Bus Stop 6691. A Party to Remember

 Normally Paul Jenkins was just like every other guy. Quick to get ready. No primping necessary. But not this time. Not this day. He had taken a very long shower. A long, hot and steamy shower. As the hot water fell on him his muscles started to relax and all the tension that had been building up since he got out of that cab a few hours ago to see if what the old man had told him was true began to fall away. He tried to mentally prepare himself for tonight. He was going to see old friends that he hadn't seen in years. Most of them he hadn't seen since this night. So he must stay calm. He couldn't show surprise. Since the fire and the tragedy he had forgotten about all the little things about his home that he loved. The Italian tiled shower with the massaging shower head. The heated towel rack that warmed your towel as you showered. His old boar bristle hairbrush that he loved running through his hair. All his old clothes that were hanging in the walk in closet. He had picked out a pair of well worn khakis and a navy polo. He slipped on his old Sperry boat shoes and Bam! He looked just like the Paul of old. He had only been downstairs for a few minutes before the doorbell rang and he ran to open the door. He knew it was early and he knew it would be Ronnie and Carol. They were always early. Always the first to arrive. "Hey bud! Whats going on?" asked Ronnie as he faked a punch to Paul's mid section, then grabbed him and pulled him against his chest while giving him a couple manly slaps on his back. "Not much you big goofball" while he delivered a few slaps back. Ronnie and Carol Anderson's story was much like Sarah's and his. Met in college, started dating, fell in love and soon married after graduation. Carol sighed before she said "Hey Paul, how you"? "I"m good Carol, please come on in"."Try not to bruise each other up to bad. I'm going in the kitchen to see if I can help Sarah out. Ronnie, take Paul out with you and bring the food inside will ya"? "Yes dear," Ronnie answered with some pretend sarcasm in his voice. "Come on Paul, give me a hand". "You got it my friend! And Ronnie, it's really good to see you and Carol again". "Ha! We will see if you have that same attitude tonight around 10 when you have to kick us out of the door to get us to leave! You know how those women love to talk". Then it was Paul's turn to give Ronnie a big slap on the back as he grinned sheepishly at his old college friend.

Just as they were finishing up unloading Ronnie and Carols car, Jack and Sandy Thompson from next door walked over. They of course had to walk all the way down their driveway and then back up Paul and Sarah's because of the illegal fence they had installed but today Paul couldn't have cared less  about such trivial things. Jack was carrying a couple big bottles of fine Tennessee whiskey and Sandy had a huge serving platter with something very big and apparently heavy as well on it under the foil judging by her crinkled up nose and faint sounding strains. "Jack, Sandy come on in. Sandy, please let me have that." "You wont have to ask me twice Paul. How are you doing?" she asked before planting a obligatory kiss on his cheek. "I'm good Sandy thanks, it's always a pleasure." Sandy looked over at Ronnie. "Hey Ronnie, how are ya"? "I'm good Sandy. I hope you two are as well". "We are. Carols inside?" Sandy asked. "Yeah, shes in the kitchen helping Sarah. She'll be glad to see you two. It's been a while now". "Yeah, if you only knew how long," Paul thought to himself. This was another memory he hadn't thought of much since the fire. Once a month they would have these big get togethers and they all always took turns hosting them. Mostly it was people from the neighborhood but whoever was hosting that month always asked a few friends that were special to them and most of those friends became monthly guests and even took their turns playing host. Hence the Anderson's. They were good people and everyone liked them. "By gosh, what do you have on this plate Sandy?" "Its a ham and a very big one at that. I don't want to run out like last month so I made sure I got one this time that was big enough." "I think you succeeded," and they all four got a good laugh out of that. "Sandy, open that door and lets get this hog inside," and they all laughed even harder at that.

Soon it was a endless parade of people coming in the door. Rick and Diane Bernstein. Rick was right, Diane had brought a nice surprise.  A case of French shiraz wine. Very expensive and very good. David and Ellen Harkins. David had supposedly gave him the coat he was wearing when he came back to this world. Paul secretly hoped to himself that Rick wouldn't ask him about it. Karen and Tom Chambers. The Adkins. Steve and Jan Cummings, also friends from their old college days. And finally the two who made everyone cringe slightly when they arrived. Carl and Ellen Deming's from down the street. Carl was the the owner of the trashcan where Paul had trashed his coat. Hopefully Carl or Ellen hadn't seen him do it. Carl had to always be the loudest in the group. Anything anyone had done he had done it bigger and better. He was cocky and demanding. And he had a nasty cigar habit, which was good  because of the fact that it kept him outside for a good part of the evening when ever they all gathered together. Occasionally they couldn't make the monthly get togethers and everyone was happy when they couldn't. Alas, this wasn't one of those times.

Two hours later and the party was in full swing. Plates of food devoured. Drink glasses filled. The women were working on the wine pretty good. When their glasses emptied if wasn't long before they were full again. The men stuck with iced down beers and a few mixed drinks here and there. Rick, who had actually worked as a bartender to help pay his way through college, was the one always appointed to be the mix master. While he mixed and the guys imbibed, Carl Demings talked. And talked. And talked. He moaned about the homeowners association and it's lack of enforcement of the neighborhood rules. He complained about his property value being drove into the ground by the un kept yards of his neighbors. He bitched about the government and his plummeting 401K. While he ranted the smokers in the group decided it would be a good time to slip outside and have a smoke. If to many of his audience decided to do this at one time Carl would follow and light up his stogie while continuing on his rant of the moment. Paul would even join them when they would step outside for their light up rituals. Almost every guy in this group was a smoker or a ex smoker. When the smokers lit up the non smokers would ask to bum one and for that night at least, they were smokers as well. "That's what alcohol tends to do to people I guess," Paul thought to himself. He knew he had to attempt to make that commitment to quit soon also but for now, he was good. As he finished his cigarette and Carl started a new topic to talk about Paul excused himself from the group of men. The air was getting chilly and a breeze had kicked up. He knew his son had gone to bed a little while ago and Paul was determined that he was going to slip up and kiss him goodnight and tuck him in before he went to sleep. This was, after all, the last night he had seen his son alive.

Paul turned the doorknob and entered Timmy's room. "Hey dad." "Hey son, I wanted to come up and tuck you in and say goodnight. Did you get enough to eat?" "Yeah, I did. I would have stayed down longer but Mr. Demings talks to loud and makes my head hurt." Paul laughed at that. "Well sonny boy, don't feel bad. He makes my head hurt to! And if you were to ask the other guys down there they would all say the same thing!" "Really dad?" "Yes, really son. What are you reading?" "It's a book about dinosaurs and what they looked like back when they were alive. Did you ever see a dinosaur daddy?" "Uhhh, no I never did Timmy. "Come on, I'm not THAT old," Paul said with a big grin forming on his face. "Almost, but not quite," he said as he rubbed his hand through his sons blondish hair. The boy smiled back to him. "Okay Dad, I believe you." "Listen son, it's getting late and you need to get to sleep." Suddenly out of no where a memory came to him. Tomorrow was Sunday. And one of Timmy's friends from school was having a birthday party and Timmy was invited. Was the kids name Billy? Or maybe Joey? He couldn't remember. How in the world did he ever remember that about the party? "Hey son, remember that you have that birthday party tomorrow afternoon?" "Oh yeah dad! I had forgot about that!" "Who's the party for son, I forgot," Paul asked." "It's for my best friend Devin from school. All my friends from school are supposed to be there. I can't wait! I'm still going right?" Paul paused for a second before he could answer. Four years ago, he was suppose  to go but unfortunately, he didn't make it. Didn't make anything actually after this night. And that made Paul more determined then ever. Determined that his son and wife WOULD wake up tomorrow and would attend that birthday party. There would be a tomorrow and a next day and a day after that. That old man had given him another chance and that old rusty bus had brought him here. This time things would end differently. "Yes son, you are still going. Matter of fact, I will do everything in my power to make sure your at that party. Okay?" "Thanks dad, I love you." "I love you son, turn that light off and get to sleep. I'll see you in the morning." "Okay, goodnight dad." "Goodnight Timmy," and Paul got up and left his son to enter the world of sleep and happy dreams.

Paul slipped down the stairs and entered the kitchen. Sarah and her friends were still going strong.
Empty wine bottles littered the counter top and the women were showing no signs of letting up. "Hey babe," Paul said to Sarah as he slipped his arm around her slender waist. "Hey babe, we were just talking about you. Get in here you big handsome thing you!" and the women all cheered as Paul blushed. "It was all good talk I hope," he answered back. "Nothing but the best baby," as she reached her face back and kissed her husband. "You woman are to much for me. I'm going back outside to join my fellow comrades. Girls, don't talk about us to bad. Remember, we love you." This brought new laughter from the women as Paul flashed a big smile and made his exit.

The big living room was empty. "Hum, guess they are all still outside," Paul thought to himself. And why not. The boys were getting pretty juiced up. The ritual was pretty much drink, bathroom and smoke. Why not just hang out outside and save one of the steps. Outside one can smoke AND drink at the same time. Paul crossed the room and opened the big front door to join his buddies. "Hey guys, I'm back," he said to absolutely no one. The front lawn was empty. Nothing out here except darkness and a few dried, dead leaves riding the breeze that was swirling around the yard. A feeling of unease started building slowly inside the bottom of his stomach. Why, he didn't know. Nothing out of order here. If his friends weren't here then that only meant they were somewhere else. Laughing, drinking, carrying on. But something didn't feel right. It was almost like some kind of internal alarm sounding. Like being on the verge of discovering some thing dreadful. "But what is it," he wondered to himself. "This is stupid. They all probably went out through the garage and are around back. I'm out here giving myself the creeps for nothing." He laughed it off (or tried to) and started towards the driveway and the garage. As he crossed the driveway and turned the corner he was surprised to see the garage door still down. "That's odd. That means they went out the back door that led out to the patio and backyard," he mulled over to himself. And then he heard Carl. Loud, obnoxious, overbearing Carl. Ranting on again over yet another stupid topic that no one really cared about except him. Same old Carl. Always talking, always blabbing on about something. But Carl sounded funny. It was clearly him. But his voice sounded muffled. If it had been anyone else talking Paul would have had to really strain his ears to hear them. Only because it was Carl doing the talking did he know that he was close by but where? He walked slowly along the edge of the closed garage, slinking along in the shadows. As he got close to the end he paused. He could hear Carl a little clearer now and he also heard Rick and some of the others joining in on the conversation as well. That feeling of dread that had been building inside of him since he had walked out the front door was about to explode now. He knew he was about to find the answer to what had happened. How, he didn't know but the fact was cold and grasping him and wouldn't let go of him. With his skin cold and clammy he stuck his head out from the shadows and looked around the house. Just as he knew it would be, the backyard was empty. The only thing that was back there was more darkness and that same breeze. Only now the breeze had taken a threatening tone and instead of sounding calm and gentle it was rushing around and not blowing but hissing! Teasing and taunting him. Daring him to come and see. But there was nothing to see except darkness and shadows. The only light back here was the light coming out from the sliding glass doors that led from the kitchen out to the deck area. In that light he could see the shadows of the women moving back and forth as the enjoyed themselves inside. And there was light coming from the utility room window. The room to the left as soon as you came in from the garage. Paul came around the corner to get a better look at that window. It was up! And he could hear the voices much clearer back here. He could place Ronnie's voice. Then Jack saying something. Carl of course. Him above all the others. There was Rick asking someone if they were ready for a refill. And was that Carl's cigar he could smell? Paul quietly walked along the wall until he was beside the open window. Being cautious so he wouldn't be seen he peered inside the room. Sure enough, all the guys had taken up residency here, in this room. Glasses of booze in one hand, a cigarette in the other. "I guess it was to much effort to walk outside to light up," he thought to himself. Then the next thing he saw knocked the wind out of him like a pop warner football player getting hit by the older, bigger kid who shouldn't have been allowed to be on the team. Laying on top of the washing machine was a smoke detector. A quick glance up and he saw where the detector had been. Where it was suppose to be. And now nothing was in the spot except bare ended wires hanging down out of the ceiling. Suddenly, it all made sense. This is where the fire had started. Hadn't the police report stated that the fire had started back in this area of the house? Yes it had! And now it all made sense. The disconnected smoke detector. Shouldn't the others ones have worked even though this one was disabled? Paul thought he had read that they will but he wasn't sure. Apparently they don't or at least his didn't. For some reason his system didn't respond at all. Hence him waking up from his sound slumber after it was to late. He was jarred from his thoughts when Steve started speaking. "Come on, we better get out of here before Paul catches us in here. He'll be downstairs soon and he'll be upset if he finds us in here." "Agreed!" was the reaction from the group. Except for Carl. "He'll be okay. Heck, he doesn't have a problem smoking in my house." Tom was the next one to speak up. "Come on Carl. You know him and Sarah don't want us smoking in their house. Probably because of the boy. Lets get out of here." "Okay, your right. Let's go. Lets get these glasses and bottles and move to a more suitable area," agreed the man who normally argued with everyone about everything. Ronnie grabbed the glass that they had been using as a ashtray and then asked them "We need to put that smoke detector back up there don't we?" "Leave it for now. Lets make sure the smoke clears out first and we'll get it later. That and the window. We'll just close the door behind us to let it air out until then," answered Carl. And the next thing Paul saw sickened him to his core. Carl laid his cigar on the edge of the dryer so he could grab his empty glass and one of the bottles of booze and followed the guys out of the room. Jack, it looked like, pulled the door shut behind him and the breeze of the closing door blew over the still lit stogie that was balanced over the edge of the dryer and the space between it and the wall. The cigar rocked back and forth on that edge for a second and then took the fateful fall down into the narrow gap and was gone. Carl, in his drunkenness, had forgotten all about it. Rage begin to replace the dread and anxiety he had been experiencing only moments ago. Anger as the realization of what happened that night played out in front of his eyes. Of course they had never gone back in to replace that smoke detector or to close the window. It was forgotten soon after they had left the room. And he had never gone in that room before falling asleep of the sofa after the party. The cigar had lay on the floor and smoldered until a flame was born and that flame grew and keep growing as it consumed that room and then moved up upwards to the ceiling. The ceiling which was directly below his sleeping son's bedroom. That's when the rage and the anger took over. Not caring about being seen anymore, not caring about anything anymore, he flipped up the cover of the garage door keypad and jammed the numbers that made up the code to raise the door. (Amazing, he remembered it was 6 4 3 8 2 1). As soon as the door was high enough that he could duck under he dashed in and made his way to the entrance door to the house. He turned the door handle and flew into the foyer area and barely broke his stride. The utility room door was shut, just as they had left it. Paul ran over and flung open the door and ran inside. He quickly ran over to where the dryer was (and the cigar had been) and dropped down to his hands and knees. He peered underneath the machine and there it was. Lit end down on the floor. The body held up by the wall and the side of the dryer. Small lisps of smoke already gently floating up from the lint on the floor and the linoleum starting to darken. He tried to reach back and discovered his hand was to big to get through the small gap. He jumped up and ran over and retrieved a metal coat hanger from the clothes rack by the wall and quickly untwisted the wire hanger. Pulling it out straight he ran it down the gap and knocked the smoldering cigar over on it's side and then out from beside the dryer. Paul stared down at the thing with horror and shock, like he was looking at pictures of a victim of a grisly murder. Then something inside of him took over and he began to stomp the thing that had taken the life of his wife and son and his you might as well say. His leg moved up and down with a fierce velocity until the only thing left of the murderous object was a sad pile of spent tobacco and the paper that had once held the thing together. As his leg slowed and came to a stop he slowly raised his head and looked at the open door that led to the foyer. Still seething with anger and still trying to piece together what had just happened he headed towards and out that door and into the foyer. He pulled open the door that led out into the living room and stormed in. The ladies had left the kitchen area and had joined the men in the living room. All conversation ceased as they saw the man they once knew as Paul Jenkins come striding across the room staring with a cold and calculated look that scared them all. His eyes burned as if they were on fire. His full attention was solely on Carl who was leaning against the far wall with a fresh gin and tonic and telling yet another story. The story ended abruptly as he saw Paul bounding towards him.  It was Sarah who spoke first. "Honey, whats wrong? Are you oka....." and that's all she got out before he screamed and pounced on his neighbor whom he had never liked and actually down right despised. "You killed my wife and son you S.O.B!" he screamed at the suddenly terrified man as he grabbed him and then started to plummet him with fists that held four years of pain and remorse. The drink went flying and shattered when it hit the wall.  Blood spurted from Carl Demings nose as it took it's turn shattering. Obscenities spewed out of Paul as he continued to reign down blow after blow. None of the others could move. They were to stunned and couldn't take in what they were seeing. Ronnie was the first one who snapped out of it and grabbed his old buddy. "Paul, stop it! What are you doing?" Paul seemed to not hear as the rage continued to flow from him. Good old Carl for once in his miserable life wasn't talking. His face was getting a pretty good makeover. He was not going to be a pretty sight in the morning. Soon the women started screaming. Sarah was the first one to move and ran to his side. "Paul! Quit it! Please!" Ellen was the next one beside him. "Get off my husband you animal! I'm going to call the police!" Soon after, the men regained their senses and wrestled Paul off the bloody, beaten man. It took all seven of them to pull him off and they had their hands full doing it. Paul was like a wild man. Ellen was kneeling down next to her husband, crying and cursing at Paul for what he had done. Steve Cummings, his old pal from college, slapped Paul across the face to try to calm him it down. It worked. Paul's breathing started to slow and made a attempt to return to normal. The anger and the rage was dying down. The men eased their grip on their friend. The women ran over to comfort Ellen who was still on the floor beside her husband crying. Diane ran to the downstairs bathroom to get a towel to try to soak up the blood from Carl's broken and shapeless nose. Now it was Sarah's turn to scream at Paul. "What's wrong with you? What did he do?" Hearing Sarah's voice seemed to jar him back to reality. His friends were looking at him like he was a alien or something worse. Sarah was crying. The women looked scared to death. His neighbor lay on the floor broken and bleeding. "I'm, I'm sorry. You all don't understand. He, he caused a terrible thing to happen and I can't explain it or you all will think I'm crazy." But by the looks on every ones faces they already thought that. And why not think that? He had just beat his neighbor half to death in front of all of them, pretty insane thing to do huh? It was Tom that spoke up next. "What did you mean when you said he killed your wife and son? That doesn't make any sense Paul." His mind raced for the right words. He didn't think telling the truth would be a good thing to do at this moment. Would they believe that this night was a rerun of a night four years ago? That their careless actions had caused a fire that claimed the life of his wife and son? That their deaths had almost killed him as well and for all accounts they pretty much did. And he bet they would just love the part about the old man who he ran into and had told him about the old bus stop where people could go back to fix things that needed fixing. They would love hearing about that bus that arrived to pick him up and bring him back here. The ghostly figure that drove that bus and how he was suppose to be meeting that bus in a few more hours to ride back to where he came from? No, he didn't think it would be a good time to tell the truth. It would be better to try to smooth this mishap over in a way that didn't result in him being carried away in a straitjacket by professionals in white uniforms. "Look, I'm sorry everyone. I went outside looking for you guys and I saw you all in the utility room through the window. I saw Carl's cigar fall down by the dryer and when I went in to check it out it was on the floor still smoldering and I freaked out. What I meant to say was he COULD have killed my wife and son. That's all. I overreacted. I'm sorry. Carl, Ellen, please forgive me." He started towards his neighbors but they reacted as could be expected. "Get away from us! Your crazy! You will be hearing from our lawyer about this and you'll be darn lucky if not also the police! Don't ever come near us again you lunatic!" Ellen shouted at him. She and some of the women had helped Carl to his feet and he was holding the once white towel against his face. The towel was mostly red now, bloody red. His left eye sported quite a shiner. It would be at least a week before that would start to fade. "Paul Jenkins I'll get you for this. I'm going to sue you for every dime you have." Carl managed to say through his swollen and cut lips. Paul suppressed the anger that was starting to build again. This man was responsible for the death of his wife and son but he had to control himself. He had been able to stop the fire from happening and that was the important part. His wife and son were safe. "Go to your doctor and let me have the bill. I'll take care of it. And another thing, when you speak to your attorney make sure you tell them the part about you almost burning down my house because of your reckless negligence. I think that's the term they like to use." "Come on Ellen, lets go." The two started towards the door. Sarah walked with them. "I'm so sorry you two. I'll get your platter back to you soon Ellen." "Keep it and please, just leave us alone," she answered back. "And try to get that man some help," she added as they made their way out the door. After she closed the door she turned back to the remaining party goers. Suddenly no one looked like they were in the partying mood. The night had soured. Jack and Sandy were the next ones to speak up. "Well, it's getting late. We better be going also." Tom and Karen agreed with the Thompson's. They had to be getting home also. "Hey look everybody, again, I'm sorry. I was completely out of control."  A few of them muttered some that's okays but they did it half heartily. Rick put his hand on his friends shoulder and leaned towards him. "You sure your okay buddy?""Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks," he answered back. "Hey," Rick said to him in a low voice so no one else could hear. "Good for you! I never liked that bastard anyway." Paul got a laugh out of that. "Leave it to you Rick. Thank you." "Your welcome my friend and if you need anything you know I'm right here. By the look on Diane's face I'm sure we are going to be the next ones to leave. Good luck with the little lady tonight," and with that he gave Paul a big grin. "Thanks again Rick." "You got it my friend. Diane, you ready? Lets go babe." They joined the rest of the people gathering up their belongs and making their way out of the house. The women all gave Sarah a hug and a kiss on their way out. The men gave Paul a nod and a thank you to Sarah. Steve and Jan were the last ones out of the door. "Are you sure you don't want any help cleaning up," Jan asked her friend. "No, we got it. Thanks for coming and I'm sorry tonight ended like this." "Don't worry about it Sarah. Everything will be good." "Yeah, it will all be good," Paul thought to himself. "Now it will be." Sarah closed the door behind the Cummings. Immediately she turned around to face her husband. "We need to talk." And Paul was so happy to be here to be able to talk.

     Next up is the conclusion of Bus Stop 6691

Bus Stop 6691. Time To Go

As soon as Sarah saw that the Cummings were well down the steps and heading to their car she turned to face her husband. "What was that? Whats wrong with you?" Paul squirmed, unsure which direction to proceed. "I guess I lost control Sarah. I'm sorry." "Sorry? That's all you have to say? You attack our neighbor and beat him half to death in our house and in front of all our friends and all you can say is I'm sorry? We will be darn lucky if the police don't start knocking on that door any minute now! Paul, seriously, what going on here? "I, I overreacted. That's all," Paul answered, trying to regain some credibility. It didn't seem to be working. "Look Sarah, I went outside looking for the guys and when I didn't see them out front I walked around to the back. I saw the window open, I looked in and the guys were in there smoking. That's fine, I didn't care about that but then I saw Carl put his cigar on the edge of the dryer and he walked out and left it there. It fell down beside the dryer and I ran in and grabbed it before it caught something on fire. Fortunately, nothing did but it was close! The lint was starting to smoke and there is a burnt mark on the floor! Plus, somebody had disconnected the smoke detector. Sarah, it was, I mean, it could have been a horrible tragedy." Sarah shot back, "That's still no reason to attack the man and beat him like you did. Paul you scared me. You scared all of us! If any of those people ever want to spend one minute around us again then I'll be shocked. So let me ask you one more time. Whats wrong with you?" He answered her back as calmly and cool as he could. "Nothings wrong with me hon. I love you and Tim and I just got upset when I thought that someones stupidity could result in harm to you or our son. That's it." "I don't think that is all it," Sarah came back at him with. "You've been acting strange ever since you got back from town. First off, you show up here two hours after you left to go there and you were walking. The car that you love and maintain religiously suddenly breaks down and you just leave it and walk back. You show up wearing clothes that I've never seen before. Then you start acting all weird like you haven't seen me in years. Do you want me to keep going? Have I listed enough reasons yet?" Paul didn't know which way to go or what to say in his defense. If he told her the truth she would try to have him committed. Yet on the other hand if he did tell her so what? The clock on the wall behind her head showed the time to be 10:02. His ride back to where he came from was 5 hours and 18 minutes from showing up. Naturally, she would think he had gone completely insane. But she wouldn't have much time to think that. He started to open his mouth to give her a answer. What kind of answer he wasn't sure of but he was suddenly spared from having to give it. The moment was broken by the sound of his son's voice coming from near the top of the stairs that led up to the bedrooms. "Dad, what's wrong? Paul and Sarah locked eyes and silently spoke to each other. Time to cool it for awhile. Paul turned and walked towards the bottom of the stairs and looked up. There stood his son. He could see that he had been crying. His eyes were red and Paul could still see the tear streaks on his face. "Hey Timmy. Nothings wrong. How long have you been awake?" "I woke up when you were screaming at Mr Demmings dad. What did he do so bad?" asked his son. Paul quickly scaled the steps up to where his son was standing. He knelt down to where he was eye level with the boy. "Ah son, I'm sorry I woke you up. Mr Demmings made a mistake and I overreacted, that's it. Really, I'm okay." "Are you sure daddy? I heard you screaming like you were really mad. And then all of our friends were screaming at you. Now you and mommy are fighting. I'm scared dad," Timmy told his father as fresh tears started to form in his eyes. "Come here son," Paul said as he pulled the boy tight against him. "I promise you, I'm better then Ive been in a long time. I'm okay son. You don't have anything to be afraid of. I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere and neither are you. Okay? Please believe me!" "Okay dad, I do," and a smile started to form and soon spread across his face. "Good son. Come on, let me tuck you in. AGAIN!' and now it was Paul's turn to smile. He reached out his hand and Timmy eagerly took it. Before walking away he turned and called out to Sarah. "Hon, I'll be back down in a few. I'm going to get Timmy back in bed." "Okay, I'm going to start cleaning up,' his wife answered back. "Come on champ," and Paul started down the hallway with his son, still clasping hands and both of them feeling much better.

   For the second time tonight Paul stepped through his son's room and pulled the door shut behind him. Timmy, seeing his dad calm, had calmed down also. Paul had helped him back in bed, tucked him in again when that old feeling of familiarly hit him head on. He had tucked in his son every night, just like this and it was a habit that had been as natural to him as breathing. In all the grief that he had felt since his death he had forgotten the small things, small things like tucking his son into bed every night, and how much they had meant to him. The little things were where the father and son bond were born and strengthened and it was supposed to be forever. Sadly, that bond was destroyed when the flames had taken his son. And he had experienced pain like no one should have to every day since. All this still seemed like a dream to him. The old man appearing to him on the street that day. The old abandoned bus stop the man had told him about. And he was still trying to comprehend in his mind WHAT exactly that thing was that had showed up to pick him up and bring him to this dimension. He had been in a daze when he stepped off that bus but he hadn't had time to reflect on it. Immediately he was thrust back into this day that he had wrote down on that slip of paper and he had been so overwhelmed with seeing his wife and son that he hadn't give the old man and bus much thought ever since. Paul quietly walked down to his bedroom and peeked inside. The lit up alarm clock on his bedside table showed 10:18 pm. The countdown was now at 5 hours and 2 minutes before he needed to be back out on the sidewalk where he was dropped off. Just as quietly, he walked inside the dark room and sat on the side of the bed. He thought about how long it would take to wake up, slip out of the bed without Sarah (hopefully) hearing him, get dressed and get outside and make it down to where he was supposed to meet his bus (if you could call it that). Didn't the old man tell him his ride back would be there 3:20 sharp and not to be late, even one minute, or he would miss the bus and be here for good and not be able to get back? Yes, Paul remembered he had. He MUST be out there at the correct time. Everything that the old man had told him that day had been true up to this point. It would be safe to assume that part would be as well. If he set it for 3 that should give him plenty of time. Maybe 2:50 would be better, just in case something happened and he needed a little more time. Maybe Sarah would be awake and not able to sleep. Maybe Timmy would wake up before that from having a bad dream. Maybe HE would wake one of them up trying to get ready to leave. He had to be prepared for anything. "Okay, 2:50 it is then," he thought to himself. With a quick click of a couple bottoms it was done. It was time to go back downstairs to check on his wife. Hopefully the interruption of their son had allowed her to cool down some and divert her thoughts to something else for the moment. He left their bedroom to go downstairs to find out.

When he got downstairs Sarah was in the middle of cleaning up the remainders of the gathering of the night. As she was filling the dishwasher with dirty plates Paul went to the pantry closet and grabbed a plastic trash bag and started filling it with empty bottles and any other trash he could find. "Sarah, again, I'm sorry. I overreacted. Please forgive me. I love you. It might take our friends a few weeks to be able to feel comfortable around me again but there good friends and I know they will. Carl and Ellen? I don't know if we'll be seeing much of them anymore. I'd guess they will write us off their friends list." And with that Sarah smiled and actually began to laugh. That smile and giggle brought Paul instant relief. He returned her smile with one of his own. Sarah walked over to her husband and brought her arms up and around his neck and clasped her hands behind him. "You know Paul, I never really liked them anyway. And all the girls thought Ellen was a stuck up witch. Maybe you did all everyone a favor. But darn boy! Next time be a little more diplomatic about it! Okay?" asked his wife. "Babe, I promise. I will." and he pulled his wife close so that her face was inches from his. Her eyes looked deeply into his and searched them, looking for something that might sound a alarm inside of her. She didn't see it. All she saw was love. Love for her. "Oh Paul, I love you," and she pulled his lips to hers and four years plus of more pain, this time the pain of losing the love of his life, disappeared as he kissed her like he had dreamed he would if ever given the chance to do so again. "Lets go to bed. We can leave the rest of this for in the morning," suggested Sarah. "Agreed," he answered. Feelings were building up quickly that he hadn't felt for along time and they felt good. As they released their grip on each other he gave that same clock on the wall a quick glance. It was 10.40. The last time he was here Sarah had gone up to bed and Paul had stayed downstairs to clean up some and ended up falling asleep watching TV. This time was going to be different. He had accomplished what he came back to do and this time he was going up with her. "Come on babe. I'm tired. Lets go up." She gave her another one of her cute smiles and took his hand. "Lets go. And we have to be quiet. We can't wake up Timmy," she replied. Then it was Paul's turn to smile as he took her hand and led her upstairs to their bedroom.

Upstairs, more waves of familiarity rolled over him. Sarah getting ready for bed. Using some type of women's facial cleaner. Removing makeup, cleaning her skin, brushing her hair. Paul, like most men, only had to brush his teeth and he was done. He lay in the bed, watching her as she went through her nightly before bed ritual. He was happy to see tonight was one of those nights where there was a little extra preparation involved. A spray of one of her better perfumes here and there, making sure she smelled special for her husband. She was wearing a silky lingerie that left little to the imagination. Soon she finished and turned out the bathroom light. "What do you think? Do you like this?" asked his wife in her best seductive voice. "Come me and let me show you how much I like it," he answered, already feeling those old stirrings inside him building. Building fast, making up for the years of dormancy that they had been in. Sarah came to the bed and laid down beside her husband. Like he had done downstairs, he took her and pulled her tightly against him. Their lips embraced again and now those stirrings had escalated into something else. Desire took over him and slowly his lips left hers and moved on to other parts. First her ear, then behind it. Her neck was next for him to explore and he covered every inch of it. Her perfume and the silky fabric against her skin only increased the rush of hormones he was experiencing. Sarah laid back and enjoyed the attention her husband was giving her. Her soft moans prodded Paul further along. This night had been a dream that he had dreamed about so many times since the fire and here he was, living out those dreams. Soon he was down at her inner thigh and it taste as good as her lips had. Sarah's moans continued but they weren't soft and quiet anymore. She reached down and pulled his head up and met his lips again. Desire took over both of them and soon he was taking her. Any doubts that he had about this night being real were lost in the moment. This was as real as any of their times together had been. They were here, together again as one. As their encounter continued Paul put his mouth over his wife's in a attempt to keep her from waking up their son who slept across the hallway from their room. It seemed to work. There was no knock on the door. No voice calling out to them. After a little while longer the very air around them seemed to join in with them as the moment exploded and ran over. Exhausted, Paul let his head come to a rest on his wife's shoulder. They both were breathing in quick gasps and he could feel Sarah's chest heaving up and down as it keep pace. After several minutes he slowly gathered himself back together and eased his way to Sarah's side. He pulled his wife in close to him. He savored the moment and didn't want it to end. Sarah must have felt the same way. She molded her soft body around his and offered no resistance to his pull. Their oneness continued as sweet sleep started to sneak up on them and unlike the nights of past Paul didn't resist. He knew his alarm was set and he knew he had a few hours to rest before it would let him know it was time to go. Soon sleep won out and Paul welcomed it with a smile.

Like before, there were dreams. Dreams like he had dreamed a thousand times. Only these dreams had different endings. First there were the dreams of his son. The two of them out in the yard playing. First with Timmy's electric car. Then in the house laying on the floor. Paul tickling his son and Timmy laughing as hard and loud as he could and then he stopped. Just like in the other dreams his eyes would widen and he stared that horrible stare at him. His clothes started to smolder, as before. But in this dream, they stopped as suddenly as they had started. Then his son's eyes softened and a small smile started to form. "Thank you Daddy for coming. I knew you would save me." said his son and just like that he was himself and the tickling and laughing started again. Then there were the dreams of Sarah. Them dating in college. Their wedding. Then the dream where they were in bed with each other and Sarah's smile turned to a stony frown and her skin started to draw up as if all the moisture in it was being sucked out right before his very eyes. That same look of concern covered her face. But then the dream took a turn like the one with his son did. Sarah's skin replenished itself and her smile returned. "Babe, you stayed. I knew I would be safe as long as you were here." his wife whispered in his ear. Even in the dream relief washed over him and he took her again and it was wonderful and sweet and full of innocence. The way his Sarah had always been.  But then the dream made a turn and went in another direction. No longer was he in bed with his wife but now he found himself standing in a vestibule of a building. A funeral parlor perhaps? He was wearing a black suit and looking out at the rows of people he saw that they all were wearing black also. This was a funeral for someone. Up front was a dark casket with flower arrangements on both sides.The lid was open but Paul couldn't see who was inside it. In that slow, dream like way he found himself starting to make his way toward the front. None of the mourners looked over at him as he slowly moved along. They were all focused straight ahead. Even though Paul was walking towards the front, the coffin didn't appear to be getting any closer. The rows of mourners went on and on. There were at least a hundred of them here, maybe even two hundred, all dressed in black and motionless. Men, women and children as well. Staring ahead, watching, and waiting. They were waiting for him. After walking for what seemed like a hour (in dream time) he finally approached the casket. Still the body was hidden from his view. Two more steps and he was right on top of it. Even in his dream he felt the grief that he had felt so strong for the last four years come exploding back up. In the coffin lay his wife. Tears that seemed so real came pouring out of him as he reached out and took hold of the casket to try to steady himself. His subconscious mind reminded him that he had already played out this scene. Except for the fact that there was no body to look at the last time. The fire had taken care of that. The real casket had contained remains. He had never gotten to see her like this. But he found no comfort in being able to. At least not in this dream. Sarah's face was gaunt. Her dark, full hair seemed thin. She looked like she had suffered much before death took her. She looked old. Nothing like the woman he had known. Then, a creaking noise stopped his crying. As he rubbed his hand over his eyes to wipe the tears away he heard it again. Then he discovered where the sound was coming from. Sarah's head was turning towards where he stood. Startled, Paul drew in a sharp breath and took a step back. Then she opened her eye's. They stared at him, no, looked towards him was a better way to describe them. They were black and soulless. When she was alive her eye's were beautiful and he could stare into them for hours. These eye's had no life in them. Looking into them sent chills down his spine. They were the eye's of the dead. Paul's slapped his hand over his mouth to keep from screaming out and managed, somehow, to hold it in. Then the thing in the box began to speak. "Paul, where did you go? I've been looking for you. My love, why did you leave me?" The scream tried harder to escape but he held it back. With the same slowness that it took him to make his way up to his wife's coffin Sarah began to sit up. Her arms, which had been placed on each side of her and crossed over her chest, began to reach up and out towards her husband. They moved in stiff, jerky movements and her fingers opened and closed on air. "Darling, I knew you would come back. Come to me, I've been waiting for you." Now there was no holding back the scream anymore. It rushed out with a vengeance and he stepped backwards to avoid the grasping hands of the thing in front of him. His legs got tangled with themselves and he fell backwards. But instead of landing on the floor his butt fell down on a seat. A old, dirty, filthy seat. He looked around at this new place he found himself in. He recognized it immediately. He was inside the bus that had picked him up and brought him back to his wife and son. The old bus, not the new one that had arrived back to that fateful day he had requested to go to. He looked around and realized that they were moving. Driving towards somewhere. The fog and mist outside once again rolled up and over the side windows. Dim light illuminated the inside of the bus. Most likely from the street lamps outside. Maybe it was on it's way to the old bus stop? Maybe they were going to be picking up someone else who needed to go back to fix something. Paul could see from his seat the same dark, hooded figure driving the bus. He got up slowly and began to approach the thing from behind. Terror had filled him when he boarded this bus and he had been afraid to move. Now, in his dream, he found courage. The driver that had emerged after their trip back in time had no interest to him. But this strange figure did. He took slow steps towards it. If the thing knew he was behind it then it wasn't showing it. It continued to make it's way towards whatever it's destination was. Coming up completely behind the thing now Paul took a deep breath. As he exhaled he reached forward and grabbed the hood that covered the things head and snatched it back. Horrified, he once again stumbled backwards and fell back into a seat. The driver was him. The hands that gripped the wheel were still the same skeleton hands that he had seen before but it was his head and face. HE was driving the bus. As his brain worked feverishly to digest this nightmare the bus slowly came to a stop. The thing/he reached over and flicked the lever that opened the front door. The thing that looked like him slowly turned it's head and looked down at the door. Paul was looking at a cruel imitation of himself. A big smirk covered his face. His right eye looked broken and stared up into nothing and the other one rolled along lazily in its socket. Patches of hair shared space with flesh and bone on his head. But the real fright came when the passenger who was waiting stepped on the stairs and began to board the bus. It was Timmy. His son. Paul jumped up and screamed at the boy. "NOOOOOO! Timmy, get out of here!" But he was oblivious to anyone else on the bus and didn't hear Paul's warnings. The thing in the seat pointed at a box mounted on the dash and Paul watched as his son dropped eight quarters and a slip of paper into it. As it turned the switch to shut the door it threw it's head back and let out the loudest, most sinister laugh Paul had ever heard in his life. "SON, NOOOOO!"

Paul sat up in bed with a jolt and came close to screaming in real life. His heart was racing and his head was covered in sweat. He gasped for air and his breathing couldn't keep up. After a minute or so he began to get himself together. His mind had been racing trying to figure out his where abouts. It was dawning on him. He was still in bed with Sarah. Timmy was across the hall tucked in his bed. He had fallen asleep and been dreaming. And had he ever! Those were like some of the few dreams you have and you tend to remember them for the rest of the day. Maybe even a week or two. Heck he doubted he would ever forget these dreams. They had seemed so real! He gave the alarm clock next to the bed a quick glance. It was 2:45. "How about that," he thought to himself. Five minutes before the alarm was supposed to go off. He reached over and turned it off. He was thankful that he had caught it before it did and possibly wake Sarah up. Ahh, Sarah. He laid back down beside her and softly stroked her hair. She seemed to sense it and exhaled deeply and a small smile tried to form on her lips. He thought back to the day when he had the encounter with the old man that had told him about the chance of being able to go back to fix things. He had thought the man was crazy and still would have never believed and yet here he was. In bed with his wife once again. Just like things used to be. After a few more strokes of her hair he quietly eased his self out of the bed. Sarah stirred lightly but she only rolled over and found a new position to sleep in. Paul walked over to the window and opened the blinds. The moon was almost full and it was high in the sky. Soft moonlight lit up the room like a child's nightlight. "Beautiful," he thought to himself. With the soft light in the room he easily made his way across the room to the bathroom. He eased the door shut and flicked the light on. Brief pained stabbed at his eye's as the bright bathroom lights forced themselves on him. He turned the faucet on and splashed cool water up and on his face. He needed to wake up and start getting a move on it if he was going to meet the bus and be there on time. The water did the trick of washing the sleep from his eye's and clearing his head. He ran his fingers through his hair and wet it down a little. He took the comb from the drawer and ran it through his hair. "Do I need to look good for the ride back?" he amusing asked himself. "No, I don't think anyone really cares." That thought hit him like a ton of bricks. Two people cared. And those two people were right here in this house. His house. Their house. Before he came back here today no one else had cared. His friends and scattered family members said they did but no one did like the two people here did. The ride back here had been a success. He had accomplished what he came here to do. The fire was prevented. His wife and son were alive. He had been reunited with them. But now what? What would be waiting for him when he got back to where he had left from? Would Sarah and Timmy be there? He supposed they would be. Four years older maybe, like he was? Or would they somehow jump ahead to the present time that he had come from. Actually thinking about it like this, did he even WANT to go back to where he was? Those four years had been devastating for him. What if he went back and Sarah and Timmy were there and everything was normal for them but he had still lost four years of his life. Something else to consider was the dreams he had just experienced. Sarah dead, asking him why he had left her. Timmy getting on the very bus that had brought him here and HE was the one driving it. What it he went back and then something else happened to his wife or son before the date that he had left to come here? Suddenly it seemed like the biggest risk of his life was to get back on that bus to go home. Home brought more thoughts. THIS was his home. With Sarah and Timmy. If he stayed he would be with them and they were his life. But then the image of the old man out on the street invaded his thoughts. "Don't be late to meet the bus to come back home Paul Jenkins of you'll be stuck there forever." is what the old man had told him. He ran the comb through his hair again, confused to what he should do. He placed the comb down on the counter and turned the light off. He slipped out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed. The clock read 3:01. "Still plenty of time to do this," he thought to himself. He leaned down and kissed Sarah gently on her forehead. Gosh how he loved her. If he went back she just had to be there. He had almost died when he lost her before. He couldn't stand losing her again. He slipped up off the bed and opened the bedroom door. He silently made his way over to Timmy's room. He eased open the door. Timmy's nightlight was on. Just like always. He quietly made his way over to the boys bed and sat down next to him. He leaned down and kissed his forehead as well. His son. His love for him was as great as it was for Sarah. Losing him had probably hurt even more just for the fact that he was young and had yet to really experience life. He rubbed his hand over Timmy's check. As he did so Timmy stirred. "Daddy? Are you okay? What's wrong? "Nothings wrong son. Just came in to kiss you goodnight. That's all." "Okay Dad. I'm glad you woke me though," said Timmy. "Oh yeah? Whys that?" asked Paul. "I was having a scary dream. I was dreaming that I was in the city late at night all by myself and I was waiting for somebody to come pick me up. I don't know who but I was really scared." Paul's blood ran cold when his son said those words. He didn't know what to say. He could only stare at the boy. "Daddy, what's wrong? You don't look like you feel good. Are you sure your okay?" I'm, I'm, I'm fine son. Get to sleep now. It was only a bad dream. Good night, I love you," and he gave his son another kiss. "I'll see you in the morning." "Okay, I love you to Dad." Paul forced his legs to work enough to get him standing and then made his way out of his son's bedroom.

Paul leaned against his bedroom door after returning to his room. He had made up his mind. He was going to stay. It was just to risky to leave. Now especially, after the nightmares. And why would his son have the same dream that he had just had. It was like someone was telling him something. He had been given a second chance to come back and take care of things. He had done that. His wife and son was safe. But what if something else happened to them between now and the time that he had left to come here? There might not be another chance after this night. Plus, if he stayed he could get those four years back that he had spent alone. The four years that he had spent mourning their deaths had been agony. He never wanted to go through that again. He wouldn't go through that again. The alarm clock now read 3:10. Ten minutes and the bus would be out there down the street waiting to pick up it's passenger that it had dropped off here. Only there wouldn't be anyone to pick up. He walked over to the window and looked out over the front yard and street. The moon was glowing orange and it's light cast eerie shadows that danced in the night air. Maybe the bus would wait a few minutes in case he was running late? Maybe it would roll through and not even stop if there was no one there waiting to be picked up. Either way, he was happy with his decision. They would have a wonderful life together and he would be a new man. He would appreciate the little things that he had taken for granted from now on. Tomorrow he would wake up with his wife in his arms and later on he would take his son to his birthday party. Maybe the three of them could go together. He would see that they did. He walked back over to his side of the bed and crawled in next to Sarah. The clock showed 3:15. Paul pulled close to Sarah. She was even more beautiful when she slept. He reached out with his hand and stroked her hair gently. Two more minutes passed by. He stared at her and remembered the dreams. For so long he had been visited by the dreams of her and his son. Beautiful dreams that turned ugly at the end. They would be over after tonight. All good dreams with good endings after tonight. He turned his head around to look at the clock. 3:19. He had the urge to get out of bed and go to the window. When the clock hit 3:20 he wanted to be looking outside. Maybe he would see the bus going by, maybe not. As he watched the clock it finally hit the magic time. 3:20. He looked at the window and peered as hard as he could down the street towards where the bus had dropped him off. Nothing appeared at of the ordinary. The moon still cast it's light out over the street and houses. No fog, no dirty headlights, no anything. "Well, time to start fresh," he thought to himself. As he turned to head back to the bed the clock switched to 3:21. And right away he noticed it. The alarm clock had been castings it bright green electronic light out over the bedroom but now it was different. Not as bright, dimmer. Matter of fact, the whole room looked dimmer. He turned back to the window and looked out over the yard. It was different as well. The moon was still high in the sky. But it's light was dull. The dancing shadows were gone. The light wasn't bright enough to make shadows anymore. Starting to feel slightly uneasy, he walked over to his bed. Sarah was there and she was still in a deep sleep. But even she didn't look right. He couldn't describe it. It was just the way she looked. Empty, transparent almost. He quickly sat next to her and put his hand on her shoulder. It sank down inside of it. "Sarah!" he said, no screamed, at her. "Wake up!" She didn't. He turned frantically to check the time. 3:22. Now the room surrounding him WAS darker. The things in it had the same look as his wife did. They were there. But at the same time they weren't. It was like they had become images instead. He jumped up and his son raced into his brain. "Timmy!" he thought and snatched open his door and ran across the hall. He burst into his son's room and it had that same dull, grainy look. He flew across the room and nearly jumped on Timmy's bed. He also was still asleep "Timmy! Wake up son!" and he reached out to the boy to shake him awake and now panic and fear took over him completely. Both hands went right through the boy and the adrenaline that was pulsing through his body pushed them down in the mattress that his son rested on. Paul stood up and took two steps back. He felt paralyzed. What was happening? A quick look around him showed him that his son's room had the same look that his bedroom had. Furniture that had once been in the room now looked more like picture. Old pictures. This was Timmy's bedroom but it was disappearing. Right in front of his eye's. Now with panic and fear in complete control he bounded back out and headed towards his room. The clock showed 3:25. Barely showed it. The light was almost out. He had to strain his eye's to see the time. Five minutes since he should have left. A thought entered his mind and he ran in the bathroom. He slapped the switch to turn on the light and it did but it wasn't the same light as it had been. The bulbs came on but it was more like candle light then incandescent light. Still it was enough to see himself. He didn't look like his surroundings. He hit himself and slapped his chest. He was still here. His hands didn't sink into his body like they had his wife's and son's. He ran back out in the bedroom and it was even duller now. The room was almost completely dark. One more look at the clock showed it move to 3:26. Then it went out completely. "No, no, no it can't be. Please don't let this be happening!" A understanding began to creep in his head. He had stayed and the past was moving forward. Only it wasn't taking him. He was being left behind. He had been out of place here. Really only a visitor. This world was moving towards the place he had left. But he wasn't making the trip. He was stuck here. Alone. Now their was hardly any light at all coming in from the window. The room was almost completely dark. As any trace of normal thinking was pushed out of his head by the incoming rush of fear he ran out of the room and headed for the stairs. When he got to them he almost fell head first down them. He managed to stay upright somehow and descended them in three leaps. He bolted for the front door. Maybe he could still catch the bus and get back home. Before it was to late. He flung open the door and ran out as fast as he could. Outside was more of the same. It looked like he was in the middle of a big picture. Nothing out here looked real. Just images. And they were fading fast too. He sprinted down the street and almost started laughing as he realized he was running with nothing on except his underwear. What if the neighbors woke up and saw him? They would really think he had lost his mind. And guess what? They would be right. Still running as fast as his rubbery legs would carry him, he started to slow as he had some hope creep in. Up the street where the bus had dropped him off was that big, rolling mass of fog and mist. "Is it possible it's still here waiting for me?" he thought out loud to himself? Then he did start laughing out loud. "It's here! It waited for me! I'm not to late!" He ran some more and the brief hope he had felt was soon snuffed out. He ran into the mist and the fog but there was nothing inside it. The bus was gone. And any hope he had of returning back had gone with it. The laughing started again as the last part of his sanity was lost and he laughed louder as he thought of what had happened. He had come back to save his wife and son and in the process he had lost himself. They would live. But not with him. In a moment the mist and fog dissipated and the whole world around him was barely visible. As his laughs turned to screams the last light around him died out. Everything was gone. And so was Paul Jenkins.

                                                                EPILOGUE

The yellow cab pulled up to the corner of Bryn Mawr and Windsor Park. It was late at night and the cab was the only vehicle around. The back door opened and a young, tall man exited the car. He walked up to the drivers window. The driver rolled down his window and looked around nervously. He hadn't wanted to come out here but the amount that the man had offered to pay was enough to calm his nerves enough to get him to agree. Twenty one year old Tim Jenkins pulled out his wallet and removed a large sum of cash. "Here and thanks a lot. Here's a extra twenty as well. If you come back here at 12:15 and I'm still here then I'll pay you double to take me back. If I'm not here then you will know that I found another ride." "Okay mon but I still say your crazy for wanting to come out here. They say this place is cursed." answered the cabbie. Then he grabbed the money and took off, leaving the tall man alone on the corner. Tim Jenkins couldn't believe he was really out here. He was normally a reasonable thinking man. At least now he was a reasonable thinking man. It had taken him a long time to get over his fathers disappearance. He was seven years old when his dad had left and it had devastated him and his mom. His mom never did recover after his dad left. At first she refused to believe he would stay away for long. They had awaken the next day after that party and his father had simply disappeared. His wallet was on the dresser. All his identification and credit cards were in it. Their luggage was still in the closet. Nothing missing. All his clothes still folded and put away. No note, no explanation, no nothing. They had called the police. They found his car at the grocery store parking lot that he had gone to that afternoon. Paul had told his mother that it had broke down on the way home and he had walked the rest of the way so they were surprised to find it where they did. Still, there were no signs of foul play in or on it. The police even questioned Carl Demmings after they heard about the violent outburst from Paul the night of the party. Carl assured them that he was home that evening trying to stop the bleeding from his nose and that Paul was lucky that he hadn't called the police himself. His wife Ellen verified his story so they had ruled Carl out as a suspect. They put up posters and offered rewards but it was like he had vanished into thin air. His mother never did recover from the loss. She always held out hope that one day he would return to her, to them. She slowly withdrew from the things that she used to love. She cut off communication with her friends and family after they had tried to coax her along to the fact that she would probably never see her husband again. Every time the phone would ring or the doorbell rang she would jump up and her face would light up with hope but it always ended in disappointment. As the years went by she grew weaker and frailer. She just seemed to give up on life. Her health deteriorated to the point where she couldn't take care of her son anymore. Sarah's sister Kathy and her husband Gary offered to take Timmy in and care for him until Sarah got better. She never did. Two years after that she collapsed one day out at the mailbox and Rick from next door called 911. They rushed her to the hospital. They doctors were shocked to see how thin and frail she was. They discovered she hadn't been eating. The doctors did all they could do for her but she was just to sick to help. And she had lost her will to live. Three days later Sarah Jenkins died of a broken heart at the age of 35. Five years after her husband had vanished. Tim had taken his dads disappearance bad enough but after his mom's death he nearly lost it. He was twelve years old and it took a lot of counselling and therapy for him to get through his losses. Night times was the worse. At night, almost every night, the dreams would come. Him a little boy again, playing with his dad. Or the three of them out in the yard playing or around the dinner table. It was hard but kids have a way of bouncing back. Sometimes even better then grown ups do. His aunt Karen and uncle Gary tried their best to give him a loving, normal home and they had. He loved them for being there for him when his parents weren't. He shook his head and returned his thoughts back to the present. He couldn't believe he was really out here. He wouldn't be out here if the old man hadn't been so convincing. He thought back to their encounter. He was running his morning jog and like always he cut through Brysons Park on his way to the walking and biking trail that ran along the Chicago river. He had seen the man lying on the side of the trail way before he got close to him. Other joggers in front of him slowed to look but pasted by the man. When Tim got close to him he could see why. The man was obviously homeless. His clothes were grimy and dirty. His hair was worn and tattered. He looked like he hadn't seen a shower in years. He had fallen down and seemed to be in pain. He moaned and grimaced as he tried to get up. He didn't look like the kind of person you really wanted to be grabbing and pulling on. Still, he had stopped to help the man. He couldn't just leave the guy there. He had reached out his hand and the old man had taken it. Tim pulled with all his strength and helped the man to his feet. He gave him a smile that showed decayed teeth that hadn't fared much better then his hair over the years. "Thank you Tim. Or should I say Timmy," said the old man. "How, how, how do you know my name?" Tim had asked the old man. "Lets just say I know things. You stopped and helped me and I'm most grateful for that. Now I want to help you." the old man replied. Tim, suddenly feeling uneasy, held up his hand. "Hey, keep your money. I don't want it." "I don't have money to give you Timmy but I have something else even better. How would you like the chance to go back and keep your dad from leaving and then your mom from dying? I can tell you how." Tim's eyes had grown wide with shock when he heard the man say that. "How do you know that about me?" Tim had asked the man. "Oh, lets just say I have a way of knowing these things. Listen and listen good. You must follow my exact instructions." And now here he was. Standing on this street corner by this deserted bus stop. Here before twelve midnight. Waiting for a mystery bus that will take him to his destination. He had eight quarters (exact change) and a slip of paper in his pocket. The paper had his old address on it and it was dated for fourteen years back. Back when he was a seven year old boy and his dad hadn't left and his mom was still alive and they were a happy family. The man had told him that he had twelve hours to fix things and he must come back not a minute later. But secretly, he had thought, if this works and he sees his mom and dad again well who knows, he might just stay.

Mr and Mrs Suitcase

Mr and Mrs Suitcase had been retired for two years now. They should have been enjoying their retirement but the truth of the matter was they hated it. They both knew they had lots of years left in them but they had been forced into retirement. It all began when their owners, Ben and Nanci, brought the "new" couple home. When the Suitcases saw the young couple they knew their days off carrying Ben and Nanci's things were over. The new guys were hip and cool and they weren't even made out of imitation leather or any other fabric for that matter. They were hard and looked PLASTIC???? He and she both had shiny stainless steel wheels on their bottoms and up near their tops they each had a retractable handle that pulled out so that Ben and Nanci had the option of pulling verses carrying. The Suitcases were from a older generation. A generation that could only offer handles and knew nothing about such fancy and modern things. When they were young you were one cool cat if you had a locking mechanism (as they did) and one of those attached tags that allowed you to place a card facing out that had your name and address on it in case your owner got lost and someone could reunite him or her with their luggage (again, and they did). They had been quite in style forty some years ago but today they just looked old and tired. They really had expected the worse when the new kids arrived. They thought they would end up being thrown out with the garbage and even then they would be hopeful that someone who really needed a suitcase would see and take them and spare them the big truck that would come and take them away. Or hopefully their owners would donate them to a thrift store so they could be purchased by someone else and they could still work a few more years. They had even heard their owners discussing that very thing but they couldn't bring themselves to get rid of them. They had been with them for so long and had been to so many places with them that it just didn't seem right to get rid of them. So here they were. Delegated to spend their days and nights towards the back corner of the spare room their owners used for storage. The days were long and boring now but at least they had their memories. Ben and Nanci had lived a adventurous life and they were always on the go it seemed. They had purchased the suitcases not long after their marriage and fortunately, they acquired a taste for travel and leisure vacations soon after. Those early years were wonderful for both couples. Ben and Nanci worked hard and liked to play hard too. They were all young and had their whole lives ahead of them. Mr Suitcase would be packed with Ben's shirts and ties and his toiletries that always included his colognes and aftershaves. Mrs Suitcase carried all of Nanci's stuff. Delicate clothes like silk blouses with revealing V necks and silky lingerie that got wore at night and always plenty of smell good sprays. There were lots of road trips in Ben and Nanci's old station wagon. The suitcases would get packed and stowed in the back of that old wagon and over the years they had traveled on about every major highway in the USA. With the big side and rear windows Mr and Mrs Suitcase had the perfect view of the surrounding countryside. They had traveled the fabled Route 66 back when the old 66 started in their owners hometown of Chicago and ended in Santa Monica. That had been a three week jaunt across the country with many memorable overnight stays in each state. Who could forget the night the big storm blew in while they were staying at the Sleepy Texan in Amarillo and hail the size of golf balls fell from the sky and the power was knocked out right up until they left the next day. It must have been 140 degrees in that room during the night and they would have just packed up and left if they weren't so afraid of getting struck by lightening while in the process of doing it. The old wagon had suffered a cracked windshield and a couple nice sized dents on the roof that served as a reminder over the years of that storm. Then there was the trip down the Old Scenic Route 100 through the heart of Vermont during the fall and everyone was stunned at the beauty of the trees and their fire red and deep orange colored leafs. In the years that followed there were trips to the lake and visits to family members scattered around the country. There were plenty of good times traveling around in that old wagon. Sadly though, nothing last forever and eventually their owners replaced that old station wagon with a four door sedan that didn't have the big wrap around glass back but instead had a trunk that the Suitcases fit in nicely but was like traveling in a dark room. No more nice view and no more sight seeing. But it really wasn't that bad. They still got to travel with their owners and the dark trunk gave them time to nap, something that they recently had discovered they enjoyed doing. The motel rooms were soon replaced with hotel rooms as their owners and their taste matured. A few years later the the Suitcases flew on their first airplane and even though the Mrs was a little nervous at first they had loved it! They were placed in a huge room with lots of other Suitcases and they all had had a delightful time meeting and talking with all the other Bags. Everyone congratulated them for flying on their first flight and wished them happy flying in the future. When they landed there were last goodbyes and well wishes for everyone all around and then silence as the big cargo bay door opened. Soon after they were thrown on a big cart with all their new found friends and taken inside a big building and one by one thrown onto a big metal moving track that took each one of their friends up and through a hole in the wall of some sort. When Mr and Mrs Suitcase rode up and dropped down out of the hole they were relieved to see all the owners waiting patiently for their bags. After a few turns and curves (the metal moving thingy was quite enjoyable) their owners grabbed them up and whisked them away. They had enjoyed a week in a very posh motel in Acapulco Mexico and the flight back had been just as entertaining. After that the majority of their travels were by plane. Soon they were the ones welcoming the first time flyer's down in the cargo bay. They also got to experience their first cruise several years later and they both had loved it. On that one and the ones that followed their owners always had a room with a balcony and the Suitcases loved looking out over the ocean as the sun set. But after awhile the Suitcases began to notice that the trips and vacations began to slow down some. They were becoming less frequent with more time in between them. They also were getting older and they knew it. Their zippers hurt whenever they were opened or shut. Their sides ached a lot and they both blamed laying on them over all the years with a full bag of stuff pushing down on them. Even their owners seemed to be feeling it. Gone were the sexy nighties and the manly aftershaves and now there were medicines and ointments and vitamins and supplements. They both missed the good old days when they were young and they could carry a full load of things and their zippers could be opened and closed a hundred times a day and they never had a ache or pain. Days spent in the back of that old wagon. Flights flying here and there and meeting other luggage from all over the world. The cruises that sailed over the blue Atlantic and down and around all the Caribbean islands. Deep down, the two of them knew their days of service were coming to a end. Even their colors, once bright and vibrant, were fading and now looked old and dull. Still though, they had been with their owners through all the good times and bad times. Packed and taken to family events like weddings or graduations or babies coming into the world. They had also rode with them in times of sorrows like funerals or sudden unexpected deaths. They had been through thick and thin together. That's why it was so shocking the day their owners brought home their brand new replacements. The misses had cried for days. Mr Suitcase tried to put up a good front for her, their owners won't like them, they can't carry a full load like they could, they were to cold and impersonal, etc, etc. But deep down he knew their time had come. They were going to spend their last years here in this room with all the other things their owners didn't have much use for anymore. But, they still had each other and they had their memories of all their past adventures. And every now and then Ben would come in looking for something in that room full of stuff. And whenever he got close to the the couple he would reach out and rub his hand over both of them and their handles and a small smile would start to form on his lips. Ben, like them, remembered too.

Back To School

Its hard for me to believe that the kids are all back or going back to school already. Here in Florida the kids started going back three weeks ago! Some counties went back last week. Here in Lake county, where I live, the kids went back this past Monday. A lot of schools outside of Florida are returning back this coming Monday. Wow! Where does the time go? To me it seems like it was just the other day when all the kids were celebrating their last day of school before summer vacation. Why is our perception of time, as a adult, so much different then that of a kids. I remember when I was young and in school summer vacation seemed like it lasted forever! Especially during my elementary and middle school years. Those last days of school back then were a mixture of happiness and sadness. We were happy, ecstatic, to be finishing the school year but at the same time we were sad to be saying goodbye to our classmates. We knew it would be a long time ( there's that kids perception of time thing again ) before we saw them again and after all, we had spent almost everyday of the week with them since that school year had started and that school year had seemed like it had dragged on for two years at least! We would always end the school year sometime around the second week of June and we NEVER went back before Labor day. So honestly, we did get a couple more weeks back then then the kids do now but it still seemed like we had forever before we had to think of school again. My sister Kimberly and I had it pretty good growing up. Our long summer breaks always started off with a day or two at the beach. My Aunt Ev and her sister would rent a beach house for two weeks every year as soon as school ended and my mom would always take Kim and I down there for a day visit or two. My cousin Carol would be there and we would spend all day swimming and digging in the sand and making sand castles using a plastic pail that my mom would always get us on the way down there at one of those 5 and dime beach shops. She would usually get us one of those cheap inflatable rafts as well and I don't think we ever bought one that lasted the whole day without getting a hole in it and getting trashed. I remember thinking that my cousin was so lucky to be able to stay there in that rented house right on the beach for TWO whole weeks and do whatever she felt like doing. Then there were the countless sleepovers with other cousins. My cousin Tony Collins and his parents, my Aunt Doris and Uncle Jim. They had a swimming pool and we would always beg to go see them and yes, we always made sure we took our bathing suits. We'd be in that pool the whole time we would be there, coming out only to eat lunch and then do our customary wait for a half hour before going back in lest we develop severe cramps and possibly drown due to our inability to move our arms and legs. Whatever cruel parent came up with that torturous idea that was told to every kid back in that era. Occasionally we would get to visit my Aunt Melissa and Uncle Pete and their two kids, my cousins Candi and Shawn Short. They lived far away, about a hour and a half north of my family. Or it seemed far away to travel for two young kids like my sister and myself. Those summers back then were full of fun times for us young ins. As Kim and I got a little older chores were mixed into the fun times. We lived on a farm and my parents always had a huge garden that produced enough vegetables to feed half the town we lived in if there was ever a crisis of some sort to come up. Me and Kim would have to hoe and work that garden and we complained because it wasn't fair that since we ate nothing that came from it then why did we have to work and keep it up. The usual answer was hush up and do it cause I said you HAVE to do it so we did. Then a year or two after that grass cutting was added to the list. Then helping to feed and tend the forty or fifty head of cattle or the one or two hundred pigs we also raised. So as we got older going back to school was a relief of some sorts. We were spared the bulk of the hard labor we had to endure but even with that summer rolled along slowly and the fall took it's good old time arriving. When we were young we knew it was getting close when mom would start talking about needing to take us to look for some new clothes for school or coming home with new book bags that were stocked with wooden pencils and notebook paper for us. When we were older and being used for slave labor we of course knew the dates and we would start to actually anticipate the first day back to school. It always seemed to come right about the time that Kim and I would start swearing that we would NEVER have a farm and perform this kind of back breaking labor. And guess what. Kim and her husband Nick have a big garden every year and I fantasize about having and living on a farm. Now, all these years later and with two kids of my own, I'm shocked with the way the summers start and before you blink twice it's time for the kids to go back. I wonder if it feels like a long time to them like it did to me and my old classmates back then. Back when the years rolled along slowly and in no hurry at all. Like back when we had the world by it's tail and time was on our side. I sure hope so.

Zombies

What is going on with all these disturbing reports of people attacking and munching down on other people? The most famous one happened here in Miami a few weeks ago. The one where the naked, crazy guy attacked the homeless man and was chowing down on his face?? How deranged is that? Pretty sick and scary! I've read that some new drug out there is responsible for those sickos that are doing this. Bath salts they are calling it. Bath salts? Was the guy who comes up with names for new drugs on vacation that week when this one came out? Can you score a ounce of "Salt" at Bath and Body works? Anyway, supposedly people that ingest the drug become violent and apparently very hungry. But my daughter has a different theory. She, and apparently lots of other young people, are saying we are on the verge of a zombie apocalypse. Some kind of virus has been released into the air that will soon turn the human race into flesh craving zombies. Don't believe me? Google zombie apocalypse and see what comes up. The CDC even issued a warning and gave instructions on what to do in case of a zombie onslaught. Read it for yourself if you don't believe me. Now I have watched all the George Romeo zombie movies and enjoyed them actually BUT, do I believe this could happen? NO, I don't. But then the other day I got to thinking, what if Emily and all the other zombie apocalypse theory people were right? What if I caught the virus and turned into one of those night/day/ morning/ noon of the living dead zombies? Being the somewhat picky eater that I am I can't see myself running down the street and grabbing the first non zombie person I could get my hands on and just start throwing down. Would my victim pause and stop fighting with me as I said a blessing? Then continue to resist again when I was done? Also I obsess sometimes about cleanliness and germs. I would never attack a homeless person out of fear of food poisoning of some kind. It would definitely have to be a recently showered or bathed person. Which then brings the question of what kind of person to eat? Couldn't be a Hispanic. They are all very fiery and spicy and spicy foods can give me heartburn and indigestion. A Asian? I'm sure if I attacked and ate one of them I'd be hungry again a hour later. A white guy? Nah, to bland and would probably taste like chicken anyway. And that brings up another thing. Definitely would have to be a woman. Attacking and eating a man would just be to gross. How about a black woman? Really, I shouldn't. Too much brown sugar and I'm trying to cut back on sweets plus I wouldn't want to get older and be a insulin dependent zombie later on in life. Indians? Shouldn't eat over 8 ounces of red meat a week so I would have to be careful there. Moderation is definitely key here. Then there's the decision to make on WHERE to attack. Definite no no's would be at the Walmart. Victims there would have to much body fat and my cholesterol would skyrocket, plus there's my arteries to consider. Also would probably come down with ink poisoning from eating all the tattoo covered flesh. The one upside would be that they would be easy to catch as they rode around on half dead battery operated scooters while slamming and banging into isles and other people. Outside in the complex where I live? Nope. They have a zero tolerance policy on rowdiness and harassment so I'd end up evicted AND would forfeit my deposit. How about at Disney where I work. No way! First off, all the foods I was trying to avoid work there. Second, attacking a guest would result in automatic termination and then I couldn't pay the rent for my place at the complex that I don't want to get kicked out of to begin with! Having to think of all these different scenarios of what I would do makes my head hurt so bad that I'm beginning to think I might just be coming down with the zombie virus. And if I am, maybe I'll just do like I've always done with my fingernails and just chew on myself!

Old Memories

I had a real rush of old memories the other day. It was a wet and rainy afternoon and Elizabeth and I were tired of being penned up inside. We decided to take a leisurely ride in the old pickup truck. Elizabeth is not that familiar with the Clermont area, the REAL Clermont area, and I thought it would be a good day to show her around. Of course, there's Highway 27, which runs up to town from my place. Scattered along the way are several subdivisions, different really in name only. Houses side by side, all looking the same. But I wanted to show Elizabeth the real Clermont. The one you only see when you venture off the major highway. We started off taking county road 474 which runs west for about 12 miles before ending at highway 33. Highway 33 runs north and south. South takes you to Lakeland and Auburndale. Head north and your going the "back way" up to Clermont. Now this "back way" is the rural version of highway 27. Definitely no subdivisions along this road. Mobile homes and old cracker style homes rule this area. Soon we come up on the old gas station/convenience store that used to also have a small restaurant attached called Beaches Barbecue. Me and the kids used to go there occasionally back when we first moved to Clermont. Beaches was not a fancy place. A basic menu. Food served on paper plates but they had some of the best barbecue you ever tasted. Unfortunately, the restaurant part closed seven or eight years ago but I was surprised to see a new eatery had just opened up that week called The Cast Iron Skillet. Definitely going to try that out as both Elizabeth and I love those out of the way mom and pop places. Further up the road I pointed out the privately owned grass strip airport where you could go up in a hang glider (with a instructor) and the owner would tow you up in his cessna airplane and release you to float around in the sky for a hour or two. I have never done it but I had been there with my parents and I remember my Dad, who also had his pilots license and owned a cessna plane, hitting it off with the owner and we just relaxing there watching those gliders soar through the sky. We passed the old dried up mud pit where they used to host mudding competitions every Saturday afternoon. People would come from all over to see who had the tallest and meanest 4x4 vehicle that could make it across the mud bog. Rarely did I ever see anyone do it and after getting buried up to the doors and waving the flag of surrender the old boy driving the contraption that looked like something from a sci fi movie would ride out and hook on to them and snatch them out. I took Joel Wharton out there one time and he was sure he was back somewhere around Gumboro Delaware. There was a old hay wagon that was used as a stage and a bluegrass band was up there just a picking and a grinning away. Alas, that fell to the wayside several years ago after the state and the county determined that all that driving in and out of the dirty, thick mud was bad for the environment. Pleeeze, whatever! The guys and the landowner put up a good fight but after the state started issuing fines they had no choice but to stop. We cut over and headed up to Groveland from there. Groveland is the next town over west of Clermont. After a short tour of Groveland we headed back towards the town part of Clermont and made a turn to take the back way through town to head back home. That's when we passed the entrance to Palatlakaha Park, aka Park Pals for short. We rode right by it and the memories immediately started coming back. I had not thought of this place in years. "I'm going to turn around and show you something neat. You have to see this" I told Elizabeth. I had forgotten about taking my kids to this place years ago when they were little tykes. The park consists of sports fields, a pavilion and some picnic tables. Huge, towering oak trees that have to be over a hundred years old sit scattered around the park providing shade from Florida's bright sun. I had forgot about the boardwalk that the town built that starts at the edge of the woods and meanders through the forest until it ends at Lake Palatlakaha. The heavy rain had turned to a light shower by this time and I grabbed my umbrella and Elizabeth's hand. "Come on, I want to show you this." We started walking on the boardwalk and when we got further into the forest we were able to close the umbrella. The tall cedar trees, covered with spanish moss, caught and shielded us from the rain. The forest seemed to be teeming with life as nature does after a good soaking rain. The undergrowth and the wildflowers soaked up the rain and enjoyed the relief it provided from the stifling heat. Elizabeth was amazed at the beauty of the place. I noticed the planks we were walking on. I also had forgotten about the town raising money to help pay for this boardwalk. Businesses or individuals were able to purchase a plank in turn helping the town raise enough money to pay for the project. The boards were engraved with the business's name or the persons. A lot of the boards had been purchased in memory of someone who had passed on. I saw business's that were still in business and some that were closed and just memories now. Like Quincys Steakhouse out on RT 50. Then there was one for The Clock Restaurant. "The Clock" was one of those places where the same people hung out there at the same time every day drinking endless cups of coffee and telling the same old stories they had been telling for years. Although the place had a full menu this place was more of a meeting place where people went to find comfort. Comfort in the familiarness of old friends and knowing that they had somewhere to be that day. It was a sad day indeed when it closed down. We finally made it to the end where the walkway turns into a raised pier above the lake. Three guys were out there fishing and we had a few minutes of friendly conversation. They pointed out a alligator that was slowly floating along a few feet out in front of the pier. We bid them farewell and turned and made our way back to the park. When we got back and we walked over to the giant play area is when the biggest memories started to flood back to me. At the same time the town had installed the forest trail they had also built this huge play area that was a kids paradise. A giant fort like structure that was filled with ladders to climb, tunnels to crawl through and slides to climb up to and slide down. Seeing that place again after all these years made me remember all the times I had brought Lorenzo and Emily to play here. The two of them joining all the other kids playing in the fort. Me, on edge and ready to spring in a instant, ready to save one of my kids if they happened to climb to high or get pushed around by one of the older or bigger kids. They would always call out to me, "Daddy, come play with us!" I would go to them and they would laugh as I tried to squeeze through that tunnel or get through that space between walls but this place had been built for children. I would leave them to explore the places that only those small kids could and rejoin the other parents back out on the benches. Later on I would give them notice that it was time to leave. "Please Dad, five more minutes" they would beg. I would always say okay, knowing full well that five more minutes meant a minimum of fifteen more, maybe even twenty. After that I would have to say more firmly come on! It's time to go! I usually would throw some kind of false threat in there such as this will be the last time we ever come if you don't come NOW. They knew I was serious then and they would begrudgingly come. Wow. Seems like a lifetime ago and really it was. Now that little boy will be eighteen in a couple months and is on the verge of becoming a adult. My little girl is now as tall if not taller then me and will be starting high school this fall. Makeup and boys has replaced climbing and playing. Even I'm different. Married back then, then divorced and single, now married to a wonderful woman that I love and am blessed to be with. It took that park that's out on the outskirts of Clermont to remind me how life goes. Always moving forward. Our lives constantly changing. Older loved ones, just like those old businesses that people loved, closing down and passing on. It makes me determined to live today in a way that I don't look back and regret tomorrow. Maybe I'll ride back to that park again soon and try once more to get through that tunnel or squeeze through that space. And I bet if I close my eyes and concentrate hard enough I'll still be able to hear my son and daughter, little kids once again, laughing and calling out to me "Come on Daddy, you can do it!"

The Fix

~Happy Valentine's Day~


Robert Whitlock's eyes slowly started to open. After a few blinks they were but his mind hadn't caught up yet. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, trying to clear the fog that engulfed his brain. While he was waiting for it to catch up he looked around to take in his surroundings. Another decaying room in another abandoned building. Empty liquor bottles littered the floor. Old dirty rags that had served as clothes for people that slept here before Robert lay scattered around. This is what his life had become. Robert was a addict, a junkie. His life, if one could even consider it a life, consisted of roaming the streets at night and sleeping it off during the day. He had no money so he had to resort to conning and taking what he needed from the drug dealers. He usually went after the prostitutes that were also dealing first though. They were women and put up less of a fight. He would always pretend to be interested in buying and after they showed him the stuff he grabbed it and ran into the darkness of the night. Sure, he had been chased. Shot at, stabbed once but he always managed to get away. Hence the constant moving around. He always tried to avoid a area he had hit for awhile. One thing about drug dealing, it was usually a short lived profession. The lucky ones got arrested and sent to jail. The unlucky ones ended up dead. But one thing about that line of work, when one seller left, three more were waiting in the wings to take over. And when the new ones arrived they never recognized him because they had never seen him before. And this was his existence. He felt dead inside. Nothing of his old self remained. How long had he been existing in this state? The days had turned to months, the months into years. It had been so long ago that he wasn't this person. He had been a productive member of society at one time. The drug had destroyed most of his mind and with that his memory as well but he did remember her, his dear Katherine. She had been his wife and he loved her more then life itself. When he lost her is when he fell apart. Most of his memories had faded with time but he remembered her. And he remembered their last night together. It had been Feb 14th, Valentines day. The year escaped him. How long ago had it been? Five years? Ten, fifteen, twenty even? He just didn't know. They had been out that evening. He had taken her to dine at the fanciest restaurant in the city. After that he had tickets to see a movie. Or was it a musical? Maybe a play? He wasn't sure which but they had watched something. And they were in love, in love on the day that celebrated love. After the show Robert and Katherine set off towards their home. It was only a few city blocks away and the weather had been mild so they had decided to walk. On the way back they held hands and pulled each other close as they made their way home. The mood was light and they were laughing and enjoying each others company when the man attacked them. Robert hated himself for not doing more at the time but the man took them totally by surprise. They never saw him coming out from the dark alley until he was right on top of them. With the strength of a dozen men the man swung his arm back and brought it back up into Roberts face. Robert went reeling. His eyes lost focus from the blow and as he staggered backwards he started to trip over his own feet. Kathrine let out a scream that was part terror, part surprise. The last thing Robert remembered seeing before he fell back and hit his head on the cold, hard concrete was the man, the monster, dragging his darling bride back into the dark alley that he had sprung from. As he slipped into unconsciousness her screams filled his head. And that was the last time he ever saw her, his beloved bride. After that his memories became blurry. He remembered the man coming back to him, presumably to finish him off. He had a faint memory of sirens and people shouting as they came running to see what was going on. And that was it. Nothing else after that. Today, he assumed that he had been so grief stricken over the lost of his dear wife that he had slipped into this nightmare of a existence. Probably started off drinking. Then moved on to harder things, things to help him forget. And they had worked. Other then those few memories, he had forgot. Now his days, or more so his nights, consisted of finding and using his drug of choice. Nothing else mattered to him. He had given up his life for it, he craved it, he needed it. It was the last reason he had to cling to whatever life he had left. And just like every night after waking he hurt. He hurt bad. His body was screaming for a fix. He couldn't think of food, he needed his fix. Robert slowly pulled himself up. His legs felt unsure. His balance was off. He knew he looked horrible but that was the last thing on his mind. Right now his first priority was to get what he needed and then he would decide his next course of action. He ducked back down and crawled out of the hole in the wall that had been made by vandals sometime ago. He had chosen a old abandoned electrical supply warehouse for his sleeping arrangements last night. He had chose this area because MOST of the houses and businesses were abandoned and boarded up. A area that was certain to attract the kind of people he needed to do business with. As he made his way out of the building he saw that he had chose wisely. A dozen or so men were conducting business already this evening. Several customers were walking. Some were driving on the almost deserted streets. Dealers made their way over when the cars would pull up. He could see them sticking their heads down next to the open windows. After a minute or two of talk the dealer would reach into one of his pockets and give the driver whatever they were interested in. The driver would hand over some cash and then take off. This was a place where people could come and get anything they were looking for. If it was addicting a person could find it here. Didn't even have to be drugs. Robert saw several ladies of the night walking around the area as well. Plying their trades, selling their product as well. "Good", he thought to himself. It would be easy tonight. Most prostitutes not only sold themselves but they offered all the other goodies as well. Like a walking one stop market he thought to himself, smiling as he did. So he would sneak down and around and come up by the east side and pretend to be a paying customer. He would do it like always. He would get the person away from the main traffic area, then grab his drug and take off. And he would run and run and not stop until he new it was safe. After he got his fix then the pain would stop and he would be able to think clearly. Think about who he was, where he was going and think about Katherine. And how must he missed her. Oh why oh why hadn't that beast killed him instead and let wife go? He wished, like he did every night, that the man HAD been able to finish and kill him as well. Then he would have been free of this life. This shell of a man living as a hopeless addict. Sleeping in filth all day and wandering the streets at night. Even though the man hadn't killed him, Robert Whitlock was for the most part dead. But right now he needed a fix. The aches were getting worse. He felt screams building up inside him. "Time to get a move on it," he told himself. He moved quickly towards the back of the building that was directly across the street from him. He sneaked around to the far side making sure the whole time that he stayed in the shadows and stayed well hidden. The sky was clear this night and the half moon shone bright and cast tall and dark shadows all around him. Most of the city street lights were out, a fitting tribute to the boarded up houses and closed down stores. Robert made his way up to the sidewalk from along the back side of the building. Even living the hard lifestyle he had been living for the past several years, he still had a handsome boyish look to him. Sure, his clothes were in total disarray. He looked like a junkie but he was still a somewhat handsome guy. He didn't have to stand there in the open for long when one of the street ladies noticed him and approached him to see what he was looking for. "Hi there darling," said the prostitute with a raspy, cigarette scarred voice. "What are you in the market for tonight?' Robert looked the lady up and down and decided she would be a easy hit. She wouldn't be able to run. She was wearing heels that looked to be at least four inches tall. Black stockings came up to her thighs and almost met the bottom of her shorts. Even though it was cold out she wore a silky top that was cut very low to reveal her assets up top. A cheap imitation fur coat rounded out her outfit. Robert had seen dozens, if not hundreds of these women before. The only reason she wore the coat at all was to hide the drugs she was selling on the side. Dealing drugs, after all, was her side hustle. The lady came closer to him. "Hi there baby, which ya need? I'm pretty sure I have it and if I don't then give me five minutes and I can get it". As she talked she kept walking. " I have coke, meth, weed, I have other stuff to if your not looking to get high, if you know what I mean." A slight smile started to form on his face and the lady now knew what he was wanting. Then it was her turn to start smiling. Her basic fee was one hundred dollars. Any extras beyond that was billed at twenty dollars each. "Its going to be a pretty good night," she thought to herself. "Come closer, so I can see you better," asked Robert. The women approached him, proudly, as if to offer him a preview. And just like that man did so many years ago, on Valentines day, Robert was on the woman in a instant. Even as the scream was starting to form in her throat he had her pulled backwards into the dark alleyway. His eyes glowed yellow as he snatched the woman's hair backwards to pull her head back so that her throat was exposed to him. And just as the scream was leaving her lungs, exploding to the top to shout out her fear, he tore into her neck. The scream evaporated as its passage way was torn apart. The thing/man spit out the flesh. He had no desire for it. He was after his drug. He was about to get his fix. The man bit into her neck again, this time severing her jugular. And he feed. Each pump of the woman's fading heartbeat filled his mouth with his drug, the stuff that he needed so badly. As he filled himself he could feel the aches subsiding, his strength returning, his head clearing. As he grew stronger the woman grew weaker. Finally, when he was full and he could take no more he released his hold on the woman's neck and soaked in the feeling of fullness. His body was quiet. No more cravings, no more pains. He looked down at the limp, almost lifeless woman in his arms. She was looking up at him, barely alive. He knew what he must do before it was to late. He had to do what the man that had attacked him wasn't able to do to him. He had taken care of Katherine but had been chased off before he could finish him. So Robert grasped the woman's head tightly and gave it a sharp twist to the right, snapping her neck and mercifully killing her so she wouldn't return like he did. He was addicted to something that he could never get enough of and would do anything to get. Robert dropped the woman to the ground and turned and fled into the night. And for the first time since waking up that night he felt alive.