Blackened

by Tim McWhorter

  I took one last look at the flaming wreckage that used to be Dallas’ prized possession before sending a wad of phlegm in its direction and turning away.

  “That’s for Garrett, asshole.”

  My world was spinning as I limped my way toward the mouth of the driveway. The fire was starting to die down, but it still split the darkness enough to guide me in the right direction. It was going to be a long walk to the main road, and even then, I remembered how infrequently cars came through the area. Especially at this time of night. I brushed aside the doubt that was trying to make its way into my already murky thoughts, and reminded myself that the only thing that mattered was that I was heading in the right direction.

  I’d only gotten a few yards into the dense woods when I thought my struggling mind had finally cracked. I could see a pair of headlights cutting through the trees up around a curve, but I didn’t trust my eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was a car, or I was just seeing things, because I was feeling more than a little woozy now. At that point, it could have been a UFO for all I knew.

  My head wasn’t so much spinning anymore as it was swimming in a sea of dense fog. I found myself unable to think straight, and my steps were just as meandering. I’d stumbled a couple of times already, and wasn’t even out of earshot of the crackling fire. I was losing a lot of blood, and it was putting me in a serious state. The headlights kept coming, and my fingers were crossed that they belonged to a car and not a UFO. Who’s car? I just didn’t care.

  I was bent over, hands on my knees in the middle of the driveway, when the car came around the last curve and framed me square in its high beams. Like a deer caught in the twin rays, all I could do was helplessly watch as it approached at a high rate of speed. At the last minute, the car’s brakes locked up, and the sound of tires sliding through gravel interrupted the quiet. When it eventually came to a stop, I found myself face to face with the bumper of a silver Prius.

  Whether I became overwhelmed with relief, or I’d simply lost too much blood to continue, I dropped to my knees in the pool of light. Then just as quickly, my knees gave way, and I ended up on my side on the rough bed of gravel.

  Somewhere in the night, two car doors opened and I heard a familiar voice scream my name. When two strong arms slid underneath mine and lifted me off the ground, I thought for sure I was dreaming.

  “Get the door,” the low, but rushed, voice said. “We’ll put him in the back seat.”

  It was the voice of Claire’s father. He had one of those deep, yet comforting, voices and even though it was tinged with tension, it still did the trick. I felt my body relax. Not a little bit, but completely. Like there was nothing left to fear, and no reason to worry. So like a newborn with a full belly, I gave in to the unconsciousness that had been waiting to claim me.

  The next time my eyes opened, I could see the sky rushing by the backseat window. It was lighter than it had been, but not yet daylight. As I laid there, upside down tree tops came and went for a time, but were eventually replaced altogether. One after another, buildings and street lamps flashed across the glass, causing the scenery to change repeatedly, never showing the same scene twice. I turned my head just enough to look toward the front seat where Claire sat in the passenger side.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. My throat was dry and the words barely made their way out. I saw Claire turn in her seat and offer a relieved grin through tear-stained cheeks. I saw her reach back and felt her stroke the hair off my forehead with her hand. But what I didn’t do was hear what she had to say. As her lips parted, everything faded to black once again.

  Epilogue

  The sun coming through the window was so bright that Dallas asked me to close the blinds. It was a good problem to have. Not only had the Ohio skies been crappy and full of rain the last couple of weeks, but this was Dallas’ first day in his new room. ICU didn’t have windows.

  “Thanks, kid,” he said. “Now I can see everyone’s smiling faces. Or at least those of you on this side of the room.”

  A black patch covered Dallas’ right eye. The jury was still out on whether the loss of sight in that eye was temporary or permanent, but as far as Dallas was concerned, the patch was at least temporary. Even if his sight didn’t return, he vowed to get a glass eye. “I’d rather make people uncomfortable with my googly eye than see a pirate every time I look in the mirror,” he’d said.

  Dallas didn’t remember much from that night, but like his eyesight, the doctors said the chances his memory would return were 50/50. Dallas hoped it did, but I secretly hoped otherwise. The ordeal was over, and quite frankly, nothing good could come from reliving it over and over in his mind. I could attest: there are just some things that are better left forgotten.

  “So how’s the food around here?” Claire asked, straightening a stack of car magazines beside his lunch tray.

  “Is that what they call it?”

  “Hey,” I said, “if I had to eat it, then so do you.”

  Wade laughed.

  “You’re just not used to anything other than bologna sandwiches and frozen pizza,” he said. “This’ll be a good opportunity for you to try a vegetable or two.”

  Wade’s shoulder was healing pretty well, and the sling was supposed to come off in another week. He’d actually been the lucky one. A full day and a half in the hospital and he’d been given his walking papers. I’d had to spend three days, and Dallas was going on two weeks and counting.

  Which meant that someone had to run Tipsword’s, and ironically, that someone was Wade. It was kind of nice watching him take charge around the garage, dealing with customers and running the business while Dallas was laid up. He certainly didn’t know cars the way Dallas did, but he was doing a good job. Alcohol wasn’t an issue anymore, and he was always the first one in and the last one to leave. He even mentioned maybe going back to school and taking some business management courses to help Dallas with that side of things. It sounded like he was going to be around more permanently, which I didn’t mind. He was a good guy. I just hoped there would be enough work for me. Dallas assured me there would be.

  “So enough about me,” Dallas said, his expression darkening just a bit. “How are you doing?”

  I told him I was good, which I was. The nerve damage in my thigh was irreparable, but with continued physical therapy, it would be an acceptable tradeoff for putting both Arashk Dimir and Corwin Barnes where they belonged. However uncoordinated it made me look, at least I could still walk, which was more than I could say for the two of them.

  I hadn’t even known Arashk’s last name until the cops told me a couple of days later. Ironically, even though he’d been in the country illegally, it turned out that he’d been easier to identify than either his or Barnes’ victims. I told Detective Morgenstern that it spoke volumes about the way things were done in our society. He didn’t agree with me, but he hadn’t argued, either.

  The only victim they’d identified so far was Mackenzie. I saw her distraught mother on the news one night, tearfully thanking the community for its support in this trying time. Through her tears, I could see the resemblance. It was a face I would always remember, and not for what Mackenzie would have wanted.

  Six.

  That was how many victims the police estimate there were in all. Now that the motel had been temporarily shut down, they were taking their time processing the scene for evidence, and wouldn’t know for sure for quite some time. Besides Mackenzie, there were the bones of three different victims found in the room. Once the stash of boxes, bubble wrap and shipping labels were found in the motel’s maintenance closet, the police determined that the bones weren’t just for their own enjoyment, something I could have told them. He may not have been working out of the old church, but Barnes had been distributing all over the world again.

  Luckily, we’d stopped Arashk before he could return to Romania and spread the disease. A fake passport and an airline ticket were found in the room, along with a photo of his mother and a decomposed finger wrap
ped in a silk tie. The airline ticket was for an early morning flight scheduled two days after the night Arashk jumped me. So after stalking me all that time, it must have come down to now or never, regardless what Barnes’ plans for me were.

  This time, the police found Barnes’ body right where I told them they would, or at least what was left of it. They’d had to use the dental records from the prison files to positively identify the charred remains. Remembering the sorry state of Barnes’ teeth when he was alive, I felt sorry for the coroner when I heard that.

  “Well, I’m glad it’s all over,” Dallas said. “I like my life nice and boring.” But I knew it was a lie. He’d hoped to get his hands on Barnes, and truth be told, he was probably more than a little disappointed he’d missed out on all the action. Especially since the payback hadn’t been by his hand.

  “Me, too,” I said, meeting Claire’s eyes and giving her a wink. “I think I’m ready for things to start settling down, so to speak.”

  “We’re getting an apartment!” Claire blurted out. The smile on her face broadcast her level of excitement. “It’ll be really nice, at least until I have to go back to school in the fall.”

  “Well, there ya go,” Dallas said, motioning toward Wade. “Maybe Luke could use a roommate in a couple of months.”

  Wade smiled and threw up his hands.

  “Hey, right now, let’s just worry about getting you back home.”

  With smiles on all our faces, everyone nodded in agreement.

  “So what are you most excited to get back to?” Claire asked.

  “Probably just getting back to work,” Dallas said, after taking a little time to consider it. “Getting back under the hood of some cars and getting my hands dirty. Especially the C10. I can’t wait to get that thing painted and finally out onto the road.”

  Wade and I exchanged that look you share with someone when you realize a piece of information was still only between the two of you. Wade had been the one to fill his uncle in on everything that happened, but apparently he’d left out one critical detail.

  “Well, old man,” Wade said, throwing Claire and me a quick smile before checking his watch, “I gotta get out of here, but Luke here’s got something to talk to you about.”

  Grabbing Dallas’ toes through the thin, white sheet, Wade gave them a wiggle before excusing himself from the room.

  And it was at that moment that I changed my mind about Wade being such a great guy after all.

  * * * *

  Also by Tim McWhorter

  Bone White

  Shadows Remain

  Swallowing the Worm and Other Stories

  PlotForge, Ltd.

  PlotForge, Ltd. publishes worthy thrillers – novels that encompass great plots, great characters and great values. Stories that bring a new perspective to the reader. Stories that both entertain and engage. Founded to assist emerging authors navigate the rapidly changing market for fiction, PlotForge, Ltd. has become known among readers and in professional review circles for publishing quality fiction.

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