Revision of Justice by Wilson John Morgan

Author:Wilson, John Morgan [Wilson, John Morgan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Gay & Lesbian
ISBN: 9781602820586
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2008-09-01T06:00:00+00:00

*

When my high beams hit the white mailbox, I slowed and turned into the drive.

I rolled the Mustang slowly under the heavy canopy of leaves, listening. I heard nothing except the crunch of gravel beneath the tires.

Then I was in the clearing at the end, facing the ramshackle garage with the rusty gas pump next to it. To my left was the old house. A porch light was on above the steps. Another light burned inside, on the lower floor.

I shut off the ignition and climbed out.

“Mrs. Fairbridge?”

Then I noticed the bottles. The prettiest ones still lined the window ledges inside the house, but those along the porch and railings were gone. The shopping cart, filled to capacity, had been pushed across the small clearing and sat in a narrow grassy space between the dilapidated garage and the antique gas pump.

“Mrs. Fairbridge?”

I remained still for several seconds, listening for her voice. What I heard instead was a solid thunk on the back of my skull that was followed by a roar of pain.

I turned, raising my arms. Constance Fairbridge was at the other end of her ax handle, bringing it down for another blow. I snatched it from her brittle fingers.

“Mrs. Fairbridge!”

Her eyes were all rage and fear, without a sign of recognition or reason.

“Thief! Devil!”

She was backing toward the house, keeping her wild eyes on me. Brambles, leaves, and twigs covered her heavy coat; dried mud caked her running shoes. Her hair was a tangled, filthy mess.

“It’s me, Benjamin Justice.”

“There is no justice but the Lord’s!”

I felt the back of my head. There was no blood that I could find, but a bump was rising fast. My neck felt stiff; my head throbbed.

“Let me talk to you, Mrs. Fairbridge. We’ll talk about the silent movies.”

She was up the steps, on the porch.

“Go away!”

“Constance Fairbridge, star of stage and screen. Remember saying that to me yesterday, when I came to visit?”

She raised her voice to a shriek; the power behind it amazed me.

“Sodomites! Whores! Murderers!”

I watched her creep along the porch toward the front of the house, pointing a skinny finger at me.

“Go and repent while time remains!”

“I’m going, Mrs. Fairbridge.”

“The cities must be destroyed!”

I placed the ax handle at the foot of the steps, climbed into the Mustang, and backed it down the drive. Back through the dark zone beneath the oaks. Back to the road, to the city.

Away from the woman named Constance Fairbridge, who now dwelled in a frightening world created by her own troubled mind, where I clearly wasn’t welcome.

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