Wind Tunnel
Page 2
The old storyteller sighed and shook his head. “Despite the wonderful nature of most in Coralinda, there lurks the sort of vicious criminal element that flourishes in any city where poverty rages endemic. Hopelessness often summons one’s lesser demons, don’t you think?”
“I’m sure that’s right,” Doc said. “Well, I guess we’ll have to pick this up another day. It’s about time for me to report to work, and I need to get cleaned up first.”
“Of course. I’m sure we’ll have many opportunities to talk, but before you go, may I ask you one question?”
“Certainly.”
“Why did you come to Coralinda? Did you have trouble back home?”
“No, no trouble. I just wanted to go somewhere I might otherwise never see—a little adventure. But more than that, I was feeling bored and uninspired, as if I wasn’t making a difference.” He shrugged. “I want to make a real impact, provide a valuable service for people who might otherwise not get what they need. At the same time, I’d like to enjoy my adventure. Coralinda offers me both.”
“That sounds very nice.”
“Listen, don’t get me wrong. I’m not a saint or anything. I’m doing this for me. Think I’ll get a real kick out of it, and helping others is merely frosting on the cake.”
Pablo smiled and nodded. “I understand. Thank you, I won’t keep you any longer. Go and have a great day of helping others at the clinic. Perhaps we’ll talk again next time.”
“Absolutely. We’ll have lots of chances, since I can hardly go a day without running. It cleanses me and brings me peace.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Not sure that makes any sense.”
“It does. Why do you think we run so much as children? Such a joyful activity, but when we grow older, we lose touch with these simple joys. I’m glad to see you haven’t forgotten, and I look forward to sharing more stories with you. Soon you’ll know enough about Coralinda to tell your own stories.”
“I’ll look forward to it, and it was a real pleasure meeting you, Pablo.”
Part 3 – Moving On
Two weeks later, Pablo occupied his usual bench when Doc Sheehan arrived at the park. The old storyteller anticipated this most enjoyable routine. He’d taught the buen gringo a considerable amount about Coralinda during previous visits, and Doc in turn had shared his experiences at the clinic.
Just as Pablo was about to greet his friend, a boy of nine or ten ran up to the bench. “El Dr. Mike, el Dr. Mike!”
Doc turned to the boy. “Alfonso, como esta?”
Alfonso scratched at a bandage covering much of the right side of his head. “Estoy muy bien.” As abruptly as he’d approached the men, he returned to run and play with his friends.
Pablo clapped his hands and laughed. “It seems you and Alfonsito know one another.”
“Oh, he came into the clinic last week with his ear half torn off.”
“That sounds horrible.”
“Yeah, he got it caught in a machine at his father’s workshop. We were able to patch him up, and aside from some minor scarring, he’ll suffer no permanent damage.”
“Wonderful. I am particularly interested to hear of the children your program benefits. Don’t misunderstand, I’m glad to hear of all the people you help, but to ease the suffering of children.... This warms my heart.”
Doc grinned. “Yeah, they’re innocent, and so darn cute.”
“Yes, yes. So how many laps will you run today?”
“To tell you the truth, I feel as if I could run forever. I used to do it to burn off stress, but things are so much better these days. Don’t want to sound too corny or self-congratulatory, but I swear, my work at the clinic has been positively uplifting. I could almost fly.”
“In that case, you should do your maximum of four laps.”
“Excellent idea, my friend. Off I go.”
Pablo leaned back and allowed the bright sunshine to warm his face. A breeze fluttered through the trees and carried the scent of freshly cut grass. Children played nearby without inhibition, dressed in the bright red, orange and yellow school uniforms customary to the region.
Each time Doc finished a lap and moved on, Pablo kept a count for him. “One down and three to go,” he said the first time. “Two down and two to go,” he said after the second lap, and so on.
A few children ran over for each pass, helping to call out the lap count as if it were a new game.
Pablo wanted to do something to express his gratitude for the work the young doctor did in Coralinda, but he didn’t know the man’s needs or desires. That would require some gentle probing on his part. Perhaps, if he were subtle in his inquiries, he could hide his true motive.
When Doc approached after his fourth and final lap, Pablo eased into his mission with some small talk. “So how was your run today?”
“Fantastic, even with the ungodly heat.”
“Is it too hot?”
“Not out here in the open, but it’s brutal inside the tunnel—thick and oppressive.”
“Really? It seems the city could do something about this.”
“What they need are a couple of big fans blowing back toward the entrance. Some wind would make it more bearable. Plus, as an added benefit, it might provide a little resistance to run against, which always helps.”
“You like running into the wind?”
“You bet, especially on a flat track like this one.”
“I must say, with all you’re doing for us, the least we can do is to provide a little wind.”
Doc flung his head back and laughed. “I doubt the city will install fans just for me. Still, it’s a nice sentiment, my old friend.”
That was easy, Pablo thought.
“If we may continue my cultural education,” Doc said, “I’ve heard the city’s patron saint mentioned often. His name was Pablo too. I suppose that’s common in these parts, although he’d be about two hundred years older than you. Then again, to hear Alfonso tell it at the clinic last week, you’ve been telling stories for about that long.”
“Oh yes, a child’s imagination is a true blessing.” Pablo smiled and glanced at the ground. “As it happens, I know our patron saint well. Indeed, he was very much like you.”
“How’s that?”
“He was also a strong runner. When the Spaniards arrived to put down the revolution for independence, he ran all the way from the sea to the mountains to warn the villagers. It took him a whole month, and he so exhausted himself that, after he’d told the leaders of their peril, he crawled to the foot of the church steps, and his heart exploded.”
“Wow! Well, if that doesn’t earn a man sainthood....”
***
Doc Sheehan returned to the park the following day and found their usual bench empty. The trees at the periphery stood alone—no couples spread out on blankets in the shade, just a few birds darting about, and one adventurous cat fixated on them. The lawns swarmed with the usual group of kids, running and laughing and calling after one another. Doc raised his right hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight, turned a full circle, and shrugged his shoulders.
Well, I can’t expect Pablo to be here every day.
With his stretching and warm-ups completed, he bolted onto the path. A downy mist of sweltering, oppressive heat already lay upon him like a wet suit.
Ah, suck it up, Mikey-boy.
The tunnel loomed like the mouth of a dragon, breathing fire and doom—closer, closer, until.... A burst of air hit his face and swirled his hair in a stream behind him. It buffeted him from head to foot, forced him to lean into his stride, and massaged his limbs with cool bliss.
What the...? Did Pablo pull some strings and get the city to install some fans? What an incredible old man! There’s something about the old storyteller—something spiritual, almost holy.
“We’ll have to talk, you old rascal.”
The reinvigorating blast blew for the entire 1.8-mile length of the tunnel. As he approached the exit, he glanced around for fans, or for som
e source of the wind.
Nothing.
“What in the world?”
He emerged from the tunnel to a different kind of blast, as if pummeling headlong into a wall. The air hung still and heavy with fierce heat and humidity.
Where did the wind come from? I must have been in one hell of a zone to miss it. I’ll pay closer attention on the next lap.
He wished his friend were here so he could thank him. Who else could have been responsible, after all? Doc had mentioned his desire for wind in the tunnel only yesterday, and only to Pablo, and already someone had addressed it.
Where are you today, my friend?
He cruised into the tunnel for his second lap, reminding himself to watch more carefully. He slowed his pace, turned his head left and right, left and right, forward and back, until the very end.
“How in the world is the wind...?”
He circled about the end of the tunnel for several minutes, shook his head, and ran off to complete what would be his last lap for the day.
“I’ll see Pablo tomorrow. He’ll know what’s going on.”
***
At the start, the wind had been cool and offered great relief against the stifling heat. Two months later, the weather now cooled as autumn approached in Argentina. Yet the temperature inside the tunnel remained at the same constant, comfortable level.
The Miraculous Wind Tunnel, as the locals called it, teemed with curious spectators, media types, people seeking a holy experience, investigators of the paranormal and....
Far too many people.
City engineers had combed every inch, but they’d found no clues to explain the miracle, and each day without an answer brought a new round of mystery hunters.
A frustrated Doc Sheehan struggled to complete his daily run, hoping the novelty of the tunnel would wear off... at least enough for him to enjoy his runs unabated.
In the meantime, “Perdone me!” He slowed to pass without incident; didn’t want to barrel into the crowd as if he were a linebacker for the Chicago Bears.
He smiled. Yeah, I’m no Brian Erlacher. Besides, I can tolerate it. I owe Pablo that much.
If only the old storyteller were sitting at their bench. Doc hadn’t seen him in two months, not since suggesting that wind in the tunnel would be a nice thing.
“A nice thing, indeed,” he whispered. “Thanks, Pablo, wherever you are.”
He picked up his pace.
---THE END---
About the Author
Lane Diamond is the pen name for David Lane. He grew up in Algonquin, Illinois, where he graduated from Harry D. Jacobs High School in 1978. After a short college stint, he served in the U.S. Air Force at Ramstein AB, Germany, 1980-1982, and at Lowry AFB, Denver, CO, 1982-1983. Then it was on to real life.
For more, please visit his website at www.LaneDiamond.com.
Lane’s debut novel, Forgive Me, Alex, a psychological thriller that takes the reader inside the mind of a serial killer, and of the man who hunts him, is now available. The sequel, The Devil’s Bane, is due to release in the spring of 2015.
Lane Diamond is also co-founder and managing publisher/editor at Evolved Publishing, a small press publisher. For details, please visit their website at www.EvolvedPub.com.
Find more from Lane Diamond online at:
GoodReads ; Facebook ; Google+ ; Twitter ; LinkedIn
What’s Next?
THE DEVIL’S BANE
by Lane Diamond
Tony Hooper will return to action in the spring of 2015, in this sequel to Forgive Me, Alex. For more information on this book, please visit the Evolved Publishing website.
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A serial killer the media has dubbed “The Blue Suede Killer” plagues southwest Wisconsin, and the authorities are having a hard time tracking him down. Tony Hooper thinks he can help. After all, this is what he does. He’s a hunter of monsters.
Yet this brings Tony back into the shadows where his love interest, FBI Special Agent Linda Monroe, must do her job. It also brings him close to the one woman he always assumed was meant for him, the woman he lost seventeen years earlier. Can he and Diana speak about what happened? Can they finally put it behind them? Will they move on together, or separately once again… and forever? And what will it all mean for Tony and Linda?
All the while, Tony is battling another foe, the man he’s long called ‘the devil’, Mitchell Norton. They’ve waged their personal war for seventeen years, and it’s time for one – at long lost – to declare victory. ‘The devil’ has stolen too much from Tony, and thrown Tony’s life into a whirlwind of remorse, self-doubt, and self-examination.
If Norton has his way, Tony’s losses will mount even further.
THE HOBBY
(A Short Story)
by Lane Diamond
For some, hobbies are a welcome distraction to the grind of everyday life. For others, they are the stuff of nightmares. For more information on this story, please visit the Evolved Publishing website.
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One woman just wants to be left alone... mostly. She’s always open to the possibility of finding a good man.
One man just wants to be left alone... mostly. He’s always open to the possibility of finding an interesting woman.
After all, how can he pursue his hobby without interesting subjects?
More from Lane Diamond
FORGIVE ME, ALEX
by Lane Diamond
Two personalities, two attitudes, two goals, two methods—one darkness. This psychological thriller novel is now available. For more information on this book, please visit the Evolved Publishing website.
~~~~~
~~~~~
Tony Hooper stands in shadow across the street, one amongst many in the crowd of curiosity-hounds gathered to watch a monster’s release. Seventeen years after Mitchell Norton, the devil, terrorized Algonquin, Illinois on a spree of kidnapping, torture and murder, the authorities release the butcher from psychiatric prison.
Tony longs to charge across the street to destroy Norton—no remorse—as if stepping on a cockroach. Only sheer force of will prevents his doing so.
The devil walks the world again. What shall Tony do about it? Aye, what indeed.
After all, this is what Tony does. It’s who he is. The devil himself long ago made Tony into this hunter of monsters. What a sweet twist of fate this is, that he may still, finally, administer justice.
Will FBI Special Agent Linda Monroe stop him? She owes him her life, so how can she possibly put an end to his?
Tony Hooper and Mitchell Norton battle for supremacy, with law enforcement always a step away, in this story of justice and vengeance, evil and redemption, fear and courage, love and loss.
~~~~~
Praise for Forgive Me, Alex:
“Lane Diamond has succeeded in bringing to the surface the dark and horrifying mind of a psychotic serial killer while at the same time bringing forth the desperate need for humanity and justice for the victims and their families.” – The Kindle Book Review
“Psychological thrillers are my kind of books! Not only do I write them, but truly enjoy reading one that makes my skin crawl, my nerves skitter with fear and my heart thump a tad louder. This incredible novel by Lane Diamond handed me ALL of that, in spades!” – Ashley Fontainne, Author of “Zero Balance (Eviscerating the Snake)”
“With a deeply attuned attention to the nature of humanity and psychosis, Diamond delves into the darkest corners of the human mind and pulls out nuggets of horror and absolution that will leave you wanting more. I look forward to more books from this amazing author. This is a book to rival any of the great thrillers you’ve ever read and is a definite must read!” – Kimberly (Karpov) Kinrade, Author of “The Forbidden Trilogy”
“Lane gets you into the head of the characters and you feel this bond with them urging you to read faster to find out what happens next. You know you are reading a great book when you need to stop reading but keep tel
ling yourself just one more chapter, then one more leads to half the book. I felt so bad for Tony and all his loss. I wanted to murder Mitchell Norton myself. I wish I knew old Frank personally. I was caught off guard by the ending and can’t wait for the next book! Well done!” – Jennifer @ Can’t Put It Down Reviews
“...Lane’s writing makes you really care about these people and what’s going on. Lane excels in this area of sympathetic characters.” – Tim C. Ward, Book Blogger & Podcaster
“I have actually read this story twice, yes twice! There are new things to discover each time you read it and I would encourage you to pick it up again, see what you can discover about Tony Hooper the second time around ... and see what you can maybe discover about yourself. I was able to understand my sick fascination with serial killers and horror gore a little better with the aide of Forgive Me, Alex—it is the only media representation of such a horrific character type that effectively goes beyond the curtain.” – Marie Borthwick
“I think what struck me the most about the story, and what I really enjoyed, was the way Diamond explored the depths of the main characters, Tony Hooper and Mitchell Norton. It would be easy in this type of story to get caught up in the action. But correctly, I think, Diamond recognizes that the strength of the book lies in the characters, and he does an excellent job of helping the reader understand the inner workings of their minds. ... That is not to say that the “action” scenes were not well done. In fact, I found myself drawn to the most disturbing scenes, which I think is a real compliment to the manner in which they were presented.” – Rich V. at Amazon
EVOLUTION: VOL. 1 (A SHORT STORY COLLECTION)
From the 1st Evolved Publishing Short Story Contest
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This anthology features 10 stories by 10 authors, including One Last Thought by Lane Diamond, an experimental tale of desire and devotion. Evolution: Vol. 1 (A Short Story Collection) is edited by Lane Diamond and D.T. Conklin. For more information on this book, please visit the Evolved Publishing website.