Bye The Book

He spotted the big Lincoln right away as if it were calling out to him. Even by his own minimal standards, Willie Blood was a loser. During those brief twilight moments between semi-lucidity and drunken oblivion, memories of his early years brought only night sweats, tremors and restlessness, never granting him merciful sleep. Willie was unable to characterize those times as his childhood. He had never been a child, or at least so it seemed. His mother, who had named him Willingham, had told him that his father wasn’t a bad man, nor was he a good one. He had definitely never been a good father. The old man, whose name always stayed on the other side of the wall that Willie had built in his recollection, ran away when the boy had reached the age of two. Willie’s “Terrible Twos” had been too much for the old guy to take. Willie Blood also had a keen eye for cars, and this one looked familiar. On a Saturday afternoon, the downtown area was a virtual ghost town, and the presence of any vehicle was noteworthy. This particular one, a maroon Lincoln, stood out like a silk ribbon on a garbage can. Willie remembered the car being driven by a classy-looking woman—of course, anyone wearing clean clothes was “classy” to Willie—who had once given him a five-dollar bill on the day before Thanksgiving, telling him to spend it on a good meal. Willie had shown the proper humility, thanked the lady, assuring her that the money would be spent on food, and ran to the nearest store where he bought a bottle of wine and a bag of Fritos. Well, at least some of the money had been spent on food. This lady had even opened her purse to retrieve the paper bearing Lincoln’s image. A Lincoln from the lady in the Lincoln. She seemed unusually trusting, but that was fine with Willie. As he got closer to the car from behind, he could see a shock of blond hair erupting beyond the headrest. That lady was a blonde. Maybe she’d be generous again if he asked. What the hell, nothing ventured… What was she doing all alone in this deserted part of a deserted downtown on a Saturday? Not that it mattered. Asking for and receiving a few bucks from this kindly lady was what he really cared about. A sixth sense that he had developed in all his years roaming the streets tugged at his brain as he approached the car. Goosebumps covered his arms, and a voice in his head told him to get away from there, fast. But the dryness that had overtaken the inside of his mouth told him that he needed to get enough money to buy some more wine very soon. Zack Street was a one-way and the car had been parked on the left side of the road, the driver’s side closest to the sidewalk. Willie’s tenuous walk had become little more than a crawl as he got closer to the driver’s door. The window was open and the only visible movement inside the car was the gentle dance a few blond follicles made in response to the breeze’s melody as it blew through the open window. He had managed to get up to the door and found himself staring at the same classy lady who had given him that fin last Thanksgiving. Only now she had two ugly holes in the side of her head, and the inside of the car was spattered with blood and brain tissue. If Willie had had any food in his stomach, he would have thrown up. Sometimes, even hunger can be a blessing. The journey begins... where will it end?