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Fiction Short Story

by Donna Sundblad

Close to Home

"Chug, chug, chug," the partiers chanted. Mike DuPont slammed his empty beer can onto the table, wiped his mouth and let a loud burp rip. His competitor finished seconds behind him.

Tara raised Mike's arm. "The winner!" She pressed her lips against his. He tipped back in the chair, she straddled his lap, and they fell over in a tangle of arms, legs and giggles.

Later that afternoon he stood at the door, his arms draped around Tara's waist. "Great party."

"You okay to drive?" she asked. Her strawberry blonde eyebrows arched as she rested her head against his chest.

"No problem. It's only a couple of miles. I told my parents I'd be home before dark." He turned and bumped into the doorjamb.

"Mike!"

"Just kidding." He rubbed his head and laughed. "I'll be fine."

He climbed into his Taurus and fumbled with his keys. The key wouldn't slide into the ignition. He studied the offending gadget with crossed eyes. "The house key!" His body shook with laughter. On the third try, the car key slipped into the ignition and the engine roared to life. Tara stood on the porch and blew a kiss in his direction while she blocked the setting sun from her eyes with her other hand.

Mike followed the back roads home. He knew the way blindfolded. The tree lined country road stretched into twilight, as the large red sun hung low on the horizon. The Taurus reached the apex of a small rise when a pair of deer darted across the road. Mike slammed on his brakes, and skidded sideways into the opposite lane and onto the grassy shoulder, where the car did a doughnut.

His heart pounded in his chest. Mike blinked as the two animals disappeared into the brush in front of him. "That was close." The acrid smell of burnt rubber caught up with him as he threw the car into reverse and crawled onto the black top. The setting sun warmed the car and his eyelids grew heavy as he neared home. "Man, I can't wait to get to the house."

Shadows played tricks with his eyes. Sun rays shot strobe-like bursts from behind each tree. Thump. His bumper had grazed something large. He glanced into his rearview mirror. Nothing. Mike rubbed his eyes and squinted into the dusky light. "I must be imagining things." When he pulled into the driveway and stumbled out of his car, he noticed a broken right headlight and dented fender.  I wasn't imagining it. Dad's gonna kill me. Mike groaned inwardly when his dad stepped from the front door.

"Hey, Mike. Have fun at the. What happen to the car?"

Mike swallowed hard and tucked his hands into his pockets. "I think I hit a deer."

"You think you hit a deer?"

"The sun blinded me." He nervously combed his fingers through his dark hair.

His dad crouched in front of the car. "Let's go find out. Where did it happen?"

"Hunt Club Road." A bubble of gas worked its way up Mike's throat and escaped into a raucous, juicy belch.

Mike's dad stood face to face with him. His nose crinkled. "How much did you have to drink?"

"Just a couple of beers," he lied.

His dad shook his head. "Let's go find that deer."

The sun fell behind the horizon and darkness swallowed the country road as the father and son backtracked. The beam from one headlight bounced along the landscape. "Let me know when we're close."

Mike avoided looking at his dad. "I don't know, Dad," Mike whined. "I don't remember." He held his head in his hands.

His dad slammed his fist into the steering wheel. "You better damn well remember. You hit something, Mike."

Mike slumped into his seat and chewed at the edge of his thumbnail. He stared into the limited light offered by the remaining headlight. "What's that?" he asked pointing at a beam of light swinging along the side of the road. Mike's felt the car slow as they approached a man carrying a flashlight.

Mike's dad rolled the driver's side window down. "Hey, Ralph. What are you doing out here?"

"Frannie went out for a walk and hasn't come home. She's been miserable with this pregnancy and walking helps her sleep. I can't figure what's happened to her. I called 911, but I couldn't wait for them. I need to find her."

Mike, trying to hide from the possibilities, wilted into his seat. Did I hit her? Oh, my God? Did I hit Fran?

"We'll help you look for her," Mike's dad said. "What can we do?"

Ralph's lip quivered. "Ed, I'm afraid something has happened to her."

Mike's dad nodded. "We'll drive the route she walks. If we don't see her, we'll come back to get you and head back to your place to meet the police."

Ralph nodded.

Silence blanketed the interior of the Taurus like a shroud. "Mike," his father glanced at his him, "Is there any way you could have hit Fran?"

Mike didn't say a word.

"Mike!" his dad shouted. "Tell me you didn't hit Fran!"

"I don't know! I don't know," he screamed. "I don't know," he whimpered and broke into body wrenching sobs. "Oh, God, Dad, I didn't mean to."

They followed the circuit Fran walked with no sign of the young woman, and headed back to find Ralph. "What are you gonna tell him, Dad?"

"I don't know." Mike's dad's jaw muscles tightened. He pulled up behind Ralph and climbed out of the car. "I'm sorry, Ralph. No sign of her."

"What's this?" Ralph asked as the beam of his flashlight glittered across shards of broken glass sprinkled on the side of the road.

"Come on, Mike, get out of the car."

Mike hung his head and followed the two men into the brush. "Oh, my God, what have I done?" he moaned.

"What's he talking about?" Ralph asked. He turned to look at the boy and the beam from his flashlight sliced through the dark and brushed across a still form in the ditch.

"Over there," Mike's dad pointed to the obscure shape just beyond the reach of the light.

Mike stood paralyzed.

The chirping of a cell phone made Mike jump. Ralph handed the flashlight to Mike's dad, and answered his phone. "Hello." He covered his ear and turned his head to get better reception. "Hello."

Mike watched his father walk toward the still form hidden in the tall grass. This feels like a dream. This can't be happening. He glanced at Ralph who was still talking on the phone and followed his father. "I'm going to be sick," he announced hoarsely. Weak-kneed he fell to the ground and wretched. He wiped his mouth and glanced toward the light reflecting off the soft brown hair of his victim. Lifeless brown eyes seemed to stare back at him.

Mike jumped as Ralph rested his hand on his shoulder. "You okay, Mike?"

The youth offered a feeble nod.

"I've got to get to the hospital, Ed," Ralph said as he turned his attention to Mike's dad. "Can you give me a lift? Frannie went into premature labor. Al Tucker found her along the road, and gave her a lift."

"Sure, Ralph. Happy to. Come on, Mike, get in the car."

Mike glanced back toward the dead body hidden by the veil of night. I'll never drink and drive again, he vowed to himself and crawled into the back seat.


About the Author
Donna resides in Florida with her husband, Rick. Her freelance publishing credits range from nonfiction to fictional short stories, articles on the craft of writing, and in early 2005, her writing book, Pumping Your Muse, is due to be released by ePress. Donna's short story, "Shelter In the Shadows," is listed among those nominated for the 2005 Edgar Award. She is also a partner at Team Spirit Critique and Editing, LLC. For more information check out her website at http://www.theinkslinger.net.