Did You Hear About... Short Stories to Thrill & Chill

Chuckles - Tim Tobin

At seventy-years old I am tired and alone and desperately lonely. Over the years there have been a few women. Nothing serious ever developed. How could I possibly explain that I am a convicted murderer, guilty as hell, and on the run? I am afraid of what old age will bring. Death certainly, but sickness and perhaps dementia as well. Who will care for me? Who will care at all? The question on my mind lately is should I surrender? I would go to jail for the rest of my life, or maybe even be executed but I would no longer be alone and so afraid.

 ***

 I ran on a whim. There was no plan or grand design. A deputy turned his head and I took off, penniless, with no identification and wearing an orange jumpsuit. That was thirty-one years ago. I am still on the run but at least I am free, sort of. Memories of the early days of my freedom are vague but I stole and did worse to stay alive. One thing I had going for me was my trade as a carpenter. Early on I hooked up with a handyman and learned his business and to this day that is how I get by. With no identification or social security number, cash is definitely king. I get paid in cash, and I pay for absolutely everything in cash. I have never had a bank account, have never written a check or used an ATM card. After a few years I had enough money to buy an old clunker. Since then I’ve moved up a bit and now drive a ten-year old Jeep. With no driver’s license I drive very carefully. Generally I have lived in rooms and cheap apartments and, of course, I paid in cash.

 Fear brought me to the mountains of Wyoming. I now live in a shack I made myself in a remote section of a desolate mountain. The good news is that no one has any idea I am here. The bad news is that a hunter, camper or a hiker could discover me at any time. The one-room shack was built using trees from the forest. I have plenty of supplies to last the winter. My freezer is a box in the woods, stocked with meat kept frozen by the winter cold and ice. Canned fruit and vegetables make up the rest of my diet. Occasionally I drive into the nearest town for supplies. Money is not a problem. I have money saved and hidden in the forest. There is a gas generator that I use from time to time, but mostly I depend on lanterns for light and my fireplace for heat.

 Rugged? You bet. Moving back into a town is an option. My money would last me for a few years in a town. Up here, it will last forever. At seventy-one I can still fix almost anything, but my days on roofs are over. So, that brings me back to the question of whether or not to surrender.

 Today, it was cold and it snowed a lot. Tonight, I have straight bourbon in hand and am standing on the front stoop of my shack. Nothing more than a big rock, really. My clothes are warm and the bourbon warms my insides. The forest starts about twenty or thirty yards from my front door and becomes dense quickly. My Jeep is snow bound at the moment sitting next to the shack. I start it every day to keep the battery charged. That nearby town is not so near on foot.

 There are creatures in the forest, large and small. I have seen a couple of bears and the wolves howl someplace nearby. Tonight, the wind has drowned out the sounds of the forest. The view from the stoop is almost black with large white flakes horizontal in the wind. Are there human souls in that black expanse? I wonder. Souls lost on the mountain, given up for dead by family and friends perhaps. Souls that endlessly wander the mountain searching for a way out. Nonsense my head tells me. But my fear and my loneliness conjure up childish ideas.

 I find myself thinking of that night so long ago. Thinking of the rage and the blood. And of her screams. And I remember policemen and handcuffs and a courtroom with a jury of my peers. Guilty! Of course I was. Of course I am. What a relief it would be to walk into a police station. Tell them my real name and go to jail where it is warm and there would be at least a guard to talk to. So, have I decided? No, not yet but I am thinking about it, standing on my stoop in the blowing snow and drinking bourbon.