From A Dead Sleep

CHAPTER 2

Chapter 2 Breath was in short supply as Sean’s feet fumbled briskly along the rocky edge of the river. He tried his best to keep his eyes on the black blob he’d thought he saw momentarily bobbing up and down as it shot downstream.

Thick pine branches smacked against his face, and his ankles repeatedly buckled under the weight of his body as he negotiated round, wet rocks and overturned foliage. He could taste sap on his lips. More than once his legs dipped down into freezing cold water, which drenched his pants. Yet, none of nature’s obstacles hindered resolve.

Sean himself couldn’t say where his persistence and motivation were coming from, but the helplessness he had felt while kneeling at the top of the bridge did not sit well. His heart wouldn’t let him give up. Anger encompassed him as he briskly lumbered alongside the water. The anger stewed from his failure to recognize, until it was too late, what was transpiring right before him. He also felt intense guilt over the effect his poor decision from the night before was having on his body. If his head was just a little clearer, and his legs had moved just a little faster, maybe he would have been able to stop the stranger. Then again, if he wouldn’t have gotten drunk, he wouldn’t have been there in the first place. Perhaps he was being too hard on himself.

After a few more seconds, and one last possible appearance of the bubbled-up coat, Sean lost all traces of the stranger. The water was moving too fast. The body was gone.

He stopped and dropped to his knees, refusing to take his eyes off of the river. All was eerily tranquil again. A light breeze; birds singing. It was as if nothing had ever happened.

Minutes later, his side cramped with ferocity as he strove to keep up a jogging pace. A dry belch bellowed from deep within his stomach and he tasted hours-old alcohol in his mouth. His ankle ached from twisting on a rock along the river’s edge. Still, even through straining muscles and painful panting, he lumbered his way steadily down on the dirt and gravel of County Road 2, headed toward town. Dense beads of sweat poured down the sides of his face. His drenched hair shone. Images of the horrific scene from the bridge were still fresh in his head, and the scent of a gun being fired still lingered in his nose. They all took a momentary backseat to the thoughts of what reaction he would face from the town’s authorities.

Sean had a very complicated relationship with the chief of police, Gary Lumbergh. The two were engaged in what could best be described as a rivalry that was a secret to no one. In fact, it was often the local talk amongst the citizens of Winston, where gossip was as common as the fields of purple and white columbines that decorated the surrounding landscape.

He dreaded the thought of another encounter—especially one that would surely leak to the public—but he knew he hadn’t a choice.

His heavy breathing and pounding feet hindered Sean from hearing the rattling frame and purring engine of the old, red pickup truck that approached him from behind at a snail’s pace.

“Hey, Sean!” a gravelly voice sounded out, causing Sean’s head to quickly spin.

The view of old Milo Coltraine’s gray-bearded face, hanging outside the window of his 1972 Chevy pickup, was a welcome sight. Sean came to a relieved halt and doubled over to suck in air. His hamstrings ached, and his throat felt raw. With his chest mightily expanding and contracting, he scurried up to the driver’s side door, his hand clutched at his side. He hadn’t the energy for a drawn- out explanation of what had happened at the bridge, but Milo was certainly eager to talk.

“I hear Moses Jones gave ya quite a spankin’ last night!” Milo hollered, following up with his trademark obnoxious laugh that resembled more of a howl.

The wide suede cowboy hat he always wore made Milo look like an old gold prospector from another era. At the same time, his weathered skin and the space at the center of his crooked teeth invited comparisons to a desert lizard.

Without wasting another second, Sean’s large hand latched onto the outside handle and quickly yanked the truck’s driver side door open. Milo’s eyes bulged in surprise and his laugh disappeared, not expecting such an intrusion.

“Move aside, Coltraine!” Sean snarled before shoving his open hand firmly into Milo’s shoulder.

“Hey!” Milo screamed, his voice reaching even a higher pitch as Sean shoved him effortlessly across the bench seat.

Milo was a very short, top-heavy man with little coordination. His legs kicked wildly in the air as he struggled to keep from being knocked to his back.

“What in the hell are ya doin’, boy?”

The truck never even came to a stop. It coasted slowly as Sean lifted himself up into the driver’s seat with a hardening grunt. The door closed behind him.

“Sean! Dammit!” Milo yelled, after managing to lean forward enough to latch his frail and freckled fingers onto Sean’s wrist.

Sean effortlessly shook his arm free and stomped his foot down on the gas pedal. The sudden jolt of acceleration forced Milo’s body to sink deep into his seat. Sean’s legs barely fit around the steering wheel, and his knees dug into the dashboard. He felt like a canned sardine and quickly grabbed a side lever above the floorboard and yanked on it to slide the bench seat back.

“Jesus, Milo! How short are you?” Sean grumbled more in the form of an accusation than a question.

A cardboard air freshener, shaped like a pine tree but having long ago lost its scent, swung from the rearview mirror as wind and dust filled the car through the open window. Two empty boxes of cheap cigarettes fell off the dashboard and onto Sean’s lap.

“I ain’t playin’ ‘round!” Milo threatened after finally managing to sit up straight. “Pull over and get outta my truck!”

Milo’s breath smelled strongly of corn chips, which was confirmed by the handful of crumpled-up Big Grab Fritos bags wedged into the middle of the seat cushion.

“I’m not playing neither!” Sean barked without taking his eyes off the road. “Listen to me! A man just died! I need to get into town and tell Lumbergh!”

Milo didn’t immediately respond, taking a moment to let Sean’s claim bounce around the walls of his head. “Whatcha’ talkin’ about, A man just died? What man?”

“Back at Meyers Bridge! Just now! He shot himself!”

Milo hesitated again before responding, glaring suspiciously at the side of Sean’s face.

“Are you shittin’ me, boy? There’s a dead fella at Meyers Bridge?”

“Yes! I mean . . . No! He jumped into the river!”

Sean couldn’t verbalize a coherent explanation and had little patience to. He was out of breath, his heart was racing, and his primary concern was reaching town.

Milo, however, wasn’t about to let Sean off the hook with such a cryptic statement. He grabbed his shoulder and used his other hand to point an accusatory finger.

“Ya said he shot himself! Then ya said he jumped inta’ the river! This story smells like horse-s**t ta’ me!”

Sean’s head shook in frustration while a sour scowl twisted across his lips.

The truck tore around a sharp corner and onto the paved road of Main Street, leaving behind it a wide cloud of dust. Sean scratched the back of his head with one hand, causing small flakes of dried skin to drop to his shirt collar. His other hand stayed tightly glued to the steering wheel.

“Milo! I just . . . I don’t have time for your s**t right now!”

Milo didn’t take kindly to the words. “Oh! Oh! I’m so sorry! Ya stole ma’ truck! Whatcha think Lumbergh’s gonna say about that? Huh?”

“Milo . . . I don’t give a s**t what Lumbergh says! When I’m done talking to him, you can tell him your whole life story. For now, just sit there and shut up!” Sean’s head turned toward the old man for the first time, and a frightening glare finally earned compliance.

Milo was visually furious, but the look in Sean’s eye scared the old man. Sean had a reputation for being a loose cannon, and Milo knew better than to light the fuse. He sat back in his seat and folded his arms in front of him, shaking his head in disapproval.

The engine roared louder as Sean picked up speed. Main Street was a straightaway right into town.

Peering at Sean from the corner of his eye, Milo spoke in a less fiery tone. “Ya know . . . All ya had ta’ do was ask, and I’d a given ya a ride ta’ town.”

“Milo . . . No offense, but I could have jogged to town faster than if I’d have let you drive.”