Unlucky Number 10 and The Call by Brian Hesse (mini ebook reader TXT) 📖

Busy Morning

You will not find a single brochure or Internet travel site beckoning people to vacation in the city of Andreas, Pennsylvania. In fact, if some very bored individual, still living in their parent’s basement, were to design one, it may look and read something like this.

Welcome to the city of Andreas! Take a romantic stroll down Pasture Lane, a scenic two-mile stretch of road that runs through the center of town. In fact, this is the only street in town. Smell the romantic scent of cow shit and fertilizer, a sure aphrodisiac to arouse the sexual senses of that beauty on your arm. Don’t forget to visit our one and only first class “one boutique,” Mandy’s Grocery, the only place to buy gas, groceries, and guns all in one stop.

What any hapless vacationer suckered into such a vacation spot would not see on the brochure is the single beautiful rose that has grown and matured among all the cow crap and fertilizer mist. That single rose had a name, Becky Marlow.

Becky Marlow is an 18-year-old senior at the Henry Clay High School in Jim Thorpe, another small town just two miles away from her home in Andreas. Becky is well within the acceptable range to be eligible to take the bus to school, however, she decided to walk since she was a freshman. What else would you expect from an All-Star track and field rising star? Becky runs the 800 meter in less than one minute and fifty seconds, but track and field is not her passion. She has played violin for 12 years now and recently received a scholarship to one of the best conservatories in the country, The Berkley College of Music. Apart from athleticism and smarts, Becky is more than pleasing to the eyes, with long free flowing jet back hair, high cheekbones, and a smile that could melt the hardest of hearts and make a person feel bright even on the cloudiest of days. Becky certainly has this effect on her biggest fan and supporter, her father, Big Jack Marlow. He is nicknamed “Big Jack” because he is a massive specimen of a man. He is six foot seven inches, 250 pounds of solid muscle and possesses true American frontiersman grit. Jack works in a lumber mill and still preferes to use the ax over the “creature.” The creature is a large crane designed to cut trees at the push of a few buttons and manipulation of a series of levers.

“Men grow soft with technology,” Jack is known to exclaim when pressured by his boss, Ed Larson, to cut down more trees. This is as far as anyone dares to go on pressuring Big Jack. Despite his physical enormity, he possesses black piercing eyes that warn the observer to think before speaking, but not with his beautiful daughter Becky Marlow. Those hard-dark eyes water as he thinks about how his little flower has sprouted from an awkward tomboy into a beautiful rose. Why shouldn't I be protective, he thought to himself, I raised Becky alone after her Mother died in a car accident when she was at that tender age of just one years old.

Today is Saturday and time for Becky to walk to her weekend job at Mandy’s Grocery store. She normally gives her father a big hug and kiss before leaving for work but her father was not at home. This morning’s absence was not that unusual. Jack was known to show up at work two hours early to stretch his muscles and prepare for the day.

 I am running so late, thought Becky as she ran throughout the small house gathering her red and white apron with Mandy's Grocery emblazened on the front.

"No time for breakfast!" she exclaimed, stopping for just one second to look at her tiger stripped cat, Mr. Snickerdoodles.

 She ran in circles around her two-bedroom trailer making sure that all appliances were unplugged and all lights were out. Big Jack always instilled in Becky the need to love and respect nature. Her father's deep raspy voice traveled through Becky's mind stopping her in her tracks. "Remember, baby girl, turning off a light is saving a tree!"

Becky continued her frantic dance after exclaiming to the empty kitchen, "Got it Daddy, save the trees!" Becky let out a little laugh as she fed her cat, Mr. Snickerdoodles.

 “Here you go Mr. Snickerdoodles, have a good day”, she exclaimed as she poured out some Purina cat chow and headed out the front door.

When Becky reached the edge of Pasture Lane she decided to call her Dad.

“Hi Daddy, how is your day so far?”

“Hohhot…..whhhonder…. wonderful baby. jus.... jus.... just working here.”

“Wow, you're really out of breath. I will call later. love you Daddy."

Just two minutes before Becky made it to the side of the road, Eric Drew made a right turn from Tree Street onto Pasture Lane. Everyone from the surrounding area knows that the speed limit on Pasture Lane is 55 miles an hour. Even a self-proclaimed rebel without a clue like Eric Drew obeyed the speed limit in this stretch of the woods. When you are pulled over by a cop out here in cow country you better be wearing a suit, have a bible on the front seat, and listening to some gospel on the radio, or Christian Rock at the least. Eric Drew was not prepared to get pulled over. He is a 25-year-old ex-convict on parole. Eric is one of those guys who would break into your home, smoke a rock of crack-cocaine, eat all the food in your kitchen, and fall asleep on your couch. In fact, this is exactly what he did, landing him an unpleasant stay at Greater Ford State prison for a five year stretch.

Greater Ford was not kind to Eric. His first night in prison, Martin Hicks, a lifer in for rape and murder, paid a visit to Eric’s cell. It took twenty stitches to sew up Eric's ass until it finally resembled somewhat of a normal shape. Today, he is obeying the speed limit and attempting his half-ass impression of a decent law abiding citizen. However, speed is not the only killer on the roadway. Death has a tool bag full of distractions for people already susceptible to bad luck, or stupid decisions. Craving a smoke, Eric lights up a cigarette and places his lighter on the dashboard directly in front of him.                        

He stares at the lighter with mixed feelings of anger and sadness because it is the only present he ever received from his abusive alcoholic father. He stares at the lighter with the skull and crossbones emblem and the motto “Live Free and Die Hard” written across the top in blood red letters, realizing it is the only link between himself and a dead father he both loved and hated with every fiber of his being. Eric thought about the man who drank himself into a coma one night after giving his hapless son the lighter, his only memento from his days in a local biker gang. Eric opened the window to feel the breeze in his black greasy hair and pockmarked cratered skin.

Eric thought to himself with an ounce of hope, I'm getting out of this town and starting my life over. I'm going to be a rock star, and nothing is getting in my way.

Just as he slipped into his usual daydream of playing electric guitar in front of millions of adoring fans, the hot red ash was blown off the end of his cigarette and landed in his lap. Taking his hands off the wheel, the car swerved ever so slightly, just enough to knock the lighter off the dashboard and onto the car's dirty floor. He bent down to pick up the lighter as if it would fall into some black hole on the floor of the car, never to be found again.

Eric the rebel who will never shit right again for the rest of his life. Eric the abused and unwanted child of a monster. Eric, the guy who took his eyes off the road for one split second.

Fate Intervenes

By the time, Becky realized that she was standing six inches over the white line on the side of the road, it was too late. The impact sounded with a loud but muffled…. Thump. Becky immediately had both kneecaps separated from the patella and tibia bones. in fact, one kneecap completely turned around in the opposite direction. After the car hit Becky in the knees her body bent immediately forcing her head to smash into the windshield. The windshield spider-webbed and her head split wide open from the center of her forehead to the top center of her scalp. After being thrown ten feet into the air, the beautiful rose of Andreas, Pennsylvania, the apple of her father’s eye, lay dead on the road with three shattered cervical, six thoracic, and four lumbar vertebrae.

Eric immediately realized what he did. Like many people trained by violence and hatred to only think of self-preservation, Eric began to concoct a story. I only took my eyes off the road for a second, he thought to himself. This bitch is obviously dead, no reason for me to go to jail. With my record, they will put me right back into that Gladiator Academy. He remembered his nights screaming as inmates took their turns using him as a human toilet. Not even one night of a kind word or romantic affection. Years of being raped and beaten is what is waiting for me, he thought, with a fear he has not felt since waiting for his Father to come home drunk and looking to fight.

Eric did as would be expected of him. He failed to mention the lighter, the cigarette ash, or taking his eyes off the road.

 “Officer, she was standing too close to the side of the road. I didn't think she would just walk right out. Maybe she wanted to die?"

After a quick investigation, the determination of the Pennsylvania State Police was that the death was a horrible accident and the driver was not at fault. Eric could not be more elated. 

. “Fuck Yea baby, I squeezed out of that one!" exclaimed Eric, as he narrated his story to his friends at the local bar.

Without another thought for the killing of quite possibly the sweetest young girl on the planet, Eric, the rebel without a care, continued with his life. Eric never considered what Becky was doing just before he destroyed her small beautiful body and sharp talented young mind....

Just Before Her Death

When Becky hung up the phone to let her Daddy get back to work, and just before being killed, Big Jack continued chopping and chopping with that trusty silver ax. With each swing pieces of limbs were scattered before him. With each chop of his ax, Jack would yell…. “Timber…Timber.” Now his work for the day was finished. Looking down at the bloody pieces of his latest victim he felt such relief, relief because each time he sunk that ax into soft flesh, he felt a shockwave through every nerve in his body.

"A full body orgasm!" he exclaimed to the lump of flesh before him.

 “I think tonight I will take my baby girl shopping,” Jack stated with a tone filled with softness and affection to the lifeless pieces before him. She will be leaving me soon, he thought, as a tear began to form in one of his dark piercing eyes.

 Two months after the tragic death of Becky Marlow, the dismembered body of Eric Drew was discovered in an abandoned field. Eric was the tenth victim of the serial killer known as “The Lumberjack.”

End

The Call

You may find it strange to believe but I was just like you one sunny