WESTBOUND

by Steve Gwizdalski

The beginning of this story is running in the June 2004 Joblink Newsletter.

Yesterday morning his boss told him if he was late again, he was gone. He didn’t care much about it then, but he was sweatin’ it now. He had stopped for a few beers last night, saw some of his old crew and it was just one more, have another one. He hadn’t seen these guys since he went away, and they were still the same sloppy bunch of small-time losers that caused him grief the last time. What the hell, he thought, a coupla beers for old times sake couldn’t hurt. Yeah, he knew the rules, and his by-the-book parole officer had repeated them again last week – must’ve thought he was slipping up. If he only knew.

He needed to keep this job. He had to prove to his PO that he had reformed, made amends - just your average joe with a nowhere job, getting by like everybody else. But he really needed it to keep in touch with Victor, that stinkin’ pig-nosed greaseball who had thrown a little side work his way, once he found out how ‘handy’ he was. But he was into Victor for three large, and yesterday afternoon, that fat bastard had put it to him real clear – have it tomorrow or start saying your prayers. Guys that played Victor too loose usually suffered permanent damage from some ‘unfortunate accident’. If they lived.

So he had gotten it, all of it. Don’t ask. He just had to get it to Victor, but first he had to make sure his boss saw him punch in on time. Then he could stop by Victor’s shanty and make things right. He peeked at his watch – he didn’t have much time left.

He was on the toll road, heading west. He had another eight miles to go before his exit, then maybe ten minutes to get into the gate. If he kicked this beater in the ass, he could make it, as long as it held together. Come on now, he thought, as he patted the dash and pressed on the accelerator.

He was pushing eighty-five when he hit the chuckhole and felt the front end start to rise. He didn’t have any control as the car lifted up and catapulted over the guardrail, lazily spiraling like a football – in slow motion, just like everybody said. Then he was the football, punted around inside, the seatbelt buckle clipping his right ear.

The car landed on its side and rolled over onto the roof when it came to a stop at the bottom of the embankment. He was still in the car, breathing but not moving. He coughed up some blood, smelled the leaking gas. Barely conscious and unable to see, he wondered if this was it. He clenched his shirt pocket and passed out.

The two kids in the Taurus behind him had seen him go airborne. Josh and Tim, best friends since grade school, were coming home from OSU for Easter. Josh, driving, yelled for Tim to look up when he saw the beater take off. Tim watched it thump the ground, slide a little and roll over on its top. They pulled onto the shoulder, and ran down to the car. Nobody could’ve gotten there faster.

“Smell that! We gotta get him out now.” Josh, giving orders, as usual. “He’s all twisted up in there, lotsa blood. We hafta get him, Tim, get ’im outta there.”

Tim kicked out what was left of the shattered windshield so they wouldn’t get sliced up. They got down on their bellies and tried to reach in and saw he was all tangled.

“Shit. He’s twisted up worse than a pretzel. He probably ain’t even alive. Let’s go, man – that gas smell is gettin’ bad,” Tim whined. Nothing new about that, either.

“Just help me pull him out, will ya? Quit yer bitchin’.”

When they grabbed the driver’s arms, he moaned a little and gurgled up more blood. He was out of it. Josh tried to pull on his right arm, but it was tight to his shirt. He pried the driver’s fingers off the shirt pocket, and glimpsed a wad of bills – big bills. He stole a quick look up the hill, and saw other people making their way down. He turned and caught Tim’s eye, grabbed the cash and stuffed it in his jeans.

They had a tough time getting the driver untangled, and it took the both of them to work his right foot free. It seemed to take forever, the gas fumes getting stronger all the time. They finally got him loose and yanked him through the windshield. Josh tried to find a pulse on his neck, but the others running up were yelling, ‘Get out of there, now!’ Two guys snatched the driver by his shoulders and dragged him off on a run. Josh and Tim were running too, when the car blew. It made one helluva fireball; it was a good thing everyone was clear.

By now the EMT’s had made it down the hill and had started to work on the driver. Josh and Tim were a little shook, but otherwise all right. They had barely caught their breath, when the trooper showed up to ask what happened.

Josh did the talking, as always. He told the cop how he’d seen the car in the air, the way it hit and rolled. The trooper told him they’d done a brave thing, wanted their names, wanted to know if they needed medical attention. Josh said he couldn’t have done it without Tim. Tim smiled a little and said he was just happy to get the guy out.

What looked to be a plain-clothes cop caught the trooper’s attention, and motioned for him to come over. The trooper said, “You boys relax here for a bit while I go talk to the detective. I’ll probably be a few minutes. Don’t leave, though, I’m not done with you yet.”

What was that detective doing here? Where’d he come from? Josh hated to wait. He looked down his shirt and spotted some blood smeared above his right jean pocket. Tim saw it too, and anxiously looked back at Josh, but Josh said nothing. Tim opened his mouth to speak, but Josh turned away. He walked a few steps off to his left and coolly pulled out part of his tee shirt, letting it fall over the stain. He was starting to get nervous now, but knew it wouldn’t show. It never did. If Tim could just keep his mouth shut….

Josh glanced over at the EMT’s, who had the driver on a stretcher, putting the paddles to him. He watched the driver jerk around as they shot the juice to him. That didn’t look too good. Hell, nothing here was looking too good. He kept an eye on the other troopers as they checked over the accident scene, took some pictures and made a few measurements. He watched them examine the spot where the car had left the road. He turned again to see the trooper gesturing to the detective, who gave Josh a long, guarded look before he turned back to the trooper. Now what?

Someone in a uniform came by and gave the boys a bottle of disinfectant and some paper towels to clean up. There was more dirt than blood, and after he finished wiping up, Josh took another look to see how the driver was doing. Damn, he was already covered up. Josh was a little surprised – he was half expecting this guy to make it. He watched as the EMTs packed up, and thought back to the car vaulting over the guardrail, wondering what had gone through the driver’s mind. Does your life really flash before you? He started to think of what his own last thoughts would be, when the trooper came back and said, “I’m sorry to have to tell you boys this, but the driver expired. He was just too busted up – too many internal injuries.” He looked at Josh, then took a little longer look at Tim. “You okay, son?”

“Yeah” Tim said as he watched what was left of the car burn, “I’m okay.”

“Was there anything that the victim said to either of you boys?”

“Nope, never said a word” Josh again, stepping in to handle it.

“How about you? Say anything?” studying Tim now.

“Nah, nothin’” Tim said, looking the trooper in the eye.

“Well,” the trooper sighed, taking in the scene. “This guy was a bad one. We had him under surveillance for quite a while. Now I want to be real clear about this” the trooper paused for effect. Josh thought Tim had just about had it. “I’m going to ask you boys one more time, did the driver say anything at all?”

“No” Josh answered, “I don’t think he was conscious.” Doesn’t he get it?

The trooper turned to Tim, who meekly nodded his head.

“Okay. Did either of you see anything out of the ordinary, unusual or suspicious?”

“Look,” Josh took a deep breath, and waved at the burnt car. “We just tried to get him out as fast as we could. He was all bent up and bleeding…”

“You shoulda smelled the gas!” Tim blurted out, all wound up. Jeez…

“All right. All right, then.” The trooper looked back and shook his head at the detective, who, Josh could tell, wasn’t too pleased. Then he reached behind himself, and Josh thought he was going for his handcuffs. He glanced at Tim, who appeared ready to collapse. Stand your ground, dammit! The trooper then pulled out a card, and gave them both a long look. He has to read us our rights off a card? Josh wondered, surprised.

The trooper held out the card, waiting. “If you can think of anything else that might help, here’s my card. Give me or the district office a call.”

“Yeah, okay.” Josh took the card and pretended to read it, but he just couldn’t focus. His head was pounding, his heart was trying to jump out of his chest. How much did they know? Who was this guy, anyway?

“You boys take care, now.” The cop began to walk away.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, get going already.

“Well…umh..,” Tim stammered “I ..uh…I thought I saw ….”

Josh shot a quick glance at Tim. What did he say?

“Something else?” the trooper stopped dead in his tracks, turning on Tim’s words. The veteran cop had a feeling all along that something wasn’t right. Now we’ll see.

The trooper leaned in as Tim stepped closer. Josh just glared at him, but it was too late. Tim turned so Josh could see him, and started to speak in a fairly low tone, but loud enough for Josh to hear. He wanted Josh to hear.

“There is just one thing, sir,” Tim said, giving Josh a know-it-all look. Josh couldn’t believe this – after all these years. “It’s just that… well, I don’t know quite how to put this …”

“Go ahead, son ” the trooper said, looking at Josh, waiting for young Tim to open up. “Don’t be afraid to tell me anything.” He’d learned a few things over the years, doing these interrogations and investigations. Whatever it was, he’d get it out of the kid.

“Well sir,” Tim took a deep breath, “your… your fly is open.”

The trooper’s right eye started to twitch, and his ears got so red, so fast that Josh thought he was watching a cartoon. Josh tried to hold back a smile, muffled a snort and had to turn away before the trooper’s head blew off. The trooper was just seething, hissing like a steam locomotive, spraying spittle all over when he told Tim, “Let me know if you think of anything else, pertaining to the accident.” He did an about-face and stomped off towards the victim, shooting Tim one more killer look. Ooooboy, was he pissed.

Tim wiped off his forehead, and smiled back at Josh. “You ready?”

“Yeah, asshole. I’m ready.”