Star-Spangled Rejects (The Heavenly Grille Café Book 3)

by J. T. Livingston

  Jimmy tried to suppress the coughing fit that suddenly overtook him, but failed. What had started as a dry cough the day before had now settled deep in his chest. He coughed up a small amount of blood and tried not to panic. He tried to remember what he had read about this symptom, especially when it was accompanied by dizziness and shortness of breath—all of which, he was currently experiencing. He coughed again.

  “Quiet back there, Crennan!” Kirk warned. “What’s wrong with you, anyway?”

  “I need some water…please stop,” Jimmy answered back. “I…I’m coughing up blood…dizzy…fever…can’t breathe. I think I’m gonna throw up.” He pulled the jacket tighter around him. “So…cold…”

  Kirk jerked to the side of the road and braked to an immediate stop. He looked in every direction and saw a sign advertising a gas station and fast food restaurant about a mile up the road. “Damn!” he slammed his fists against the driving wheel. He glanced down at the gas gauge and was totally surprised to find it almost empty—he could have sworn that he filled it up the day before, but maybe he hadn’t.

  There were only a few cars on the road, so Kirk eased back onto the road quickly. It was completely dark outside and there were no street lights on this back road that would take him across the Georgia state line.

  If he had checked his rear view mirror a second time after he pulled back onto the road, he might have noticed the police car that followed three cars behind him.

  Rae went to the hospital to check on her husband and was told that he was still unconscious; all she could do was to wait for him to wake up. The doctor expected Ernest to make a full recovery, but the first twenty-four hours were still very critical for hypothermia patients. They told her that his outcome would have been very different if he had remained in the water much longer. They gave her the officer’s name who had rescued Ernest. She knew that Prissy was in the waiting room in case anything happened, so she told the nurse that she was going to make a quick trip to the police station—to see if she could talk to the detective who had saved her husband.

  That was a lie, of course. Rae was more concerned about what had happened to her husband’s Mercedes. Was it left at the lake house? Did the police have it? She knew that Ernest often carried large sums of cash in his glove compartment, and she didn’t want any greedy police getting their hands on that money—her money!

  She pulled into the police parking lot and stepped out of her BMW. She locked the doors and walked quickly, to get inside and out of the cold wind. She put her gloves on before she pushed open the glass doors that led into the precinct. “God only know how many perverts have touched these doors,” she grimaced. She walked into the waiting area, held her head high, and clutched the top of her fur coat around her throat. She spotted an officer behind the counter and pushed her way to the front of the line—three other people had been in front of her. “Excuse me,” she pouted, “But this is an emergency.”

  The desk sergeant stared her down and said, “Lady, you’re in the wrong place to be acting like that. Now, go on back to the end of the line.”

  “I most certainly will not!” Rae stomped her foot and ignored the teetering laughter behind her. “I am Rae Blankenship, and I insist on speaking to an Officer O’Brady—right now, please!”

  The sergeant looked over to the interview room/part-time office, where Officer O’Brady was talking to Cheryl Crennan. “You will have to wait your turn, Ms. Blankenship. Now—get to the back of the line!”

  Rae pursed her lips and glared at the desk sergeant. “It’s Mrs. Blankenship!” she stomped her foot again, but did as she was instructed and moved to the back of the line. She passed by two drunken derelicts sitting on the only bench in the waiting room. “What are you looking at?” she hissed as she flaunted past them.

  She tapped her foot relentlessly for the next twenty minutes—waiting for her turn in line.

  She explained to the desk sergeant why she was there and to whom she needed to speak. She grinded her teeth and clamped her mouth shut when he calmly told her to have a seat on the bench—that Officer O’Brady would speak with her shortly.

  She turned around at the exact moment that the interview room door opened and Cheryl walked out, with Jason holding her hand. “Thank you, Officer O’Brady—I’ll be waiting for your…”

  Someone bumped hard against her, shoving her against Thomas. If Jason had not been holding her hand, she might have fallen. She thought that she had been careless and turned to apologize to whoever she had crashed in to. “Excuse me—I’m so sorry…”

  Rae dropped her handbag when the young woman bumped her. “What is wrong with all you people?” she snapped. “For heaven’s sake, watch where you’re going!”

  Cheryl stooped to pick up the woman’s handbag and stood back up to give it to her. “I’m really so sorry…” Her breath caught in her throat and time stood still for a full thirty seconds. When the movements and sounds returned to Cheryl’s brain, she squeezed Jason’s hand so tightly that she felt him flinch.

  She and the woman stood staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity. The first thought that came to Cheryl’s mind was that they were so eerily similar in appearance. The second thought that came to mind came out in one very weak word.

  “Mother…”

  CHAPTER 40

  Emotional Endings

  It was almost 8 o’clock when the State Trooper radioed his dispatch that he had eyes on the Land Cruiser. He provided them his location and continued to follow Kirk at a safe distance. He followed Kirk for another mile and went past the Land Cruiser after it turned left, into a gas station. He confirmed the plate number and drove another block up the road, before making a U-turn and parking behind an old building that had obviously been vacant for several years. He turned off his lights and positioned himself so that he still had eyes on the Land Cruiser. He requested back-up before pulling his gun and making his way, on foot, back to the gas station. He didn’t want to risk having the driver take off if he saw the police vehicle.

  He made it to another building and stopped behind a huge oak tree. The streets in this small rural town were dark and empty—the only stores open were the gas station and a fast food restaurant across the street. The Trooper watched the driver exit the car, pump gas, and go inside the station. He took that opportunity to move closer to the vehicle. He was crouched on the passenger side of the Land Cruiser, and raised his head. He looked into the station and saw two or three people waiting in line, ahead of the driver. He rose up a little higher and looked into the front seat—he saw nothing but trash and empty beer bottles on the floorboard. He moved toward the back end of the car and peeked inside the back windows.

  “Bingo!” he whispered. He saw a younger boy curled up on his right side in the back seat. “That must be the Crennan boy,” he thought. He remembered that the APB had indicated that Kirk Blankenship could be armed and dangerous. The Trooper had a 16-year old son at home, and the last thing he wanted to do tonight was to have to kill Kirk Blankenship; however, another quick look at the boy in the back seat confirmed that he did not have the luxury of waiting for back-up, or the luxury of following the driver until he could be stopped with spike strips.

  Jimmy felt on fire with fever. He licked his dry, parched lips. He was so thirsty and the wound in his shoulder was throbbing with pain. He felt sure the wound was probably infected, and he doubted that Kirk had any intentions of getting him any medical help. He lifted his head slightly when he heard Kirk open the driver’s door. “Must be getting gas,” he murmured. “Get away—I’ve got to get away…” He opened his one good eye and stared at the back of the front seat. He tried to push himself up, but the pain was too great. He lay on his back and drew his knees up. His head was facing the right passenger window, and when he opened his good eye again, he almost screamed when he saw a man’s face peering in at him.

  The Trooper raised his index fingers to his lips and shook his head.

  Jimmy closed his eyes. He
was positive that he was hallucinating. He thought he saw a cop at the window. He almost screamed out again when the left back door jerked open and Kirk threw a bottle of water and a handful of aspirin at him. He glanced up toward the ceiling again, but didn’t see anyone at the window this time. “Yeah…I’m seeing things…” he thought as he reached for the bottle of water that Kirk had thrown on the floor. He somehow managed to get to a semi-seated position and opened the water. He began guzzling it down as quickly as he could swallow it.

  “Slow down, Crennan. If you puke in my car, I’ll drag you outside, slit your throat, and dump you on the side of the road. Bet that would just break your sweet mama’s heart, wouldn’t it?” Kirk got back behind the wheel and closed the door. He started the car and was taking off when the passenger door was jerked open and a State Trooper jumped inside.

  “Stop the car, Kirk, get out slowly, and raise your hands,” the Trooper was calm; but, he made one mistake when he cast a quick, sideways glance at Jimmy.

  Kirk took that opportunity to gun the car full-speed out of the gas station. By the time he passed the Trooper’s parked car, he was running at 80 MPH. The passenger door was swinging open, and the Trooper was hanging onto the overhead grab handle with his left hand. He waved his gun at Kirk with his right hand.

  Kirk made a sharp 180-degree turn into a cow pasture and the Trooper almost lost his hold on the handle. The gravitational force of the turn threw the Trooper completely off balance, and it was taking all his physical strength to hang on and not fall out of the open passenger door.

  The sharp turn forced Jimmy off the back seat onto the floorboard. He landed on his wounded left side. The wound burst open again and was bleeding profusely. “I’m not going to make it…I’m not going to survive this…” was his last thought before he passed out.

  Kirk continued making sharp curves in the cow pasture, to keep the Trooper off balance. He didn’t want to give the Trooper a chance to get a clean shot. He laughed out loud when the Trooper’s legs slid out from beneath him when he made the next turn a complete circle.

  The Trooper was using all his strength to hang onto the grab handle, but his grip was slipping more and more with each sharp turn the boy took. He lost his final grip when Kirk made the complete circle, and he felt his legs sliding out the door. The force of the gravitational pull was too much this time. His fingers slid away from the grab handle, and the pull of the car carried both of his legs beneath the moving vehicle, just in time for the back wheels to roll over and crush them.

  The driver’s door finally closed behind him.

  Kirk felt the slight thump as the wheels ran over the Trooper. He felt no remorse; instead, he felt like the guy on the movie, Titanic—he felt ON TOP OF THE WORLD! “Hell, yes!” he screamed inside the car, as he made one final loop before guiding the car back onto the highway. “Man, that felt good!” he looked in the rearview mirror, but didn’t see Jimmy on the back seat. “Oh, no—hell, no!” he screeched the car to a complete stop and jumped out. “You better not have gotten out, Crennan—not after all this, man.”

  He jerked open the back door, his breath coming hard and fast. He held his breath for a few moments and finally released it when he saw that Jimmy had been thrown to the floor. He leaned into the car and poked Jimmy on his legs. “Get up, Crennan!” He waited another few moments. “Man, you better not be dead—not this way—this would be too easy. Get up!”

  Jimmy didn’t move.

  Kirk walked around to the back of the car and removed a large kitchen knife from one of the bags. If Jimmy wasn’t already dead, Kirk knew what he had to do. He closed the trunk door and looked all around him. It was so dark outside, and the only lights he saw were the ones on his car. There did not appear to be anything but pasture land surrounding him. His headlights illuminated the road ahead—a small incline—and, he knew he couldn’t be far from the Georgia/Alabama state line. He looked back at Jimmy. The high he had attained from trying to throw the cop from his car was subsiding, and he suddenly felt very tired. It had been a really long day, and so much had happened already. He felt almost like all of this was happening to someone else—like he was watching a movie play out. He looked back down at Jimmy and shook his head. “I really didn’t mean for anyone to die—I really didn’t. I only meant to scare you and the old woman. I needed you to think that I would kill you, but, I really didn’t mean to hurt anyone.

  Kirk stood in the middle of the road and allowed the tears to come—tears for a cranky, old woman who nobody would ever miss; tears for his father and the years he had wasted hating him since his mother died; tears for including his two best friends in his hair-brained schemes; tears for Jimmy Crennan, who had done absolutely nothing wrong except having gotten involved with him and his friends in the first place; and—finally—tears for the life he knew he would never have.

  He closed the back door and fell to his knees. He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands against his ears, and, began rocking back and forth. He still held the knife in his right hand. The tears rushed in like the floodgates of Hell had been opened. He knew he had screwed everything up, and he had hurt so many people along the way. “Mom,” he sobbed. “Why did you have to leave me? W-H-Y?”

  He felt the slight vibrations while he knelt on the pavement, and sensed swirling lights behind his closed lids. He opened his eyes and saw three police cars coming down the hill in front of him, with their red and blue lights lighting up the dark night. He looked behind him and saw at least three more police cars. He took a deep breath and stared straight ahead.

  The police cars all stopped when they got within 50 feet of the Land Cruiser. One officer stepped outside his car, but remained behind his open door. His voice echoed across the lonely pastures and into the empty night. “It’s over, Kirk. DROP YOUR WEAPON, SON!”

  Tears continued to flow freely down Kirk’s cheeks. He could have sworn he heard a lone cow mooing far off in the distance; it sounded more like a plea to him—a plea for help—a plea for release. He shook his head and held onto the side of the car until he was in a standing position. He had messed everything up, and he had lost everyone that he ever cared about. He wasn’t stupid; he knew what the future held for him if the police took him. He shook his head again. “I’m so sorry, Dad…” he whispered low. “So, so…sorry…”

  Kirk raised the knife high into the air, uttered a war-cry scream, and charged forward.

  The sound of gunfire filled the night.

  Ernest had awoken on the morning of Wednesday, February 10, to find Prissy sleeping in a corner recliner. His throat was dry and scratchy, and he felt extremely weak. “Prissy…”

  The old woman stirred in her light sleep. She opened her eyes and saw her employer staring at her. She pushed the blanket off her lap and got up slowly from the recliner. She walked over to him, smiled, and patted his cheek. “I’s been praying for you, Mr. B.—all night long, I’s been praying for you.” She took his hand into her own. “There’s been a lot happening in the past 24 hours, Mr. B.”

  Ernest nodded and tried to swallow. “Water…please.”

  Prissy used the remote control to raise the head of his bed. “Yes, sir, I got you some water right here…yes, I do.” She poured a glass of water from the pitcher on his night stand, found a straw, and helped him drink. “Just a little now, Mr. B.—we don’t want you to get choked. You swallowed enough of that dirty ‘ole lake water, you know.”

  Ernest closed his eyes and allowed the memories to come rushing back to him. He opened his eyes again and stared at Prissy. It did not escape his attention that his wife was not present in the room—nor did he really care. He kept staring at Prissy, trying to interpret the sadness he saw in his eyes. He closed his eyes and a tear rolled down.

  Prissy wiped the tear away and squeezed his hand. “He’s gone, Mr. B.—our little Kirk has gone to be with his mama in Heaven. He ain’t in pain anymore, Mr. B. He’s home with our Lord.”

  His breaths came in sharp, r
agged agony. This pain—the pain of losing his son—his only child, was worse than he ever could have imagined. His chest heaved and his body shook as the reality of what Prissy said finally registered. “But, what if that’s not where he ended up, Prissy…”

  Jason paced back and forth in the Intensive Care waiting room. Cheryl sat on a loveseat, with her knees pulled up to her chest, and her head resting on her knees. They had been there all night, ever since Officer O’Brady called to tell them that Jimmy had been found and was being rushed, by helicopter, to Floyd Medical Center—it was the closest hospital around that was equipped to handle trauma cases like Jason’s.

  Jimmy had been rushed into surgery to correct the damage from the gun wound, and the subsequent infection that had set in. After three hours of surgery, the doctor spoke to Cheryl and Jason about Jimmy’s injury. He told them that if Jimmy had to be shot, he was lucky it had been a handgun, rather than a rifle, since handguns produced much slower velocity projectiles. There did not appear to be any significant tissue damage, but they were more concerned about keeping the infection from spreading. He explained that Jimmy would remain in ICU for 24 to 48 hours before being moved to a private room.

  Jason walked over to Cheryl and kneeled down in front of her. “He made it through the surgery. He’s one tough kid—he’s going to be fine.”

  Cheryl sighed and raised her head. “I know,” she smiled and ran her hands over his buzz-cut. “I’ve been praying all night, so I know in my heart that he’s going to pull through this. I just worry about how it’s going to change him. He’s been through so much. Officer O’Brady told us what those other two boys confessed…how Jimmy and that old woman were kept chained. He must have felt so alone and afraid.”