Call me a creeper, call me what you will…
...but that evening spent down at The Brightside signalled a great change in my, so far, declining psyche. Lucy was there, right there in Clearview. She appeared neither as a passing phantom, nor as a ghost. But a mere figment of my imagination come back to life, it would seem. Calling me over with the air of a temptress, luring me in with the most bewitching of eyes...
Lucy and I strode forth upon our respective paths. The two of us bound to intertwine, destined to dance side-by-side through life's twisted maze of love and despair. Yet, she was caught up with Coburn in ways I could barely conceive of. Lucy was his last known romantic interest. His toy, most likely. And that was something I would have to come to terms with.
One way or another…
With every new morning, however, there comes the cherished hope of something special. Something untested and not yet demonstrated. Like the tune of a blind baby duckling crying out for its mother. Or the first emerging flower of springtime, covered in raindrops and flailing by the side of the road.
I awoke the following day to a string of subtle songbirds whistling softly in the distance. Old-timers dressed in their best retirement robes had taken to their front-gardens in unison, each bending down to retrieve the first newspaper of the morning. It was a world that felt a million miles away from my own. A world of contented adventure, if you will.
Deciding to enter that world with a fresh smoke in hand and several burning questions on the mind, I soon left the front door and prized open the mailbox. A few loose pamphlets fell gracefully to my feet, including; a ripped flyer for a local yard sale, a handful of loose bills and late payment notices, as well as a rather strongly worded handout sent courtesy of the Clearview Police Department.
But wait, there was something else.
Ah yes, of course...
A letter, in-fact. Addressed to yours truly. Written in deep, navy blue ink. And sent from the hand of an old acquaintance of mine...
——————————————————
“Lucky…" it read, "...you never should have left, my friend. What happened with the Redwoods wasn’t your fault. Do you understand? It wasn’t your fault, period. You put too much blame on yourself. Find me a Big City cop who hasn’t landed themselves in hot water over the years, and I’ll show you a two-faced, snake-tongued pretender lying through their teeth! No good cop can call themselves an angel Lucky, not even me.
What are you doing with yourself all the way down in Clearview, anyhow? They say the only thing you can count on down that way is the shitty weather! Not that I’ve ever been myself. It’s a crummy little town, they tell me. The only thing worse than the small little roads and the tiny little buildings in a place like that…why, it’s the people of course! You couldn’t pay me to drag my ass to a town like Clearview, Lucky.
Not now…not ever.
That said, I’m starting to worry about you, pal. It’s something I wouldn’t say straight to your face, but I do. I worry what this whole Redwood problem has done to your state of mind, to your well-being. I worry that you’re using this wild goose chase with the missing actor as just another excuse, my friend. A distraction.
We all miss you, I guess. Come back when you can, buddy. That's an order!
Your old partner and pal,
McBride.”
——————————————————
His words took me back somehow. Though, only for a moment....
Before long I was already crumpling up the letter and tossing it unceremoniously towards the waste-paper basket. Some things do not warrant revisiting, ultimately. Some things have been dumped and discarded in the past for good reason, along with all the other loose baggage from yesteryear. And besides, I no longer had time for my former partner or any of his supposedly well-meaning antics. I had bigger fish to fry, of course. Such as...well, for starters...
...the unnamed individual watching me from across the street.
It all began with the swing of the garden gate, you see. Followed by footsteps, sweet dainty footsteps that could have only belonged to a woman. She was high-heeled and purposeful in her approach. ‘Was it Lucy?’ I asked myself rather foolhardily, knowing full well that it could never have been her...
Lucy was not the type of girl who just showed up on your doorstep like that. She was the type who liked to be pursued, who preferred her would-be lover to do the chasing. All whilst she sat back and purred like the downtown alley cat she always was. Eagerly awaiting the next foolish mouse to stumble her way.
I opened the door, nevertheless. Just to see who it was…
“Hello sir!” remarked the young lady on the other side.
She seemed to be in her early twenties, owning a pair of bright blue eyes and a welcoming smile that almost knocked me off my feet.
“I’m looking for the resident in, let’s see…” she continued, peering down at her clipboard enthusiastically, “…in property No. 4? Would that be you sir?”
“Depends who's asking…”
The girl nodded her head and proceeded onwards, straightening the belt beneath her plain white shirt.
“Perhaps I could steal a moment of your time this morning?” she asked, clearly unaware that she had already done exactly that, “…I’m here today on behalf of the Helping Hand Society. Perhaps you’re aware of our work here in Clearview…?”
I was not, not in the slightest…but she didn’t need to know that.
“My colleagues and I are currently undertaking a series of surveys throughout the local area. Would you, or someone in the building, care to take part?”
“How did you get hold of this address?” I asked coldly.
“Your address was given to us by an anonymous benefactor, sir…” she spoke with a grin, “…I’m afraid the details of such remain highly classified at this very stage, but I’d be willing to share them with you if you would just…”
“Listen…” I told her bluntly, “…I don’t have time for this. I’m far too busy this morning. And anyway, I’m already on my way to grab some breakfast!”
But the girl refused to budge.
“Are you certain, sir…?” she retorted, still grinning valiantly, “…at the Helping Hands Society, we’re looking for people just like you to come and share some of your experiences with our community here in Clearview! Perhaps you would like to read our pamphlet…?”
The rather forward young lady subsequently placed a brightly coloured leaflet into the palm of my hand. Without permission, I might add...
“Do you serve as a local resident here in Clearview?” she inquired.
“No…” I replied earnestly, “…I’m only here on business.”
“And how have you found your time here in Clearview? Pleasant? Welcoming?”
“Yeah, it’s been alright I guess…”
“Well isn’t that great..." she declared suddenly, "...we’re looking for people just like you! Now that you’ve already begun this brief survey sir, I wonder if you wouldn’t mind answering a few further questions…?”
“Go on then…” I told her, “…but I haven’t got all day.”
The slightly peculiar girl, whose name I never became privy to throughout the duration of our conversation, had somehow won me over amid the midst of my futile reluctance. Perhaps it was the way her overly-applied red lip-stick shimmered in the morning sun. That, or the fact that there were finally some much needed blue skies glistening above us, watching down and gleaming in a wholesome kind of way.
Had she been a middle-aged man, standing there with a set of heavy rain clouds beating down upon her little bald head, I would have probably slammed the door in her face faster than a hungry greyhound on a sausage trail.
But she wasn’t, so I carried on.
"Here we go, sir..." she proceeded, "...it won't take too long."
We hypothesised for a while over certain subjects, postulated over others, and discussed many a convoluted notion too complicated to mention. The unnamed lady must have asked over a dozen questions whilst fleeting from topic to topic. All seemingly random in nature, and all seemingly unattached to the one that came before.
I stood there bleary-eyed and dazed, far too muddled to properly take it in.
“So, sir…” she concluded finally, “…I have one last question, if that’s ok?”
“Go for it…”
“Do you believe in a path to a brighter future? And if you do, what might that future look like sir?”
I thought on that for a while, before offering up the best answer I could muster.
“The future you ask?” she heard me say, “…I’ll be honest with you lady, the only future that concerns me right about now, is whether I’m going to have eggs for breakfast, or pancakes…or both even!”
The girl slammed her clipboard shut and smiled gleefully.
“By the way you’ve answered these questions sir…” she said, “…I think you might possibly be interested in visiting our community group here in town. In-fact, I would suggest that you don’t want to miss out at all!”
“Community group!?” I repeated with a laugh, “No, no, no…I’m not an alcoholic miss, I don’t touch drugs neither. I already told you, I’m only here on business…”
“That you are sir!" she said, "...but we at the Helping Hands Society do not discriminate when it comes to sourcing like-minded people for our association. From the manner in which you’ve answered these questions this morning, I can clearly see that you are somebody who wants to do something meaningful. Have you ever considered giving something back, sir?”
“Well now that you’ve said that…” I responded hesitantly, unsure of where this next segment of impromptu conversation would ultimately lead me, “…let me think, I…”
“Great!” the girl exclaimed regardless, “…tell you what sir, take this right here…”
With that she proceeded to hand me yet another pamphlet...
“Thanks, I guess…”
“It’s an invite-only conference…” she continued, “…courtesy of the good work begun by Dr Roman Reynard, founder and leading linchpin behind the Helping Hand Society. There will be roughly one hundred people attending. Food will be catered for of course, and there will be plenty of opportunities to sit down and discuss all the local goings on with the rest of your friends here in the area. It’s going to be a great event as I’m sure you’re already aware, sir!”
“And where is this…meeting, as you call it…?” I pondered aloud.
“This Saturday, at the old City Hall building…”
“Will you be there, miss?”
"Wait..." she said, "...what's that!?"
At first I assumed that the girl with the never-ending smile must not have heard me. Either that, or she was somehow displeased with the nature of my response. But then I noticed what had so readily stolen her attention, and immediately...it stole mine away too.
The girl and her clipboard spun hastily in the opposite direction. Not with the satisfaction nor the delight of a recently closed deal, but with a mix of horror and awe, as a series of brightly coloured sirens soared down the neighbouring street like falling rocks in an avalanche. Suddenly we were interrupted by three large ambulances flying past us. Along with two red fire-trucks, plus several speeding police cars all driven at a flickering pace.
“They’ve seen him!”
An elderly neighbour abruptly rushed out from his apartment across the street, calling out to us without warning. He came dressed in pinstripe pyjamas with a rather frenzied expression on his face...
“…down by the forest!” he proclaimed eagerly, “…he’s set them all on fire!”
“Who!?” I cried out desperately, “…who’s set what on fire!?”
“The trees! That evil bastard has set them all on fire!”
The old man continued to rant incessantly, holding his walking stick up in the air and shaking it towards the heavens.
“He’s set them all on fire! He’s a bloody madman!”
“Look…” the girl beside me whispered, pointing her finger towards the horizon where distant plumes of black smoke could be seen gathering at an alarming rate.
“Can’t you see!?” shouted the old man, “…I heard it on the radio just now!”
“Who did this!?!” both the young lady and I repeated one last time.
The elderly neighbour peered back at us with focussed eyes. As the last of the sirens drifted off into the distance and disappeared down the road, he spoke with a voice that was now riddled with a newfound solemn gravity…
“Listen…” the old man finally motioned, “…stop asking me questions and get yourself down there before it’s too late…
…it’s the Wolfman, they say."
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