9 Seconds of Freedom, Original Suspense Fiction, Part 17, Links to First 16 parts

markrmorrisjr (70)in #fiction • 6 years ago

I walked out to the truck. There was no use trying to talk her down. She came out of the barn. I held up the keys.

“Look, I’m not trying to kill anybody. I really did see a green Volkswagen in that barn just last night. I’m putting these in the ignition and I’m walking away. Do what you want. I’m sorry. I totally understand how this looks,” I said.

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Leeanne shrank to the ground. Her shoulders were heaving.
“They got my sister,” she said.

She was sobbing, hysterically.

“Who got your sister?” I asked.

“Mayor Skinner and her gang,” she said.

“Whoa, what’s she got to do with this?” I asked.

“Everything,” she said.

“Okay, look, we can’t be out here making this kind of noise, it travels. So, either lets’ both get in the truck and go somewhere to talk. Or, you drive yourself home and I’ll figure something out. But, we are not safe here, okay?” I said.

“Okay,” she said.

It was almost a whisper.

She walked to the passenger door and opened it.

“Take me home with you, please?” she said.

Three hours before, I had wanted nothing more. Now, I was beginning to feel like I had no choice. As screwed up as my life had become, I was starting to think she needed me more than I needed to find out who I was.

Leeanne curled up against my right side and passed out about five minutes down the road from the barn. She snored. I had half planned to find a motel for the night. The beer was making staying awake a challenge. I kicked the triangle vent window open. The cold blast of air did the trick.

When we arrived at Bedman’s, I unlocked the front door and propped it open with a paint bucket full of sand, that was there for that very purpose. Then I carried her up the stairs and put her in the bed. I ran back down to lock up.

Across the street, a half block down, Hal’s black sports car was still hitched to the back of a tow truck in front of Al’s, the town’s only mechanic shop. I didn’t feel a bit bad.

As it slept, this town looked its most innocent. But something was dead wrong here. It looked like I was about to find out what. I locked the truck and the hardware store door and went back upstairs.

“Dalton?” Leeanne called from the bedroom.

I walked down the hall and answered through the open door. “Yeah?”

“Don’t leave me alone tonight, please? I’ve got clothes on, and I promise not to rape, or serial kill you. I just can’t do it alone tonight,” she said.

I climbed into the old bed and she snuggled into me. The memory foam mattress, cocooned us. I didn’t move until well after eight a.m.

“Get up! Get up! Get up!” Leeanne said.

I woke to Leeanne, literally jumping on the bed. What the hell was it now? This woman had a personality for every day of the week, it seemed. I hoped that was temporary, because I was really starting to like her.

“What?” I said.

I pulled a pillow over my head. She snatched it off and physically rolled me out of the bed.

“What the hell?” I groaned.

My head was pounding, and my body had that dull ache you get when you forget to drink water after having enough beer. Not quite hung over, but close.

“You are never, ever going to believe what I found!” she said.

She was standing over me. Her smile was contagious. I smiled back. I went into the bathroom, took a piss, brushed my teeth and splashed water on my face. I ran a comb through my hair. My shoes were where I’d left them at the top of the stairs. I sat down and put them on.

“Come on! You’re slow,” she said.

“What is so important?” I asked.

“You’ll see, it’s downstairs. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. You have to see this,” she said.

I staggered down the stairs. The sunlight growing brighter with each step, was piercing a hole in my skull. I was liking her less at the moment.

“Come here!” she said.

When I got downstairs, Nana Murphy was standing in front of the counter. Leeanne was beside her.

“Guess who this is?” she said.

“Nana Murphy,” I said.

I was struggling to not be angry.

“Well, we call her Nana, but her real name is,” Leeanne said.

She held out her hands toward the old lady, like she was a prize on Price is Right.

“Annabelle Murphy,” Ms. Murphy said.

“And?” I said.

I still wasn’t getting it.

“Tell him how old you are, Annabelle,” Leeanne said.

“I’ll be eighty-seven next month,” Annabelle said.

She smiled.

“Congratulations, can I go sleep this off now?” I said.

I was about one second away from losing it. Apparently, her insanity ran deeper than I thought.

“No, you may not, don’t you get who she is?” Leeanne said.

She looked at me, then sighed.

“Do I have to explain it to you?” she asked.

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing for the past ten minutes?” I said.

“Men are slow, honey, be patient,” Annabelle said.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Leeanne said.

“Well, being frozen to death, has that effect on a person,” Ms. Murphy said.

My headache vanished. I grabbed the medallion on my wrist. I ran to Ms. Murphy.

“Wait, you’re Annabelle Murphy? The Annabelle Murphy? The one that was trapped under the ice and inspired this?” I said.

I held up the medallion.

“Well, yes, that’s what we’ve been trying to tell you,” she said.

“Um, okay, um, who am I?” I asked.

“Dalton West,” she said.

She looked proud of herself for remembering.

“I never forget a name, mnemonics,” she said.

“No, no, that’s the name on my truck, who am I?” I asked again.

She looked confused. I took out the Polaroid and showed it to her.

“Do you know who this is?” I asked.

“Well, it looks a lot like you,” Ms. Murphy said. “Oh dear, I’m afraid I don’t know what you need to know, Mr. West. I’m sorry, Leeanne, I’ve been no help at all.”

“No, no, I’m the one who’s sorry, Ms. Murphy. I’m acting like a madman,” I said.

I looked around. No one else was there.

“I don’t know who I am,” I said.

“Oh, that, yes, Miss Leeanne told me all about it,” she said. “But you mustn’t get upset. It won’t help. Maybe I can point you in the right direction?”

“That would be wonderful,” I said.

“You know what else would be wonderful?” Leeanne asked. "Breakfast. Ms. Murphy, would you come to breakfast with us?”

“Oh, yes, I’d like that. I don’t eat breakfast much these days, but I’d take a little toast. With grape jelly. Do they have grape jelly?” She asked.

“I’m sure we can find you some grape jelly,” I said.

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