9 Seconds of Freedom, Original Suspense fiction, part 15, links to first 14 parts.

in #fiction6 years ago

“Come here,” I said.
She approached cautiously. The bed of the truck looked like a massacre at a petting zoo. Bits of fur, and little beady eyes were everywhere.

story continued after chapter links!

If you haven't read earlier chapters, get caught up!

READ PART ONE HERE

READ PART TWO HERE

READ PART THREE

READ PART FOUR

READ PART FIVE

READ PART SIX

READ PART SEVEN

READ PART EIGHT

READ PART NINE

READ PART TEN

READ PART ELEVEN

READ PART TWELVE

READ PART THIRTEEN

READ PART FOURTEEN

“They’re teddy bears,” I said.

She calmed a little. She took the light and pawed among the bodies.

“Okay,” she said.

I braced myself.

“But why are they all decapitated?” she asked. “Cause that’s crazy. Dalton, you’re driving around with a truck bed filled with decapitated teddy bears. I can’t even imagine an explanation that’s going to make me feel okay about a person who would do that. It’s weird.”

I had to agree. If I’d seen it, I wouldn’t want any kid of mine anywhere near the driver of that truck. But there was a very simple explanation.

“There’s an explanation. A very good explanation. I was going to tell you about it tonight. So, can I get this tire changed, and we can find somewhere to sit down for dinner and I’ll tell you everything, okay?” I said.

“Fine,” she said. “You can explain. Then I can decide whether I finish that dinner, or find the nearest bus station, cause this is creeping me out. And you can get your own damn spare.”

She handed me the flashlight and went back to the cab of the truck.

I changed the tire and loaded the flat tire and jack back into the truck. I pulled the canvas cover down. I sighed deeply. This wasn’t going so well. I walked up to the cab of the truck and she was smiling. I hoped that was good. It wasn’t.

“This is just my luck, Dalton,” she said. “By the way, I know that’s not your real name.”

“How?” I asked.

“Saw it on the back of the truck at the police station the day after we met,” she said. “But, you were so charming, I just thought, well, it’s okay. So, what if he is hiding? I’m hiding. Probably a good reason for it.”

Now she was crying. I didn’t know what to do. Ladies, if you ever want to make a dude feel helpless, start crying when you’re not mad. That will do it every damn time.

“This is exactly what happens to me. I meet someone, and they seem nice. They seem interested, but then pop, pop, pop, red flags. He’s a loner, he doesn’t have ID, he’s using a fake name, he’s drifting town to town. The name he is using, is printed on the back of his truck, and finally, exhibit A for the serial murderer trial, a truck bed filled with decapitated teddy bears!” she said.

She was laughing again.

I started the truck. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to get any better if I sat here until Crawford realized we’d tricked him and somehow found us.

“You’ll feel better if you get something to eat,” I said.
“Oh, you better bet you’re buying me dinner. And a drink, or maybe six. This is just my life,” she said.

She looked out the window, muttering to herself and every little while she laughed. My head started pounding.
About fifteen miles later, a neon sign came into view.

“Pearl’s Bar and Grill” it said.

I pulled off and Leeanne stomped in. I locked the truck and followed her. She was already at the bar when I got inside.

“Make it a double,” she said.

The bartender nodded.

“What’ll it be?” he asked me.

“Beer, cold, whatever you got on tap,” I said.

“You want the pint, or the growler?” he asked.

“Growler,” I said.

Two minutes later, he delivered a tanker large enough for me to hide behind. I doubted I could finish it, but I was going to try.

“Okay, I ordered us two catfish specials. You’ve got until this timer runs out to make me love you, or I’m taking your keys and you can find your own way home,” she said.

She set her phone on the bar. The timer was counting down from 45 minutes. I sighed again.

“Start with your real name. And no bullshit,” she said.

“I’ve been lied to and done enough lying in my life I’m an expert at smelling it.”

Great. Start with the easy one, why don’t you?

“No bullshit. I have no idea,” I said.

It felt good. Telling someone my secret for the first time in six months felt great. Of course, I was telling someone that would likely never speak to me again after 45 minutes. Well, nothing was perfect.

“You’re kidding?” she said.

She laughed. It was the crazy laugh from the truck, not the happy, giggly, I think I might like you laugh from last night and this afternoon. Then it got worse.

“I suppose you’re going to tell me you have amnesia?” she said. “Had a boyfriend tell me that once. Right after I caught him with his tongue in my sister’s ear. Said he temporarily forgot I was his girlfriend, instead of her. We’re not twins. See?”

She flicked the timer away and brought up a picture of her, with a petite brunette. They were smiling.

“That’s my sister Sarah, and that was her new car, she just got it that day,” Leeanne said.

I choked. They were sitting on the hood of a car that looked very familiar. In fact, I’d seen it just the night before, shrouded under a canvas tarp, in a barn just outside of Hobart Oklahoma.

“What?” she demanded. “What is it? You know something? Whatever. You got,” she checked the timer. “Forty-two minutes.”

The food came. I couldn’t eat. Not only was I fighting to save what was left of a relationship I really wanted. I knew something that I didn’t think was good, about her sister. I needed to get this over with.

“Six months ago, two cops in Kansas found me. I was sleeping in the truck we drove here in. I couldn’t remember my name, or anything else. I told them my name was Dalton West, because standing on the side of the road, it was the first name that came into mind. I saw the West Dalton Chevrolet decal on the tailgate and it just came out,” I said.

“Okay, let’s imagine there’s a parallel universe where you tell me this, before I find out you’re probably a serial killer, and I believe you. How does any of that explain what I saw?” she asked.

“This, and this,” I said.

I laid the polaroid and the string with the medallion on the bar.

“Were the only two things that were with me in the truck, except a wooden tool chest, engraved ‘Alton’ that’s a hell of a lot older than me. So, I started looking for the bear and asking about this,” I said.

I tapped the medallion.

She faltered. I could see her processing. If what I was saying was true, she was being a grade A bitch. But she wasn’t quite ready to admit defeat.

“Okay, so in this parallel universe, I also buy that finding a teddy bear will bring you back to your long-lost family. That still doesn’t explain why you’d gather up bears and rip their heads off,” she said.

I started to answer her. She put a finger on my lips.
“I’m not finished,” she said. “then, drive around with your truck bed full of them, wandering from town to town, picking up chicks.”

“I’m getting to that,” I said. “But, to be fair, you snuck into my apartment last night.”

“Fair point,” she said. “I’m listening.”

“This is where it gets weird,” I said.

“Really? Now it gets weird? What’s the rest of this, a prelude? So far, you’re making Norman Bates look like he should run for president of student council,” she said.

In that moment, I knew that she believed me. It was going to be alright. After my revelation, whatever her secret was would seem like nothing. Then I remembered a certain green Volkswagen. I swallowed.

“Okay, I have this weird dream. I think it’s my mother singing to me. It’s about the teddy bear in the picture. Man, this is hard,” I said.

I was starting to get choked up.

“Well, you’ve got 37 minutes, take your time, come up with something good,” she said.

I sang. “Mr. Ted, Got a secret in his head. When he’s tucked up tight in bed, then his secret can’t be read. But, if he should lose his head, it’s too bad for Mr. Ted.”

“What the hell is that?” she asked.

“I know, right? That’s something I think my mother used to sing to me, when she tucked me in. I can’t remember her face, but when I have the dream, it’s like she’s there,” I said.

I swallowed hard.

“Okay, so it makes you hate bears and rip their heads off? Cause that, I get,” she said.

“No,” I said.

I laughed. “I wish. No, I’m looking for this bear,” I said.

I tapped the polaroid. “I’ve got an image of something inside this bear’s head that can lead me to, I don’t know, my identity, something. But there’s more,” I said.

She said nothing. Now she was just listening. No more jokes.

“I think someone in my life needs me. They’re in danger. So, it feels like I have a limited time to figure this out,” I said.

I sighed. “And that’s all I know about myself. Literally. I haven’t shared all of this with anyone until right now,” I said.

She still said nothing. She was looking at the picture. She picked it up.

“Okay, not sure why, but I believe you. You could still be a serial killer,” she said. “But, I like your style, Dalton West.”

Leeanne threw her arms around my neck and kissed me, deep and hard. My memory gave me nothing to compare it to, but it was amazing.

When she finished, we just looked at each other.

“Now, what were you about to say about my sister? She left here four months ago, and I haven’t seen her,” she said.

“Might be nothing,” I said.

“But it’s not nothing, is it?” she said.

“No, probably not. I saw her car,” I said.

She laughed. “A green Volkswagen? So, what? Half the bugs made in the past few years were that color, is that all?”
“It was where I saw it, in a barn, just outside Hobart,” I said.

She wavered, but smiled.

“Still probably nothing,” she said.

“A barn where Hal and sheriff Crawford met when they were following me last night,” I said.

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