COUCH MATINEES

The branches of the trees swayed in the wind as Lee wondered how he had gotten himself into this situation.

He lived a quiet life. Working as a toll-taker along the interstate was a solitary life. The passing motorists hardly acknowledged his existence as he stood in his little box accepting their ticket and fare day after day.

He would smile, and occasionally one of them might utter a meaningless “Good morning”, but nothing more. Most people interact with others at their job. Lee had one of those careers (ha, a career as a toll-taker, what an oxymoron that was), that had no road to success. The best he could do was secure the coveted 8:00 am – 4:00 pm shift. It was the busiest shift of the day and on it, the time flew by and the day ended quickly.

As Lee took a step, the snap of the branch underfoot caused a covey of quail to scatter from their resting place in a nearby meadow. The sound of their taking off caused Lee to stop in his tracks.

He knew that any stray sound could be his undoing and reminded himself to watch where he stepped.

As his eyes opened, it took Lee a few second to remember where he was. Looking around the room he noticed things that had escaped him the evening before. The paintings on the wall, the figurines on the dresser. This room was bigger then his parents entire house.

Lee rode Sheik hard for about a mile but did not think he was taxing the horse, so was surprised when, all of a sudden the horse stopped and began shaking violently. Lee climbed down and almost immediately the horse collapsed. Getting down on one knee, it did not take long to tell that Sheik was dead. Foam forming at it’s mouth.

Looking at his watch, Lee was still unaware that this was more than a game of “hide and seek.” He grabbed the rope, ax and small folding shovel he found in the saddlebag and began walking further into the woods. His mind was focused on the money and car he knew he could win by just avoiding an old man and his servant.

Detective Steve Cooper thought his eyes were doing tricks on him. Sure he had seen the character Regan do it in “The Exorcist”, but to see a body live; the chest against the floor and the shoulder blades facing upward…with the head turned 180 degrees, the dead eyes staring up at him, pleading for justice, was almost too much for the 30 year veteran of the Homicide Squad to take.

He turned away from the sight to see through the window, the C.S.I. team climbing from their van. “Let them figure our how someone could snap a neck and turn it around so perfectly.”

Bart Nance did not relish the thought of opening his eyes and looking over at the clock on the nightstand.

The dream had awoken him in a panic. His eyes opened anyway and they watched as the digital time changed to 12:29. What he did not know is if that were AM or PM. The room was in total darkness.

Totally confused by the dream which had woken him, he felt as if he were in a cocoon lying there in his bed. The covers were pulled up over his chin and he lay on his back and closed his eyes.

“SPIKE THE BALL!!” Coach Hutchinson was screaming from the sidelines.

It was the fourth quarter, 1:00 left in the game and his team down by 5 points to State. His team was on a drive that had begun on their own 20 and now saw them with the ball only 15 yards from winning the game.

The previous play had been a draw and without any timeouts, they needed to stop the clock. His quarterback Alex Stern had played the sloppiest game of his four year career and Coach was furious that Stern was acting like he had a 20 point lead.

The fog rolled across the highway obscuring the lines down the center and along the edge. White fingers grasped the steering wheel willing it to stay centered in the lane and not to wander. Eyes stared straight ahead trying to make out the next 10 feet of roadway and hoping to not see anything unknown.

Why had you decided to leave this late? What compelled you to think you could make the drive after hearing the weather? Well who listens to the weatherman anyway these days? The only job where you can be wrong more then a weatherman and not be fired is in direct response where a 5% success rate is considered excellent.