The Circumstantial Man by Reilly Gary

Author:Reilly, Gary
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Running Meter Press
Published: 2018-04-06T00:00:00+00:00

Four

By the time I came to consciousness, the entire woods was lit like a fairyland. Spinning red lights flashed against the trees. Headlights illuminated the ground. Cops were everywhere. Two medics were leaning over me. Voices buzzed. They did not speak English. They simply spoke. I could not make out the words. My cognitive powers had been depleted by the sum total of everything that had occurred since the moment my car had failed to start.

“How is he?”

That I did comprehend. It was a cop voice. Hard. It brought my cognitive powers together as a team. I started to function, beginning with my hearing and traveling down to my feet.

“He has bruises but there doesn’t appear to be any serious wounds.”

My shirt had been opened by a medic, my pulse taken. I was a Xerox of Morton on Hawthorne, minus the blood. I wanted them to place me on a stretcher, drive me away from this hell, and place me in a white, antiseptic room at County Heaven where Angels of Mercy would hover about me with gossamer wings, where prescription drugs would be stacked like cannonballs at my bedside.

“He appears to have fainted.”

A confirmation of what the cops, with their drawn pistols, no doubt had surmised.

“Sir, are you able to stand up?”

I was gazing at the star path. I decided not to play possum. After all, how many years could I get away with such a ploy? Not enough.

“Yes,” I whispered. I made to sit up on my own, but they helped me. Men in white, men with badges, I was surrounded by authority figures. Too late of course. Where were my protectors when Benny was engaging in his terrifying mind-games? I glanced at the grave as I arose, but Benny was not there. I looked farther down the road and saw an ambulance backing away, lights flashing, and I knew he was in custody. This helped calm the seas churning within me. Grendel slipped into his cave, threw his one good arm around his mother, and wept. It was all up to that fierce bitch now to settle the score. I’m talking the police, of course, blind justice, the majesty of the thing we buy with our taxes. Benny would have his day in court, and his life in prison.

My right wrist was clutched and carefully but firmly brought around to the small of my back. Then the other wrist, the snap of handcuffs clicking like bones manipulated by a chiropractor.

“That’s him,” a voice said, and I recognized it. I squinted through this fairyland of lights and saw the taxi driver standing in the background near his cab, which was parked behind the second police car in line.

“What’s your name?” a cop said.

“His name is Pete Larkey!” the driver shouted. “That’s the guy!”

“Sir, could you please go stand by your vehicle?” another cop said.

The driver walked backwards and sat against the fender of his taxi. Folded his arms. Glared at me. I looked away.

“What is your name, sir?”

“Peter Larkey.

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