Beast of a Feast

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Beast of a Feast Page 11

by Melanie Jackson


  “But the journey was fun, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. Kind of.”

  “It’s all about the journey, not the destination.”

  “I think this destination is rather nice.”

  Alex nodded in agreement. He was then occupied by rapidly breathing in and out around a mouthful of sizzling hot egg roll. I took the opportunity to broach the subject of my recent experiences.

  “I saw a man jump to his death this evening.”

  “So I heard. How do you feel about that?”

  “Lousy. How do you think I feel?” I snapped, slapping my hands to the table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “It’s okay,” Alex said, reaching out a hand to take mine. “Can I tell you a story that a friend of mine experienced firsthand?”

  “Will it make sense of this evening?”

  “I doubt it. But you might find some insights in it.”

  “Please do then.”

  And this is what he said…

  The Story of the Macon County Meltdown

  A young man named Brian worked construction in a small town in Macon County. One day he was riding in the back of a pickup, charged with taking care of a delicate piece of earth-sampling equipment. The pickup he was in hit a large bump that sent Brian flying out of the back of the truck. In an attempt to protect the earth sampler, he wrapped his body around the device and hit the ground rolling. You see, Brian was not only concerned with the cost of the instrument, he was also scared because the instrument contained a small radioactive isotope that he was afraid might be released if the machine was damaged.

  Brian was awful beat up by the fall, but the device seemed to come out of the incident unscathed. It being lunch time, Brian accompanied his work colleagues to a local Chinese restaurant where they shared a lavish meal, including shrimp, which Brian had for the first time. After lunch, Brian didn’t feel so well, so he was allowed to go home early. At home, Brian stood in front of his bathroom mirror to examine his bruises. He was shocked to find that he had broken out in a terrible rash around his stomach. Positive that he was suffering from radiation poisoning, Brian rushed to the offices of his doctor.

  When Brian’s doctor saw Brian’s horrible rash and heard his story, he knew that he was in way over his head. Instead of treating Brian himself, he called for an ambulance to take Brian to the local hospital. While the ambulance was in transit, the hospital staff prepared themselves for a radiation incident by donning special protective clothing and awaiting Brian’s appearance in the parking lot. Upon his arrival, Brian was stripped of his clothing, and standing buck naked in the parking lot he was hosed off with cold water. He was then placed on a gurney and wheeled into the hospital for treatment and observation.

  Meanwhile, Brian’s doctor had called the local sheriff, a man named Burns. When Sheriff Burns heard that there had been a nuclear incident at a local construction site, he knew just what to do. Digging through his civil defense supplies, he found an old Geiger counter that powered up when he switched it on. Taking the device to where the accident had occurred, Burns turned the device on and the needle registering the amount of radiation measured jumped immediately into the red zone. Sheriff Burns paced in the direction of a nearby housing development and watched as the needle remained maxed out in the red zone, not dropping one bit.

  Realizing that he had uncovered a major nuclear accident, the sheriff called into the station to have all of his inactive officers brought back on duty. Furthermore, he issued orders that they were to begin evacuating residents of the neighborhoods near and around the construction site. Meanwhile, Sheriff Burns continued his measurements in an attempt to determine the scope of the contamination.

  Going door to door, sheriff’s officers managed to evacuate hundreds of families near the epicenter of the incident. To prevent a panic, the evacuees were not informed of the source of the emergency. Instead, they were ordered to get into their cars and drive around the outskirts of town until they were told that it was safe to return home. Fearing the worst, the families complied, bundling their children into station wagons and minivans to drive the country roads surrounding the town.

  By the end of the day, word of the massive evacuation had leaked to a colonel at a local Air Force base. Being an expert in nuclear warfare and radiation poisoning, he felt compelled to investigate by driving to the construction site. There he found that Sheriff Burns had determined the radiation leak spanned a four-mile diameter circle in the center of town, the Geiger counter only having settled down after he had paced a two-mile swath of land.

  Identifying himself and assuring the sheriff of his credentials, the colonel asked to see the Geiger counter. While examining the device, he found that the sensitivity of the equipment was set so high that the sheriff had been measuring the radiation emitted by the sun. The device had settled down only as the sun set. The colonel went on to explain that the radioactive isotope in the earth sampler was so small that it would do little damage if it was released. In a panic, the sheriff radioed the station to call off the evacuation.

  Meanwhile, back at the hospital, Brian was diagnosed with an allergic reaction to the shrimp he’d eaten during his Chinese lunch.

  That evening, the sheriff’s officers of Macon County patrolled the country roads outside of town looking for people who seemed to be driving aimlessly. When found, they were pulled over and told to return home.

  * * *

  “Is that a truly true story?” I asked.

  “It is. The names of the people and places have been changed, but it’s basically true.”

  “Well, it’s a very amusing story, but I fail to see how it applies to our situation.”

  “It’s all about overreaction. Overreaction to a food allergy. Overreaction to a party. Overreaction to losing a job. And maybe, just maybe, a little overreaction to performing your duty.”

  I felt the tears beginning to well up again. I fought them back and shot Alex a smile, which I knew he liked. We were interrupted by the waiter who brought and enormous amount of food to our table on a rolling cart.

  “No good,” he grumbled as he served us. “Thanksgiving no good. You eat lots.”

  Alex and I giggled once the man’s back was turned, then we pounced upon our meal like a pack of hungry hyenas.

  Chapter 10

  The night before, we’d returned home so late from our Chinese dinner that we found our home deserted. Alex and I went right to bed and fell asleep straight away. So it wasn’t until early the next morning that we were able to gauge the extent of the destruction to our home. And it was extensive. Walking around Marshal McPherson, who was still passed out in our living room, I made my way through the debris to the tent out back for a cup of day-old coffee. There I sat, sipped, and fumed over what had happened to my home.

  Before I had finished drafting my hit list, the wrecking crew arrived. They removed the tables, took down the tent, and restored my planters in the backyard. My lawn looked a little worse for wear, but otherwise I was happy with the results. I had them leave the fence down since I liked the idea of being able to move between the properties without using a gate. Next the cleaning crew arrived. This consisted of the gardening and hiking clubs, who were there to take down the decorations and pick up debris, and professional cleaners to vacuum and dust, having to vacuum around the marshal. I should have known that Tara Lee would think of everything that was left. By the time these two groups left, my home was beginning to look good again.

  Finally, the movers arrived and began replacing my furniture. Once I had furnishings in the living room, I had them move the Federal Marshal from the floor to the sofa where he continued to snore. By the time they were done, the house was back to normal.

  Everyone had gone and I was just settling down to a cup of café mocha at my kitchen table when there was a tentative knock on the door. I was surprised because I couldn’t remember anyone having knocked before coming in during the last couple of days. I walked across my clean liv
ing room, to the sound of the marshal’s snores, and opened my door to find Tara Lee standing on the stoop with a large vase full of white lilies in her hands.

  “Tara Lee, what are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to stop by with a thank you gift,” she explained, handing me the vase.

  “Oh, they’re beautiful. Thank you.”

  “No, thank you,” she said with a self-conscious smile, totally inappropriate given her typical confidence. “You know, you really were a good sport about having your home taken from you.”

  “It was nothing,” I said modestly. “Besides, it was fun.”

  I sometimes lie in a good cause.

  “No, it wasn’t nothing. It was definitely something. And I want to thank you for doing it, especially on such short notice and with such little information about what was to happen.”

  It was then that I realized Tara Lee had stopped by to apologize, not just to say thank you.

  “Nobody but you could have pulled it off,” I complimented.

  “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  That’s when we hugged, a genuine heartfelt hug. When we broke our embrace, neither of us could help but smile with childish exuberance.

  “I see your home has returned to normal.”

  “All but the sleeping lawman on the sofa.”

  “I can call to have someone take care of that if you’d like.”

  “Nah. Let’s let him sleep it off.”

  We considered each other for a moment, almost fondly. Then Tara Lee stiffened and assumed her usual haughty air.

  “Well, I’ve got to be going,” she announced. “I’m speaking at a gathering of the Women’s Association this morning.”

  “Good luck.”

  “You too,” she said and was gone, leaving only her perfume behind.

  When I returned to the kitchen, I found Alex sitting at the table reading one of his infernal computer manuals. Being careful not to disturb him, I sat quietly at my end of the table and sipped my coffee. Eventually, he looked up and smiled. I recognized that amorous look in his eyes. I was deciding whether to return the look or not when we were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.

  “Hello, this is Chloe,” I answered.

  “Boston, get down here to the intensive care unit as quickly as you can,” the Chief replied.

  “I’m on my way,” I said, and hung up. “Come on, Alex. We’ve got to roll.”

  It wasn’t until I was out the door with Alex fast on my heels that I realized I’d been jumping to the Chief’s commands a lot of late with no explanation provided for the urgency. Not that what he’d been commanding hadn’t turned out to be urgent. I just hoped that the trip to the local hospital didn’t further ruin my holiday. As Alex drove us there, I wondered what it was I might be getting myself into. I knew it was important, otherwise the Chief wouldn’t have called. At the same time, I was glad that he hadn’t told me that we had business to address.

  Parking in the hospital lot, I all but ran to the front door of the building. There Alex and I rode the elevator to the third floor. When we got off the elevator, the Chief was there waiting for us in the hallway of the intensive care unit.

  “What is it, Chief?” I asked impatiently. “Has someone been hurt? Is it another murder investigation?”

  “Calm down, Boston. It’s nothing like that, but I do have something important for you to see.”

  Leaving my questions unanswered, the Chief led the way down the hall. Halfway to the end, he turned and peered through a window into a private room. I stopped beside him and looked too. Inside the room was Nathaniel Evans, lying in a hospital bed, very much alive. My breath caught in my throat and I grabbed for Alex’s hand. Sitting in a chair beside Nathan’s bed was his wife, Nancy Evans. Standing beside her, holding his father’s hand, was Daniel Evans. All of them appeared to be laughing together. They were so absorbed in each other’s company that none of them recognized that they were being watched through the plate glass window; none of them even looked our way. I leaned my head against Alex’s shoulder and watched as the family interacted.

  “Dr. Plante has already spoken with him. He’s going to get the help he needs once he’s out of the hospital. As long as he stays in therapy, the district attorney won’t press charges.”

  The Chief had been managing things again, but this time I agreed.

  “Good.”

  “Anyway, let’s step inside,” the Chief eventually suggested. “I’m sure that Mr. Evans would like to speak with you.”

  “No, wait, Chief,” I cautioned, grabbing his arm to stop him. “I think this is enough.”

  The Chief looked back to me and nodded his head in acknowledgement. All three of us remained where we were, watching for a time, before the Chief put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

  “Well, I’ve got to get going,” he said. “I have a date with Barbara.”

  “I hope everything goes better this time.”

  “I’ll just have to play it slow.”

  “Good plan.”

  The Chief started to walk away.

  “And Chief,” I called.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Thanks.”

  The Chief shot me a smile and saluted. I turned eagerly back to the window.

  Over the last several days, I’d heard stories of the past and experienced stories taking shape in the present. As I watched, I realized that I was seeing yet another form of story unfold. This was a story of the future, a future in which a family rebuilt itself, where new bonds were formed to replace the old faulty ones, and where love served to hold the pieces together. Holding tight to Alex’s hand, I realized that I was a very lucky woman, very lucky indeed.

  I was the first to turn away, leading Alex back down the hall toward the elevators.

  “What do you say we go away for Christmas this year, just the two of us?” I asked.

  “That sounds nice,” Alex replied. “Do you think we’ll actually manage to pull it off?”

  “We can but try.”

  “Okay, but no murder investigations this time.”

  “I promise. Cross my heart.” I skipped the hope to die part.

  Together with the man I loved, I walked into my own story of the future, very hopeful that there would be many happy endings along the way.

  About the Author

  Melanie Jackson is the author of over 50 novels. If you enjoyed this story, please visit Melanie’s author web site at www.melaniejackson.com.

  eBooks by Melanie Jackson:

  The Chloe Boston Mystery Series:

  Moving Violation

  The Pumpkin Thief

  Death in a Turkey Town

  Murder on Parade

  Cupid’s Revenge

  Viva Lost Vegas

  Death of a Dumb Bunny

  Red, White and a Dog Named Blue

  Haunted

  The Great Pumpkin Caper

  Beast of a Feast

  The Butterscotch Jones Mystery Series

  Due North

  Big Bones

  Gone South

  Wildside Series

  Outsiders

  Courier

  Still Life

  The Book of Dreams Series:

  The First Book of Dreams: Metropolis

  The Second Book of Dreams: Meridian

  The Third Book of Dreams: Destiny

  Medicine Trilogy

  Bad Medicine

  Medicine Man

  Knave of Hearts

  Club Valhalla

  Devil of Bodmin Moor

  Devil of the Highlands

  Devil in a Red Coat

  Halloween

  The Curiosity Shoppe (Sequel to A Curious Affair)

  Timeless

  Nevermore: The Last Divine Book

 

 

  kFrom.Net


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