JB
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Do or do not, there is no try
God helps those who help themselves. When the end of an effort comes and there still is no victory, when should one give up? I say never, giving up admits defeat and admits that you are not good enough. What if the definition of victory differs between people? In that case I have already won and I am just repeating the cycle. In my case victory comes in the form of realization that I am destined for greater things. But if someone were to ask me what those things are, I couldn't tell them. I just feel it deep in my soul. Until that day comes I am going to continue to live for the moment and seize the day because life is fleeting and it is bound to catch up with you.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Really??
The world is full of sore losers these days. Here recently the United States has elected it's first black President. Not only is our new President black but he is a Democrat. This ads insult to injury to those rightwing southern republicans out there. George Bush was president for eight years. He did do some good things for the country/world like search for wmd's and end up getting that bastard Saddam. But he also made things a tad rocky with the economy, healthcare and the housing market. Maybe not directly but it happened and that's the point. It will take time for it to get better. It will get better and people need to realize that it takes time to clean up a mess. Barack Obama has a ton of work to do. He may not do it in one year or two but it is important to have faith in our Government. Think how worse off we could be. We could live in a country where you have to live in fear of Taliban murdering your family, or violent rebels ripping through your village murdering and slaying women and children because they won't join their fight. Our country is the land of Liberty. We have it so good here. When I hear people complain, it makes me sick. It could be worse. A lot worse.
Cheers
JB
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Augustus Chapter One Intro
The day my father died, I graduated from High School. I remember the smile on his face when I walked up to receive my diploma. I remember he was wearing his old brown suit that my mother had bought for him before she died. He was so proud of me.
My father raised me all by himself. He was a simple man that didn't rely on too much to get by. He came from three generations of Irish farmers. The land we farmed and lived on was the same farmland that was passed down from each generation. The only thing that remained from the original was a big red barn. It is still holding up just fine but it takes constant renovation to keep it from falling apart. If my father wasn't working with the livestock, he was working on that old red barn.
We went to lunch to celebrate at an old diner that we have been going to since I was born. It was one of those joints you see on television where the same old regulars show up every morning for coffee. Me and my pop were some of those regulars. He sat down across from me and said "I am so proud of you son, I am sure your mother is proud of you too".
After we had finished eating. My father starting fidgeting with the inside of his jacket. He pulled out an envelope and layed it across the table with my name facing up in his messy handwriting. I picked it up and slid the contents into my open hand, I had a feeling that I knew what it was and my intuition was right. A set of keys landed in the palm of my hand. It was the keys to my pops old truck. I had thought that he had gotten rid of it when he got the new one just the year before.
"Your giving me Betsy?"
My father raised me all by himself. He was a simple man that didn't rely on too much to get by. He came from three generations of Irish farmers. The land we farmed and lived on was the same farmland that was passed down from each generation. The only thing that remained from the original was a big red barn. It is still holding up just fine but it takes constant renovation to keep it from falling apart. If my father wasn't working with the livestock, he was working on that old red barn.
We went to lunch to celebrate at an old diner that we have been going to since I was born. It was one of those joints you see on television where the same old regulars show up every morning for coffee. Me and my pop were some of those regulars. He sat down across from me and said "I am so proud of you son, I am sure your mother is proud of you too".
After we had finished eating. My father starting fidgeting with the inside of his jacket. He pulled out an envelope and layed it across the table with my name facing up in his messy handwriting. I picked it up and slid the contents into my open hand, I had a feeling that I knew what it was and my intuition was right. A set of keys landed in the palm of my hand. It was the keys to my pops old truck. I had thought that he had gotten rid of it when he got the new one just the year before.
"Your giving me Betsy?"
"She is at home in the barn with a full tank waiting for ya."
My father and I parted ways. Some buddies of mine were going to crash a couple of graduation parties and I wanted to go along. If I knew then what I know now, I would have stayed home with my dad.
Monday, July 13, 2009
some roadblocks n such
I have a rather large number of distractions in my day to day life. I try to read as much I can but either I find that I still have some things to do around the house or someone wants to talk to me. I find that reading is extremely important in expanding your personal vocabulary and helping yourself think in complete sentences. I would love to have a day off all to myself where I can read as much as my brain will let me and write until I get carpel tunnel. That is not going to happen anytime soon. My honey do list is never ending.
My Augustus story is coming along in my head nicely. I just do not want my next post of it to be short like the last few. I love the idea of it. I know that once I get going it will be hard to stop.
On a different note, I have had something happen today. I know that things in life happen for a reason. Without going into too much detail, someone phoned me this evening that I have not spoken with all that much in a few years. Since my wife has become pregnant, we have been given much more attention from family. I think that given recent events of the last year, it has made this particular person realize that they need to make some changes in themselves before they alienate more than just a couple of people in their/our family. Who knows what will happen when our girl is born but I hope for the best. A family is only strong when it is whole.
Cheers
Jeremy
My Augustus story is coming along in my head nicely. I just do not want my next post of it to be short like the last few. I love the idea of it. I know that once I get going it will be hard to stop.
On a different note, I have had something happen today. I know that things in life happen for a reason. Without going into too much detail, someone phoned me this evening that I have not spoken with all that much in a few years. Since my wife has become pregnant, we have been given much more attention from family. I think that given recent events of the last year, it has made this particular person realize that they need to make some changes in themselves before they alienate more than just a couple of people in their/our family. Who knows what will happen when our girl is born but I hope for the best. A family is only strong when it is whole.
Cheers
Jeremy
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
The New Story
Recently I have posted the Intro to Augustus which is going to be my next short or longer short story. This story seems to be more complicated than my first so its taking a bit longer for me to iron out some of the details. More should be up soon.
Jeremy
Jeremy
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Intro to Augustus continued
The wind starts to settle. He lowers his arms to his sides and opens his eyes and all the wind and weeds become calm. He takes a deep long breath. He raises his arms out again. His expressionless and angelic face becomes one of intense focus and concentration. He brings his hands together in a large defening clap that shakes the earth to its core. A thick dust storm erupts tearing the surface of the earth in its wake.
Ten miles away the town of Smithton, Nevada is leveled by a freak storm. There were no survivors.
Intro to Augustus
He is standing alone in the middle of a desert. His angelic face is void of any expression. His tall body stands amongst weeds and tall dead sea grass. He is facing nothing in an endless direction. He closes his hazel eyes and clenches his fists. A light breeze starts to blow just enough to make the tall weeds around him start to move. His brown flannel shirt begins to billow as the wind picks up pace. The man opens his hands palm and lifts his arms out as if to hug the earth. The wind begins to howl, picking up dust and grass. The mans long brown hair becomes tassled and unkempt as the wind pushes harder against his body. The man disapears in a cloud of debree as the wind turns into a gale force creating a violent dust storm.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Bang!
While sitting at my small cubicle, reading my boring emails about corporate spending and “right-sizing”. I get a phone call on my cell. I was not about to answer it because of some new rule management posted. According to the IT department of our company, cell phone usage within the main building interferes with the wireless network and can cause disruptions of service. I am sure they will write someone up for answering their cell. I have had way too many write-ups this month due to my “lack of motivation”, so answering the call would be a bad idea. They would love to have an excuse to fire anyone, these days. I reach down to silence the call, because a ringing phone could bring about negative attention towards me from my supervisors. I see on the small screen on the front of the phone that it is a call from my mother in law. She never calls me unless it is…..well she never calls me.
I call her back from the phone in my cubicle and it barely even rings when she answers on the other end. “Hey Ma!” I have always called her ‘Ma’ since I have known her. She looks like a ‘Ma’ to me.
“Keith, Kasie’s office is being held up, I need you here quick.” I can tell that she is scared because she is crying. Her voice has that hoarseness to it like she has been crying really hard. She managed to hold it down to call me.
“Held up? Like, you mean hostage??” I know what she meant by held up but I wanted to hear it from her first before I made an assumption. Saying that something is held up could have multiple meanings. You see this shit in movies all of the time but you never think it will happen in real life.
“Yes…” She pauses at saying this because she starts crying really hard. I give her a second so I can think about what I should say.
“Its going to be alright, I am on my way.” I say this really shaky because the truth about what is happening starts to set in. I picture a crazy asshole in a ski mask holding a gun to my wife.
“Okay” She hangs up the phone.
I grab my jacket from the back of my swivel chair and head towards the exit of my floor. I pass by my supervisor’s office and poke my head in the door.
“Dude, I gotta jet. There is some shit going down at my wife’s office. I will call you later.” He looks at me with this dumbfounded expression, like someone gave him a gadget that he doesn’t know how to use.
My car is pretty old; I drove it all through college. I commuted from where I lived in Nashville Tennessee to my school in Western Kentucky, so there are quite a lot of miles on the odometer. But even though it was old and up there in mileage, it could still drive faster than any other four cylinders out there. It’s a ’99 Chevy Malibu. Its dark beige paint faded to light champagne.
The Interstate went by in a blur. My sporadic lane changing was upsetting my fellow commuters, who were rapidly honking their horns at me. I was pretty sure that I was averaging about ninety miles per hour. I knew that my speed would get me into trouble but I did not give a rat’s ass about the cops. I just wanted to get to my wife as soon as possible.
I rounded the last corner that turns into my wife’s office’s parking lot. There were already about four cop cars parked outside with the officers walking around in their official hostage situation jackets. There was also a swat bus parked caddy corner at the end of the parking lot. Then I noticed my mother in law’s suburban. She and Kasie’s father were standing outside. Tammy was crying and touching her eyes with a tissue. Tom, Kasie’s father was solemn and worried looking. I seldom see him not acting goofy, so it felt weird walking up towards them.
“What is going on in there? Any updates?” I bet there weren’t but I felt like asking anyways. By the looks on their faces, it’s been a vicious few hours.
Tom was the first to speak. “No, nothin’ yet. We could hear yellin’ in there but we think it was when the negotiator or whatever went in there to talk ‘em down, there are two of ‘em we think”.
I put my arm around my mother in law trying to comfort her even though it was pointless. She was trying her damnedest to hold her shit together. Tom was too. The only time it was a possibility he became emotional was when their dog died a few years back, but it was merely speculation.
An officer started our way holding a radio in his left hand, staring us down as he was walking. It seemed that he was actually looking in my direction rather than my in laws. When he finally approached he looked dead at me. “Are you Keith, Kasie’s husband?”
“Yes, I am, how can I help?” I asked apprehensively. Do the hostage takers know about me? Does the officer think I am involved?
“I am going to need you to come with me.” This worried me a lot. I looked at my in laws with a look of what the hell on my face. But I know the best thing to do is cooperate as much as I can.
I followed the officer up to the swat van at the end of the parking lot. I followed him inside through a small door. The van kind of reminded me of my grandparents’ camper. It has the same smell and has the same kinds of furnishings. Only this had computers, radios and a hell of a lot of guns and swat gear. He sat me down at the small table in the middle of the van. He pulled a manila folder from a stack and opened the folder. In the dead center of the folder was a picture of a man I recognized as an older version of a kid I went to school with. He looked a lot older and worn than I remember.
“Do you know who this is?” He asked me, knowing what the answer was going to be.
“His name is Steven Cearcy; he lived in the town that I grew up in.” This was starting to worry me. Steven and I were not in the least bit friends. He hung out with another boy named Steven. They terrorized our small neighborhood, setting things on fire, hurting our pets and creating havoc where ever they went together. Once they both cornered me after school, attempting to beat me up for no good reason. He was your typical bad seed.
“This man, along with two others you may be familiar with are inside holding your wife and her co workers hostage at gun point. If their demands are not granted then they will start executing hostages. Mr. Strike, they chose this office because of you. They know that your wife works here.”
There is a point when you start becoming angry and things start slowing down. Your face gets red and you want to do nothing but Destroy! Destroy! Destroy! How the hell could these guys know where I lived and who my wife is? I have not seen them since eighth grade. It’s been eighteen years since then.
“There is a problem with their demands.” He looked up at me from the file with a reproachful look as he spoke. “They are demanding five hundred thousand dollars in cash delivered to them in there (pointing at the building with his radio) by you. They want you to hand them the bag and then….and then shoot yourself in front of your wife.” He held is breath for my response, expecting a violent reaction.
I did not know what to say, I was at a loss for words.
There was a problem with their demands…..I am pretty positive that I can not be killed.
It started when I was about eight years old. I was playing in my front yard with my best friend DJ. DJ was a tad crazy. He would always come up with these stupid dares for each other; like I dare you to stand on the seat of your bicycle when moving, or I dare you to ring Mrs. Stanley’s doorbell and run away like hell before she comes to the door. That day he had dared me to climb the tallest tree in my yard, all of the way to the very top.
“Come on, I dare ya, chicken!”
“I’m not a chicken, my stepfather might see and then I will get in trouble.”
“No he wont, he is watching TV in the den.”
“Okay but you better watch for him.”
“Okay I will, just go, I will let you know if I see him.”
I started up the tree. It was a tall oak tree in the front of my house. It must have been there for generations because it was the tallest tree in the neighborhood. I moved as slow as possible, making sure my footing was going to hold and that my grips on the branches would not slip. I felt that if I tried to rush I would fall. I knew as I was moving up that I should not look down, looking down would only make it harder to keep going. At last, I was nearing the top of the tree. The width of the oak was thinning and swaying about more in the autumn breeze. I grappled around the top of the trunk with both of my feet planted on what I hoped with the sturdiest branch at the top. Then I spotted a bee hive on the other side of the trunk, barely visible by a patch of leaves. At first I thought it was empty, maybe the bees moved into another hive that was better suited. I was wrong. They started one by one crawling out of the bottom, in rapid pace. What seemed like a small bee hive housed more bees than one would imagine. They started swarming about with a deafening buzzing sound. I started my way down. I was moving a little too fast but I was in a state of panic. I was supposed to be allergic to bee stings. I have not been stung since I was five; I was unaware of what the effect would be. My ankle got caught on a small middle branch that forked out of a larger branch. My right leg went down while the left stayed behind. I was being forced to do the splits. My footing expired and I lost my grip of the trunk. My body went to the ground head first. I landed at the base of the tree where the trunk stuck out of the ground. DJ went running to get my mother. According to him, it looked like I broke my neck by the way I was sprawled out on the ground. My head was twisted all the way around facing the base of the tree.
They came running out of the house, my mother in a state of unimaginable panic. But when they walked up, I was standing there dusting the dirt off of my clothes. DJ looked at me with eyes bulging and his mouth wide open in utter bewilderment.
“Dude, you okay? You landed on your head and it looked like you broke your neck!”
“I’m fine.” I started massaging the back of my neck. “I do feel a little weird but I think I’m okay.”
I looked at my mom’s face. She was not looking to happy with me. She forbade us to ever climb another tree ever again. If I ever did, she would ground me until the end of existence.
I should have died that day. I should have broken my neck or at least been severely paralyzed. I could not explain what had happened. There were a dozen different experiences just like this all through my life, I was awfully clumsy. Most recently, my body fought off an extremely terrible staph’ infection. I got it from a physical exam when I was twenty-three. The doctor was taking my blood and some how introduced toxins into my system. He became suspicious when it didn’t kill me, so I changed doctors. I never told anyone about any of this, not even my mother.
So where does this leave me? I would do anything to keep my wife safe, but surely it can’t be an option. The policeman said it wouldn’t be. But what if I had no choice? I need to know what the situation looks like. I have an advantage here. If I should go in there and make them think I am dead, even by their hands, I could take them out when their guard is down. That is if they keep their word.
“Officer, what do you need me to do then? I am only concerned with my wife’s safety and the safety of the others too. I will do anything to help.”
“For starters, you need to be with her parents right now. They are really worried and scared for their daughter. They need your company. Let us figure out what to do. Now, go out there and be wi….” The officer’s radio crackled on.
“….Officer Neal, one of the gunmen is on the line and wants to talk to you”
“Excuse me for a second, please.” Officer Neal walked over to a counter behind our small table where a multi-line phone sits with a red light flashing. He reaches down, grabs the phone and pushes one of the buttons before lifting it to his ear.
“This is Officer Neal speaking, whom am I speaking with?”
~~~~~~
“What do you need Steven?”
~~~~~~
“We are trying are best to get that amount for you…it is going to take more time.”
~~~~~~
“Please Steven; don’t do anything you will regret. We are making things happen for you but it is going to take more time.”
~~~~~~
“I understand, don’t worry... I will contact you as soon as the funds are available.”
He hung up the phone. “To be honest with you, this son of a bitch is playing hardball with us. He is asking for a lot of money in a short amount of time and I am doing my best dealing with him but I am getting close to my wits end. You are not going in there, period so don’t worry about that. Okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” I said solemnly. “Whatever you need me to do let me know”
I stepped out of the mobile command center and walked over to my wife’s parents. They were looking at me with this strange look, almost of suspicion. This situation was getting worse fast and I need to think of something and fast or I may lose the love of my life.
“Officer Neal let me in on who those guys are. One of them knows me; I think he is the leader of their group or something. He knows me from middle school and Officer Neal believes that they chose Kasie’s office because of me.” The anger, worry and scared feeling were hitting me all at once. I started to lose control and cry. “He has some grudge against me and I don’t know why. I never did a mean thing to anyone when I was a kid. I swear to God if he touches a hair on her head, I will rip his damn throat out.
My mother-in-law grabs my arm with a soft loving force. She looked at me so lovingly that it made it difficult not to cry even harder. “You know that Tom and I don’t place any blame on you for this, right? This is not your fault and you have no control over this. We will get through this; we just need to ask to God to watch over Kasie. We love you Keith.” Tom nodded in agreement to what Tammy said. I love Tom and Tammy, not just because they are Kasie’s mother and father, but because they treat me like I am their son.
Part II
Car accident on Robertsfield Highway leaves two seriously injured.
The Corner of Apple Street and Robertsfield Highway was the scene of a severe car accident involving a small car and a large pickup truck. The driver of the truck reportedly drove through a stop sign and struck the small car on the passenger side. The driver of the truck was not injured but the two in the smaller car were transported via life-flight to Vanderbilt Hospital. The two injured are local residents of Robertsfield, Tanya Black and her ten year old son Keith Strike who is a Robertsfield Elementary School student. They still remain in intensive care under close watch.
That was the closest anyone has ever come to discovering my secret. The car my mother was driving was beyond totaled. It was a small Chevy Cavalier with a sun roof. I loved riding in that car because it had FM radio, so I could listen to Nashville’s rock stations. The truck that hit us was rather large. It was one of those heavy duty work trucks with four rear wheels. It had to have been moving at least forty miles per hour. My mother’s car never stood a chance against that beast of a truck. The truck hit the Cavalier’s passenger side door, making it flip over. My seat belt was not fastened so when it rolled, I was thrown through the open sun roof. Supposedly the car rolled back on top of my legs but I had blacked out so I don’t remember any of the accident. I came to and there was someone leaning over me attempting to calm me down. His voice was drowned out by the Jaws of Life, cutting the metal that had my mom trapped in the car. I guessed what had happened and immediately I started to panic with worry. I was scared that my mom was really hurt or worse.
I don’t remember much of the ambulance ride or of the life flight to a second hospital. I guess when you are strapped to a gurney, there isn’t much room to look around and observe your surroundings. When I was rolled into a small room, my family was there. They all gave me a look of relief, seeing that I was mostly covered in small scratches and bruises. The reality of being a victim of a car accident is a little unsettling. You will often drive by a scene, rubber necking. You know that you shouldn’t look upon the scene but it’s hard to turn away. I was in one of those scenes being gawked at by morbidly expectant onlookers.
After a series of x-rays and cat scans, the doctor decided to deem me free to go. My mother was going to remain to heal from the small surgeries.. She had received a massive head gash from the impact. They wanted to make sure that it healed safely so there wouldn’t be any risk of an infection when she was to leave. My mother begged the doctor to let me stay in the room, but they told her repeatedly that I couldn’t because it was against hospital policy to have children stay in the recovery ward. My stepfather, Frank, was home with me. He did not speak to me much when he was home. I often saw him passing strange glances towards me, almost as if he was freaked out by me. I spent most of my time at home sitting in my bedroom stewing over what I could remember of the accident. When I left my room, it was to run to the bathroom or to the kitchen to get something to drink. That was when I came across a manila envelope sitting on the kitchen counter. It was not sealed closed and the lip of the opening lay open. I picked up the envelope and tipped the stacked contents out into my hand. They were photographs of my mothers Chevy, showing the extent of the car’s damages. The insurance company had left it here a few days ago. I began flipping through the pictures, stopping on one that showed the passenger side damage. My door was completed smashed in, far into the passenger seat, where I would have been sitting. The scrapped paint paved a line to the sunroof, showing a trail of gray. Then something caught my eye, shards of glass jetting out around the sunroof’s opening. There was still glass there, but not a lot, and there were traces of red mixed in with the glass. I thought it was open that day, but apparently it wasn’t. No wonder Frank was looking at me funny, he knew..
Part III
There is always that feeling in your gut, a heavy feeling, when you realize a solution that you wish you could avoid. It hides in the background, looking over the crowd of other options that you wish were more viable, constantly reminding you that it is the obvious choice and you know it is but you try to ignore it. There are so many reasons why going in there myself is the best and only option. I am the only person who can end this. I stand next to my end laws, debating with myself, trying to find any holes or problems with me ending the stand-off. At that moment I look over to see Officer Neal stepping out of the command center.
“Excuse me for a second, guys, I am going to go ask Officer Neal a question. I will be back in a sec.” I walk towards the command center, without looking at my in laws. I was afraid that my eyes would give away my intentions.
I knock on the door to the command center, impatiently waiting for a response on the other side. I knock one more time for good measure to make sure that no one was inside. I reach to the handle and it turns, allowing me inside. My eyes scan the room, from the table I was seated at earlier to the closed closets in the back hall. In between there was a counter with an array of radios and gun clips lying on top. I walk over and scan the inventory. My hand reaches down and grabs a black handgun. It is heavier than one might think from watching them in movies. My hand sizzles with anticipation when the hard rubber grip sits in my palm. Next to all of these things is an empty black satchel with a zipper down the middle. Quickly before thinking to much about anything else I could use, I stuff the satchel beneath my under shirt and slide the gun down the waist band of my pants and pull my shirt out so the gun is not visible. I feel its weight pulling my pants down so I protrude my gut out to hold them up. I move to the door to the command center but before I could open the door Officer Neal opens it first and looks at me, startled by my presence.
“Officer Neal.” I start to stumble, but I try to regain my balance to not give myself away. “I was just looking for you; I just wanted to see if you have any news for us.”
“Nothing new yet, we are working on getting their demands met. The only thing you should be doing is being with Kasie’s parents, that’s it. That’s were your most needed. We can handle things here. As soon as we hear of anything, I will let you know.”
He takes my silence as frustration. “Look Keith, I know how you feel right now, I have been there before myself. That is why I chose this job so that I can do something. Your in-laws need you right now. That is where you are needed.” His speech is interrupted by a call on his radio. He turns around and responds to the other person in confusing police jargon. With his back turned to me, I slide past Officer Neal and exit out of the command center. I look ahead at my goal, leering in front of me, the four squad cars lined up in front of the office building. I remove the satchel from under my shirt. I fluff it out a bit to make it look like it contains more than just nothing. Then I start walking to the office building with the satchel at my side and gun on my back.
I stride right past the cops. They all are trying to get me back but when I pass the squad cars, I am beyond reach. Just as I assumed, they were afraid to get any closer. They knew that if they looked like they were going to breach the office; the gun-men would start shooting hostages. They yelled and some cursed at me, but I ignored them and just kept walking to the door.
The door was tented so you could not see inside. On the front were painted in white letters; Family Dental Group, 1-187-555-3673. I reached out and gripped the handle to the door. Its cold steel pierces my through my concentration, reminding me exactly where I am at and what I am doing. There is no turning back now. I open the door and walk inside, ready to stare my destiny in its face.
Part IV
The door quietly closes behind me, blocking out the only bit of natural light from seeping in. The office is different from my last visit. The Doctor who runs the office decided a few months ago to upgrade its appearance to make the office look more modern. He had painted over the beige walls with a deeper burgundy and added pendulum lights to the corners, giving it a soft relaxing glow. Scattered around the office still were the small chairs. They were part wood on the arm rests, and a hounds tooth cushion and back rest. A few remaining patients sat quietly, looking terrified, glanced up at me. None that I could see appeared harmed.
In front of me was the door that leads to the main hall, which contained the many rooms that the staff operated in. The door was closed. To the right of where I was standing was a window that the clerk sits in, sat vacant. The door opened up and out walks a man that I do not recognize. He is wearing a dark blue mechanics jump suit. In his hands he is wielding a sawed off shotgun. He looks at me then turns back into the hall and yells out. “Hey Bucky, guessed who decided to show his face.” His thick southern accent reminded me of that small shit-hole town I grew up in. Something about his accent made me guess that they still live there. Bucky if I remembered right, was the nick name of Steven Cearcy. I am not too sure how he got it; I do remember him having large buck-teeth in school though.
I heard several different foot steps walking to the door. The first face that appeared was of a gunman that I barely recognized. His name was Steven, but not the ‘Bucky’ Steven. This Steven was a squat fellow dressed in a camouflage jumpsuit, no doubt worn for hunting purposes, with a sweaty face that resembled Barney Rubble from the Flintstones. Following in tow was Kasie. Her face was tear-stricken and snot was crusted under her nose. Her tan scrubs were dry but with a few wet spots down the front of her shirt where her tears have fallen. The site of her struck me with a great sadness. I have never seen my wife in that kind of emotional condition.
Following behind my wife was Bucky. He has not changed much in the years since we last seen each other. He has sprouted a few feet since then but he still has that shit eating grin. Seeing his face aggravates me, I could feel my face getting red with hatred. “Well well well, isn’t it Keith Strike. Long time no see boy.” He looks at Kasie and back at me, grinning. “Looks like you did rather well for yourself. She’s rather pretty aint’ she boys?” They all agree in unison.
“Where’s the gun you’re gonna use?” His eyes size me up and down, seeing if I have it hidden. I slowly put my right arm behind my waist and pull the gun out into their view. I showed it to them. Bucky looks at the gun and looks over at the gunman that I don’t know. “Hey Jack-Off, make sure that gun aint no fake.” The gunman takes the gun from me and inspects it. He seems to know his way around guns, because he casually slides back the top of the gun and exposes a chamber with a bullet nestled inside. Then he does something with his hand that makes the clip fall from the handle and into his hand. He shows the full clip to Bucky and slides the clip back into the gun. “Its real, Bucky” He said and roughly hands me the gun.
“Well aint ya gonna do what you came here to do?” Steven asked. “Like I told them cops, if you don’t, I start killing these hostages. Your bitch here will be first in line.”
“Don’t do it Baby. Please don’t do it!” Kasie cries out.
“Shut up bitch!” Belts Barney Rubble Steven as he cocks back his silver revolver and stuck the barrel up against Kasie’s head.
Bucky starts to laugh, showing rows of teeth covered in botched fillings. “Well, is your stupid ass gonna do it? Or do you wanna watch her die?”
“No, don’t hurt her please. I’ll do it.” The weight of the gun seems to increase as I raise it up. I stuck the barrel to my temple. The barrel felt cold and unpleasant and it made my head throb. My eyes traveled to Kasie’s. She was crying. She was repeatedly saying ‘No’ and ‘Don’t’. My finger was on the trigger and I could feel my hand getting sweaty. I took one long look at my wife, whom I loved more than life itself and said. “I love you Kasie.”
Bang….
I call her back from the phone in my cubicle and it barely even rings when she answers on the other end. “Hey Ma!” I have always called her ‘Ma’ since I have known her. She looks like a ‘Ma’ to me.
“Keith, Kasie’s office is being held up, I need you here quick.” I can tell that she is scared because she is crying. Her voice has that hoarseness to it like she has been crying really hard. She managed to hold it down to call me.
“Held up? Like, you mean hostage??” I know what she meant by held up but I wanted to hear it from her first before I made an assumption. Saying that something is held up could have multiple meanings. You see this shit in movies all of the time but you never think it will happen in real life.
“Yes…” She pauses at saying this because she starts crying really hard. I give her a second so I can think about what I should say.
“Its going to be alright, I am on my way.” I say this really shaky because the truth about what is happening starts to set in. I picture a crazy asshole in a ski mask holding a gun to my wife.
“Okay” She hangs up the phone.
I grab my jacket from the back of my swivel chair and head towards the exit of my floor. I pass by my supervisor’s office and poke my head in the door.
“Dude, I gotta jet. There is some shit going down at my wife’s office. I will call you later.” He looks at me with this dumbfounded expression, like someone gave him a gadget that he doesn’t know how to use.
My car is pretty old; I drove it all through college. I commuted from where I lived in Nashville Tennessee to my school in Western Kentucky, so there are quite a lot of miles on the odometer. But even though it was old and up there in mileage, it could still drive faster than any other four cylinders out there. It’s a ’99 Chevy Malibu. Its dark beige paint faded to light champagne.
The Interstate went by in a blur. My sporadic lane changing was upsetting my fellow commuters, who were rapidly honking their horns at me. I was pretty sure that I was averaging about ninety miles per hour. I knew that my speed would get me into trouble but I did not give a rat’s ass about the cops. I just wanted to get to my wife as soon as possible.
I rounded the last corner that turns into my wife’s office’s parking lot. There were already about four cop cars parked outside with the officers walking around in their official hostage situation jackets. There was also a swat bus parked caddy corner at the end of the parking lot. Then I noticed my mother in law’s suburban. She and Kasie’s father were standing outside. Tammy was crying and touching her eyes with a tissue. Tom, Kasie’s father was solemn and worried looking. I seldom see him not acting goofy, so it felt weird walking up towards them.
“What is going on in there? Any updates?” I bet there weren’t but I felt like asking anyways. By the looks on their faces, it’s been a vicious few hours.
Tom was the first to speak. “No, nothin’ yet. We could hear yellin’ in there but we think it was when the negotiator or whatever went in there to talk ‘em down, there are two of ‘em we think”.
I put my arm around my mother in law trying to comfort her even though it was pointless. She was trying her damnedest to hold her shit together. Tom was too. The only time it was a possibility he became emotional was when their dog died a few years back, but it was merely speculation.
An officer started our way holding a radio in his left hand, staring us down as he was walking. It seemed that he was actually looking in my direction rather than my in laws. When he finally approached he looked dead at me. “Are you Keith, Kasie’s husband?”
“Yes, I am, how can I help?” I asked apprehensively. Do the hostage takers know about me? Does the officer think I am involved?
“I am going to need you to come with me.” This worried me a lot. I looked at my in laws with a look of what the hell on my face. But I know the best thing to do is cooperate as much as I can.
I followed the officer up to the swat van at the end of the parking lot. I followed him inside through a small door. The van kind of reminded me of my grandparents’ camper. It has the same smell and has the same kinds of furnishings. Only this had computers, radios and a hell of a lot of guns and swat gear. He sat me down at the small table in the middle of the van. He pulled a manila folder from a stack and opened the folder. In the dead center of the folder was a picture of a man I recognized as an older version of a kid I went to school with. He looked a lot older and worn than I remember.
“Do you know who this is?” He asked me, knowing what the answer was going to be.
“His name is Steven Cearcy; he lived in the town that I grew up in.” This was starting to worry me. Steven and I were not in the least bit friends. He hung out with another boy named Steven. They terrorized our small neighborhood, setting things on fire, hurting our pets and creating havoc where ever they went together. Once they both cornered me after school, attempting to beat me up for no good reason. He was your typical bad seed.
“This man, along with two others you may be familiar with are inside holding your wife and her co workers hostage at gun point. If their demands are not granted then they will start executing hostages. Mr. Strike, they chose this office because of you. They know that your wife works here.”
There is a point when you start becoming angry and things start slowing down. Your face gets red and you want to do nothing but Destroy! Destroy! Destroy! How the hell could these guys know where I lived and who my wife is? I have not seen them since eighth grade. It’s been eighteen years since then.
“There is a problem with their demands.” He looked up at me from the file with a reproachful look as he spoke. “They are demanding five hundred thousand dollars in cash delivered to them in there (pointing at the building with his radio) by you. They want you to hand them the bag and then….and then shoot yourself in front of your wife.” He held is breath for my response, expecting a violent reaction.
I did not know what to say, I was at a loss for words.
There was a problem with their demands…..I am pretty positive that I can not be killed.
It started when I was about eight years old. I was playing in my front yard with my best friend DJ. DJ was a tad crazy. He would always come up with these stupid dares for each other; like I dare you to stand on the seat of your bicycle when moving, or I dare you to ring Mrs. Stanley’s doorbell and run away like hell before she comes to the door. That day he had dared me to climb the tallest tree in my yard, all of the way to the very top.
“Come on, I dare ya, chicken!”
“I’m not a chicken, my stepfather might see and then I will get in trouble.”
“No he wont, he is watching TV in the den.”
“Okay but you better watch for him.”
“Okay I will, just go, I will let you know if I see him.”
I started up the tree. It was a tall oak tree in the front of my house. It must have been there for generations because it was the tallest tree in the neighborhood. I moved as slow as possible, making sure my footing was going to hold and that my grips on the branches would not slip. I felt that if I tried to rush I would fall. I knew as I was moving up that I should not look down, looking down would only make it harder to keep going. At last, I was nearing the top of the tree. The width of the oak was thinning and swaying about more in the autumn breeze. I grappled around the top of the trunk with both of my feet planted on what I hoped with the sturdiest branch at the top. Then I spotted a bee hive on the other side of the trunk, barely visible by a patch of leaves. At first I thought it was empty, maybe the bees moved into another hive that was better suited. I was wrong. They started one by one crawling out of the bottom, in rapid pace. What seemed like a small bee hive housed more bees than one would imagine. They started swarming about with a deafening buzzing sound. I started my way down. I was moving a little too fast but I was in a state of panic. I was supposed to be allergic to bee stings. I have not been stung since I was five; I was unaware of what the effect would be. My ankle got caught on a small middle branch that forked out of a larger branch. My right leg went down while the left stayed behind. I was being forced to do the splits. My footing expired and I lost my grip of the trunk. My body went to the ground head first. I landed at the base of the tree where the trunk stuck out of the ground. DJ went running to get my mother. According to him, it looked like I broke my neck by the way I was sprawled out on the ground. My head was twisted all the way around facing the base of the tree.
They came running out of the house, my mother in a state of unimaginable panic. But when they walked up, I was standing there dusting the dirt off of my clothes. DJ looked at me with eyes bulging and his mouth wide open in utter bewilderment.
“Dude, you okay? You landed on your head and it looked like you broke your neck!”
“I’m fine.” I started massaging the back of my neck. “I do feel a little weird but I think I’m okay.”
I looked at my mom’s face. She was not looking to happy with me. She forbade us to ever climb another tree ever again. If I ever did, she would ground me until the end of existence.
I should have died that day. I should have broken my neck or at least been severely paralyzed. I could not explain what had happened. There were a dozen different experiences just like this all through my life, I was awfully clumsy. Most recently, my body fought off an extremely terrible staph’ infection. I got it from a physical exam when I was twenty-three. The doctor was taking my blood and some how introduced toxins into my system. He became suspicious when it didn’t kill me, so I changed doctors. I never told anyone about any of this, not even my mother.
So where does this leave me? I would do anything to keep my wife safe, but surely it can’t be an option. The policeman said it wouldn’t be. But what if I had no choice? I need to know what the situation looks like. I have an advantage here. If I should go in there and make them think I am dead, even by their hands, I could take them out when their guard is down. That is if they keep their word.
“Officer, what do you need me to do then? I am only concerned with my wife’s safety and the safety of the others too. I will do anything to help.”
“For starters, you need to be with her parents right now. They are really worried and scared for their daughter. They need your company. Let us figure out what to do. Now, go out there and be wi….” The officer’s radio crackled on.
“….Officer Neal, one of the gunmen is on the line and wants to talk to you”
“Excuse me for a second, please.” Officer Neal walked over to a counter behind our small table where a multi-line phone sits with a red light flashing. He reaches down, grabs the phone and pushes one of the buttons before lifting it to his ear.
“This is Officer Neal speaking, whom am I speaking with?”
~~~~~~
“What do you need Steven?”
~~~~~~
“We are trying are best to get that amount for you…it is going to take more time.”
~~~~~~
“Please Steven; don’t do anything you will regret. We are making things happen for you but it is going to take more time.”
~~~~~~
“I understand, don’t worry... I will contact you as soon as the funds are available.”
He hung up the phone. “To be honest with you, this son of a bitch is playing hardball with us. He is asking for a lot of money in a short amount of time and I am doing my best dealing with him but I am getting close to my wits end. You are not going in there, period so don’t worry about that. Okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” I said solemnly. “Whatever you need me to do let me know”
I stepped out of the mobile command center and walked over to my wife’s parents. They were looking at me with this strange look, almost of suspicion. This situation was getting worse fast and I need to think of something and fast or I may lose the love of my life.
“Officer Neal let me in on who those guys are. One of them knows me; I think he is the leader of their group or something. He knows me from middle school and Officer Neal believes that they chose Kasie’s office because of me.” The anger, worry and scared feeling were hitting me all at once. I started to lose control and cry. “He has some grudge against me and I don’t know why. I never did a mean thing to anyone when I was a kid. I swear to God if he touches a hair on her head, I will rip his damn throat out.
My mother-in-law grabs my arm with a soft loving force. She looked at me so lovingly that it made it difficult not to cry even harder. “You know that Tom and I don’t place any blame on you for this, right? This is not your fault and you have no control over this. We will get through this; we just need to ask to God to watch over Kasie. We love you Keith.” Tom nodded in agreement to what Tammy said. I love Tom and Tammy, not just because they are Kasie’s mother and father, but because they treat me like I am their son.
Part II
Car accident on Robertsfield Highway leaves two seriously injured.
The Corner of Apple Street and Robertsfield Highway was the scene of a severe car accident involving a small car and a large pickup truck. The driver of the truck reportedly drove through a stop sign and struck the small car on the passenger side. The driver of the truck was not injured but the two in the smaller car were transported via life-flight to Vanderbilt Hospital. The two injured are local residents of Robertsfield, Tanya Black and her ten year old son Keith Strike who is a Robertsfield Elementary School student. They still remain in intensive care under close watch.
That was the closest anyone has ever come to discovering my secret. The car my mother was driving was beyond totaled. It was a small Chevy Cavalier with a sun roof. I loved riding in that car because it had FM radio, so I could listen to Nashville’s rock stations. The truck that hit us was rather large. It was one of those heavy duty work trucks with four rear wheels. It had to have been moving at least forty miles per hour. My mother’s car never stood a chance against that beast of a truck. The truck hit the Cavalier’s passenger side door, making it flip over. My seat belt was not fastened so when it rolled, I was thrown through the open sun roof. Supposedly the car rolled back on top of my legs but I had blacked out so I don’t remember any of the accident. I came to and there was someone leaning over me attempting to calm me down. His voice was drowned out by the Jaws of Life, cutting the metal that had my mom trapped in the car. I guessed what had happened and immediately I started to panic with worry. I was scared that my mom was really hurt or worse.
I don’t remember much of the ambulance ride or of the life flight to a second hospital. I guess when you are strapped to a gurney, there isn’t much room to look around and observe your surroundings. When I was rolled into a small room, my family was there. They all gave me a look of relief, seeing that I was mostly covered in small scratches and bruises. The reality of being a victim of a car accident is a little unsettling. You will often drive by a scene, rubber necking. You know that you shouldn’t look upon the scene but it’s hard to turn away. I was in one of those scenes being gawked at by morbidly expectant onlookers.
After a series of x-rays and cat scans, the doctor decided to deem me free to go. My mother was going to remain to heal from the small surgeries.. She had received a massive head gash from the impact. They wanted to make sure that it healed safely so there wouldn’t be any risk of an infection when she was to leave. My mother begged the doctor to let me stay in the room, but they told her repeatedly that I couldn’t because it was against hospital policy to have children stay in the recovery ward. My stepfather, Frank, was home with me. He did not speak to me much when he was home. I often saw him passing strange glances towards me, almost as if he was freaked out by me. I spent most of my time at home sitting in my bedroom stewing over what I could remember of the accident. When I left my room, it was to run to the bathroom or to the kitchen to get something to drink. That was when I came across a manila envelope sitting on the kitchen counter. It was not sealed closed and the lip of the opening lay open. I picked up the envelope and tipped the stacked contents out into my hand. They were photographs of my mothers Chevy, showing the extent of the car’s damages. The insurance company had left it here a few days ago. I began flipping through the pictures, stopping on one that showed the passenger side damage. My door was completed smashed in, far into the passenger seat, where I would have been sitting. The scrapped paint paved a line to the sunroof, showing a trail of gray. Then something caught my eye, shards of glass jetting out around the sunroof’s opening. There was still glass there, but not a lot, and there were traces of red mixed in with the glass. I thought it was open that day, but apparently it wasn’t. No wonder Frank was looking at me funny, he knew..
Part III
There is always that feeling in your gut, a heavy feeling, when you realize a solution that you wish you could avoid. It hides in the background, looking over the crowd of other options that you wish were more viable, constantly reminding you that it is the obvious choice and you know it is but you try to ignore it. There are so many reasons why going in there myself is the best and only option. I am the only person who can end this. I stand next to my end laws, debating with myself, trying to find any holes or problems with me ending the stand-off. At that moment I look over to see Officer Neal stepping out of the command center.
“Excuse me for a second, guys, I am going to go ask Officer Neal a question. I will be back in a sec.” I walk towards the command center, without looking at my in laws. I was afraid that my eyes would give away my intentions.
I knock on the door to the command center, impatiently waiting for a response on the other side. I knock one more time for good measure to make sure that no one was inside. I reach to the handle and it turns, allowing me inside. My eyes scan the room, from the table I was seated at earlier to the closed closets in the back hall. In between there was a counter with an array of radios and gun clips lying on top. I walk over and scan the inventory. My hand reaches down and grabs a black handgun. It is heavier than one might think from watching them in movies. My hand sizzles with anticipation when the hard rubber grip sits in my palm. Next to all of these things is an empty black satchel with a zipper down the middle. Quickly before thinking to much about anything else I could use, I stuff the satchel beneath my under shirt and slide the gun down the waist band of my pants and pull my shirt out so the gun is not visible. I feel its weight pulling my pants down so I protrude my gut out to hold them up. I move to the door to the command center but before I could open the door Officer Neal opens it first and looks at me, startled by my presence.
“Officer Neal.” I start to stumble, but I try to regain my balance to not give myself away. “I was just looking for you; I just wanted to see if you have any news for us.”
“Nothing new yet, we are working on getting their demands met. The only thing you should be doing is being with Kasie’s parents, that’s it. That’s were your most needed. We can handle things here. As soon as we hear of anything, I will let you know.”
He takes my silence as frustration. “Look Keith, I know how you feel right now, I have been there before myself. That is why I chose this job so that I can do something. Your in-laws need you right now. That is where you are needed.” His speech is interrupted by a call on his radio. He turns around and responds to the other person in confusing police jargon. With his back turned to me, I slide past Officer Neal and exit out of the command center. I look ahead at my goal, leering in front of me, the four squad cars lined up in front of the office building. I remove the satchel from under my shirt. I fluff it out a bit to make it look like it contains more than just nothing. Then I start walking to the office building with the satchel at my side and gun on my back.
I stride right past the cops. They all are trying to get me back but when I pass the squad cars, I am beyond reach. Just as I assumed, they were afraid to get any closer. They knew that if they looked like they were going to breach the office; the gun-men would start shooting hostages. They yelled and some cursed at me, but I ignored them and just kept walking to the door.
The door was tented so you could not see inside. On the front were painted in white letters; Family Dental Group, 1-187-555-3673. I reached out and gripped the handle to the door. Its cold steel pierces my through my concentration, reminding me exactly where I am at and what I am doing. There is no turning back now. I open the door and walk inside, ready to stare my destiny in its face.
Part IV
The door quietly closes behind me, blocking out the only bit of natural light from seeping in. The office is different from my last visit. The Doctor who runs the office decided a few months ago to upgrade its appearance to make the office look more modern. He had painted over the beige walls with a deeper burgundy and added pendulum lights to the corners, giving it a soft relaxing glow. Scattered around the office still were the small chairs. They were part wood on the arm rests, and a hounds tooth cushion and back rest. A few remaining patients sat quietly, looking terrified, glanced up at me. None that I could see appeared harmed.
In front of me was the door that leads to the main hall, which contained the many rooms that the staff operated in. The door was closed. To the right of where I was standing was a window that the clerk sits in, sat vacant. The door opened up and out walks a man that I do not recognize. He is wearing a dark blue mechanics jump suit. In his hands he is wielding a sawed off shotgun. He looks at me then turns back into the hall and yells out. “Hey Bucky, guessed who decided to show his face.” His thick southern accent reminded me of that small shit-hole town I grew up in. Something about his accent made me guess that they still live there. Bucky if I remembered right, was the nick name of Steven Cearcy. I am not too sure how he got it; I do remember him having large buck-teeth in school though.
I heard several different foot steps walking to the door. The first face that appeared was of a gunman that I barely recognized. His name was Steven, but not the ‘Bucky’ Steven. This Steven was a squat fellow dressed in a camouflage jumpsuit, no doubt worn for hunting purposes, with a sweaty face that resembled Barney Rubble from the Flintstones. Following in tow was Kasie. Her face was tear-stricken and snot was crusted under her nose. Her tan scrubs were dry but with a few wet spots down the front of her shirt where her tears have fallen. The site of her struck me with a great sadness. I have never seen my wife in that kind of emotional condition.
Following behind my wife was Bucky. He has not changed much in the years since we last seen each other. He has sprouted a few feet since then but he still has that shit eating grin. Seeing his face aggravates me, I could feel my face getting red with hatred. “Well well well, isn’t it Keith Strike. Long time no see boy.” He looks at Kasie and back at me, grinning. “Looks like you did rather well for yourself. She’s rather pretty aint’ she boys?” They all agree in unison.
“Where’s the gun you’re gonna use?” His eyes size me up and down, seeing if I have it hidden. I slowly put my right arm behind my waist and pull the gun out into their view. I showed it to them. Bucky looks at the gun and looks over at the gunman that I don’t know. “Hey Jack-Off, make sure that gun aint no fake.” The gunman takes the gun from me and inspects it. He seems to know his way around guns, because he casually slides back the top of the gun and exposes a chamber with a bullet nestled inside. Then he does something with his hand that makes the clip fall from the handle and into his hand. He shows the full clip to Bucky and slides the clip back into the gun. “Its real, Bucky” He said and roughly hands me the gun.
“Well aint ya gonna do what you came here to do?” Steven asked. “Like I told them cops, if you don’t, I start killing these hostages. Your bitch here will be first in line.”
“Don’t do it Baby. Please don’t do it!” Kasie cries out.
“Shut up bitch!” Belts Barney Rubble Steven as he cocks back his silver revolver and stuck the barrel up against Kasie’s head.
Bucky starts to laugh, showing rows of teeth covered in botched fillings. “Well, is your stupid ass gonna do it? Or do you wanna watch her die?”
“No, don’t hurt her please. I’ll do it.” The weight of the gun seems to increase as I raise it up. I stuck the barrel to my temple. The barrel felt cold and unpleasant and it made my head throb. My eyes traveled to Kasie’s. She was crying. She was repeatedly saying ‘No’ and ‘Don’t’. My finger was on the trigger and I could feel my hand getting sweaty. I took one long look at my wife, whom I loved more than life itself and said. “I love you Kasie.”
Bang….
So it begins.......
So I have decided to start writing stuff. I am not sure how this will turn out but I have a lot of ideas in my head that need to come out. I am open to critisism so feel free to let me have it. I have one completed story that I would love to have some feedback on. I am working on another.
Cheers
Jeremy
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