by John Locke
“Wh-what are you doin’?” I manage to say.
“I’m going to take you to my fishing camp,” he says. “You’ve never been there, but it’s real nice. You want the itinerary? I’m going to fuck you all night long. And when you’re completely fucked out, I’m going to take you for a boat ride and sink you three hundred feet into the bottom of Kentucky Lake. By this time tomorrow, your pretty head will likely be in a catfish’s belly, and your feminine parts will be working their way through the digestive tract of a giant paddlefish.”
I get out a nice scream before he slams the trunk door shut, but I doubt it was loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
He starts the car and all I can think about is how lucky I am.
I take a minute to thank the good Lord for providin’ such a hot night for my abduction, and for puttin’ me in the trunk of a car with a broken air conditioner.
As he starts the car, I remove my blouse and tie it around my face.
Then brace myself for the comin’ impact.
I feel the car backin’ up, movin’ slowly down the driveway. Feel it turn, stop, then lurch forward as Sheriff Boyd puts it in gear. Feel the right turn that leads to the open road. Feel the speed pick up. Hear the sheriff scream as the wind comin’ through the open windows stirs up the blindin’ powder on the floorboard. Feel the car losin’ control. Feel it swerve off the road and pitch forward, as if we’re goin’ downhill. Feel it crash into somethin’ sturdy.
58
When I open my eyes I hear a lady’s voice say, “Do you know where you are, sweetheart?”
I say, “If it ain’t heaven, it’s gotta be Starbucks.”
“It’s Starbucks County Hospital, dear,” she says. “According to our records, this isn’t your first time.”
“I’ve never made it past Starbucks yet,” I say, “though I’ve tried eight times.”
“You were in a terrible automobile accident. It’s a miracle you survived. You’re a very fortunate young lady.”
“What did we crash into?”
“I’m told you struck a tree.”
“What about Sheriff Boyd?”
“He didn’t make it.” She pauses, then says, “I probably shouldn’t have told you that. Were you close to the Sheriff?”
“Not really. But I think he was hopin’ I’d open up to him more.”
She nods. “He was a good man.”
“He’ll be missed,” I say.
“Do you know your name, hon?”
“Trudy. Trudy Lake.”
“Good. Now that you’re awake, I’ll go fetch the doctor.”
“Wait. What about Sheriff Boyd?”
“He didn’t make it.”
“He’s dead?”
“That’s what I’m told.”
She starts to leave.
“Wait,” I say. “Am I okay?”
“You’re fine dear.”
“Did they take out my spleen?”
“Your spleen? No, hon. Why do you ask?”
“I dreamt they removed my spleen, and my husband, who’s really my brother, mounted it above the bed, next to his spleen.”
“Okay, hon, you’re hallucinating. You won’t even remember this conversation in a few minutes.”
“The hell I won’t!”
“I’ll be right back.”
“Wait!”
“Yes?”
“Has anyone contacted Dr. Box? From New York City?”
“Box? What sort of name is that? Just relax, Trudy. You’re still groggy from the medication.”
While waitin’ for the doctor I try to remember what happened. It’s just flashes right now, but I remember bein’ real dizzy and scared. I was havin’ trouble breathin’. Then I realized I still had my blouse tied around my head, and remembered the powder. I kept the shirt there in case the powder was still circulatin’ after the wreck. I kept real still in case the sheriff was alive, and assumed someone would come along directly to offer help. But either time stood still, or everyone who passed by had somethin’ else to do. After what seemed like a long time, I decided to try pushin’ the trunk open. But when I reached up, all I felt was air.
The crash had popped the trunk open.
I staggered out, fell to the ground, and passed out for what might’ve been the second time. When I came to, I realized the car was on an embankment. That’s why no one stopped to help. They couldn’t see us. I made my way up the hill, then untied my blouse and put it on and tried to walk down the road. I don’t remember anyone givin’ me a ride to the hospital, but someone must have, ’cause here I am. I make a mental note to find the good person or people who helped me, so I can give them a proper thank you.
The doctor comes in and says, “I’m honored! You left at one o’clock this afternoon and missed us so much you went out and got a concussion less than twelve hours later. I believe that’s a record. How do you feel, Trudy?”
“I can’t feel my arms and legs. Is that the medication?”
“Excuse me? You’ve lost all sensation?”
“I can’t feel my arms and legs!” I shout.
His face takes on a panicked look.
I wait a moment, then say, “I’m just havin’ fun with you, doctor. I’m fine.”
“Not funny, Miss Lake. Not funny at all.”
The doctor’s wrong. It was funny. I know because when I called Gideon and told him what I said, he laughed hysterically for a whole minute!
Then he said he’ll be here in the mornin’, and won’t leave my side till we’re safe in New York City. Then his voice takes on a smug tone as he says, “I was right about you being in danger, and I was right about the powder. Is there anything you’d like to say to me? Anything at all?”
“Yes.”
“Go on.”
I say, “I can’t believe you fucked my sister!”
Then I hang up before he gets a chance to say anythin’ else.
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