Isn’t this where…

“We got a call, something about a gunshot heard coming from this house, do either of you two know anything about it?” Asked one of the policemen.

“Uh…” Ash looked at him blankly, not knowing what to say.

“Well, officer, that’s kind of a long story.” Brock said.

“No, it’s a yes or no question. Do you mind if we take a look inside?”

“Sure, go right ahead, can we go?” Ash asked.

“No, you two better stay here.” One of the other officers said. Yet another one went in, came right back out to get other cops, who went in and also came back out. They stood in a circle, whispered, pointed to Ash and Brock, and whispered some more.

“Do either of you two know anything about what went on in there?” One of them finally asked. Ash raised his hand.

“Yeah, I do. I shot him.” He said. Brock nudged him with his elbow.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“I know what I did. Don’t worry, they wouldn’t send someone like me to jail, they’d stick me back in an institution.”

“You’re gonna have to come with me.” The policeman said to Ash. “You better come along, too, sir.” He said to Brock.

Ash sat handcuffed in the back of the police car. He took the photo of his work out of his jacket pocket and looked at it. He had the sudden urge to sleep, but at first didn’t fight it because he knew he had the reminder of what he did, he could be reminded that his looking was over. But something suddenly pulled him into alertness. He hadn’t written down that the man in the picture was the one he’d been looking for.

“Officers, do either of you two have a pen?” he frantically asked the policemen in the front seats. They didn’t answer. “Please, it’s vitally important that I have a pen. I need a pen.” He frenetically searched his pockets but couldn’t find one. “Please, I won’t try anything, I just need to write something down. Come on, please I don’t have much time. PLEASE!” he cried out. “I can’t forget this. I have this condition, I forget things, I can’t make memories, I need to write this down, for the love of God, just loan me a pen, I’ll give it right back, I won’t try anything, please!” He pleaded in vain with the officers, but already the urge to sleep was too great to fight. He was out within seconds.

Ash drove quickly down the road to Eden Prairie.

“What is your hurry?” Misty asked.

“Oh, just want to make good time.” Ash answered. “So what kind of noise was the car making?”

“What?”

“Brock said you told him the car was making weird noises when you were driving it, so he was under it doing something when I went to borrow his car.”

“No…I didn’t say anything about it making noise…”

They’d only gone a couple yards when a car in front of them suddenly stopped; likely there was an animal on the road, as the road they were was right next to the woods. Ash tried to swerve left, but the wheel stuck. He tried to break, but the break wasn’t working. The line had been cut. Their car crashed into the car in front of it, and Ash and Misty were flung through the windshield.

Ash was slow to wake up. His head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it. He tried to sit up, but some unknown force pinned him to the ground. Through the haze, he heard someone calling his name. Or, at least, he thought he heard someone calling his name. Okay, think. You know who you are. He thought dazedly to himself. You’re Ash. You know where you live…or at least where you grew up. Pallet. But where are you now? And why does your head feel split in two? Ash looked up at the night sky, and dimly felt below him. He was lying on concrete. He turned his head to the left, and thought he saw someone else sprawled lifelessly next to him, and behind that a heap of something that was either luminous or burning. He tried to make out what it was, but felt the sudden urge to go to sleep…

Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards

-Soren Kierkegaard

Did you like the story? E-mail all comments, complaints, death threats, cookie recipes, gripes, questions, answers, and first-born children to Stephencjones13@earthlink.net