Jacqueline Druga - Omnicide

Eb nodded knowingly. “Yeah. Brian is known for his creative obituaries.”

“He’s good,” Ada said. “Did you read the obituary he did on Mrs. Stevens, the history teacher?”

“Oh my God, yes,” Eb replied. “Three times.”

Ada accepted her coffee with a thanks. “Lena, if you did all this what is Kat gonna film?”

“I thought we could film the garden and you can explain your technique.”

“You mean put me on the TV?” Ada asked.

Lena nodded.

“No. Not this old face.” Ada sipped her coffee. “This is good.”

“Glad you like it. I can get you camera ready. You’ll look twenty years younger.”

“That’s something to think about. Maybe Brian won’t be so ready to write my obituary.”

Cass’ voice entered the kitchen. “Brian isn’t coming. He texted me last night said he wasn’t feeling well. I think he’s just embarrassed because his psoriasis is acting up.”

Ada cringed. “He does get it bad.”

“Must be something in the wind,” Lena said. “John’s fax said he and the girls have poison ivy.”

“It’s that time of year,” Eb said.

Cass peeked at the food. “This looks great.”

“Have some,” Lena told her. “I’m making Eb eat, he came to tell me about the bus.”

“Be ready next week,” Eb said, then looked at Kat as if he’d just noticed him. “Holy cow, Kat. You got tall.”

“You’ll have that,” Kat replied. “Especially when your dad is tall.”

“He is,” Eb said. “How old are you now?”

“Sixteen. I’ll be seventeen next month.” Kat sat down at the table.

“Are you driving?” Eb asked.

“Just started.”

“Wow.” Eb sat back. “Time goes fast. You realize, Cass, Jordie would be driving now too.”

“Yeah,” Cass’ voice cracked. “Can you excuse me. I have to get back to town.”

She started to leave.

“Wait,” Lena called. “Take your breakfast buffet muffin with you.” She handed her one wrapped in a towel.

“Thank you.” She passed a smile to Lena, lifted her hand in a slight wave, and hurried out.

“Was it something I said?” Lena asked.

“Nope,” Eb answered. “Something I said.” Eb slipped for a moment, was solemn, but quickly bounced back and resumed his conversation with Kat.

Brass Balls and Beer wasn’t just a pub for happy hour and evening socializing, it was place to eat when those in Griffin just didn’t want the atmosphere of the friendly family diner. Or in Kit’s case, being in ear shot of too many people.

He ordered three coffees from Glen and said he’d let him know about breakfast. He wanted to see what his table companions wanted.

When Art and Bill arrived, they seemed relieved that Kit wanted to speak to them in less than legal surroundings, that the coffee was good, and the breakfast menu was still available.

Bill looked up to Glen when he set the plate of eggs down. “Thank you.”

“So you’re believing us,” Art said to Kit.

“You’re not telling me anything,” Kit replied. “Really, other than see who left town, that could tell us something and set up a… roadblock.”

“Just for today,” Art said. “Tomorrow will be fine.”

“And are you going to tell me exactly what this… thing… as you put it, is?” Kit asked.

Art nodded. “I will once I know if I was right or wrong. There are a lot of variables and if I spew them out without visual proof as an explanation it won’t make sense.”

“Hmm,” Bill hummed out. “Kind of early to be drinking. Or is that normal in this town?”

“Dad, I’m not drinking,” Art said.

Kit saw Bill stare at the bar and when he looked over, he saw Cass. She sat center of the bar, a glass before her with an inch of brown liquid, more than likely whiskey. “Can you… can you guys excuse me?” Kit stood up.

Cass tapped her forefinger on the side of the glass steadily, causing the whiskey to ripple slightly. It was hypnotic, and she stared at it. Wanting to drown all in her mind, but there wasn’t enough whiskey in the bar to do that.

For the second day in a row her mind couldn’t stop thinking.

Going back.

You realize, Cass, Jordie would be driving now too. Eb had said.

And just like that, Cass was back.

Their car was a mess and they’d only been on the road three hours. Food wrappers, empty coffee cups, and the car ashtray that fit in the cup holder was already overflowing. Eb chain-smoked when he drove.

They laughed, the radio went from off then on, but more so they watched her parents’ blue sedan ahead of them. They stayed a few car lengths behind, following them on the family vacation.

“Fifty-seven,” Eb said as they drove. “Whoa. Wait. Fifty-nine.”

“He’s creeping up to the speed limit.” Cass laughed.

“Your father will never drive the speed limit. Ever.”

“I don’t know what changed,” Cass said. “I remember my mother always yelling at him to slow down.”

“He probably never sped,” Eb told her. “Just not your dad. Your mom is probably still telling him to slow down.”

“We should have been the lead car,” Cass said.

“No, then we’d be doing that thing where we pull over every twenty miles to wait for them.”

“We may get to the Grand Canyon this week, right?” Cass joked.

Eb laughed. “Oh, wait, he’s picking up speed. No, he changed his mind. Fifty-six… shit.”

Truck.

It came out of nowhere, full speed, appearing like a ghost from over the edge of the slight grade. It wasn’t a tractor-trailer, it was a pickup truck. A newer one and bigger than normal. It was as if the driver didn’t realize he had his own lane. He drifted into their lane and plowed head-on into her parents’ car.

Just like that.

An instant, a split second. Laughter to heartache.

The blue sedan folded, smashed, and flipped like a box being clipped by a car going full speed down the road.

So fast. So hard.

Cass instantly and instinctively released a gut bellowing scream just before Eb’s hard breaking caused the car to spin sideways and become one with the wreckage of the truck.

Everything went black.

She wished to God Eb wasn’t such a good driver or his reaction time was a second slower—if it had been, she, too, along with Eb would have been dead.

“An old familiar scene,” Kit said standing by her at the bar. He took a seat. “Stare, think, wait, drink it fast then go.”

“Yep.” Cass nodded. “Only I’m not washing down pills.”

“That’s a good thing,” Kit said.

“You’re not gonna ask me if I’m going to take them again, are you?”

“Have I ever?” Kit asked. “You stopped. That’s good enough for me.”

“Eight years, Kit. Eight years,” Cass whispered. “And the memories I am having today and yesterday are as real as they were then.”

“Cass, there is no time limit on grief. Especially loss when it’s sudden and traumatic. This isn’t the first time you flashed back there and it won’t be the last. It’s how you handle it.”

“You’re right.”

“I knew… I knew putting you on that accident story wasn’t a good idea.”

“It was a trigger, but you know, but Eb… Eb today just innocently said that Jordie would be driving like Kat and”—Cass snapped her finger—“bam. There I was.”

Eb’s voice called to her. “Cass, Cass please, it’s going to be alright.”

She was outside, the sun blaring in her eyes when she came to. On her back, she knew she was being carried and Eb moved with her, running alongside the stretcher, the sound of the helicopter whirling loudly. “Eb. Eb… are they…?”