Read Online The Tesla Gate by John D. Mimms - Free Book Online Page A

slowly pull himself up using the counter and one of the kitchen chairs for leverage.
    â€œYour housekeeping leaves a lot to be desired,” he said as he plopped down in the chair, massaging his sore back and head. He pulled a couple of soggy Chocolate Berries from his sandy blond hair and flicked them onto the table with a look of distaste, like he had just removed bird poop.
    â€œI’m sorry … Seth did that. I haven’t had a chance to clean it up yet,” I said as I grabbed a towel from the counter and handed it to Don. He looked at me skeptically. I could see that his belief that my dead son had returned was starting to wane quickly.
    â€œIs he gone?” Don asked evenly as he toweled milk and Chocolate Berries off the back of his white golf shirt. There was going to be a big brown stain down his back unless he washed it soon.
    â€œYes,” I replied between shouts for my son.
    I was just about to ask Don for his help in the search when I spotted Seth through the partially opened door to the laundry room. He was hiding on the far side of the washing machine, in a three-foot space between the heavy duty Kenmore and the wall. When our eyes met, he frowned sheepishly, shook his head emphatically, and ducked back into his hidey hole. He was scared, embarrassed, and no telling what else he was feeling. I was not going to make him come out and perform like some freak for my boss’s amusement. Don always meant well, but his tact left a lot to be desired. I was just about to suggest we go search the garage so Seth could sneak back to his room when Don’s phone rang.
    â€œHello?”
    The caller ID was just visible to me as he held the phone to his ear; it was his wife.
    I stood and watched his face melt into a sallow ashen mask as he listened to the one-sided dialogue on the other end of the line. At first, it was easy to tell that a woman, probably Gina, was speaking to him, in a rather scolding manner, causing a look of annoyance on his face. It was when the timbre of the voice turned to a masculine, husky drawl that all color drained from Don’s face. Gina was no longer on the line, and based on what Don had told me earlier, I guessed it was his dad. I had only met the man once before he passed, so the voice was not that familiar, but Don’s face was like a macabre caller ID as he listened to the deep voice he thought he would never hear again. Even at my distance several feet away, the voice was loud enough that I could hear the same tinny vibration as Seth’s.
    After several long moments, Don rasped a single word like it was his final death throes.
    â€œOkay.”
    He dropped his arm holding the phone slowly to his side and took a deep rattling breath, then turned slowly to face me.
    â€œI’ve got to go,” he croaked.
    â€œWas that your dad?” I asked.
    Don didn’t answer, he looked at me for several long moments with the flaccid expression of one who has just seen a ghost or, in this case perhaps, talked to one.
    â€œI hope you find Seth,” he said hoarsely as he started toward the door. The skepticism in his voice that was so prevalent a few minutes ago had been replaced by terrified sincerity.
    â€œThanks, I’m sure I will,” I said, confident, looking over my shoulder in time to see Seth ducking back into his hidey hole.
    I felt sorry for Don, I truly did. I understood the emotional turmoil and confusion he was about to endure, meeting a loved one who had just ‘returned from the grave’, but for him it was worse. He and his father had never had the best relationship in the world. In fact, it had been bad. From what Don had shared with me, his father was ex-military, a Marine. He was a good man but a strict disciplinarian of a father. I suspect this may have been a positive thing for Don, knowing his propensity for sloppiness, but according to Don, his father is what caused it.
    He called it the “Barkley Syndrome”