Geraldo by Abby Moran (best historical fiction books of all time .txt) 📖

Chapter 11

He kept driving with this serious look on his face and was persistent on ignoring me. I threw up three times before we got home, then I passed out. I woke up in my bed and right beside me sitting in a chair was Mike. That disappointed, serious look was still plastered on his face. “Morning Jim.”

“Morning.”

“Do you understand what happened last night?”

“Yes.”

“And I’m assuming I don’t really need to go into details about why I’m upset?”

“Well I mean now that you mention it……”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What do you mean?”

“When I woke up from my comma why didn’t you tell me Geraldo died too?”

“I just….I don’t know…I couldn’t think of a good time.”

“Well now seems like a pretty good time.”

“Geraldo was murdered by someone. We don’t know who. They dropped the case.”

“They DROPPED it?! Since when?”

“Recently…..I’m really sorry Mike.”

He stood quickly and started pacing while murmuring something that sounded like son of a bitch but it was kind of hard to make sense of it. He was biting his nails like I usually end up doing out of the two of us and his pacing started to slow down.

“Were there witnesses?”

“…….”

“WERE THERE WITNESSES?”

“No.”

“Then I guess there isn’t much I can do but investigate myself.”

He grabbed his coat and stormed out. I knew exactly where he was heading; the lake where Geraldo was killed. Luckily I was quick enough to catch up with him and take the passenger seat. At first he told me to get out but I told him I wanted to help him solve this so he couldn’t just nudge off help. It was cold outside and it didn’t help I had the jitters about being back in our hometown where police were looking for us. I shook in my seat and twiddled my thumbs while Mike drove highly concentrated on the gas pedal to get there as fast as he could. I thought I saw a policeman at one point and ducked but it was just a citizen trying to cross the street.

I had never actually seen Mike like this ever. When he was crazy before the coma he was just….well crazy but now I don’t see crazy in his eyes, I see determination. His determination could not be broken under any circumstances, this I could see. We drove for what seemed like hours until we reached the spot that Geraldo was killed; the lake.

“What do you really expect to find here?”

“Evidence.”

“After all this time? Surely you must understand that whatever was left behind is probably long gone.”

“Yes but I think I could at least find something of relevance.”

“Don’t you think we should maybe…I don’t know do some interviewing first?”

“Why do that first when we can find evidence to back them up?”

I just nodded and continued on to the sight to pointlessly look around with Mike. We were careful not to speak each other’s names. I walked around aimlessly with him for the ridiculous motives of Mike. Sometimes I just didn’t know about him.

I watched also as Mike looked around with him arms in his pockets and an expressionless face. He nodded a couple times for reasons I had no notion of. He would squat like he’d seen on those television crime shows. What those television shows don’t show would happen next though. He thought really hard after not seeing any evidence and then motioned me to the car to talk in private. I couldn’t believe this was actually going to happen and to be honestly I wasn’t entirely sure that this wouldn’t put us more in trouble with the law than we already were and that in itself would be quite the trick considering we are wanted already for a list that stretches a mile long.

Mike had decided we needed to look at Geraldo’s deceased body and take pictures of his death wounds. Personally, I figured the police would find us at a public place like a morgue that had security. I guess though Mike had thought of all the explanations. He wanted to kidnap someone to do that for us. You’d think a man ALREADY fleeing from the police wouldn’t want to anything else to piss them off more. I guess Mike isn’t most criminals.

“It has to be someone who can’t get away from us. Someone who isn’t strong...”
“Mike, you aren’t suggesting a kid; are you?”
“Well no Jim not a kid but maybe just someone weaker.”
“Why go through the trouble?”
“Well I figure that trouble is now attracted to us and if that’s the case we might as well keep a reputation.”
“I don’t even want a reputation! This is your entire fault! If you hadn’t gone and killed May none of this would have happened in the first place!”
Mike sighed in disgust but he even knew that we were in this together no matter what I had to say about it because the truth was it was my fault too for leaving him and then sheltering him. I had to stay with him now.

We just happened upon a weaker man with a camera making a wish into the lake. The lake was primarily used to make peace, oh the irony. He kissed a penny he held in his shaking hands then tossed it. As he did so, I watched as Mike grabbed him and carried him back towards us. We ran until we were behind a bush.

“We don’t want to hurt you.” Yes this is how I start things and then came Mike...
“But if you don’t cooperate we will!”

The man just nodded along frightened as we told him we needed him to go into the morgue and say that he was “paying his respects to his little neighbor Geraldo”. Then ask the officials to leave so he could say good bye in peace and take photographs of everything he could find on the body. It seemed like something straight forward, but we had to explain it many times to this poor old man. He agreed upon the terms (usually people do when it’s life or death situations) and walked over to the nearby morgue where little Geraldo lay. He walked up to the tall gates and told his name.

“I’m Michael Bridgestone.”

“State your business”

“I was the neighbor of Geraldo Bunsen and I’ve come to pay my respects.”

“That day to pay respects was a long time ago now. Good Day.”

“Please wait! I just have to……I was…..I was chronically ill for those days please let me in.”

There was a pause, a sigh and then clicking of locks unlocking the door. We watched as he stepped closer in where, just as we suspected, an escort was waiting for him. He seemed brawny and tough; he was at least six feet tall. Then we watched as they slowly drifted into the darkness of the morgue itself. The door shut and shortly after the gate shut tightly. Now we had to wait.

Why does the bad luck always fall to me? I mean here I am just trying to get my good luck wish in when I’m being told to do something for someone I don’t even know pertaining to the morgue. What business has HE? And you know I could’ve probably not done this. I probably could’ve walked over there and told them I was being threatened. They’re guards they could’ve helped me right? But no, me, being my foolish self-had to get involved.  As I stood there shaking and watching the rattling gate open I just told myself this was never a good idea.  The guard told me that I could enter if I was escorted by none other than himself. He’d have his partner on duty outside to keep watch. 

Inside the morgue was a pretty simple design. The room was divided in half. On the left side was an operations table and some tools which assumedly is where autopsies would be conducted I hoped.  On the right were shelves upon shelves of different draws-the draws of the dead folk being preserved. It was freezing and smelt like rotting fish with some twists.  I gulped as the guard shoved me closer to the shelves where this “Geraldo” was.  

My legs were shaking vigorously along with my old withering hands. The guard took from his belt the large key ring which held millions of keys and one by one went through them. I watched intensely as he grabbed key 452 and put it in the slot of draw 452 and open the draw which contained a small little boy. Was this Geraldo? A little boy? What could he have possibly died from? I thought this to myself but didn’t mutter any of it to the guards. “Might I pay my respects in private? I’d like to say a blessing and a few words.” I tried to say without trembling.   

He left. I held in my tears.

“Oh bless you boy, you sweet innocent soul. What devilish fiend has taken you? Bless your father, your mother, your family, your beautiful sweet innocent soul.” I whispered delicately as I stared at his pale skin and bloodied neck.  I looked down at my camera that I brought, that soon would what I knew god would consider a sin. Would he though? I have no placement to really know. Either way, I apologized to god for my sinning and took pictures of this tattered boy resting on a steel slab. Never did my fingers burn as much as they did that moment clicking the little button on my Polaroid.

By this time, If I hadn’t done this, I could’ve already been home eating supper at the dining room