Washed Away

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A car whizzed by, spraying a blotchy mist of puddled rain water.  Night cloaked me in shadows, making me undistinguishable against the midnight calm.  My skin was as dark as coal and my clothes weren’t exactly made for twilight jogging.  I was probably hard to see, what with my black jeans, black hoodie, and green vest that bounced with each step under the weight of the piece in my pocket.

 

It was burning a hole in my pocket; my gun.  It was heavier than usual, despite the fact that it was missing a few rounds from the clip.  My palm still stung from the aftershock of each squeeze of the trigger only a few minutes ago.  My heart hammered furiously, as if compensating for the heart that was no longer beating.  I stopped running a few blocks back so not to arouse any suspicion.

 

I was in Old Town among the decrepit decay of a once flourishing neighborhood.  Graffiti seemed to be etched into the brick and concrete.  Buildings were now vibrant symbols of disease thanks to their spray-painted tattoos.  Rotting furniture, trampled garbage, and the occasional stray cat littered the sidewalks and empty lots I hurried past.  The bitter metallic stench of a bubbling meth lab seeped from the edges of a boarded window of the nearest abandoned dwelling.

 

The sirens wailed far behind me, especially thanks to the distance I’ve put between me and the scene of the crime. I need a ride.  I need to get away faster than on foot because they’ll be looking for me.  Headlights from an oncoming car blinded me for a second so I kept my eyes on my waterlogged boots.  I couldn't tell if it was a patrol car or not, so I ducked.  The wind pushed against me as if trying to lead me somewhere.

 

I grabbed my cell phone, dialed Crane, but got no answer.  I ended the call when his voicemail picked up then sent him a text.  "Call me."  The battery icon in the corner of my phone was drained and flashing red.  I sighed heavily, cramming the device back in my pocket, where it would most likely die a peaceful death.

 

I could smell the rain before it came, making me quicken my pace, but it was too late.  The masked clouds started dripping on me, at first just in sprinkles then harder, almost blindingly so.  I hung my head as more sirens called my name in the distance.  It was now an outright down pour soaking me to the bone.  I looked behind me.  I couldn’t see any lights on the road, but the sound of the police cars seemed to be approaching.

 

A clap of thunder rocked through me as I picked up to a run, hugging the shadows and avoiding the murky street lights.  Rain drops beaded down my face.  A pair of headlights hit my back, illuminating the ground in front of me, curving around my own eerie shadow, which somewhat resembled Death himself.

 

“Hey man,” I heard a voice shout through the down pour.  “Hey!”

 

I looked over my shoulder, pausing for a moment.  A silver Ford Taurus had pulled along the shoulder with its passenger window down.  A Mr. Rodgers-look-alike leaned over from the driver’s side, calling to me throught the open window.  “Hey buddy, need a lift?”

 

I could barely make out his words with the pelting rain beating down on the world around me, filling my ears with a cacophony of plunks and natural white noise.  I told myself to keep running.  I didn’t know this guy.  Why would he stop from some thug trampling around in a rain storm?  What was his deal?

 

“Hey, did you hear me?” he called louder.  “You want a ride or not?”

 

“Nah man,” I waved him off, continuing to make my way down the sidewalk.

 

“You’re gonna drown if you’re not careful,” the man persisted, gently moving the car forward at my pace.  “Come on.  It’s not a problem.  You’re going to catch pneumonia out there and I have to, in good conscious, offer you a warm ride.”

 

I stopped again.  “I don’t get it man, what you want?”

“Just to help you out, partner.  It’s really coming down out there.”

 

The angel was rooting for the stranger with the offer of a safe, comfy ride out of the city while the devil was coaxing me to trudge on in the rain, solitude, and darkness.  Both shoulder-riders seemed to be steering me towards two completely different traps.  I had to choose the lesser of two evils and, at the moment, the warmer, drier route seemed the best.

 

As soon as I closed the door, I regretted getting in.  First of all, I was soaked and dripping all over this man’s leather upholstery, and secondly because I heard the hushed melody of old school honkey tonk.  Though it was indeed warmer in here, I was already getting colder because of my saturated clothes.  I pushed my trembling hands towards the vents on the dash as the man drove on.

 

“So, where’re you headed?” the stranger asked.

 

“The Grove,” I replied quickly.  I tried to spy on him out of the corner of my eye.  A long-sleeved sweater over a crisp-collared button up.  A gold band wrapped around an uncalloused knuckle.  Even his well manicured finger nails showed no signs of manual labor.

 

“You’re quite a ways away.  It’s a good thing you jumped in.  What are you doing out in this weather?”

 

I didn’t feel particularly talkative.  “I ain’t got no ride.  ‘Preciate dis, man.”

 

“Like I said, it’s not a problem.” 

 

The car moved at a snail’s pace.  It could’ve been because of the curtain of rain smashing down on the windshield.  It could also be that the stranger is an inherently slow driver.  There are plenty of those around and this man could be one of them.  Given the fact that the stranger seemed unaffected by the impeding weather and was lounging in his seat, I was going to say our speed was thanks to the latter.

 

“I’m Dave,” the stranger said.

 

I hesitated.  How much information should I give this Dave?  I hadn’t taken my hood off and the car was dark, so I was sure he hadn’t gotten a good look at my face.  He may not even be able to identify me in a line-up or my mug, should it end up on TV.  Despite that, I should be as vague as possible.  This joker might not be done with his line of questioning and he might find it more suspicious if I’m completely intolerant of his conversation rather than being short with him.

 

“Ty,” I lied, giving him a false introduction.

 

“Good to meet you, Ty.”  The dashboard light illuminated Dave’s weak smile.  There were only a few short moments of silence before he sparked up again.  “Do you live in the Grove?”

 

“Nah, just headed to a buddy’s place.”

 

My body stiffened as the blinking cherries of a police car came towards us.  I watched intently as the police vehicle sped pass Dave’s Taurus without slowing.

 

Dave noticed my interest in the car.  With my eyes pointing out his driver’s side window, he looked in my direction and our eyes met.  My jaw tightened at the sight of his unsettling gaze.  It was piercing with a tepid glaze and lagging lids.  In my mind, those eyes, that look knew the officer was heading towards the crime scene I had created.  In my mind, Dave knew my lies, knew the truth, had it all figured out.

 

I was paranoid.  Dave didn’t know me.  He didn’t know where I came from or where I was actually going.  He didn’t know what I had done.  I had to calm down or I would give myself away.  Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to loosen up.

 

Dave’s eyes were now in his rearview mirror watching the blue and red lights turn onto a side street, heading the direction I had just come.  “Must’ve been an accident somewhere,” Dave noted passively.

 

I nodded, still slowly rubbing my palms together.  Dave noticed my struggle to generate warmth and cranked the heat up.  “Thanks, man,” I mumbled, instantly relishing in the warmth.

 

“No problem.” Another lull of silence.  “What were you doing out tonight?  I mean, had you planned on walking all the way to the Grove?”

 

“Yah, didn’t know it was gonna rain, though,” I replied, sticking to my plan of being responsive, selectively so.

 

“You don’t have a car?”

 

“Yah, just not wit me.  I lent it to someone.”

 

“And your buddy, the one you’re going to meet, he couldn’t pick you up?”

“He ain’t got no car.  It’s no big thing.  Can’t count on nobody but myself.”

 

Dave exaggerated a few nods.  “I’d have to completely agree with you there, Ty.  If you want something, you’ve got to go get it yourself.  You can’t rely on someone else to do it for you.  I can appreciate that statement.”

 

 I nodded.  My phone vibrated in my pocket.  I pulled it out just enough to read the text that just came in.  It was Crane.  “Where R U?”  I ignored the text and stuffed the phone back into my pocket.  I’d be there soon enough, plus I didn't want to kill my phone.

 

“That’s how I got where I am now,” Dave went on.  “You see, growing up, it was just me and my mother.  I did a lot of fending for myself.  My father left when I was young, got another family, and never really cared for my mother and me.  So, if I wanted something, I couldn’t count on my dad to get it for me.  Sometimes, I couldn’t even count on my mother, who was working her ass off just to keep the lights on, and really wasn’t there for me.  Whatever I wanted, I had to go get it for myself.  I had a job as soon as someone would pay me.  Got a degree on my own, got a career on my own, and started a family.  There wasn’t anyone to teach me how to do all of that or hand it to me.  I went out and got it for myself.  Do you have family, Ty?  Kids of your own?”

 

“Nah,” I lied again.

 

“Well, what are you, in your twenties?”

 

I nodded.  “Twenty-three.”

 

“Yeah, you’re just a pup still.  Not quite old enough to start a family, I suppose.”

 

Little did he know I already had two babies.  On top of that, I had an education and grew up in a pretty decent household.  Hard times led me from the straight and narrow and forced me to do some things I hadn't ever considering doing before.  I chose to alter my speech to match my new and unfortunate lifestyle.  I was doing what I needed to do to get my life back on track.  In any other situation, the comment he just made would have straight pissed me off.

 

I couldn’t let it bother me, though.  I had to let it fly since this man had been a gracious host and picked up a thug off the side of the road.  Really, if you looked at the present situation, Dave was an idiot for even considering giving me a ride, let alone persisting the way he had.  I had no intention of firing off any more rounds and compromising safe passage to the other side of town so he had nothing to be worried about, but he was still an idiot.  I just had to bite my tongue, a discipline I had yet to master in my lifetime, until I reached my destination.

 

“Someday, when you get a family,” Dave kept at it, “you’ll realize that if you want your children to have more than you had at their age, you can’t just do you anymore, and you have to allow them to count on you.  Don’t get me wrong, you still have to work to get what you personally need, but you’ve got other souls to provide for.  Lead by example, that’s what I do.  Get your kids what they want and need, but do so through regulation.  You can’t give in to every whim or they’ll think that’s how life is, which you and I both know isn’t true.  You’ve got to teach them by showing them.”

 

Dave paused for a moment as he turned the car off the main road and onto a side street.  I had never gone this way to get to the Grove.  Maybe it was a short cut that I didn’t know about.  The rain was still beating down on the car, creating a sort of muffled drumline serenade.  There were very few street lights on this road and no headlights or taillights in either direction.

 

We had the road to ourselves.

 

My phone vibrated again.  It was Crane.  “DJ where R U? Call me now.”

 

“I’ve got three kids,” Dave said.  “Three boys, one a bit older than you.  There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for my boys.  But if I want to be true to them and better them, I have to control the urge to give them everything because they’ll never learn.  It’s hard, man.  I’ll tell you, it’s hard.  You’ll find that out when you’re a dad.  I would lie down and die for my boys.  Hell, I’d kill for them if I had to.  That’s the kind of commitment I have to them.”

 

He was getting deep, uncomfortably so.  A shift in the air seemed to have occurred due to the conversation.  He looked at me for a second.  I tried to avoid his gaze, but it wasn’t easy.  He and I stared at one another for the shortest of moments ending with me pulling my eyes away first.

 

My phone vibrated yet again.  This time it was a call from Crane, not just another text.  He was getting impatient since I’ve pushed off his texts.  The phone caught the attention of my driver.

 

“If you need to take that, by all means,” Dave said.  “You won’t offend me.  I’m guessing someone is just worried you might be caught in the storm.”

 

I shoved the phone back in my pocket.  “Nah, it’s nothing.  I’ll hit him back later.”

 

“I’m kind of talking your ear off.”

 

“You’re good,” I mumbled quickly.

 

“What do you do, Ty?”

 

I shrugged.  “This and that.  What I need to, I guess.”

 

Dave chuckled with a condescending undertone.  I had to ignore it, especially since I may not have read him properly.  I don’t know this man, after all.  “I did a lot of that when I was your age, too.  Of course I had a family by then, so I guess I was a bit more desperate for work.”

 

My jaw was clenched down on my tongue.  People don’t ever jaw off to me like this, not unless they want to meet my fists or my boys or my piece.  Whether it’s his intent to belittle me or not, I wasn’t appreciating it.

 

“I did bartending and construction work and telemarketing and, you know, I even delivered and picked up port o’potties just to keep food on the table in my youth.  I may have been desperate, but I never did anything illegal.”  What was he implying?  “I never turned to drugs or anything, though.  I was aware of how good the money was.  I could’ve sold or moved or manufactured, but I had too much to lose.  I, personally, just couldn’t risk it.  I had buddies making a lot of money selling some stuff, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

 

I remained silent, not wanting to let any offense in my words slip through the cracks of my response.

 

“There were so many other opportunities I decided to take. I mean, I moved shit-shacks for pennies, but at least I could look at myself in the mirror at night.”

 

The car kept on rolling, dipping into overflowing sewer grates and sending a wall of rain water onto the darkened sidewalks.  The distance between buildings seemed to grow as we drove on, approaching a sparser, more rural area of town.

 

“I hear what you’re saying, man,” I offered, holding my tone at cordial.  "What is it you do, Dave," I asked, feeling I needed more information to pass my own judgment about this man.

 

"Well, I own a few convenient stores in the area and I'm a pastor of a local church."

 

I nodded slowly.  That made a lot of sense.  "A man of the cloth, I can see that."

 

"Do you practice religion?"

 

"Nah."

 

"Do you believe in the God almighty?"

 

"That's a pretty personal question, wouldn't you say, padre?"

 

Dave shrugged sideways.  "I can be for some who are actively avoiding the Lord.  The ones who welcome Him into their lives find the question as welcomed as any other.  How long has it been since your last confession?"

 

"I didn't know pastors did confessions."

 

"I'm always willing to lend an ear."

 

I shook my head.  "Nah, man.  I'm good."

 

Dave gave his offer a second to soak in before trying again.  "It's very freeing, Ty.  It can make you feel so much better than you think, especially if you've never done it before.  And you may be surprised to know that everybody needs to confess, even me."

 

I sighed heavily running my hand over my leg.  "There's nothin', man."

 

"Not a thing?  In the twenty-three years you've been breathing, you haven't sinned once?"

 

I turned and looked right at him.  He was surprisingly difficult to read.  "Look man, I ain't no saint, that's for damn sure, but that don't mean I'm gonna spill everything.  That just ain't me.  I don't do that," I started chuckling lightly.  "I don't even know you, man."

 

"All the more reason to release.  Don't be afraid."

 

I chuckled again.  "I ain't afriad.  I ain't afraid," I said firmly.  Dave nodded slowly. I started shaking my head.  "Don't get it twisted.  I've done shit.  I've done so much shit that I can't take back and shit I regret, but talking about it ain't gonna change the fact that it's done.  It's done.  The deed is done and ain't no confession gonna make it better."  I found my voice rising as I got a little defensive.

 

"You never know until you try," Dave said easily.  He was probably used to this kind of denial and he was probably used to overcoming it, but that wasn't going to work on me.  My phone rang again.  I knew without looking at it who was calling.

 

Dave heard the hum of the phone in my pocket and glanced in the direction.  “You should answer that.”

 

“Nah, it’s all good.”  Turning down another road, now I was really wondering where Dave was going.  “Eh man, you know the way?”

 

“I know where I’m going,” he replied bitterly.  The silence was unnerving now.  The weather report came on the radio, warning travelers of severe flash flooding in the area with standing water covering sidewalks and roadways, making some routes impassible, most specifically in low-lying areas and areas near bodies of water.

 

“It’s a good thing I found you,” Dave said, pausing for a moment.  “You could’ve drowned out there.”  He was putting me on edge now.

 

Right after the weather report, a news bulletin came over the air.

 

“Police are searching for a man in connection with a shooting earlier this evening in Midtown.  A young male, who still hasn’t been identified by the authorities, was shot four times outside his apartment complex.  Police say the male, in his early twenties, was unresponsive when they arrived on the scene and was later pronounced dead at the hospital.  It is believed the altercation may have initiated over drugs.  Police Chief Jeff Martens reports the victim had empty pockets which may suggest the shooter took any money or any drugs that may have been on him.  Though there were few witnesses, no one could identify the shooter.  According to police, the shooter is a black male in his early- to mid-twenties, about six feet tall, wearing black pants, a black hoodie, and a green vest.  He was seen fleeing on foot toward Main Street.  If anyone has any information regarding the shooter’s identity or his whereabouts, please contact the Midtown police department.”

 

My chest tightened.  I stole a glance at Dave out of the corner of my eye, hoping to read his reaction through the darkness.  To me, it looked as if he hadn’t put two and two together.  He continued to navigate through the storm, keeping a sharp eye on the road.

Despite Dave’s calm, oblivious demeanor, I carefully slipped my hand into my vest pocket, cupping my fingers around my gun, waiting for a reaction out of Dave.  I think the lack of reaction was more unnerving than the idea of him confronting me about the news bulletin.

 

Dave sighed heavily, dropping his head back onto the seat.  “It is really coming down out there.”

 

The tension was suffocating.  “You know, you can just let me out here, man.  I got a buddy on the phone who can come get me.  You don’t need to go out of your way.”

 

“Ah, I’m already this far, might as well go all the way.  I'm  man of my word.”

 

I exhaled deeply.  My phone rang.  This time, I yanked the phone out of my pocket, but before I could answer, the call dropped.  It was dead.  “Where are we?”

 

Dave didn’t answer.  He kept pushing his Taurus deeper through the rain on a seemingly desolate road.  There weren’t any more street lights or buildings, no markers telling me where we were or where we were going, since I had a feeling it wasn’t towards the Grove any more.

 

Even though he hadn’t reacted to the news story over the radio, I had a feeling Dave knew it was me they were looking for.  If that was the case, I was still confused as to where we were headed.  If he wanted to turn me in to the police, he wasn't heading towards any police station in town that I knew of.  My grip tightened on my weapon.  I tried to find the door handle with plans of bailing as soon as he slowed down enough.

 

Suddenly, Dave whips a gun out of nowhere and jabs the barrel to my temple.  “I need to see your hands,” he says carefully, slowing the car as he speaks.

 

“What the fuck, man?” I spat, pulling my hands up slowly.  Did he want to rob me?  He could've assumed my pockets were full based on the news bulletin.  Worst case scenario, I'd be empty handed and stranded in this storm.  The way I saw it, I wasn't with the police so I was still ahead of the game.

 

“Shh,” Dave hushed me as the car came to a stop.  “Take your gun out of your pocket and throw it out the window.”  With his free hand, Dave rolled down my window.  The rain started pouring into the car.

 

I did as I was told, hesitantly, our eyes entangled in a vicious stare down.  With a good heave, I whipped my gun out of the open window and, even through the sound of the rain, I could hear the gun splash into what I thought was a puddle.

 

“Now, we’re going to get out of the car.”

 

“I don’t have anything on me,” I started.

 

“Shut up and get out.”  Dave pops his door open first, not breaking his gaze.

 

Again, I do as I’m told, hoping that once Dave realizes I don’t have any cash.  My feet dropped into ankle-deep water when I stepped out and the rain persists, showering down on the two of us.

 

“Move to the front of the car,” Dave shouts over the top of the car.

 

“I’m telling you, I don’t have anything on me,” I said, still holding my hands in the air.  “I just threw away the only thing I was carrying.”

 

“Stop talking.”

 

I could barely see Dave as the heavy rain drops trickled down the top of my hood and over my eyes.  It almost felt as if the water was rising by the minute.  By this point, the standing water was inching up my calf and I had to work to stand my ground against the current.  I tried to look around to see where I was, but I couldn’t see anything.  Even with the headlights on, the rain created a thick wall around them and the car.

 

“C’mon man, this is stupid.  Just check me and you’ll see, I ain’t got nothing,” I pushed, growing frustrated.

 

“That's not the point, Ty,” Dave said dazedly. 

 

"Dave, you're a man of God.  C'mon, think about this.  Just stop."

 

With a slight tick of his head, Dave grimaced.  "I'll be forgiven."  He gently squeezed the trigger.  The round strikes me in the shoulder and I fly backward, knocking into the hood of the car then rolling to the ground.  As I gasp in surprise, I nearly drown in the accumulated rain water.  The grimy water fills my mouth and I choke, coughing and spitting out the water.

 

“What the fuck,” I shout, working to pull myself out of the flood waters and upright.

 

Dave was standing over me now.  “I told you,” he said in a barely audible voice.  “I told you I’d do anything.”

 

“What?”

 

Dave fires three more rounds.  Out of breath, Dave swallows hard before returning to the car.  He knows that the area was known for flooding and the body would be washed into the lake.  It would be a long time before it would be discovered, if at all.

 

Fleeing the area, Dave returns the way he came when his cell phone rings.

 

“Where are you?” Dave’s wife cries hysterically on the other end.  “You need to get here.  We need you.  I need you.  I can’t do this on my own.  Oh my God, our baby.  Our baby is gone.  They say he was shot outside his apartment, just right outside in the parking lot.  Nobody saw what happened, at least they’re not telling the police if they saw anything.  Why weren’t you there?  Why weren’t you with him?  Please, just get here.”

 

Dave hangs up the phone.  His wife thought their son died alone, but Dave had been there with him.  Dave saw their son in an argument with a stranger in the parking lot, but before Dave could approach them both, the shots rang out and his son was gone.

 

A father would do anything for his son, even if that meant jumping into his car, chasing down an unknown armed murderer, and coaxing the shooter into the car.  Even if that meant killing another person and washing away the evidence.  Even if that meant taking justice into his own hands.  After all, you can’t count on anybody but yourself.

Impressum

Texte: Jess Wygle
Bildmaterialien: Google Images
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 27.02.2014

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