have used again, anyway.
With tears in his eyes, both at his failure, and at the horror he had seen, Billy backed his truck away from the house, and headed home.
He swore right then and there that he wouldn’t come back. He couldn’t do no more for Widow George.
He had to look after himself now.
*****
Once home, Billy went immediately and took a long, hot shower. As he stood beneath the shower head, the image at Widow George’s house played over and over in his mind, terrorizing him all over again.
Billy had never had an encounter like that. When his parents had died, he had been distraught, but their bodies had been cleaned and dressed at the funeral home before Billy ever saw them. He had not had to endure the trauma of seeing them immediately after the accident.
Both of Billy’s parent’s had been only children. He had no close relatives that he knew of anywhere. As a result, the loss of his parents had been his first real world loss, other than favorite pets as a boy, and one horse that had been injured in a fall and had to be put down.
The first weeks after his parents had died had been very hard for Billy. He was used to having them around, depended on them to help him see things clearly. Fortunately, his parents had prepared him well for the time when they would no longer be with him. They hadn’t anticipated him losing both of them at once, nor so early, but both his mother and father were realists. They knew that anything could happen, at any time, and had worked hard to ensure that Billy would be able to survive on his own without them. Had they not done so, Billy would have been in dire straits after the plague.
Billy shut off the hot water, allowing the cold to keep pouring over him. The water helped to calm him, as he fought to get the horrible images out of his mind. This had been a very long day, and it had been trying for him in many ways. He breathed deeply as the water flowed, feeling his calm slowly returning to him.
Calm was always Billy’s watchword. He knew that he was easily frustrated and easily distracted. He couldn’t allow that. Not anymore. He shut the water off, finally. Leaving the shower, he dressed in clean clothes. He looked at the clothes he had discarded, and decided to dispose of them. Right away.
He gathered them up, careful to wear gloves, and took them outside. The waning light was just enough for him to see the burning barrel he kept a good distance from the house, and he walked straight to it, and dumped the clothes without a thought as soon as he made sure the pockets were empty.
It was supper time, but Billy didn’t have an appetite, and something told him he wouldn’t keep the food down regardless. So instead, he fixed himself some lemonade and sat on the front porch for a long while that evening, listening to the crickets and the night birds, and watching fireflies in the distance. He breathed long and deep, enjoying the cooler air now that night was upon him.
Finally, when he was so very tired that he could barely keep his eyes open, Billy went to bed. Rommel trotted into the bedroom behind him, jumping onto the large bed. The dog watched Billy closely, as if he knew something was bothering his person. He didn’t know what it was, but it was enough that he could sense Billy’s unease.
Billy was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, but rest was elusive that night. His dreams were haunted by images of Widow George, asking him why he hadn’t buried her proper, of bodies in cars along the road, crying in anguish that they were not moved, and of blind panic and sheer terror at the images.
CHAPTER SIX
Billy was awakened the next morning by the constant honking of a car horn. It was unfortunate that it came during a part of his nightmare about the cars along the roadway. He sat bolt upright in his bed, sweating profusely, looking around him in panic.
It took him a minute to realize that he had been dreaming. Then he
With tears in his eyes, both at his failure, and at the horror he had seen, Billy backed his truck away from the house, and headed home.
He swore right then and there that he wouldn’t come back. He couldn’t do no more for Widow George.
He had to look after himself now.
*****
Once home, Billy went immediately and took a long, hot shower. As he stood beneath the shower head, the image at Widow George’s house played over and over in his mind, terrorizing him all over again.
Billy had never had an encounter like that. When his parents had died, he had been distraught, but their bodies had been cleaned and dressed at the funeral home before Billy ever saw them. He had not had to endure the trauma of seeing them immediately after the accident.
Both of Billy’s parent’s had been only children. He had no close relatives that he knew of anywhere. As a result, the loss of his parents had been his first real world loss, other than favorite pets as a boy, and one horse that had been injured in a fall and had to be put down.
The first weeks after his parents had died had been very hard for Billy. He was used to having them around, depended on them to help him see things clearly. Fortunately, his parents had prepared him well for the time when they would no longer be with him. They hadn’t anticipated him losing both of them at once, nor so early, but both his mother and father were realists. They knew that anything could happen, at any time, and had worked hard to ensure that Billy would be able to survive on his own without them. Had they not done so, Billy would have been in dire straits after the plague.
Billy shut off the hot water, allowing the cold to keep pouring over him. The water helped to calm him, as he fought to get the horrible images out of his mind. This had been a very long day, and it had been trying for him in many ways. He breathed deeply as the water flowed, feeling his calm slowly returning to him.
Calm was always Billy’s watchword. He knew that he was easily frustrated and easily distracted. He couldn’t allow that. Not anymore. He shut the water off, finally. Leaving the shower, he dressed in clean clothes. He looked at the clothes he had discarded, and decided to dispose of them. Right away.
He gathered them up, careful to wear gloves, and took them outside. The waning light was just enough for him to see the burning barrel he kept a good distance from the house, and he walked straight to it, and dumped the clothes without a thought as soon as he made sure the pockets were empty.
It was supper time, but Billy didn’t have an appetite, and something told him he wouldn’t keep the food down regardless. So instead, he fixed himself some lemonade and sat on the front porch for a long while that evening, listening to the crickets and the night birds, and watching fireflies in the distance. He breathed long and deep, enjoying the cooler air now that night was upon him.
Finally, when he was so very tired that he could barely keep his eyes open, Billy went to bed. Rommel trotted into the bedroom behind him, jumping onto the large bed. The dog watched Billy closely, as if he knew something was bothering his person. He didn’t know what it was, but it was enough that he could sense Billy’s unease.
Billy was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, but rest was elusive that night. His dreams were haunted by images of Widow George, asking him why he hadn’t buried her proper, of bodies in cars along the road, crying in anguish that they were not moved, and of blind panic and sheer terror at the images.
CHAPTER SIX
Billy was awakened the next morning by the constant honking of a car horn. It was unfortunate that it came during a part of his nightmare about the cars along the roadway. He sat bolt upright in his bed, sweating profusely, looking around him in panic.
It took him a minute to realize that he had been dreaming. Then he
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