Chapter 10
Sunday came and went like it always had. The preacher had given us another good sermon, (and as always, it was direct from God, and not from some crappy script), and afterwards me and the Imperial had rambled over to Chugalug Pond for some peaceful fishing.
And though the bites were as measly as they'd always been I didn't really care, because as usual my rod was screwed into the aluminum holder I'd mounted on the front right fender, and I had stretched out on the hood and fallen into another relaxing nap.
***
But now Monday'd reared its ugly noggin, and with a vivid memory of what had happened Saturday afternoon, I wasn't really flipping cartwheels about going to school.
In fact, the only thing that crowbarred me out of bed was the idea that I now had an earth-bound angel to sooth the strain of my weary load.
But like all the Mondays before, the clouds in my brain didn't stay parted long, and I soon began to worry about what kind of crap I'd gotten her into, and what's more, what kind of garbage her stepsisters would be spewing after that crap had passed.
Needless to ask, I was as nervous as a sinner on Judgment Day by the time I wheeled in and put on the parking brake.
And although this might seem crazy, I actually crawled out of my car and peeped around the door before I started for the school house.
Once inside I tried to sneak around, but unfortunately my boots weren't designed as Stealth Loafers, and like a monster from a toxic swamp, Mr. Guilder immediately popped up in the semi-empty hall.
"Hey Cunningham, wait up". He called, his PF Flyers slowly clapping towards me.
Just hearing his approach turned me into a tarmac statue, with every nerve jangling.
"Are you okay?" he asked as he drew near.
"Uh, I guess so sir". I said shakily. You'd quake too if you thought YOUR head was on the block.
"Hey, take it easy". He said, "Ellie told me what you two did. And so long as you kept things above the shoulders, you're alright".
"Thank you, sir". I said, wheezing a sigh of relief, "But now, what did that wife of yours have to say about it?"
"Well, Cunningham," he said, throwing an arm around me and pulling me up tight enough make my shoulders crack, "You owe me big. I got her to lay off of you two, but it came at a price".
Just hearing the word, "Price" sent a deep chill down my spine, because I knew of only one thing that had ever shut the flapping doors on the mouth of that walking furnace.
It was something that was so heinous that I'd have nightmares for a month after every time back when Uncle Freddie was alive. The worst part was that it was only a temporary fix.
Just thinking of it made my eyes clench hard enough to crack walnuts, and my teeth began to chatter like a caffeine-hyped Guiney Pig chawing on a piece of poorly cooked lettuce.
"Yo-Yo-Yo-You D-D-D-Di-Di-Didn't!" I squirmed. However, one look into his eyes told me he had.
"To recap, you owe me". He said with the flattest voice ever used.
"What?" I asked.
He said, "Well Cunningham, I'm a fair, laid back man. So I'll just take my bill out in services from your garage".
"N-N-Name it". I said.
"I want free roadside assistance for a year, and that includes towing and some minor repairs. You also owe me a free oil change, and I want a complete detailing this coming Friday".
I started to buck against this, but with the sounds and the darkly imagined images of the deed already strangling my mind, I agreed willingly.
Before I could say anymore, the bell chimed in its high, brassy tone, and we parted ways.
As I walked towards my locker, I looked back in time to see him limping pitifully back to his room with one hand scrubbing against the locker doors to steady himself. Truth be told, he looked like Uncle Freddie whenever the aftershock from the deed hit him.
It was then that I knew that I had another true friend in this man. And deep down, I knew I owed him more than a year's worth of service.
****
From there, the day went about like it always did. All during English class Mona shot me cold, harsh looks but surprisingly said nothing.
As one might suspect, during lunch Ellie and I sat together, with her pressed up gently against me and me divvying up the food I'd lugged in because she'd forgotten her lunch money.
She didn't quite like the coffee, but I guess my little mixture isn't for everybody.
After school let out I walked her to her Mustang and we shared a long, warm hug and a kiss before setting off for home, which had become one of the touchstones of my days.
Because whenever I was in her arms, and she was in mine, my ragged old body felt like it could rip up a full-grown sequoia tree and use it as a caber (look it up), -and my weary mind felt a peace that normally came from either Church, fishing, or whenever I got to work on a car that wasn't small enough to be overturned by a fart.
***
Speaking of farts, when I got home I managed to finish work on the Geo, although it took till nearly eight that night.
After I'd finished I called and left a message for the owners. And after that, I settled in at my desk, intent to watch the portable TV I'd installed a few weeks before.
There weren't many shows on granted, but if I tuned the flimsy antennae just right I could pick up the Big Three, as well as PBS.
That was the best out of them all, because back then PBS used to run a show called, "Psycho Dad" which had become a favorite of mine two years ago. And miraculously I had finished in time to watch it.
Sadly, this was the turning point of my day, because just as eight twenty five arrived and I geared up to watch, I was greeted instead by Bill Clinton's ugly mug giving a special address.
"Well," I said to myself as I switched off the set, "Time to close up".
With that I slowly heaved to my feet with my legs and back popping like contraband fireworks.
It was just as I had left the office and was stumbling over to the customer entrance with keys in hand, that from over my shoulder I heard the sound of music coming from the office.
I wheeled around like a gunslinger, and what I saw froze me solid.
For standing in the pale yellow light of the now lively Seeburg, I saw a dark, gaunt figure about my height and build.
And as if the sight couldn't look any more terrifying, I saw a small, jagged shaft of light from the jukebox coming through a large gash in its middle.
"Who are you?!" I demanded, clenching my car key betwixt my fingers like a makeshift razor.
Eerily, the figure remained quiet.
"Don't make me have to hurt you!" I shouted.
I'll never forget what happened next, for at that moment, the figure slowly stepped out of the office, his tennis-shoe clad feet making a deep, thunderous sound that echoed from every corner of the empty building.
As he neared, the sight of him made my blood ran cold enough to refrigerate a brigade of forty pound turkeys and a large pumpkin pie at the same time. And as he drew closer I could tell right off who he was.
He was the same man I'd saw in my nightmare Saturday…
-My late brother, Arnold "Arnie" Cunningham, dead for eighteen years.
***
His skin, or what remained, was ashen gray and full of maggot-holes…
His hair, once full and black, now hung precariously from little gray islands atop his skull.
His eyes were neon yellow, and I could see coal-black teeth though the various holes in his paper-thin lips…
His leather jacket reeked of formaldehyde, and it hung limply on the rail-thin frame beneath…
Lastly, I saw what was left of an old black shirt under his jacket. In the middle of it I saw the gash more clearly. And to my horror, it seemed to still be bleeding.
And as I stood there rooted to the concrete, I saw those shambling lips part into a sickening smile as those yellow eyes met mine.
All at once I heard him say, "Hello little brother".
"Eingh". I squeaked, unable to form a syllable.
"What's the matter?" the specter asked, "Afraid of your own kin?"
"Eek". I squeaked again.
"Say, it looks like you've met my old friend Dennis". He said with a smirk, "Well, the next time you see him, tell him I said hi".
"Hurgh…" I croaked, with my body still as solid as a stone carving.
"Well, I've got to go. But before I do, here,-you might need this".
His bony left hand fished around his back pocket, and then he took one of my frozen mitts and placed in it a remarkably fresh sliver of newspaper.
Then before I could eke out another sound, he withered away into the dim lights of the shop.
The second he did, I felt a hand lightly touch me on the back.