Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Pulling into the macadam driveway and parking her car in front of the large garage door of her father's two-story home, Casey released a long breath of air, her fingers clenched tensely around the steering wheel, reassuring herself that everything would be all right in the end.  He may be a nasty old man…but he was still her father and for all his faults, she still loved him greatly.  

Her forehead soon made contact with the smooth leather of the wheel in spite of her promising assessments. It was the first encounter with him that was plaguing her now.  The last time she had seen him had not been on good terms, not at all.  Though she had always meant to return sooner for a visit, she still ended up postponing the trip for nearly a year.  In the meantime, she still called, checking in on him from time to time, but he had always seemed grouchy and in response Casey never stayed on the phone for very long.  Just long enough to know he was still breathing.

Raising her head from the wheel she looked at herself in the rearview mirror, seeing a faded red mark across her forehead.  She tsked, rubbing at her sticky forehead, finding she was only making the slightly red mark even redder.  Lowering her hand to her lap, she closed her eyes before drawing in another deep breath, letting it out in a long exhale of hot muggy air.  

Opening her lids, she looked towards the front door of the house she once called home, placing her hand to the interior handle of her driver’s side door.  “Now is a good a time as any…” She muttered to herself, pushing the door open and then stepping outside of the car before closing it shut once more with a soft thud.  Stretching her arms out over her head, she took a good look around Marksville.

This town seemed just like any other run of the mill towns.  Houses, big and small, paneled and bricked, lined both sides of the streets, sidewalks at the properties’ end.  Her gaze fell to the hospital across the street from her old home. 

 Marksville Hospital was not a very large building since the town’s population neared maybe a thousand, reaching two stories high.  The hospital’s diameter standard to other medical constructions.  Large windows reflected the afternoon sun, giving the reddish-brown brick structure a magnificent gleam.  The two sets of double doors were beneath a large awning, the blacktop of the parking lot sloping up towards the door for easier access.

“This is the fortunate side of town,” Her father use to say when she and her sister were younger, “We should have no worries if one of the girls get sick.  All we have to do is walk across the street!”  He would always make that lame joke to the residents of Marksville and usually his response was a satisfactory chuckle.  The joke was lame, she use to think as a kid.  Nowadays she only wished he joked half as much.

Letting a sigh escape her lips from the sudden nostalgia, she looked back to the streets, noting how things seemed a little quieter than usual.  Shrugging of the thought, she turned back to the house, making her way to the door.  It is Sunday after all.  Usually is quiet here on Sundays.  Placing a hand to the door’s golden knob, she turned it easily within her hand.  The thought of knocking had not crossed her mind.  Though she may not live there anymore, in her heart this was still her home.

Stepping into the hallway, closing the door behind her with a silent click, Casey was surprised by the humid air the house held.  Usually this time of day her father had always turned on the central air, making the place comfortably cool during the summer days.  Maybe it’s on the frits?

The first things to be seen in the empty hall was the woodened staircase ahead of her, a door to the left in the hall’s center, which she knew to be the kitchen, and an open archway to her right, which lead to the living area, a further ways down the hall at the foot of the stairs.

Walking down the hall Casey called out to her father, waiting a few moments for a response.  Stopping at the kitchen door, she strained to hear his voice through the silence of the house.  A frown traced her features and she decided to look into the kitchen, pushing the white door open.  “Dad?  It’s Casey!”  She called once more taking a quick glance around.

At the far end of the room was where five red-wooden cabinets and counters, capped with gray tops and adorned with silver handles, were set.  A stainless steel doubled door refrigerator was at the end on the left and a basin sink set into the middle counter.  Between the sink’s counter and the fourth counter to the right was a stainless steel stove, matching the refrigerator and several other common kitchen appliances.  Six feet from the door was a medium sized table, black in color, with four chairs, also black but with tanned cushions.  

Not seeing her father within the kitchen, Casey stepped back out into the hall, letting the door close shut behind her.  She headed towards the living room, peering in from the archway seeing the three-seat, tanned colored sofa set before the large four paneled windows, garnished with royal blue curtains.  On either sides of the couch were matching chairs though the one to the right was a recliner.  In the center of the furniture was a glass coffee table with a dark brown trim, magazines littering the table’s clear surface.  Placed about a few feet ahead of the seating arrangements was a wooden entertainment stand, the same coloring as the coffee table’s wooden trim, with various movies, a DVD player, and a small radio neatly placed within its shelves. The 36” TV was mounted on the wall above the stand at a comfortable level to watch within any of the seats.  

Still, there was no dad. 

   “Where could he be?”  Her question echoed, almost mockingly, through the small vacant hall.  Though she didn’t get along with him very well at this moment in time, she knew her father and knew damn well that he wouldn’t have left the house with the front door unlocked.  Marksville may have been quiet, but that didn’t exclude the small town from crimes however rare the occasion.  

Turning towards the stairs, she called for him once more, beginning to climb the stairwell listening closely for any sounds from the floor above.  Maybe he was just in the bathroom or fast asleep in his room.  At any rate, she would not know unless she checked for herself.  

Rounding the woodened banister, Casey came to another hall.  Various pictures of her family hung from the beige colored walls. To her right there were two doors; the first was the bathroom and the other room she had shared with her sister.  Following the floral patterned carpeting, she took a sideward glance into the cramped bathroom through its opened door.  There was nothing to be seen in there except the usual, a toilet, sink, and tub, all in that order.

Passing the bathroom, she stopped a few paces from her old room, biting her lip sentimentally as her gaze fell to the closed door.  No longer able to fight the urge of seeing her old room, Casey took the last few steps in a curious dash to the door. Placing her hand to the cool knob and turning it, her mind wondered about how the room look, what her father may have done to it in her and Sarah’s absence.  He probably threw all of our things away.  She thought cynically, pushing the door open. Probably turned it into an office or some sort of game room-

Her thoughts were cut short when she saw that their room was exactly the way they had left it.  Nothing at all had been moved, nothing out of place.  Set against the left pale blue wall was a set of twin beds with white headboards, spaced apart with a small white table set in between and up against the wall.  Both beds had white night stands; the bed to the left had a stand to the left, the one to the right had the stand to its right.  

The beds were still made with their favorite blankets; Casey’s, the one to the left, was a dark silky green, Sarah’s a plush purple.  Across from the beds to the wall closest to the door were double-door armoires, also white in color, a mirror set to each left door.  Her parents had done well in trying to accommodate the two siblings, so close to age and in their teenage years.  Casey knew they had to be a handful.

Guilt hit Casey like a ton of bricks as she quietly pulled the door shut, her hand lingering on the knob, now warm from her touch.  He hadn’t changed a thing… The relished thought filled her eyes with tears that she soon wiped clear, her thoughts once again wondering where he may be.  

Her gaze fell to the last door on the second floor, already taking the necessary steps through the L-shaped hall.  The last room for her to check was her parent’s, her father’s, room. Coming closer she could see the door was slightly ajar.  Maybe he was here after all.  Placing a hand to the smooth wood of the door, she pushed it open, finding herself utterly disappointed by its emptiness.

Directly across from the door was a queen-sized bed with a dark wooden frame.  A large circular rug was centered beneath the bed matching the gray and black comforter set placed on top its mattress.  At the foot of the bed was her mother’s hope chest she had filled with extra sets of blankets.  A walk-in closet was to the right of the entrance with a sliding mirrored door.  To the right of the bed was a long dark wooden dresser with several drawers.  All of her mother’s nick-knacks, perfumes, hair accessories and a single jewelry box remained neatly organized across the dresser’s finely polished top.  She never believed her father to be the sentimental type, but soon found herself thinking otherwise after her short tour of the house.

But, where is he?  She scanned the room once more.  Maybe he really did go out somewhere and just forgotten to lock the door before leaving.  She hadn’t thought to check the garage since the front door was unlocked. No matter how unlikely the thought may be, it was still plausible that he had left.  

 “I guess he isn’t here…”  She said, finally convincing herself that the highly unlikely scenario to be true.  Her gaze lowered as she readied herself to leave the room when something caught her eye beneath the bed.  Pushing the door open fully, she walked towards the bed and knelt to one knee, picking up what was on the floor, half hidden in the shadows.

A notepad?  She turned the little pad in her hands seeing writing on the front page.  After a moment of studying the page, she realized something.  This is dad’s writing…Looks a little rushed though…

To her surprise, the note was addressed to her and Sarah and after a couple minutes re-reading the scribble, Casey was finally able to make sense of the writing.  As much sense as she could anyway.

“Casey and Sarah,

I am writing this and leaving this here for either of you if one of you should happen to come here in these horrid times.”

Horrid times?

“I don’t have much time to explain everything, but I beg of you, if you read this letter you must leave ASAP.  I plan to do the same and contact you.  If I do not get a hold of you, something has happened to me.  This town is going to hell.

I love you both.

Your Father”

At the end of the letter was the date.  She looked to it with narrowed brows.  But this is only a few days ago… she set the notepad to the bed, gradually getting to her feet.  What is going on here?  If something were to have happen here, wouldn’t the military know?  Wouldn’t they have told me?

Casey rushed out of the room to the stairway.  What does he mean ‘if I do not get a hold of you, something has happened to me’?  She bolted down the stairs and hurried out the front door, flinging it open with a resounding bang, and continued to her car.  

Opening the door, she took another lengthier, attentive scan over the surrounding vicinity.  Through the windows, she noticed all of the houses seemed dark…no extra lighting, no glimmer from TV sets, nothing.  She couldn’t even see anyone walking from room to room or sitting on their pouches enjoying the breezy air.  No one was taking advantage of the glorious summer day.

Why hadn’t I noticed that before?  She reached into the car grabbing her phone from the passenger’s seat.  Flipping it open, she tsked.  “Damn,” she said throwing her phone back into the seat.  “No service.”  She slammed the door shut out of frustration, running her hands through her short reddish hair.  

Looking back through the car window to her phone, she bit her bottom lip.  “Why don’t I have service here?”  In all the time she had lived there, she had always had at minimum two bars with the service she had.  She looked around the area once more.  There really are no people around.  Her gaze fell to the hospital.  That’s it.  Someone has to be there.  If something, did really happen, what better place to go then a hospital?

She made her way across the street, the thought of her father on her mind.  Maybe he will be there.