Nathan Grundy’s Bloodline
by Catherine J. Link
|
Table of Contents parts: 1, 2, 3, 4 |
part 3
Nathan didn’t get back home until dark. After grabbing a beer and downing half of it, he went to the back of the trailer and opened a closet door. Earlier, he had thrown down few threadbare blankets and laid the fawn on them to keep her warm while he went to town. He picked the fawn up in his arms.
“It’s a good thing you’re so small, ’cause I’m starving. But you’re hardly big enough for a sandwich, damn it all, and I am partial to venison.”
The fawn struggled and let out cries of distress.
“That’s good. You keep crying out like that and I am going to have my pick of does right outside that door.”
Before his visit to Maddy and Dr. Thompson, Nathan had gone to the grocery store and bought goat milk, powdered baby cereal, and baby bottles. He put the fawn on the floor, and it scampered away from him on wobbly legs. Nathan laughed at the unsteady fawn, then went about warming the milk and pouring it in the bottles, then spooning in a little cereal. He shook it up, making sure that the hot milk could spurt out of the bottle without plugging the nipple.
“You’re gonna like this.” He found the fawn hiding in a dark corner. He carried it to his recliner and sat down, standing the fawn between his legs. Beneath it was another old blanket to catch urine. Nathan knew from experience that fawns pee when they nurse.
He offered the nipple. The fawn resisted briefly, but the smell of milk soon won her over and she sucked greedily. Nathan moved the bottle rhythmically while the fawn sucked, imitating the natural movement of the mother.
“As you can tell, little girl, this is not my first rodeo. I’ve found a few orphans in my time. It never ends well, I hate to tell you. You need to be afraid of people, and this is going to ruin that.”
While the fawn nursed, Nathan watched the news on a small television.
Congressional hearings regarding the president and possible obstruction of justice charges had been ongoing, and footage of today’s more dramatic moments was being shown.
“Bunch of assholes in D.C. Not one of them knows what the hell they’re doing. Career politicians stealing money from the people to finance their re-election campaigns. To hell with you all!”
The fawn was startled by the shouting. She let go of the bottle and struggled to get free.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s all right. Don’t take on so.”
He calmed the fawn and got her back on the nipple. “You are sure sucking this down fast.”
He went back into the kitchen to make another bottle, and the fawn followed him.
“Yeah, I’m the man with the food. You’re starting to like me now. Maybe I can get you into a petting zoo. I hate to tell you this, little girl: you won’t be able to stay in the woods anymore.”
By the time he sat back down in the recliner and got the fawn on the bottle again, the local news was broadcasting.
“There is not much going on in this town.”
When the fawn had eaten her fill, Nathan took the bottle to the sink. The fawn followed him on wobbly legs.
“I guess I ought to put you out in the shed. But the door doesn’t shut tight, and something might get in after you. I’m gonna fix that tomorrow, but you’ll sleep inside tonight.”
Suddenly, something on the television caught Nathan’s attention. The anchorwoman was talking about an upcoming local event.
“The annual Griffin vintage car and truck show starts tomorrow. This event features vintage vehicles from across the state. One of the founders of the show is with us. He will be showing his 1955 Chevy Truck.”
The screen was filled with an old man wearing a pair of blue jean overalls and a raggedy straw hat.
“Tell us about your truck, Mr. Fredricks,” the local reporter said.
“I bought her when I turned thirty,” the old man said. “I’d worked hard for two years to save up enough money to buy a truck for my hauling business. I got her brand-new.”
“You sure have taken good care of her over the years. I bet you don’t do any hauling in her anymore.”
“No, not no more.”
“The city of Griffin is inviting everyone to come down and see the show, and have a free slice of cake, watermelon, or maybe cookies from Lena Cob’s bakery.”
“Yes, ma’am, that sounds good to me,” Nathan shouted. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Mr. Fredricks!”
* * *
“What the hell is so important that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” the whiny little bald man asked, sliding into the booth across from Dr. Russell Thompson.
He was a short, thin man who had a habit of dressing in mismatched colors, which made him look comical. Today he was wearing a pair of red pants and a green checked shirt under a light cotton jacket.
“What the hell are you wearing, Harvey?” Russell asked him. “You look like a garden gnome trying to imitate Don Johnson.”
“We’ve known each other for twelve years. How many times do I have to tell you I’m color blind?”
“I don’t ever remember you telling me that, and I know you never tell me where you get the organs,” Russell said angrily.
“Don’t give me that crap. You never wanted to know nothing about what I do. You only started asking this last time with the kidney guy. It went badly and you’re taking it out on me.”
“I wouldn’t say it went badly, but some interesting things have happened. I need you to get me another organ from that same source. I have a theory, and it could be a game-changer.”
“Okay. What shall it be? A liver, heart, or another kidney?” Harvey asked sarcastically. “You ask too much, Russell. I’m not God, ya know.”
“Can I get you guys something?” a pretty, middle-aged waitress put down menus and glasses of water.
“Just coffee,” Russell said.
“I’ll have a cheeseburger plate,” Harvey said. He looked the waitress up and down boldly, then stroked her arm. “We’ll take about dessert later, honey.”
“How do you get away with that kind of behavior?” Russell asked, when the waitress walked away.
“I pick my targets. The middle-aged ones are desperate for attention. They’re competing with younger babes, and they’re not like this ridiculous snowflake generation. They know the value of a man who is willing to please.”
“Harvey, you’ve been married for twenty years. If you ever stepped out, Deb would hang your balls over the mantlepiece.”
“I’m still willing. The problem with you, Russell is that you are a buzz kill.”
“Get me another kidney. I’ll settle for a heart or liver, but it’s got to be the same source.”
“Are you talking about the location, or the exact person when you say ‘source’?” Harvey asked, giving Russell a serious look. “Exactly what are you asking me to do?”
“I’m desperate. My patient is literally morphing into something I’ve never seen before. Something about that kidney transplant affected his genetic makeup.”
“If you win the Nobel prize, do I get a cut for being your organ pimp?”
“You are a class act, Harvey. Where do you do your pimping?”
“I’ve told you before, Russell. I have connections in a few countries. When there’s been an accident, my guys approach the relatives to buy what’s salvageable for some serious dough. It’s not legal in most places, so we have to be subtle. And, by the way, you are not my only customer. I have other Dr. Mengeles like you to keep happy.”
“Where did it come from?”
“Some no-name dung heap in South America. Are we done now?”
“You’re a pal,” Russell said. He slid out of the booth.
“Where you going? I thought you were picking up the tab. You invite, you pay. That’s civilized protocol.”
Russell threw down a hundred-dollar bill and walked away briskly.
“Another organ or consider the change your severance pay,” he called over his shoulder.
“That’s not what I’d call a golden parachute, you cheap bastard,” Harvey muttered.
* * *
“Well, look here,” Nathan said. He examined the old Chevy truck for dents in the front end.
The elderly man in the straw hat mistook Nathan’s interest for admiration. “She’s my pride,” the old man said. “I love her more than my wife.”
“No dents,” Nathan said, mostly to himself.
The old man came up holding out his hand, and Nathan took it, giving it a bone-crushing squeeze. The old man grimaced.
“Pardon me,” Nathan said. “I’m just getting over a bad accident. I’ve had some nerve damage, and sometimes I don’t know my own strength. You’re the man I saw on TV last night. Mr. Fredricks, was it?”
“Yeah, that’s me.” Getting a closeup look at this young man gave Fredricks a fright. His hair appeared to be thick and shaggy under a John Deere cap, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a while. Maybe it was those hairs visible at the cuffs of his sleeves, or the thick hair trying to crawl out from the opening of his shirt that was so unnerving. Or maybe it was the way he smelled. His body odor was strong, reminding him of the chain-link kennel he kept his brown Labs in, especially after a rain or on a muggy day.
Nathan was aware of the old man’s discomfort. Yeah, here I am. You recognize me, don’t you, you sonofabitch.
“How much does it cost to maintain a vehicle like this, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“It takes an investment, in money and time,” Fredricks said. “I don’t drive her all that much anymore.”
“No? Hell, I’d drive it all the time if I had a truck like this. It’s like a goddamn tank.”
“That’s for sure.”
“Hard to dent her up, huh?”
“She needs to be going pretty fast to put a dent in her. Hit a deer two weeks ago, and she got a small dent and a few scratches.”
“Yeah, you’re not talking about the deer, are you?”
“No, I’m surely not,” the old man said with a grin.
“Let me offer you a beer, Mr. Fredricks. We can throw back a couple while I pick your brain on these old vehicles. I’m thinking I might want to buy one and fix it up, like you did.”
“Well, all right. A cold one would be good. It’s damn hot today.”
“You are right about that.”
Nathan led the old man behind the Griffin Chamber of Commerce. “I’m parked back here in the shade. I’ve got a cooler full of Bud in the back of my truck.”
“There’s a bar just around the corner,” the old man said. He was getting nervous about this young man. He was friendly enough, but he was strange. “On second thought, it’s too early to start drinking. I don’t like to drink before evening.”
The old man was turning to go back to the fairgrounds when Nathan grabbed him by the arm, pulling him along roughly. “Now we both know that’s not the case, Mr. Fredricks, don’t we?”
Suddenly, Fredricks knew what was happening, and even worse, he knew why.
“You’re him, aren’t you?”
“If that’s your way of asking am I of the male persuasion, then yes I am,” Nathan said in a joking manner. Then his mood turned dangerous and his voice became deep and threatening. “But if you’re asking me if I’m the man that you hit and left for dead on the shoulder of Dobbins Hill Road six months ago, you’re goddamn right I am.”
“I’m sorry, mister. I had a kind of stroke that day, and I didn’t remember everything right off. When I did, it was too late, and I was afraid I’d be arrested for hit and run. I don’t drive no more ’cause of it. My son takes me around now.”
“A stroke? Or were you sipping the hair-of-the-dog, Mr. Fredricks? Drunk or sick, you should have stepped up, old man.”
“I can help with the medical bills,” Fredricks said, pleading. “I’ve got money.”
“This ain’t about money,” Nathan said, backing the old man up against a stone fence. “This is about doing the right thing.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”
“Now we both have something to be sorry for,” Nathan said. He grabbed the old man by the neck with both hands, shoving him up against the limestone fence. He squeezed and kept squeezing, taking pleasure in hearing the old man choke.
Fredricks fought back. He struck Nathan with his fists, punching him in the face and scratching at his eyes, and all the while Fredricks’ face reddened nearly to purple. Then his eyes lost focus, and all the fight went out of him. His flailing arms weakened, then hung limp. His dead body slid to the ground and Nathan backed away.
“You should have stepped up!” Nathan shouted, but within seconds his rage passed, leaving him feeling sick.
“Why didn’t you step up?” he said in a near whisper, and the reality of what he had done horrified him. His act of murder was deliberate. What the old man had done was an accident.
“Oh, no! Please don’t be dead,” Nathan pleaded, shaking the old man’s shoulder.
Hearing voices from somewhere nearby, Nathan turned and ran. He was in his truck and pulling out of the parking lot when he heard a man yell,
“Somebody call 911. There’s a dead old man back here.”
* * *
Copyright © 2018 by Catherine J. Link
