Colin glanced at his watch. “Twenty to.”
“We’s good.” Judd stood up and almost fell straight back down in his chair. He wheeled his arms back in circles for a few seconds until he’d steadied himself. “C’mon boys, whaddya say?”
“Dunno,” Graeme said.
“Pussy,” Judd said, sneering.
Terry was on his feet, swaying behind Judd.
Graeme gave one lopsided look at Colin before staggering after them.
It was so still and calm, it crossed his mind that he could just stay there for a while. There was a decent fire, and the night was clear. He could stretch out on the chairs, just forget this damn town and his damn dreams.
Colin shook his head. No. It was time to finish what he’d started. Here, where he’d spent his wasted childhood with Corey and Danny, it was all a little too real, as though he could step back through time and see them building the shed, watching the fireworks, sanding the scooters. No, the ghosts were too close, closer than in his dreams.
He cleaned up any traces that he’d been there, and took a long look at the sight that had so many memories.
After a minute, he turned his back on the hangout for the last time.
At first, the sound was muffled, like someone drumming in the distance; then, the sound became much clearer, sharper, and there were shouts along with the banging.
“Mary? Jesus woman, open up, will you?” The pounding got louder. Colin could hear it in his bedroom. He could hear Mother, scurrying down the hall, and the sound of the door creaking open.
From the crack in his door, Colin could see that Mother cursed when she saw her ex-husband. “What the hell do you want?”
“There’s been an accident. Judd O’Neal’s truck. They’re saying he was with Colin earlier, up on East Ridge.”
Dad pushed past Mom, and as she turned to the side, Colin could see all the blood drain out of her face. The faded pink salmon look had been replaced by a stark white.
“East Ridge?” Her voice was quiet. Oddly calm.
Dad grabbed her shoulders. “Is Colin here? They can’t get into the mess yet to tell.”
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. Five years. Eagle Ridge. Oh my God.”
The look on her face was unlike anything Colin had ever seen before. She seemed to be wilting before his eyes.
“Shit woman, you’re useless.”
Colin made his retreat. That was the thing about being the invisible child; they were so caught up in their panic that they hadn’t even looked down the hall to see him standing in the darkness, watching.
The covers had settled over his head before the light went on.
“Colin? Colin?”
He felt hands shaking him, and winced at the light as the comforter was peeled off his face.
“What?”
“Christ, Colin. You could answer him,” Mother said.
Colin looked over at her, hanging on to the door frame as she stared at him from across the room.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
As though he didn’t know.
“What’s going …” Mother looked at him, then at Dad, and then slid to the floor.
Colin half expected his dad to just step over her and leave, but instead he stopped next to her.
“Give me a hand, eh?”
Colin obeyed wordlessly. They lifted his mother off the floor and set her up on the couch in the other room. Colin went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He let the silence linger while the coffee brewed and returned to the living room with cups ready.
“What’s going on?” Colin asked again, once his mother was finally able to hold her cup steady.
“O’Neal boy’s truck went flying down the hill from East Ridge, just as the midnight run was heading out of town.”
Dad paused, and looked at Mom, who set her coffee down.
“Sliced the top of the cab right off,” Dad said.
Wince. How do you wince? Colin went for a shocked silence instead. When he thought it had been long enough, he sank down into a chair. “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here,” Colin said.
Dad shrugged. He almost seemed to be embarrassed now that he knew Colin was safe.
“Heard from Officer Scott myself. He said you’d been up on the Ridge, drinking with O’Neal.” Dad glanced at Mother. “They uh, can’t make any positive, you know. Can’t say who it was until they, uh, find what’s missing.”
“They can’t even …” Mother’s voice was shaky, so low Colin could hardly hear her.
“C’mon, Mom. Why don’t you go back to bed? You’re off tomorrow; you can just sleep in and rest.”
For once, Mother didn’t argue with anyone. Colin led her down the hall to her bed, and once she’d pulled the covers back and her hand had slid from his, he walked out of the room and shut the door quietly.
“Hey, Frank.” Officer Scott extended his hand. He nodded at Colin as he shook hands with Frank. “Glad to see you’re OK.”
Colin stared at the scene that was spread across Main and Jasper Hill. Fire, ambulance, and police crews were moving in every direction, while lights from the vehicles reflected off the St. James Anglican Church sign, where service times were listed under the bold heading Jesus Saves. The steady rhythm of the lights had a hypnotic effect, like Colin imagined the rhythm of the sea would have. As long as his eyes were on the lights, they weren’t on the scene unfolding around him.
Horrific. Gristly. Tragic. Colin could imagine the media using all those labels, and more, to describe the scene unfolding in this quiet little town where nothing happened.
“Colin. You with us?” Dad snapped his fingers in front of Colin’s face.
“Huh? What?” Colin looked from his dad to Officer Scott and blinked. “Did you say something?”
“I know it’s pretty grim. Why don’t you come with me for a coffee?” Officer Scott asked if Colin was up to answering a few questions, but he gripped Colin’s shoulder in a way that made it clear it wasn’t a suggestion or, really, an option.
By the time Colin got up the next day, the news was all over town and, actually, the country. “Damn good thing I took care of it all last night,” Colin muttered to himself as he dragged himself from his bedroom.
He found his mother in the living room, staring at the TV, a box of Kleenex on her lap and her phone by her side.
It had been ringing constantly; he’d heard it from his room.
Heard how much she thanked God her baby was OK.
He dropped to the couch beside her. 10:00. He never slept this late.
“Saw you on the news.”
“Really?”
“Just a summary, you know. Got you a paper. Didn’t know if you’d want to … well, like you did for Danny. Fill up the blank pages at the end?”
Colin blinked as he looked into the blank blue eyes that mirrored his own. How could he and his mom look so much alike and yet be so different? “Thanks. Perfect.”
“They’re bringing in that guy from the city. Where you went to college. You know, the grief counselor.”
“Mike Danforth?”
“I think so.”
“Where are the sessions?”
“Church basement.”
“Same as before?” Colin asked.
“Same as before.”
Perfect.
Over the next five days, Colin didn’t have a moment to himself. Between avoiding reporters and working his shifts at the Co-op, he was volunteering at the grief counseling sessions. People would cry or talk or seek meaning in it all, and he would lend his ear, so they felt heard, and words of comfort.
He was in his element. This is what he’d trained to do.
Colin had spent a lot of time with Mike Danforth. Danforth was the reason he’d gone into social work at college. Of course, Mother wouldn’t know that. She didn’t know anything. Didn’t think Colin could cut it as a counselor, or as anything else.
He knew better, and had hoped to get a position right out of
college.
Part of him had thought that if he’d helped others, it would make up for not helping Danny. Now he knew better. He couldn’t make up for that. He had to put things right for Danny.
And that’s why he had to come back to Vaughn Falls; he’d be here until the job was done.
On the sixth day after the tragedy, a triple funeral burst the seams of the Anglican Church, and, along with his parents, Colin paid his respects to the families. Shops closed so that everyone could go. Outside, journalists still hung around, waiting for a chance to photograph the grieving and make their mark.
By then, everyone had all the details, and whispers wove their way through town. Judd O’Neal, Graeme Launder, and Terry Arnold had all been up on East Ridge, drinking.
Officer Scott stopped by the morning after the funeral and shared with Colin what they’d concluded in their investigation.
The boys drank a lethal dose of drugs and alcohol before getting into Judd’s pickup. The assumption was that they’d mixed it up on the hill before riding down to their deaths.
Mrs. Griffin, who lived at the bottom of East Ridge, had heard them hollering like a bunch of buffoons, as she put it, hooting and honking the horn as they raced down the old road at a minute to twelve.
The midnight truckers would have been plowing through town within seconds. Woken by the noise, Mrs. Griffin had described lying in bed, and as the sound of their yelling faded, the silence had seemed to go on forever before she heard the sickening screech of tires and smashing of metal and glass. She’d run out of her house in her robe and rollers, an image that had been preserved by local smartphone photo hacks who’d sent their images to media outlets.
From her house, she said could see the few blocks to the church. The bottom half of the truck was wedged under a semi.
Déjà vu, she’d called it.
She used the term incorrectly, like more than half the English-speaking world, but Colin and everyone else knew what she’d meant.
Word had also gotten round that Colin had been drinking with them on East Ridge before they made what one paper called “The Death Run.” Colin had been drug tested and screened for alcohol by police the next day. Clean.
And Walt Anders, who lived on the north side of town, swore he’d seen Colin walk past his house on his way home at ten past twelve. A friend had called about the accident, and he’d been on his way to Mrs. Griffin’s house when he’d seen Colin walking by.
Colin knew who the “her” was, although Walt Anders was still trying to hide the fact that he and Mrs. Griffin had been having a not-so-secret affair for years.
It was why Colin talked to both of them the day of “The Death Run.” He wanted them to remember him.
Someone had the math down. In order for Colin to walk down the hill and through town so that Walt Anders could have seen him, he must have left the party before things got out of hand.
After all, there was no other way down the hill.
Best as anyone could figure, Colin must have left East Ridge by 11:25 to be seen by Walt Anders where he was at 12:10.
They figured the three boys had left the top of the hill at 11:55.
Once Officer Scott had finished, Colin nodded. “That makes sense, I guess. Like I said before, I don’t really remember. And I lost my watch.”
He stood up to shake Officer Scott’s hand as the front door opened and his mother slithered in.
“Colin, I got you today’s paper to add to your collection.” Mary Clarke stopped when she saw Officer Scott standing in her living room.
“Hello, Mary.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Colin took the paper. He glanced at Officer Scott and figured the cop wasn’t in a hurry to leave, so he sauntered back to his room.
“What’s with the paper?” Officer Scott asked. He couldn’t explain to himself why he was still standing rooted in the living room. Although he’d recapped the conclusions of the investigation, and the bosses were ready to dot each i and cross each t and sign off on it, he’d taken the opportunity to relay the information to Colin Clarke.
To get one last chance to gauge his reactions.
“Oh nothing,” Mary said. “I mean, it was my idea. I thought he might like to collect things, like he did before.”
“Before?”
She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two cups of coffee. “Danny. Colin has a whole album. Saved everything.”
“Can I see it?”
She nodded toward the coffee table, and he followed her gaze to the book. Officer Scott picked it up and looked through each page. Although he was a local, there had been a few years he hadn’t lived in town, when he’d been in the city, watching his wife die from cancer.
Mary’s cousin. They’d all told them they were too young, it wouldn’t last, that he’d charmed her with the tall, dark, and handsome looks they said he had, and that he was blinded by her angelic smile, blonde hair, and sea-blue eyes.
They’d been right about it not lasting, but for the wrong reasons, and since he’d moved back, he’d felt the gulf between him and her family.
As though they blamed him for her illness.
That had been when Danny Stephensen had died.
This was his first time seeing the story in print.
“There’re a few blank pages in the back.”
“Yeah, that’s why I suggested Colin save these clippings too. He wasn’t close to those boys, not like he was to Danny, but he had the space.” She shrugged. Curled up on the couch with her oversized sweater swallowing her tiny frame. She seemed to sink into the furniture.
Colin had clearly saved the clippings about Danny because they’d been friends. He’d seen the pictures of the two of them, and it brought back all the memories he had, from family picnics and reunions.
Danny and Colin had been inseparable.
That was the really odd thing. Why hadn’t Colin been with Danny that night? What could have been going on with Danny Stephensen that Colin had missed?
A dead teen. A tragic combination of drugs and guns. Called an accident.
Like what had happened only a short week before.
“The East Ridge Memorial Book.”
Mary snorted. “Oughta call it Death Ridge.” She took a swig of coffee and set the empty cup down on the table. “Heard the other Stephensen boy left town suddenly after the accident. Guess it was too much for him.”
“Not surprising,” Officer Scott said, although he wondered if there wasn’t something more to it than that. These were the things still gnawing at him.
Colin walked back into the living room. He looked at the coffee table.
Officer Scott held up the book. “Looking for this?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Officer Scott passed it to him. “By the way, thanks for all the help at the church. Must have been tough for you, but people appreciated it, you know.”
“Thanks.” Colin still wasn’t looking him in the eye. Officer Scott noted the flushed cheeks.
Embarrassed to be helpful?
“You know, Mike Danforth’s expanding his team. He told me this morning. Thought you might be a good fit.”
“Really?” Colin was looking him in the eye then, a light in him Officer Scott wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before.
“I can tell him you’d be interested?”
“That’d be great. Thanks, Officer Scott.”
“Really, Colin? Kyle.”
Colin gave him a sheepish grin. “Kyle. Thanks.”
Two weeks later, Mary was fussing about, cleaning cupboards and floors while Frank and Colin brought boxes of Colin’s things to the truck before heading to the secondhand shop for furniture.
They all went out to dinner at an anonymous city restaurant, and for the first time in a long time, Colin remembered that his parents used to get along.
After dinner, they went to the store and then drove back to Colin’s new apartment, groceries in hand.
“You sure you have everything?” Mother asked
for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“I’ll be fine. Relax.”
Colin’s father pulled out his wallet and gave him a bundle of bills. “Take it. Just in case there’s something you need. Or want.”
Colin shook his head. “No, Dad. You keep it. I’ll be fine.”
“No, you take it. Even if you don’t need it, you get something for yourself that you want.”
Colin shrugged, took the money, hugged his parents, and watched them walk to the truck. Mother turned back and waved before she got in the cab.
It was how he’d imagined that night. He put the groceries away, unpacked the one important bag, which he left on the floor for a few moments as he looked around. After another survey, he took the bag to his bedroom and pushed it under the bed.
Once the bag was put away, he experimented with the antenna on his used television. Once he found a few decent channels to choose from, he pulled a box in front of the secondhand couch to use as a coffee table, and reached for the scissors.
The late-night news droned in the background, while Colin leaned against the couch, the floor littered with scraps of newspaper. It had been easier to sit on the floor, since his lone lamp didn’t have a stand and cast only a dim light over a small circle in the corner of the dark room.
At last, the scrapbook would be complete: an account of the whole story.
The one that only he would ever know.
Five years ago, they’d been up on the hill. He and Danny. Corey didn’t have time for them anymore, what with hockey practice and being part of the “in” crowd.
But that night, late that night, the lights of a pickup truck had reached over the top of the hill, and Corey’s new gang had crashed the hangout.
Danny thought he stood a chance at being part of things. Thought everyone liked him. He sat there, drinking what Terry and Graeme mixed for him, the firelight gleaming in their eyes.
Colin had known that look. Graeme had beaten him up too many times for him not to know. There were gentle drunks, who fell asleep. There were funny drunks, who made everyone laugh. And there were mean drunks, who got their kicks at someone else’s expense.
The Death Run (A Short Story) Page 2