Death Rhythm Read Free

Andy’s ears, making his body twitch. He was cold. He shivered.
    The sheriff holstered his pistol and came back over to Andy. “You can ride back with me if you want, or you can wait for the tow truck. I suggest you come with me, just because my car’s warm, and you look like you could use some warmth. The tow truck will be about twenty minutes.” He nodded over to Andy’s car. “Got a jacket in there?”
    Andy shook his head no. He hadn’t been thinking of jackets or warmth when he left Cathy fifteen hours earlier.
     
    Fifteen hours earlier, the moon had been a white scythe high over the horizon. The farthest things from Andy’s mind were a deer and a smashed up windshield.
    He told her he’d be back. Maybe in a week, maybe a month. He told her he’d understand if she gave up on him.
    Cathy remained silent behind her tears. When Andy bent down and kissed her cheek, she grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed it tightly. The lavender scent of her shampoo filled his nostrils, while tears filled his eyes in a quick, violent rush.
    When he could finally focus again, he looked at Cathy as she lay in bed. He motioned with his hand to say good-bye, unable to smile. He walked out of the apartment building with only a duffel bag and found his car in the underground ramp. Fell into the seat like a zombie, no thoughts going through his head, being pulled along by his own self-loathing.
    He felt detached, like he was watching this from somewhere else. Like he was dreaming.
    He pulled out of the dirty white fluorescence of the ramp and became engulfed by the night’s blackness - the blackness of the alleyway, surrounded by brick buildings that disappeared beyond the stretching point of his neck. Surrounded by the city of Milwaukee.
    He only knew he had to breath once again.
     
    The sheriff’s voice interrupted Andy’s thoughts. “What do you want to do?”
    “Guess I’ll tag along with you.” He grabbed his duffel bag and threw it in the back of the patrol car, sliding in next to it. The sheriff slowly pulled away from the side of the highway. Andy glanced back at his stranded vehicle and watched it diminish over the horizon.
    He was in Minnesota, but didn’t remember crossing over the border.
    Minnesota. It seemed like there was something about Minnesota he should’ve remembered. Something his mother once told him.
    Was it some relative who lived here? Seemed to ring a bell. An aunt, wasn’t it? Aunt Mae?
    “Mom, who was Mae?”
    “Mae?”
    “Was she your friend?”
    Andy, twelve years old, had been looking through a junk drawer for some rubber bands and had come across a picture of his mother as a teenager, hugging a younger girl. Actually, it looked as if the younger girl was being asphyxiated by the tremendous bear hug his mom was giving her. Under the picture, it said, “EDNA and MAE.” Edna was his mother’s name.
    “No, she wasn’t a friend.” Edna flicked dish suds off her hands and grabbed a towel.
    “Was she your sister? How come you never mentioned her before?”
    “She’s someone I’d rather forget about.”
    “So she’s your sister?”
    “She wasn’t much of a sister.” Edna paused, looking into the deep blue sea of Andy’s eyes. “Look - as far as I know, she was dead and buried a long time ago.”
    “You don’t know?”
    “I don’t want to talk about this, okay?”
    “But she’s your sister,” Andy said. “Where is she?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Where is this place?” he asked, holding up the picture.
    Edna’s eyes glazed over. “Ellingston.” She spoke in a monotone. "Ellingston, Minnesota, where I - ” She paused.
    “Where you what?”
    She snatched the picture out of Andy’s hand and tore it in half. “Where I grew up,” she said.
     
    Andy was curious.
    “Are we very far from Ellingston?”
    “About twenty miles. Why?” The sheriff glanced back at Andy for a moment, and then turned his eyes back to the road.
    “I think I have an aunt who lives