Blue Macabre

by J. W. DeBrock

  The eyes looking back glowed with soft blue light. His blonde curls glistened with tiny pulsating beams. He could see many of his veins and arteries, traced in blue. His entire frame was outlined with a soft glow. As he stared at himself his eyes were slowly drawn to the reflection of his genitals. The painful erection he’d had reappeared, larger and quite blue. As he reached to touch, it began to pulsate of its own volition and he came. He dropped to his knees as he saw its neon consistency and then passed out on the floor.

  Outside, the meter slowed to NOS.

  In the wedding photograph, Chris stood alone.

  In the morning, Dave loaded the front seat of his patrol car with the day’s paraphernalia; briefcase, hat, jacket, flashlight, pistol, ticket book. The briefcase sat on the seat beside him, his hat in its rooftop holder, the heavy flashlight in a bracket on the dash for easy access. Once organized, he checked his look in the mirror, frowning as he smoothed his hair, annoyed because he’d been a bit rushed and left home with it wet. One strand refused to conform. Irritated, he shoved the key in the ignition and frowned at his reflection again as he started the engine.

  When nothing happened, not even the least click or grind, he said “Shit.” A second attempt was also futile. “Shit!” he said again, louder. On the third try the engine gunned to life. He muttered, “Amen,” although he noticed it seemed to be idling too fast. He checked his hair again in the mirror as he pulled away from the curb.

  He headed for the state police post to pick up assignments and paperwork. At the first stop sign he came to the cruiser stalled and died. “Fuck me,” he mumbled. Mildly appeased when it started right back up, annoyance grew into anger at the second and third stop signs as the car repeated its trick. “I just had this fucking thing in the shop.” He coasted into the post parking lot and the car died before he had a chance to put it in PARK. He got out, glaring.

  He dropped off yesterday’s reports and picked up his new orders along with a fresh coffee. Working the front desk was one of his favorite female dispatchers. He lingered to visit with her and stood around, greeting other officers and personnel as they began their mornings. He checked his watch, went back into the break room for a refill, and sauntered out the door.

  Post faded quickly from view as Dave headed for the interstate. He entered on the southbound side and drove about three miles, turning onto the median at his favorite hiding spot for a speed trap. The location was perfect; it provided great visibility for the troopers, and the motorist simply did not have a clue until it was much too late. He put the car in PARK and left the motor running, sipping his coffee as he clicked on his radar.

  After a short wait an expensive sedan flew past. He made a quick note of the radar reading and tossed his empty cup to the floor as he flipped on his blue lights. He urged the car forward with a spray of grass and gravel, glancing to his right rear to see if the lane was clear. He noticed an approaching semi.

  Fifty feet out onto the pavement his car died. As it coasted to a stop, he wrestled the wheel until the car was half on and half off the pavement. His eyes reflected pure, unadulterated terror in the rear-view mirror as the horrified driver of the huge oncoming rig frantically blasted his air horn.

  The panicked trucker swung his wheel to avoid the collision by jackknifing his rig. The side of his tractor broadsided the rear of Dave’s car, the force of the collision ripping the cruiser in two. The impact immediately snapped Dave’s neck. As what was left of his car swung around, it slid neatly beneath the trailer of the big rig, wedging him in the wreckage. His chest was crushed; he was barely breathing but could not move at all and he was blinded with his own blood from a crushing head wound. As he lost consciousness, the cigarette lighter burst from its niche in the dash. The radio blasted from its receptacle and sprayed chunks of itself across what was left of Dave. His onboard computer blew up, its keys exploding like popped corn. The lights not yet broken lit up in unison and shattered.

  A southbound trucker witnessed the accident as it occurred and called immediately for help, even as he ground his own rig to a halt and rushed to the scene. Within scant minutes paramedics and fire engines had rushed in from Castle Rock. Traffic on the northbound side quickly backed up several miles and had to be rerouted. The truck driver died instantly, the force of the impact dislocating and severing his spine. Dave was extricated by use of the Jaws of Life. They gathered his arms and legs together on the stretcher and bound his head in an effort to keep his brain intact.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chris awakened early as he rolled over on the floor and bumped up against the dresser, aching all over. He stood up stiffly and tried to massage some of the soreness. He quickly discovered by bending his neck in a certain position a sharp pain would rocket into his skull. He did his best to avoid it as he dressed.

  He padded into the kitchen and ran water into the reservoir of the coffee maker. He placed grounds from a custom blend of beans in the filtered basket and as he set the carafe on the warming pad the appliance came on by itself with a click.

  He opened the fridge, wincing as he reached for the brown eggs and the selection of cheese he’d bought the night before. He placed them on the counter along with the bacon and butter. As he arranged strips in a large cast iron skillet, the front burner of the stove snapped ON. He set the skillet on the burner and adjusted the control to MED LOW.

  On the sofa, Jenny stirred as the smells drifted through the rooms. She blinked her eyes and said, “Sure smells good – that you, Chris?” She stretched her arms over her head. The blanket near her feet moved as Rebecca poked her head out.

  shes gotta go pee

  He watched as she tried to boost herself from the comfort of the couch. “Who else would get up and make breakfast?” He smiled his little crooked half-grin, although his voice was raspy.

  “Oh, how stupid of me – of course it’s you,” she said sarcastically. She rose and stretched again. She was wearing a long tee shirt and as she raised her arms her panties showed. He averted his eyes and turned back into the kitchen.

  take a pee before i wet myself

  She opened the door to the deck to let the cat out, then folded her blanket and picked it up along with her pillow, tucking them under her arm as she shuffled toward him. “I’d forgotten what it’s like to sleep all night on that couch,” she mumbled through another yawn. “That sure does smell good! What kind of coffee is that?”

  He cracked eggs on the side of a mixing bowl. “Just something I picked up.” He tossed the beige shells into the trash. “You better go to the bathroom.

  “What?”

  “You better go see if Karin and Suzanne are up.”

  “You feeling okay? Your voice sounds a little rough.”

  “I’m fine – just didn’t sleep too well.”

  When she returned with Suzanne in tow, he was setting the table with cheerful dishes and glasses, and had made a pitcher of fresh orange juice. Karin was nursing coffee.

  He busied himself with turning the sizzling bacon and began cooking the first omelet. He sifted the grated cheese in amounts that pleased him, carefully adding seasonings. The ladies picked up their conversation where it had dropped off the previous evening, consulting about clothing, bedding, car seats, strollers. He tried to concentrate on cooking, but wisps of memories drifted past him as he inadvertently listened. He didn’t really want to recall the nursery Donna had begun decorating early in her pregnancy. He’d insisted on vibrant primary colors and allowed her to pick out what she wanted, as long as it pleased him. Bright red, yellow and blue bedding, contemporary furnishings for the room, tiny terrycloth suits. The remembrance washed over him with a rush of longing and despair.

  wham

  After the accident, when he’d been released from the hospital he’d revised the nursery decorating with a hammer and a knife.

  Sadness weighted his heart. As he placed bacon on paper towels he blinked back tears. He stared out the window over the sink for several seconds, and rea
ched over to unplug the coffee maker after it began its cycle again.

  He concentrated on shutting out the ladies’ voices.

  They praised him as he presented his wonderful omelets. Suzanne was truly impressed, her compliments bolstering his ego and relieving his sadness. More than once, out of the corner of his eye he noticed Karin watching him. When he looked back and smiled she also did, and continued to shove his cooking into her mouth.

  As the women retired to the living room with last coffee, he paused to watch Suzanne as she stood near the back door commenting about the morning wonderment of the lake. Once more he was magnetically attracted, marveling within himself at the amazing miracle of reproduction. He remembered Donna, the growing fullness of her breasts and belly, longing from the depth of his soul for the tiny touch of new fingers wrapped around his own, the silken velvet of infant skin, the tiny cries of helplessness. He became both despondent and furious and tears clouded his eyes again. The accident had robbed him of everything – his hopes, dreams, fantasies. Everything he’d desired he’d been able to act out through his wife. His unborn son had been the most crucial part of his existence and he felt so very cheated.

  no donna

  no more Chris

  He carried his mug back to the sink and wiped his eyes with the towel. The breakfast in his stomach refused to settle and he went looking for an antacid.

  The phone rang, and Jenny answered. “Hi, hon.” She did not speak for several minutes as she listened, her face quickly drained of its color. As she hung up she said, “That was Andy, from the hospital. Dave’s been in a terrible accident and it doesn’t look like he’s going to make it.” She shook her head sadly. “He’s at Longview – Andy’s there with Kim. Dave’s in the operating room.” She hopped up from the sofa and hugged Suzanne. “Would you mind if Chris and Karin see you off – I need to go and be with them. Andy sounded terrible.”

  “Of course. Call me if there’s anything I can do, okay?” She grasped Jenny, who was trembling, by the shoulders and added, “I know he’s Andy’s best friend. I’d do anything to help and you’ll be in my thoughts and prayers. Call if you need me, promise?”

  They soon heard Jenny as she pulled out, spinning some gravel. Suzanne said, “How sad – he seemed like a good guy at dinner last night. Such a waste – although that’s the nature of his work. I wonder how it happened?”

  Chris closed the dishwasher latch, hanging up the towel as the appliance clicked ON. “You never know,” he replied as he massaged the side of his neck. “Maybe he’d made one too many enemies.”

  Suzanne clapped her hand to her side in response to a strenuous kick.

  Chris and Karin carried her bags out to her car. Chris hugged Suzanne, lightly placing one hand on the side of her belly. The emotional rush surged through him, a shallow wave cresting in his brain. He jerked his head back a little from the sensation as the pain in his neck resurfaced. She noticed he was holding his head stiffly. “Here, let me see if I can help you with that.” She placed her fingers against his neck and rubbed with her expert touch.

  “Ahhh,” he sighed, “you ARE good.”

  “Lots of knots in there – especially this one.” She pressed harder, and he winced. “Oh yeah – right there.” She continued for a few minutes and then let her arms fall. “Whew! You’re just about too tall for me to be able to keep that up! I need to get you onto my massage table.”

  “I’d love that. Maybe after the baby comes and you’re back to your practice.” She smiled and kissed his cheek, and hugged Karin.

  He helped her into the sedan, and stood by her door as she fastened her seatbelt. “Please be careful going home, and don’t drive too fast – you’ve got a daughter to think about.”

  “What makes you so sure it’s a girl?” she smiled.

  He smiled his little crooked half-grin. “I don’t know, maybe it’s my female side. Intuition and all that.”

  They waved to her as she backed out.

  They walked together arm in arm back to the house. “That breakfast was really wonderful,” Karin said.

  He smiled and turned his face halfway to her before the pain intervened. “Glad you enjoyed it. Do you have to work today?”

  “Noon to nine, speaking of which, I’m gonna be late if I don’t bust my butt!” She squeezed his arm, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and dashed into the house.

  He lowered his head and soaked up the sunshine, warming his shoulders as well. The heat felt soothing to his aches. He stood a few moments and swung his arms in big circles, wincing each time he reached a painful position. As he turned to go back in, he glimpsed the electric meter, wondering why it looked odd and then realizing the glass cover was gone. He walked over for a closer look and noticed tiny shards of glass lay scattered within the flower bed.

  probably from the storm the other night

  not

  He winced as a sharp pain needled the inside of his skull.

  Making a mental note to call the PUD and have them replace the glass, he went back and entered the kitchen, leaving the door open to its screen to let breeze freshen the house. The cat followed and sat on the porch side of the door. He opened the screen for her but she dashed away to the nearby shrubs. “Bitch,” he muttered.

  Karin dashed down the stairs, dressed in her work clothes, saying as she went out, “Thanks again for breakfast. See you about nine.” He watched her jump into her little compact car and buzz away.

  He busied himself with housework. The phone rang. Jenny was checking in, Dave was out of surgery but in a coma. She was going to stay there with Andy and Kim. He tried to send her a calming influence. “Call if you need me,” he said as they hung up. He shrugged his shoulders again, trying to loosen them.

  Walking through the house, he opened every window. Soon the home was brimming with fresh mountain air and he found a new awakening in the scent, refreshing and stimulating. He stripped off his clothes, dressing instead in a brief swimsuit, his sunglasses on top of his head. He rummaged through the linen closet and pulled out a couple of beach towels. He pilfered the cabinet beneath the bathroom sink and pulled out a dusty bottle of suntan oil. He paused to admire himself in the mirror.

  Grabbing the ice chest from the pantry floor, he filled it with ice cubes. He pulled two six-packs of beer from the bottom shelf of the fridge and scrunched the cans into the ice. The inside door of the refrigerator held one more item of interest – a jar of green olives. Well supplied, he set the towels, olives, and oil on top of the ice chest and carried them out to the deck.

  The lake was sparkling and serene. He spread the towels and placed the ice chest within easy reach, rearranging a couple of times until he was satisfied by a perfect layout. He plucked a can from the ice and replaced it with the olives. As he popped the top of the beer a fishing boat motored by, the sound a tiny droning noise. He positioned his sunglasses, unscrewed the top of the oil, and lay down on the deck. He squirmed a couple of times until he felt precisely comfortable.

  Rising slightly, he placed the lip of the bottle on the depression between his collarbones, tilting it slowly until the oil dribbled out and trickled down his chest. Its touch was cool due to its winter seclusion under the sink; upon contact with his warm skin the chill titillated his flesh and hardened his nipples. The stream of oil slid softly to his navel, and then began to collect at the hip band of the black briefs. He sat up and spread the oil over the rest of his skin, massaging purposefully, working it over every muscular bulge, his chest, up and down his things and calves. The work was soothing and some of his soreness abated. When he finished he guzzled half the can of beer and then turned over to lie on his stomach and soak up some sun from the back. The hard wood of the deck met his erection, and he rearranged himself so he could relax.

  He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. The sunshine was wonderful, the sort that is enjoyed more in spring than at any other time, a reprieve from the Northwest’s long rainy winter season. He fantasized Suzanne was there with h
im, nearly naked so the baby could gain full benefit from the sun. The vision only served to enhance his hardness and as he decided to sit up and snack on the olives the head of his dick poked through the top of his briefs. He toyed with it for a moment and recontained it in the spandex.

  He lounged and relaxed, happy to be alone, all sense of time forgotten. He kept himself plied with oil, beer, and olives and soon felt the telltale warmth of a not-unpleasant sunburn. He ruminated awhile about how he felt being back in the Northwest, considered staying permanently, and whether he should look into getting his own place. His mind created some new files and deleted others, his mood darkening as he recalled needing to deal with his possessions and career. Everything had simply been put on hold after the accident. Those thoughts began to ruin the good taste of his refreshments; he curtly dismissed them and rolled over again to admire the mountain, resplendent today in her glistening sunlit bath.