The Horror in Smithville - Part Nine

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[caption id="attachment_2489" align="aligncenter" width="500"] The Horror in Smithville[/caption]

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 Welcome back My Dear Readers to The Other Shoe. As well, a big and heartfelt welcome to Part Nine of ‘The Horror in Smithville’! The past two weeks have been fraught with problems and hindrances, keeping me from publishing. All of my works have suffered, as have all of you, My Dear Readers. Two weeks ago, I was without a working air conditioner in my apartment.

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Let me tell you, 83 degree to 90 degree temperatures are not conducive to writing. At least they are not for me, in my current medical condition. As well, as I might have mentioned previously, I am working (writing, editing and publishing) on a notebook laptop computer that is well over ten years old. I hesitate turning this computer on if it is over 70 degrees in the room. Heat is the #1 reason for computer deaths. Since I bought this computer I have never operated it when the room is that hot. I am not about to start now, and loose the only computer I have to write!

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Last week, the air conditioning was back and working. Yet, my primary blog location was not! Yes, that’s right last week was the week to ten days that I had no access to The Other Shoe at blog dot com. This is the very first Thursday, in two weeks, that I have been able to write and publish. Therefore, you My Dear Readers get to rejoin Timmy and Archer in their adventures in Smithville. The other day I had a question from one of my newer readers. “Is there a Smithville? Did you grow up in a Smithville?” Some might think that is two questions, actually it is only one.

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Yes, I did grow up in a ‘Smithville’. It was called Pearland, but it was a Smithville by any modern day standard. The classes were very small; we were a small town off a main road coming out of Houston. We lived in the shadow of a major city, but we were about as rural as you can get. Now, My Dear Readers, I am very grateful to have grown up (at least part of my childhood) in Pearland. Say what you may about small towns, Pearland was made up of good and caring folks.

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My family moved from Houston out to Pearland when I was in the fourth grade. I spent all of elementary school, middle school, and high school in Pearland. Honestly, I wouldn’t trade that time of my life for anything in the world. I had very good friends, I never went without food… unless I failed to mention I was hungry, and when (in high school) I stepped up on stage… the great people of Pearland showed up in droves and stood on their feet to applaud. I just couldn’t have asked for a better, more polite and entertained, group of people in the whole world. Yet, yes I did grow up outside the big city in a smallish town out off of a ‘Farm to Market’ road. Smithville, for all intents and purposes, is Pearland. Maybe a bit more rural, and a little more removed from our time, but that is where the town comes from… my past.

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Today I have to share, Part Nine of our horror story. As you might imagine, having taken two weeks off from writing, it is taking a bit to get me back into character and back up to the level and speed I was writing, before. I am hoping, that over the coming weeks, I can get back to producing as much content as I did before. Today’s episode is a little shorter than those, before. Today, I came to a great stopping point… and I was overcome with pain and weakness.

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Rather than push myself… and really manage to hurt myself? I decided to stop at the logical stopping point within the writing. FYI I have already started on Part Ten! If all goes well, and I have nothing else ready for publication… I just might publish TWO PARTS of this story, this week. Now, I am not promising anything! I have to let my body… my pain… decide. Right now I am hurting like an old coon dog stuck under the back tire of a tractor.

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I am going to take a pain medication… just as soon as I press the PUBLISH button.

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So, without further adieu, I give you Part NINE of ‘The Horror in Smithville’!

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Part Nine

 

By the time the boys had reached the bus stop, the bus was about 3 miles away. That gave Archer some time to look at Timmy’s left hand. The bite from the zombie wolf had grown. The hand was swollen, yes, but the bite itself had grown and covered more of Timmy’s hand with a dark black circle. The hand itself was nearly twice its normal size and there were black veins radiating out from around the teeth marks. Timmy didn’t look so good, himself.

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Timmy was pale, in color, in his face and arms. Almost like he had been drained of blood. Archer pulled Timmy’s jacket up around his face and over his ears. As Archer’s hands passed Timmy’s face, he felt heat radiating from Timmy’s face. Jeeze! Archer had never felt a fever that hot before in his life. Timmy had to have a fever well over 100 degrees, and he was standing in a foot of snow by the edge of the road. The more Archer thought about it, the more he realized that taking Timmy to school in his current condition was not the best idea.

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Bad idea or not to, there was no turning back now, just as Archer was overcome with regret the school bus stopped directly in front of them. Archer grabbed their backpacks in one arm, Timmy in the other, and he began the process of getting Timmy on the bus and off to school. Ms. Steward, the homeroom and home economics teacher, was there bus driver today. She took one look at Timmy and immediately turn to Archer asking;

 

”Timmy looks like something the tractor ran over and the dog brought inside. Are you sure you should be going to school today Archer?”

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Evidently today was Archer’s day for thinking fast on his feet, because Archer immediately replied.

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“It ain’t nothing Ms. Stewart. Nothing more than eaten too much of his mom’s blueberry cobbler, and us not get in the sleep on time. I’m sure he will be right as rain by lunchtime, you don’t worry yourself none.”

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Now, granted, Archer had done some quick thinking, and speaking, but it was obvious Ms. Steward remained unimpressed. She scoffed under her breath, shook her head, then closed the door of the school bus behind them. Archer looks back, in the bus, and finds a seat near the rear. The bus lurched forward like a great sleeping giant not wanting to make its morning treck on the snow-covered roads. The lurch threw Timmy and Archer forward down the aisle towards the end of the bus. Archer nearly lost his grip on Timmy’s left arm, and narrowly navigated him to a sitting posture in the last seat on the bus.

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Archer threw the backpacks on the floor, at their feet, then collapsed into the bus seat beside Timmy with a huff. He reached over and propped up Timmy against the back walls of the bus and the seat. Once he was sure that Timmy wouldn’t go flying around the bus, the next time Ms. Steward made a hard turn, he settled in to relax a little for the rest of the ride into school. When Timmy and Archer missed a bus, either getting to school or coming home, they regretted living so far out of town. Right now, Archer was mighty glad they did live ‘out in the sticks’ because it gave him time to rest… and think.

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Archer closed his eyes, for just a moment, and thought about just how he was going to get through a whole day at school with Timmy in his current condition. Even now, sitting there with only a foot between them, Archer could feel the heat radiating off of Timmy. Trying to rest his eyes wasn’t helping… and the heat coming off of Timmy was driving Archer nuts. He pulled back the hood on Timmy’s jacket and nearly jumped out of his skin! Timmy was as pale as a ghost.

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He reached up and felt Timmy’s forehead, first looking around to make sure nobody was watching. That was all he needed, today, was catching flack for showing some concern about his best friend. Archer looked around, everybody was busy talking and rough housing. Some were trading candies they got from the Church ‘Halloween-IN!’ services. It was the Baptist church’s way of providing a ‘safe and family oriented’ version of Trick-or-Treat. Rarely attended by any kids past the third grade, it was not something that Archer or Timmy would been seen dead… at.

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Nobody looking at the back of the bus, so Archer pulled back the hood on Timmy’s coat and gasped! Timmy looked like death warmed over. His lips were bluish; his skin was as pale as summer whitewash. Archer reached over and put the back of his hand against Timmy’s forehead. Archer immediately pulled his hand back in horror. Timmy’s temp was well north of one hundred degrees, and it was sure to be climbing. Jeepers! The day had hardly got started and things were already turning south! Archer pulled Timmy’s jacket hood back over his head, adjusted his jacket so Timmy wouldn’t get chilled. Just as Archer was slipping into panic mode one of the third graders came down the isle towards him. He was holding something in his hand, Archer couldn’t quite make it out until he was right beside him.

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“Your friend looks like he could use something to help him wake-up! Here, this candy was made my Mrs. Bright and it is really hot stuff... like ‘Red Devils’ only hotter.”

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The boy handed several small red candies to Archer and headed beck to the front of the bus. Archer remembered Mrs. Bright’s homemade candies. He remembered that one year she ended up making two whole grades sick, with her Red Devils. They contained way too much cinnamon and would burn the inside of your mouth. Then she would put way too much sugar to try to cover how hot they came out. What you ended up with was a candy that could burn holes in your stomach, while (at the same time) gave you a sugar rush that would last hours.

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Seems fate had a plan for Archer, a plan that might just give some life to Timmy. This candy would give him at least enough life to get him off the bus and into homeroom, if not longer. Archer shook Timmy’s shoulder and tried to wake him.

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“Timmy… TIMMY! Wake up, Timmy! Here… eat these, they are going to help you to feel better. Come on Timmy… Open your mouth… That’s it! Now chew!”

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Timmy starting to sluggishly chew the homemade Red Devils, eyes shut and his head in his chest. One bite, two bites…three bites Timmy’s eyes open for the first time since they got on the bus. Four bites! Timmy’s eyes bolted open and he sat up straight in the bus seat. Now Timmy was chewing the candy much faster, in between bites he would open up his mouth wide. Timmy’s right hand came up and he started waving his open mouth, as if to call something extremely hot he was eating. Bite… Fan! Bite… FAN!

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“What the heck did you put in my mouth, Archer, gasoline?”

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Timmy frantically chewed alternating chewing with fanning his mouth to cool down his tongue. As Timmy begins to regain consciousness, Archer explains.

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“You remember old Mrs. Bright? Do you remember the homemade ‘Red Devils’ she used to bring to the Church Halloween Trick or Treats? Well, seems Mrs. Bright is at it, again. Timmy, my good friend, what you have in your mouth are three of this year’s batch of Mrs. Bright’s homemade ‘Red Devils’. I will get you some water, for the burning mouth and teeth, but in the next couple of minuets… well, they sugar should kick in!”

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Timmy turns to face Archer, there is a shocked look on his face. A shocked look, and there is color back in Timmy’s face. Now, Archer knows full well, that, in time, Timmy will find a way to get back at him… for putting three toxic candies in his mouth… without warning. But, that will happen sometime later in the day, or tomorrow. All Archer cares about now? He has his best friend back, in the world of the living, for as long as the sugar rush lasts. Timmy was finishing up chewing the last of the toxic treats, when he speaks;

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“Archer… I know that you had to do… something, like, to get me back awake and all. Yet, sitting here I can think of at least five other ways you could have done that without feeding me Mrs. Bright’s homemade ‘Red Devil’s.’. You know I hated those things when we were in the third grade… Now? I need water, bad!”

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Luck must have been on the side of our youthful adventures, because just as Timmy was in need of water to drink, the school bus pulled up to the school. With Timmy back in the pink, as it were, he was able to walk all by himself off of the bus and into the school. No sooner than Timmy had entered the school, he found a water faucet and began to drink. Archer stood there, for what seemed like ten minuets, watching Timmy drink the faucet dry. He gave up and went to go and put his backpack into his locker. That done, he opened Timmy’s locker, always the locker right next to his, and waited for his thirsty friend to appear.

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Archer leaned back against the lockers and took a deep breath. The day had not even started, for him and Timmy, and already they had; encountered talking rats that ride ferrets, fought zombie Wolves, and outsmarted a ferocious murdering giant… and it wasn’t even Halloween yet! Timmy was the best friend he had ever had, honestly the very best friend anyone could ever ask. Yet, from the day that he first laid eyes on Timmy. Life had always been an adventure.

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He and Timmy had spent half of elementary school in detention or the principal’s office. Never for anything illegal or for harming another person. Neither of them were that radical. Once was even for doing something nice for the poorer students. Yes, they had stolen the milk, but they immediately gave it to the handful of grade school kids that couldn’t afford milk with their lunches. Archer and Timmy both had decided that any law that prevented any children from enjoying milk with lunch? Was a bad law!

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The thought of that day, put a smile on Archer’s face. Just as he was breaking a smile, Timmy came around the corner, still trying to wipe the taste out of his mouth.

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“So, why do you have a smile on your face like a Cheshire cat, Archer? Feed toxic treats to any other children?”

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Archer reached up and patted Timmy on the back, still smiling he looked Timmy right in the eyes and said;

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“Nope, I was thinking about ‘The Great Milk Theft’ of the third grade. You remember that day?”

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Timmy stopped… thought about what Archer had said, slowly a smile formed on his face, too. No matter what the next twenty-four hours threw at him, Timmy imagined that the thought of that day… the good they did, would get him through. He looked over at Archer and said;

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“That was a great day, Archer… now, take a look at the balloon I found over by the water fountain!”

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Timmy held up his left hand, and put it up close to Archer’s face. Yeap, it was all blown up and kind of bluish purple… yeap that looked like a balloon, all right! As Archer was evaluating the blood engorged hand attached to Timmy’s arm the first bell rang for homeroom. Archer grabbed Timmy’s left-hand and shoved it in his coat pocket saying:

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“Let’s just keep this hidden until we can figure out what to do with it. We don’t want the nurse, or any of the teachers, to see your hand or we will spend the rest of today explaining things in the principal’s office. Again!”

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With that Timmy and Archer, side-by-side, friends to the end, headed off to their homeroom class to start what was certain to be a day full of adventures.

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End Part Nine

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Thanks for dropping by My Dear Readers. I do apologize for the brevity of this episode. I am really going to work on hardening for my writing. However, episode Eight… may have been a false reading. It was over fourteen pages in Word… and I am not so sure if or when I will be up to that, again. I plan on writing every day. If I can accomplish that, soon I will be back up to producing episodes of that length, again.

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I will, however, publish (later this week or earlier next week) all new editions of; ‘The Mars Report’, ‘Lost in Space’, and all of your regular favorites! My Dear Readers, I am working hard to bring the talents of another author here to The Other Shoe. His name is James Coate, and he hails from my same small town, Pearland. If you look under Authors on the blog, you will see his name is already featured. He has not, yet, shared any of this works with us… but I am hoping that soon Mr. Coate will join me in bringing quality content right here to The Other Shoe.

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For now, I will take my leave. Thank you for your support, your comments, and your readership!

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Adieu!

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Thank YOU!

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http://www.ebay.com/usr/enzomatrixlt

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[caption id="attachment_2866" align="aligncenter" width="630"] Danny Hanning of The Other Shoe - May 6th, 2014[/caption]