle to form the words.
“Anything. You name it.” He bent closer so he could hear her.
“In our next life together, promise me we WILL grow old together.”
He squeezed her hand lovingly, “I promise. In this life and the next one and the one after that until you get tired of having me around.”
Her laugh turned to a violent cough. A thin trickle of blood gathered at the corner of her mouth. Eshan swallowed his panic as he gently wiped away the blood.
“Hold on, help is almost here.” He forced a smile. “Now you can cross riding in an ambulance off your bucket list.”
“Eshan,” she said after the coughing subsided, “you have to promise me something else. You have to make your dream come true. Even if I’m not here to encourage you. You get that hunting guide business going. I’m so proud of everything you’ve done so far. I want you to finally get something you’ve only ever dreamed about. Don’t give up now.”
“I will, sweetheart,” he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “And you’ll be right there, next to me every step of the way. This time next year, we’ll be honeymooning in Hawaii and talking about how we can expand the business.”
“That would be nice,” she sighed. Her eyes fluttered slowly.
The muffled sound of a distance siren pulled his attention away from Anna for a heartbeat. He glanced up, saw hazy flashes of red lights through the thickening snow. He willed the ambulance to drive faster. He looked back down at Anna. She looked like she was sleeping. All the anguish had drained from her face, replaced by a soft mask of peace. Eshan’s heart stopped then began to pound painfully against his chest.
“No, baby, no!” He whimpered hoarsely. He shook her shoulder, begging for her to answer him. His mind went numb as he took a step back and fell to his knees. Fear of a future without her chilled him to his core. His body shook uncontrollably as he looked up into her lifeless eyes.
Blinding anger devoured his anguish as he frantically searched for something or someone to take his pain out on.
“The driver,” his mind screamed. Eshan staggered to his feet and in a berserk rage, flew to the driver’s side of the pickup truck. Shoving a good Samaritan out of the way, he grabbed the driver by the front of his jacket and yanked him out of his seat. Shock blossomed across his pudgy face in blotchy patches of pink and white, framed in a halo of wild, jet black hair. Eshan shoved him to the ground, clenching and unclenching his fists. The driver landed in a heap on the ground, banging his head against the pavement. His expensive fur coat becoming matted with mud. One of his tiny loafers was missing. He raised a chubby hand up to protect himself as he began to grovel. Eshan glared at him. The pounding in his head drowned out all other noise. Eshan focused on the man’s eyes. They were wide with fear. And so green. They reminded him of the Kenai River. Anna loved to fish that river in May.
“I’m sorry!” he whimpered, “I didn’t see her. I was on my phone for just a second. It was an accident! I didn’t mean to hurt anyone! Please!”
Eshan didn’t hear the pathetic pleas from the cowering man as he towered over him. Blind rage screamed for Eshan to make him pay for extinguishing his one ray of light. Eshan ground his teeth together, causing the muscles along his jawline to twitch as his fury engulfed him. He clenched his fists as he fell to his knees next to the man and began to pound on the pitiful being now curled into a ball and sobbing.
Eshan’s victim made a pitiful attempt to block the blows with his arms, further infuriating him. Eshan stood and hoisted the man to his feet, then threw him into the front fender of the truck, mere inches from Anna’s motionless body. The man fell to his knees before Anna. Eshan grabbed a handful of the man’s long hair and slammed his face into the truck’s fender while screaming, “Look at her! You killed her!”
Eshan slammed the man’s head into the fender repeatedly until he was grabbed from behind and thrown face-first onto the ground. He felt a heavy weight between his shoulder blades as he tried to get up. A gloved hand pushed his face into the wet asphalt of the parking lot. “Don’t move!” An unseen voice ordered. “I’m arresting you for assault. You have the right to remain silent.”
Eshan slowly recovered from his fit of rage as the police officer cuffed him and lifted him to his feet. He couldn’t take his eyes off Anna as he was led away to a police car and stuffed into the backseat.
“Officer,” he pleaded to the officer as he started to close the door, “I can’t leave her.”
“Look,” the officer rubbed his shoulder above the APD patch on his jacket, “I can’t let you out of the car, but if you behave yourself, we can sit here until they extract your wife.”
“She’s wasn’t my wife, yet,” Eshan said quietly.
“I’m sorry, sir. I really am. And I can understand your anger. But I have to arrest you. Do you understand that?”
Eshan nodded his head while still maintaining a watchful eye on the paramedics and firefighters working on Anna’s body. It was several excruciating minutes before they could remove the truck and place her body on the gurney. One of the paramedics gently laid a blanket over her body and belted her in. She was then wheeled to the waiting ambulance and placed inside. As they closed the doors and the ambulance drove off, the officer looked down at Eshan, “You good?”
Eshan nodded, again, slowly. The officer closed the passenger door, walked around the patrol car, opened his driver’s side door and lowered himself behind the wheel. The ride to the police station was a blur to Eshan as his mind replayed the evening’s events over and over.
If only he hadn’t dropped his keys. If only he hadn’t told Anna he’d meet her at the car. If only. He was overcome with misplaced guilt but angrily choked back the burning tears. As he rocked back and forth in his seat, he felt sick to his stomach and in his very soul. He felt so desperately alone. He wanted to die.
An hour later, Eshan found himself sitting in a drab cell, on a metal bench bolted to the floor, waiting to appear before a judge. He’d been questioned by the on-duty detective then photographed, fingerprinted and relieved of all his possessions other than the clothes he was wearing. Hours drifted by and still Eshan sat, motionless, elbows on his knees, his hands knitted together and his head bent over as if he were praying. Silence his only companion.
He heard footsteps echoing down the hallway then come to a stop in front of the bars of his cell. “Do you want your phone call now?”
“No thank you,” Eshan said quietly without opening his eyes or looking up.
“The judge should be here around 8 am. Are you hungry? We have peanut butter and jelly or bologna and cheese sandwiches.”
“No thank you.”
“You might want to try to get some sleep then. Holler if you need anything.” The guard turned and returned the way he’d come.
Eshan laid down on the cold, hard bench and stared up at the beige ceiling. He felt like he was drifting in an endless ocean without hope of rescue. Exhaustion began to settle in as the glaring overhead lights shut off with a slowly fading buzz. He closed his eyes and tried to keep himself from remembering how Anna had looked pinned against the side of his car. Or the frightened man that he had tried to kill.
“Please, God, don’t let this be real. Let me wake up from this nightmare,” he prayed as he slowly slipped into the darkness.
Chapter 2
The painful throbbing coming from his hip and shoulder dragged Eshan from his restless sleep. He gingerly sat up, rubbing his left shoulder with his right hand, his eyes taking in the bleak and barren cell imprisoning him on the lone metal cot. He stood up, his hip stiff and protesting. His knees pop
ped and crackled as he walked to the bars of his dark cell. His only light emanated from the bright red and white “exit” sign across the hall from his cell door. The arrow pointed to his right. The same direction the guard had brought him from.
He grabbed the bars with both of his hands, the cold smooth metal confirming this was no nightmare to wake from—but a nightmare nonetheless. And Anna... he felt a sharp ache in his chest, swallowed back the bile that threatened him.
Only one thing mattered now.
"Guard!" He waited, listening. Nothing. He pulled in a lung full of air and shouted louder. This time he heard footsteps and keys jangling.
“Is there a problem?” asked the same guard from earlier, as he came to a halt just out of arm’s reach from Eshan.
“I want that phone call now.”
“Hit the lights on the holding cells,” the guard spoke into the mic clipped on his left shoulder. The lights buzzed and blinked on.
“Turn, step to the center of the cell and raise your hands above your head,” he ordered. Eshan did as he was told, his right knee popping with each movement.
How did I get so old, so fast? Promise we'll grow old together, the words snatched his mind and he bit his lip to hold back a sob at the memory.
He heard the guard working the lock on the door then the sounds of handcuffs. The cold metal clamped around his right wrist. A strong hand gripped his right wrist and pulled it down to the small of his back. His left wrist was pulled down to his back and cuffed. The guard grabbed him by the left arm, turned him towards the door and escorted him gently but firmly out of the cell and down the hall to another barred door.
As they approached, a small buzzer sounded and the locked clicked open. The guard pulled the door open. They passed through and the guard pulled it closed behind them. Eshan looked around the dimly lit room filled with unmanned desks and empty chairs.
“What time is it?” he asked as he was led towards the lighted hall across from them.
“Almost one a.m.”
Halfway down the hall, they stopped at a heavy metal door with a small window placed at eye level. The guard unlocked the door and opened it, pointing for Eshan to enter. The guard followed him into the room, closed the door and uncuffed him.
“You have 15 minutes. The count starts when the other party picks up and disconnects automatically at the 15-minute mark.” He indicated the clunky, black telephone sitting on a small, metal table. A single, metal chair was the only other object in the cold, gray, cinder block room.
Eshan nodded and sat down as the guard left him alone. The door closed with a hollow click. Eshan stared at it for a moment, composing his thoughts before his hand crept for the phone. The black plastic receiver was cool and unfamiliar in his hand. He took a long breath and began punching in the number to his parents' house. With the last number, it began to dial, followed by a short pause, then finally, a ring. Two rings. As the third ring was ending, his mom’s sleepy voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Mom?” He cleared his throat.
“Eshan? Is that you, honey?” she sounded worried and suddenly wide awake.
“Yeah. I need…something bad happened." The words had tumbled out as they had years ago as a teenager. He’d crashed his dad’s classic Dodge Charger on an icy road, the car skidding wildly, careening into a telephone pole on the passenger side. His best friend had been crushed in the crumpled metal passenger door and died two days later from his injuries. No one blamed Eshan but two years of therapy later he still blamed himself. This felt a thousand times worse. "I need you to do something for me.”
He put his left elbow on the table and buried his forehead in the palm of his left hand. Holding the receiver in his right hand, he heard his mom mumbling to someone in the background. He could picture her confused look and his dad’s stern silence.
“There was an accident,” he forced himself to speak. “Anna is dead, Mom.”
He heard her gasp and the sound of the phone on the other end hitting their wood floor. A scraping sound and then his father came on the phone.
“Eshan,” his dad sounded so much older than a month ago when he'd shared his plans with them after they'd met Anna. The dinner with them had started strained because they hadn't spoken in so many years. But Anna's easy smile and soft voice had soothed them all and by dinner's end, everyone had relaxed. Later, when he'd told them his plans, they'd been overjoyed. “Son, what happened?”
A tsunami of tears threatened to wash over him.
“We were at Koots. I asked Anna to marry me. We were leaving to go home and a distracted driver plowed into her and pinned her against my car.” Eshan gulped for air. The raw emotions burned his throat.
“I’m so sorry, son,” his father said slower than usual. “Where are you? I’ll come get you.”
“I’m in jail, Dad.” Eshan pounded his left fist on the desk. “I tried to kill him with my bare hands. I couldn’t stop myself.”
“It’ll be ok, Eshan. I’m coming to get you. Are you at the Fourth Avenue Jail?”
“No, Dad, don't come here. What I need you and Mom to do is take care of Anna for me. She’s all alone. It’s not right for her not to have family with her right now.”
“Sure, son, but first—"
"No, Dad. Please just take care of Anna for me. Promise me you'll find out where they took her and ...."
Eshan heard his father's wheezing breath as neither spoke for a moment.
"We’ll see to Anna first, son. I promise. And then we’ll come get you. Here’s your mother.”
Eshan heard the phone being covered, muffled voices and then his mother was back.
“Oh, my baby boy,” she sounded like she’d been crying. “We’re gonna take care of Anna and you. Dad is gonna come get you and bring you home, OK?”
“Just take care of Anna,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and leaned forward to rest his head on the table top.
“We love you.”
“I love you, too.” The phone clicked off.
Eshan slowly sat up and replaced the handset on the cradle. A moment later, the door opened and the guard filled the doorway. Eshan stood up and allowed the guard to cuff him and take him back to the dreary holding cell.
* * * *
“Wallace,” the guard grunted, different from the one last night. “The judge is here and ready for you.” Eshan slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Come on, we don’t have all day.”
Eshan stood and stiffly shuffled to the cell door.
“Place your hands through the slot.” He did as he was told and watched as the cold, metal cuffs were quickly fastened around his wrists.
“Step back.” Eshan stepped back and waited for the door to unlock. It swung open with a creak. “Step out into the hall.”
He was led left, down the hallway towards a heavy metal door, marked “COURT” below the security glass. Below that, another sign specified directions on how to behave once entering the other side.
“No talking. No weapons. No violent acts. No threats.”
The door opened and he was admitted into a waiting area with several other scruffy-looking men and three guards. The clock on the wall showed 8:42 am.
Almost 12 hours. Twelve hours since…he couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought of what he'd lost.
The guard pointed to a dirty, plastic orange chair that reminded Eshan of high school. He lowered himself onto the uncomfortable seat and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in the palms of his hands. His body ached almost as badly as his heart. Time passed slowly as he waited. Finally, a bailiff appeared through another door and called for one of the other men awaiting their bail hearing. Two long hours passed until Eshan was the only one left in the waiting room besides the guard who had escorted him.
“Wallace, Eshan,” the bailiff barked and then disappeared back through the doorway that led to Eshan’s uncertain future. He moved towards the door, beads of sweat sprou
ted at his temples and forehead, the guard directly behind him. He reached around Eshan and pushed the door open. “This is as far as I go. Good luck.” With that, Eshan stepped through and turned to watch the door close with a quiet click.
Turning back around, he took in the small courtroom. It was nothing special. Two tables were set before the raised judge’s bench. A small railing behind the tables divided the tables from three rows of folding chairs. Behind the rows of chairs were a set of double doors guarded by a bored-looking guard.
The bailiff who had called him was staring at him from the table in front of the bench. He pointed at one of the two chairs with one hand while tapping his right foot. In his other hand, he held a slim folder. Eshan crossed the small room. The bailiff set the binder on the table, pulled a handcuff key from his pocket and quickly removed them. Eshan rubbed his wrists as he lowered himself down into the chair then scooted forward until his chest touched the edge of the table. Without the pressure of the table against his chest, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sit still.
“Your counselor will be here in a few minutes. Do you want a bottle of water while we wait?” he asked, looking down at Eshan.
“Yes, please.” The bailiff picked up the binder, nodded and walked to the back of the room, disappearing through the double doors and returning a minute later with a bottle of water and a small, white paper plate with a flaky pastry in the center. Eshan couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten and his stomach growled urgently.
“I figured you hadn’t eaten in a while. Scarf it down before we start, 'k?” The bailiff said as he left to stand next to the door behind the bench.
“Thank you.” The cheese Danish looked like fillet mignon to Eshan. The last thing his mind wanted was for him to live even one more moment. Yet his body, running on basic survival instincts, demanded food. Eshan reached for the Danish and took a huge bite. It was every bit as tasty as it looked. He finished it in two more bites and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. You shouldn’t have eaten it. You should just starve yourself to death and end this misery.