The Purging of Bridges Valley

Chapter 2

Marilyn Orourke began to wonder when her husband would come home around three o'clock. By then he had been gone for eight hours and she needed him to fix the gutters and take the trash into town. Mickey, their six year old coonhound, was waiting eagerly on the porch for him to return so that he could sit in the passenger seat of the pickup and lean his head out the window, like he always did.

It wasn't until six that she started to become worried. She stood looking out on their yard from the kitchen, a wet dish towel clutched in her hands. Dinner was slowly cooling on the table, and Mickey sat sullen in his bed in the corner of the living room. It was just not like her husband to be out all day like this. How long did it take to repair a lawnmower anyway? Mr. Morse and Walt weren't very close friends to begin with, so she doubted that he was chatting with the man for this long. Perhaps Mr. Morse was lonely since Emily died and was enjoying her husband's company, or maybe he'd been invited to dinner. That's what she'd been telling herself all day, but something didn't feel quite right. Walt wasn't one to waste a day and leave her alone for so long, especially without calling her and letting her know.

Marilyn lived alone with her husband, their two kids having moved out of the house some years ago. She'd been with the man for nearly thirty eight years now and she knew him better than he knew himself. When she'd asked him to help Morse, she knew he did not want to go. She knew what he thought of the man. But still, she thought it would be good for Joseph to talk to someone. No one had spoken to him in so long that she was also curious as to what he'd been doing on the farm.

When she'd seen Joseph at the market, he had looked haggard and tired, his face unshaven and grey. It was odd that he approached her in the first place, come to think of it. She'd never spoken directly with him before, only in the presence of his wife. He was a man of few words. But when he'd seen her yesterday, he had walked up and made small talk like they were old friends catching up on life. He had asked her about her kids, if they still lived with her. He had asked if it was just her and Walt living in their big old house. He asked her if they had any plans for the weekend, just basic conversation. At first she'd been pleasantly surprised, but now she felt a growing sense of anxiety. Had Jospeh even bought anything from the market? He left directly after speaking with her and she didn't remember him carrying any bags out.

A chill ran up Marilyn's spine. She had a bad feeling, and she knew to trust her gut. When her youngest Caroline broke her ankle walking home from a friend's house at night several winters ago, she had sensed something was wrong and immediately searched for her, only to find her at the bottom of a ditch in pain and half frozen. When her son Jacob started experiencing throat pains as a toddler she knew immediately to take him to the hospital, later finding out he had a severe case of epiglottis and could have died had she not acted. Now, she sensed her husband was in danger. Danger from what she was unsure.

"That's it," she said aloud, crossing the kitchen and sweeping up the phone with shaking hands. She quickly dialed Joseph's number and was promptly answered by a tin-like woman's voice.

"We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again."

"God dammit!" she cried, slamming the phone down so hard it glanced off the counter and slid onto the tile. She rarely ever blasphemed, but she was so anxious and filled with dread that she did not care. As she pulled on her shawl and slipped on her shoes, she prayed for her husband.

The Morse farm was a short distance across from their property and Walt had walked. Marilyn slipped the truck keys off from the hook next to the door and whistled for Mickey, who eagerly bounded over at the first key jingle. It was nearly dark now, so she grabbed a flashlight from the hall drawer and made her way down the porch steps. The night air was muggy and dense, and crickets were out in numbers by the sound of things. Mickey trotted along and waited for her to open the cabin of the truck before leaping in and settling on the passenger seat. Marilyn fired up the truck and sped down the driveway, her heart rapidly beating in her chest. She could never have imagined what she was about to stumble on.