Keeper Read online

  “It’s over, you know,” he said tersely.

  She gave no response.

  “Why are we always pissed off at each other?” he asked, reaching with his right hand to pat her lightly on the knee. She stared past him at streaks of lightning to the west. Charlie continued, “We’ve got to face facts—it’s just not working. We’re only making each other miserable.”

  At least they were thinking along the same wavelength, Nancy thought, wiping her eyes. Suddenly, a sharp bolt of lightning sheared the top of a tall pine just ahead. Nancy jumped at the resulting explosion of thunder.

  “Can’t we at least try to work out our problems?” she sobbed. “What can I do to keep you from getting mad at me all the time?”

  “I don’t know,” he sighed. “We just weren’t meant for each other, I guess.” Charlie stared ahead impassively.

  Nancy watched his face illuminated by the glow of the dashboard lights. How could he cast aside a six-year relationship so coldly, without so much as a single tear? But he was definitely right. Still, it hurt to hear him say so. Nancy sniffled again, trying to hold back another wave of tears. But then she lost control, and covering her face with both hands, felt the warm drops trickle down her wrist.

  “Cry on your own time,” Charlie complained. “Not while I’m around to hear it.”

  The silent tears continued to flow, but finally Nancy managed to regain control of herself. “Please try to make it through this weekend without causing a scene,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I don’t want Liz to see us like this.” Trying to force a smile that refused to come, she managed a small laugh which ended up a tearful sob. “Here I am, traveling to another state to console my cousin for her broken heart, and my life is more of a disaster than hers”

  Charlie stared blankly ahead, a grim expression on his face. “If you weren’t so fuckin’ dependent, such a fuckin’ leech …” he began, but as he ranted on his words faded from Nancy’s consciousness.

  Her thoughts had returned to Gary Thompson back home in Columbus, and their physical relationship that never quite got off the ground. She remembered how nice it had felt to be held in his arms. Surely there’d be other men who’d be more appreciative of her than Charlie, she thought, turning to stare at him in disgust. Yes, she realized, it was too late to turn back now, in more ways than one.

  Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were heavily involved in another clash with T.H.R.U.S.H. as Wayne and Barry watched intently. Draining a third beer, Barry crumpled the metal can with both hands.

  “Hey, you’re still nursing your first beer. You’re not turning teetotaler on me, are you?”

  Wayne blushed and placed his own half-empty can on the floor. “No,” he explained, “I don’t have any moral hang ups—it’s just not my favorite drink, that’s all. But I don’t mind serving suds to my buddies.”

  “You don’t owe me any explanations,” Barry countered as he patted his stomach. “Sometimes I wish I’d never tasted the evil brew.”

  Their laughter was interrupted by the telephone.

  “Aw, shit,” groaned Wayne. “I told Mom not to call tonight.”

  Wayne stumbled to the telephone and, sure enough, it was his mother. Barry held an imaginary telephone receiver to his ear and silently mimicked a jabbering woman. Wayne shot him the finger as his mother’s voice droned into his ear.

  “Mom, just wait, before you go any further,” Wayne snapped. “I told you I’d be busy tonight.”

  “But it’s your father again,” her voice wailed. “He came home from work today madder than I’ve ever seen him. And he was as drunk as a coot, too.”

  “So, let him sleep it off—”

  “He hit me, Wayne. He hit me hard this time,” she sobbed. “And just now, he stomped out of here and said he was going fishin'.” She sniffled once, twice, awaiting a response, but receiving none from Wayne, finally continued. “The weather’s supposed to get nasty and I’m afraid he’ll pass out and freeze. He can’t do no fishin', Wayne. He’s so drunk, he can hardly walk.”

  “Dammit, Mom—what am I supposed to do?”

  “Please go out and find him. It won’t take long—you know where he always goes.”

  “Mom, I’m busy—”

  “Wayne, you’ve got to,” she begged. “I won’t get any sleep till I know he’s safe.”

  “Mom-”

  Barry staggered to his feet and grabbed his coat. “Don’t let me interfere,” he whispered. “I need to hit the sack early tonight, anyhow. Big day ahead tomorrow.”

  Wayne shrugged and shook his head. “All right, all right,” he growled into the receiver. “But I swear, Mom, this is the last time. If I have to move a thousand miles from here, Dad will never screw up my plans again.”

  “Hurry, son—please …” her voice faded as he hung up the phone.

  “Shit!” Wayne cursed. “I’m sorry, Barry,” he said, explaining the problem and asking him if he’d like to come along.

  “Nah,” said Barry. “I really do need to be going anyway.”

  Apologizing once more, Wayne shook his head. “I can’t believe this is happening again,” he said. His Dad had been a source of embarrassment for years, often passing out on the shores of Kelley Creek—but never before in life-threatening weather.

  Barry slipped into his overcoat and pushed the door open. Outside a cold wind was howling, whistling through the naked trees, but the rain had yet to fall. “I’ll let you know how it turns out tomorrow night,” he called back as he raced for his car.

  “Good luck at the drive-in!” Wayne shouted above the rising wind.

  “Slow down, Charlie—you need to turn off somewhere near here.” Nancy peered ahead but the black of night obscured her view. “It’s been years since I was here last, and Liz told me the roads have changed.”

  “Rain and sleet—that’s all I need,” Charlie complained.

  A thin fog blanketed the area, misting over the car windows. The weather was changing rapidly, and driving had become a strain.

  “I’m getting cold, Charlie. Can you turn up the heat?”

  Charlie frowned, and pushed the heat control a fraction higher.

  “There it is!” Nancy screeched. “Turn left!”

  The spray from a passing truck doused the windshield with a grimy film. Charlie irritably switched the wipers to a higher speed and slowed the car, turning the Falcon left onto a freshly paved road. He noticed that his wife’s depression seemed to lift as they neared their destination.

  “I wish I could see the countryside,” Nancy rambled on. “When I was a kid I traveled these roads everyday. It seems like ages since I lived here.”

  Loose gravel clicked beneath the bottom of the car as Charlie uttered a tired yawn. Her words droned on, hardly registering in his mind.

  “… and most of these roads were dirt back then, and narrow. When you met a car coming from the opposite direction, you just had to pull over and let the other one pass. It’s amazing how everything changes—”

  About to interrupt her unending narrative on old-time rural life, Charlie cleared his throat, but a gust of wind suddenly rocked the car, prompting his attention to the steering wheel in order to correct its course. The relentless rain grew heavier, its drops exploding in tiny flashes of white across the hood and windshield. Nancy shuddered. The rain was so intense, it sounded as if a flock of crazed woodpeckers had attacked the car. “Don’t you think you should slow down?” she said. “I mean, we can hardly see where we’re going.”

  Charlie’s thoughts were now centred on a warm bed. Tired of traveling long before, he was now ready to rest. Nothing seemed more appealing than a comfortable mattress piled high with blankets and quilts.

  A rumble of thunder shook the car. Nancy sat stiffly upright, gazing through every flash of lightning at the road ahead.

  “Charlie, please slow down. There are some dangerous curves on this road.”

  The accelerator sank closer to the floor.

  Jagged lines of lig
htning seemed to break the sky in two. Nancy shivered as waves of water washed over the windshield; the wipers were now at their highest speed and unable to clear the view. Terror rose inside her. Her stomach felt queasy, her skin began to burn.

  Something was wrong. And Charlie’s careless attitude was dangerous.

  Suddenly the car bottomed out, swaying on its weakened springs and spraying waves of muddy water from each of its wheels.

  He can’t see well enough to drive, Nancy realized. And, God, this isn’t the right road. It’s unpaved and rough and—“Charlie, please,” she squealed. “Stop the car!”

  But even as the words passed her lips, she knew it was too late.

  An unimproved road, unsuitable for travel, paralleled the east bank of Kelley Creek for a thousand yards or so, beginning at its intersection with the recently paved County Road 19, known to the locals as Selton Road. Drunks, fishermen, and necking teenagers alike frequented the place, but tonight’s threatening weather had canceled most plans. At the terminus of the narrow road, the small parking area, where at all hours one or two cars and trucks might normally be found, was empty. This was the chosen haunt of both loners and lovers, because of its veritable isolation. James Crocker was one of the locals who preferred the area more for its relative seclusion than for its prospects as a “fishin’ hole.” And like James, other loners also brought with them a supply of booze to help them escape a fast-changing Southern lifestyle they no longer understood.

  As the Impala’s headlights pierced the darkness and danced through a thicket of trees, Wayne noted the absence of other cars. Regardless, he stopped the Chevy, cut the ignition, and reached for a flashlight in the glove compartment. His Dad had occasionally been known to park on the opposite shore, but should still be visible across the narrow creek.

  A cold, clinging mist hung in the air. Zipping his jacket, Wayne stepped into the night where a bitter wind whipped his jacket and stood his hair on end. Only a fool would venture out on a night like this, Wayne thought. And what better example of that than Dad?

  Thank goodness Barry had understood. It had been a shame to interrupt their evening, but the news of Barry’s date with Allison Winters had been disturbing and, truthfully, Wayne had been ready for Barry to leave. Though he was proud of Barry’s good fortune, his friend’s recent success only served as a reminder of his own shortcomings. What was Allison Winters like, and how had Barry managed to attract her? Allison haunted Wayne’s thoughts, and for a shameful moment he wished she would break poor Barry’s heart. But, no, it was wrong to think such things. Barry deserved the best, just as he, Wayne, did.

  Dejected, Wayne reviewed his own social history. Only once had he dated the same girl more than three times and it had still ended in a massive putdown. What could be wrong with him? He wasn’t bad looking; of course, neither was he considered handsome. Average, maybe. Still, he had known several less appealing guys who seemed to have no problems attracting girls. Women just seemed so threatening. Over the years he had actually dated a few of the more popular girls, only to be denied a second chance with any of them. It wasn’t as if he was overly aggressive—if anything, he was far too shy, and they had obviously sensed his overpowering insecurity.

  Of the many girls he courted for only one evening, Susan had been the one he wanted most. She was both attractive and modest, sweet and understanding. He felt unusually comfortable with her that night, dining out at the Pell City Steak House and later catching a movie. And when he took her home and generated enough nerve to kiss her goodnight, he found passion in her lips. A surge of desire ripped through his body, feelings he’d never experienced with such intensity, and for one brief moment, Wayne believed the seemingly endless string of lonely nights were finally about to end. Unfortunately, the very next day Susan’s former boyfriend, Harold Gaskins, re-entered her life, and all was lost. She let Wayne down gently, but his ego had suffered another devastating blow.

  Now he would be on the sidelines again, watching Barry and Allison. “Spectator in the game of love,” that’s what he’d jokingly called himself. But, God, how the truth hurt.

  How did Allison look? Where did she live? Of course, it really didn’t matter. She and Barry were having their third date, and that certainly hinted at some type of attraction. What if they were to get serious? Marriage could be a real possibility, and then who could Wayne turn to for moral support? Barry would no longer have time for him.

  A cool raindrop broke against Wayne’s forehead and rolled down his nose. Ahead lay the dark waters of Kelley Creek. Wayne aimed the flashlight at the flowing water and watched the rain increase, peppering the creek with tiny splashes and battering the kudzu on a nearby embankment.

  “Dad?” he yelled. Blasts of wind slammed into his face as he stepped along the shore, and Wayne hugged his jacket closer, feeling a sudden need for warmth. Scanning the shoreline with the flashlight, he saw no one.

  “Dad, it’s time to go homer

  A blinding bolt of lightning bleached the darkness, its resounding crash of thunder roaring in his ears.

  Jesus, Wayne thought. I’ve got to get out of this!

  Ahead loomed the monstrous new bridge where Selton Road had been re-routed. He had almost forgotten its proximity, as the bridge’s construction had only recently been completed.

  Curtains of rain drenched the area, quickly turning the path along the creek to mush as Wayne raced for shelter beneath the bridge. Already cold and shivering, he leaned against the abutment to shield himself from the wind and catch his breath. Again he swept the flashlight in all directions, but saw nothing. The group of large boulders where his Dad usually rested lay just ahead, but the spot was vacant.

  “Dad!” he yelled again, then cut himself short. It was no use. The noise of the elements would mute his call even if his Dad were only ten feet away.

  “Shit!” Wayne cursed and stomped the ground. Damn, it was getting cold.

  The wind whirled stronger, cutting through his wet clothing and almost knocking him from his feet. The onslaught of bitter cold and lightning was terrifying, as with each blast of wind the smaller trees along the shore doubled over, some snapping in half. It seemed that within seconds the stream had gained strength from the floodwaters fed from the north, and the night had erupted into a tumultuous frenzy.

  God, this is tornado weather, Wayne thought, but his fear of the savage winds faded as he stared upstream.

  Between intermittent flashes of lightning Wayne saw that the old bridge had been partially dismantled, its midsection now a darkened void. And traveling directly toward it, on a section of old roadway that should have been closed to traffic, he saw the headlights of an automobile.

  3

  Liz Farrell positioned her hefty body on the living-room sofa of her parents’ Selton home and peeked excitedly through the blinds at the heavy rain. Not a car was in sight. Occasionally the house lights flickered, threatening a power failure from high winds and lightning.

  Disappointed again, she slumped to the sofa and contemplated the arrival of Nancy. The two had been inseparable throughout childhood until Nancy’s family moved to Georgia in 1957. It had been years since the two exchanged month-long summer visits. Liz remembered their confidential conversations—from the time Nancy first admitted an attraction to the opposite sex, to her own confession at age sixteen of having allowed a boy to touch her breasts. They had each been unusually pretty and were quite popular at the local hangouts.

  For years Liz had entertained a number of boyfriends, most of whom wanted nothing more from life than to get inside her pants. But Liz’s Southern virtue had prevailed in most cases. Only twice before she met John had she allowed boys to go “all the way,” and she had grown tired of both lovers soon afterward. But John had been special. With him she had looked forward to marriage and she had given herself freely to him on several occasions.

  Then came the uncontrollable weight problem.

  Attributable to a glandular malfunction, the condition
was unaffected by various diets prescribed by her doctor. And slowly she watched John’s attention drawn away by more slender girls. Only two weeks ago he had formally ended their relationship while simultaneously announcing his engagement to Charlotte Cummings. And when Nancy had heard the news only two days ago, she had vowed to return to Selton for a weekend visit to comfort her dear friend and cousin.

  Martha Farrell, Liz’s mother, entered the room and noted the anxiety on her daughter’s face.

  “Settle down now,” she said. “Nancy’ll be here before you know it.”

  Liz groaned and glanced at the clock on the mantle as she flipped through a copy of Progressive Farmer on the coffee table.

  “I know,” she said. “You just don’t realize how happy I’ll be to see that girl.”

  His heart racing, his face frozen with fear, Wayne watched the headlight beams bounce along the rugged terrain, the car’s speed never slowing. And through the driving rain, as the car reached the vast abyss of missing bridge, he watched it plummet forward, continuing ahead in mid-air and then slowly arcing downward. It dropped to midstream as if in slow motion, a horrifying sight Wayne couldn’t believe he was actually witnessing. A gigantic splash sent mud and grime in every direction, as concentric waves of water rolled from the point of impact and sloshed to both sides of the stream. The automobile floated briefly, then slowly took on water and began to sink as it drifted downstream in his direction.

  The eerie glow of headlights shining through the water remained faintly visible, and clouds of steam hissed from beneath the car’s partially submerged hood. Then, quietly, the headlights shorted out, and the car was now visible only during recurring flashes of lightning.

  For a moment Wayne stood motionless, a sick feeling welling inside his stomach. Never had he witnessed a potentially fatal accident. But then a crash of thunder revived his senses and he raced upstream to meet the sinking vehicle. Twenty feet or so from shore, only the windows and roof of the automobile could now be seen.