Read Online Experiment With Destiny by Stephen Carr - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephen Carr
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thought he glimpsed the approach of flashing blue lights. Marcus did not wait to find out if he was right. He opened the door and pulled his aching body into the driver’s seat. Moments later he was driving away into the stormy night.
The storm cleared with the dawn. A blanket of mist clung to the grey jagged branches of the leafless trees. With the clearing of the rain, the temperature fell to leave a layer of cruel frost over the stony shore of the frozen reservoir. It was a panorama of ice…the haggard trees, dying weeds and tired earth. Marcus sat and shivered beneath the chequered rug, staring at the ice across the windscreen and glancing at the needle on the battery meter. It read ‘no charge’. He was numb from head to toe and felt barely alive. He could not tell how long he had sat there, waiting for the sunrise. It might have been minutes or it could have been forever. The perspective by which he judged such issues as the passing of time was gone. The trauma of the night seemed distant and dreamlike and, although he could not remember all of it, he was troubled by snatches of images and voices he could not deny.
Marcus was distracted by the glint of amber on the crystallised ice across the windscreen. At last, he thought. The waiting was over. With a determined effort that wracked his body, he pushed open the door and stumbled out, slipping on the frozen earth. He could see it now. The bright light caught the rim of the reservoir, piercing the mist. Marcus watched it burn brighter, rising slowly above the jagged tree-line until the circumference of its burning orb was more clearly defined against the weak blue of the sky. Although he felt no warmth from its glow, the bleakness of his dismal surroundings seemed to lift slightly. Marcus struggled to his feet and moved a few steps closer to the frozen water. The scene was now aglow with mist, frost and ice, the sunlight creating hues, tones and textures that drifted peacefully across the lake to prove that winter could indeed be beautiful.
He turned back to the van and, fighting to stay on his feet, collected the picnic basket and mannequin from the rear before setting out cautiously across the ice. It held his weight with ease, particularly at the shallower edges. He fell a handful of times, each time sending cracks shooting across the surface. Still the ice held. Reaching the centre, he tugged the rug free from his shoulders and placed it over the ice. Shivering with cold beneath the icy stiffness of the blazer, he placed the basket in the centre of the rug and began unpacking it, meticulously arranging the plastic food, cutlery, bottles and napkins in their rightful places. Finally he removed the wind-up record player and set it down near the edge of the rug, turning its handle until it would turn no more. Smiling, he surveyed the scene with pride and pleasure.
Marcus felt his eyes cloud with tears as he lifted Misty to her feet and embraced her tightly, gazing into her deep blue eyes. With one hand he brushed aside her auburn hair and pressed his cold, chapped lips against hers. With the other he pressed against the small of her back and felt her warmth flow though his stiff limbs.
“I will never leave you,” he promised. “We will never be parted. I don’t belong here my darling. I’m coming back with you.” Marcus choked back a sob. “Music? Of course…music.” He reached down and carefully lowered the needle onto the old 78 on the turntable. Releasing the catch, the black disc began to spin with a hiss and a crackle. Pulling her closer again, Marcus whispered in her ear. “I’m so sorry it didn’t work out better than this…but at least we’re here, together.” He shuffled his feet, one way and then the other, in time to the music. He felt the swirl of her dress. “Time to go home now.”
They danced. The picnic, untouched, on the frozen water.
* *
The storm cleared with the dawn. A blanket of mist clung to the grey jagged branches of the leafless trees. With the clearing of the rain, the temperature fell to leave a layer of cruel frost over the stony shore of the frozen reservoir. It was a panorama of ice…the haggard trees, dying weeds and tired earth. Marcus sat and shivered beneath the chequered rug, staring at the ice across the windscreen and glancing at the needle on the battery meter. It read ‘no charge’. He was numb from head to toe and felt barely alive. He could not tell how long he had sat there, waiting for the sunrise. It might have been minutes or it could have been forever. The perspective by which he judged such issues as the passing of time was gone. The trauma of the night seemed distant and dreamlike and, although he could not remember all of it, he was troubled by snatches of images and voices he could not deny.
Marcus was distracted by the glint of amber on the crystallised ice across the windscreen. At last, he thought. The waiting was over. With a determined effort that wracked his body, he pushed open the door and stumbled out, slipping on the frozen earth. He could see it now. The bright light caught the rim of the reservoir, piercing the mist. Marcus watched it burn brighter, rising slowly above the jagged tree-line until the circumference of its burning orb was more clearly defined against the weak blue of the sky. Although he felt no warmth from its glow, the bleakness of his dismal surroundings seemed to lift slightly. Marcus struggled to his feet and moved a few steps closer to the frozen water. The scene was now aglow with mist, frost and ice, the sunlight creating hues, tones and textures that drifted peacefully across the lake to prove that winter could indeed be beautiful.
He turned back to the van and, fighting to stay on his feet, collected the picnic basket and mannequin from the rear before setting out cautiously across the ice. It held his weight with ease, particularly at the shallower edges. He fell a handful of times, each time sending cracks shooting across the surface. Still the ice held. Reaching the centre, he tugged the rug free from his shoulders and placed it over the ice. Shivering with cold beneath the icy stiffness of the blazer, he placed the basket in the centre of the rug and began unpacking it, meticulously arranging the plastic food, cutlery, bottles and napkins in their rightful places. Finally he removed the wind-up record player and set it down near the edge of the rug, turning its handle until it would turn no more. Smiling, he surveyed the scene with pride and pleasure.
Marcus felt his eyes cloud with tears as he lifted Misty to her feet and embraced her tightly, gazing into her deep blue eyes. With one hand he brushed aside her auburn hair and pressed his cold, chapped lips against hers. With the other he pressed against the small of her back and felt her warmth flow though his stiff limbs.
“I will never leave you,” he promised. “We will never be parted. I don’t belong here my darling. I’m coming back with you.” Marcus choked back a sob. “Music? Of course…music.” He reached down and carefully lowered the needle onto the old 78 on the turntable. Releasing the catch, the black disc began to spin with a hiss and a crackle. Pulling her closer again, Marcus whispered in her ear. “I’m so sorry it didn’t work out better than this…but at least we’re here, together.” He shuffled his feet, one way and then the other, in time to the music. He felt the swirl of her dress. “Time to go home now.”
They danced. The picnic, untouched, on the frozen water.
* *
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