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The porch creaked under the weight of a man who hasn’t stepped foot onto it in many years. The wood was half rotten and termite bitten, but still sturdy, as though it hadn’t been standing for almost a hundred years. He drummed his fingers along the support beams that ran horizontally between the short fencing surrounding the porch and the tin roof above it. A person could stand there for hours just looked out over the acres of open farmland around them. The way the pinkend sky melted over the golden hills. Chickens cooed and pigs squealed in the distance. He didn’t dawdle on the sights in front of him. He’s seen thousands of summer mornings just like this one before, this one wasn’t special.
He pushed the creaking door open before stepping foot into the dusty foyer of his childhood. He couldn’t help but suck his teeth. How many God damn times did he tell that ol’ geezer to oil that door up. For a man for used to be a self proclaimed genius inventor, he sure know how to cut corners and leave even the simplest of tasks to rot away. He couldn’t even name all the shit that just glued and duck taped back together in this house.
Before walking in any further he kicked his shoes off at the front door. Even if there was no one to yell at him for tracking in mud or for bein disrespectful it would just feel wrong to leave them on. He ran a hand along the cracked and dusty side of the staircase leading up to the second floor. He shivered just thinking about going up there.
He reminded himself that there was no need to rush this, he had all the time in the world. He wasn’t ready for this, but then again who is ready for death? It shook him to his core thinking of his his pawpaw, no, his father, he owed the man that much after all these years. Just thinking of him sitting up there alone again, up in his bed in that cold room. The said he died in his sleep but what if they were wrong? What if he woke up alone and breathless, staring up at the ceiling scared and unable to move? What then? What if he called out for him? Why hadn’t he been able to hold his hand one last time?
He punched the wall with the side of his fist making the many framed pictures, drawings, and prestigious papers shake. His breaths came out shaky and wet. This was no time to be spirialing like that, he had to much to do. He didn’t have time to sit there stuck in self pity and shame. He shook his head, hard. Get a grip man.
His feet brought him straight into the kitchen/dinning room. It hadn’t changed much since he was a child. It was funny, he could still remember when he was dropped off by his actual Pa all those years ago. He had only be seven, he didn’t understand why his Pa was always so angry, why he always picked fights with him when he got home from school, why he angry bruises all over his body when ever he was drinking. All he knew was that his Pa got some shiny new job out west, the same one his Pawpaw had had years ago, and that the old man finally had a reason to ditch his ass.
He never visited. He didn’t call. He didn’t even send letters. The only way either he or his Pawpaw knew his busted ass was alive somewhere out there was the check they got in the mail each month. It would be sighed by some people called Builders League United, however the hell that was. Shoot, to this day he had knew clue. All he knew was his Pawpaw hated em, so he guessed he hated em to. That is to say if he ever came into contact with them, which was highly unlikely.
He ran his hand over the slick wooden table. His great-great grandpa had built this house and most of the furniture in it. It was a damn shame to see it collect dust like this, though he supposed it wouldn’t anymore. All of it was his, or at least thats what the lawyer said when he read out his will. It had been kinda awkward but mostly sad to be not only the only person mentioned in his will, but to be the only person who showed up at his funeral. That man deserved better then that, but there wasn’t exactly much he could do to change those facts.
He found in front of the fridge, rummaging in it as though he were still a twenty year old man looking to start breakfast. He stared for a second inside, unmoving. Blinking once, twice, thrice. Then he laughed. A snort came out from his nose as moved a hand over his smiling face. He must looked like a crazy loon, but he didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t help but glace up skywards before pulling out a, what he already knew was, a red velvet cake with fluffy vanilla icing covered in shredded coconut and chocolate sprinkles.
A signature cake from coffee shop at the small town a stones throw away from here. It also, just so happens, to be his favorite one. He gently moved it from its glass case and onto a large glass service plate before grabbing a fork out of the draw all by muscle memory, he didn’t bother with cutting any slices. As he pulled the chair out, it protests against the hard wood floor echoed through out the house. In return he was greeted by the sound of rustling coming from upstairs.
He hadn't really been paying attention to that though, he just sat there stuffing his face as fast as he could full of cake. Images of him as a little boy sitting in the bed of his Pawpaw’s truck with his old hound dog raced through his mind. They would start ever Sunday like that, heading down the twenty minute drive into town watching the sun rise in the sky behind them. Red dust kicking up and mixing with the fresh morning dew making a smell that he could never seem to match. They’d walk in, his Pawpaw all gruff words and teasing remarks to the other men as the waitresses fussed over him. He’d always get a milk on the house cause in there words he was a ‘growing boy’.
Though the only growing they ever really helped with was with his gut. The ladies would come over a pinch his cheeks, tell him how handsome he was while piling surgery donuts, eculers, fritters, and cake slices onto his plate. His Pawpaw would shoo em off right quick, tell em all if it would go to his head before winking at him, calling him a lady killer under his breath. He laughed around his newest forkful of cake. Yeah, real lady killer he turned out to be.
They’d bring out a bag of donut holes for the old mutt and throw them up in the air for him to check. ‘Aiming practice’ as the old man would say. The fresh smell of black coffee would cling to both of them as they would enter the Church. An old Lutherin chrch that could barely hold more then twenty people, which was good cause the population of the town couldn’t have been more then that. They would always stand in the back for the whole sermine, his old man wasn’t real religious but he still believed in going to church on Sundays. Maybe he thought it would make up for all the dubious science he did during the rest of the week. He was never sure, and he guessed it didn’t really matter now.
He was broken out of his reminiscing by something shoving at his leg. He scooted his chair out a little making eye contact with Einstein. The little pugs eyes were watery, meaning he must have just woken up. He smiled down at him.
“Oh you little chow hound, Ein whatcha’ want from me.” The little dog just shook were he stood, bringing one paw up to claw at his black slacks. He reached down grabbing the pugs fat little body and pulled him into his lap. Not two seconds and he already knew his crisp black suit was now covered in cream colored fur. He sneezed as Ein licked at his face.
“Haha, big baby, I missed you too.” Once the pug seemed satisfied with the kisses he had give the man he moved to turn around, waddling closer to the plate full of cake on the table. Quickly he pulled Ein back, plopping him back on the ground, giving him one last head scratch.
“Now you know better, can’t be letting you have chocolate little man.” He stopped and chuckled to himself. “Though I guess you wouldn’t know, with your Daddy hating chocolate.” he sniffed his nose, breathes becoming shorter as he looked up at the ceiling. “He couldn’t stand the shit.” He bit his lip hard enough to bruise. His body jumped with each hiccuping breath the left him. His vision swam as he stared at the slightly yellowed popcorn ceiling above him.
He wiped the excess icing with the back of his hand as gentle licks were placed on his other. A wet chuckle came from his mouth as he stood up, picking up Einstein with him.
“I guess its just you and me now Ein.” Unknowing of the funeral that had happened this morning and equally unknowing of his owners death from a few days back in the first place, Ein just looked at him with those big black eyes as his butt shook from the intensity of his wagging.
He moved them into the living room, crashing onto the sofa with Ein of his stomach. He’d sleep for a bit, he could at least afford to give himself a short break after everything this past week. He sighed to himself as he ran his hands through the dogs short hair. Looking around the room, he smiled softly. His eyes were still wet, and they would be for some time now but he was alright. He rubbed circles in Ein’s back, they both were gonna be okay.
So long as he held onto what mattered, honored his Pawpaw’s wishes and kept on living, they’d make it work. Maybe this was a sign to come home, not a very nice sign but he digressed. He had felt so lost out there in Austin, he never liked big cities to begin with and no matter how long he lived out there it never did feel like home.
He had only left to attend college, where he acquired his many Phd’s, which took quiet a few years on their own. By the time he finished schooling he was already in his mid thirties and most thrity year olds don’t live with their legal guardians. So he stayed, and he hated ever second of it. He hated the mechanics shop he worked at, he hated his apartment, he hated that the street lights made it incapable of seeing the stars at night, and he hated he felt while living there.
God he had never felt more alone in his entire life. But he was here now, he was home. Things can only go up from here. Please let them go up from here. He was gonna start over, take care of the farm, and finish whatever the hell the old man had been working on over the years. He’d missed out on so many inventions and discoveries that he knew were laying just a few feet away in the basement. But those could wait till tomorrow.
He looked at Ein one last time, the dog having already fallen asleep. Yeah, all that could wait till tomorrow.
The fall breeze was refreshing as he swiped beads of sweat off his forehead. Chickens were feed and eggs were grabbed, goats were milked and feed, The horse was taken care of, and the pigs were fed. He had finished most of that early in the morning but now its was mid-day. The sun beat down on his neck and exposed arms as he pulled the finally ripened corn off the stocks, dropping them into an old gallon bucket. He’d shuck them tonight, after this he’d have to check on the tomatoes and cucumbers. Hopefully, if everything went according to plan they’d sell good in town.
He’d only been back a year and a half but everything just seemed to fall back into place again. 1965, damn the decade was already half way over. He popped his back before pulling the last two husks of corn. He’d drop this batch off on the porch before heading over to the other vegetable garden. When he returned he all but collapsed onto the front steps. He tipped his head back, watching an upside down Ein lay undisturbed in the stretches of sun beams that reached the porch. He cracked a smile, at least he wasn’t the only one getting in a little sunbathing. Though his wasn’t nearly as consensual, even after three layers of sunscreen his skin was still red and puff.
Ye just can’t win. He sighed out before getting up. He’d pour himself a nice cup of lemond, sit on the porch swing, then finish up for the day. It wouldn’t kill him to take a small break, despite what his late Pawpaw might have thought. When he made his way back outside with his drink, he was met with the image of a black car speeding down the dirt path up to his house. Couldn’t be anything good.
He kept up a cool air though, rocking back and forth slightly on the swing taking sips here and there. After parking a young woman in a black pencil skirt and a purple blouse stepped out. She struggled for a second as she tried to maneuver the uneven path in her kitten heels. As she made her way closer to the steps she raised a hand in greeting, using the other to push her glasses up.
“Good morning, you are Mr. Dell Conagher, yes?” She seemed slightly ruffled, smiling up at him from were she stood at one the first step.
“Aw, you can just call me Dell ma’am, Mr. Conagher was my Grandpa. Now what can I help you with?” He didn’t know why exactly yet but he got bad vibes off of her. His shot gun was only three steps away sitting pretty in the entrance of the house, he reminded himself. That fact didn’t make him feel any better.
“Alright then, Dell, I just came on behalf of my company, Builders League United, to give our condolences about you’re Grandfather. I also came to discuss some of his blueprints that had been left with the company now that he’s gone. If now is a good time that is?” She said that as though she would leave if he said no, but he knew better with these kind of people. Though he couldn’t stop his body from tensing at the mention of his Pawpaw’s inventions. The though of his plans just being out there somewhere in the world for anybody to get the grubby little hands on them made his bloody go cold.
“It’s fine, make yourself at home.” He made his way into the house, hearing her heels click on the old wood as she followed. They made their way into the kitchen were she sat done at the table.
“Can I interest you in anything ta drink? How about somethin ta eat?”
“Oh, no, I would hate to impose.” Her voice was more clippy then polite as she began pulling papers out of her briefcase.
“Now I just wanted to get some routine information out of the way just to insure that we are up to date on your files. With your Grandfather and Father working for us for quiet some time, we have quiet a bit of information on you. But now we’ll actually be able to confirm it.”
He didn’t like were this was going, not one bit. He stayed standing, resting his hands on the back of chair across from her, in case he need to get out of her line of sight quickly. She cleared her throat.
“Dell Conagher, Blood type AB positive, Lutheran Christian, 41 years old.”
“Ah, more so atheist if I’m being honest.”
She looked up at that before scribbling something onto one of her many papers.
“11 Phds, all of which tying back to engineering. You’re quite the inverter, though that seems to run through your family. Your skills with both shotguns and pistols are nothing to scoff at either. Even though the pump action shot gun you favor can only hold two slugs at a time you sure know how to make them count. From you’re most recent target practice its recorded here that you can hit your target 17 out of 24 times. Not exactly breaking any records but impressive none the less.” She tried to sound nonchalant but with each sentence Dell itched to run. He’d let her make the first move though, he just had to be patient for a little longer. But when it came down to it, he won’t hesitant to do what he has to when she turns on him.
“Lets get down to brass tax, shall we? I would like for you to meet with my employer. Many years ago your Grandfather built a one of a kind invention for him, though coincidentally he built another just like it for our competitor too when offered a large sum of money,” yeah, that sounded like him. “You see no one on our team can decipher his records, of which we have thousands. Sky high stacks of papers of some of his most daring inventions, most of which he never got around to making. I’ll make you a deal, you come with me now, meet my employer, agree to his terms, and you get to have a top of the line workshop and all the tools and building blocks to make as many toys as you want, no questions asked. How’s that sound, Dell?”
He paused for a second. His grandfathers legacy was in the hands of these people. That was really all he needed to hear. Though he loved inventing and tinkering, it was his life blood, but he also had a deep love for his farm, his animals, his crops, and the people in Johnson city.
“Though if you're apposed to such a transaction I’m sorry to say my employer won’t be pleased. And between you and me, he’s know to make some pretty rash decisions when mad.” Ah, there it is. He laughed a little making the young woman raise an eyebrow at him. Of corse, he can’t live now, even with the smallest fraction of information she’d given him it was still to much to let him walk away a free man.
“I think I’d like to meet that employer of yours before I make any further decisions, if that's alright with you ma’am?” And she smiled a, surprisingly, toothy smile. Though maybe that fact shouldn’t have shocked him as much as it did.
“Of course, please follow me.” She stood and like a dog, he followed her out to her car. He made sure to lock Ein inside before following her any further.
“Oh and don’t worry, this will just be a day trip before you’ll be brought back to settle all of your affairs.” Jesus, did he even have affairs that need to be settled? Maybe he would after this impromptu meeting. What ever happened though, he had to get those blueprints. Didn’t matter how, but they those plans were either leaving with him or burning. He’d let her think she was in control, but in the end he was going to get what he needed and then go back to his life. Whatever plans they had for him, he was sorry to say, but they just weren’t gonna happen.
He was wrong. God he had never been so wrong in his life. These people were fucking insane. Miracle immortality machines, gravel wars, hired killers, blood feuds, and what he guessed was a hole bunch of other immoral and downright debauched shit laying right under his nose. His stomach churned at the thought of his ‘dear ol’ dad’ working for these people. God his Pawpaw worked for these people. And now look at him, the apple didn’t fall to far from the tree.
He put his head in his hands. What was he gonna do? If he ran, they’d find him. If he shot this whole place up, they’d just have a ten more backup factories pop up. If he killed the head honcho, a new person would inherit the fortune. If he had shot that damn devil of a woman back at his house, they just would have sent an army after his ass. There is literally no were to hide. They were everywhere, ever county, every city, in ever state, every country, every what ever the hell else there is. He was fucked from the start.
He was never gonna win. And now he’s stuck in fucking Hudspeth county in New Mexico. This was his life now. On the bright side, he had his Pawpaw’s blueprints, though that didn’t really mean much anymore. He as gonna have to build all this shit, help in the makings of a war. He stopped. He sat there real quiet for a second, and then stood. He didn’t. He didn’t have to do anything. Ha. He was gonna end this shit before it started. And yeah, they’ll probably just replace him after this and they probably had at least a hundred back up copies of these plans, but they could never find again the one thing he had. An understand and love for his Pawpaw. No one, and he meant no one else, could ever possibly decipher this hit without him making them a key at least.
So many inside jokes between them, codes that made no since without context, pass codes and keys that were built with love in mind. A love that could only be built between family, and he was the last in his family. He’d make it quick, start up the shiny new forage they had been oh so nice enough to set up for him. He was already crumpling the papers into tiny little balls before chucking them in without a second thought. He knew there were cameras littering this room, so he had to act fast.
At least they had the foresight to not leave him with a gun, but they weren’t smart enough. The newly reinforced chop saw glittered as the reflected fire danced across its metal blade. He had one shot to do this right, he had to make this count. By the time he made his way over and pulled the blade back, the sound of stomping footsteps echoed in the hall behind him. Everything next felt like it happened in snap shots.
The blade started spinning. Men barged in. He stupidly looked back, hesitating. One ran into him, knocking him forward. His upper body sprawled across the table. The table shook, causing the blade to slam down. His body didn’t even react, no pain, no screaming, no fear. Just a chilling numbness as he stared down at were his right hand used to be. Everything just below his elbow, gone. It was a clean cut, leaving his arm a nub of flesh, squirting out deep dark blood as a puddle formed on the table, dripping down to the floor below.
He stared at it, as everything in the room seemed to stop moving. Bone, mangled meat and muscle, popped opened veins. He blinked once, twice, then fell to the ground. He didn’t even vomit, just dry heaved a silent scream before his eyes rolled in the back of his head. He felt cold. The air, his sweat, the puddle of blood he now lay in. It was all cold. Though his vision had gone black and his skin felt numb and tingly, he knew they were moving him. Taking him to a secondary location to fix him.
They wouldn’t make the same mistake with him again. That was it, his one shot, and he blow it. Fan-fucking-tastic. The black pools he now seemed to be swimming in spun around him. Hopefully he’d bleed out before they got to any sort of medical area. Knowing his luck so far, that wouldn’t happen. Besides, if they really needed him as much as he thinks they do, they’d just find a way to revive him. If they had the tech for immortality, then revving the dead isn’t such a far fetched idea.
The freezing feeling spread further throughout his body. If he was capable of it, he would have shivered. At the moment though, his body was most likely just twitching and spazzing. He missed the heat, the sun, the sweat that ran down his brow from working in the field. He’d never get that back though. But as he settled further into the darkness he felt something in him change. He didn’t know if it was the blood loss or his mind trying to comprehend his slow death but slowly, ever so slowly, the cold became familiar. Like an old friend, it wrapped him up in a tight hug of ice. It was almost nice, he couldn’t help but think as his thoughts started to turn to fizzle.
Yeah, it wasn’t so bad, if anything he could stay here forever. Let the cold consume him, eat him bit by bit until nothing left of him remained.
Please, God, if you are real, listen to him just this once and let him come home. Please.
But he knew better then to think that his childish prayers would be answered. Hell, even if God did exist, the man clearly had a sick a twisted way of showing love to him. Test after test after test. So when he wakes up later with a start, wired up to every machine imaginable, tubes running all through out his body, he looks up to the ceiling, he closes his eyes tight, and he cries. He isn’t surprised, not at all, but that doesn’t make his heart ache any less.