“Yeah—I heard ya.” Miller leaned back in his chair, finished up the last drops of his Kentucky Blue and tossed the can out on the front lawn. “A man can’t even have something for himself anymore these days.” Miller seemed more distant with an odd look to his face. It’s the look they seen many times before. The look of a man who’s got nothing left to lose and could go off the deep end at any given moment. And once he goes off that deep end, you can never tell who he’ll take with him, but you know one thing for sure. Whoever is going with him will never be coming back.
“That’s for sure,” said Sergeant Anderson as he leaned back in his chair and continued sipping at his beer. He was in no hurry to get back to the station. He’s sure that the paper work from the Route 31 crash is starting to pile up on his desk and he is no mood to tackle it tonight. He needs time to get his own thoughts together and clear his head of the crazy ideas and speculation as to why the night’s events had taken place. He doesn’t want anything to interfere with the technical jargon that he must use in his reports. Words like phenomenon, mystery, and unknown are not allowed in the reports, and so far tonight, those are the only words that actually give the best description for everything that had taken place over the course of the evening. Aside from his reports, there is nothing he can do at night and it’s too dark to investigate the cause of death of the livestock. He would have to call Animal Control and the Department of Agriculture to take care of this issue. The state police can only go so far until the government officials would take over, and this is no doubt a case for the government to look into. He hoped it wouldn’t be something that would spread across to other farms, and he knew the small towns surrounding the Miller farm would likely be contained for testing of some random spreading disease. Hopefully not mad cow disease, but how could they explain the flocks of dying birds, or even the lack of tiny flying insects that were no longer sucking at the skin on his bare flesh. Sergeant Anderson looked over at his nephew and thought about what his Jeffrey had said. He thought about how his nephew has grown up so much since he started helping his sister take care of Jeffrey when Jeffrey’s father left.
Jeffrey’s mother had raised him by herself since he was seven years old. Her husband decided it would be best for the family if he up and left in the middle of the night to avoid being a bad influence on his child. It could have helped Mrs. Anderson if she knew he was leaving so she could better prepare for his departure. Since that cold December night, some twenty years ago, she’s had to work various jobs, sometimes two or three at a time just to provide for her only son. Fortunately for her, her brother, Carl Anderson, was always there to help. Carl never had any children of his own. He never married either. He always spent his time putting in overtime with the state police since the day he joined up. He was lucky enough to be assigned duty in the same town he grew up in and was able to help his sister raise her small boy.
All the times Carl was off duty, he would go visit his nephew, teaching him things like how to shoot a gun, and how to change the oil in a car. That’s how little Jeffrey got hooked on fixing up old cars. Carl thought of Jeffrey as his own son, but knew that he wasn’t. Jeffrey always wanted to go hang out in the patrol car with his uncle every chance he got. There were times he would practically jump up and down in the passenger seat yelling, “Let’s pull that guy over, uncle Carl. He must have done something wrong.” Carl would just laugh and then turn to a serious tone and explain the confines of the law and how he couldn’t just pull people over without reasonable suspicion. Well, he could, but it wasn’t worth the chance of pulling over some psycho-crazy guy with a death wish. He would remind little Jeffrey that life is too important to get mixed up in other people’s problems. His job is to enforce the law, not get involved in people’s lives.
Of course, just once, Carl decided to pull somebody over with little Jeffrey in the car. He would never forget that day when he did and vowed that he would never do it again. Jeffrey had just sat there in the passenger seat while Carl grabbed his ticket book and proceeded to call in the plate number to check for any outstanding warrants. Just a safety measure the state police would take to estimate their chances of being shot by a motorist that may be at the end of his sanity. Jeffrey pointed his fingers above the dashboard, making like he was shooting pistols at the car in front of them.
“Put your hands down boy.” Carl had pushed Jeffrey’s hands down below the dash. “Don’t play games like that with the citizens. Our job is to show them respect. Not make fun of them for doing something stupid.” Carl got out of the car with his ticket book and proceeded to greet the driver after receiving a negative report on any outstanding warrants or traffic tickets. Jeffrey waited for his uncle to get past the front of the patrol car where he couldn’t see inside the car. He put his hands back up and made like guns again, making shooting noises at the same time. “Pow. Bang. Bang. Take that Mr. Lawbreaker.” It was all fun and games for Jeffrey, but it quickly changed at the sound of a real gun blast coming from the car parked in front of him. Jeffrey lowered his hands and looked up over the dash with his mouth hanging open, amazed and scared at the same time (if that’s possible) as he watched the out-of-state motorist spin the wheels of his car, throwing gravel up onto the hood of the patrol car as he sped off.
Fortunately for Trooper Carl Anderson, he ducked back the second he saw the driver bring the pistol above the door and stick it out the window. The bullet had whisked by his head. He could feel the wind of it as it went by. He had jumped up, ran back to the patrol car, and jumped inside. He had no choice, but to chase after the suspect with Jeffrey sitting in the car next to him. It was already against policy to have minors in the patrol cars, but Sergeant Kendrick didn’t mind. Sergeant Kendrick, a man already in his early sixties at this time, was as old school as they come. He had no worries about anybody riding in the car. He would always say, “If we let the bad people ride in back then we should let the good people ride in front.” Not the wisest advice coming from the man supposed to be in charge, but the state at that time rarely checked up on what the trooper stations were doing, especially in southern Kentucky. They were more worried about what went on up north in places such as Louisville and Lexington.
Carl managed to keep up with the crazy man that had just tried to take his head off with a six-shooter pistol. The day ended in a good way for Carl and Jeffrey when the suspect veered off the highway and into the center median, crashing and flipping his car, throwing him from it and into oncoming traffic. Justice served. Taxpayer money saved on another trial for the great citizens of Kentucky. Jeffrey was delighted about the entire experience and couldn’t wait to tell his mother about the whole thing. Carl had been quick to make Jeffrey change his mind about it. He didn’t need anyone lecturing him for taking a young boy on a wild police chase, endangering his life and cutting it short before he saw his eleventh birthday. Carl insisted it would be his and Jeffrey’s little secret. Not a bad secret, just one that his mother’s nerves would do just fine without knowing. Ever since that day Jeffrey knew in his heart that he was going to become a Kentucky State Police Officer just like his uncle Carl.
Trooper Anderson looked over at his uncle, who seemed like he was staring off into space on the front porch of the Miller farmhouse. He had seen that look in his uncle’s eyes before. It was the look of a man that desperately wanted the truth and would do just about anything to get it. Miller seemed to have that same look. He thought that maybe his uncle was getting to the point of having seen enough of the carnage and the crazy stupid shit that comes along with the job, at least for one night. His uncle is only in his early 50s, but he has seen a lot in his time with the troopers. Murders, suicides, freak-accidents, and highway shootings. He had seen it all. Jeffrey figured it would be best to pull his uncle out of the so they could get back to the station and call it a day. “You ready, Sarge?” Jeffrey is far beyond ready to leave.
Sergeant Anderson shook his head, gathering his thoughts, and bringing himself back to the pres
ent. He looked around to remind himself of his location and then looked at Jeffrey. He had a rather sad look to his face. “Yeah. Let’s get going.” He stood up and tossed his beer can into the pile of other empties lying in front of the house. A pile that could bring at least ten or twenty dollars if recycled. Before stepping down from the porch, Carl turned to Miller and said, “I’ll get ahold of Sheriff Johnson and have him give you a call first thing in the morning.”
“Alright. You boys have a safe trip back.” This was odd coming from Miller, a man that usually kept a grudge against the law, especially those who pull him over and write him a fat ticket for driving too slow. His feelings must be a little on the low side at the moment, knowing the most money he can bring in from his farm would be from the pile of aluminum cans lying about ten feet in front of him.
“I’ll be seeing you soon,” said Sergeant Anderson. “Maybe I’ll help Sheriff Johnson with the investigation. Don’t you go getting crazy with that shotgun looking for those boys either.”
“I’ll shoot ‘em if they come back. I’ll tell you that much.”
Sergeant Anderson chuckled then he and his nephew stepped down from the porch, got in their patrol car and left for the trooper station, leaving Miller sitting and grieving over his lost cattle and chickens.
Miller waved as they left with a beer in his hand. He pulled the beer down to his lips and took a long drink. He shook his head as the tears began to drip from the sides of his tired eyes. He held in his emotions as best he could until the troopers had left. “I hope they can figure this out before it’s too late for everyone.”
WYOMING
The alarm clock on Bobby Evan’s nightstand sounded at six o’clock in the morning. His wife Nikki woke up and was disturbed with the buzzing sound.
“Can’t you set that thing on quiet mode or use your iPhone to wake you up?” Her words were muffled by the pillow she pulled over her head to block the annoying sound from the clock. She usually works nights at the Cheyenne General Hospital as a nurse. The twelve hour shifts can be tiresome and losing much needed sleep in the morning times just makes the next time at work that much more bothersome. She had the night off and wasn’t expecting to hear a blaring buzzing noise from the alarm. Her husband, however was expecting it as usual. He had to be at work at the Cheyenne Central News Station by eight o’clock. The alarm continued to buzz louder and louder.
Nikki rose up in bed and stared at Bobby. “My God. Can you turn that thing off?” She laid back down, flopping her head on the pillow and letting out a deep breath, wishing she could get back to sleep again.
In a half-asleep moan, Bobby leaned over and tapped the top of the alarm clock with the palm of his hand. “I wish I could sleep all day.” He turned toward his wife with a sarcastic grin to his face. He rolled over closer to her and plopped his arm across her chest and made fake snoring noises. Surely, this would make her laugh.
“You know I stay up all night. You get to go sit in a cubicle and write little stories all day. I actually have to change bedpans and wipe people’s throw up off my scrubs. You want to change jobs? I’ll gladly change jobs with you.” She leaned toward him and rubbed her nose against his. They both giggled. Bobby and Nikki have been married for the past ten years and are still very much in love as if it were the first day they had met. “Don’t forget to get Eddie up and make sure he eats breakfast before you take him to school.” She laughed and rolled back over, pretending she fell back to sleep. Now she’s making the loud fake snoring noises.
Bobby’s grin quickly went away. “Oh come on. You always take him to school. I don’t have time to get him there and then get to the office on time.” He shook her shoulder. She smiled with her eyes closed, trying hard not to laugh. “Come on Nikki. You know I hate being stuck in traffic with all those dimwit parents that thinks their child is smart because they’re on the honor roll. You know those bumper stickers that say ‘My kid’s an honor student at Jefferson Elementary School.’ Eddie’s too smart to go there. We can just home school him.”
“Nope. It was my night off and I’m sleeping the whole day. Besides, who would teach him at home? You? Ha. You couldn’t teach a jack to pop out of its box.” She let out a loud laugh as she turned back toward Bobby and kissed him on the cheek, then quickly turned back over and buried her face in the pillow. Bobby lay there on his side, just a little angry, not with his wife, but at the dumb parents he would soon have to deal with. Plus, he wouldn’t be able to lay in bed until six-thirty like he usually does in the mornings. Now he would have to get up right away and make sure Eddie wasn’t pretending to be sick again.
Eddie may only be ten years old, but he’s got the whole game with playing hooky figured out. Sometimes he’ll blame it on something they had for dinner or sometimes it would be the magical flu going around school and he just doesn’t want to catch it. Smart kid.
Bobby rolled himself out of bed and touched his bare feet to the cold hardwood floor. He pulled them back up quickly, feeling as though he just stuck his feet on a floor covered with thumbtacks. He slowly put them back down as though he was dipping them in a hot tub of water. He tiptoed over to the sink to brush his teeth. Nikki lay in bed, peaking at him out of the corner of her eye. She was all too in love with her husband. She wishes she were back on the day shift so she can spend more nights with her husband and play with her son more often, rather than just coming home from work only to take him to school then return home and pass out until seven-thirty that night. Up and at ‘em. Another shift at the hospital taking care of patients that should have taken better care of themselves.
Bobby knows the time differences between their schedules are starting to hurt the family. He wants just as much as Nikki does to be able to spend more time together. He feels like they are drifting slowly apart. He doesn’t want to end up like his parents when he was a child. Divorced and switching on and off weekends to take care of Bobby. Bobby always promised himself that he would never let that happen to his family and he knows he has to do something to keep it from ending up the same way. It’s a crappy way for a child to grow up.
“You think you can take a few days off this weekend?” Bobby had toothpaste running out the sides of his mouth as he spoke to Nikki. She was trying to get back to sleep. “I think we should take a weekend and go down to Denver. You know check out what John Denver was talking about. You know, how high the Rocky Mountains are?” He kept jabbing the toothbrush in and out of his mouth as he stood in the bathroom doorway, mumbling the words.
“It’s kind of weird that you actually know who John Denver is.”
“He was my dad’s favorite. We had to listen to it every time we drove through Colorado on road trips. So much fun I tell you.” He rinsed out his mouth and gargled with mouthwash.
“I should be able to take some time off,” said Nikki as she lifted her head and smiled at Bobby. “I’ll put in for it when I get to work tonight.” She put her head back down and spoke into the pillow. “Better hurry up. Don’t want to get stuck with those parents, do you?” Her giggles were muffled as she kicked her feet up and down like a child playing under the sheets. Bobby began to laugh and nearly spat mouthwash on the bathroom mirror. He caught most of it by putting a hand over his mouth. He looked in the mirror and stopped laughing as he thought about what it would be like to finally take a vacation with his family after so long. The news station has been working him to death lately and a break would definitely do him some good.
Eddie’s still asleep in his bed that’s shaped like a racecar ready for the Indianapolis 500, buried under the pillows and the blankets with tiny cars printed on them just like the bed he’s in. Eddie doesn’t want to go to school. He never did like it. The kids at school liked to bully him because he’s a lot smarter than most. Seems you have to be dumb to fit in with the other school kids, but Eddie’s parents wouldn’t let him fall behind on his grades. Bobby walked in the room and shouted; pretending he was a poet, “Get up. Get up. It’s time to get to school butter
cup.”
Eddie moaned and groaned at the sound of having to go to school. “I don’t want to go dad. I don’t like it there.” He rolled over and pulled the sheets down from his face. “I don’t feel good. Check my forehead dad. It’s hot.”
Bobby put his hand on Eddie’s forehead and said, “Yeah, you are a little warm big guy.” As he held his hand there, he noticed a wet towel lying on the floor next to Eddie’s bed. He picked it up and noticed it’s rather warm. He looked at Eddie. “It usually helps if you dispose of the towel to make your head feel warm before I came in here.”
“But dad—“
“Not going to work with me today, kiddo.” Bobby tossed the towel in the hamper next to Eddie’s closet and sat down on the bed next to him. “I’ll tell you what. If you get up and get ready quick, we’ll stop for a couple of steak biscuits. How’s that sound?” He rubbed his hand on Eddie’s forehead. “You’re not sick, so let’s get up and at ‘em cowboy.”
“Alright dad.” Eddie moped out of bed in his pajamas that have the little cars printed on them as well. Eddie loved the little racecars and always played with his toy cars when he wasn’t helping out around the house doing chores, usually ramming them into the baseboards. “Can I get a soda, too?”
“No soda for breakfast. You know that. Your mother says it’ll rot your teeth.”
“You drink soda all the time and you still have teeth.
The Gorging Page 2