Gray Goose Road

September 28th, 2017

It was lucky for us that old man Tillis was around when he was. He had it out within a few minutes and we could get some things moved in. Staying out of Amy's late night talk is hard. I think the best thing to do now is to let her cool down. I can't even make her laugh right now. So I unloaded the rest of the things off the moving van.

So after about two hours of backbreaking work while Amy looked after our boy, I got the living room, that splits left from a small hallway in from the front door, and our bedroom, to the right from the same small hallway, put together. Got the bed put up, the dressers moved, and the televisions connected. After a while, with my wife entertaining Kellen in the living room with some cartoons now, I went outside for a smoke, maybe even look around the place. A place this old needed work for sure.

Among the tall grass that was our yard, I found a door out to the right of the house near the back, right in the gray foundation of the house. I thought it might have been strange at first, but George from yesterday mentioned it. I pressed at the door and found a lock rattle off to my right, hidden in some of the overgrown grass. The lock itself was old and rusted. Old was an understatement. The thing was ancient. I found a big rock near the door and hit it as hard as I could. The lock seemed to turn to dust, which I thought was weird, but I thought little else of it as the door easily swung inward. It was cold inside as I ducked under a large spiderweb that tried to ambush my face. I found a broken broom handle and spun the web up in a sort of protein cotton candy stick before I pressed forward. I should have brought a jacket, damn it was cold. But I looked at old and dusty handmade shelves with jars filled with some sort of liquids. They lined the place at about five feet in, thirty ten across. I mean, it looked like someone was pickling a lot of something in these mason jars. But there wasn't much else.

And that was just it... There wasn't anything else. All this space just to pickle some... What, cucumbers? Plums? Pig's feet? I didn't know. But the stranger thing was the back wall from where I entered. All the other walls were gray, but the back wall was red brick. That made the back of my mind tingle. I heard footfalls from above, and by my guess, for the front door. I made a mental note and left the cellar for now.

I met Amy on the front porch with a cigarette in my lips. "Hey hun."

 "Kellen fell asleep. I laid him on some blankets on the floor." She said to me as I walked to the porch swing and sat down. "We still need to talk about dinner for tonight."

 I nodded. "Think they deliver pizza out this far?"

 "I dunno. I doubt it. We might need to go into town." She said.

 I nodded. "Alright. I'll go."

 "I could use a break from Kellen. I mean, I love our boy, but mommy needs some mommy time," she leaned on me, sniffed and then shot back up. "Why do you smell?"

 I pulled the cigarette out of my mouth and shown her. "Maybe 'cause of these? I know. I need to quit."

 "No, I mean..." She wrinkled her nose, "why do you smell old?"

"Oh. I found a cellar, so I went spelunking-" I watched her face twist into amusement and giggled. "What?"

 "Spelunking. That's a funny word." She managed. I couldn't help but chuckle, too.

 "Yeah. Kinda is, ain't it?" I asked rhetorically. "I found someone was pickling something. Don't know what thought."

 "Cool, I guess? We might need to check it out then." She stood, and I pinched her butt to watch her jump.

"I promise to make up for the way I was last night." I winked at her.

 "You better, mister." She went into the house and came back out after a moment. "I'll go get us some pizza. I got my cell phone on me."

 I gave her a kiss. "Be careful-"

 "Don't worry, I won't let them kill me with their hospitality," she joked. "I love you."

 "I love you too."

She got down the steps and spun around. "I know he's asleep, but-"

 "I'm headed inside after this. Don't worry." I watched her turn back around and head for the car. As she opened the door, she looked back up at me.

"No scary movies!"

 "No scary movies, I got it." I replied. She got into the car and backed up from the porch.

"And change him when he gets up!" She called. I sighed in exasperation.

 "Get going, ya idgit!" I laughed. She giggled again, and I watched the Nissan ride down the dirt road, round the left bend until her car was out of sight. I finished my cigarette and headed inside to sit with my sleeping son.

I sat on the side of the bed as Amy slept. I could satisfy her tonight, but something kept hurting from the back of my mind. She knew this. We've talked about this many times before. It's always hard for me to sleep after making love to her. I walked into the empty house at night, just taking in the sights. From the spacious living room, hanging a right from the small foyer led to a small doorway that gave way to a kitchen, just as spacious with plenty of counter space and cabinets. There was almost too much room for a sink, stove, refrigerator and table set. Near the counter was another right that led into a hallway. Two rooms to the right, down toward the back door in the laundry room and a bathroom to the right. Kellen's room was first while the other room was my special room. My "man cave" Amy called it. Really, it just held all the TA-50 I couldn't turn in. Two trunks of Army Combat Uniforms, sets of Physical Training uniforms, small trinkets I had set up on shelves that were installed prior. The ghillie suite I set up on a mannequin made me jump from the other side of the door.

 What she didn't know about... My only secret I kept from her... I opened one of the tough boxes and dug around to a long, two-foot cardboard box, a tied off sock, and a lump wrapped in a towel. I'd have to tell her about this soon. My M-16 A2 rifle was ready to be put together. I loaded my magazine, then I opened the box. The rifle I basically stole. But they gave this to me.

I don't like to talk about what happened in Afghanistan. I won't. That is something I still struggle with. But when I got home, they awarded me a Colt 1911. Engraved along the slide read Specialist Joe Evans, into the wooden grip burned the all too familiar 82 All American crest. Complete with two magazines and my purchase of two boxes of 9mm rounds. I looked at the barrel in the darkness, then over to the rifle, dragged the bolt back, and let it slide forward. I felt it catch for just a moment before pushing a round into the chamber. To be honest, I don't know how I got the rifle. But it must have been after the trip to the sandbox. Regardless, I don't like these memories. I only want them to go away before I have another episode... But the doctors only tell me to get a hobby while taking the meds.

I might have found one.