by Egon Grimes
“Rosalind?” he whispered and raced back to his bedroom to dress.
—
A group of nurses loaded the brittle old woman into the back of Vanessa’s 1980 Bell Ranger III helicopter and she was off. It was easy money. Which was good, because she was dog tired.
She’d flipped and tossed in her sleep. It was bad. It was dark. A man threw her around, never really doing much harm, but he promised, he promised he’d come back if she didn’t get her ass in gear.
The old woman in back didn’t talk and although her eyes stayed open, Vanessa didn’t figure she had any clue of where she was. Vanessa called in the decent. The Timmins hospital grew larger and larger until it was a life-sized reality.
The quiet old lady moved from the back of the helicopter and onto a gurney, Vanessa left the propellers spinning. She smiled and waited until everyone cleared away, she lifted back into the air, back to the south, a little closer to civilization.
She blinked and remembered the man from her dream. It made her stomach hurt. She shook her head and closed her eyes. “Get outta here,” she said.
Her eyes opened and she heard a voice. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I’d like to be the big man, but you can have it your way.” It was his voice, the man from her dream.
Rotating her head, she scanned the cabin: alone. She closed her eyes and exhaled a heavy breath.
“I’m tellin’ ya, lady. I want to be the big man. You want me to be the big man, the better man, don’t you?”
Vanessa shook her head. “No, please.” Her world seemed ready to crumble. Crazy pilots never got anywhere, grounded.
“Just do as I say and you can fly another day, don’t be such a stupid bitch, you remind me of my wife. She never listened either.”
“Okay, okay,” Vanessa mouthed, only a peep coming out.
“Good, turn around.”
“Okay, all right.”
Within an hour, she found a crew working steadily on a caved mountainside. She couldn’t explain it. She powered down and approached. A conservation ranger turned and shouted at her as she drew near on foot, “Just a minute, we’ll get them out! Who sent you?”
“Huh?”
“Me, I got the little girl,” the ranger said.
“Me too,” said an officer as he wiped sweat from his dirty brow.
“Lou, Lou made me come,” she said, holding back fearful tears.
Two men stated that they also got Lou. A woman explained that Rosalind told her and six other stated they just came, leave it at that.
The rag-tag rescue team removed two ragged bodies from the cave, both alive and, for the most part, in good shape. Some spoke of their dreams, some even to local newspapers. It found national attention but fizzled.
63
The month following the unbelievable events felt a cakewalk to Maurice, although his partner had died, his wife had to stay in the hospital for treatment, and the news people prodded him, it was all smooth going. Nary a monster or fortune-teller in sight.
Two weeks after the rescue, he finally dreamed of Rosalind again and in his dream, she ran and played with hundreds of other children, ones he’d seen on milk cartons, ones found dead at crack houses, all happy. Everything was right for the first time in a long time.
Rosalind hopped off the swings and ran. “Daddy, I’m better now, see,” she stuck out her tongue, “got it back.”
“I see that, honey. Come give Daddy a hug.”
“All right, but this is the last time.” She opened her arms. “And don’t worry anymore, I’m okay now.”
Maurice squeezed as tightly as he could and Rosalind disappeared. “Good bye, honey,” he whispered and then woke. He sobbed happily, as he smoked his last three cigarettes.
Chester from Raw Daily demanded an explanation and had hounding down to a science. Finally, Maurice gave in, explained the events in entirety and waited, with a smile knowing not even a rag like Raw Daily would print something so fantastic. “Too much for you?”
Chester sighed. “Either you’re full of it or you’ve lost your mind.” He hung up and never called again.
On the day Rhoda could come home, Maurice left Ruby with her grandmother. Thinking as he drove, his family could finally move on, no more talk of death, he’d leave the force too, take a job as track security or something at the speedway.
The sun glinted off the hood of his replacement Jeep. He thought about Lou, he thought about Denise; she’d picked things up pretty quickly with Chuck Nagel. He missed Lou, but that was an easy one in comparison to losing a daughter.
It was mid-morning when Maurice entered the hospital waiting room and Rhoda’s doctor recognized him. “Mister Genner, she’s patched up and ready to go. It was a bit tricky, but after we figured out the anomaly in her blood test, it all worked out, we just had to change things a little. But it’s squared. Best hurry, I know Rhoda wants to tell you something.”
Maurice nodded. “Thanks.” He got to her room and she sat on the bed, grinning. “Well what is this anomaly?”
Rhoda clapped her hands. “I’m pregnant!”
“Amazing, when are you due?”
“Still almost nine months, that’s why they couldn’t tell what the problem was right away, it was so early.” She pulled Maurice close and leaned in to whisper. “I think maybe Rosalind’s come back, I mean, I mean we haven’t had sex in months,” she whispered with shifty eyes, “but I think she got out and somehow got into my womb. Of course, we can’t call her Rosalind. What would my mother say about that one?”
Rhoda continued to talk; Maurice didn’t hear any of it.
My brother soiled your wife, my brother soiled your wife, my brother soiled your wife! The words repeated over and over, taunting him.
“Maurice, are you listening?”
“Sure,” he said and took her arm. He led her out of the hospital.
Rhoda almost burst with excitement and so did Ruby, happy to hear about a new brother or sister—Rhoda said she was certain it was a girl—either was fine.
Maurice listened, or attempted to, but all he could think about were the monsters in the caves and the evil thing that might lurk inside his wife.
My brother soiled your wife.
Contents
FATHER OF THE DECEASED
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