Hunting on Hallowed Ground: Episode 2: Dirty Laundry
Episode 2
Dirty Laundry
Tires hummed a somnolent drone as they spun on that lonely highway. The highway drone that usually relaxed drivers, and sometimes lullabied the unfortunate, agitated the man driving. Silence is what the man driving wanted; he wished that he could turn off that drone– like his radio. A synaptic roll of film spun his head, like the tires that hummed. Leaves drifted and flew around spinning tires; the man driving felt like a leaf and the wind was fate, no matter his objections and protests to the force that governed him. His black off-road vehicle, carried a heavy weight of guilt, sped past a sign that said: Welcome to Glencoe.
Gray remorseful eyes stared into the rearview mirror; he watched the black road, the bare trees, the gray sky, and the reflected world disappear, and the man wished his memories would vanish like that reflected world–he watched. Still in denial, he wondered how any of what had happened could be real. None of it made any sense, but no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise; the crimson stain on his camo said it was real, and his splitting headache reinforced the reality of it. Not paying attention, he almost missed his turn.
He looked outside his driver-side window, and saw the rocky precipice that towered over the trees, and the town. He knew over that cliff, deep in the woods laid a terrible secret–the dead boy.
As he drove past the cliff, his mind wondered back to summer memories. He was hiking through thick woods, in search of a new hunting spot. Blazing Alabama-summer-heat cooked the back of his neck. Sweat rolled down his brow and into his eye; he winced in pain and wiped the perpetual sweat from his forehead. He walked on trails; he walked off trails–deep into the wild.
There is where he found it; a peculiar pair of massive oak trees that were white. The branches of those ancient oaks were bare, and had been for a long time. Trunks curved and their branches hung high over a stone barrier; the trees formed an archway. Black stones stacked with white ones; the white stones made a shape that resembled a crescent moon that had three lines converging to its center. He walked up to the stone barrier, felt the stones, and climbed over. It was a place that time and man had forgotten.
What was his new secret hunting spot was a now a place never wanted to go back to. Possibly, the man never wanted to hunt again.
Images of that terrible morning played on loop–never stopping. A sudden realization cut the eternal film loop, and stopped the projections of horrendous memories; he had a big problem.
Shit! Why did I pick that…boy up? he thought. Blood, he could feel the blood of the youth on his skin. He had impulsive thoughts of burning or throwing away his clothes, but he quickly realized that wouldn’t work. He was wearing a brand new camo suit his wife had gotten him last month; it wasn’t a cheap one either. He knew he would have to wash the blood off his hunting suit. He looked at the clock on his dashboard; it was eight minutes till eight. Maybe…maybe, Rachel and Chase are still asleep? Please god, let that washer be empty.
Somnolent drones abruptly turned into sporadic grating, as the man turned left onto a gravel driveway. The man was shook like dice as he traveled that rough and long driveway, all that shaking did not help his headache. He began to think of the loud noise his car made as it crunched the gravel. If they weren’t up before, they might be now. Finally, he pulled up to his house.
Carefully, the large man opened the door, and tried to oppress any protests the door could make; if his wife and child weren’t already awake from his loud arrival. Boots outside, and now the man walked quietly in his socks, to the laundry room. He stepped as if he was trying to avoid the wooden floor, and walk on the air above it. As he got closer to the laundry room, a disappointing sound met his stinging ears; he could hear the washer running. Maybe it’s on rinse… I could go ahead and put them in the dryer, if that’s the case? The same disappointment that met his ears also met his frustrated gray eyes. Shit! It’s not even halfway…not even a quarter through the wash cycle. These clothes were just put in here…she must be up!
His heart was a getaway car fleeing the scene of a crime, and the cylinders of that car’s engine were about to blow, but the man’s body still remained in that laundry room. Streams of brine began to flow on that worried creased forehead. Cold electricity jolted through him; he wanted to run away, skip town, and change his name. The heavy breaths he drew were like bellows, and those bellows fueled that getaway car. All of this fear prepared his body to fly–but grounded his mind.
Lie, he couldn’t lie about the blood on him, he had no animal to show for it. He looked around and he saw his saving grace, freshly folded laundry. The man savagely stripped off the layers as fast as he could; as each layer came off, it was revealed the man was not as portly as he appeared; he had quite a bit of muscle under all that softness. Finally, he was down to his underwear. Then he heard it, “Gus! I heard ya pull up. What are ya doing down there?”
Panicked, Gus was thinking of what to do with his bloody clothes. He looked down at the clothes, and to his shock saw that his dirty laundry leaked a tiny amount of blood on the floor. Fuck! Oh shit I’m screwed! He could hear Rachel coming down the steps calling his name, “Gus! Do you hear me?” Gus had an idea, a stupid idea, but an idea. He fumbled through those blood stained clothes, he remembered he a had a knife. Time was of the essence, Gus unsheathed the knife, and looked down where the blood had stained the left side of his stomach; without hesitation he sliced his flesh. Fuuu- Oh god that hurts! “Gus! What do ya want for breakfast? Jeez, man must be deaf, stupid, or both,” she said in an irritated voice. Quickly, he put the buck knife back in the pocket of his blood stained camo. He could hear Rachel walking towards him now yelling, “ Can you not hear me! Gus! I swear to god you better be bleedin.” Gus, turned toward his approaching wife; blood ran from his self-inflicted wound. Rachel let out a scream of horror as she saw her bloodied husband!
“What happened to ya Gus! We’re going to the hospital!” she said with her hands shuddering beside her head.
“It’s fine… really I’m ok babe; it looks worse than it actually is,” his mouth said one thing, but those nervous gray eyes objected.
Gus heard small feet hitting the floor above him: Chase.
“Worse? You’re bleedin like a stuck pig, look at ya Gus,” her amber eyes were opened so wide that they could have rolled out of their sockets, as she pointed at the wound.
“Rachel it’s just an old wound that opened up on me this morning, just made a mess that looks worse than it is,” then Gus said, “I cut myself working on Mr. Ledbetter’s deer last night, knife slipped.”
“I don’t remember ya cuttin yourself…last night?” Rachel twisted her head, keeping her eyes on Gus, and she waded through memories, searching for minutia that proved his claim.
“Dad! Dad! What happened, are ya ok!” he frantically said, interrupting his mother’s internal investigation.
“I am ok Chase, I promise you…looks worse than it is.”
Rachel walked past her bloody husband, and inspected the clothes on the floor behind him, “ Good lord Gus, you bled all over your clothes... Ohhh! and that’s the new camo suit I just got ya for your birthday.” She lifted the pile of clothes up and saw some of the blood dyed the floor, “Gross! Ya got blood on my laundry room floor.” Then Rachel said, “Well, I’ve cleaned up worse.”
“Like what mom, what’s worse than blood?” he had his head cocked to the side with pondering eyes.
“Remember that time when ya were six; ya had that stomach flu and ya had sh–,”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me mom,” his cheeks flashed to red like a stoplight.
“Well son, it happened… and that’s always worse than blood.” Then Rachel looked up at Gus, and asked once more, “You sure we don’t need to take ya to the hospital, this is a good bit of blood… at least get ya stitched up?”
“Yeah dad, at least get ya checked.”
“Bud, I am alright. You don’t see me droppin dead do ya,” said Gus in a forced, but reassuring tone.
“Alright Gus, I’ll get your mess cleaned up… you go get a sjower, and I’ll have breakfast ready when ya get out.” Then she said, “ Hurry it up we’ve gotta leave here in time for church.”
“Do we have to go babe, couldn’t we stay here and just… rest for the day?”
“Yeah mom, can’t we just stayyy here?”
Rachel looked up at Gus and said, “Church or hospital.” It wasn’t a question, it was an ultimatum. Gus knew going to the hospital that doctors would ask questions; questions, he didn’t want asked. Possible questions that would disprove his already wild lie.
“All right, church it isss,” said Gus. That bloody and hairy mess ascended the steps in his white briefs.
Those young blue eyes that were worried and scared for his dad, now displayed humor. The young boy saw the white briefs, and he tried to repress a giggle, but his happy parabolic-pursed lips couldn’t contain all of that humorous air, “ Schmmmff, schmmmff-fufff-ffmmmff, He-he-hey dad, schmmmfff, I-I reealy like yur, scmmf-fuffmm–WHITEY-TIGHTEYS!!!” The boy began bellowing an innocent laugh.
Gus wanted to genuinely laugh; he had to reach up into the recesses of his mind, and reached for Thalia’s mask of comedy. His face was tracing paper with a drawn on smile, and that feigned smile did not conceal the somber expression underneath. “Ha-ha-ha”, Gus forced that robotic sound out of his mouth, which could have been confused for sarcasm as he ascended the steps.
She was on her knees cleaning the blood off the laundry room floor. Her hands performed a pantomime dance that conveyed her mind was on the task at hand; her mind was analyzing the absurdity of this morning. Rachel couldn’t help, but think that Gus was lying. Why would he lie… about being cut? How did he cut himself, maybe he was embarrassed about the truth? Whatever the case, Rachel did not like being lied to.
Scarlet streaks turned into scarlet swirls; the precious red currency of life flowed down the legs, over the feet, and away from the digits–to the drain. Water washed away the blood, but it did not wash away the sin. Humid ghosts shrouded the burly man in the shower. The steam, the blood, and his own nudity teleported his mind back to the woods. He tried to run away from those woods, but could never outrun them–never. The terrible secret would always catch him and torture him with his guilt. Questions, with no answers, ricocheted in his head. How, I still don’t understand any of this? I know what I saw this morning, I think? I shot at he most beautiful deer I had ever seen, not a boy? How could a naked boy walk in that cold? Did my bullet miss the deer and hit the boy? Was there even a deer? The more questions Gus asked himself, the more unanswered questions that followed.
Finally, his wound, the extreme excuse, stopped bleeding. Luckily, Gus had a little extra flesh on his belly, which protected his self-inflicted wound, and he knew this.
Gus wrapped the towel around his waist, and proceeded to the sink. As he walked towards the sink; he could feel a cold draft. Is the damn heat off, in this house? Slouched over, he put his hands on the bathroom counter, and looked up. Gus felt icy arrows and menthol ants attacking his hot damp flesh. That freezing wind howled at Gus, and caused his body to be surrounded by vapor; his exhaled breath was a terrified fog.
When he looked at the frosted looking-glass it did not reflect his body, but it reflected his guilt. He stared into that misty window and could see woods and the boy with his pagan crown; the dead boy walked toward him. Gus wanted to look away, but his eyes were magnetized to the horror. Now, the boy was barely out of a hand’s reach; his features were obscured from the misty glass, but Gus knew it was him. A dead hand reached out with the palm up presenting something familiar; the object in the boy’s hand shimmered. A drop of condensation rolled down the mirror, and revealed a strip of those dead blue eyes. Gus was able to close his eyes and shake his head. He opened his eyes and now saw his obscure reflection. Come on… Gussss! Keep it together man.
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