Clouded Rainbow by Jonathan Sturak Page A

it was a mixture of pain, rage, and bewilderment. Cars zipped by, people walked, as the clunker squealed with each turn. Roger kept the gas floored and focused on balancing the car down the road, something he never had to do with his stout and perfectly engineered SUV. The car had horrible body sway, reacting to a turn like a soapbox car with skateboard-sized wheels.
    Roger glanced at his wrist, but the scribbled street address only taunted him. A shopping district came into view with grocery stores and fast-food restaurants. Roger scanned the area. A horn suddenly blared. Two headlights blinded him. Roger refocused his drifting attention.
    Up ahead, a small ice cream shop stood under the darkening sky. The sign out front in bright lights read “Scoopers.” A group of kids burst from a soccer mom’s mini-van as Roger widened his eyes.
    “I know this place,” he mumbled.
    It was his favorite dessert spot. The rear of the business had an eighteen-hole miniature golf course, and he and Lois would frequently enjoy a Saturday evening game of golf in the summer. After Lois’ usual win, both indulged in their favorite treat—two scoops of chocolate chip cookie dough in a dish.
    Our house is close.
    Roger wished he was driving back home on one of those summer nights with Lois by his side. He smiled as the memories flourished in his mind, and then he glanced to the right. Instead of seeing the image of Lois in colorful capris and a blouse, he saw duct tape covering the puke-green vinyl seat. Roger gripped the wheel tighter and said, “I’ll be home soon.”
     
     
     
    8
     
     
    The Belkin house sat under the freshly dark sky. The lights in most of the surrounding homes shined brightly through their drawn curtains. The suburban neighborhood was peaceful around this time as kids were off the streets doing their homework or playing video games, and those that were going out for the evening had already left.
    Like a gust of wind, the roar of a muffler-less vehicle pierced the tranquility. Its misaimed headlights pointed toward the Belkin home. Inside, a grin covered Roger’s face, as he maneuvered the tired horse toward his castle. The familiar landmarks reminded him of a return trip home from a long day’s work. He was always eager to get home to see his wife, who took the stressors of the world away. This particular trip was his most anticipated. It didn’t matter that he had no idea why he woke up half-dead, or without any clothes, or, most importantly, without Lois. He hoped that all of his questions would be answered when he pulled into his driveway.
    Finally, Roger saw his towering house sitting as he always remembered it. He was glad to see something familiar, an environment in which he felt safe. The driveway was bare and all of the lights were off.
    No SUV , he thought.
    Roger aimed for the driveway, but the vehicle didn’t respond as he expected. He popped the curb and the shoddy brakes left the car halfway on the lawn. The noise was probably enough to wake the whole street, but all he thought was, Thank God I’m home.
    Roger used his shoulder to open the stubborn door. The force caused him to spill to the ground. He took a moment to collect himself, as his aching muscles overwhelmed his focus.
    The front door stood closed in darkness as Roger stumbled toward it. Even though the lights were out, he hoped that Lois would whisk open the door and bring him in to clean his wounds. However, she did not appear. Roger realized he had to go in alone. He gave the doorknob a twist, but it was locked. He suddenly felt trapped, locked out of his own home and his old life. A weird out-of-body feeling came over him as he felt as if he were an imposter. He thought that maybe the real Roger was inside, and he would soon open the door to bark at this masquerading bum.
    Roger suddenly remembered the fail-safe key he and Lois had hidden, but the exact details were tough for him to recall. Things like this were the first deleted