Letter to Belinda (49 page)

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Authors: Tim Tingle

BOOK: Letter to Belinda
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She burst into tears, and was still crying when the police arrived.

*     *     *

Meanwhile, on the Cahaba River, the beat-up casket was placidly floating down the gently flowing river. The high quality casket, which Janice had paid top dollar for, when she thought Travis was going to be needing it, was proving that it was worth the money now. This vessel intended to carry its occupant majestically into the after-life, had taken quite a licking, and still retained its water-proof integrity. The outward appearance however had suffered. It looked like the looser in a smash-up derby.

Inside this battered time capsule, Chris was still in shock over the ordeal. The lining of the casket, while pleasing to the eye, did little to pad its occupant from impact and rough treatment. He had no idea what had happened to him, other than the truck must have wrecked in some catastrophic way, and it had to have killed everyone but him, because he heard no voices, and no one was rushing to check on him. He was hesitant to peer out at the real world, for fear of what he might see.

But finally, curiosity got the best of him, and he tried to push up on the lid. It did not want to open as easily as it used to, because stress to the structure had bent the hinges, and this made it difficult to open. He shoved with all his might, and the hinges creaked, giving way slightly. The lid raised about three inches, and froze there when he relaxed his muscles. He braced himself and pushed again. This time the lid opened about one third of the way, then he heard a loud crack, and the entire lid broke loose from the casket, and slid off.

There was a splash.

He moved to raise up, and he realized that he was, in fact,
floating
in water!
What
the
hell!
he thought. The dark, yet brightly moon-lit river-scape had a mystical aura to it.
Is
this
real?
Or
am
I
dead,
and
this
is
my
lost
soul
drifting
down
the
River
Styx?
He decided it had to be real, because he was bruised and hurting too much, and because he thought he recognized the location on the river. But how in the world did he get into the river? Was this another one of his brothers’ pranks? Were they playing one on
him?

The casket was not designed to be used as a boat, and it threatened to capsize if he shifted his weight, so he tried not to move any more than he had to. He realized, to his chagrin, that he was literally up the river without a paddle. But he was able to grab both sides of the casket, and raise up to the sitting position. His mobility would have been better if he was not still bound with mummy wrap. He saw no signs of life up the river where he had come from, but far down the river he saw what looked like flashlights out in the middle of the river. He was getting closer to the lights, so he patiently waited, to see who it was. As he got closer, he heard voices, as they carried well across the water. It sounded like someone fishing. Boy wouldn’t he be a sight, floating down the river in a casket, wrapped like a mummy. Chris smiled. Suddenly the why and how he got here was not nearly as important, as he considered how easy it would be to mess with these guys.

*     *     *

In the boat, two old men were ‘jug’ fishing for catfish. They were using catalpa worms to bait their hooks, and tying their lines to empty milk jugs, which they threw out into the river. If a catfish took the bait, the jug would follow the fish and give away its location. Later, in the wee hours of the morning, they would come back and check their lines, string up the fish they had caught, and re-bait the hooks. In between checking their jugs, the fishermen would sit around their camp fire on the bank, and drink coffee, or beer.

These two had just started putting their jugs out, and had no idea there was another human being within ten miles. By the dim light of their head lamps, they were carrying out their tasks, as they caught up on the local gossip.

“Guess you heard about Bob Deason’s demise?”

“No, I didn’t. I been visitin’ my son in Mississippi.”

“Your son, is that the one what had the drug problem?”

“Naw, that was my good-for-nothin’ son-in-law. He’s still in Elmore prison. You know, for rippin’ off that ATM machine. He throwed a chain around it, and snatched it outta’ the store. All the police had to do was follow the scratches on the pavement to where they found him in an alley beatin’ on it with a hammer, trying to get it open.”

“Dumb son-of-a-bitch, wasn’t he?”

“Oh yeah, that was stupid!”

“Where do people that stupid come from?”

“He come from somewhere down below Hickstown.”

“I was datin’ a woman from Hickstown once. That was after my second divorce.”

“I remember that, but I thought it was
before
your second divorce?”

“That’s right! You’ve got a good memory, my friend! It
was
before my second divorce! It had to be, because if I remember right, it was her that
caused
my second divorce!”

The two old men cackled with laughter.

“Hand me another jug.”

“So you was visitin’ your son in Mississippi, you said?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t stay but a week. That girl he married is a bitch, if ever there was one! From the time I got there, she didn’t do nothin’ but bitch, bitch, bitch! All I wanted to do was see my grand kids, and spend some time with them, but her snotty attitude was more than I could take. If I hadn’t left when I did, I would’a said something she would’a regretted!”

“Ain’t that always the way? Young people today just get more and more disrespectful to their elders.”

“So what got him, heart attack?”

“Who?”

“You told me that Bob Deason kicked the bucket.”

“Oh yeah. Monday, I think it was. But no, it wasn’t no heart attack. His house burnt down, with him in it!”

“The hell you say!”

“That ain’t but part of it. They arrested his daughter for murder. She was at his house right before it burned, and he was found with a butcher knife in him!”

“Damn!”

“Deason always was a strange bird.”

“I didn’t know he had a daughter.”

“Well, he ain’t never been married, but he used to claim that she was his daughter. I can tell you one thing, she is one damn good looking woman!”

“I reckon I don’t know her.”

“Yeah you do! Herbert Jones’ wife, or ex-wife, I should say.”

“Is that Deason’s daughter? Herbert Jones’ ex-wife? What is her name?”

“Penelope.”

“Yeah, I know her! You’re right! She is one fine lady!”

“Well, now that sexy body of hers is goin’ to waste, because she was arrested for her dad’s murder. Probably going to prison the rest of her life.”

“I wonder if I can pay her bail, and let her stay at my house, at least until the trial? I’d treat her right!”

“You old fart! If she stays with you for awhile, the court will probably set her free, sayin’ that she has suffered enough! That she has paid her debt to society!”

“I can live with that.”

“Naw, she’ll probably stick a knife in you, and burn your house down too. Then she’d go to prison for killing her dad
,
and
one old fart!”

“What’s that up yonder?” He shined his light up river.

“Somethin’ floatin’ down.”

“Looks like an old boat.”

“It’ll be here soon enough. Pass me those worms.”

“I wonder why she killed him, her old man, I mean?”

“I heard she was on drugs. Probably went there to rob him, and got caught. That’s what I figured.”

“What the hell
is
that thing floating toward us?”

“You see all kinds of strange shit on the river.”

“Ever seen ghosts?”

“Nah!” Ain’t no such thing! I been looking for them all my life, but I ain’t seen none yet. They say right near here, where the old tressel used to cross, there was a train wreck in 1912 that killed lots of people. And gullible people that believe in such things, think that just because people was killed here, then there’s ghosts here too.”

“But you ain’t never seen any?”

“Nah! No such thing. When you die, you go to another place, you don’t stay here! That’s what I’ve always thought. But I have heard a lot of ghost tales. Right here where that wreck took place, they say there is the ghost of a beautiful woman, that wades in the shallow water, calling out the names of her three children. She is concerned, because she can’t find them. And they say the reason she can’t find them, is because they survived the wreck.”

“Shit!”

“Yeah, I know. And there’s a teenage boy been seen that does the same thing. They say he walks up to people camping, and asks them if they have seen his kid brother. Same thing. His was killed in the train wreck, but his kid brother wasn’t, so because he can’t find his brother, he’ll be lookin’ for him for all eternity. And another ghost I heard about . . .”

“For a fella’ that don’t believe in ghosts, you sure know a lot of ghost tales!”

“Tales is just tales! I don’t believe anything unless I can see it with my own eyes!”

“Then you don’t believe in UFO’s either, do you?”

“Nah! What about you?”

“Well, I seen some things I couldn’t explain, but I ain’t ready to say they was little green men! That’s a bunch of hog-wash!”

“There may be a lot of things in this world that we can’t explain right off, but I think eventually they turn out to be just ordinary shit.”

“Well then, would you try to explain how a burial coffin got in the river! Look there!”

“Is that what that is?”

“I’m almost sure of it! I seen a few coffins in my day, and that looks like a coffin!”

“It’s about to pass us. Let’s paddle over to it and take a look.” They grabbed paddles and maneuvered their boats that way, intending to intercept it as it passed. “Looks like there is something in it!”

(Chris was lying down, waiting for the right moment.)

“There’s something moving in there!”

“Probably some kind of animal.”

Suddenly, a wrapped body began to rise up out of the coffin. Just as the old men’s lights trained on it, the bloodshot eyes popped open, and the creature raised his wrapped arms. “AAARRRGGGHHH!” it snarled.

Unable to speak, the two old men reached for their oars and laid into them like men possessed! They were getting away from that thing as fast as they could. Finally a safe distance from it, and both gasping for breath, one of them grabbed at his chest, and was able to utter, “Shit! What the hell was that?”

“You’re asking me? I don’t know, but if I’d had my gun, I’d a shot the hell out of it!”

“The hell you would! You were too busy drawing water with that oar!”

“You wasn’t exactly slacking off yourself!”

“Well, whatever it was, it’s goin’ on down the river!”

“That’s a good place for it.”

“You ready to go back to camp?”

“We got three more jugs to put out.”

“To hell with them jugs! In fact, to hell with fishing! I ain’t comin’ back out here tonight!”

“Yeah, we can check our jugs in the morning, after sun-up. Let’s head in.”

They paddled in silence for a few minutes, then one said to the other, “You going to tell anybody about this?”

“About what?”

“Yeah, that’s about what I figured too. I ain’t seen nothin’ either!”

*     *     *

The casket was visibly shaking, because Chris was laughing so hard. He really got them good! But the old men couldn’t hear him laughing because they were too busy paddling as fast as they could. The bow of their little boat raised out of the water, they were paddling so fast.
They
looked
like
those
canoeing
dudes
on
Hawaii
Five-O!
he thought, as he watched them streak across the water. Too bad his brothers hadn’t seen it! He was going to have a hard time conveying to them just how funny that looked.

Thinking of his brothers, just where were they, anyway? Chris still didn’t know how he got into the river, but it was safe to bet that this wasn’t a hoax by his brothers, because the casket was a wreck. They were all in hot water for damaging the casket, so where were they? Had the truck wrecked, or run into the river, and killed everyone else? Was he the lone survivor? At this point, he had no idea. That started him thinking that perhaps he should pull up on a sand bar and leave the river, to see what was going on. He began looking for a suitable place to land, but realized that with no oar, he wasn’t able to steer, and if he leaned over far enough to try paddling with his hands, he ran the risk of capsizing. The current was carrying him well, so he just went with the flow. Besides, he saw another light down the river, and the moonlight shined on something that spanned the river.

It was the New Slab! And there was someone on the slab, so all he had to do was continue drifting. That was probably his brothers on the slab, waiting to laugh at him, and fish him out.

*     *     *

Calvin had climbed back up the steep hill, and met Cory coming down to help.

“Did you find him?”

“Nope!”

“No! What do you mean, no? We can plainly see where the casket slid down the hill!”

Calvin was having to catch his breath. “The river! . . . The casket went all the way to the river!”

“That far? Man, it’s going to be a job, hauling it all the way up from the river! I guess it was smashed up, huh? And what about Chris, is he okay?”

Calvin was shaking his head. “No, the casket’s not there! Floated down the river, with Chris in it!”

“You are kidding me! Is that wild or what?”

“Joey took your flashlight, and is following him on the bank! He wants us to drive around and try to pick Chris up down the river somewhere!”

“Okay, we can do that! Come on.”

They were both out of breath by the time they got to the truck. Cory fired it up and burned rubber, as they got back on the pavement, heading toward the New Slab, since they decided that was the best place to get down to the river with their truck.

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