The Death Run (A Short Story) (2 page)

“I’m telling you, Frank, I’m worried. He disappears for hours at a time, and now he’s pasting clippings about Danny into a book. I think he’s depressed.”

Frank continued measuring the feed, kept his eyes on his livestock and off his ex-wife. Anybody’d be depressed living with her.

Ah, to say what you really wanted to say …

“Look, Mary, I think you’re overreacting. Sure, it’s been rough on him to be back here, without work. He hasn’t really had friends since Danny died. Don’t surprise me none that he’d take it hard right now. But he’ll be fine. He’s just got to work through it himself. Things’ll turn around. They always do.”

“He’s a sensitive boy, Frank. What was he thinking, studying to be a social worker? He’s not Corey.”

With that, Frank’s head snapped up sharply and he glared at her. “I’m surprised you know that.”

“Off my bloody rocker, coming to you about this,” she muttered.

Mary started to stomp off, but Frank guessed she couldn’t really give off the attitude she was after with her back turned and her shoes sticking in the mud. Frank watched her dodge the puddles and get her foot stuck in a deep one. She yanked furiously and her foot came out of the boot, and then Mary fell on her side on the muddy drive.

He smiled. It’d almost been worth listening to her just to see that.

It was a moonless night. Colin warmed his hands by the fire, and calculated again how much beer he’d bought, and whether it would be enough.

The hangout was equipped with a run-down shack, a fire pit, a few tables, some chairs. And then there was the chute, although most people didn’t know about it.

Something Colin was happy to keep quiet about, now more than ever.

He glanced at his watch. As if on cue, Judd’s pickup truck bumped over the old road, grinding its way up the last of the hill. Colin moved to the picnic table and popped the lids off the beers.

“Nice,” Graeme said as he looked around the camp. “I’d forgotten about this place. You come up here much?”

Colin passed Terry a beer, while Judd pulled up a lawn chair. “Not as much as I used to. But you can see the whole town from here.” He pointed down past the trees to town center, where the lights of the gas station and Co-op glimmered in the distance. “Corey, Danny, and I used to come up here an’ watch the fireworks.”

All three of them took a long drink. To Colin, the silence felt awkward, and Judd finally broke it. “Danny. Gee, what’s it been? Five years?”

Colin raised his bottle. “To Danny.”

All three were still focused on the fire, so Colin could watch them openly as they lifted their beers and drank. They drank in silence, a quiet interrupted only by the occasional crackle of the fire or hoot of an owl.

It wasn’t long before Colin was popping the tops off more beers, and the tension had passed.

“Think Corey’ll give us a fix on the games?” Graeme asked. “We could pocket a bundle on betting. Cut him in, of course.”

Colin shrugged. “You think they rig the games?”

“Friggin’ Olympics are all rigged.” Terry belched. “You can’t tell me that the …”

“Enough already, Terr. You’re startin’ to sound like your ma,” Judd muttered. “Hey Col, what did you guys do for fun when you came up here?”

“Rode scooters full steam down the hill.”

“Schooters?” Graeme’s eyes refused to focus as he tried to look at Colin.

“Well, bodyboards, really. With wheels so you could lie on your stomach. Just you, the board, the hill, no brake.” He didn’t mention the chute, or the hill they’d built at the bottom to slow them down.

In ten years, nobody had found the chute as far as he knew, and he was OK with keeping it that way.

The whites of Judd’s eyes were enormous. “Really? Didn’t scare the crap right out of you? Is that why you’re so skinny?”

Judd laughed, and Graeme and Terry laughed too. Colin let them have their moment.

Might just be there wouldn’t be many more moments to have.

“Nah, not really,” Colin said. “You time it right, you hit both greens on the main block, sail right on down Jasper Hill.”

“No kiddin’.” Judd wiped his sleeve across his mouth. “Bet that’s one helluva ride.”

Colin nodded and went for more beers.

The special brew.

“You think we could do it?” Judd asked.

“Just make sure you don’t hit the night train,” Graeme said.

Colin cursed silently. Leave it to Graeme to remember that. The night train was the nickname for a convoy; a run of semis that barreled through town each night.

“What time’s it now?” Judd asked.

Colin glanced at his watch. “Twenty to.”

“We’s good.” Judd stood up and almost fell straight back down in his chair. He wheeled his arms back in circles for a few seconds until he’d steadied himself. “C’mon boys, whaddya say?”

“Dunno,” Graeme said.

“Pussy,” Judd said, sneering.

Terry was on his feet, swaying behind Judd.

Graeme gave one lopsided look at Colin before staggering after them.

It was so still and calm, it crossed his mind that he could just stay there for a while. There was a decent fire, and the night was clear. He could stretch out on the chairs, just forget this damn town and his damn dreams.

Colin shook his head. No. It was time to finish what he’d started. Here, where he’d spent his wasted childhood with Corey and Danny, it was all a little too real, as though he could step back through time and see them building the shed, watching the fireworks, sanding the scooters. No, the ghosts were too close, closer than in his dreams.

He cleaned up any traces that he’d been there, and took a long look at the sight that had so many memories.

After a minute, he turned his back on the hangout for the last time.

At first, the sound was muffled, like someone drumming in the distance; then, the sound became much clearer, sharper, and there were shouts along with the banging.

“Mary? Jesus woman, open up, will you?” The pounding got louder. Colin could hear it in his bedroom. He could hear Mother, scurrying down the hall, and the sound of the door creaking open.

From the crack in his door, Colin could see that Mother cursed when she saw her ex-husband. “What the hell do you want?”

“There’s been an accident. Judd O’Neal’s truck. They’re saying he was with Colin earlier, up on East Ridge.”

Dad pushed past Mom, and as she turned to the side, Colin could see all the blood drain out of her face. The faded pink salmon look had been replaced by a stark white.

“East Ridge?” Her voice was quiet. Oddly calm.

Dad grabbed her shoulders. “Is Colin here? They can’t get into the mess yet to tell.”

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. Five years. Eagle Ridge. Oh my God.”

The look on her face was unlike anything Colin had ever seen before. She seemed to be wilting before his eyes.

“Shit woman, you’re useless.”

Colin made his retreat. That was the thing about being the invisible child; they were so caught up in their panic that they hadn’t even looked down the hall to see him standing in the darkness, watching.

The covers had settled over his head before the light went on.

“Colin? Colin?”

He felt hands shaking him, and winced at the light as the comforter was peeled off his face.

“What?”

“Christ, Colin. You could answer him,” Mother said.

Colin looked over at her, hanging on to the door frame as she stared at him from across the room.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

As though he didn’t know.

“What’s going …” Mother looked at him, then at Dad, and then slid to the floor.

Colin half expected his dad to just step over her and leave, but instead he stopped next to her.

“Give me a hand, eh?”

Colin obeyed wordlessly. They lifted his mother off the floor and set her up on the couch in the other room. Colin went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He let the silence linger while the coffee brewed and returned to the living room with cups ready.

“What’s going on?” Colin asked again, once his mother was finally able to hold her cup steady.

“O’Neal boy’s truck went flying down the hill from East Ridge, just as the midnight run was heading out of town.”

Dad paused, and looked at Mom, who set her coffee down.

“Sliced the top of the cab right off,” Dad said.

Wince. How do you wince?
Colin went for a shocked silence instead. When he thought it had been long enough, he sank down into a chair. “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here,” Colin said.

Dad shrugged. He almost seemed to be embarrassed now that he knew Colin was safe.

“Heard from Officer Scott myself. He said you’d been up on the Ridge, drinking with O’Neal.” Dad glanced at Mother. “They uh, can’t make any positive, you know. Can’t say who it was until they, uh, find what’s missing.”

“They can’t even …” Mother’s voice was shaky, so low Colin could hardly hear her.

“C’mon, Mom. Why don’t you go back to bed? You’re off tomorrow; you can just sleep in and rest.”

For once, Mother didn’t argue with anyone. Colin led her down the hall to her bed, and once she’d pulled the covers back and her hand had slid from his, he walked out of the room and shut the door quietly.

“Hey, Frank.” Officer Scott extended his hand. He nodded at Colin as he shook hands with Frank. “Glad to see you’re OK.”

Colin stared at the scene that was spread across Main and Jasper Hill. Fire, ambulance, and police crews were moving in every direction, while lights from the vehicles reflected off the St. James Anglican Church sign, where service times were listed under the bold heading
Jesus Saves
. The steady rhythm of the lights had a hypnotic effect, like Colin imagined the rhythm of the sea would have. As long as his eyes were on the lights, they weren’t on the scene unfolding around him.

Horrific. Gristly. Tragic. Colin could imagine the media using all those labels, and more, to describe the scene unfolding in this quiet little town where nothing happened.

“Colin. You with us?” Dad snapped his fingers in front of Colin’s face.

“Huh? What?” Colin looked from his dad to Officer Scott and blinked. “Did you say something?”

“I know it’s pretty grim. Why don’t you come with me for a coffee?” Officer Scott asked if Colin was up to answering a few questions, but he gripped Colin’s shoulder in a way that made it clear it wasn’t a suggestion or, really, an option.