by Jan Tilley
Fischer nodded, and made his way to the vehicle to assist the young policeman. Malachi politely said good-bye to Roberta and the other locals that had gathered at the scene, and headed for home.
Parking Rosie, he leaned his head against the steering wheel, trying to gather his thoughts for a moment. He bounded through the back door, yelling, “Travis, where are you?”
The kid was still locked in the bathroom, afraid to come out. He’d done just as Malachi had asked. He was scrubbed clean and his clothes were neatly placed inside a tied up garbage bag. With only a towel wrapped around his body, he stood in the doorway shivering, partly from the cold, but mostly from nerves.
Malachi rushed to his bedroom and grabbed some clean clothes for Travis to wear. “Sorry kid, it’s all I’ve got. The jeans might be big on you. Here’s a belt, you can tie them up. T-shirts and flannels are all I have.”
Travis shook his head nervously. “That’s fine. I don’t really care.”
Malachi made his way to the kitchen to put the kettle on, as Travis got changed. When he was fully clothed, he made his way to the kitchen, just as Malachi was pouring two mugs of steaming hot chocolate for them.
Travis sat at the table and held the mug with both hands, impatiently trying to get warm. He was shaking so badly that some of the cocoa spilled out of the cup and onto the table. “Are the cops coming here to get me?”
It made Malachi sick to his stomach, when he looked at Travis. The poor kid was so lost, and now this. Malachi felt partly to blame, since it was his idea to scare Junior and give him a taste of his own medicine. He figured it would scare the crap out of him. But, he had no idea that he’d crash his car, or that Travis would react the way he did. He looked at Travis intently, trying desperately to figure him out. “What happened, son?”
His leg began to twitch uncontrollably as he stared into his mug of hot chocolate, afraid to make eye contact. He tried to hold back the emotion, but it came through him anyway. The fresh scars on his face became flush and red. Wrinkles on his forehead appeared with deep creases and tears began to run down the bridge of his nose. His brown curly hair hung disheveled as he shook it in an attempt to hide his face. “I don’t know what happened, I just snapped. I don’t even remember doing it, like it wasn’t me or something.”
“Tell me what happened. Did he say something to you?”
Travis nodded. His leg was shaking so badly that the entire table began to vibrate. “He talked shit to me. Then, he started talking about my mom. Said he was gonna hurt her.” Travis looked into Malachi’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I lost control. All the years of him beating on me and everyone else, all the shit he’s said to me, it just all boiled inside me and I lost it. I couldn’t stop.” Travis laid his forehead on the table and crossed his arms around the back of his head, openly sobbing. His shoulders heaved with every breath.
Malachi took a deep breath and sighed. He could see the hurt scared little boy inside Travis and it broke his heart to watch him. Patting Travis on the back, he tried to comfort him. “There, there now. It’ll be okay, son.”
Travis continued to cry. He banged his fist against the table and shook it hard. Then he began to hit himself in the head.
Malachi grabbed his hand to stop him. “Alright now, that’s enough. Come on. It’s okay to feel bad. You need to let it out, but I will not sit here and tolerate you hurting yourself, Travis.”
With his head still on the table, he cried, “What’s gonna happen to me, Malachi? I’m scared.”
“Travis, let’s talk, okay?” He waited for a moment, collecting his thoughts, and then continued, “Look at me, son.”
Lifting his head from the table, Travis grabbed a napkin and blew his nose. Malachi could barely see his face through all the hair. He brushed it aside and looked into Travis’s eyes. The pain shone through so vividly. He knew that he was partly to blame for this accident. That’s all it was, a horrible accident. As he looked into Travis’s brown eyes, he could see nothing but fear and knew that he had to help him.
“Travis, I feel like this is my fault just as much as it is yours. We were trying to pull a prank and it went horribly wrong. Junior Barnett was scum. I’m not trying to justify what happened, but maybe the world’s a better place without him in it. You understand that you went too far and what you did was wrong, right?”
Nodding his head, Travis’s lip began to quiver. He sheepishly replied, “Yeah, I do. I screwed up.”
“Okay, now. What we need to do is keep a level head and clean this mess up so no one gets in trouble. The cops see it as a horrible accident. His injuries were horrendous. They think he died in the crash.” Sternly, he looked at Travis and continued, “And we, my young friend, will let them believe just that. If you look at me and tell me that you know this was wrong and that you’re sorry for what happened, I promise that I will do everything in my power to help you.”
Travis looked deeply into his blue eyes with surprise. He’d never had anyone on his side before. He was always on his own, lost and confused. Shaking his head, he replied, “What? You’d do that for me? Why?”
Malachi nodded. “Travis, I will help you any way that I can. You are my friend, and it was an accident. That’s all it was, right?”
Nodding in disbelief, Travis said, “Yeah. I know that it was wrong.” Wiping the tears from his cheek on his sleeve, he continued, “Thank you so much for helping me. I’m really sorry.”
Malachi winked at him. “Okay, then. I have a bit of burning to do tonight. You stay here and get warmed up. I’ll be back in a jiffy. No phones, understood?” Rubbing his scruffy chin with his stumpy finger, he looked sternly into Travis’s eyes and continued, “When I get done, I’ll take you home. You must promise to never, ever whisper a word of this to another soul, is that understood?”
Travis nodded and grabbed his mug with both hands, still trying to warm up. “Yes, sir.”
With a serious face and a nod, Malachi slapped his knees and said, “Alright then, off to work.” He grabbed the bag from the bathroom and headed out back to his burn barrel. He lit some newspapers and tossed the garbage bag on top. The plastic began to sizzle as it melted and black smoke billowed out of the can.
He opened the shed door and grabbed the dummy doll in one arm. He readjusted the load and picked up the additional trash bag which contained the murder weapon; the log. As the first bag began to smolder down inside the barrel, he chucked in the second and then the dummy to top it off.
Malachi’s mind raced as he thought to himself, “What have I forgotten? Have I overlooked anything?” As he looked down, he realized that his own clothes had blood on them. That would be understandable because he had assisted the victim, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He emptied out his pockets and stripped down to his socks and skivvies. Chuckling at his own chicken legs, he tossed the clothes into the fire. He stood close and warmed his body by the fire. Lost in thought, he watched the flames dance as they assisted him in destroying the evidence. He stared at the barrel until the flames had simmered down to nothing but hot embers.
The evening chill caught hold of his flesh as soon as he stepped away from the fire. He hurried into the mill and stopped at his bedroom to put on some fresh clothes. Grabbing a thick flannel to warm his body, he made his way to the kitchen where he found Travis in the exact same position as he’d left him. Staring off into the distance, he appeared to be in a deep trance. Washing his hands thoroughly in the sink, he watched Travis and broke the silence. “You okay, son?”
Travis sat down his mug, looked over at him, and replied, “Grand and dandy.”
His chipper words with the gloom and doom face made Malachi snicker. “Travis, let’s talk for a moment.” Pulling up a chair next to him, he began to question him. “Did anyone else know that you were coming out here with Junior tonight?”
Travis shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Jeremy’s the only other one that really hangs out with Junior. He’s gone
this weekend, visiting his dad in prison.”
“What about your mom?”
“Nope, working all weekend.”
“Okay, now think… did anyone see you guys together? Did you stop anywhere before you came here?”
Travis thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No. I don’t remember seeing anyone, and we didn’t stop anywhere.”
Malachi nodded. “Good. That’s good. Now, this entire plan will fall into the crapper if you say anything to anyone, okay? You can’t even act like you know that it happened. Be surprised when someone tells you about poor Junior, got it?”
“Yeah, I understand. Do you think that this is really gonna work?”
“I don’t see why not. As long as we play dumb about it. All the evidence is gone.” He placed a firm hand on Travis’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Look, son. It was a bad thing that happened. Sometimes anger creeps up on you, especially with someone like Junior Barnett. But, there is no reason why you should be made to suffer for the rest of your days. I think Junior made you suffer for long enough. In an odd way, maybe he did get what was coming to him.”
Shaking the boy’s shoulder, he reaffirmed his words, “Do you understand me? Mum’s the word.”
Travis took a deep breath and nodded. He looked into Malachi’s eyes and said, “Thank you. This means a lot to me. No one’s ever looked out for me like this before.”
Malachi sat back in his chair and sighed. The memories of his own torment flooded back to him and he knew how the kid felt. “Travis, can I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
His eyes grew somber as he searched for the right words. “A long time ago, I had a son. He, and my beautiful wife Mera were killed back in 1980. They were hit head on, at almost the same spot where Junior died tonight.”
Travis looked at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry.” He nervously began to play with his tongue piercing.
“Me too. A tourist was driving too fast for the curve in the road and smashed right into them.” Malachi’s face became an ashen gray color as he spoke. “I was working out front when I heard the crash.” He shook his head as the memories rushed over him. “Horrible sound. To this day, it wakes me up some nights in terror.”
Still shaking his head, he continued, “They both died almost instantly, as did the driver of the other car. Lukas, my son, was only six years old.” Breathing deeply, and wringing his hands, he stared at the floor with pain overflowing in his eyes. “He was my baby boy. It just about broke me, Travis. Thank goodness that my mama was still here then or honestly, I swear I’d be with them right now.”
He wiped a tear from his cheek with the stub of his index finger and looked at Travis, trying to make sense of it all. “Moral of the story: shit happens.”
Travis grinned. He couldn’t help it. It was totally inappropriate, but he couldn’t stop himself. As hard as he tried to hold it back, he began to laugh. Then he looked at Malachi and apologized, “I’m so sorry. That was really rude of me.”
Malachi waved his hand. “Laughter is good for the soul and it’s never rude to me. Travis, I was angry for so many years. Ugly angry. Festering deep in my soul, spiteful mad.” He leaned in close. “I know all too well what it feels like to hold that kind of anger inside. When it comes out, it rages, sometimes uncontrollably. I get it.”
With a reassuring grin, he said, “I also feel like this is a second chance in some strange way. Lukas was taken from me at that spot on Witch’s Bend and tonight, there was a very good chance that you would also lose your freedom, because of a stupid mistake.” Shaking his head vehemently, he scowled and said, “Not on my watch. I just can’t allow that to happen. Let’s be smart now and use this to our advantage. Learn from your mistakes and be wise, Travis. You have your entire life ahead of you. Don’t waste it on something stupid, like Junior Barnett.”
Travis extended his hand to Malachi. “Thank you. I can never repay you for all you’ve done for me. I’ll try my best not to let you down.”
Malachi shook his hand firmly and smiled. “That’s all anyone can ask, son. Now, let’s get you on home.”
The drive into Canal Fulton was solemn. Both men were deep in thought as the events from the day played and replayed in their minds. Malachi parked out front of the apartment building. It was very late and cold, no one was left loitering outside. Malachi nodded at Travis. “Remember what I said. Use your head, Travis. This too shall pass, just lay low and think before you speak.”
“Thanks, Malachi. I appreciate the ride and everything else, too.”
“No problem, son. I’ll see you soon.”
As he watched Travis make his way up the staircase and unlock the door, his heart grew heavy. Could they make this work? Would they get away with it? Even though it was Travis who’d done the killing, Malachi was now an accomplice. He had to do everything in his power to protect Travis. It wasn’t his fault, he just snapped. Malachi knew that feeling. When the pain and anger rages inside you for that long, as soon as the doorway opens just a crack, it can burst wide open in an uncontrollable surge that no one could have predicted.
In some odd way, Malachi felt like he’d been given his son back. He knew that Travis wasn’t technically his son, but he could still get a second chance and help the young man. He could be a part of his life. Malachi had a lot to teach and Travis had a lot to learn. Life is hard, maybe somehow, they could help each other.
Nine
Two weeks went by and Travis never came to visit. Malachi had grown accustomed to seeing him almost every day. He sat out front of his store in an old rocking chair watching his angel plant flourish in the sunlight. Although he understood why Travis might be keeping his distance, he still missed the kid terribly.
What a shame. How could life take such a horrible turn like this? They’d had so much fun setting up the cryptics to scare Junior. It was a perfect plan. Malachi beat himself up, he should have anticipated that an inexperienced driver might react that way. They didn’t take into account the high rate of speed at which he was traveling or the amount of alcohol in his system. These were all factors that Malachi felt he should have been prepared for.
He read the paper and watched the news everyday. The coverage didn’t last long. The reporters said, “Local teen was killed in a single vehicle accident Saturday night. He was traveling at a high rate of speed and alcohol is believed to be a factor.” It appeared to be all Junior’s fault and nothing more was ever said, publicly anyway.
The funeral had been held on the following Thursday. Malachi wondered if Travis had gone to it. He wished that he could have been there for him, but knew that the best thing was to keep their distance from each other right now and act like it never happened. Sitting alone in a dimly lit room, his mind wandered as he worried about Travis and wondered how he was handling it all. An emotional trauma like this can bring up feelings you’re not prepared for and have no idea how to handle.
The nightmares had started again. Malachi thought he was over all that. But, somehow the crash with Junior vividly brought back that foggy evening in July of 1980. Malachi was outside working on the bridge. Mera had run into town to pick Lukas up from a birthday party. The tourist was speeding on a narrow blind curve. His car went left of center and hit Mera’s head on. Even though his family was their seatbelts, they were killed.
Lukas died instantly, sustaining a severe blow to the head. There was no pulse when Malachi arrived on the scene, but Mera was still alive. He’d heard the crash from the mill and took off running. He’d never forget that sound. The crushing metal, breaking glass and the screams of pain and anguish. Those were the memories that still haunted him.
But, what disturbed him even more was the sight of his family. The blood and suffering. Mera reached out for Malachi. Her legs were pinned under the dashboard when the front-end was smashed backwards into their seats. The steering wheel was pressed firmly against her chest and as hard as Malachi tried, he could not free her from the wreckage. Every t
ime he would try to move her, she screamed out in excruciating pain.
The driver of the other car was still alive and begging for someone to help him. Malachi stayed with his family, desperately trying to release the grasp of the twisted metal from Mera. Realizing he couldn’t do it, he kissed her forehead and said, “Hang on, honey. I’m gonna go call for help. I’ll be right back.”
Racing back to the mill, he grabbed the phone and called for an ambulance. By the time he got back to Mera, she was gone. She was peacefully quiet, no longer suffering in pain. He shook her, desperately trying to wake her up, but she never did.
Malachi fell down beside the car, pounding his fists into the dirt and crying out to the sky. “Why, God? How could you allow this to happen? I’m begging you to bring them back. Please!” Malachi’s prayers went unanswered.
The driver of the other car was still coherent and crying out for help. “I’m trapped. Something’s stuck in me. Help me, please.” He pleaded with Malachi. Then, his car caught on fire and began to burn.
Malachi was beyond distraught with emotion. He couldn’t even move. He sat paralyzed by shock and watched the man suffer in pain, never lifting a finger to help him. How could he? For some reason Malachi couldn’t justify trying to help the man who’d just murdered his beloved family. He sat idly by, almost willing pain on the man, hoping that he would suffer and wishing he would die. Flames engulfed the car. The man screamed out and within just a moment or two, he was silenced. Somehow it gave Malachi a feeling of satisfaction at the time, but the image of that man suffering still haunted him.
Malachi couldn’t move. He was left behind, sitting on the ground beside his family’s car, holding what was left of his heart in his hand and cursing out loud at the only God he’d ever known.
When the ambulance finally arrived, they found Malachi gently stroking his son’s hair, telling him how much he loved him. It was a heartbreaking scene.
That was the worst night of Malachi’s life. He fought the nightmares for years, barely getting any sleep. Roberta was actually the one consistent person who would stop by and check on him. He never forgot her kindness. Some days, she would even tend to his plant for him or help out in the store when the darkness set in. Sometimes it was just too much and he had to be alone. He couldn’t face anyone and would take off into the woods for days on end.
