C.O.T.V.H. (Book 1): Creation

by Dustin J. Palmer

  Jake started to ask his dad something about when the oven might get fixed when the doorbell interrupted him. John turned and looked out the window over the sink. The last rays of the sun streamed through. Turning back, he motioned with his head to the door. “Would you get that, Jake?”

  “Uh . . . sure,” Jake dropped his fork to his plate then rose to his feet. Once at the front door he turned the four deadbolts and pulled back the two chains. With a grunt, he opened the heavy oak door to find a short, gangly looking man in his mid forties. He had jet-black hair hanging down over his ears and was dressed in a cheap gray sports jacket with a Hawaiian theme tie, a pair of Wrangler jeans, and a scuffed pair of black cowboy boots. In his right hand he held a six-pack of some cheap, off brand beer Jake had never heard of. Three bottles were missing. It was one John's old work buddies, Marty White.

  “Hey, Jack,” Marty said, smiling a mouthful of yellow teeth with an unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. “Is your old man in?”

  “Hey, Mr. White,” Jake said, not even bothering to correct the mispronunciation of his name. “Dad’s in the kitchen.”

  “Cool,” Marty said, stepping past him. A whiff of stale cigarette smoke and cheap beer assaulted Jake's nose.

  “Hey, hey, hey!” Marty yelled out, holding the half-empty six-pack over his head as if he’d just won the World Cup. He set the beer on the table then slapped John hard on the shoulder. “What’s up, Big John?”

  “Hey, Marty,” John said, pushing out one of the black metal chairs with his foot. “How’d the interview go?”

  “Ah shit you know,” Marty dropped into his seat then lit his cigarette with a cheap plastic lighter. “Bunch of commie, liberal bastards. They don’t want a real man! They want some pencil pushing bitch that will follow orders. By God, John, I tell you, this country is headed to hell in a hand basket. No one gives a shit about the working man anymore,” he took a drag from his cigarette then leaned back in his chair. "Don't they realize it was men like you and me that built this country? All we needed was a few rounds of ammunition and some good ole rock and roll! Now the whole thing is built on nothing but shitty rap music and nerds on computers.”

  “Watch your language Marty,” John motioned toward Jake, who was still standing since Marty had taken his chair.

  “Ah shit, kid, I’m sorry,” He pulled a bottle of beer from the pack and opened it on the edge of the table. In less than a minute, he had emptied the entire thing down his throat. He belched loudly then wiped his mouth with his tie. “Just been one of those days is all. How ‘bout you, Big John? Have any luck with Jester’s outfit?”

  John shook his head, “No, they said they weren’t hiring. Check back in six months,” John sighed. ”The same as Simmons, the same as J.W. Poe, hell the same as K--Mart! No one is hiring in this economy."

  “Man you said it, brother,” Marty slammed his empty beer bottle down on the table. "Check back in six months!" he said in a high-pitched voice. "Might as well be six years! Don't they realize a man needs to feed his family? Well, I say the hell with ‘um, let’s go get drunk and shoot some pool! Whadaya say?”

  “Sorry Marty," John shook his head no, "not tonight. Julia’s got the night shift again so someone's got to watch Jake.”

  Marty took another long drag off his cigarette, and then tapped the ashes into the empty beer bottle. “Ah shi . . . uh . . . shoot that’s right," he said cracking open another bottle. "Musta slipped my mind. But hell Jake can watch himself can't you, big guy? What are you now, fifteen? Sixteen?"

  Jake snickered. People often thought he was older than he was. In fact for as long as he could remember he'd always been the tallest in his class.

  John rolled his eyes then laughed. "Marty, he's only ten, and no he won't be staying alone."

  "Ten? Damn, boy, you're gonna be a big-gun like your old man, ain't ya?"

  "Uh . . . yes sir." Jake nodded, unsure of what else to say.

  "Well, I’m headed to Freddie’s if you change your mind. Meeting a few of the boys.”

  Marty got up from the table and straightened his gray sports coat, buttoning the bottom two buttons and then for the second time slapped John hard on the shoulder before downing the rest of his second beer. He set the empty bottle on the table next to the first and belched loud enough to start the dog next door to barking. Jake couldn’t help but laugh. Marty gave him a wink.

  He edged toward the front door then stopped, reaching into his pockets as if he was looking for something. After not seeming to find what he had been looking for, he looked over at John and said. “Say, uh, John. I really hate to ask, but is there any way you could loan me twenty bucks?”

  With a grunt, John leaned forward in his chair and pulled out a worn, brown leather wallet. He sifted through pictures of Jake and Julia, business cards, and several yellowed receipts before finding a wrinkled twenty-dollar bill. “That’s my last one, Marty,” he said, plopping it into his hand. "Don’t spend it all on beer.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me! Jake thought to himself.

  “Thanks, John!" Marty grinned from ear to ear. "I’ll pay you back soon as I get some work. Tell you what, in return you can have my last brew,” He pulled the last beer from the six-pack and set it in front of John. "You boys don’t party too hardy!” He said, walking toward the front door.

  “Have a good one, Marty!” John called after him. “Stay safe out there!”

  “Will do!” Marty replied, pulling the front door closed behind him.

  “Poor bastard,” John muttered under his breath, looking the warm beer over in his hands.

  Without needing to be told, Jake walked back to the front door and locked the deadbolts then walked back to the kitchen and sat down in front of his now cold TV dinner. Bits of Marty’s ashes had fallen into his gravy. Anger swelled in his chest. He couldn’t believe what his dad had just done. They could have used that twenty dollars for groceries. “Dad?” he asked anger building in his voice.

  “Yeah, son?” John replied, not looking up from his still unopened beer. Setting it aside, he soaked up the last of the gravy on his plate with a piece of white bread, then plopped it into his mouth.

  “Dad, why did you give Mr. White that money?”

  John chewed thoughtfully then swallowed. “Because he needed it,” He answered, dropping his fork to his now empty plate.

  He needed it?! What about us? “Dad, he’s a bum! A drunk! He’s probably just going to blow it all on beer! We could have used that money!”

  John met Jake's gaze, his eyes showing the tiniest bit of disappointment. “Jake, son, just because we’re hurting doesn’t mean there aren’t people out there that are even worse off."

  "Yeah but, Dad! Twenty dollars could have bought a lot of groceries!"

  John smiled. "Son, we're not gonna starve anytime soon."

  "Still though,” Jake replied. "We need that money a heck of a lot more than he does!"

  "You're sure about that?" John asked looking his son over with an appraising glance.

  "Well, yeah . . .” Jake nodded dumbly. "You see Marty and all you see a 'bum'. A 'drunk.' Is that right?"

  Again, Jake nodded.

  "Did you know that two weeks ago his wife took their three kids and skipped town?”

  “No . . . I uh, I didn’t know that,” Jake stammered.

  “Did you know when we first moved to Midland it was Marty that got me my first job working the rigs?”

  “No . . . but . . .” Jake said, a tiny bit of shame creeping into his voice.

  John took a swig from his iced tea. “Yep. I didn’t even know the guy’s name yet. Just met him in a bar one night and we struck up a conversation. He told me that GT Drilling was hiring. Without even knowing me, he got me a job the very next day. Said he liked the way I looked,” John chuckled.

  “Wow. I didn’t know that.”

  “But, Jake, that’s not why I helped him,” John leaned back in his chair, a toothpick between his teeth. "Sometim
es people just need an act of kindness to help them get through the day. This world is a hard place to live in and there’s a lot more to it than money, son. You can always make more money. But a good friend, someone that will watch your back when things get bad," he grew quiet for several long seconds, his eyes wandering across the room. He cleared his throat then continued. "That will get you a job when your family needs to eat, that will loan you twenty bucks when you need to get drunk. Someone like that . . . well, a friend like that is worth all the money in the world.”

  Jake had been so wrapped up in his own family's problems that he hadn’t considered that maybe somewhere, someone else was even worse off. Someone like Marty White. He felt a sharp pang of guilt for the things he'd said about him.

  "You done, buddy?" John asked, starting to clear the table.

  "Yeah I'm done," Jake said, eying the cigarette ashes swimming in his thin brown gravy. Man, poor Mr. White, he thought back, remembering the many barbecues they’d had when Marty had brought his family over. His oldest daughter had always had a crush on Jake. So he'd spent many of those afternoons being chased by her, I wonder what happened to her?

  Sweat dripped down into the corner of his eye burning him terribly. He wiped at it with his hand. I bet wherever she's at they have air conditioning! He thought angrily.

  "Dad?" Jake asked wiping his sweaty brow with his napkin, making sure another drop didn't blind him completely.

  "Yeah, bud?” John asked sitting back down in his black metal folding chair. “What's up?"

  He hated to ask but he just couldn’t help it. Sure Marty White may have been in a worse situation, but that didn’t change the fact that it was still hot in the house. "Dad . . . when is the air conditioner going to get fixed?"

  John let out a loud sigh. "I don't know, Jake."

  He instantly felt guilty for asking. "It's just so hot! You'd think once the sun started to set it would cool off some, but it hasn’t at all!" His explanation turned into one long rant. “Sorry.” he said, lowering his eyes.

  "No it’s okay,” John nodded, giving his son a comforting smile. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It's been very hot this year. Too stinking hot. The AC couldn’t have picked a worse time to go out."

  "I wish we could just move back into our old house,” Jake laid his head on his crossed arm. “I really miss that place.”

  "Well we can't,” John said, his face growing serious. "For now this is the best we can do."

  Jake sat there quietly, not wanting to harp on the issue any further. His dad had enough on his mind. Getting up from the table, he walked over and gave him a hug. "It's alright, Dad. I know you're doing your best."

  John’s shoulders relaxed and he ruffled Jake’s shaggy brown hair. "You're a good boy, Jake."

  "Thanks, Dad,” he smiled.

  "Alright, kiddo. Go brush your teeth, take a bath, and get ready for bed."

  "Oh come on, Dad, it's Thursday!” Jake said, playfully shaking his dad’s shoulders. “You know what comes on tonight?" He had to play this just right or he would miss the best show to come on all week.

  John laughed. "You know I can't let you watch that. Your mom will kill me if she finds out. Besides, last time you had nightmares for three nights in a row."

  "I only had nightmares that one night!" Jake defended himself. That wasn’t entirely true. He had nightmares for a week after watching it, but his dad didn’t need to know that. "Besides, who says Mom has to know," he said with a sly grin.

  John rose out of his chair and picked Jake up one handed, throwing him over his shoulder. “Ahhh!” Jake cried out in mock terror. “Dad! I’m too old for that!” He laughed.

  “You’re never too old to get picked up by your old man!” John carried him through the house and tossed him to his bed.

  “So can we watch it?” Jake begged, rolling off the bed and bouncing to his feet.

  John chuckled. "Alright, pal. Go wash up and brush your teeth and we'll watch it. Better hurry though." He said, looking down at his watch. "You've got about twelve minutes till it starts."

  Jake sped past his dad at Mach speed, taking the fastest bath of his life then dressed in his pajamas. Lathering up his toothbrush with a generous portion of toothpaste, he scrubbed his teeth rigorously. He landed on the couch just as the show was starting. The ceiling fan rattled loudly above. John was fiddling with the rabbit ears on top of their little thirteen-inch television.

  “Right . . . no . . . right, right there! Right there!” Jake yelled as the picture finally cleared up.

  "Aha! Just in time!" John dropped down on the couch wrapping his arm over his son’s shoulders.

  The deep, spooky voice of the show’s host came on followed by an eerie music sequence: Tonight on, That's Unbelievable! We'll travel to Oregon where we will meet a family of real life vampires that claim to live off the blood of animals! A clip of several teenagers with slicked back hair and long fanged teeth came on. One of them snarled at the camera eliciting a deep booming laugh from John.

  "Shhh!" Jake yelled at him, wondering what was so funny.

  "I'm sorry, Jake." He said, wiping tears from his eyes. "It just amazes me what people will do for attention. Vampires feeding off animals! That's a first!"

  "Shhh!" Jake scolded again.

  Then we'll take you on a trip to Southern Georgia and introduce you to a man that claims he's caught footage of the legendary Bigfoot! A shaky video clip with something big and black moving through the trees came on the screen followed by a man with a long black beard in ripped overalls. I seen him! He was covered from head to toe in long black hair!

  "Looks like a guy in a monkey suit,” John said.

  "Shhh!" Jake said, slapping his dad’s knee.

  Finally, we'll introduce you to a man that claims the federal government is in league with alien invaders hell bent on dominating the entire human race through alien abductions! A clip of a blacked out man with his voice altered came on. They want to harvest us for our organs. And the government is in on it!

  “I should have known!” John joked. “It’s always the aliens!”

  All of this and more on tonight's episode of That's Unbelievable!

  "You got that right,” John laughed. "That's definitely unbelievable!"

  For the next hour, they sat on the couch watching strange tales from around the country. John seemed to get a big kick out of the vampire story. He laughed hysterically through almost the entire thing.

  It was the alien abduction story that spooked Jake the most. He watched the reenacted alien abduction scene wishing the living room wasn't quite so dark. When the end credits began to roll, he was downright scared. His eyes kept glancing down the darkened hallway, half-expecting to see a gray alien with red eyes staring back at him. He shivered at the very thought.

  "Time for bed, buddy,” John said, causing him to jump off the couch cushions. John gave him funny look. "I knew I shouldn't have let you watch that,” he said, shaking his head. “Now I’ll be up half the night with you thinking there are monsters hiding in your closet.”

  Jake did his best to put on a brave face. "It's okay, Dad. Really."

  "Uh huh,” John said, skeptically.

  "You know I don't believe in things like that anymore!"

  "Uh huh,” John said again. "Anyway, tough guy, it's time for bed. It's way past your bed time."

  "But Dad how am I supposed to sleep when it's still a thousand degrees in here?" Jake asked, wiping his sweaty brow with the front of his black pajama shirt.

  "Well hopefully we'll get some rain in the next few days,” John walked him to his room and tucked him under the sheets. "Now go to sleep."

  "Okay, Dad. Goodnight." Jake said yawning. John started to pull the door closed. "Hey, Dad?" Jake asked.

  John let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes, Jake?"

  "Are there really such things as monsters? I mean, I know there's not. Right?"

  John hesitated for a few seconds before smiling a tiny half smile and saying, “
Monsters?” Of course not, son. It's just a silly, really bad TV show."

  “It’s not that bad!” Jake said, and then let out a deep exaggerated yawn.

  "I love you, kid," John said, flipping off the light and shutting the door.

  "Love you too, Dad!" Jake yelled after him. He waited until he heard his dad's footsteps descend down the hall and the TV in the living room turn back on, before jumping out of bed and opening his closet door. Pulling the cord for the light, he dug through his toys and clothes as quietly as he could until finding what he was looking for.

  “Ah, there you are!” He picked up his aluminum little league bat. Holding it tight in both hands, he looked up at it as if he were King Arthur looking over Excalibur. Then as if the devil himself was on his trail, he ran back to bed and leapt under the covers, clutching the bat tightly to his chest.

  Though he was exhausted, he tossed and turned for almost an hour. It was just too hot to sleep, but he didn’t dare kick the covers off for fear that some alien might grab him up by his feet and haul him off to some alien world where they’d hunt him for sport. The unmoving ceiling fan once again taunted him. His eyes couldn't help but wander to the once again locked window.

  Sacrificing safety for a few brief seconds, Jake got up the courage and opened his window. He winced as it squeaked loudly. If John caught him, doing this, aliens would be the least of his worries. However, his immediate concerns were of dying of a heat stroke, while not very likely, it was still a possibility. Behind alien abductions of course. Nevertheless, a closed window wouldn’t keep a technologically superior race out anyway. That’s Unbelievable! had made that abundantly clear.

  The cool breeze that streamed through the window made the risk well worth it. He climbed back into bed and after a few minutes fell asleep.

  Around two am a loud screeching sound woke him from his slumber. He instantly grasped for the bat, only to find that it was nowhere to be found. Looking around the room, he tried to figure out where the sound had come from. Sitting up in bed, while still clutching his covers, he glanced around the room. He didn't see anything out of place but something definitely wasn't right. He just felt it.