A Short Story Collection

The Next Nick Chapter

Based off of The Nick Adams Stories of Ernest Hemingway.

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A man slouched on the wet ground. It was cold out. His body wracked with something. Nick knelt beside the man. His hand extended to rest on the man's shoulder. It was his fault, yet again. He had failed, yet again. He had panicked. Too much in too little time, but the man didn't know this. He restrained the urge to look for signs again. It would not change anything.

He patted the man's shoulder. He watched as the man spread his coat over the space beside him. Nick stood. He needed to tell the team to take it away. He walked to the large vehicle behind him.

"Gone." He said to the crew gathered there.

They nodded and began to put away their tools. This time, they would only need a cadaver pouch. Nick returned to the kneeling form. Something glinted in the grass. He knelt, picking it up.

"This fell from her pocket." Nick said. He extended his hand. The man raised his head. His once-young face had aged. His eyes flicked the object held there. The man said nothing.

Slowly, a tired hand reached out and took the ornament. Two glass lovers sat frozen on a bank, fishing rod hanging into nothing. The skies darkened as Anubis sent clouds to blot out Ra's westward journey. Trembles broke the fragile thing. The man set the shards in the browned grass. He rose from the early gravesite to make way for the crew. How cruel, Nick thought. He watched as the laden litter was transferred into the back of the vehicle. High whining quieted as flashing cars began to pull away. He gathered the pieces dropped in the grass in a bag. The man climbed in after the rest of the team. He stopped them before they pulled the doors closed.

"I'm not staying." Nick said. Nick climbed in and approached the man.

He handed the shards to him.

"Thank-you." The man said.

Guilt warred in him. Should he tell him? Nick turned away.

"I understand." Nick said, more to himself than anyone.

Nick got out of the vehicle and turned to close the doors. The man dumped the shards out into his palms and squeezed, holding his hands to his heart. Blood welled. Someone yelped and tried to get him to drop the offending pieces. The man turned away from the futile attempts. The light in the vehicle flickered as shadowed arms seemed to twist and poke at the still forms inside.

Nick closed the doors, latching them, and walked away.

You did the right thing, Nick, a voice said. A voice from his past. His only companion.

"No."

Yes. He'll continue on knowing every attempt was made.

"A lie." Nick said to the night.

A white one, the voice said.

"I did not mean for this to happen."

What's past is past. Forget it.

"I want to."

You're doing the right thing. His stomach flopped like a dying fish.

"But I can't."

Then go tell him if you must. Visit the town coroner. He'll be there.

Nick said nothing.

But you'll be digging yourself a deeper hole.

"I will go." The guilt lessened a fraction.

Don't say I didn't warn you, the voice slithered.

Nick said nothing. He walked home.