From The Deep Night, Sci Fi

From The Deep Night

By

Curtis Ray Jones

Page One

    It only took a few seconds for Nathan Boone’s world to end. Some one he did not know, glanced down. Looked up, too late. The red light whizzed over his truck, unnoticed. A white car filled his windshield. No time to stop or even hit the brake.

   Metal exploded and Becky was dead.

  She drove a little Rio, no match for John Macky’s big red Silverado. His girlfriend had sent him a sexy, otherwise known as a selfie. He just had to see it. Too bad Nathan would never get to see Becky again. John Mackie had put her in the ground.

   John Mackie married his girlfriend six months ago. Right after he got out of jail. Justice served.

  Last night was the first peaceful night’s sleep Nathan had had since the accident. There was that…

   The sun was still hiding behind the thick wall of trees encircling their beautiful red brick home, when he carried his first cup of coffee onto his large wrap around front porch. A moment later he settled into his white rocking chair, sat his cup of coffee on the little white wrought iron table that stood beside it, and looked out into the darkness.

    The ornate white porch lamp protruding from the wall of his covered front porch cast a sickly white glow over him. He’d go inside when he could see the gravel road that snaked around his house and cut through a half mile of dense forest until it butted up against a two-lane black top.

   That and the diamond dust dew sparkling from first light might just paint a smile on his face. It didn’t yesterday but maybe…

    Images of Becky Boones’ pretty face perfectly framed by her bouncy blonde hair seemed to dance against the darkness, same as yesterday. The rising sun would end that, push her back into his mind and let him see the world again. Same as yesterday…

    Octobers in eastern North Carolina were always pleasant. So, Nathan’s white T shirt and stringy blue jean cut offs were all the clothes he needed. The air was dry and cool, but he

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liked the chill. That and his usual cup of hot black coffee, was all the comfort he had now. It wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough again.  

    At least he didn’t have to worry about trying to hold down a job. The Mackey name was a big deal in New Burg. The little town the Mackey family practically owned. It lay just five miles away, north from what had been Nathan and Becky’s honeymoon house, now his free and clear.   

    They had met two years ago on an orphan’s only dating app, married October tenth twenty, twenty-four, one year later. They had only ten months together. But the Mackey family paid dearly for those ten months of happiness he could never relive much less add another millisecond to.

    Six months jail time and paying Nathan Boone enough money to keep him from pursuing further legal action was all they wanted. And they got it. At least somebody got what they wanted. Nathan certainly did not. All he had left of her was a few pictures, his memories, his wedding ring and of course their house.

    The thought of selling the house was as unthinkable as removing the gold band on his finger. He was more likely to chew off that finger than sell their house or take off the ring.

   With no family or close friends these painful remnants, reminders kept him pinned to his past. He knew this but did not care.   

   It was almost seven, the sun was finally graying the sky. He would be able to see the ragged tree line soon. Another day, but a million days would not be enough. A million days would not bring her back.

    But she was with him, buried deep within. He could smell her hair and even feel her skin against his when he reached back far enough. Only solitude would give him that. Of course, it never lasted. The world was simply too insistent.

   Why he waited for the sun to push her away, he was not sure. Did he fear losing himself in his past, losing his mind. Yes. That must be it. Fear. There are some things one should never do. Memories no matter how sweet should never replace the present. Painful though that present may be.

    The dead should stay in the dirt. The dirt was real. Cold and eternal.

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 Besides, the ‘Becky’ in his mind was that really her? No, just his idealized version of her. A preferable version? What an ugly thought!

    The sky was blue. His lawn sparkled. He rose from his rocker, retrieved his coffee and headed back inside.  

   He’d take a shower and maybe drive into town.

   Lil’s café served the best sausage and egg breakfast in the county. So that’s where he’d probably wind up this morning.

  His old ford pickup was parked in the two- car garage, behind the house. He dreaded going back there. That’s where Becky parked her little car, her little death trap. Now there was just empty space where her car once sat, waiting for her.

   But there was no waiting for the dead. She was gone. Horribly gone. The crash was so violent, so devastating it forced him to have a closed casket funeral, depriving him of one last kiss, one last lingering look, before they shut her casket door forever.

   Force of habit must have made him park his old dented truck in the garage. It certainly didn’t deserve kid glove treatment. Its’ dead paint sun faded blue; made it look more like a big waxy prune than anything he’d want to drive.

    After he went back inside he stopped and sighed. He scanned its’ once happy space for her. He knew she was not there. But try telling that to his heart his eyes, his memory.

   The house was still warm and cozy. It’s easy on the eyes beige walls had not faded. The large bay window with its’ white cushioned seat still looked out over his neatly mowed front yard. The narrow gravel road still cut his spacious lawn straight down the middle and forked around his three-bedroom house where it converged at the apron of concrete in front of his big white garage.  

    The big soft light brown wrap around leather couch still sat in the center of the house, separating his living room from his spacious dining area.

   A large oval oak dining table sat in the center of the dining room, encircled by six beautifully crafted wooden chairs. Golden sunlight still streamed on the table through two large windows facing the large backyard. Plenty of room for kids to play, wooded trails to explore. Promises they made to themselves shattered by a selfish punk and his dirty little cell phone.

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     He blinked back tears and padded across the thick brown carpet and headed toward the open archway that linked the dining room to the kitchen. The kitchen was bigger than he had wanted but what he really wanted was to make her happy.

  It had been her favorite room. All silver black and white, it gleamed spotless and new in the brilliant morning light that streamed through the back door window and kitchen sink window.

   A dish washer was just right of the sink. He pulled its’ gleaming white door down and placed his dirty cup on its’ top rack. Becky could not stand dirty dishes in the sink or sitting around anywhere else in the house.

   That little chore behind him he turned back toward the opposite side of the house where the bathroom and bed rooms were located. Moments later he walked through his bedroom and made his way to the bathroom just a few steps from his perfectly made up, oversized bed.

    Ten years of lugging a chainsaw through the woods had chiseled his six-foot six body into a heavily muscled tree of a man. Becky was forever badgering him about buying new loose fitting clothes. “No one wants to see man nipples,” She’d tease even as her eyes lingered on his chest.

   A full length mirror hung on the bathroom door. He glanced up.  The handsome image of a thirty two year old man looking back shocked him. He hadn’t felt thirty- two since that awful morning the patrol car drove up his long gravel path and plowed through his life like a tank.

    He doubted he’d ever feel young again, happy again. Broken old, tired of living. Was she waiting for him? Why keep her waiting?

    The showers warm water had wash some of that darkness from him when he lugged the lingering remnants of that dark question out of the bathroom, and into his bedroom.

    Lacey white curtains fluttered from his open bedroom window. Golden sunlight spotlighted the king sized bed at the center of the room. A bed that was now cold and vast as an artic snow field and empty as his heart.

   He trudged over to the vanity at the end of the bed, careful not to touch her drawers, opened his, pulled out under- wear, shirt, jeans and socks, got dressed and headed out.

    Becky was something of a neat freak, so he made it his business to make his bed, wash the dishes dust vacuum, just the way she’d want it. It wasn’t much but pleasing her still pleased him, though he was certain he’d never see her approving smile again…