8

Chapter 6

David was in the fields…shucking corn by hand. It was harvest season…over a year after he'd returned home.

He made quick work of each ear, plucking and ripping its husks, over and over, almost like a trance. It was so monotonous. He'd loved doing it as a small child…but it had long since lost its magic.

"David!" his mother called from the house. David was in the middle of slicing another ear of corn. Pausing…he tossed the ear on the ground.

Brushing himself off, he headed for the house. His mother stood on the front steps with several glasses of thirst-quenching lemonade.

David grabbed one and gulped the ice-cold nectar down, brushing away the sweat from his brow.

"Would you be a dear and run an errand for me?"

David grumbled a response.

Taking off his gloves…he headed for the barn, where he stashed his old hover-cycle.

David took the long way to town, enjoying his brief moment of freedom from the monotonous work. He took the winding back-roads, feeling the power of his cycle beneath his hands.

The wind whipped through his hair as he went faster and faster. He could feel his adrenaline pumping…and he only wanted it to pump faster.

He swerved around other people and small creatures frolicking in his path. David paid no attention to them…barely missing each and every one of them.

David arrived in town, quickly stashing his cycle away. He glanced about…taking in the sights. Ancient buildings running side-by-side…left standing from centuries ago.

Hundreds of people went in out and out of the shops; folks at and laughed at the cafes; some chitchatting; others just walking along the sidewalks.

The clutter made David's stomach turn.

As he walked…David took great pains to avoid eye contact. He would look at the ground. Or his shoes…or look past whoever passed him.

Without realizing it…David found himself standing in front of a local bar. It was quite old and decayed…another hold-over from centuries ago. He stood there for several minutes…gazing at the front door. He felt a brief rush of excitement…and a twinge of guilt in the pit of his stomach.

David took a step forward; his excitement grew. And the guilt as well.

He put his hand on the door knob…freezing in that moment. He began contemplating his choice. The guilt began to grow more and more.

A patron from the bar stumbled out the door…brushing David roughly to the side. The gesture was enough to make David's feelings subside for a moment.

David quietly slipped into the establishment. The lighting was very dim; everything was grimy. There was only a handful of people; men who looked like they hadn't bathed in months. They stunk even worse.

David slid onto a bar-stool gingerly…laying his hands down on the sticky surface in front of him. His eyes darted back and forth throughout the room…carefully avoiding eye-contact.

"What'll it be, son?"

The bar tender looked equally decrepit; his teeth were a putrid-yellow. His skin looked like water-damaged leather; and his eyes were half-way sunken into his skull. The sight of him made David's stomach turn.

"I'll have a whiskey," David said softly, his eyes on the bar table. The bar tender grunted a bit.

"Kid…you'll have to speak up," he groaned. His voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

David spotted an old man in the corner. He was probably well over sixty; he was fat and filthy like the rest. What caught David's eye was the look on the man's face. Or lack thereof. It was completely vacant. Not an ounce of emotion. His eyes looked almost empty…as if someone had taken a melon peeler and scooped them right out. He couldn't take his eyes off him. David just sat there…staring back into the man's empty eyes. The sight of him sent shivers down his spine.

"Kid!"

David slowly peeled his eyes away…and turned back to the bar tender. With a sweeping gaze he inspected the room again. He could hear the bartender grumbling something in an irritated tone…but to David it was just white noise. The guilt started flooding back…drowning him in painful feelings. He could feel his legs shaking. His knuckles started tightening and growing pale.

In a swift but gentle movement…David got to his feet. He headed towards the door…taking one last look back. The bar tender was shouting something angrily at him.

Like a canvas being doused in water…the whole scene washed away in a blur.

David found himself walking again…just like he used to. He passed the myriad of shops; the cafes buzzing with unique aliens and humans; the sounds of footsteps and shouting, chit chatting about this and that. A box filled with assorted fruits flew from a shop-owners hands into David's path; he didn't acknowledge or seem to notice. He kept his eyes on the ground…watching each tile of concrete…cracked and worn from hundreds of years, possibly millions of feet plodding upon it. Each tile he became more and more consumed with every line and contour.

As the sidewalk ended…David stood there for a moment. He gazed at the curb for what felt like hours. Each second passing he felt more and more frantic.

David finally took a seat; he out-stretched his legs into the weathered street…left-over from an era booming with combustion-engines. He felt the rough concrete on his rear-end: cold and ragged.

When David looked upwards…he discovered he'd made his way to the out-skirts of town. The sun was setting…and he could see the dirt-road out-stretch for miles. A man was walking silently…carrying a bundle under his arm. A small shuttle was passing over-head.

"Kinda pretty…isn't it?"

David slowly turned; an older woman was hovering a few feet away. She had a kind face…very friendly.

"Yeah," David uttered softly. He turned back to the sunset.

"I just love this spot…the fields against the majestic dusk always make me feel sort of at peace,"

David nodded silently.

"My husband and I run a little antique store just around the corner…I rarely miss it. He doesn't really understand," she laughed a little. David forced a small laugh.

David spotted a farmer hauling bales of hay off in the distance; he'd done so himself hundreds of times. Every time he had…he'd felt morose. Seeing someone else doing put him at an odd ease.

"I grew a few miles out of town…and have never seen this,"

"Its amazing what you discover when you're not looking. Hell, I've misplaced my shop-key a hundred times. It always seems to turn up when I stop looking,"

David let the words wash over him.

"I guess I never really thought I would appreciate anything about this place,"

David turned to look at her again. She smiled and nodded.

"I didn't either. Not at first. I'm not from here. I met my husband on vacation; he wanted to live in his hometown,"

She sighed. She started fiddling with a set of keys.

"I hated this place at first; I was used to the immaculate and contained of the Lunar colony. But the dirt and the fresh really grew on me,"

She started to turn and head in the opposite direction.

"It was nice talking to you…?"

"David! It was nice talking to you too,"

David turned back to the beautiful reds and yellows. He exhaled slowly; he felt an inner-peace he'd never felt before.

David's mother was hard at work in the kitchen; douse the potato in a basin of cold water; peel the skin away. One after another. She remained focused and steadfast with each segment of her project. Steam bubbled from a pot set upon the stove; warmth and delicious smells wafted from the black and white door of the oven. The radio boomed a voice in the background.

"…Thursday were looking at forty degrees and seventy percent chance of rainfall…"

David's mother nodded in approval. She finished peeling her potatoes…plopping them one at a time in the bubbling pot on the stove. She briefly pulled the oven door open…checking the progress of her creation.

Rap rap rap!

There was a knock at the door.

David's mother glanced in the general direction of the front foyer with a slightly irritated look in her eyes.

"Just a moment," she bellowed.

She quickly peeked under a piece of cloth laying atop a metal cooking tray. She slightly groaned…then doused her hands in colder water in the sink.

David's mother flung the door open. A look of solemn concern crossed her face.

It was Uncle Carl.

"How's the season looking?" Carl asked. He and David's mother sat on the porch…sipping frosty glasses of lemonade.

"Its been quite hot," she said quietly. "But we're expecting rainfall."

Carl nodded. He took a small sip of his lemonade.

"Karen leaving this fall?"

David's mother was quiet for a moment. She took a nice long gulp of her lemonade…then balanced it on her knee with her hand.

"Yes," she replied. "She's very excited."

"Good," he said. "She's a bright young girl."

The two sat quietly for several minutes…neither exchanging glances. Off in the distance…the crunch of corn stalks being harvested could be heard.

"I…I never had a chance to thank you…" David's mother began…almost whispering. Her eyes fell to the floor as she spoke.

Carl held up his hand in a pausing motion; he took another small sip of lemonade.

"Kara," he spoke gently but firmly. "I want to talk to him."

Kara said nothing; her eyes meandered over the dusty porch floor. She twisted her glass between her thumb, index and middle finger in a circular pattern.

"He'll be back soon," she whispered.

A small tear formed in the corner of her eye; she quickly hid it and wiped it away.

She rose to her feet…delicately setting her glass down on the wooden ledge surrounding the porch.

"I have things to do," she said heading for the door. "You can wait for him as long as you like."

Carl rose to his feet…setting his glass down and pointing a finger up at the sky.

"Kara," he breathed gently.

Kara glanced over her shoulder…her eyes on the ground. A look of discomfort filled Carl's face. He sighed…taking his seat again.

"I'll wait here for him,"