Finding Annabelle CH.1

It's funny yet tragic the way I found Annabelle J. Cole, it's kind of like something you see in a story book. Something reminiscent of a dream but reality none the less. It's a day I'll never forget. It was early on a rainy spring morning in Seattle; the aroma of coffee was coming from the corner Starbucks. The, oh so familiar sweet smell of petrichor began to hit my nostrils. Nothing was too out of the ordinary. I was walking to work intently listening to the sweet melodies of a new alternative folk band, To Battle Stations, I was thinking about signing them to my label. There's something I may have forgot to mention - I have my own record label. It's called Slade music... Named after me of course Remington Slade. But that's beside the point. Anyways I was really getting into the music. I mean man I was air drumming, dancing, and lip syncing the words. When I get into music like this I often end up closing my eyes. I don't know if it's out of sheer embarrassment from my drumming or to just shut out the rest of the planet so it is just me and the beautiful melodies of a song. Either way we both know it's a bad idea to close your eyes when you're navigating the busy streets of Seattle. Before I knew it I heard a car horn and screeching tires over my blaring music. Before I could open my eyes I was struck by something massive... When I awoke I found myself lying in the road. I began to look up and low and behold I was alright. Nothing I had ever experienced could have prepared me for what I saw next. A monstrous man was lying about fifteen feet away from a stopped vehicle. The front of it marred by a huge dent.  He was covered in blood from his freshly snapped arm. I would later find out from the emt that arrived on scene, it wasn't the blood loss that killed him but rather internal hemorrhaging in his brain. I crawled over to the man to thank him. As I said before he was in bad shape. He reached up with his one good arm and pulled me close. He said "here! Here is my wallet it will tell you everything you need to know." “Find Annabelle tell her I love her! Most of all take care of her!" 

"I will", I said

Those were the words I spoke to him as he slowly closed his eyes. I intended to keep them. After all this man had saved my life.  A few minutes later he took his last shallow breath and passed away.

 

My thoughts were racing, my palms sweating, and my stomach churned. I was about to throw up for when I opened his wallet I saw a military ID it read, Christopher Evans. This man had been a soldier. He didn't die serving his country he died saving a petulant man like me. The next few days went by so slow, everything that had happened seemed to be in a blur. Being in the music business I often equate things to music. My moods, transpiring events, and memories and all three had ranked #10 on the lugubrious scale. Its almost as if someone had set this section of my life to the soundtrack of a dirge. I knew what I had to do. I had to move on; I had to get past this. And the only way was by finding Annabelle.

 

You see, the man that died, was a USAA Green Beret of the fifth Special Forces group of the Middle East and Central Asia. He had deployed several times in Iraq, where he and his unit were instrumental in the capture of Fallujah. He was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for extraordinary heroism. That was all I could possibly find out from Wikipedia. But it didn't list where he was from.  So, I did what any other sensible person would have done... I turned to Facebook. It was a rather bittersweet of a moment. It was good because I found out what I needed to. It was bad because I found out too much.

 

I thought seeing Christopher Evans die would be the hardest thing I would have ever had to witness in my life. But looking at his facebook and seeing his dreams and what he liked hurt much more. But I couldn't look away. Things like, his favorite food, Spanish chicken, I would later come to know it was his mother's best dish. His favorite hobby fishing. His cover photo was of him and the large trophy bass, biggest I had ever seen, that won him the title, "best bass fisherman in the Clinton Morrison area." 

That's right. I found out where he lived. Morrison Illinois. I was somewhat proud that I was able to locate him but then... My heart sank, I saw his last status before he met his bitter demise. It read, “Cannot wait to get back to the states and give my fiancé the great news." “I got into U of I's Law School." The status was littered with comments like "way to go" and” thanks for your service you deserve this."  It had almost three hundred likes for god sakes. Yet, none of them knew the great Christopher Evans was no more. Soon to be just a memory. One that would live on for years to come. For this admirable man had touched so many lives all over the globe. To scratch his name off the records of humanity would be nearly impossible. But to wipe him from existence should be a crime punishable by death.  Or at least that's how I felt. As I continued to scroll down I saw the life event "engaged to Annie Cole” she had been tagged. The date was recent it must have been before his final deployment.  

 

I clicked the tag not knowing what to expect. Within a couple seconds her profile had loaded and all I could do was stare... she was without a doubt the most beautiful woman I had ever had the good fortune to lay eyes upon. She wasn't one of those models out of a magazine with a large butt and breasts but a rather svelte woman, tall, with a little bit of curve to her. She had straight dirty blonde hair with these beautiful hazel eyes. I could get lost in those eyes forever.

I quickly pushed those thoughts out of my mind. This was after all Christopher's fiancé. The man who gave his last full measure of devotion not to Annabelle, nor his country, but to me. A passerby. Someone who he didn't even know. Someone who quite frankly didn't deserve it.  I was however, going to keep the promise I had made Christopher. With that being said I packed my bags and headed for the airport.

 

I sauntered through the automatic doors and walked up to the desk and bought an open ended ticket to Chicago. Now Morrison was a small farming community on the border of Iowa and Illinois. The Population was about 1,500 or so. SO why did I fly into Chicago? Quite frankly, I needed the drive to calm my nerves and man that was a lot of driving. After a few hours I touched down at Chicago O'Hare international airport. The flight was a smooth but dreary one. I could barely sleep. I couldn't get his face out of my mind. Or the fact that I had destroyed the picturesque life that was Christopher Evans. I stood up and grabbed my bag and exited the plane. The perks of first class... no lines.  I had called the rental car service the night before telling them to have a black Cadillac escalade ready for me for when I had gotten to the desk to register and pay. So yet again I didn't have the ridiculously long lines of Chicago O'Hare to wait in. I immediately got in my car and sped down the express way.

 

I had been driving for about thirty minutes and was just about to enter the suburbs when I saw the blue lights in my rear view mirror. I glanced down at my speed. It wasn't that bad. Eighty-five in a seventy-five mile an hour zone. "License and registration" the cop said, I immediately pulled them out. While doing so I quickly let the officer know I was in a hurry and the matter was urgent. So urgent I had "accidently" pulled out three one hundred dollar bills and "accidently" put them between the license and registration. The cop stood there and looked at me when he separated the two cards to find three hundred dollars. I thought to myself " this could go one of two ways." "I could either go to jail for trying to bribe a city cop or... I would get off scot free." The latter would happen.

 

I was careful to make sure the cop was out of range of sight before I began climbing back up to cruising speed. I began thinking to myself, money had pretty much gotten me out of all my problems all of my life. It had gotten me out of trouble when I was a young fresh face in the entertainment business, it had solved my company’s legal battles, and most of all it got me what I wanted when I wanted it. Money was not going to solve my problems this time. I don't think I could offer Annie Cole a sum large enough to make restitution for the permanent problem I had caused a few days earlier. What was I going to do? I had the rest of the drive to ponder that awful question. That's exactly what I did.

Author's Note

ignore grammar problems