Rogue's Hollow (9 page)

He wiped a tear from his cheek with the stub of his index finger and looked at Travis, trying to make sense of it all. “Moral of the story: shit happens.”

Travis grinned. He couldn’t help it. It was totally inappropriate, but he couldn’t stop himself. As hard as he tried to hold it back, he began to laugh. Then he looked at Malachi and apologized, “I’m so sorry. That was really rude of me.”

Malachi waved his hand. “Laughter is good for the soul and it’s never rude to me. Travis, I was angry for so many years. Ugly angry. Festering deep in my soul, spiteful mad.” He leaned in close. “I know all too well what it feels like to hold that kind of anger inside. When it comes out, it rages, sometimes uncontrollably. I get it.”

With a reassuring grin, he said, “I also feel like this is a second chance in some strange way. Lukas was taken from me at that spot on Witch’s Bend and tonight, there was a very good chance that you would also lose your freedom, because of a stupid mistake.” Shaking his head vehemently, he scowled and said, “Not on my watch. I just can’t allow that to happen. Let’s be smart now and use this to our advantage. Learn from your mistakes and be wise, Travis. You have your entire life ahead of you. Don’t waste it on something stupid, like Junior Barnett.”

Travis extended his hand to Malachi. “Thank you. I can never repay you for all you’ve done for me. I’ll try my best not to let you down.”

Malachi shook his hand firmly and smiled. “That’s all anyone can ask, son. Now, let’s get you on home.”

The drive into Canal Fulton was solemn. Both men were deep in thought as the events from the day played and replayed in their minds. Malachi parked out front of the apartment building. It was very late and cold, no one was left loitering outside. Malachi nodded at Travis. “Remember what I said. Use your head, Travis. This too shall pass, just lay low and think before you speak.”

“Thanks, Malachi. I appreciate the ride and everything else, too.”

“No problem, son. I’ll see you soon.”

As he watched Travis make his way up the staircase and unlock the door, his heart grew heavy. Could they make this work? Would they get away with it? Even though it was Travis who’d done the killing, Malachi was now an accomplice. He had to do everything in his power to protect Travis. It wasn’t his fault, he just snapped. Malachi knew that feeling. When the pain and anger rages inside you for that long, as soon as the doorway opens just a crack, it can burst wide open in an uncontrollable surge that no one could have predicted.

In some odd way, Malachi felt like he’d been given his son back. He knew that Travis wasn’t technically his son, but he could still get a second chance and help the young man. He could be a part of his life. Malachi had a lot to teach and Travis had a lot to learn. Life is hard, maybe somehow, they could help each other.

Nine

T
wo weeks went by and Travis never came to visit. Malachi had grown accustomed to seeing him almost every day. He sat out front of his store in an old rocking chair watching his angel plant flourish in the sunlight. Although he understood why Travis might be keeping his distance, he still missed the kid terribly.

What a shame. How could life take such a horrible turn like this? They’d had so much fun setting up the cryptics to scare Junior. It was a perfect plan. Malachi beat himself up, he should have anticipated that an inexperienced driver might react that way. They didn’t take into account the high rate of speed at which he was traveling or the amount of alcohol in his system. These were all factors that Malachi felt he should have been prepared for.

He read the paper and watched the news everyday. The coverage didn’t last long. The reporters said, “Local teen was killed in a single vehicle accident Saturday night. He was traveling at a high rate of speed and alcohol is believed to be a factor.” It appeared to be all Junior’s fault and nothing more was ever said, publicly anyway.

The funeral had been held on the following Thursday. Malachi wondered if Travis had gone to it. He wished that he could have been there for him, but knew that the best thing was to keep their distance from each other right now and act like it never happened. Sitting alone in a dimly lit room, his mind wandered as he worried about Travis and wondered how he was handling it all. An emotional trauma like this can bring up feelings you’re not prepared for and have no idea how to handle.

The nightmares had started again. Malachi thought he was over all that. But, somehow the crash with Junior vividly brought back that foggy evening in July of 1980. Malachi was outside working on the bridge. Mera had run into town to pick Lukas up from a birthday party. The tourist was speeding on a narrow blind curve. His car went left of center and hit Mera’s head on. Even though his family was their seatbelts, they were killed.

Lukas died instantly, sustaining a severe blow to the head. There was no pulse when Malachi arrived on the scene, but Mera was still alive. He’d heard the crash from the mill and took off running. He’d never forget that sound. The crushing metal, breaking glass and the screams of pain and anguish. Those were the memories that still haunted him.

But, what disturbed him even more was the sight of his family. The blood and suffering. Mera reached out for Malachi. Her legs were pinned under the dashboard when the front-end was smashed backwards into their seats. The steering wheel was pressed firmly against her chest and as hard as Malachi tried, he could not free her from the wreckage. Every time he would try to move her, she screamed out in excruciating pain.

The driver of the other car was still alive and begging for someone to help him. Malachi stayed with his family, desperately trying to release the grasp of the twisted metal from Mera. Realizing he couldn’t do it, he kissed her forehead and said, “Hang on, honey. I’m gonna go call for help. I’ll be right back.”

Racing back to the mill, he grabbed the phone and called for an ambulance. By the time he got back to Mera, she was gone. She was peacefully quiet, no longer suffering in pain. He shook her, desperately trying to wake her up, but she never did.

Malachi fell down beside the car, pounding his fists into the dirt and crying out to the sky. “Why, God? How could you allow this to happen? I’m begging you to bring them back. Please!” Malachi’s prayers went unanswered.

The driver of the other car was still coherent and crying out for help. “I’m trapped. Something’s stuck in me. Help me, please.” He pleaded with Malachi. Then, his car caught on fire and began to burn.

Malachi was beyond distraught with emotion. He couldn’t even move. He sat paralyzed by shock and watched the man suffer in pain, never lifting a finger to help him. How could he? For some reason Malachi couldn’t justify trying to help the man who’d just murdered his beloved family. He sat idly by, almost willing pain on the man, hoping that he would suffer and wishing he would die. Flames engulfed the car. The man screamed out and within just a moment or two, he was silenced. Somehow it gave Malachi a feeling of satisfaction at the time, but the image of that man suffering still haunted him.

Malachi couldn’t move. He was left behind, sitting on the ground beside his family’s car, holding what was left of his heart in his hand and cursing out loud at the only God he’d ever known.

When the ambulance finally arrived, they found Malachi gently stroking his son’s hair, telling him how much he loved him. It was a heartbreaking scene.

That was the worst night of Malachi’s life. He fought the nightmares for years, barely getting any sleep. Roberta was actually the one consistent person who would stop by and check on him. He never forgot her kindness. Some days, she would even tend to his plant for him or help out in the store when the darkness set in. Sometimes it was just too much and he had to be alone. He couldn’t face anyone and would take off into the woods for days on end.

His mama was still alive then. She minded the store while Malachi attempted to put the remaining pieces of his life back together. Three years later, his mama got sick and died that same year. Roberta brought him food and helped him through those dark times as well. Some days, when sadness grabbed hold of his soul, Malachi couldn’t even get out of bed. Roberta jumped in and ran the store for him. She acted tough as nails on the surface, but Malachi knew the real Roberta. She had been a good friend to him when it felt like the rest of the world had abandoned him.

Everyone else left him alone to try and make sense of his life. All he could see was that his existence had absolutely no purpose anymore. Those were the dark days, where evil lurks just waiting for the chance to comfort you. There were days when the darkness seemed to be his only friend. It understood the silence and the twisted thoughts going through his mind. It encouraged suffering.

Malachi was no stranger to suffering. With time, he was able to hide it well, but occasionally the pain would come home for a visit. When that happened, he would try to focus on the good, but sometimes the bad overwhelmed him. Working hard to keep the memories at bay, he mundanely tended to the boring routine which had become his daily life.

Malachi rarely left the mill. It had been a while since he’d stocked the pantry and it cried out for supplies. He decided to wander over to Canal Fulton rather than Doylestown this time. Maybe he could stop by and check on Travis while he was there. But, how could he do that? He couldn’t just show up on the kid’s doorstep. What if his mom answered the door? How would he possibly explain his visit? Everything had gotten so complicated.

Rosie purred as they made the twenty-minute haul into town. Malachi drove past Travis’s apartment to see if just by chance he might be outside. Parking his truck, he anxiously craned his neck searching for a sign of the teenager, but he was nowhere to be found.

Feeling defeated and not sure what else he could do, Malachi headed to the grocery store in town to pick up a few items. It was early and there were very few customers. Most folks like to sleep in on Saturday mornings. Malachi had the place pretty much to himself.

As he walked the aisles, he talked to himself under his breath. “What do you think you’re going to do, old man?” He shook his head and reprimanded himself, “Mind your own business, and leave the kid alone.” He paid the cashier and gathered his goods.

Slowly making his way to Rosie, he loaded the bags into the damp truck bed where he noticed a dark spot on the floor. Reaching over as far as he could, he wiped it with the handkerchief from his back pocket. His face ran pale as a ghost when he looked at the rag. It was blood. As his mind and heart began to race, adrenaline surged deep inside him. Folding up the hankie, he coyly looked around to see if anyone was watching. There was no one else around. Surely, it must be Junior’s blood. He consolidated two bags of groceries into one and used the empty bag to stash the hankie. Tying it tightly into a knot, he tried to act nonchalant.

He placed the bag on the floorboard of the front seat, buckled himself in and started Rosie up for the solitary drive home. He anxiously looked around, trying not to appear suspicious. The parking lot was fairly deserted. He breathed a sigh of relief as he said to himself, “How the hell did I miss that? Careless, Malachi. Very careless.”

His attention was drawn to a car across the lot. It was parked at an odd angle, obscurely on its own, away from the building. Two people emerged from the passenger side in a cloud of smoke. They leaned into the car, talking to the driver and began to laugh as they looked around to see if anyone was watching. Malachi looked down, like he was paying no attention to them. But, he was. He tried to figure out if the kids were getting an early start or if it was an overflow party from the previous night. He intently scrutinized their every move because he recognized one of the teenagers. It was Travis.

What was he doing with a crowd like this? From the looks of it, these kids were up to no good. It took everything in Malachi’s power not to run over to Travis and snatch him away from the hoodlums. He had to say something. There was no way that he could just drive away and not say anything to his young friend. He wanted to make sure that he was okay and to let him know that he cared about him.

Sitting quietly, he watched them for a while and then slowly dropped Rosie into drive and headed their way. As he got closer, the kids began to stash things into their pockets and turn their faces away, avoiding eye contact. That didn’t sit well with Malachi. He pulled right up alongside the beat-up, piece of crap car and came to a dead stop. He rolled down his window and startled them when he said, “Travis?”

As the young man turned around, Malachi could see the panic on his face. Like the cat that had eaten the canary. He looked pale and his eyes avoided contact. His shaggy hair hung in a disheveled mess that covered up most of his face. When he finally realized who it was, his face softened a bit. “Hey, Malachi. How’s it goin’?”

His friends acted nervous, like they’d been busted. That was not Malachi’s intention, to stir stuff up. But he desperately wanted to talk to Travis, alone. “I haven’t seen you in a while, son. Can you get in, so we can talk for a moment?”

Nervously, the other kids said, “We gotta go, man. You cool here with the old dude?”

Travis nodded and watched them drive off. He opened Rosie’s passenger door and slid into the front seat beside Malachi. He was still avoiding eye contact, which made Malachi uncomfortable.

He inspected his young friend’s face and finally said, “How have you been, Travis?”

“Grand and dandy,” he replied, still doing everything in his power to avoid the constant stare.

“I’ve been worried about you. Is everything okay?” Malachi studied his face, just waiting for the moment when their eyes would meet. He wondered what he would see in them. Remorse, anger, fear? Or, was the kid just wasted out of his mind?

“It’s cool. I’m fine,” he replied staring down at his grungy tennis shoes while his leg twitched like mad. His foot brushed along the bag on the floor, completely oblivious to what was inside.

The dark circles under Travis’s eyes were a telltale sign that he was far from fine. And there was no mistaking the reeking smell of marijuana. “Travis, look at me.” Malachi spoke with determination, almost demanding that Travis make eye contact with him.

“What?” he replied harshly as he glanced over.

When their eyes met, Malachi held them. He stared long and hard into the young man’s soft, brown eyes. They reminded Malachi of doe eyes, warm and caring. They reminded him of Lukas.

“Travis, I’ve been worried sick about you. Are you okay?” The tone in his voice made the young man grin.

“You sure are a worrier, aren’t you?”

“When it comes to people that I care about, yes, I guess I am. Sue me. Now, answer the question.”

Travis became agitated. “I already told you that I’m fine. What more do you want from me?”

“I want to believe you.” He inspected the young man’s face, and said, “Are you high, Travis?”

He stared out the window, numb and detached. “Whatever. Why do you care what I do anyway?”

Malachi grabbed the back of his hand. “Because, I care about you, son.”

Travis pulled his hand away and snapped at him, “I’m not your son and I already told you that I’m fine.” He looked at his watch and acted like he had some place that he needed to be. “I gotta go, Malachi. I’ll see you later.”

Malachi quickly replied, “Travis, please, just give me one more minute.”

Taking his hand off the door handle, he looked into Malachi’s blue eyes. They held his stare. “Travis, I’m sorry. You’re right, you are not my son. I know that. But, you are someone that I care about and consider my friend. I know that you’re going through a lot right now. I just want you to remember that you’re not alone. I’m here for you. If you ever need me, you know where to find me. Okay?”

Travis sniffed and fought back a stray tear. He hadn’t felt like anyone truly cared about him in a long time. His life was such a mess and he was overwhelmed with feelings that he couldn’t begin to sort out. Dark feelings. He felt odd, like he wasn’t even human. How could he have done that? What kind of a monster does something like that? The nightmares crept into the daylight, until it all seemed dark. He felt that there was no light left in any corner of his life. How could he tell Malachi all that, when he couldn’t even make sense of it himself? As hard as he’d tried, he couldn’t seem to be a good person. Maybe he really was just like his father after all. All he wanted to do was numb his own feelings and make them go away.