Elliot Savant: A Free Fantastical Fable of Foster Flat Digital Short, Page 2

stare at Dodger, smiling. Suddenly, his smile dropped away, and he pointed a pudgy finger in Dodger's direction. At first Dodger thought the gesture was a plea for help and was about to answer when his shoulder was suddenly caught in a vice-like grip, and he was spun around.

  "What the hell are you doing? Trying to break into my car?"

  Dodger tried to free himself from the man's grasp, but the long bony fingers simply dug in deeper, paralyzing his left arm. The man was tall, well over six-feet, dressed in a black suit that was in desperate need of an iron, and a white shirt in equally desperate need of washing.

  "I said, what you doing around my car, boy?" The man growled again. "Take your damn skateboard and get on down the road before I call the cops on you, ya hear?"

  Dodger opened his mouth to retaliate, but the man chose that moment to shove him out of the way. Dodger tripped over his skateboard and found himself for the second time that afternoon with his rump soaking up the oil of the parking lot pavement. He sat there dazed by the sudden attack when he heard the engine of the Caddy start up. With a squeal of rubber, the black machine leaped out of the parking space in reverse. Dodger had just enough time for his eyes to fix on the trailer hitch as the Caddy bore down on him.

  In the last second, Dodger rolled with all his might to the left, the rear wheel of the Caddy missing his nose by inches. He scrambled to his feet in time to catch a glimpse of the license plate -- RNT-1109. He repeated it to himself several times until he was sure he would remember it.

  Wait till Uncle Matt hears about this, Dodger thought as he walked over to pick up his skateboard that had also narrowly escaped from being run over. He righted the board with one foot and kicked off in the direction of the fish and tackle shop where his uncle worked. He won't believe what happened. As he exited the parking lot, he had the uncomfortable feeling that he might be right about his uncle. He probably wouldn't believe any of it.

  "Let me be sure I've got this straight," Matt said as he pulled a bottle of beer out of the cooler. "You were in front of the Vantage Drug Store when you happened upon this strange black limousine with out-of-state plates. You looked in the rear seat of the limo and low and behold, there was this monster. Is that the gist of it?"

  "Not a monster and no, it wasn't a limo. I don't know exactly what was in the back seat, but it was human, and it was locked up without so much as one window cracked open. It had a thick leather collar around its neck that looked way too small. It wasn't exactly locked up, least not as it had been. It must have broken out of the wooden coffin it had been in. And the car was a Cadillac, not a limo. Come on Uncle Matt, I'm telling you the truth on this one."

  His uncle rested his elbows against the weathered wood of the counter. He took a long swallow of beer and shook his head. "I don't know, Dodger. Your story smells kinda fishy to me; pardon the pun. You know, your mom warned me about your tall tales and vivid imagination."

  "I know Uncle Matt, but this really happened. I'm telling you the truth, and if we don't do something, there's no telling what that old cote will do to the boy." Dodger's voice threatened to break from the strain.

  His uncle glanced at him; his eyes squinting in the sun. With a smile, he asked, "what do you suggest we do?"

  "I don't know," Dodger answered. "Go tell the police for starters. They can put out an all points bulletin for the Caddy. Dragnet the area . . ."

  "Whoa there. Hold on a second. I think you're forgetting something. I'm not held in the deepest esteem by Chief Kenwood and neither are you. Need I remind you of last summer?"

  Dodger groaned as he recalled the close brush he'd had the previous year with the Police Chief of Foster Flat.

  "It wasn't my fault. Besides, surely Kenwood has forgotten about it by now," Dodger said but didn't even convince himself.

  "Are you kidding? Kenwood has a memory like an elephant. . . "

  "And a body to match." Dodger finished the sentence for his Uncle, who frowned at the remark.

  "Do you really think for one minute that Kenwood is going to have anything to do with either of us?"

  "Well . . ." Dodger replied slowly. "I thought maybe he would listen to you; you being old like him and all."

  Matt finished the beer off and tossed the bottle into the oil drum reserved for such waste. "Old has nothing to do with it. One of these days, maybe you'll realize how much your tall tales cost you and everyone around you. In the meantime, I suggest you take this latest one, write it up and send it off to the Enquirer. You may as well make a few bucks off it and help pay for your keep. Otherwise, keep it to yourself. I'm sick of hearing about it."

  "But Uncle Matt . . ."

  "No buts. I gotta get back to work. How about making yourself useful and get yourself home and make us some dinner?"

  "Yeah, okay," Dodger replied. "It's just that the kid in the Caddy really needs help. You can't imagine how sad and lonely he looked."

  "No, you're right. I can't imagine. I'll leave that to you. Now, get your butt home. I'll be there in a couple of hours." As his uncle walked by, he tousled Dodger's hair. "Be a good kid and stay out of trouble. Okay?

  Dodger nodded, running his fingers through his hair in an effort to straighten it. "I'll try."

  Grunt Rollins pulled the black Cadillac close against the Silverstream trailer. As he turned the engine off, he reached behind him in the rear seat and caught the dwarf by the leather collar.

  "Idiot!" He yelled at the boy as he yanked him over the seat and pulled him out of the car.

  "Ediollt!" The boy slurred back, holding onto the collar in an effort not to be choked. Pain and fear distorted the already marred face into a grotesque mask.

  "Gracie! Get out here and give me a hand," Grunt screamed at the top of his voice, slapping at the dwarf with his free hand at the same time.

  A haggard old lady flung the door of the trailer open and rushed out, pulling a faded pink apron off as she ran.

  "Hold it down. You want to get us kicked out of this dump before we make enough money to pay for it? What's all the fuss about, anyhow?"

  "This idiot is getting too damn strong for his own good. Look what he did to the box. I'll have to take it in and see if I can fix it," Grunt said as he passed the dwarf off to Gracie and turned back to pull the damaged box from the back seat.

  Gracie glanced through the open door into the back seat and saw the splintered remains where the latch had been pulled loose.

  "Tch, tch," Gracie said, shaking her head. "If it tan't one thing, it's another. I hope to hell you remembered to get his medicine."

  "I got it, don't worry. I'm as tired as you are of fixin' up after him. Excepting for the box though, it was a right worthwhile trip. I picked up a couple double strength padlocks for the lid, and while I was in the hardware store, I ran into our first customer."

  "Well, once we get him inside, we'll give him a shot to calm him down, and then you can tell me about it." Gracie said as she walked towards the trailer, dragging the boy behind her. "Don't forget the packages."

  Grunt reached over to the front seat for the packages and threw them into the wooden coffin, then dragged it into the trailer.

  "How many drug stores did you have to try 'fore you found it? Gracie asked, wincing as she glanced at the receipt.

  "I told you it was a good trip. Only had to stop at two. I know," Grunt said as he saw her face. "The price keeps going up. I figure we'll just have to pass it on to our customers. Besides which, it's close to going out of date, but the druggist assured me it would still be full strength. I figure as fast as we use it up, it wouldn't be a problem. The druggist hardly even glanced at the prescription."

  "All they care about is the money," Gracie said. "These hick druggists are all the same. Slide them the greenbacks, and they don't care if Donald Duck signed the script." She cackled at her joke. "What you thing? Two or three cc's"

  "Well, you're the nurse, not me, but I'd say go ahead and give him three. Hell, if two is good, three gotta be better. The mark I was t
elling you 'bout ought to be here within the hour. She was real anxious to have her fortune read once I told her about idiot here. Three cc's ought to have him just about right by the time she shows up. Seems like it takes a little more for him to be really accurate."

  "You fool, you really think he sees the future, don't you?" Gracie asked as she pulled the amber liquid from the vial.

  "Yeah, I do; least some of the times," Grunt replied defensively. "How 'bout the time he predicted the stock market would fall by thirty points?"

  "Hell Grunt, we made that up out of the nonsense he said while he was in his spell. It was pure luck, and you know it."

  Gracie walked over to the dwarf and jammed the syringe through his blue jeans into his buttocks. Elliot's scream sounded like a cat caught in a car's fan belt after snoozing on the warm engine and would have melted most people's hearts. Grunt's only reaction was to stuff a soiled, rolled up sock into the gaping mouth to stifle the sound.

  "Did you wash his other outfit?" He asked as he pulled Elliot's hands down to his sides to keep them away from the sock.

  "It's not that dirty. It'll do. If he soils it again, I'll wash it tomorrow. Who did you say was coming, and how much are they willing to pay?"

  "Her name is Nannie Smotherman. Her husband owns the hardware store and a couple of other businesses in the area. I figure we can soak enough from her to blow this joint. She's real gullible; like most of these