Red October Skies

Forward

 The the rain chilled the air, making it heavy with the oppression of the coming autumn. The leaves not yet changed but anyone with a soul could feel it slowly creeping into the now, its scent prominent as the moon ascended above the Petrol gas station where Wesley Lemmett waited for his unassociated father to pick him up. His father properly gained custody of his son who was being tossed around like slab of meat; bruised, bloodied, and raw. To be truthful Wesley just wanted to get away from it all, from the yelling, from the battles, from the hell. He didn't care anymore. If his father didn't want him he wouldn't be hurt by it, he would move on. After a while of hurt, that's what you do. That's why he enjoyed the bus ride up to Dodgeline, it gave him space from everything that was going on and in those long hours not even his parents lawyers could touch him. In those short precious moments he was free and then he stood waiting to be thrown into it all yet again. Every so often a car would whiz by, splashing up the water from the road and making Wess take an involuntary step forward in anticipation for the arrival. Yet time and time again there would be no turning signal to proceed to the extraction of the cold wet boy, just the undertoning Vrrrmmm which carried off long after the car would leave from his sight.

Wess checked the time, his phone read 11:43. His father was two hours late and it wasn't like Wess could even go back inside because the station had closed thirteen minutes ago. The conditions started to express his growing emotions swirling inside him as the seconds passed. All he wanted was just one to car pull in. Even a concerned late night worker heading into Dodgeline to head home to tuck in his two splendid kids and see his adoring wife but no, no one was coming and it was in the hands of Wess once again to fend for his own well being and move on. So he started to walk out of the parking lot of the Petrol station and down the road to Dodgeline.

As he walked his shoes sloshed and his clothes pulled down. They stuck to his body as his pack and duffle bag dug into his shoulders, dull pain from the cold grew in his feet and hands. Another vehicle whizzed past him and on to someplace behind Wess, splashed up water into his eyes. The coniferous lined road blurred and regained its dark demeanor. He kept on walking. A few minutes later another vehicle came from behind, the headlights casting the walkers shadow far down the line as he advanced forward. It pulled up beside the boy with a man in his early twenties at the wheel. The engine of the car rumbled, the body shined and sleek black, a 1967 mustang. The window rolled down and a the driver's voice shot out over the sound of the rain hitting the car roof and hood, "You Wesley?" It must of not even been an actual question because he reached over anyways to push open the passenger door.

"Yeah, Wess and who are you?" Wesley put the Pack down in between the two to be a slight barrier.

"I'm Darren, your brother." Darren reached over for a handshake which Wess obliged to. The grip was firm and callused. A genuine oil handed greaser. They went on in silence straight into town and passed shops and houses and small businesses only a proper Mayberry would acquire. Finally the car turned into a driveway, 1836 was nailed to the front door. The house being pretty standard had a bit of work still left on it, not the white picket fence kind of deal but no shack either. Just nothing to remember it by.

The front door creaked as Darren pushed through and motioned Wess into the household, "Welcome, I don't know where dad plans on having you stay so until he gets back you can crash on the couch in the living room." Wess trailed his older counterpart through a kitchen and into an open living space all hardwood and green, "You hungry or thirsty at all?"

"Yeah, a bit." Wess was actually starving, a beast rampaged through his abdomen.

"I think there might be leftover pizza in the fridge." Darren stormed into the kitchen and through the fridge in the hunt for Wesley's dinner. Wess sat down on the green couch that didn't belong to a home makeover magazine of this era, with an overwhelming smell of must and cigarette smoke. The whole place reeked of smoke, it was a chainsmokers playground. And as Darren arrived with a plastic wrapped bundle of heaven and a can of coke that soared to Wesley's unready hands, he was starting to grow ill of it.