Chapter 13

"Well," Mr. Guilder said, "let's get back downstairs before the girls get worried about us."

"Good idea". I chimed as we heaved up from our seats and stumbled over to the attic ladder.

***

"What were you two goons talking about up there?" Mona asked as we came down the stairwell.

"Oh, just we were just covering some business". Mr. Guilder said, "What's for dinner?"

"Grilled cheese". She said, "Why?"

"Just curious". He said.

"I guess I ought to be getting home". I interrupted, looking up at the clock. By then it was nearly 9:45.

"Can I drive him home?" Ellie asked, starting to get out of one of the chairs in the living room.

Mr. Guilder started to say something, but I raised a hand to stop him.

"That's alright Ellie". I said, "I've only got a mile to go. Heck, I can walk it easy. And besides, I wouldn't want you to waste gas for such a short trip".

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" She asked with concern.

"I'm sure. But just for luck, can I have a hug?" I asked, "That IS alright with you isn't it, Mr. Guilder?"

He said, "Hey, that's between you two. Go on ahead".

It was then that I eased over to Ellie and took her into a loving embrace. It shouldn't surprise you folks to know that as I basked in her sweet warmth again, I wished that I didn't have to leave it, especially with the thought of stalking that lonesome road with nothing between me and uncertain danger but a couple of sheets of denim and a broad strip of leather.

Unfortunately any wedding plans were at least a year or two ahead, and a second after Elvira had placed a gentle, liquidating kiss on my lips, I knew I had to go.

Mr. Guilder offered me a ride as well as I was heading towards the door, but once again I refused.

If things would have been in a different state of affairs I would never have refused either offer, but back then, something in me had begun to flinch at the thought of anyone being put in danger because of me.

(And yes, I can already hear you asking why I did that very thing earlier. But keep in mind, summer was still somewhat in session at the time and sundown wasn't until 8:30. I didn't figure on any danger then, apart from the ghost I'd just seen.)

"Oh me". I grumbled to myself as I stumbled down the Guilders' driveway.
The air outside was still nice and warm, but for all I knew I could have been in Santa's backyard at the North Pole in the middle of a January blizzard.

Naked. Standing in an open-top water tower.

The only thing that gave solace to my quaking spine was the fact that I had the Lord watching over me and that Elvira's kiss still clung to my lips like duct tape. I know that sounds sappy, but I didn't give a rip then, and I wouldn't give one now.

Still, as I started down that road I had more than enough resolutions about making the trip. Luckily I knew of a thin deer trail through the woods that I could access from where I was. I figured that that was the best move because I'd be able to duck down in the brush if I saw headlights.

So with my feeble courage building I crossed the road and carefully maneuvered onto the trail.

The moon hung brightly in the late September night as I cracked and crunched through the underbrush of the little path. And though the shadows cast through the trees were at times enough to remind me of the trouser-paving spook I'd witnessed in the shop I kept moving.

Soon I came to the very edge of my junkyard. This was where I really tensed up, because although I had always tried to rescue most of the cars I'd found on the property, there were still just enough un-resuscitated corpses sitting around to turn the night's run into a game of Russian Roulette, with Christine as the bullet.

Luckily for me the only car that looked dangerous that night was a Midnight Blue '58 Buick whose front hubs were resting on cinderblocks.

"Don't you worry, I'll bring you in for restoration soon". I thought, as I looked upon its looming bulk as I crept past. Then all of a sudden, for no discernible reason, there came a loud hiss from within that expansive stretch of rolling iron.

A while down the line I would discover the shedded skins of a timber rattler, but at the time I jumped back faster than a ping pong ball on a bungee cord, afraid that I'd met with one of Christine's relatives. Within a quarter of a second I had leapt up onto the hood of a disintegrating Caterpillar D-10 that sat across from the hungry-looking machine.

Bad move there, because the moment my boots made contact with top of that dull yellow hood, I heard a low buzz.
If I'd have not had the sense to get a move-on right then, the resulting herd of pissed-off hornets would have killed me in an unknown time faster than ΒΌ of a second.
To this day I still figure I had an angel towing me as my heavy steel-toes blazed over the dirt and dust.

Once inside the safety of my humble shop, I felt my heart again. It hadn't ticked that fast in my dream. As I wheezed and shuttered one of my hands drifted down to a space just above my knee, smashing flat a stray hornet that would have probably stung something important if I'd have been negligent.

After I shook out the corpse I instinctively switched on the light, and to my surprise I was free of any other disturbing surprises.
Gladly, I dropped down on my haunches and shambled over to the office for a shot of Neosporin spray to my then flaming leg. Thankfully that little white and yellow can was kept on top of an equally small card table near my desk.
One shot of its cool mist eased my pain instantly.

"Thank you God". I said aloud, genuinely grateful. (Mind you, I'm always grateful.)

After I was able to slowly ease up from my painful crouch, I hobbled over to my chair.
It's cool vinyl upholstery felt good to the back of my legs, (which had been uncovered the minute I zapped down my pants in an effort to get at the painful stings on my knee and on the back of my calf).

And as I sat down in the deserted shop in my sweaty shirt and a pair of equally soaked boxers I began to calm down. Within a few minutes my thumping blood-pump eased its onslaught, and my hair began to catch up with my scalp.

A few seconds more and I grabbed a fan from the same table I'd snatched the Neosporin from and I plugged it in. In half a minute the air started to coax down my fevered temperature.

I felt myself shiver just a bit, but other than that I was becoming more and more relaxed.

"Man, do I need bug spray in this joint". I thought looking out at the lot through a solid window I had in the wall just beside the will and deed.

The rest of the night went okay. The only difference was that I walked a little slower up over the trail to the house. Lucky for me the little garage beside the house blocked the view from the road, because my bare thighs were like two bars of white neon.
And yes, I was still only wearing a shirt and boxers; sue me. Those stings hurt and besides, I picked up my trousers the next day.

At any rate once I staggered into bed, (Still wearing what I had on), I went to sleep quickly. For a few seconds everything was quiet and dark within my mind. But then came that dream.