SEEN

Chapter Two: Faith

With a steaming front end, the rusty pickup truck was towed down the road by good old Uncle Pete. Not only did he run the town's only junkyard, but the only mechanic's shop too. He was a good guy for the most part, but he could get away with charging a little more than was necessary. Afterall, who else was going to fix up people's cars? It's not like they could shop around for the right person the way people do in large cities. You either had Uncle Pete, or you learned to do it yourself. That's how Bernie lost a finger. He got his panties in a twist and next thing you know; he's screaming down the road in an ambulance to the nearest hospital 20 miles out of town.

But I digress. The point is, Uncle Pete towed the truck, and I hopped in the passenger seat for a free ride. He was listening to some jazz music; saxophones ran rampant in the car alongside some snazzy trumpets. Kicking my feet to the music, I tried my best to engage in a conversation with the older man. I asked about his big old Pitbull, about his grandkids, and dare I say it, about his secret corn bread recipe. Of course, I got no reply, but one of these days I was certain he'd finally cough up that recipe of his. It was only a matter of time, and I was incredibly persistent.

As the music continued to play, I let my mind wander to the first time I'd met Uncle Pete. I'd been three years old at the time and dressed up like a ladybug. Uncle Pete went all out for Halloween, decorating his shop with ginormous spiders, the wickedest of witches, and a replica of an anatomically accurate werewolf. It scared the socks off all the other kids, but I wasn't like other kids. My focus was on the prize at the end of the terrifying journey. Forcing myself through the terrifying field of creatures, I came face to face with Uncle Pete. He was younger then, no grey hair to show his age, and no thinning beard either. He was so excited that a youngster such as myself had mustered up the courage to face his house of horrors that he gave me the entire bowl of candy.

"You know, Uncle Pete, I can help you out this year. You could have a real-life ghost in your house of horrors. You only have to pay me in Snickers," I joked, nudging him with my elbow. Eyes locked on the road, Uncle Pete gave a big huff and guided the tow truck into the tow yard. Skeletons of cars lay about, some missing doors, others missing windshields, all of them inhabited by spiders and snakes. It was a strange environment that looked both abandoned and well lived in. As off putting as it was, and as much as it was riddled with tetanus, I'd always been drawn to the tow yard. It felt like I belonged there with all the other abandoned things in life.

Passing through the passenger door, I watched Uncle Pete slowly remove the truck from his tow bed. Chains creaked and groaned, a touch of rust snapping and dissipating in the air. With a final shudder, the damaged pick up came to rest in front of the shop. Dust kicked up as its tires kissed the ground and Pete's tow truck revved across the dirt into the garage. A set of lights flicked on inside casting a warm glow on the pickup.

My dad used to say that you could tell a lot about someone based on their car. Given the truck in front of me, I had to guess that the lady driving was relatively broke, grew up in the country, and had daddy issues. Taking a quick walk around the truck, I noticed chipped paint here and there, a taped taillight, and better yet a flat spare tire in the truck bed. This lady was definitely broke. Shaking my head, I slipped into the passenger seat. I wasn't sure what I was hoping to find, but I was surprised to find nothing lying out in the open. Despite having such a crumby exterior, the interior of the truck was rather nice. The leather was worn but clean and there wasn't a speck of dust to be seen on the dashboard.

"Damn. She couldn't make it easy on me, could she?" Sighing, I grudgingly decided to do something I wasn't particularly fond of. Interacting with the mortal world happened on accident at times, like it couldn't decide if I was dead or not. Other times, I could force myself through the shroud that separated the living from the dead. It took a lot of effort depending on the task. I'd gotten good at small things like stealing remote batteries or misplacing someone's car keys. Opening an entire glove compartment and looking through whatever was inside would be one hell of a task.