Unspoken Feelings
Chapter Twenty-Three: Rest In Peace
Fintan sat at the Stackhouse kitchen table, his fingers cupped in front of his face as he absorbed the news of his niece's death. After all the pieces were fit together, Adele had determined the only place between her house and her son's fatal car accident that an entire car could have been hidden for nearly a decade. A lake not twenty yards into the woods just within the line of the property belonging to the Stackhouses.
Within hours the Sheriff had come out with a pair of kids willing to dive into the lake. A car was pulled out shortly after, several snapped fishing lines clinging to deteriorated wiper blades and fenders.
The gore had been minimal, bones having been picked clean by fish and other inhabitants of the lake. When the trunk had been cracked open, the remains of a young child had been found with clothing preserved, protected from scavengers but not bacteria. Fintan had been able to identify the shorts the girl had been wearing as Claudette Brigant's. The four leaf clover embroidered on the cuff was all he needed to see to know it was his niece.
"I'm so sorry, Fintan," Adele whispered as she set a mug of tea in front of her former lover.
"I knew she was dead," Fintan choked as his hands settled back toward the table, "but I wasn't ready to accept it, I suppose."
"No one is ever ready to accept that a loved one is gone forever," Adele assured him. "Have you called your brother?"
"Yes," Fintan nodded. "He's coming by with his family so they can bring Claudette home together."
"I'm so sorry," Adele gasped.
"It wasn't your fault Addy," Fintan took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly.
"It was my brother," Adele placed her other hand over his.
"We can't help who our family is," Fintan smiled a ghost of his usual expression. "I will never hold you responsible. In fact, if it had been anyone else's brother, we might never have known what happened to Claudette. I'm just grateful to know my son is the one who inadvertently avenged my niece's death. I'm relieved to know he protected his daughter."
Though the death of Bartlett Hale was still speculated who had done the murdering, everyone agreed that it had to have been Corbett or Michelle Stackhouse.
"Where is Sookie?" Fintan asked suddenly.
"With Eric and Jason," Adele replied as she kept her hands folded around Fintan's. "She wants to stop taking her medication."
"Couldn't she lose her voice if she does?" Fintan asked worriedly.
"It's possible, but she's scared that she'll keep remembering more details about the murder if she stays on the meds," Adele explained sadly. "Dr. Broadway thinks if she stays in therapy, it could help Sookie keep her voice, but it could severely hinder her ability to speak in public or under stress."
"Even with the medication, she can barely say a word to me," Fintan pointed out sadly.
"That might be more my fault than anything else," Adele sighed. "I practically raised that girl, and I've been lying to her the entire time. Meeting you was more stressful than it should have been. "
"She will get over it," Fintan assured.
"I don't know that I deserve to be forgiven," Adele admitted.
Fintan sighed, "Addy, what happened between us is more than a sordid affair. I've loved you my entire life. I never stopped loving you. I never married because it was you that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with or no one."
Adele flicked away an unbidden tear, "You always were an idiot."
"I was your idiot," Fintan grinned at her. "I understood why you wouldn't marry me. My father was a tyrant, and you knew if we had any children he'd bully us into sending them to his old academy as soon as they were old enough to go. He'd cut me out of his will over it, he'd run us out of town. Hell, he'd probably sue for custody and win," Fintan let out a long breath. "I really do understand."
"The day I came to you after I'd married," Adele whispered, "do you remember it?"
Fintan snorted, "How could I forget?"
"I'd just been to the doctor. Earl and I had been trying for years to have a baby, and it just wasn't happening. Back then, there was no way to know whose fault it was, but I feltlike it was my fault. I needed my best friend," Adele brought Fintan's hand to her cheek. "And you were there for me. You made me feel like my value had nothing to do with having babies."
Fintan's finger grazed gently against Adele's cheek, "Having you back in my life even for that single day was the most treasured day in my life… For the next two years."
Adele chortled, "I wanted to thank you without telling you what you'd done for me."
"And then you made me wait another two years for my next thank you?" Fintan smiled.
"I had to take the baby weight off. I didn't want you to suspect," Adele confessed.
"I wondered why your breasts looked so amazing," Fintan sighed and earned a swat in the chest from Adele. "Earl treated you right after you had our son, though?"
Adele smiled, "He returned to the man I'd fallen for and chose to marry. I suppose we all handle stress in our own way."
"It wasn't right for him to treat you like that. After all, it washis fault you weren't getting pregnant," Fintan pointed out.
A small sound of a throat clearing drew the pair to look at the archway. Sookie stood with her eyes downcast as she approached the old friends.
"So-ory," Sookie forced out.
"Oh, Sookie," Adele jumped to her feet and embraced her granddaughter, "I'm the one who's sorry! I didn't mean to keep so much from you!"
Sookie wrapped her arms around her Gran's middle and buried her face against the warm shoulder of her grandmother. After the day she'd had, Sookie had no room for anger. She was too exhausted.
"How are you holding up, sweet girl?" Gran asked in a gentle whisper that could have compelled the young woman to sleep. A whimpering sound was the reply the girl offered, and Adele pulled Sookie tighter against her side.
With her eyes hidden it was easier to forget about Fintan. "Sca-ared to sleep, " Sookie confessed.
"I don't blame you, " Adele crooned. "Why don't you go back to Eric's and get out of this house? It might make you feel better, " Gran suggested.
"Mmm, " Sookie hummed distractedly.
"Go on, let me handle everything else from here, " Adele patted Sookie's side and watched sadly as her granddaughter took Eric's hand on the back porch and headed off down the road.
"My granddaughter is getting married?" Fintan noted the engagement ring.
"This June, " Adele divulged.
"Wow, my granddaughter is getting married," Fintan sat back heavily in his seat. "I'd really like it if I could get to know my family, Addy."
"I won't keep them from you," Adele assured him.
Fintan lowered his gaze, "Will you keep yourself from me?"
Adele blinked in surprise, "What are you asking, Fintan?"
The man raised his head to admit, "I wasn't lying when I said I never got married because you were the only wife I ever wanted, Addy. We've changed with the years, but I always hoped something would bring us back together. After all, what are the odds my niece and Sookie's fiancé would meet at school, become friends, and eventually lead to finally putting this horrible mystery to rest?"
When Adele didn't reply right away, Fintan rose from his seat and took her hands in his. "Just think about it, Addy," he encouraged. "I'm going to leave now and meet my brother and his family at the morgue. I'll be back-"
"Come to Easter this Sunday," Adele blurted suddenly.
Fintan's mouth split into a wide grin, "I will."
{†}
"What's all the commotion going on?" Tara called from her spot on the porch swing. Sookie thought Tara and Pam looked mighty cozy together, but she didn't say anything about it.
Instead, the young woman looked at her fiancé and shook her head, "You tell them. I just… can't."
Eric nodded as he let go of Sookie's hand and let her run into the house, and probably to his room.
"Eric, what's going on?" Pam asked worriedly.
The brother sat on the porch step and tried to keep the explanation short, "The abridged version of the story is that a couple dead bodies were found in the Stackhouse's lake."
"The fuck!" Tara shouted in surprise. "Who died?"
Pam could feel the blood draining from her face.
"Adele's brother, and a little girl. I don't want to start gossip, but it looks like she was in the trunk of Hale's car. He tried to run off with Sookie, but I guess her parents showed up before he got her in the car. If I had to put money on it, I'd bet it was her father that killed Hale," Eric told them.
"Holy shit," Tara leaned forward. "That was the day her parents died?"
"Yes," Eric nodded. "Sookie started remembering pieces."
"Did Bartlett do anything to her?" Pam whispered.
"Not that Sookie remembers," Eric shook his head. "There's other stuff that happened today too, but I'd rather keep it among the family." He glanced at Tara, hoping she'd get his point, but when the other girl didn't seem to budge, Eric nodded to himself before standing up and heading for the door. "I'll tell you about it later."
Disengaged from his sister, Eric climbed his way up the stairs to see if Sookie had in fact taken refuge in his bedroom. When he opened his door, the light from the hallway was enough to show the evidence of Sookie's body curled up beneath his blankets.
Shutting the door behind him and plunging the room into darkness, Eric kicked his shoes off and crawled beneath the covers.
"Are you still awake?" Eric whispered as he wrapped his arms around Sookie's waist.
"I couldn't sleep if I wanted to," Sookie murmured back.
"How are you holding up?" Eric pushed her hair behind her ear and continued to comb it with his fingers.
"A breeze could knock me over," Sookie confessed.
"We'll get through this, Sookie," Eric assured her.
"You leave in five days. I'll never be over all of it in five days," Sookie replied despondently.
"What if I didn't go back?" Eric asked and felt Sookie immediately begin turning in his arms.
"No,"Sookie hissed so venomously that Eric felt a shiver run down his spine.
"It was just a thought," Eric assured her.
"I don't want you to ruin a whole semester for this," Sookie told him and turned to cling to his shirt.
"For what?" Eric wondered. "For my future wife who not only is finally remembering the day of the worst trauma of her life but also discovered she witnessed a murder and was told that the genetic lineage she thought she had is a complete lie?"
"Yeah, that," Sookie sighed, wiping her eyes against his t-shirt.
"Sookie," Eric pulled away enough to give her lips a brief, comforting kiss, "Do you ever wonder if the universe is forcing us to unload all of this shit before we get married?"
"That's oddly philosophical for you," Sookie noted. Her fiancé was intelligent, but he was definitely not interested in theology. "Oh! I didn't go to church today!" She moaned in realization.
"I think God would understand," Eric comforted. "Let's not talk about the accident anymore. Let's talk about your Gran."
Sookie let out a long sigh. "I'm mad that she hid all this from me, but I overhead some of the stories before we left. They were really in love before Gran met… the man formerly known as my grandfather."
"What happened?" Eric asked curiously, trying to draw her out of the mindset of abduction and murder.
"They were childhood sweethearts by the sound of it, but Fintan had an overbearing father," Sookie began slowly. "Gran realized that Fintan's dad would force them to raise their children hisway, and Gran didn't want that. Instead, she married Earl Stackhouse. After a few years of not getting pregnant, the man I thought was my grampa was unkind to Gran about not giving him babies. I don't know what all that entailed, though. Gran went to Fintan for comfort after another no-go on the baby front. I suppose one thing lead to another, and they made my daddy."
"Are you mad that she cheated on your grandfather?" Eric asked.
"…No," Sookie admitted.
"Does it make you worry about your faith in marriage?" Eric wondered.
"No," she replied with more resolve than before. "I'm sad that Gran seemed to settle on Grampa, but that's what she did. She settled when she knew who it was that she loved with all her heart. I knowthat I love you with all my heart, Eric. I knowthat you're not settling on me either. I'm not scared that we would cheat on each other."
Eric relaxed, "Do you think you can forgive her?"
"I know I can," Sookie smiled. "I already do."
Eric smiled happily, "I'm glad to hear it."
"As for all the stuff with Bartlett," Sookie began, and Eric groaned internally at being back on the subject, "I'm still scared to remember any more of it."
"I'm sure that you are," Eric understood. "Still, going off your medication is very premature, Sookie. You might need to taper off, not stop taking it all together. You need to consult Dr. Broadway about that."
"You're not scared I'll lose my voice again?" Sookie asked in surprise.
"No," Eric told her. "I'm confident that you'll still be able to speak even after you go off your medication. Even if by some off chance you did lose your ability to vocalize, we've never had a problem speakingto each other."
An unbidden sob escaped Sookie's lips as she suddenly clung to Eric in relief.
"Can I ask why you don't want to know the truth about what all happened?" Eric asked quietly.
"It's not about knowing,"Sookie tried to explain. "It's about feeling. It's so vivid and real, and I have to experience it as a helpless child, Eric. I can't fight back or run. I have to watch and feel and be scared out of my mind with no comfort that it will end."
"Going off your medication isn't going to guarantee that you'll stop remembering," Eric tried to tell her as delicately as he could. "It might make it harder to get through the dreams." Sookie's eyes sprang with fresh tears. "This might be a bell we can't un-ring."
"It isn't fair," Sookie hiccuped.
"I know," Eric rumbled in as soothing a voice as he could muster.
"Why does everything have to keep going so wrong when I'm the happiest I've ever been?" Sookie demanded.
"Maybe God knows you're strong enough now," Eric considered. "He knows you need to face all of these things eventually, and He waited until you were ready to handle it."
"You're pushing God into the conversation a lot. It's not like you," Sookie frowned.
"My beliefs have nothing to do with it," Eric told her. "I know it's what you need to hear. He brings you comfort, and if I need to remind you of that, then I will."
"Thank you," Sookie snuggled closer to her future husband.
{†}
"Sookie andEric," Dr. Amelia Broadway said in surprise when her patient arrived for the normally scheduled appointment. "Always good to see you two together."
"We only have a few more days before I go back to school," Eric appeared tired and melancholy. "I don't want to miss a moment with her."
Amelia smiled, "How are you two doing after everything that happened on Sunday?"
"Gran handled all the stuff with the police and the Brigants," Sookie began slowly. "The Brigants were surprisingly nice to us even though it was one of our family members that…" she trailed off with a sudden distraction.
"Claudine thanked us for finding her sister," Eric offered. "That was awkward and depressing."
Amelia nodded, "I'm glad that there doesn't appear to be a rift torn over this sad occasion."
"Am I going to keep remembering more and more about that day?" Sookie asked sadly.
"It's possible, but not necessarily," Amelia smiled apologetically. "It's possible that you will remember more, but you might never recover all the memories from that day. You were, after all, very young at the time and suffered a major head injury after a traumatic event. The fact you've remembered as much as you have is impressive after so long."
"Will quitting my medication keep me from remembering anything else?" Sookie demanded desperately.
"I doubt it, Sookie," Amelia frowned. "It wasn't just the medication that helped open this memory to you. It was meeting Claudine and hearing a traumatic story that made a connection in your mind about the attack and eventual murder of your uncle."
"What are the odds that her memories are accurate?" Eric asked suddenly.
Amelia raised her eyebrows in surprise, "Well, like many memories, the older they are, the more details are lost and the more embellished the memorable things become. Recovered memories like these can be tricky because they can be so heavily influenced by suggestion, or at least that's something I believe very strongly. Some cases shone a hideous light on therapists and mental health professionals when groups of patients were influenced into believing they'd recovered memories that had actually been suggested to them by their "therapist,"" Amelia threw air quotes around the word 'therapist' and openly sneered. "It gave us a bad name for a while."
"Then the things I'm remembering could be wrong?" Sookie asked in dismay.
Thinking a moment, Amelia confessed, "Obviously everything isn't inaccurate. There are abundant amounts of evidence backing up your memories, but the way you perceive it could be inaccurate. The sequence of events could be out of order, or other memories could have wiggled their way in and didn't actually happen at that time."
Sookie's face fell, "I'll have to live with these memories and never know what's real and what isn't?"
Amelia tried to give her patient an encouraging smile. "I think the most important thing you need to take away from all of this is that you met a monster, and there was a hero nearby to protect you from it."
The Forgotten Chapter
WARNING: THIS CHAPTER ADDITION IS UNSETTLING AND ONLY HERE FOR THOSE WHO WANT TO KNOW THE WHOLE STORY OF WHAT HAPPENED TO CLAUDETTE AND SOOKIE NINE YEARS AGO. IT IS NOT NECESSARY TO READ TO UNDERSTAND FUTURE CHAPTERS.
Bartlett Hale had always reckoned himself a lucky man.
For years he had managed to live a modest lifestyle on the outer rim of Monroe, Louisiana. He'd rustled himself up a nice, big plot of land backed up to a beautiful fishing hole, and it was all paid for by his passion.
That passion existed in the bowels of his Fun House, a hidden bunker with an access door camouflaged as a wood stack. He'd had plenty of good times in that bunker. There was an art to breaking girls in, and Bartlett Hale had spent years mastering his craft until he could sell it to well-vetted parties.
Unfortunately, in the late summer of 1988, he'd run into a heap of trouble that would force him to abandon his little paradise and his Fun House.
A girl of about ten years old had been coming up the dirt road from the lake he lived on, and even from a distance, Bartlett knew he could get a pretty penny out of her.
By faking an injury, Bartlett had lured the girl over to his yard and told her to run into his house to call an ambulance. When the girl was near the door, Bartlett sprung up and shoved her to the ground. It was no feat of strength to tie her up and drag her into his Fun House after that.
Next, he went and grabbed the girl's bike, rolling it out of view of the street. He'd throw it in the lake after it was dark.
As Bartlett came back to the front of his house and headed toward the woodpile, he saw two more children riding up the street where his new product had come from. Bartlett scowled and swore under his breath before heading into his house. The girl coming up the road looked identical to the one he'd snatched, and the most he could hope was that no one would snoop too hard.
If he pumped the girl with Xanax for the next few days, it would assure that she remained quiet if someone came by his place looking for her. Bartlett was confident no one would suspect the woodpile as long as no noises were coming from it.
Once the children had disappeared around the bend, Bartlett grabbed his cameras and headed to the woodpile. The first thing he would need was a buyer before he could determine the quote for his training.
When he arrived in the Fun House, the little girl was screaming her head off, already awake.
"Cry, cry, cry, baby," Bartlett laughed to himself as he began taking the girl's photo. "My buyers love those tears." He switched cameras. "For my own collection, y'see." He took another set of photos and then left for his darkroom to develop the film. When he returned again, it was with a couple pills and a roll of duct tape.
Bartlett forced the pills into the girl's mouth, and the slapped a piece of tape over her lips so she couldn't spit them out. She'd either swallow them, or they'd dissolve and do their job.
A few hours later, Bartlett was patting himself on the back for having such foresight as to drug and gag the girl because someone hadcome to his place looking for her. The first night it was a father saying his daughter had gone missing, and asking if he'd seen her.
Bartlett had replied he'd seen a few kids on their bikes heading up the road earlier that afternoon, but nothing after that.
The next morning, the police arrived looking for the girl, but Bartlett had already rowed out to throw the girls' bike in the lake the previous night and invited the police to have a look around his property.
The only problem Bartlett hadn't accounted for was the old widow that lived on the farm a quarter mile up the road. She had been on her porch snapping fresh peas all afternoon and had seen the brother and sister on their bikes, but not the second little girl who had left the lake first. When the police asked if she might have just not noticed the first girl, the widow had insisted that the stretch of road in front of her house was too long not to see a child on a bike pedaling past.
Bartlett became nervous when the cops showed up again. By the end of the day, the man was too worried to remain any longer, and couldn't risk putting out his advertisement for sales. Instead, Bartlett did the only thing he could before they put surveillance on him. He went down to his Fun House and with little effort, snapped the girl's neck as she remained passed out. Next, the man took a few parting photos and threw the body into the trunk of his car. He left the corpse overnight before heading to his sister's the following morning.
With the plan to dump the body on Adele's property, Bartlett decided he'd swing by Linda's place on his way out of Louisiana and run off with Hadley. He'd spent so much time grooming Hadley that it seemed a shame to waste the efforts. He just needed to get into Adele's address book to see where Linda lived now that she was divorced.
Deciding that his "Brochure" would be enough to earn him some extra cash until he could set up a new shop, Bartlett hid the photo album of his work, along with the negatives, beneath the passenger's seat of the car as he drove toward Bon Temps.
Yet another snag appeared in his plans when Bartlett discovered that his sister was babysitting little Sookie. It took very little coaxing to encourage Adele to let him watch the girl so that errands could be run. However, a game of hide-and-seek had broken out while the adults negotiated, and Bartlett wasted precious minutes trying to track down the hiding child.
When a terrified shriek drew Bartlett outside, he found that Sookie had hidden in his car and found his "Brochure." The little girl dropped the book on the floor of the car, jumped from the vehicle and tried to run back into the farmhouse to safety.
At that moment Bartlett felt his years of patience and planning slipping from him. He knew he had no choice but to wrangle in Sookie and get rid of her. There was no telling how much time he had before her parents arrived to pick her up, or Adele returned from shopping.
Bartlett chased Sookie into the house, startled at how quickly she seemed to disappear, but relieved that a little girl couldn't control her fear and was sobbing somewhere nearby. He found her hiding beneath Adele's bed and dragged her out by her ankle. The little one kicked and scratched until she was loose again and bolted for the stairs. This time Bartlett caught her by her hair, yanking Sookie down the steps and dragging her kicking and screaming from the house.
Sookie cried for her daddy, she scratched at Bartlett's hands and arms, and just when the old man was about to silence her with a pair of hands around her neck, the world went black.
Corbett Stackhouse panted wildly as he struck his uncle over the head with the hunk of metal he'd groped for in the bed of his truck. Bartlett had been so focused on Sookie that he hadn't seen the new vehicle in the driveway, he hadn't noticed his nephew panicked at his daughter's screams, coming up the behind him with the weapon.
Despite the single blow dropping Bartlett to the ground, something in Corbett Stackhouse was unappeased with the one strike. Instead, he brought the tire iron over his head again and again until his wife's screams of, "Corbett, stop!" finally steadied his arm.
Looking at his stunned daughter, Corbett dropped his weapon and pulled Sookie to him. She was staring at him wide-eyed.
"Sookie, honey," Corbett whispered, his voice stifled with emotion. "Close your eyes, baby girl, and daddy'll get rid of this monster that came at ya."
Sookie shut her eyes immediately and felt her daddy lift her from the ground. The next thing she knew, Sookie could smell her mother's perfume, she could feel the familiar softness of her mother's lap and breasts. She was safe.
"Corbett, what are you going to do?" Michelle asked in an anxious, quiet whisper.
"I'm gonna dump the body and car into that pond back there," Corbett muttered.
"You were protecting your daughter," Michelle told him.
"One hit dropped him, Shelly," Corbett hissed back. "I overdid it. I'll get put away for that!" He pointed back to the body worriedly.
"Corbett, we need to call the police."
"No, Shelly," Corbett snapped and closed the truck door, silencing his wife's protests.
"It's okay, Baby. Daddy's gonna take care of everything," Michelle told her daughter. "You just never tell anybody about today, Baby. It was just a bad dream. It wasn't even real!" Sookie blinked her eyes open to stare at her mother's wide, blue eyes. "Never talk about this bad dream to anybody, Sookie."
Corbett bounced across the yard in his uncle's car until he arrived at the pond just inside the tree line of his mother's property. With little effort, he drove the car into the lake and waited to make sure it would sink. Corbett never knew of the dead little girl in the trunk, nor the book of horrors sitting on the floor of the passenger seat. All Corbett knew was that he had killed his uncle and sunk him in the pond for trying to hurt his little girl.
When Corbett arrived back at the truck, he found his wife crooning at their daughter in a soothing tone that belied her wide, terrified eyes.
"It's okay, honey, daddy got rid of the monster," Corbett told her.
"Yes, the monster from your bad dream is all gone. Daddy scared it away for good," Michelle tried to convince her daughter it had all been a nightmare, and that it would eventually fade from her memory like most dreams did.
Corbett slid back behind the wheel, and Michelle held her daughter until the farmhouse was well behind them.
As the shaken family turned around the bend, Michelle began to move so she could fasten her daughter safely in the back of the cab. Undoing her seatbelt, Michelle nudged Sookie into the rear seat and did up the girl's safety harness.
"We'll be home before you get her belted in, Shelly," Corbett grumbled.
"It's not safe for children to ride in the front," Michelle argued distractedly. "I saw it on the news."
Corbett knew that his wife was still in shock and disbelief and that going through the motions was all she could think to do. That was why he didn't protest her actions. If he had, then all three of them might have died in the crash that would soon happen.
Instead, when the tire blew out, and Michelle's body lurched with the sudden shift, Sookie was safely belted in her seat. The little girl might have left the crash without a scratch if her mother's loose body hadn't bounced within the confines of the truck's cab.
An elbow flung back as Michelle tried to brace herself and caught the side of her husband's head, cracking his temple harshly against the window. The instance Corbett's head hit the glass, he lost all chance of bringing the truck back under control. His disorientation caused the vehicle to wobble dangerously until it turned on its side and Michelle was bucked back toward Sookie, and his daughter's screams were silenced. Corbett lurched backward and was immediately propelled forward again so that his face struck the steering wheel.
The truck skidded along its side for a moment. Sookie was silent. Michelle was limp against the passenger door, and Corbett prayed they might be okay. He really believed that they might all be okay as he turned off the ignition. Even as he heard the pattering sound of water beating against a hard surface, and looked down to see that the water was the blood dripping from his face and collecting on the passenger window, he thought he might live. When the world began to grow narrower and darker, that hope waned.
"Shh, Sookie," Corbett tried to croon, his voice choked with devastation. It had to have been the shock that made his lips utter his daughter's lullaby. The fear that she was dead in the backseat might have spurred the melody from his mouth. Whatever the reason, Corbett garbled the lyrics. "Daddy's here. Shh, Sookie, don't you fear. Shh, Sookie, not a peep. Shh, Sookie, time to sleep. Shh…" was the final sound from Corbett's lips as his daughter remained unconscious, strapped in the back of the truck.
TBC
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