Dave Zeltserman - The Caretaker of Lorne Field

The food from his refrigerator had been packed in a couple of the boxes and left in the sun to spoil. He sniffed the salami and sliced American cheese, decided they were still okay, and made a sandwich. He ate it slowly, then found the container of milk, sniffed it also, and poured out the spoiled contents. Fortunately, Hank had added a case of soda to his shopping cart. Jack Durkin found a can in one of the other boxes and drank it. When he was done with his dinner, he got to his feet and walked around to the back of the house.

When Durkin left that morning the back entranceway to the kitchen was covered by a screen door and an almost equally flimsy wooden door. The outer door’s paneled windows would’ve been easy to punch out so the door could be unlocked. Both doors had since been replaced with something solid, and a padlock and seizure notice were attached to it. Jack Durkin hit this newer door with his fist several times and saw that he had little chance of breaking through it. He walked around the house sizing up his windows and settled on one in the kitchen. He broke the glass, cleared it away and used several of the boxes as a makeshift stepladder. The phone and cord had been packed away in one of the boxes. He took them with him, along with the seizure notice that he ripped from the back door, and crawled through the window.

It was awkward getting his thick body turned around and onto the kitchen countertop, and worse to lower himself to the floor, but he did it without cutting himself on any of the glass he’d broken. He turned on the lights. With the kitchen emptied out and all of Lydia’s clutter removed from the countertops, the room looked small and foreign to him. He plugged the phone into the jack and heard a dial tone and was thankful they hadn’t cut off phone service yet.

He called Hank Thompson and told him that his house had been seized.

“Whoa, slow down, Jack, tell me again what’s going on.”

“I came home today from weeding and found everything I own on the front yard with a padlock and notice on the door. According to the notice, the town council cancelled my Caretaker’s contract and had my house seized.”

“Do you have the notice nearby?”

“Yep. I can read it to you.”

“Please do.”

Durkin read the attorney the seizure notice. When he was done, Hank’s voice sounded unnaturally tinny as he told him that the town had no right doing this. Durkin realized this was the first time he had heard Hank Thompson scared.

“They have to notify you first, Jack. They can’t just storm into your house like Gestapo agents. This is America, for God sakes. It’s not right. I promise you I’m going to get to the bottom of this. Wait a minute… Jack, where are calling from?”

“My kitchen.”

“You’re inside the house?”

“Yep.”

“That’s not good, Jack. You don’t want to give them any excuses to arrest you.”

“They left the Caretaker’s contract in the basement. I’m getting it.”

“Okay, I understand,” Hank said, sounding almost panicked. “Get your contract as quickly as you can and leave the house. I’ll head over there now and meet you out front.”

Hank Thompson hung up.

Durkin took a step towards the basement steps and then wanted to kick himself for not bringing the flashlight in with him. He thought briefly about going back outside for it, but the thought of crawling out and then back in again through the window changed his mind. He left the basement door wide open hoping that enough light would filter down so he could see, then headed down the steps.

The light from upstairs didn’t help much. By the time he got a few feet into the basement it was too dark to see anything. When he reached the back wall he tried to find the loose stones by memory, but pulled on half a dozen wrong stones before he found the ones that slid out. He could feel the book and contract in their hiding place. He took both of them out and headed back upstairs.

Durkin did a quick walk through the house to make sure nothing else was left behind. After satisfying himself, he went back to the kitchen, turned off the lights, and maneuvered himself so he was kneeling on the countertop and could lower himself out the window. Facing the kitchen, he put one foot out through the window, felt for the stack of boxes outside and steadied himself before sticking his other foot out.

“You’re trespassing, Jack. I could arrest you for that.”

Wolcott’s voice startled him and he lost his balance and did an unintentional stutter-step off the box. He landed awkwardly, rolling over his left ankle and dropping the contract and Book of Aukowies. Wincing, he grabbed his injured ankle. He gritted his teeth and told the sheriff he had to go back into the house to get his belongings.

“We packed everything of yours up,” Wolcott said.

“You left my contract and book in the basement,” Durkin forced out through a clenched jaw. With horror, he saw that the binding for the Book of Aukowies had split open when it hit the ground and its pages were scattered around him. He fought back a sob. Hell if he’d let this son of a bitch see him cry. He gathered up the pages and placed them back in the book.

“You had no right doing what you did,” he said. “No right at all.”

“I had every right, Jack. I only did what the town council ordered me to do.”

“You had no right. Dumping everything I own on my front yard. Not even giving me a day’s notice.”

“Jack, a notice was placed in your mailbox over a week ago. It’s not my fault you’re too busy saving the world each day to read your mail.”

Durkin looked away from his injured ankle and into the placid face of the County Sheriff, who was staring him down as if he were nothing more than the town drunk. Durkin had never hated anyone more. He was overwhelmed with the thought of letting the Aukowies develop so that Wolcott and his family could experience their full horror.

“You’re enjoying this,” he said.

“No, I’m not, Jack. While I’m happy we’re no longer wasting taxpayer’s money on this nonsense, I’ve got to be honest and tell you that I find your situation sad. But, Jack, you’ve got no one to blame for this but yourself. You could’ve kept this gravy train going for years.”

“Gravy train?” A sour laugh escaped from his lips. “Eight thousand dollars a year for breaking my back every day from spring thaw to first frost is a gravy train, huh?”

“Eight thousand dollars plus a free house. You conveniently left that out, Jack. And besides, eight thousand dollars for doing absolutely nothing is a lot of money. If you wanted to play the part in this charade and break your back, that was your business. And you know, Jack, if you just quietly did your weeding, the town would’ve kept this charade going. But you couldn’t do that. You had to cut your son’s thumb off, and God knows what you did to your wife. We had one lone hold-out in the council, but the final straw was seeing your wife walk out on you with her hand in a cast. Of course, your own words from the court transcript didn’t help you.”

Confusion mixed with the hatred in Durkin’s stare.

“Don’t you remember, Jack? What you said in court a couple of weeks ago? Where you admitted you’re simply pulling out weeds everyday and that the town were saps for paying you to do that? I got a copy of that for the town council. It helped them make up their minds.”

Durkin pushed himself to his feet, hobbling gingerly on his injured ankle. His hands clenched to fists at his side. Wolcott noticed his hands and the slight smile on his lips tightened.

“You knew I was saying that only for the benefit of the judge.”

“You were sworn to the truth, Jack. Under threat of perjury.”