Sometimes I think, we who are left here on Earth, are the real tragedy. That being alive, we feel sadness for those who have passed, when in reality, it is they who pity us. I have imagined the ones I love who have reached the other side, watching us with the same sadness we feel.
The human body, as precious as it is to us, has been referenced many times throughout history, by great philosophers, as a cage. A cage riddled with sickness, anger, and pain. And those of us still stuck in one consider ourselves lucky.
I have imagined that it's with great pity our ancestors watch us fight this losing battle. We paddle against the steady current of time, as it pushes us in one direction and we fight wildly in resistance.
Thrashed against the rocks and slammed against the raging waves. By the end of our journey, we are left beaten and bruised.
And in the very last bend of the river, we round to find a brilliant light. One so bright and strong, that it burns through this iron cage until it slips off effortlessly. And in that moment, we will truly be free. We will understand that this,what we are experiencing now, is only the beginning. And death should never be feared.
******
Through the haze of the late night fog, two beams of light shown across the darkness. Two solitary glowing orbs that stared J.W. down like a pair of menacing eyes. The dust of his driveway engulfed them, and dirt fluttered through the air as the truck came to a stop. J.W.'s hand trembled slightly as it rested on his holstered gun.
The screen door to his house creeked open as he stepped out onto the porch. He held one arm up in front of his eyes and held his head slightly sideways. He couldn't see a thing. The light blinded him and kept him frozen in place. He yelled across the yard.
"Turn them damn lights off!"
There was no response from the truck and J.W. grew more nervous by the second. He popped the button on his holster that kept the gun in place. He drew his weapon. The tip of his gun gleamed as the headlights bounced off of it. He tried to level it just above the right headlight, where the driver would be sitting. He waited.
The unlatching of the truck's door broke the heavy silence that lay thick in the air. The point of the gun moved slightly to the right where someone exiting the vehicle might be. J.W. heald steady. Already in a vulnerable position, he accepted his situation and squinted his eyes.
A break appeared in the steady flow of light, as the form of a man walked in front of it. J.W. studied it closely and noticed the arms were down by its side and didn't appear to be holding a weapon. The man stopped a few feet in front of the truck. J.W.'s gun remained steady.
"What'ya want? Who's out there?"
The stranger answered back.
"What'd you do with her, you son of a bitch?"
"With who?"
The man took several steps forward and met J.W. at the base of his porch steps. When Travis' face came into view, J.W. lowered his weapon before placing it back on his hip. Travis stared him down, his eyes boiling over with anger.
"My God man, you coulda got shot comin' up here like that. What the hell are you doing at my house?"
"What the fuck did you do with her J.W.? I know she was here."
J.W.'s voice trembled and broke.
"R...Rebecca? Where is she? What happened?"
"They found her car just on the other side of Pendleton Bridge. Still runnin' on the side of the road, the door left wide open. Same as yall's missin' girl. I know she came to see you."
J.W.put his hand on his forehead, rubbing it in a panic. His mind raced. Travis moved in closer.
"What did you do, you sick son of a bitch?!"
In a flash of anger, J.W. lunged forward, tackling Travis to the ground. The two men hit the grass in a forceful thud and immediately began to roll. The two men traded blows. J.W. clawed at Travis until he was able to gain a slight upper hand and climb on top of him.
Travis lay flat on his back as punch after punch rained down on his head. A final flash knocked him out and his arms went limp and fell at his sides. J.W. sat breathing heavily for a moment before slowly groaning up to his feet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and, in the lights of the truck, he saw the red blood glisten. His whole body throbbed.
Dirt scattered as he brushed his pants off, walking toward Travis' truck. He grabbed hold of the driver's side door, that was left open, to steady himself. Leaning inside, he reached around the steering column and pulled the keys from the ignition. The yard fell dark, and the moon shone down on Travis' motionless body.
J.W. took one step away from the truck and reared back his arm as far as he could. As he slung it forward, Travis' truck keys spun through the air and landed amongst a group of tall weeds. J.W. grabbed his ribs as a sharp pain bolted through them. He walked toward his own truck mumbling.
"Stupid bastard."
******
"New developments this evening, as KTBS learns a second body has been found in Sabine Parish. This news coming just 24 hours after the discovery of once missing , Elizabeth Freemaux's body in a church cemetary.
A source close to the investigation reports that a second set of remains have been uncovered at the same location. This has prompted the local sheriff's department to reactivate several missing persons cases, from the last 3 years.
So far, authorities have been unwilling to comment on the findings, but locals fear this may be the work of a serial murderer.
More on this story as it develops."
******
Rebecca's eyes cracked open slightly, as she winced against the pain radiating through her head. She rolled her jaw around on its hinges and moaned at the shock of what felt like bone crunching against bone.
As she tried to move, the reality of her situation began to materialize in her mind. Thick bands of tape were covering her mouth. She could taste the adhesive. Her hands were also taped together at the wrists and bent behind her back. Her legs were bent at the knees and the ankles, bound tightly in the same way. On top of that, was a large portion of tape that connected the two parts together like a hogtied calf. Trying to move was useless.
She did her best to take in her surroundings. All around her were the metal sides of Campbell's truck bed. Her body rattled and bumped against the bed as the vehicle hit holes and took turns in the road.
Helplessly on her side, she lay her head back staring up at the night sky. She could taste the iron of her blood as it sat in her mouth. Tears rolled down the soft, bruised skin of her cheeks. The sky was dark, but the moon illuminated groups of clouds that scattered the great expanse.
A sharp curve threw her against one side and she cringed against the pain. As the truck straightened its path, she returned to her position. Her eyes widened as what was once a dark sky, began to become illuminated with that of electrical lights. And soaking up that light were thick plumes of white steam and smoke crossing the sky overhead. Slowly, it crawled. A familiar hiss could be heard over the road noise. She knew they were passing the plywood mill on the edge of town.
A flutter of hope raced through her heart. If someone could just see her, maybe they would help her. If only for a second, she might be able to raise up above the wall of the truck bed.
She strained against the pain in her body and the tape restricting her. Again, the truck took a sharp turn, around the grocery store as you came into town, and slammed her against the wall. She lay in shock, staring up, as a traffic light passed overhead. In her desperation, she knew exactly where the truck was and started to panic.
Rebecca screamed against the tape covering her mouth as she shook her head back and forth violently. But the only thing heard as the truck passed the Kwik Trip gas station, where Campbell got his morning coffee, was road noise.
Moments later, she felt the truck take a right onto a highway that led out of town and knew that all hope was lost. She screamed again in anger and cried uncontrollably. The truck continued down the road.
******
Closer than he could imagine, J.W. pulled into the driveway of a familiar bar. When he cut the engine off, he could hear the country music that had already begun flowing from inside. In the middle of the darkness, sat this neon lit, one room bar crawling with life. And the people that you rarely see during daylight hours, had emerged to rule the night.
J.W. shut the door of his truck with his palm, and then placed it against his ribs as he grimaced. He walked with a slight limp and kept his head down as to not be noticed by more people than was necessary. Each step was labored with the reminder of the fight he had been in.
As he entered the bar, he made his way to the counter and found a seat on the end, near the corner. He pulled the ball cap on his head down, and out of the corner of his eye he watched and waited.
Moving around the bar, taking orders and shuffling beers, Morgan, the shy girl J.W. had met once before with Campbell, was unknowingly in eyesight. And in his hand he clenched a wadded up napkin.
