Accident

Accident

  By Khaleel Jooste

  Copyright Khaleel Jooste 2014

  This free ebook may be copied, distributed, reposted, reprinted and shared, provided it appears in its entirety without alteration, and the reader is not charged to access it.

  Ayat Al-Kursi

  Allah - there is no deity except Him, the Ever-Living, the Sustainer of [all] existence. Neither drowsiness overtakes Him nor sleep. To Him belongs whatever is in the heavens and whatever is on the earth. Who is it that can intercede with Him except by His permission? He knows what is [presently] before them and what will be after them, and they encompass not a thing of His knowledge except for what He wills. His Kursi extends over the heavens and the earth, and their preservation tires Him not. And He is the Most High, the Most Great. (Surah Al-Baqarah 2:255)

  As Allah wills

  #Fake

  Detrimental

  Accident

  “James slow down, please, dear,” she grabs the dashboard and looks out the window.

  “You’re gonna run into that bus if you don’t slow down. James, please!”

  “For goodness sake, Patricia. Would you shut your trap!” He swerves past the bus and gets back into the lane, narrowly escaping a head on collision with a limo.

  “James, I’m begging you. Please slow down.” She starts crying.

  “Not the tears again, Trish. I can’t stand the way your face looks with your make up all…” he swerves to the right to avoid a biker. Honks his horn a few times.

  *

  “Report.”

  He glances at the screen.

  She starts.

  “All systems go. The girl and the boy are in position.”

  He walks to her side of the desk and listens.

  “What about the vehicle?”

  She taps the screen and the car comes into view. We have full control. We are awaiting your orders, Sir.”

  He looks at the live feed coming from the blue Mercedes SUV.

  “How long till we can initiate collision?”

  She taps the screen and a few figures appear.

  “They’re travelling at 87mph. If they maintain that, impact should be in the next two minutes, thirty seven seconds.”

  He walks to the door.

  “That’s too long. We’ll miss the target. Speed it up.”

  “As you wish, Sir.”

  She taps her screen.

  “I’m heading to the golden room.”

  He leaves the room.

  *

  “Please, James. Let’s go back home. Stop the car. We don’t have to do this.” She sobs.

  “We spoke about this, Patricia. And please stop crying, for goodness sake woman! Pull yourself together, enough with the tears already!”

  He swerves and passes a bus.

  Gets back into the lane and speeds ahead.

  *

  He enters the golden room.

  “We are ready.”

  He goes and takes a seat.

  They all close their eyes.

  *

  “This is turning out to be the worst date ever, right.”

  He holds her dark-brown hair away from her face as she continues to puke.

  “The worst.” She pukes more.

  He tries his best not to look.

  “Please… some water.” She does her best to hide her face from him.

  He hands her a bottle.

  “Tha... thanks. You can let go of my hair. I’m fine.”

  She rinses her mouth, gives a shy girly spit and turns to face him. Dark hair falls back over her shoulders.

  “Next time I get to choose where we go.” She checks her black and white turtleneck top and faded-purple skinny jeans. Satisfied, she starts walking in the direction of the bus stop.

  “Whatever you want.” He follows her, looks over his shoulder at his black 1969 Mustang Boss; steam coming from the radiator.

  “I think you should take the bus without me.” He runs his hair through his dark, spikey hair. “I don’t feel comfortable leaving my baby like this.”

  She turns.

  “Are you kidding me?” Her bright hazel eyes large.

  He smiles awkwardly.

  “I have never taken the bus in my life. I’m most certainly not going on one for the first time by myself. I don’t even know where we are.” She shakes her head and says something under her breath.

  “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Okay. I didn’t plan for this to happen. This has never happened before.” He wants to touch her shoulder, but rather puts a fist in his mouth and bites down hard.

  “She’s never done this before.”

  “Guess it’s my lucky day. What’s next? More of those… what were they? Gross.” She turns her head and spits shyly into a tissue. Rolls it up neatly and tosses it in a trashcan on the side of the road.

  “Guess you got the gooseberries. They’re… never mind. It’s better if you don’t know. You might… you know… go again. Wouldn’t want that.” Again he runs his fingers through his hair. He tries to smile, but all he manages is a tight pull of his lips.

  *

  “Remember… focus on the girl.”

  His voice cold. Monotonous.

  “The boy is of no concern to us. Dead or alive; it doesn’t matter.”

  He opens his eyes and scans the dark room.

  “Focus your attention on the girl. Without her, all will be lost.”

  “Focus.”

  He closes his eyes.

  *

  “When will the bus be here?” She wants to sit down, but after a quick glance at the bench, she decides to stand. She stares at the torn movie poster for A Series of Unfortunate Events starring Jim Carrey, frowns then crosses her arms across her chest. She shivers slightly.

  “No idea. Guess we’ll have to wait and see. From what I remember, there’s one every hour.”

  He takes off his plain, navy letterman and hands it to her. She puts it over her shoulders.

  “Thanks. It is kinda chilly.” She looks at him; softens her eyes.

  “I’m sorry I’m such a spoil sport. I know you meant well. It really is beautiful here. Where are we exactly?”

  “It’s where my folks grow up. My real folks, I mean.” He looks at her then looks away. Frown on his forehead. He runs his fingers through his hair and scratches the back of his neck.

  “Your real folks?” She asks as she brushes a few strands of her brunette hair from her face. Her expression as though she is surprised, but mostly confused.

  He looks down and kicks a rock lightly. Puts his hands in his jean pockets and slumps his shoulders. He looks up slowly and focuses on her eyes.

  With narrow eyes, he starts.

  “The Grays’ are not my folks.” He clears his throat and swallows hard. Observing her eyes penetrating his, he looks awkwardly down, runs his fingers through his hair and softly starts kicking with his plain white DGKs at nothing.

  She looks at the sky.

  The sun was starting to set. There were a few orangey-purple clouds on the horizon. The cool breeze made her clutch at his jacket more.

  She faces him.

  “So, what does that mean? Are you adopted?” She tries her best not to sound as if she’s prying.

  He stops kicking the ground and looks up. Makes eye contact, but then looks past her and settles his gaze on a row of trees along the side of the road. Birds were chirping and a family of wild geese were headed to a pond nearby.

  “The state put me in a foster home. Later the Grays came and adopted me, yes.” He focuses on her face, tries to read her expression, his dark-brown eyes were curious. He swallows and his jaw muscles start twitching. He scratches his day old stubble and puts his hands in his jean pockets. When her eyes do that penetrating thing, he looks away.r />
  She walks slowly to him and hands him back his jacket.

  “I’m warm enough now. You need it more with that vest you’re wearing.”

  “Are you sure?” He reaches for the jacket, but doesn’t take it.

  “I’m sure.” She takes a tissue from her small purse and wipes the dirt of the kerb and sits down. Stretches her legs into the street and taps for him to sit next to her.

  He puts on his jacket and sits down to her right.

  After a short silence, she begins.

  “Why have you never told me this before? Why did the state take you from your folks?” She takes her hair from her right shoulder and throws it all over her left and twirls her finger through it. Eyes focused on his face.

  He looks at the horizon, breathes deeply, then faces her.

  “I can’t remember… exactly.” He tries to maintain eye contact but can’t. Something about her eyes makes him uncomfortable.

  “I remember there was a man, dressed in a grey trench coat that came to our house; he spoke to mom.” He looks at her quick then towards the horizon, scratches his cheek and runs his fingers through his hair.

  “Dad got upset and told the man to leave. Soon as he did…” he swallows, looks at her, “dad hit mom…” he looks down slumps his shoulders more.

  “Mom ran to the bedroom and locked herself in. Dad was banging on the door for a while. He threatened to shoot the door down with his hunting rifle…” he gives a quick smile, then frowns.

  “Then… I can’t remember. He came into the kitchen. I was having supper… no…nothing.” He shakes his head and looks at her.

  “I can’t remember. Last I do though, is seeing mom with a hammer in her hand. She was peeking through the lounge window. It was dark. There was banging on the front door. Not sure who it was… think it was dad. He went out drinking.”

  He gets up and starts pacing slowly.

  “I never told you, because it didn’t matter, you know. The Grays are my parents as far as I am concerned. But…” He hesitates.

  “There’s something about my folks that bothers me and it has to do with this place.”

  He stops pacing and stares in the direction of the farm away in the distance.

  *

  She slips into the golden room quietly.

  Walks over to him and whispers in his ear.

  Leaves as quietly as she entered.

  He opens his eyes.

  “We are ready.”

  *

  “James, what do you think you’re going to achieve by confronting him?” She was more hysterical than before; tears still rolling down her cheeks.

  “I have to try, Patricia. He’s our son.”

  “I know. But, James, he said…” she grabs the dashboard with her right hand and clutches her safety belt with the left.

  “Please, slow down at least. Look at all the cars on the road. It’s getting dark. You know you can’t see well when it’s dark.” She sobs more.

  “Nothing wrong with my eyes, Patricia. You are the one that wears specs, not me.” He swerves past a few cars and enters the lane again.

  “Nothing you say is going to change my mind. I have to try and do something at least. I can’t just let him leave like this. Please understand.” He honks his horn; seems irritated that there are so many cars on the highway.

  *

  “Is that why you brought me here? To tell me about this?” she gets up and stretches her legs quick and rubs her shoulders.

  “No.” He faces her.

  “No, Kimberly.” His voice suddenly agitated.

  “Then why, Ben? Why are we here?”

  He walks over to her. Relaxes his arms to his side.

  “We’re friends right? This date was as friends, yes?” He looks her in her eyes.

  “Sure. I know you are with Claire, despite you two not talking right now. She knows you took me on this date, trip, too. Why?”

  “I needed to… show you.” He seems to search for words. Giving up, he bites down on his lower lip.

  “Show me what?” She looks at him curiously; brushes away a few strands of hair from the corner of her mouth.

  “I can’t say.” His face tenses up.

  “What do you mean you can’t say?” She seems confused.

  “I can’t explain it, but I think you can help me too, if you saw it.” He focuses on her eyes. They penetrate his; he lets her.

  “There’s something about this place that keeps drawing me here.” He looks at the trees, runs his gaze over the small hills and then back at her.

  “Claire doesn’t understand it. I’ve tried to explain it to her… but after… you know, she won’t let me. I need you to talk to her. I need her, Kimberly. She is my everything. She’s all that matters to me. But she won’t let me get close to her.” He tries to hide his frustration, both hands tight fists. His knuckles white.

  “But you can. You can explain to her after you see it.”

  “See what, Ben. Please, you’re confusing me. What is it that you want me to see?”

  “I can’t explain it to you.” He kicks hard at nothing and looks into the sky.

  “I wanted to show you, but now… the car broke down and you got sick.” He sighs.

  “I didn’t think it was the best time.” He settles his narrow eyes on hers. His left eyebrow lifts and curls.

  “Well, is it far from here? Can we walk there? I would like to see.” She pulls at her top and brushes a hand over her thigh.

  “I don’t mind walking.”

  He looks at the farm in the distance. A windmill stood on a hill to right of a big barn. The main house seemed in shambles. The picket fence lay halfway on the ground. The gate was missing.

  “There.” He points with his left index finger, faces her and tries to read her face.

  Her eyes penetrate his, but he doesn’t look away. He opens his eyes more; the thick lines on his forehead disappear. He also seems to breathe easier. He couldn’t explain it, but there was something to Kimberly that put him at ease, but it also felt like she sees too much, like she could really see him.

  It made him uncomfortable.

  She smiles at him.

  “It is quite a way, but I am curious to see. Please take me.”

  He smiles too, his eyes bright. Fists relaxed. He sighs as if relieved.

  “After you.”

  *

  “Why is that car following us?” She looks back; her blonde hair blowing in all directions; the roof of their Fiat 500 down.

  “Which one?” She looks in the rear-view mirror.

  “The one with the FREY number plate. It’s been tailing us since we left the drive-in.”

  “Are you sure?” She speeds up.

  “I’m sure, Kris.”

  “Why would they be following us? You didn’t flash that… you know. I told you to be careful.”

  “Relax. I haven’t taken it from the thing since we left the house.”

  “Taylor, you have to be careful. Do not trust these people. I am warning you.”

  “Kris, relax. The thing is safe. I told you, everything has changed. After the shooting at, you know, I have been more careful. I still adore you, you know.” She laughs.

  “I’m glad, wouldn’t want J to go low. Not again. You know what she gets like when she has to do that accent.”

  “Yip. She is something else. Likes to get loud that one.” She looks back.

  “That car still tailing us?”

  “Yip. I told you. That drive-in was nothing but a bad idea. I knew it was nothing but trouble.”

  “No one forced you to come with. You have no one but yourself to blame.” She removes her sunglasses and gives her the eye.

  “You wanted to watch that stupid movie. How many times have you got to see it?”

  “Hey, you know I like Pleasantville. It’s the whole…”

  “Black and white thing?”

  “What can I say, I’m just that way. Like them classics, even if only the impression
that it is. Not these CGI crap they got all over the place. Next time we should check out Super 8. Like what Spielberg did there too.”

  “Those aliens not CGI enough for you?”

  “Gets me out of the house, Taylor. I’ve been cooped up in that apartment since you spilled the beans. Can’t go to a cinema. Don’t want to either. Drive-in lets me get out and leaves me in the car. Quick getaway. And I…”

  She doesn’t finish.

  She taps the sunglasses on her lap.

  “When’s my turn with those specs? You’re hogging all the good stuff.”

  “When you learn to be more careful. These are to give the impression of…” She trails off and looks in the rear view mirror.

  “I think you’re right. There’s something up with that car.”

  Kristin looks back.

  “No use trying to lose them. Head on home.”

  Taylor puts her sunglasses back on. Presses a button on the side.”

  “What you doing?”

  “Nothing. I’ll tell you later.”

  “Is the monkey still doing tricks at the carnival?” She gives her a sly look.

  “The monkey is indeed. Should have dumped that loser when I had the chance.”

  “That serious? Hope you got the good sauce at home. I feel like some sandwiches with extra cheese. Perhaps I’ll grill a few.”

  They both laugh and speed on.

  *

  “It’s time. Do it now.”

  He puts his index finger to his right temple.

  The golden room darkens more.

  *

  “Do you have the camera ready?” She straightens her top.

  “Yes, Miss Parker. We’re all set.”

  “Good. We should be going live any minute now.” She adjusts her ear piece.

  “Over the lips, the teeth the tongue. Over the lips, the teeth the tongue.”

  She puts her hand on her diaphragm. Takes a few deep breathes. Relaxes her shoulders and wiggles her fingers. She straightens up.

  “Woo, Whoa, War, Wow. Woo, Whoa, War, Wow.”

  She rolls her tongue.

  Takes a few more breathes.

  “This is Jill Parker reporting… woo, whoa, war, wow… hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.”

  “Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala…hmmmmmmmm…rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.” She inhales deeply. Holds it for a few seconds and blows it all out.

  She starts singing.

  “Oh, a life in the prairrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrie shack… when the rrrrrrrrrrrain beginssssssssssssss to pourrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…Drip, drip, it comes through the roof and ssssssssssssssssssome comes through the doorrrrrrrrrrrrrr…The tenderfoot curses his fate and… faintly mutters… Ah!This bloommmmmmmmmmmmmmin’…country’s a frrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraud and I want to go hommmmmmmmmmmmme to my maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”