Strange Awakening by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 14
I was in New York City. I had no car with me. I was walking to Port Authority to get a bus ride home. I didn’t know exactly where it was, so I followed the crowd thinking that they were most likely headed that way. Then I somehow lost the crowd and didn’t know which way to go. I passed through an Oriental district and got my bearings. I proceeded in the right direction, but surprising me, I saw that I would have to pass through two blocks of ominous looking characters to get to Port Authority. After I was somehow able to deflect some crazy guy holding a knife, I was relieved to enter the bus terminal. I looked up at the clock which said 7 o’clock, probably PM, as it was getting dark. As I walked through the terminal trying to locate where I could buy a ticket, I noticed that the clock was not moving. When I found the right ticket area it was closed.
Through there were no directions there informing me, I somehow knew to go to the lower level to find a subsidiary ticket booth.
The lower level was poorly lit and contained a number of people aimlessly milling about and some looked like they lived there on the floor. When I found the right place I was told that the last bus had just left a minute ago and that there wouldn’t be another until 5 o’clock tomorrow afternoon. I didn’t want to spend the night there, so I found another window selling tickets
to somewhere reasonably near Clinton, my destination. I’d rather spend the night sleeping somewhere in Flemington than here. I could walk home from there in an hour or two, if I couldn’t get a ride. I was glad to see a bus, full of people, displaying the Flemington sign, right behind the ticket window.
As it looked as if it was getting ready to depart, I tried to rush the clerk selling tickets, who informed me that all tickets had already been sold and that the bus was full. “When’s the next one?” I asked. He said, “Tomorrow.” I said, “I can stand.
I don’t need a seat.” He said, “That is not allowed on rides exceeding one hour.” The bus started to move. I didn’t know what to do or say but wanted to argue with someone, when I felt Butch’s hand on my chest, shaking me. He said; “Who are you fighting with. Come on, it’s time to get up and start moving.”
“Can I get some coffee first?”
“Sure, but don’t dawdle. I want to be sure we get to Mason’s before sunrise.
I looked at the window and he could sense that I felt it was still pretty dark and there was no rush necessary. So, he said; “If you didn’t know it, we’re walking.”
We made coffee and drank it quickly. Butch was talking at me, giving me instructions, but I really wasn’t paying much attention as I couldn’t get the dream out of my mind. It was pretty obvious to me that it had to do with not being able to
get home. People basically told me I’d have to wait until tomorrow, but I wondered if the stopped clock meant tomorrow would never come. That was about as far as I could take it and then I heard Butch telling me to pay attention.
I said; “All right, all right. It takes a while for the coffee to wake me up. I’m awake now. Tell me what I need to know.”
“I’m bringing a gun just in case. You’re not going to have one as you’ll probably shoot yourself with it.”
I widened my eyes and said; “Fine.”
“We’re looking for pictures, right? Any pictures won't be blowing around in the woods, you know.”
“I can’t tell you how. This was your bright idea anyway.”
“I don’t know whose idea this whole stupidity was. Looking for pictures is better than a gun battle.”
“Trust me. I’ll know how when I see it.”
“Like?”
“I don’t know. Maybe fucking breaking and entry. I’m not sure yet.”
“Let’s get going. Just follow me. I can get through these woods with no light.”
I followed him out the door and saw that it was overcast.
That didn’t bother Butch as he led me over the dear trails, at a good pace. I followed pretty well, occasionally tripping over
some things in the path while watching for bats. We got behind Mason’s yellow house in a half hour without too much trouble.
We sat about 200 feet from the house behind some bushes. There were no cars in the driveway for a change, but lights were on in the house.
“I said; do you think anyone is there?”
“I have no idea. Somebody could have been left there overnight.”
We sat there for half an hour, listening for sounds of possible cars coming and watching the lit windows for movement inside. We saw and heard nothing human, but I was occasionally distracted by the fifty bats flying low in the area near the house. When one came within fifty feet of us I’d flinch at their wing span and the quick flapping sound. The sun just started peeking out from the hills behind us, when I said;
“Let’s go look in the windows.” I wanted to show Butch that the bats didn’t deter me.
He said; “There are still some bats out there.”
“Fuck ’em. They’re after insects, not us.”
Butch said; “I don’t know if that’s the greatest idea in the world.”
“Do you have a better one?”
“Yeah, let’s go home, get drunk and play some video games.”
“Come on. We didn’t make this trip just to turn back. I’m going to try to get a look in the windows whether you come with me or not.”
I got up and started to walk through the little bit of forest remaining, when Butch decided to follow me saying; “You must have a knack for getting into trouble.”
I didn’t answer and crossed the shallow part of the stream and continued on to the house with Butch beside me. He checked his gun, I guess anticipating the possibility of having to fire a quick shot.
I said; “Are you any good with that thing?”
He answered me sarcastically, saying; “No. I’ve just been carrying one of these things around all my life, looking for a fucking flag to hang on it.”
When we looked in one open screened window we both simultaneously said; “Shit.” There were photos of kids doing things we didn’t think anyone would want to see, pinned to the walls and lying on some furniture in the room. We heard a car’s engine in the still morning and instinctively ran back to our bushy hiding place.
A car entered the driveway. It turned out to be the cameraman alone. Before going into the house he stared in our direction a few seconds, probably because we were in the same
spot he had seen me yesterday. When he disappeared into the house, Butch said; “Let’s get out of here.”
I said; “Wait a minute. That’s good evidence in there. We have to get it out.”
“The guy is in there now, asshole.”
“I don’t mean right this minute.”
“I’m not coming back to do a breaking and entry. Besides, I just thought of something else. If we bring the pictures to the cops they might say they were ours and charge us with something.”
“I was thinking the same thing. But what if we could get photos of the photos? It would tie the pictures to the house.”
“Can you get a picture through a window?”
“I don’t think so, but I might be able to get some through the screen. Let’s just stop at my house for a second and I’ll pick up my camera.”
“I’ve got one at my house.”
“I want to stop there anyway, just to take a look.”
After we circled around the woods a bit, we got behind my house and crossed the open area, which is not visible from the yellow house.
After I entered by key it was obvious to me that someone had been there. Some things had been moved and some papers formerly in drawers were lying on tables.
I said; “They must have come here to get me yesterday.”
“There are no signs of forced entry.”
“I know things have been moved.”
“That doesn’t make for a strong police report. And are you sure that you’re right?”
I said; “Yes, god damn it. But that’s irrelevant. I’m not even thinking of going to the cops for this. It would just be useless and it could make some kind of complication.”
I found the camera quickly and led Butch back out of the house. We got back on the deer paths and headed back to Butch’s.
I said; “We can come back even earlier tomorrow and get some shots.”
“I hope you mean photos.”
I laughed; “Yeah, photos.”
We made the trip quietly, efficiently and most importantly, un-followed. When we got back to Butch’s house his parents were having breakfast in the kitchen.
Loretta: “You two back already?”
Butch: “Yeah, you know I like to hunt in the early mornings.”
Sam: “Sure. I also see that you’re bringing back the usual thing,” referring to the lack of dead animals.
I gathered that this was a running joke between father and son and said; “Maybe I’m going to have to get a new teacher.”
Butch got indignant; “You know, Dad, all I can do is get up in a perch somewhere near the stream. If the deer don’t come by, what am I supposed to do?”
Everyone except Butch laughed.
Loretta: “Nobody here is a venison aficionado anyway. And I’m not interested in cutting anything up.” She paused a few seconds, while the others were silent. “And Sam, I can’t remember the last time you brought anything back, either.”
Everyone, including Butch and Sam, laughed.
Loretta: “Now, everyone, shut up, eat your eggs and drink your coffee.”
Butch and I sat at the table and did as we were told and were glad that we did. Loretta put on the radio and we all intently listened to three experts speak vaguely and similarly on the current banking crisis and the “rolling” real estate depression. I might have felt better about being so informed, if at least one expert had a concrete solution.
Ed: “Sam, what do you make of all that?”
Sam: “I was a kid during the 1930’s Depression and I’ve lived through a number of crises. The one thing I’m sure of is that if you know how to do something very well, you’ll be all right.” He paused a few silent seconds and added; “Like, Butch
here won’t make a living by hunting, no matter how good or bad the economy is.” He smiled broadly at his own joke, while everyone else looked at their plates or the clock on the wall.
We shortly finished eating and conversation again began.
Butch: “We’ve got to get going. I’ve got a lot to teach Ed, if he’s going to have a shot at surviving the new depression.”
Sam and Loretta smiled and nodded at us when Butch and I got up from our chairs. I followed him back to the family room.
Seeing the byplay of mother, father and son reminded me of something. Do I have any parents? I’d like to know who they are and what they know about me. That’s for another time, though. Right now, it was more important to try to remain healthy. I said; “Let’s get our plan down. We’ll head out the same time tomorrow.....”
Butch cut me off saying; “No, we’ll head out earlier. We cut it close today.”
“Good idea. What I want to do is test how this camera photographs through a screen. Is there some room here that we can light artificially and I’ll take some shots of it from the outside?”
“Sure, whenever you’re ready.”
He led me to a room that fit the bill and had a number of un-glassed landscape paintings on the wall. I took twelve photos through the screen of an open window.
Butch drove me to town to get the pictures developed taking a longer roundabout route to avoid passing by the yellow house.
We didn’t converse much. He occasionally pointed out something of local interest, but to me it all looked like more woods, with some houses visible from the road. We went to a camera store in a small strip mall, advertising thirty minute film development.
He parked and I went inside, took care of business and confirmed the thirty minute promise with the clerk. When I got back to the car Butch said; “Now that we have some time to kill, let’s go to the bowling alley.”
“I don’t feel like bowling now.”
“No. Me either. I just want to stop by and see if any of my friends are there.”
“Fine with me. But, I’m just going to sit in the car. I’m dead tired and need to think some.”
He drove there, parked and went in. I closed my eyes and was soon asleep. The next thing I knew some girl practically had her tits in my face through the open window. After a few seconds, I looked at her face to see that she must have been all of ten years old. She said; “I know something a lot more interesting than bowling.” She reached down and put her hand on
my crotch, squeezed a bit and said; “My folks have thrown me out and I really need some money.” I wanted to jump away, but the automatic shift in the middle presented a problem. I was doing my best to navigate the hurdle, when I felt someone shaking me.
It was Butch. “Man, what are you doing, having some kind of seizure?”
“No, at least I don’t think so. I was having another asshole dream. I really hope I never have another one.”
“What was it about?”
“I don’t even want to talk about it. Can we go get the pictures yet?”
“Yeah.”
We drove back to the camera shop and I couldn’t wait to see the results. I opened the package as soon as the clerk handed it to me and was discouraged to see that eight of the twelve pictures were totally indecipherable. I paid, went back to the car and showed Butch the results.
He said; “On most of them, you can’t see shit.”
“Right, but all we need are a few good ones.”
“I don’t see any GOOD ones.”
“A few are almost clear. With a little imagination you can get the general idea. I’m not trying to win any photography awards.”
“Those fucking cops are going to look at something like this and say ‘What’s this?’ and ‘What’s that?’”
“All we can do is try, man. You got any better suggestions?”
“Yeah, let’s move to California.”
“You move to California. I’m not going to be chased out of my house by some super perverts.”
“Okay, okay. I’m just trying to bust your balls, anyway, stupid. But, the pictures are pitiful.”
“Sorry, I sounded mad. You’re right. I’m overanxious to get this whole thing resolved. Lately I can’t make up my mind whether I’m scared to death or if I want to kill somebody.”
“Well, I hope to hell it ain’t me.”
“Of course not.” I paused a few seconds, smiled and added;
“But, watch yourself.”
He started driving home, the long back way we had come. I glanced around at the scenery and sky. Some clouds had rolled in and seemed to be in a weird pattern. The largest one was white at the edges and got darker and darker toward the middle.
This didn’t strike me as unusual, but the shape was that of an imperfect oblong carpet, right over our heads. For some reason I was compelled to throw the crummy photos out the window, as if they were more of a hazard than a help.
Butch said; “Hey, man. You’re giving up on your artwork? I didn’t mean to sound that discouraging.”
“No, you were right. That was shit. Fuck it. I’ll try again sometime.”
After driving a while more, Butch said; “I ran into an old girlfriend at the alleys. She’s divorced too.”
“Oooh. Sounds interesting.”
“I think so, too. She was surprised I wasn’t drunk and said something about liking to see me that way again.”
“So, when are you going to see her again?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t make a date?”
“No, smarty. I haven’t had a date in so long; I don’t remember how to make one. I didn’t know what to say, so I started asking her about her stupid job. What would you have said?”
I laughed; “I don’t know either. Probably would have asked her about her stupid job. As far as I know, I’ve never had a date, so don’t ask me.”
He laughed saying; “If we manage to live through all this, I’ll find some excuse to go back to the bowling alley. She works full time there.”
Butch put the car back in the garage, shut the door and we went back into the family room. He wanted to play the video
games again, but I felt very drained and just wanted to sit still. I probably needed more sleep and sincerely hoped that I wouldn’t have another dream.
When I woke up, Butch was watching television. According to someone the banking crisis was alleviating and he had various suggestions about how one could profit. The logic he strongly suggested was that many of the larger banks technically had more liabilities than assets and a short term bleak outlook. He added that we as a country could not allow large scale bank failures, so one might be allowed to fail as an example to the rest. He further said that the market had all the large bank stocks priced for impending failure. So, if you could avoid the three worst, which he did not name, the others should make substantial gains, when the market realizes that they’re going to survive and prices them accordingly. At the end of the show, the credits included the facts that the broker he worked for owned a lot of bank stocks, as did he personally. A phone number was displayed on screen, where one could get “Further Investment Advice.”
Butch said; “Sounds like a good idea.”
“I like it, too. Maybe I’ll do some more thinking about it if we survive the next week or so. How much money do you have?”
“Almost nothing. How about you?”
“I’m really not sure. It can’t be much, though, if Diane had to go to Seattle to get a new job.”
“Maybe we can borrow the money.”
“Maybe we can. Right now, though, I’m just going to think about what we might run into tomorrow.” I went to the kitchen to get some coffee and when I brought it back to the family room, Butch was still watching the television. I sat in front of it, too, but stared out the window, rather than indulging.
It was a breezy day and the birds seemed to be flying furiously.
Some gray clouds rolled in, pretty much covering the sky. I didn’t take this as a portent of things to come, as this was a common summer occurrence. I watched the clouds move briskly through giving the appearance of a dark stream in the shade.
I said; “Hey, Butch. When was the last time it rained here?”
“Last week sometime. Why?”
“It looks like it could again.”
We idly passed the afternoon, not conversing much, at least not anything of importance. No doubt, we each had our own thoughts about tomorrow, a day that could affect the rest of our lives, or the lack thereof. I was thinking about the possibility of getting a good shot through a screen, how we could tie it to Mason’s house, whether or not the cops would do anything about it and that I was grateful for the help. We
cooked up some hamburgers and had dinner at 6:30PM and decided to go to bed at 7:00, so we could be well rested for the morning’s early departure.