Keeper

by Michael Garrett

  Amid the continuing downpour Wayne aimed his flashlight at the car and strained his eyes to see. The passenger side of the automobile now faced him and he could see that the front window was either rolled down or missing entirely. Was there movement inside? He focused his eyes and saw it again. Then, aided by a blinding bolt of lightning, he saw her clearly—a woman, dazed, and struggling to get out.

  “Hurry, lady—Get out fast!” he yelled.

  She extended a weakened arm outside, past torrents of water that gushed through the open window and forced her back inside. Her fingers curled around the roof of the car and held tightly as she attempted to pull herself out. Wayne kept his flashlight fixed on her obscure image, watching helplessly from the shore as the events unfolded. The current was far too strong for him to swim to her. She would have to escape on her own, and then perhaps he could help her ashore.

  Finally, her head and shoulders were outside the car, but the roof was now almost underwater. Suddenly she released her grip and sank back inside. Panic stricken, Wayne waved his arms in exasperation. What could he possibly do? Slowly the automobile dipped below the surface and disappeared. Oblivious to the rain and frigid weather, he shed his jacket and kicked off his shoes. And just as he was about to dive in, the woman’s head appeared above the raging current.

  “All right!” he whooped, a ring of excitement in his voice as he danced along the shore.

  But now the helpless woman was being swept downstream. Obviously injured, she could barely keep her head above water.

  “Oh, God, don’t let her drown,” Wayne mumbled as he frantically kept pace with her along the shoreline.

  The current was incredibly strong, and her feeble attempts to stay afloat were growing weaker. Within minutes she would be gone.

  Mentally gauging the force of the water, Wayne stumbled downstream. It would be foolish to dive in now. He could never get her back to shore, if indeed he ever reached her in the first place. Frantically, he swept the flashlight beam downstream. A large oak tree had toppled into the water only minutes before, the current rushing over and past its partially submerged limbs. The woman was heading directly toward it. If he could somehow make his way along the tree trunk toward midstream, perhaps he could snag her and pull her back to shore.

  Wayne raced to the tree and tossed his flashlight to the ground. Blindly, using both hands to feel his way, he groped among the tree’s branches, planting his feet firmly step by step along the massive trunk. Occasional spurts of water poured over his feet, tugging coldly at his legs, but he managed to maintain his balance and inch forward. A distant flash of lightning illuminated her approach, her face barely breaking the surface.

  Wayne crouched and awaited her arrival, the cold spray of rain and rushing water drenching him. She was almost within reach, only a few feet away. He held tightly to a protruding limb with his right hand and stretched his left arm to its limit in her direction. Then, without warning, she sank.

  Wayne’s blood froze. How could he come this far and still let her drown? Quickly he lay flat on his stomach and thrust his left arm deep into the frigid water, hoping to somehow snare her as she passed beneath the tree. He could feel and hear his own pulse as the endless seconds passed, the surroundings blotted from his field of perception as he waited. Had he been a fraction of a second too late? Was she already ten or fifteen feet past him?

  His arm grew numb from the cold, his fingers stiff and barely able to grasp. But finally he felt something—a tangle of hair perhaps? He swept his arm in circles through the water, gathering more. Yes! Yes, it was her! Gripping the tresses of hair tightly, he pulled until her face appeared above the water. She coughed and gasped for air. Thank God, she was conscious. Steadily, he reached for her shoulders and held her against the tree trunk. His body ached, and his arm was numb, almost immovable from the cold.

  Abruptly Wayne felt himself weakening.

  His legs felt as if they might break off at the knees as he raised himself to an erect position, with the woman now spread securely over a convenient tree limb. But as he stood too quickly, blood rushed to his head and dizziness washed before his eyes. A shrill whistle sang inside his ears and helplessly he collapsed into the water beside her.

  The power went off just as Johnny Carson was warming the audience with a few choice quips about The Sound of Music. Tom Farrell was still grumbling when his wife made her way blindly into the kitchen in search of a flashlight.

  “You shouldn’t complain,” she nagged as she passed. “You should’ve unplugged the set anyway when the lightning first started.”

  “Humph!” he blurted. “I’m going to bed!”

  Liz joined her mother and rummaged through a drawer for candles while her mom looked for the flashlight. When it was finally found, its beam was weak—too dim to be of much help.

  “I found a candle,” said Liz, reaching across the countertop for matches.

  “Here’s Tom’s lighter,” Martha interrupted. She flipped it open and thumbed its ridged wheel, sparking a flame to life. Liz touched the candle wick to the fire and salvaged a lid from an empty mayonnaise jar to serve as a mount. Liz’s weak shadow curled across the kitchen curtains as she affixed the candlestick to its temporary perch.

  “They should have been here by now,” said Liz, walking slowly back to the living room.

  “Now, don’t you worry about Nancy,” Martha said, tagging along behind. “That gal’s full of spunk. The weather has been so bad, she probably had to stop over somewhere. I’m sure she’s fine.”

  “I hope so,” said Liz.

  But a feeling deep inside told her that something could have gone wrong.

  The chill of the water stunned Wayne as he plunged into its icy depths. Gathering his senses, he groped for the tree, his fingers digging into a thick section of bark. The woman shifted toward him and grabbed his shoulder, then clung to his neck with one arm, freeing both of Wayne’s hands to feel their way along the tree trunk. The growing numbness hardened Wayne’s skin as he inched his way toward safety. At times he could barely keep his own head above water as the relentless current tried to wrench his grasp from the tree. The aching cold all but took his breath away, but slowly, determinedly, he continued. Twigs and branches tore at his flesh until at last his feet sank into the mushy floor of the creek.

  Silently Wayne summoned a last surge of energy to drag the woman from the water, only to collapse beside her in the mud. The two gasped for air, as stinging rain and sleet pelted their unprotected faces. Wayne reached for her, to determine if she was still conscious, but noticed his fingers were too numb to straighten. He dropped his head back to the soggy ground, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. Exposure would kill them both if he couldn’t get them to shelter.

  Suddenly the woman began to cry, a moaning, wailing sound as if she were half out of her mind. But at least she was conscious.

  The lightning finally moved farther east, leaving in its wake a thick, inky darkness. Wayne rolled over and reached for the woman again. She shivered beneath his touch, and at that same instant Wayne felt a stiffening of his wet clothes. A thin sheet of ice glazed his jacket.

  The car. We’ve got to get to the car.

  Even after his eyes had adjusted to darkness, Wayne could barely make out her features beside him. Fighting against the wind which was pinning him to the ground, Wayne clumsily rose to his feet.

  When he extended a hand to the woman, to help her to her feet, she, at first returned a vacant stare, then instinctively shifted and raised her right hand to his. Finally, overcoming a lack of traction in the mud, he pulled her erect. She promptly fell against his shoulder and leaned her weight against him.

  “We’ll b-b-b-be all right,” he assured her, though not entirely convinced himself. He was growing weaker by the minute, and their movement was incredibly slow. Each blast of wind sent icy waves of pins and needles through his clothing and into his skin.

  Slowly the two trudged down the shore, silently bracing themsel
ves against each other, their steps growing more erratic as they stumbled along a narrow path to the parked vehicle.

  A second onslaught of freezing rain began to fall. Wayne leaned the dazed woman against the passenger door as he fished for his keys inside his pocket, the simple task made difficult by stiff fingers that refused to cooperate. Tiny plumes of frozen breath rolled from her lips and dissolved in the wind as Wayne jerked the door open. After positioning her on the front seat, he ran to the driver’s side and slid behind the steering wheel.

  Shelter from the wind and rain brought instant relief, but the interior of the car was still frigid. Cranking the engine, Wayne held the accelerator at a fast idle to speed its warm-up time. The windshield wipers were slow to start, but finally scraped across a thin layer of ice that covered the windshield. His hand shaking, Wayne reached for the dashboard heater control, but as he forced it toward the WARM position, the thin metal lever broke off in his grasp. Cool air continued to pour from the heater vents, the frozen breaths of himself and the lady frosting the interior of the windshield.

  “N-n-no!” he moaned, his teeth clicking wildly.

  The woman leaned against him, stunned and unaware of the threat they faced. Wayne pushed her aside and forced the column-mounted gearshift to “reverse”. Without heat, and with the windshield obstructed inside and out, it would be impossible to get her to the nearest hospital which was over forty miles away. Wayne’s only hope was to get her to his trailer and call an ambulance.

  He cranked his window down, leaning his head out to see as he turned the car around. Rolling clouds of smoke boiled from the exhaust pipe as the wind whistled through his hair which had become almost brittle from the ice frozen in it. Carefully he backed the car into an open area, then guided it away from the creek.

  The crude side road leading back to the paved road was now a crooked stretch of standing water and icy mud. The wheels of the Impala slid and spun aimlessly, then slowly picked up speed. Though he’d driven on country roads all his life, Wayne still found forging through muddy backroads extremely difficult. Sheets of muddy water sprayed from the wheels as they churned through slush and grime. With his head projected uncomfortably out of the window, Wayne’s face became dotted with speckles of ice and mud. Soon the paved road was in sight and the car careened out, throwing loose gravel behind it.

  “Ch-Ch-Charlie?” the woman moaned beside him.

  “I-I-It’s all … right …” Wayne said, leaning back inside to touch her shoulder.

  The windshield visibility was nil, and though his ears felt as if they’d break off at any moment, Wayne was forced to keep his head outside in order to see. The blast of arctic air was almost paralyzing, as flecks of frozen rain and snow stung his cheeks. Ahead, through the glare of the headlights, he noticed icicles forming along the telephone lines.

  Just a short distance to go. I think we’ll make it.

  “Ch-Ch-Charlie—I’m c-c-cold,” the woman mumbled incoherently at his side.

  She appeared delirious. Wayne forced himself to remain calm, choosing not to respond and, instead, keeping a keen eye on the road ahead. He pressed the accelerator harder, spinning the tires over thin patches of ice, and soon turned off on the narrow chert-topped drive that led to his trailer.

  4

  “Lizzie, why don’t you come to bed?” her mother called from the darkened hallway.

  “I’m too nervous to sleep,” Liz answered. “Something must’ve happened.”

  Next Liz heard the scratchy padding of bedroom slippers in the hall.

  “She’s bound to be all right,” Martha tried to comfort her daughter. “I’m sure they must’ve stopped somewhere for the night. They’re adults—they know better than to drive through a storm like this.”

  Liz reached for the telephone; its dial tone buzzed into her ear. “The telephone is still working,” she said. “They would’ve called if they had stopped.”

  A chill lingered in the air despite a smoldering flame in the fireplace. Martha wrapped her housecoat tighter. Her expression revealed that she, too, was concerned about the travelers, but Liz knew her mother wouldn’t let on. Shivering, the two women hugged tightly.

  “Honey, telephone lines are down all over the place,” Martha said. “Even though ours is still workin', the phones are probably dead between here and wherever Nancy is staying. According to the radio, the police are closin’ highways left and right, so Nancy and Charlie probably had no choice but to stop.”

  Liz stirred quietly on the sofa, snuggling beneath a handmade quilt.

  “Soon as the ice melts in the morning, they’ll come drivin’ up, just you wait and see,” Martha continued. “You might as well give up on ‘em tonight and come to bed.”

  The candle was burning low, the living room growing colder. It was well past midnight and Liz realized her vigil was accomplishing nothing. Reluctantly, she rose from the sofa and draped the quilt about herself as she trudged down the hallway, her mother at her side.

  “I suppose you’re right,” said Liz with a sigh. “But I’ll never get a wink of sleep.”

  A mixture of fuel odors stank inside the trailer as the temperature began to rise. The flame of the kerosene heater was at its peak, and Wayne had turned on all four burners of the butane stove for additional warmth. Already windows throughout the small trailer were beginning to sweat from the collision of warm air against cold. The woman lay asleep on the sofa, covered from neck to toe with a woolen blanket.

  Wayne sat beside the telephone, flexing his fingers to dial. Following a frantic search through the kitchen for the small rural telephone directory, he realized that he could merely call the operator. Wayne glanced again at the pitiful woman, shivering in her sleep beneath the covers. Just as he reached for the receiver, an abrupt ring of the telephone jarred him, the loud jangling noise harsh against his thawing ears. Quickly he snatched the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “Wayne? When did you get back?”

  It was his mother again. Till now his original mission had been completely forgotten.

  “I didn’t find him, Mom. But you won’t believe what-”

  “He’s in jail again, Wayne, and you’ve got to get him out.”

  “Mom, I can’t. There’s something I’ve got to—”

  “He’s down at Columbiana. Got picked up Driving Under the Influence. I couldn’t make much sense of him. But he needs you, Wayne.”

  “Mom, do you have any idea how dangerous it is outside? Dad’s safer in jail. And besides, I can’t drive on these icy roads. It’s impossible.”

  “Wayne, he needs us—”

  “He’s a drunk ol’ fart and he deserves to be in jail!” Wayne fumed.

  “ Wayne Alton Crocker!” she scolded. “He has his faults, just like me and you, but he’s still your father. Am I going to have to ask Jack to bail him out?”

  Wayne tried to calm himself. “Mom, listen. Jack won’t go. The roads are icy. Nobody can go to Columbiana in this kind of weather.”

  Wayne knew she’d never give up, and he could almost anticipate her next words. But he’d have to hang up. He stared again at the sofa. Precious seconds were being wasted. The lady needed help.

  “I’ll call you back,” he snapped, then pushed the switchhook and dialed “0”. Static sounded from the earpiece as he waited for the connection. Finally he pressed the switchhook for another attempt, but now there was silence on the line.

  The telephone was dead.

  The steel bars of the Shelby County Jail were cold to the touch of James Crocker. His head ached and his stomach cramped as if Jack Daniels himself had crawled down his throat and was now in the process of kicking his way out. Crocker’s head throbbed in relentless waves; his face was covered with beads of sweat. No one had come to bail him out, and his anger and impatience were compounding by the minute. Finally he stumbled backward and collapsed on the cell’s lone ragged cot. The mattress smelled of perspiration and urine, but James hardly noticed. His only hope
was to get out of this miserable place as soon as possible, and his boy Wayne should have been here long before now.

  “You tell that boy of mine, “ he yelled to no one in particular. “You tell him I’ll skin his ass if he ain’t here in the next five minutes?’

  James paused to massage his temples—his head pulsed like a bass drum. “Goddamn piss-ant,” he mumbled, running an unsteady hand through his unkempt hair. Around him loomed a maze of empty cells—a slow night for the fuzz, he thought. Below their quota. Clad only in khaki work pants and a dirty T-shirt, he noticed goosebumps breaking out across his arms.

  “Shit, it’s cold in here,” he said to himself. “Hey, Sheriff—Where’s my coat?”

  Only a hiss from the radiator broke the silence.

  “Hey, turn up the goddamn heat!” he yelled. “And you tell that piss-ant boy of mine to get his ass over here.”

  James lurched toward the cell door and shook the bars in disgust.

  “You tell him now, you hear?”

  Clothed in dry jeans, flannel shirt, two pairs of long underwear, and a heavy overcoat, Wayne faced the bitter wind outside the trailer. The cold was so brutal, his fingers were freezing inside his gloves. Icicles weighted down nearby tree limbs low to the ground. Wayne stared ahead, his feet crunching over a sheet of ice as he walked. But despite the protective clothing he wore, his lips began to quiver, his ears began to sting—the weather was unbearable.

  He had hoped to drive the injured woman the short distance to his parents’ home, but he now knew it would be impossible. A thick layer of ice covered his car, and its doors couldn’t be opened without first melting the ice. And, besides, if the car were to slide into a ditch, which was quite possible, the two of them could freeze before getting back to shelter. It was hopeless—like it or not, they were stuck.

  The lights from inside the trailer dimmed, then returned to full brilliance. In the surrounding woods the ice-laden limbs of trees crashed to the ground. Suddenly the lights winked out for good, and the spark of broken power lines glowed faintly through the darkness near the main road. Wayne watched the lights fade through the windows, his fingers and arms stiffening again. Cautiously he fought the wind and trudged back to the warmth of the trailer.