Free The Hole by William Meikle Page B

enough for you, Fred,” the barman said. “Go home and sleep it off.”
    Fred laughed hollowly.
    “I ain’t got no home to go to,” he shouted, too loud in the quiet bar. “Damned hole sucked it right up.” He dropped his head to rest it on the table. “Sucked her right up,” he whispered.
    The bar patrons, realizing that no more outbursts were forthcoming, went back to their conversations. Fred suddenly ached for company…blonde company. He closed his eyes, but immediately opened them again, his mind full of visions of a fair mop of hair falling, deeper and deeper, screaming into the dark.
    He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to stare into Charlie’s concerned face. The older man looked suddenly sober.
    “Tell me, son. Tell me everything.”
    That was all it took. Fred started to speak, and the whole story came out in a rush of words and bitter tears.
    “They were there, Charlie,” he said near the end. “At least one of them was there. I felt him, saw him move the glass, sure as eggs is eggs.”
    Charlie was quiet for long seconds.
    “There ain’t no such things as ghosts, lad,” he said. “You know that.”
    Fred nodded.
    “Before tonight I’d have said the same thing. But I know what I saw, Charlie. And I ain’t about to unsee it.”
    Charlie handed him another JD and sucked smoke before answering.
    “I saw plenty of things back in ‘Nam I ain’t never gonna forget,” he said. “Saw plenty of men, good and bad, die horrible, messy deaths. And not one of them ever came back. Packets of blood and shit; that’s all we are, son. Ain’t no sense in thinking otherwise.”
    Fred didn’t reply. The events of the night were starting to fade as the booze finally took hold, but he couldn’t allow himself to give in to its seduction, not tonight.
    Not when I ain’t got nowhere to go when the bar closes.
    * * *
    Bill Wozniak arrived some time later. He walked straight over to Fred and Charlie. Fred winced and kept his head down. The sheriff had been the one that took the call the night of Fred’s accident. The big man had cut Fred a break that night and helped out with some creative writing of the official report. That was enough to keep him out of jail, but Fred still felt uncomfortable around the officer, fearing that the favor might be called in at any moment.
    “You sober, Charlie?” the sheriff said. “I need a bus driver and we’re coming up short.”
    “Sure thing,” Charlie said, tried to stand and staggered into Fred. The sheriff raised an eyebrow. Charlie straightened up.
    “I stood up a mite too fast there, Sheriff. But I’ll be fine.”
    The older man threw a mock salute, and staggered slightly again.
    The sheriff sighed, but handed Charlie a bundle of heavy keys.
    “These are Joe’s for his school bus,” he said. “We ain’t found Joe.”
    He didn’t say any more, but Fred saw it in his eyes. Joe was another one who he wouldn’t be seeing again anytime soon.
    Charlie took the keys, dropped them, and almost fell on his face trying to pick them up.
    “I got no right letting you near a vehicle in that state,” the sheriff said. “But this is an emergency. Get some coffee in you, fast. We’re moving out and taking the wounded and the kids first. Bring her to the church hall in twenty. And Fred?”
    Fred looked up.
    “I’m trusting you to make sure he gets that bus down to where it’s needed. Okay?”
    Fred nodded, although the last thing he felt like doing was heading out into the dark.
    Looks like that favor has just been called in.
    * * *
    Main Street was as busy as he’d ever seen it. Several of the stores were open for business, and people with laden trolleys filled cars and pickups. It looked like folks were preparing for the apocalypse.
    And maybe that ain’t too far from the truth of the matter.
    Even with all the commotion in and around the stores, it was hard to imagine the scale of the tragedy that had unfolded, and might still be ongoing, over at the