As the money floated away from Crease and down the Platte river, the money untouched and still in the zipped bank bag had been placed in a cheap Wal mart sealable tub which was just big enough to hold the bag and its monetary contents of nearly ten thousand dollars, began to sink from sight with the ebb and flow of the dark muddy fast flowing water. Crease then sat down on the large flat rock where he had just stood to throw the spoils of a very uncharacteristic decision that had been made only a few hours earlier and acted on impulsively due to a very hard string of recent bad luck. Attempting to sit and plan his next steps, Crease brushed the loose rocks and twigs off the large flat river rock, the thoughts of the course of events started to flow into his head without effort as he stared into the rolling dark river water.
Shadows lengthened and the sun continued its unending daily route as it slipped down to the horizons edge. The speed of the water started to slow down as Crease’s subconscious moved into over drive and then rewind, seemingly one point stood out plainly as the beginning of his turn of events, allowing the memory to draw him deeper into the day dream. The absence of color in the murky water appeared to change and blend within itself as a single spot in the river just off shore turned itself into a moving picture, Crease just simply let it happen as he hung on to the edges of the rock, as his mind forced his body to relax as it played the last couple of days out in his memory.
Crease’s bad luck had started only a couple of days ago, but in the finite clock of life a couple of days seemed like an eternity to someone that until recently knew the direction his life was going, as the cycle of life goes with its ups and downs. Losing his job at the nursing home where he had been at for over five years had only been the first of several rapid blows to the thirty-nine year old ego. As he drove home from his job lose Crease had attempted to call his fiancé, who was soon to be his wife in just over two months after months of planning the perfect wedding for her to remember, but she had failed to answer his phone calls. “Hmm, that’s not like her. I hope she won’t be to shook up over this incident, cause I’m already not handling this well.”
The drive home was short enough only to end in seeing his brothers red Ford Ranger parked in the drive way. Well that explains why she didn’t answer her phone; Steve and her must be out back talking. Being the typical joker that he was, thinking it would be easier to break the bad news to her. He now wanted to surprise Shelly and his brother Steve before getting her alone, Crease slipped in the front door quietly to scare his lovely fiancé and his brother before he announced his presence. Stepping in through the front door Crease stopped and listened for the sound of the location of the conversation between the love of his life Shelly and Steve who was not only his brother but his best friend as well. Unable to determine the location of a conversation Crease stepped further into the house as quiet as he could, but the sounds he begun to pick up weren’t from the kitchen or dining room like he expected. The sounds seemed to be coming from the upstairs and they weren’t of a conversation but only of Shelly telling Steve to keep doing something. Crease made his way about half way up the stairs before the sounds and stresses of his fiancés voice became clear as to what was causing them, he had heard them before but only he had been the one in the room with her.
Realizing that his brother and fiancé were in a very compromising position and from the sounds of action obviously didn’t expect to be interrupted anytime soon, since Crease wasn’t due home for another six hours or so, had caused his stomach to tighten and pull itself even further down towards his toes. Crease began to shake and sweat as a multitude of emotions started to boil and fume around his brain with anger emerging as the lead candidate before the explosion that was now eminent to happen. A decision had now been made in his brain, a decision that his sub conscious seemed to control over his conscious mind without its knowledge. Creases vision seemed to draw back from a full screen view as his body worked itself on autopilot, slipping from the stairs and back down to the hall closet where he kept the 9mm handgun and ammunition Shelly had got him last year for his birthday. Crease didn’t understand how he had gotten suddenly back up the stairs and at the bedroom door before regaining control over his body.
A voice that Crease didn’t recognize seemed to come from everywhere at once and within his own head all at once could be heard plainly and was very compelling to follow. You wussy, they weren’t concerned about your feelings or repercussions of what they did. Now man up and make them pay for not thinking about you or what you would do if you ever found out about their little love affair. From outside on the street the sound of two quick gunshots were heard by neighbors followed about 30 seconds later by the squeal of tires from a car as a few of them opened their cell phones to report what they had just heard to the local authorities.
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The voice had continued to talk to and tell Crease what he should do over the next couple of hours as he followed its instructions to the letter. Crease had gone into the Wal Mart and picked up the items the voice had told him to get while no longer wanting to fight the voices control, Crease seemed to relax and just do as the voice instructed. When he had first heard the voice back at his bedroom door it seemed like he had just started a ride on an amusement park roller coaster ride but now it was like he was a willing participant on a slow farris wheel journey that just didn’t seem to quite. Following the voice’s instructions to the letter Crease then journeyed to the bank and withdrew all of the money from the accounts him and his now deceased fiancé had collected over the last year to spend on their honeymoon to the Bahamas.
Pulling from the parking lot of the bank, the sound of another voice caused Crease to slam on his brakes and stop his vehicle in traffic. Creaseie, what the hell do you think you’re doing? The voice had seemed to of yelled as it sounded as if it came from between his own ears and echo through the stereo speakers within the car itself. You just killed your fiancé and your own brother in cold blood because they were having sexual relations behind your back. Shame on you, your grandmother would be ashamed of you. The sound of a multitude of car horns snapped Crease back into reality as the voice slipped to a whisper in his eardrums it told him what he now needed to do.
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The sound of sirens seemed to come from behind Crease as he continued to sit on the large flat river rock. Creases sub-conscious had now allowed him to think over the result of all of his actions over the last few hours as the sound of sirens continued to grow steadily louder while the now insistent flash of police lights could be seen in the parking lot behind him. Looking down stream for any sign of the long tide swamped tube, Crease pulled the small notepad he kept in his front shirt pocket and scribbled a few lines before laying the now closed pen and pad beside him.
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As the officers waited on their superiors to get to the scene of the shooting, the shooting officer kicked the hand-gun from the suspects now dead hand, he saw the small note pad near the now collecting pool of blood. Picking it up he read its contents silently and slowly shook his head in disbelief.
Dear Officer,
Do not hold yourself responsible for these actions but I cannot live knowing what I have done recently, which I’m sure is why you are here to find me. I do not have the courage or foolishness to do this myself, so I will need your assistance. Sadly Officer, I will have to make sure you help me follow through with this.
Unfortunately yours,
Crease
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