someone…..
“Cameron! Cole!” he shouted, “Cameron! Cole!”
He heard footsteps upstairs hurry across the floor. Cameron came down the stairs just as Cole came running up the ground floor hall. Both of them carried gym bags. Cole had his slung over his back.
“Old lady’s back?” Cole asked.
“No,” Vance said. He pointed out the back window, “look out there!”
Cameron and Cole went up to the window and peered out into the garden. There was a moment of disbelief before either of them spoke.
“What the hell?” Cole asked nobody in particular.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Vance asked.
“And his two dogs,” Cole said.
“I thought you took care of him?” Cameron asked.
“I did!” Cole said with anger in his voice.
“You think he rang up the police?” Vance asked.
Cole ignored him. He handed his bag of stolen goods to Cameron.
“Go put all this stuff in the car,” he said. He reached under his shirt and took out his gun tucked into his belt. Vance stepped back.
“I’ll take care of him for good this time,” Cole said.
He left them and headed for the back door.
“What if he rang up the police?” Vance asked.
Cameron handed Vance one of the bags. “There’s no line out there,” he said, “I checked it myself.”
They quickly made their way to the side door where they first broke into the house. Cameron kicked the door, and it flew open, banging into the side of the house, breaking more glass. He walked over to the car.
“Open it up!” he said to Vance.
Vance reached into his pocket and found the keys. “We should just go and leave the old man alone!” he said fumbling with them.
“Hurry up!” Cameron shouted.
Vance got the boot of the car open. Cameron set both bags in and slammed it shut.
“Get the car started,” he said to Vance.
But Vance had walked over to the corner of the house. He peered around into the garden. He saw Cole strutting across the lawn toward the old caretaker. He bit his lip. Cole said something, then pointed his gun and fired. Vance jumped as the shot rang out across the yard.
“Get the car started!” Cameron shouted.
But Vance couldn’t leave the spot. He watched Cole shoot again and again. Bang! Bang! Bang! The shots rang out across the yard. But the old caretaker didn’t fall. He just stood there. As the echo of the last shot faded, he heard Cole cursing. He threw his gun. Then the caretaker released his dogs. They charged at Cole, leapt up on him, brought him down to the ground. Vance turned away.
“What the hell are you doing?” Cameron asked coming up behind him.
“They got him!” Vance said, “The dogs got him, Cameron.”
“What are you talking about? Get in the car,” Cameron ordered.
But Vance started to back away, shaking his head.
“Get in the car!” Cameron shouted.
He tried to grab hold of him, but Vance was quicker. He dropped the keys, turned and ran.
“Where are you going?” Cameron shouted after him. He watched his old mate run away across the yard.
“Idiot!” he said, knowing full well that Cole would beat Vance to a pulp for running off. “He’s going to put you in the hospital!”
He walked over and picked the keys up off the ground. He peeped around the corner of the house, expecting to see Cole running up. Instead he saw the caretaker still standing in the middle of the yard. Where the hell was Cole? He noticed the caretaker’s dogs a few feet from the old man. They were on to something, viciously biting and snarling. Cameron squinted in the dark. He saw arms flailing, legs kicking.
“Jesus,” he said.
He watched unable to move until the struggle stopped. Cole had stopped moving. The dogs trotted back over to the side of the caretaker. The old caretaker turned and faced in Cameron’s direction.
“He can’t see me,” Cameron said, “How can he see me?”
The caretaker pointed and the dogs started running toward Cameron.
He ran for the car. Quickly he climbed in, shut the door behind him, and shoved the key into the ignition. The engine roared into life on the first try. He shifted into gear and hit the pedal to the floor. Tires screeching, the car lurched forward. He shifted into second gear as the car raced out of the shadows around the corner of the house. In a few seconds it reached the long driveway. He shifted into third. Holding the pedal to the floor, the car accelerated madly.
“It’s too late for Cole,” he said, “Too late. There was nothing I could do.”
He looked back over his shoulder. He saw the dogs racing across the lawn, chasing after the car. For a moment he thought they might catch him, but he shifted into fourth and the car started pulling away. Looking in his rearview mirror he now saw them falling behind.
“I’ll get away,” he told himself, “I’ll get away!”
As he approached the road, he let up off the gas pedal. He needed to slow down to manage the turn onto the main road. But then he saw was someone standing right in the middle of drive just before the gates. At first he thought it might be Vance. He started to roll down his window. But he stopped when his headlights shined on the figure.
“Aw Christ!” Cameron muttered.
It wasn’t Vance. It was the caretaker.
He pushed the gas pedal to floor and accelerated, heading straight for the old man. Honking the car horn, he shouted, “Out of the way! Out of the way!:.
In the moment before the car struck, Cameron turned his head and shut his eyes, bracing for the impact. But there was none.
“Did he jump out of the way?”
He took his foot off the gas and turned to look back over his shoulder. The caretaker and his dogs were in the back seat.
Down in the woods Vance heard a crash, the sound of speeding metal impacting into something solid. He knew the sound, even as it was filtered down through the trees to him. He knew it was the car. H had witnessed a fair share of car crashes during his years as a taxi driver. Vance stopped to look back up the hill. But he hesitated only for a moment before starting down toward the river again.
He stumbled through thick underbrush, smacking his shin against a log. He twisted his ankle, stumbled. The next thing he knew he found himself sprawled on the ground. He got back up, started running again, half limping on his twisted ankel. A branch smacked into his face. He tried to head straight down the hill, but like a pinball he kept banging into trees that sent him reeling back.
“If I can only make it to the river,” he told himself, “Please let me make it to the river.”
A couple times Vance thought he heard something in the woods behind him. He looked back, but he couldn’t see anything in the darkness. He kept running, tripping over tree roots, cutting his face and arms on branches he couldn’t see. Finally the ground leveled out. He reached the bottom of the hill. He could hear the rushing water now, just ahead of him. His leg muscles hurt. He pushed himself on. The next time he stumbled, he fell into mud.
Vance felt it thick and pasty on his hands. Its acrid smell was in his nostrils. He picked himself up, stumbled forward. A few steps later, he splashed into water, He had reached the river. He waded out from the bank, trying to keep his balance on the slippery stones beneath his feet. Slowly the river wrapped its chilly waters around him. He shivered. His body began to grow numb. He kept wading deeper into the river until it swallowed him up and carried him off.
An hour later on the verge of exhaustion, Vance climbed out of the river. The water had been chilly, but when the cold morning air hit him, he felt what little energy he had draining away. He needed to find someplace warm. As quick as his legs would allow, he scrambled up the embankment. At the top he found a picnic shelter and a sign. The sign read “Keep dogs out of the river” in big letters and “By order of the City Park Commission” in smaller lette
rs below.
He laughed. Tears came to eyes. He had made it. The river brought him all the way back to the city. He knew this area, the river park near Hastings. He used to work in this area. He knew a coffee shop not far away. He started walking. He reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet. He knew it would be soaked, but he wanted to see how much money he brought with him. But instead of his wallet his hand found something smooth.
He pulled it out. The stone egg! Just at that moment the sun breached the treetops. The first rays of warm sunshine gleamed down on him. In the morning light he could now get a better look at the stone egg. It was completely black, smoothed and polished so he could see his reflection in it. It felt cold in his bare hand, like holding a snowball. Vance looked up. He suddenly stopped in his tracks. Not fifty yards in front of him stood the caretaker and his dogs.
As I mentioned previously I have more difficulty coming up with stories of realistic fiction than fantastic fiction. For my third short story of realistic fiction, I again turned to the idea of retelling a story I heard from someone. In this case my aunt told me a story about an incident in her childhood, which I found to be very interesting. I decided to make it into a short story.
The Silent and the Still
Copyright 2011 by S. Thomas Kaza
Annie walked up behind the boy squatting on the sidewalk. He was so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn’t even notice her. She could see he held a stick in his hand, but she couldn’t see what he was doing with it. She leaned over to get a better look.
“What are you doing?”
The boy looked up. “Just playing with