bed. Derrick tells me that he
usually gets up at about 5 AM, and often goes to bed at midnight,
which to me sounds impossible. I could never live on 5 hours of sleep
a night. At least, not for an extended period of time.
“ Well, the body needs less
sleep as you get older,” he says. “When you get to my age you'll
realize that you want to be awake as much as possible to enjoy the
time you've got left!”
We've been watching TV for about
30 minutes when a commercial comes on, interrupting the film we've
settled on. “Oh, not this one!” exclaims Derrick, who's got
control of the remote. He quickly flicks the channel and it lands on
the news, and immediately my heart sinks about a foot into my
stomach.
I sit looking at the pictures of
my aunt and uncle on the screen in front of me. A reporter speaks
loudly over the images, but I can hardly hear her words. I feel my
heart constrict and tighten as my hands turn clammy, while in the
background Derrick starts to speak.
“ Oh, terrible this,” he
says. “I was watching this earlier, Marge, did you see it? It's not
too far from here, you know. Someone apparently killed them as they
slept.”
I can't think, I can't move. I'm
frozen, unable to look away from the screen.
“ Yes, I heard about it on the
radio. Awful, terrible tragedy. The things that happen in this world,
in this country. You wonder how some people can be driven to such
acts.”
“ Money,” I hear Derrick say
quickly. “This is about money, I know it.”
My breathing is slightly
abbreviated now and I've managed to turn my eyes down away from the
screen. I'm trying to stay calm, but I can feel a panic attack
coming, like back at the movie theater.
Then I hear my name. Not from
Derrick. Not from Marge. It's coming from the TV.
I lift my eyes slowly and my
heart stops. It's my image on the screen now. It's me plastered all
over the news.
Now things are happening all at
once. I'm standing, suddenly, my legs wobbly and heavy. I can hear my
name being said again and again. This time it's from Derrick and
Marge.
“ Kitty....Kitty....what's
going on...”
That's all I hear. It's all I
dare hear.
I don't look at Derrick or Marge
as I run to the door. I don't thank them for what they've done. I
don't wait to tell them the truth. I just run. Out of the living room
door, down the hall, straight through the main entrance to the house.
Now I'm on the dirt track, and I
can still hear voices behind me. They're making an attempt to stop
me, but they can't keep up. I'm sprinting, as fast as I can, my heart
pounding, my lungs burning. When I reach the car I open it and fall
in, fumbling my hands on the keys to start the ignition. Only now do
I look up to see Derrick coming towards me, waving his hands around
in the air. He's shaking his head and shouting, “no, no, stop, come
back.”
But I don't stop, I don't come
back. The engine roars to life and I'm quickly reversing down the
track, picking up some speed. The sound drowns out Derrick's voice,
but he's still running, still shaking his arms. When I'm a good
enough distance away I turn the wheel and spin the car. The back end
hurtles off the track and into the field, ripping up the crops. Then
I slam on the accelerator and the wheels begin to spin, churning up
the soil, sending crops flying from the back of the car. I can see
Derrick approaching just as the tires catch and the car hurtles
forward, storming off down the track and back towards the open road.
Chapter 7 - Colt
Colt
I'm sitting in a cafe off the
main road in the countryside north of Bakersfield. A large, black
coffee sits in front of me, a swirl of steam gushing from the top of
it. Outside it's dusty and warm, the late afternoon sun burning down
from above. I take a large gulp and feel the hot liquid slide down my
throat and into my stomach. I've always taken my coffee piping hot.
It's been a slow afternoon. I
have a radio, one that monitors police chatter, and it's going to
come in handy
usually gets up at about 5 AM, and often goes to bed at midnight,
which to me sounds impossible. I could never live on 5 hours of sleep
a night. At least, not for an extended period of time.
“ Well, the body needs less
sleep as you get older,” he says. “When you get to my age you'll
realize that you want to be awake as much as possible to enjoy the
time you've got left!”
We've been watching TV for about
30 minutes when a commercial comes on, interrupting the film we've
settled on. “Oh, not this one!” exclaims Derrick, who's got
control of the remote. He quickly flicks the channel and it lands on
the news, and immediately my heart sinks about a foot into my
stomach.
I sit looking at the pictures of
my aunt and uncle on the screen in front of me. A reporter speaks
loudly over the images, but I can hardly hear her words. I feel my
heart constrict and tighten as my hands turn clammy, while in the
background Derrick starts to speak.
“ Oh, terrible this,” he
says. “I was watching this earlier, Marge, did you see it? It's not
too far from here, you know. Someone apparently killed them as they
slept.”
I can't think, I can't move. I'm
frozen, unable to look away from the screen.
“ Yes, I heard about it on the
radio. Awful, terrible tragedy. The things that happen in this world,
in this country. You wonder how some people can be driven to such
acts.”
“ Money,” I hear Derrick say
quickly. “This is about money, I know it.”
My breathing is slightly
abbreviated now and I've managed to turn my eyes down away from the
screen. I'm trying to stay calm, but I can feel a panic attack
coming, like back at the movie theater.
Then I hear my name. Not from
Derrick. Not from Marge. It's coming from the TV.
I lift my eyes slowly and my
heart stops. It's my image on the screen now. It's me plastered all
over the news.
Now things are happening all at
once. I'm standing, suddenly, my legs wobbly and heavy. I can hear my
name being said again and again. This time it's from Derrick and
Marge.
“ Kitty....Kitty....what's
going on...”
That's all I hear. It's all I
dare hear.
I don't look at Derrick or Marge
as I run to the door. I don't thank them for what they've done. I
don't wait to tell them the truth. I just run. Out of the living room
door, down the hall, straight through the main entrance to the house.
Now I'm on the dirt track, and I
can still hear voices behind me. They're making an attempt to stop
me, but they can't keep up. I'm sprinting, as fast as I can, my heart
pounding, my lungs burning. When I reach the car I open it and fall
in, fumbling my hands on the keys to start the ignition. Only now do
I look up to see Derrick coming towards me, waving his hands around
in the air. He's shaking his head and shouting, “no, no, stop, come
back.”
But I don't stop, I don't come
back. The engine roars to life and I'm quickly reversing down the
track, picking up some speed. The sound drowns out Derrick's voice,
but he's still running, still shaking his arms. When I'm a good
enough distance away I turn the wheel and spin the car. The back end
hurtles off the track and into the field, ripping up the crops. Then
I slam on the accelerator and the wheels begin to spin, churning up
the soil, sending crops flying from the back of the car. I can see
Derrick approaching just as the tires catch and the car hurtles
forward, storming off down the track and back towards the open road.
Chapter 7 - Colt
Colt
I'm sitting in a cafe off the
main road in the countryside north of Bakersfield. A large, black
coffee sits in front of me, a swirl of steam gushing from the top of
it. Outside it's dusty and warm, the late afternoon sun burning down
from above. I take a large gulp and feel the hot liquid slide down my
throat and into my stomach. I've always taken my coffee piping hot.
It's been a slow afternoon. I
have a radio, one that monitors police chatter, and it's going to
come in handy
Similar Books
The Bitter Road to Freedom: The Human Cost of Allied Victory in World War II Europe
William I. Hitchcock
