The thing to keep in mind, is that this is most definitely a work in progress. What that means is that something in the following scene may contradict something that was written in the prvious scene (which there most definitely is in regard to the dog). Comments are always welcome, even regarding inconsistencies, because it may be that there is a continuity problem I'm not aware of.
IV
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“What took so long?”
“I was delayed a bit. You all right?”
“I’m getting cold.”
“Yeah. I was worried about that.”
“Let’s go back.”
“Hold on.”
Ben re-tucked the blanket so that it fit more snuggly around Ron.
“That better?”
“Yes, but my legs are still real cold.”
The inability to control body temperature was one of those other issues that Ben did not take lightly. It wasn’t a matter of just telling Ron to suck it up till they got back to the van. He knew that the discomfort became very real, that shivering could become uncontrollable and that even hypothermia could set in. Ben looked down toward where they left the van and contemplated running down to get the vehicle and meeting Ron back up there. He quickly dismissed that as a very poor option for several reasons, the main one being that he didn’t want to leave Ron alone. It may have been Ron who had led the way up here but Ben blamed himself; he was the caregiver and it was his job to do just that. He walked to the rear of the wheelchair and slipped the skeletal hand out of his coat and into the rear bag of the wheel chair. He thought of doing the same with the gun that he had placed in his other coat pocket but thought better of it, not liking the idea of a loaded gun bouncing around directly behind Ron’s back, even if the safety was on.
“Ready?”
“One sec.”
“What are you doing back there?”
“Taking my jacket off.”
“Taking my jacket off.”
It was a poor second alternative, but he didn’t feel he had any choice as he tucked the revolver into the back of his pants and pulled his shirt out to hang over the protruding handle.
“Okay.”
“What?”
“I’m going to cover your legs with my coat.”
“Don’t you need it?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Thanks.”
He tucked the body of the jacket under Ron’s thighs and tied the arms of the coat around his calves.
“Better?”
“A little.”
“Let’s go.”
The gearing of the chair was such that it didn’t matter if it was going uphill or downhill, the speed remained constant. It was the one time that Ben cursed the well-designed chair that made for safe travel and wished they could take advantage of the descent and move more quickly.
“So, what was it?” Ron asked.
“What was what?”
“The shiny dangling thing. Was it a chain?”
“A fishing lure.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“Anything special about it?”
“Maybe.”
“Did it look homemade?”
“I don’t know. I don’t fish.”
“You eat fish, don’t you?
“Yes. So?”
“Yes. So?”
“Seems to me if you eat fish you should also fish.”
“That makes no sense at all.”
“Where is it?”
“In the coat pocket.”
“Oh.”
Talking was good as it made it easier for Ben to gauge Ron’s state of being. Nonsense could be another matter. Bringing up the fishing lure sent Ben’s thoughts back to their long stroll up the hill to the spot where they had stopped, to where Ron decided to gaze over the guardrail, catch sight of something bright and insist that he go down. A coincidence? Certainly Ron couldn’t have known that the lure was there, not after ten months. But, go down for what? To discover a body that he would have missed if it weren’t for the dog? That didn’t make any sense.
Ben watched Ron as they walked, interpreting all the familiar nuances of his face anew, wondering if its features were trying to tell him something that he had missed these past ten months. Just then, the dog wandered back into view, crossing in front of the chair and causing Ron to let up on the joystick. Ben found himself questioning even the dog’s presence and knew he was now letting his imagination run a bit too wild.
“He’s still here?
“Yes. He followed me down.”
“Yes. He followed me down.”
“I saw. I think he likes you.”
“You think?”
“Sure. I think you should take him home.”
“Take him home?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“Yeah. He would be good for you.”
“What am I going to do with a dog?”
“You do what most people do.”
“And, what’s that?”
“Companionship.”
“Who said I needed companionship?”
“Of course you need it. We all need it.”
“Well, I already have it.”
“What? That useless bird?”
“Molly’s not useless.”
“All she does is crap on the floor.”
“That’s my problem.”
“Yeah, but my floor.”
Ben was used to moods of irritability which led to uncalled for comments but that last remark took him aback. Ron had paid him well, provided free lodging in his guest house and even use of a car. Ben always felt welcomed and appreciated and, in their short time together, their bond had grown very strong and Ron never held all the very generous benefits over his head. The cold can do mysterious things, make one act in uncharacteristic ways, Ben thought.
“I’m really cold.”
“Almost there.”
“You want to go ahead and warm up the van?”
“No. Just our luck but a car will come by while you’re on the bridge and sideswipe you.”
“Yeah. Wouldn’t that be funny?”
“Real funny.”
As they came to the bridge, Ben looked back up to the spot where they had traveled. How long would that take by bike to reach the bridge? A quarter of a mile at, what, twenty-five, thirty miles an hour? Thirty seconds or so. Five minutes by wheelchair. Ben reached behind his back, feeling the bulge and reassuring himself that it hadn’t somehow fallen out without his knowledge. He looked at the bag and wondered if the hand had survived the ride down intact or if he would find a collection of fragments at the bottom of the bag.
“You know, the dog could also keep Molly company when you’re not home.”
Ben chuckled but then thought that that actually seemed to have merit. He looked at the pooch who was down in the creek bed.
“I don’t know.”
Off the bridge and back on the dirt road.
“Ben.”
“What?”
“Could you finish steering?”
“Sure.”
Ben took over the joystick and drove the remainder of the way to the van.
“You all right?”
“I’m pretty tired.”
“We’ll be on our way soon.”
He parked the chair by the side of the van and moved quickly to get in the driver’s seat, start the van, lower the ramp, turn the heat to full and hustle back to Ron. Guiding the chair up the ramp while standing off to the side was always a bit tricky but he managed to get him up without a hitch.
“Hey, look at that,” Ron said, once he was in the van.
“What?”
“We have company.”
Ben poked his head in and the dog was lying on the backseat giving them his most beguiling look.
“You have to take him home now.”
“He might belong to someone.”
“Look how skinny he is. He doesn’t belong to anyone. And, if he does, they aren’t taking very good care of him.”
Ben continued staring at the mutt which seemed to know its fate was being contemplated and gave his tail a few mournful wags which thumped against the leather bench seat.
“Come on. Strap me in. I want to get home.”
Ben finished the process of securing Ron and then pulled out the gun and found a secure place for it in a pocket in the rear of the van. He eyed the bag hanging down on the rear of the wheelchair but decided to wait and retrieve the hand when they were back at the house. Back in the driver’s seat, he kept a watchful eye on the dog as he raised the ramp to make sure he didn’t suddenly leap out and get trapped; any thoughts of a last minute escape seemed to be the furthest thing from his mind as he continued to lie contentedly on the seat.
Across the bridge and back up the road, the inside of the van was quickly warming.
“Better?” Ben asked.
“Getting there.”
They approached the overlook curve and Ben brought the van to a stop, glancing down toward the tangle of trees and the creek.
“Everything all right?”
“Yeah. Just looking at the bluff.”
He moved on, leaving the valley and bridge to disappear as they rounded the curve which would lead them to the other side of the small mountain.
“I think you should name him Max.”
“Max.”
“Yes. Goes well with Molly. Molly and Max.”
“Max and Molly.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe.”
With that Ron quickly fell asleep and they finished their ride home in silence.
Copyright © 2012 Philip Zweig
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