End of the Road (Ghost Stories Trilogy #1) (6 page)

Chapter Nine

A loud bang startled me
awake. I sat up and my head hit the tarp. The tailgate was now closed and the
engine rumbled to life sending vibrations through the bed that tickled my skin.
Pedro was awake too.

“It’s okay Juanita, he’s
taking us north.”

I rolled onto my side,
facing Pedro and drifted back to sleep. When the engine cut off I woke again.
It was uncomfortably warm and there was no breeze. Footsteps crunched outside
and seconds later the tailgate flipped down. I squinted into bright sunlight.
Part of it was blocked by a man standing at the end.

“Time to go,” Pedro said
and grabbed our bags.

We slid out and my feet
protested being back on the ground, every blister seemed to burst at once. I
hadn’t taken my boots off, partly because I was too tired, also because I was
afraid of what I’d find. The warm pus soaking into my socks confirmed my fears.

Our driver stood by the
open tailgate, his back was hunched and twisted with age and his white eyebrows
were the bushiest I’d ever seen. I wanted to touch them, but just peered around
Pedro’s shoulder at him instead.

“Gracias, señor,” Pedro
said.

“De nada,” he said in a
gruff voice. “Here.” He handed Pedro a Thermos and paper bag then without
saying another word, turned around and got back in the truck.

“What did he give you?”

Pedro twisted the top off
and sniffed. “Coffee,” he answered, handing me the bag. I opened it and the
scent of blueberries wafted up. Inside there were two fresh baked muffins. My
stomach growled.

Even though it was early
morning, the sun beat down on us. Pedro found a shaded area away from the main
road. We sat under some trees and ate breakfast.

I lay on the ground,
using my backpack as a headrest and enjoyed not walking. “Where are we?”

“Black Canyon City, just
north of Phoenix,” Pedro answered.

“How much longer until we
reach Prescott Valley?”

“It’s about another day
and a half walk to Cordes Junction. We’ll get picked up there. We’ll rest here and
wait for the sun to set. It’s too hot for us to walk during the day.”

The sun hung low in the
west when we started moving again. We stuck to the shoulder of the road and in
the less hilly areas, we moved further away from the highway. The hike was all
uphill and I struggled to keep up with Pedro, my blistered feet burned with
each step.

“
Vámonos,
slowpoke!” Pedro called
over his shoulder. I stuck my tongue out at his back and jogged until we were
walking side by side. As the night wore on, traffic slowed considerably on
State Route 69. We could see downhill at headlights coming around a curve, even
though the cars were still miles off. Taking advantage of the light traffic we
walked along the shoulder. After the rough terrain, I appreciated the even
surface and when we passed a sign that said Cordes Junction was seventeen miles
away, we picked up our pace.

Pedro and I were arguing
over the last tamale when I tripped and landed hard on the palms of my hands. I
was so absorbed with the sting of sand lodged under my skin that I didn’t hear
the snake until it was too late. Fangs sunk deep into my wrist.

I cried out and managed
to get up on one knee placing my other hand on the road for balance. The snake
struck again and bit my forearm. Pedro pulled me out of the way before the
snake could strike again. He supported me as I leaned against him. I weighed less
than a hundred pounds, but the exertion took its toll on him, especially once
the tremors started jerking my body all over the place. We traveled maybe two
miles and had to stop.

Pedro lowered me down
onto a clearing on the side of the highway. Venom was coursing through my veins
and blanketed my body in a fever. The pain was worse than childbirth. I
screamed up at the stars for God to help me.

My cries went unanswered.

Pedro wanted to give me
the last canteen of water. I told him no, I cursed at him and made him swear to
go on without me. He stayed until the sun started to glow behind the mountain
range to the east. I was delirious and almost unconscious when Pedro moved me
under a mesquite tree for shelter. The last thing I heard my brother say was
that he loved me and he promised to take care of Mariella.

The venom took me when
the sun was high overhead and all the spit in my mouth had turned to dust. I remember
the very moment my heart stopped beating. It had been pounding erratically, a
constant background rhythm to my suffering so when it stopped and the pain went
away, I was at peace.

Chapter Ten

I became aware of sounds
around me; cars driving nearby, wind rustling leaves and birds singing.  My
idea of heaven didn’t include traffic, so I focused hard on my surroundings.
The desert landscape suddenly appeared and the color plus the bright sunlight
were jarring after seeing nothing but white. I blinked and took a few steps
back. This movement didn’t feel right, like I wasn’t connected to the solid
ground. I glanced down and that’s when I saw my body.

I screamed and jumped
backwards. Even this motion was unnatural, like I was floating.

“Can you hear me?” a male
voice said. I screamed again and turned towards the source. A man stood a few
feet away, staring at me. He wore a suit, had curly blond hair with a slightly
receding hairline and wore round rimmed glasses. After closer examination, I noticed
I could see through him. He was transparent, more like a reflection on a glass
door, visible not quite solid.

“Yes, I can hear you,” I
managed to say after a few moments. I gasped and covered my mouth when another
realization it me. He spoke English and I understood him. I also responded in
English. I was too stunned to do anything.

“I’m Lawrence and you
are?”

“Juanita.”

“Juanita, what year is
it?”

I thought this a strange
question, but then again, everything about this moment was strange.

“It’s 1951.”

Lawrence was still. His
head dropped down so I couldn’t see his face and he faded a little bit before
flaring brighter and he grew less transparent.

“Señor Lawrence, what’s happened?”

Lawrence lifted his head
and made eye contact. “Juanita, I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re dead.”

His words knocked into me
like when I heard Francisco had been killed and I went to gasp, that’s when I
realized I wasn’t breathing and that I didn’t need to. It was also when I
accepted what Lawrence told me and knew he was telling the truth.

“I died in 1935 and have
been stuck here ever since. I’m sorry you suffered and I’m sorry you’re dead.
It may seem selfish, but I am happy to have company.”

I didn’t know how to
respond so I didn’t. We stood together watching over my corpse. After the ants
started to crawl into my mouth, I couldn’t observe anymore. How strange death
was. How strange that a white American man who had been dead for close to
twenty years would be my companion.

Lawrence left me alone
for a while and I appreciated it. Coming to terms with being dead was
difficult. Knowing I’d never see my daughter again even more so. My beliefs
told me that when my time was done here on earth, I would go to heaven. I
needed to know why I was still here. Lawrence was the only one I could ask. I
thought about going over to him, where he stood staring off across the road
toward the mountains. At the very thought of it, I wound up standing right next
to him, without even feeling the movement.

“What just happened?”

“One of the advantages to
being a ghost, I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You think about where you
want to be and you’re instantly transported. There are limitations though.  

“Oh.” I’d ask him about
those later, but had a more urgent question. “Lawrence, I was wondering…why are
we here?”

Lawrence told me about
his family and how he took his own life to be with them.

“Is that why you’re
stuck?” I asked.

“I think that has
something to do with it. I didn’t protect them. They died because of my
decisions.” He alternated between growing brighter and fading, it was almost
like his energy pulsed with each sob. I could see tears glittering in his eyes,
but they never fell. “Can I ask you a question, Juanita?”

“Yes.”

“Who is Mariella?”

At the mention of her
name everything went still. The light breeze tapered off, a cactus wren on a
nearby saguaro froze mid-peck. At least in my mind everything paused while the pain
pressed down on me. I told Lawrence about my daughter and how she was the
reason I came to the United States.

“I’ll never see her
again,” I cried. Tears spilled, their watery path warm on my cheeks, but when I
reached up to wipe them away, nothing was there.

“Another strange
sensation to get used to,” Lawrence said.

“So what do you do all
day?”

“I pray, I beg for
forgiveness in case God is listening and decides to change his mind. I tried to
keep track of time, but found it impossible. There really isn’t anything else
to do. Weather doesn’t affect me and I tried to move objects, but seem to pass
right through them. I also tried to walk back to Phoenix and can’t. I can only
go about 100 feet in each direction.”

“And you’ve been here
since 1935?”

Lawrence nodded and I
shuddered at the thought of being alone, really alone and unable to do anything
about it. “It’s nice to talk to someone again,” he said with a slight smile
that didn’t reach his eyes.

Over the following years,
Lawrence and I forged a bond. Under the circumstances, we had to. I can’t
imagine how Lawrence managed to stay sane after all of the time he was alone.
He was kind and smart. He suffered too. We both did. Many times Lawrence went
off to be by himself and cry. Other times he’d shout at God, raise his fist
into the air and shake it at the cloudless blue sky before collapsing to his
knees and pleading for forgiveness. During these bouts I would make the sign of
the cross and whisper a prayer, not only for myself, but for Lawrence too.

We witnessed a lot of
wonder together. Whenever an animal was hit by a car and killed, the tiny
spirit was visible for only a moment before it blinked out like a candle being
extinguished. Some of the most terrifying storms blew around us. When we were
alive, we would have had to run for cover, but dead, we could stand in the
middle of it. Hail pummeled down around us, wind whipped sand and debris across
the desert and the highway and we didn’t feel a thing.

Cars broke down, flat
tires would be changed, but nobody else died. The changes in automobiles over
the years were fascinating; colors became brighter and the cars were rounder,
longer.

Lawrence was right about
the time. I too lost track and only followed the subtle changes in seasons. I
think not knowing how much time had passed helped. Each day didn’t go without
worry for Mariella though. Was she well? Did she have a good life? Pedro had
promised to take care of her, but he was just a kid himself. I didn’t even know
if he made it back home. He never returned to find my body. The desert claimed
it and what remained after the animals had their way, sunk into the earth.

Four years after I died,
someone else joined us. We saw it happen and stood by waiting, like a receiving
line at a funeral.

Frank wasn’t particularly
happy to see us.

Chapter Eleven

Franklin William Murphy

b.1927 – d.1955

As I pull out, the
parking lot goes dark behind me. I light up a Lucky Strike and head home. Today
wasn’t so bad; I managed to close a sale. The couple’s faces, who bought a new
“Two-Ten” Club Coupe, shone brighter than the paint job on their new ride. It
took some finagling with finance; technically they couldn’t afford the
payments, but I only worried about the commission. I had my own bills to pay.
They were eager to sign on the dotted line no matter what the stipulations
were.

Up until two years ago I
liked my job. I made good money and went out bowling with the boys after work. Faye
and I got married, almost two years ago to the day, and everything changed. I
was expected home and my income went towards a mortgage and home décor. I asked
Faye once why we needed a set of china and she just gave me a pointed stare,
followed by a roll of her eyes, “Because everyone needs good china for dinner
parties.” We have yet to use the damn dishes.

I pull into the driveway,
park under the car port and turn off the engine, but I don’t get out of the car
right away. I savor the rest of my cigarette. I do have to say the house looks
nice. Our neighborhood is new and when we picked out colors with the builder, Faye
insisted on tan stucco with a forest green trim and she was right about the choice,
I’ll give her that. The shrubs I trimmed up last month are holding their shape
including the Bougainvillea, which I’m relieved over. Even though the bright
pink flowers are beautiful, the thorns are not.

After stubbing my
cigarette out in the ashtray, I grab my suit jacket off of the passenger seat.
The sleeves of my white dress shirt are already rolled up and my tie loosened.
The air conditioning unit in the living room window hums when I pass by it just
before I reach the front door. I go to turn the knob, but the door opens and
Faye is on the tile entryway beaming at me.

“Hi Honey,” she says and
takes my jacket before kissing my cheek. “How was your day?”

I’m not ready to tell her
and yet here she is eagerly waiting to listen. Doesn’t she have dinner to cook?
I ask myself and clench my jaw.

“I had a long day and
need a drink.”

“Oh, have a seat I’ll get
you a beer.” Faye leaves the room and I sit down in my chair. She returns
within seconds and sets a bottle down on the table next to me. I light another
smoke and lean my head back, exhaling at the same time. With my eyes closed I
can sense her hovering. I just need to get this over with. I part my lids
slightly. She has the same big smile on her face as when she opened the door.

“Why don’t you tell me
about your day first, sweetheart,” I say. Faye unclasps her hands and skips
over to me. She sits on my lap and I’m so taken aback, I almost burn her arm.
“Whoa, what’s this all about?”

Faye snakes her arm
around my shoulders and whispers in my ear, “You’re going to be a daddy.”

“A what?” I begin to
choke mid-inhale and drop the cigarette on the carpet. Faye jumps up and runs
around behind the chair to step on the butt. A small black mark is burnt into
the carpet fibers.

She laughs while she cleans
up the mess. “Sorry, I caught you off guard, but I couldn’t wait to tell you.
Isn’t this exciting?”

Exciting? You could say
that. A surprise? Yes. “Faye, honey, I thought we were going to wait a bit.” I
try to disguise the anger in my voice. Less than a month ago we had discussed
waiting on children until we built our savings up. Faye bites her lower lip and
twists her hands, like she’s lathering them with soap.

“Frank, I…I thought you’d
be happy about this.”

“I didn’t say I’m unhappy
about it. Don’t go putting words in my mouth.” I take a swig of beer and light
another cigarette.

“I know we weren’t
planning, but I think this is a good accident.” Faye takes a tentative seat on
my lap again. “We were going to start a family anyway. This is just sooner than
later.”

I can see my poker
nights, already sporadic, will disappear altogether. My Bel Air convertible
will have to be traded in for something more family friendly. A knot begins to
form at the base of my spine; it’s my freedom being coiled up and stored away
like an old extension cord.

Faye is right though, and
I know it; this is what we’re supposed to do. You get married, settle down,
have a couple kids and grow old together. I love Faye, don’t get me wrong, but
sometimes she can be suffocating. She’s always there, hovering about like she’s
a nurse and I’m her patient. Come to think of it, she’s a lot like my mother.
No wonder my dad drank so much. I take a long draw off my beer bottle and set
it down on the coaster.

Faye is watching me,
expectantly, with her big, brown eyes and I realize I haven’t really reacted to
the news. Smoke billows out when I exhale and prop my cigarette on the side of
the ashtray before wrapping my arms around her waist. “Are you happy?” I ask
her.

“Yes.” She smiles and touches
her forehead to mine. “My dreams are coming true.”

How could I deny her
happiness? I’d be a dolt if I did that. I give her a squeeze and kiss the tip
of her nose. “Then I’m happy too.”

Faye circles her arms
around my neck and kisses me. Her lips are sweet and taste a thousand times
better than the cigarette. With one eye open, I stub this out in the ashtray before
giving her my full attention. Faye’s affection quickly turns into something
more when she shifts and straddles my lap, which is a rare event I’m not going
to pass up.

I lower her down onto the
carpet and peel her housedress down to her hips. Her hands land on top of mine,
stopping the progress.

“Frank, what are you
doing? The neighbors…” she whispers and glances over at the large picture window.
I look in the same direction and see that the drapes are drawn to keep the heat
of the western sun out.

“Relax, Faye. It’s just
the two of us. I want to see my pregnant wife.” With this comment she moves her
hands and I pull her dress off completely. Once she’s naked I can see the
slight swelling in her abdomen and her skin is luminescent. Her breasts are
larger too. I gently caress her belly and she closes her eyes as my hand moves
lower. She parts her legs and I move in between.

“You’re beautiful,” I
whisper as I slide into her. She moans and her hands grab onto my ass, holding
me in deep. I watch as she bites her lower lip, the fresh indentation on the
plump, rosy surface always gets me going and my thrusts grow faster.

Faye is panting when we finish
and she rolls over to face me. A light layer of sweat coats her body and it
glistens like dew.

“Well, that was certainly
a surprise. We won’t be able to do that in a few months.”

“Maybe not on the floor…”
I pinch her nipple and she yelps. “What was that? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m just really
sensitive.” She’s blushing when she sits up. Covering her breasts she reaches
for her bra. “I need to go check on the casserole,” Faye says as she pulls her
dress on and leaves the room. I watch her walk away and shake my head. I
thought getting married would provide some insight into women, but I remain
dumbfounded. They’re hot one minute and cold the next.

I retrieve my pants and
put them on, not bothering with the dress shirt, which is a wrinkled mess. I
leave that on the floor and just wear my undershirt. I sit back in the chair to
finish my beer, basically picking up where I left off moments earlier.

Faye’s comment bothers me
and the invisible hand around my neck squeezes slightly.  Once we have children
running around, the spontaneous sex like what we just experienced will no
longer exist. Many of my buddies down at the dealership talk about the sex
drying up completely once kids are born. The very thought sends me reaching for
another cigarette.