Working With Cedar: The Early Years, page 16
James said, “That’d be a longish excursion. Look at what happened to Nash and Burt last night on the road. Lot of danger out there, but danger is what we have. How long will the fuels on hand last?” he asked, directing his question to Sam.
“At the rate we’re going through it, refueling Burt and your trucks, maybe a week, if that.”
James said, “That’s about what I thought. I reckon we need to go for those tankers right soon and hope they’re ours for the taking. I’m not willing to kill to take what’s not ours.”
Bobby stood from his chair. “I need the bathroom.”
Glenda stood and said, “Use the hall bath. In fact, let’s all take a break. Ladies, we’ll use the facilities in the master bedroom.”
Nash watched Betty follow Glenda and Sandra from the dining room. Not feeling the need for a restroom, he decided to pass through the kitchen door onto the back porch just to stretch and relieve that knots of tension his body felt.
Leaning on the porch rail to stretch his hamstrings, gazing into the pine trees behind the house he saw—.”
Tennessee, 2068. Torrie opened the front door and he saw Jess come through. “Son I didn’t know—.”
“That’s not Jess,” Betty shrieked.
Jess pulled a rifle hidden by his long overcoat.
Georgia, 2023: Nash’s knees folded, hitting the boards of the porch. He felt the bullet enter his heart.
Tennessee, 2068: “No! I’m not there. I’m in Tennessee. Not ‘my’ heart! Betty’s shriek causes the man wearing Jess’s face to divert the barrel from me. He shot Betty’s heart. Little Billie jumps in front of me. Another shot fired, and another and another. Billie turns to face me, wraps his arms around me. His chest is bloody and warm. More shots fired as I topple backwards with Billie still clinging.
Georgia, 2023: It is my heart! No! I’m not there. I’m in Tennessee.
Tennessee, 2068: Break from the dream. Lord, my chest hurts like I was shot. I can’t draw a breath, I hear Alice cry out as she shakes my shoulder, “Wake up, Nash. Please wake up.”
I am awake, but I can’t speak. Pain wraps my entire being in a knot around my heart. I feel a fading, as though a slipping away. The pain lessens, and now I’m floating in darkness. A moment that seems eternally long and my eyes open. On the bed below, I look down on myself, old and wasted. Self-sympathy for the me lying there, pours.
The bedroom door opens and people flood in. Torrie, my Torrie, nurse trained by my Betty, bends over me.
“He’s having a heart attack. Penny, as I taught you, pump his heart to my rhythm.” Torrie bends to press her lips to mine… breathing for me.
I hear a whisper, my name called softly by a voice so known. Floating on air, I roll over to stare again into darkness. A grey circle forms, brightens, and widens. My Betty, young and beautiful stands in the light of a blue sky behind her.
“Nash.” She extends her hand. I reach, but again my heart is shot. A force rolls me over and there I am, face bulging and turning blue.
Torrie shouts, “Again.”
Penny swings her arm to hit my chest. I see my blue-bloated face contort in agony.
“Again,” Torrie shouts, but the other force rolls me and the blow is unfelt. The fading light of the circle regains brilliance. My hand clasps Betty’s reaching hand and I step forward, leaving the used up me behind in darkness.
**********
Tennessee, 2068
Despite old man Parsons prediction, rain drenches the array of cedar boxes and the people who came to respect their contents.
Alice stands on a raised platform in front of the open graves.
“They will not be forgotten. Let me repeat. We will not allow them to pass without remembrance. They are the best part of our history. They are the reason we can gather here with full bellies and warm homes awaiting us.
“Paper: Precious paper and pencils you will take from here and you will write everything you know about them, every deed they did and every word you can remember them uttering.
“These people will live forever in our hearts and our children and children’s children will know them from written history.
“Go home with joy in your hearts with the knowledge that happiness and joy is what they want you to feel.”
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To my cherished readers, I will return to the story, told by the survivors Nash and Betty left behind. My email address is
workquick4u@yahoo.com
If you desire, please email, and I will alert you of the final chapter the very moment it becomes available on Amazon.
Terry McDonald
McDonald, Terry, Working With Cedar: The Early Years
