One Blink From Oblivion

by Mark Curtis Bullock

  Brooke practically spits her next words at Alia, “We’re not infected, and I would rather die than become one of those things.”

  A voice like a growl joins their conversation with a threatening reply, “Fear not little one. Your wish is my command.”

  Chapter 15 – Stages

  The freeway-man is sitting up straight with yellow eyes wide and staring directly at Brooke. She turns her head to look at him and reflexively averts her gaze from his disfigured face and those piercing yellow eyes like a galaxy of supernovas rocketing toward her at the speed of light and threatening to burn right through to her soul.

  Max flexes against his restraints in a futile attempt to shield Brooke from the freeway-man’s haunting gaze.

  “Patience, patience,” the savage growls at Max at slightly more than a whisper, “I’m saving you till last for what you did to me. Your strength will be my strength. The despair you feel after watching me drink your lovely lady will make your blood taste… oh so sweet.” He tilts back his head and closes his eyes while imagining the ecstasy. “I think I’ll suck your veins completely dry. I know gluttony is a sin but it would be a shame to waste a drop of such sweet honey.”

  Beginning to feel like a caged and tormented animal, Max lunges against his chains again, “The only thing you’re gonna’ suck is the barrel of my shotgun!”

  The freeway-man’s eyes widen even more as he sits forward and raises his voice several decibels, “What shotgun? I see nothing here between us but air, and time…Soon I will rob you of both.”

  Brooke screams out, “Why us, why can’t you just leave us alone?”

  “Because my dear,” Alia speaks, but something about her voice has changed, “he has your scent now. No matter where you go or what you do, like a carnivorous beast, he will hunt you down.”

  The last of her words sound as though she is struggling to form them, and just as the last syllable is spoken, she erupts into a screech so loud in the confined space of the truck that it leaves everyone’s ears ringing.

  The freeway-man throws his head back, bathing in the wretched squall, as do the other infected in the back of the transport truck. Another is added to their ranks and they all bask in her birth. For the moment, it seems they are all connected, spiritually, sexually, and perhaps even telepathically.

  Max and Vinny look upon the scene in horrific curiosity while Brooke shrinks from the sound and sight before her.

  “Hey,” Vinny yells to the driver, “these things are freekin’ out back here!” but over the roar of the engine the driver apparently hears nothing because the vehicle neither slows nor stops. “How could they just leave us back here alone with these crazy shits?” he asks of Max.

  Max looks down at his blood soaked shirt, “Look at us. We’re covered in infected blood. If you saw someone that looked like us you would be cautious too.”

  Brooke looks herself over. She is indeed covered in blood nearly head to toe. The whirlwind pace up to this point had kept her in an emotionally numb state. Now sitting still with a moment to reflect, her numbness begins to ebb, and the absolute horror of it all begins to trickle in.

  Brooke struggles against her restraints and in a panic yells out, “I’ve got to get out of this blood. I can’t take it any more. I’ve got to get out of these clothes, out of this damn truck.”

  Max watches Brooke and searches for the right words to ease her emotions but can find none. He’s always been a man of action and few words. Maybe if he confesses his feelings for her she will calm down enough to listen. Maybe if he tells her the truth about his past it will shock her back to numbness. Either method might be effective but this is not the time or place for such words.

  Vinny -who is definitely a man of many words- unfortunately picks some inappropriate ones to try and bring levity to the situation, “I’d be glad to help you out of those clothes.” He says under his breath and with a heavy smirk.

  Brooke’s eyes widen with rage, “Is that all you ever think about? Is that all I am to you, a piece of ass for you to pursue? Well let me put you out of your misery, not before all this shit happened, not now in the back of this truck covered in blood, not ever! In fact, you have a better chance screwing that freak over there,” she nods in the direction of the freeway-man who seems to be enjoying her diatribe, “than you would with me.”

  Vinny’s face is filled first with shock that such words would even come out of Brooke’s mouth, but the shock is quickly replaced by anger and embarrassment.

  He spits words across Max at Brooke, “So I guess Zack was right. Maybe I need a tan to get with you. I bet you wouldn’t say any of that shit to brother man here. I bet you’d trip over your panties trying to jump on his lap if he let you.”

  Max is hearing little of the argument that is being volleyed across his face. He instead is fixated on the infected’s reaction to it. They all seem to be enjoying the yelling match immensely. A couple of them are even starting to pull against their restraints as if being drawn into the angry discussion like a black hole.

  Brooke fumes, “You bastard! Maybe if you were half the man Max is you would have a chance!”

  Vinny nods his head and continues to speak of Max as if he’s not there, “Bullshit! What do you know about Max? You put him on this pedestal, but truth is if you knew him like I do we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

  Max watches the infected as the yelling whips them nearly into frenzy. ‘What if one of those things breaks loose? We would all be dead in an instant.’ He rationalizes what he dreads but knows he must do. If the situation isn’t diffused, they could have a truck full of overly excited biters on their hands. He searches for the courage to proceed and inwardly says a final goodbye to the idea of him and Brooke ever being together.

  “I murdered my father.” Max speaks coolly, in stark contrast to the screaming match around him.

  The argument comes to an abrupt halt and Max’s friends fixate on him.

  He drops his head low and speaks slowly and softly, “I was just a kid. My dad was a mean old son of a bitch. He had all these life lessons that he liked to teach. He would begin each lesson with a slap just to make sure I was listening. The beatings came frequently and without warning, but you know what, I dealt. I was a kid. What was I gonna’ do? My mother though… when he hit her…she would try to fight back. It was no use. He would beat her like a grown man… ball up his huge fist and slam it into her face over and over again until she was unrecognizable. Her eyes would swell shut, and sometimes so much blood would pour from her mouth that I thought she might drown. I would try to stop him but he was a big powerful man twice my size. He flung me like a rag doll. Soon as he was done with her, he would come after me. I would just curl up in a ball while he wailed on me and pray for the beating to be over. But at the same time, when he would turn on me, I would be thankful. Thankful it was me instead of her… at least for a little while.”

  Brooke’s eyes are wide and beginning to tear. She wants so much to wrap her arms around Max’s neck and tell him it’s okay to just let it out. She’s waited so long for him to open up to her. She’s not sure why he picks now of all times but she is grateful to share in his grief. Pain paints his features and she feels like she is seeing his true face for the first time.

  “Something you may have figured out about my dad is that he was a career criminal… dealer, gun runner, thief, enforcer, probably a hit man and eventual pimp. Around my thirteenth birthday, he decided it was time for a new revenue stream. He had never allowed my mother to work; too many bruises brought too many questions. She begged him to let her do anything that was honest. I know now, that was more for my benefit than hers. She wanted me to see that there was another way, that I could blaze my own path and not follow in my father’s footsteps. It drove him crazy. Eventually he did find something for her to do though. At first, it was just with his high dollar contacts, suppliers, and crooked cops. But,” Max pauses for a moment as his voice cracks and a single tear cuts a salty pa
th down his left cheek.

  He slumps noticeably in his restraints as if the weight of the memory is too heavy a burden for his physical being, “but, after a while the money got too good to him and he started… he started… there were so many; crack heads, business men, truck drivers, anyone who could pay. At first, I didn’t understand what was happening. I thought things were getting better because he stopped beating her. She was a beautiful woman when her face was in one piece. Turned out he just didn’t want to damage his merchandise. No trick wanted to be with a woman that had been slapped around unless he was the one doing the slapping. They couldn’t get enough of her. She made him more money than all his other hustles put together. But, of course, she was miserable. She used to pick fights with him. I think she was hoping he would hit her and mess up her face so she wouldn’t have to work for a while.”

  Vinny’s head hangs low. These are details that even he never knew and he feels like an ass for trying to use Max’s past as a wedge between he and Brooke.

  The biters are starting to settle from the fervor of moments ago, but now -caught up in a bitter memory and past the point of no return- Max continues on without noticing.

  “It broke her down, stole her spirit.”

  He pauses a moment and shakes his head, “It killed me to see her that way. It seemed like she aged twenty years almost overnight. She wanted to leave, but his grip on us was absolute. Maybe one of us could have made it out alive but the both of us together? It was impossible. She used to beg me to leave without her, to run far away. She would tell me, ‘you need to go find someplace safe; someplace he or even I can never find you. You’re a smart boy; you know the streets, use that knowledge to get out of this place and never look back.’ I hated her for that. How could she ask her only child to leave? I thought she was weak and just didn’t want the burden of a child anymore. I was young and so naive. I didn’t realize how much love and strength it really took for her to say that to me. Anyway, I couldn’t do it. The thought of leaving her alone with him was too much. If I weren’t there, he would go too far and kill her for sure next time. Big Mama tried to help us but there was little she could do. He told her if she interfered with his family, he would kill us both and I’m sure he meant it. She tried the cops, but he was either protected or they just didn’t give a damn. They would pretend to investigate, but papers would get shuffled and lost. A report would never be filed, and every time she went in, they would act as if it was the first time they’d heard her complaint. I’m sure being a black family in the hood didn’t help either.”

  “My mother got so low that she kind of disappeared inside of herself. I guess when you’re trapped like she was, the only true escape is inward. She wouldn’t eat. She even stopped talking for a while. He used to tell her he liked her better that way. He would say, ‘That’s right; keep your big mouth shut until a trick tells you what to do with it. Women should be seen not heard anyway.’ He would force feed her to keep her appearance up but she was slowly dieing inside. The light was leaving her eyes, and with it the will to live. One night, when my dad was passed out drunk, she came into my room and woke me. She told me she loved me and wanted me to promise her that no matter what happened I would fight to be the man she knew I could be. I was so blind… I was so surprised to even hear her voice after so long that I just told her yes and went back to sleep without stopping to think why she would say that.”

  Max stops abruptly and turns his head to wipe his cheek on the shoulder of his shirt. He sits quietly, debating whether or not he should continue. After a few moments he does.

  “The next morning when I woke up, I called for her and searched the house. She never answered, but eventually I found her. She was lying in the bathtub with a needle hanging from her arm. I tried to wake her for so long. I shook her and shook her. I yelled at her, even slapped her face… but her cold eyes just kept staring back at me, all the life gone out of them.”

  Tears now stream freely down Max’s face and wet the collar of his shirt.

  “I wanted to cry so badly, but the tears just wouldn’t come. I was like a balloon stretched beyond capacity, and all I wanted to do was pop and relieve the pressure… but all I could feel was rage and hatred…” He shakes his head as he continues.

  “You know he didn’t even have a funeral for her. He just bribed the guy at the cemetery with some stepped-on heroin to burry her without a casket in an unmarked grave. He told me she was a sinner and that was all she deserved… said she went to hell with the rest of the sinners and that the two of us would be back together with her soon enough. You know what, that was the first time I’d ever agreed with him. He was going to hell for sure, and without my mother’s guidance, I was sure to follow close behind him. I waited a couple of months… felt like an eternity… just me and him in that torn up little house staring at each other like each of us was waiting for the other to make a move. Surprisingly he didn’t lay a hand on me but it always felt like he was just on the verge. After a while, the tension eased a bit. The whole time, I just kept remembering a lesson my mother had taught me once but apparently had never learned for herself… patience, ‘be patient…’ she would tell me, ‘opportunity will always find you if you can just be patient’. And so that’s what I did. I waited for opportunity to find me, and one night –just like she said- it did. He came home in a worse mood than usual. I think one of his dirty cops had slapped him around a bit, because his payments had gotten light since my mother’s death. He was pissed. He broke what little we had, throwing whatever he could, kicking whatever he couldn’t. I just covered up in the corner behind the couch and hoped he wouldn’t find me, just in case he decided to break me too. After a while, he found a bottle of Jack that my mother had hidden from him. He thought about breaking that for a second, but instead got drunk off his ass.”

  “After a long while, he passed out on the couch. I was still hiding behind it and I was so close I could smell his breath -thick with alcohol. I knew if I was ever gonna’ keep my promise to my mom then it was time to man up. It had to be now. I was too afraid to move and wake him up so just like he taught me I used what was available. I pulled a broken support wire from under that old raggedy couch. I worked it back and forth until it came loose from the wood. I made a big circle in one end…”

  Brooke, realizing where Max is going finds herself unable to look him in the eye any longer and she drops her gaze to the floor.

  “I made a noose and I slipped it over his head and around his neck. I braced my feet against the back of the couch and pulled against the loop of wire as hard as I could.”

  Max’s face is now free of tears; his fury with his father is even now so hot that they seemingly evaporate before they can drop. He lifts his head and stares straight through the infected occupant across from him and out into the past, and for a moment he is back there, back in that small-disheveled living room with his feet braced against the couch…slowly choking the life out of his father. A new expression has taken over his face, a look of disgust.

  “I pulled harder and harder and that metal noose got so tight around his neck that by the time he woke up and realized what was happening there was nothing he could do. His eyes bulged and started to turn red. He tried like crazy to get his fingers between the wire and his neck but he couldn’t. After a while, he stopped struggling and I stopped pulling. I walked around to the front of the couch so I could watch the light extinguish from his eyes. He had kicked his legs and scratched at his throat until it bled, but he did it all without a sound. He died without a voice just like my mother.”

  Max pauses for a long time before he is able to continue.

  “Big Mama… I called her. I didn’t know what to do. I was too angry and stupid to have given any forethought about what would happen to me after I killed him. All I knew is that it had to be done. In a mad perversion of my mother’s lesson, I saw my opportunity and I took it. I called Big Mama and she came right over. It was late at night, real quiet in the neighborhood. When
she came in and saw my dad dead and figured out how he got that way, she just stood and cried for a while. I was angry and confused. I thought she would be happy he was gone. I didn’t realize at the time but now I know, she was crying for me not him.”

  “After a minute she turned to me and said, ‘this is what we goin’ to do’. She was so calm and could see everything so clearly. I remember thinking that I wanted to be like her. She spelled out her plan. The two of us together got him up off the couch and moved him to the middle of the room under the ceiling fan. It was the newest and sturdiest feature in our rickety old house. My dad was too cheap for an air conditioner so he had gotten this ceiling fan on a five-finger discount and installed it himself. Big Mama held him up while I got a chair to stand on. She lifted him as best she could while I wrapped the free end of the wire noose around and around the base of the ceiling fan. Once I was sure it was tight, she let go and we watched him dangle for a bit. Then she proceeded to coach me on what to say when the police arrived. ‘I was in bed asleep when I heard a chair kick over. When I came out to see what was up, I found him just as he was, an apparent suicide out of grief from my mother’s passing.’ After she left, I called the police and you know what, it went just like she said it would. I was still a minor, not to mention way too small to lift him up off the ground. The police never even suspected me. Maybe it was his connections that nobody wanted exposed in a criminal investigation, maybe they just had mercy on me, or maybe no one gave a shit. He was after all, a bastard of biblical proportions and everyone knew it. Either way, I was free to go live with Big Mama and that’s what I did… Until now only she and I knew the whole truth.” Max lifts his head for the first time and says with conviction, “So you see, I’m right where I’m supposed to be. I deserve this shit, like it was made to order, but you two don’t, and neither does Big Mama. I promise I won’t let you down.”