ON HIS WAY TO MASS
Zachary A. Bragg
1
1
On his way to Mass, David Fetterfeild was hit by a PT Cruiser. Just moments after he stepped onto the cross walk, not particularly concerned with whether there is a heaven or not, a woman struck her car into David Fetterfeild. Mrs. Fetterfield, a profound professor and Mathematician saw the whole thing happen and she was horrified:
“The car was passing approximately 2 telephone poles every 3.75 seconds which in turn amounts to 50 miles per hour. If the driver had not maintained a consistent speed the moment he or she hit David and allowed the appropriate amount of break time for the car to stop, there is a high probability if him still surviving.” She explained this to one of the officers on site a half hour after the accident. The Cop tried to write what the witness was saying as fast as he could, but all he was able to catch was “car,” “speed,” “David,” hit,” “Survive,” ect.
He had never enjoyed math. In fact, it had been his weakest area at University. It still embarrassed him years after grammar school. He tried to question her in such a way that avoided any mention of numbers. He failed:
“Of course I was right behind him. I have always been behind my husband 100 percent.” The witness insisted.
In reality, when the Fetterfeilds walked together, she was always at least a block behind him, trying to keep up with the long dinosaur legs that she had married. The night that David proposed to her, he asked if that bothered her. “Of course not,” she said. She lied.
She was also deceiving the officer when she expressed her optimism about the chances of the victim recovering. The weight of the vehicle was so severe that she was certain helpless David would not live for much longer, lying there with two blank faced tires on his flattened body. But she could not bear to think that he was dying because that would leave her with a great deal of financial trouble to carry on her back. Besides, she was not an expert on crime or death or freak accidents. She was just Ms. Fetterfield.
Holding the officer’s gaze she asked, “Can I see my husband now? Are you finished?” His questions seemed to be going in no clear direction. It tired her.
“Yep,” the man with the badge answered. Since the witness was finished with her equations, so was he.
The woman then meekly walked over to the damage to see if she had become a widow. She took great offense at the scenes that surrounded her. It was a beautiful day for early February: the sun was sweating and a man was passing out ice cream cones to dancing children in swimming suits only a few summersaults away from the accident. Beyond some trees and the prehistoric looking 7/11, stood Saint Paul’s Catholic Church. It looked especially proud today. As the meek woman walked past these cheery things, she felt as though she was trying to keep her balance on a rocky plank. The sun-sweat children and the disturbed path to the church caused her stomach feel especially nervous.
2
Inside of her glass and sound-defeating orb, a woman flew her space ship in an uncertain and yet justifiable direction through dark galaxies. Her real name was Eunice, but when she raised her arms to the controls of her wild wheels she became Captain Thunder. Of course, she had stolen this name from the famous television series Mayhem Highway. At the beginning of each episode, Captain Thunder looked at Eunice, revved his truck engine and announced “LETS TRED SOME STEEL!”
Similarly, whenever she started up her Cruiser, Eunice said in her meanest voice “Let’s tred that steel!”
The real Captain led his gang of bloodthirsty, zombie riders on excursions to rock concerts and sometimes--spiritual journeys. They followed in monster vehicles that resembled animals like vultures, bobcats, and demonic lambs. Thunder’s spirit guide happened to be a rattlesnake, which happened to be Eunice’s as well.
There was also a chick that followed in a Frankenstein convertible, but she disappeared well into the second season because the Mayhen Team felt that she was “bringing them down.” They had a convention: “Frankenstein isn’t even a worthy spirit guide,” said Steve, the demonic lamb.
And so it was off into the Arizona night these cowboys rode, leaving behind a heartbroken actress and flinging their excitement onto whatever spinning highways that got in their way.
One time Captain Thunder took off his skeleton riding gloves, looked at Eunice with his handsome face and wolfy eyes and said, “I could tred through the most Metal highway in my life and it still wouldn’t be as satisfying as riding her with you.” It was Eunice’s favorite program and she watched it every Thursday night.
3
The officer, who now regressed to directing traffic around the scene, glanced over every now again at the woman who had crashed her PT cruiser into a pedestrian. She was very old. Also, whenever a young person or a friend addressed her they would not know whether she could see them or not. Her eyes burrowed themselves behind squishy skin restricting her vision to only 5½ -inches in front of her. Hot purple makeup drooped down her face, which made her look like a confused clown. The cop noticed that she was tiny in all respectable ways: from her little piglet feet to her grubby fingers. More importantly, there was something that was particularly resilient about her that annoyed the officer, an attitude that he had seen many times during his career in Ohio Valley. He could smell it from a mile a way.
4
The digits on Ms. Fetterfield’s hand touched the side of the robust Cruiser. She had to draw them away because it was so hot. She remembered when she use to place each hand carefully on David’s chest and draw them away because he was so hot. That was in college. But David was more than a hot stud in those days. The girl enlisted in Statistics 101 didn’t care too much for sex because she believed that such things were to be preserved for marriage, when David would be her King, and she his Queen of numbers. In those days it was top priority for other girls to meet a smart boy and lose their virginity. But whatever it was David and the college girl had discovered was more sacred than intercourse. It wasn’t always satisfying, sure. But young Ms. Fetterfield would tell you her deepest secret if you promised not to laugh.
In her dorm room, when David lifted his shirt and she gently felt his body with all her dancing fingers, she swore that she could feel his good chemicals rubbing off on her.
5
“What did you say your name was?” asked the officer.
“Captain Thunder,” said the confused old woman.
Of all the clowns he had dealt with in his twenty-five year career, the cop had never seen anything like this. The lady who claimed to be a head-bashing teen idol was walking about saying things like: “I wanna tred some steel! Don’t hold me back—I’m not finished with this highway!”
The cop’s partner, Jess was finally on the site. She did not find the situation as humorous as her comrade led on.
“Ma’m calm yourself,” she said, “Stand over by the curb please. We need to ask you a few things.” But Captain Thunder didn’t answer to anyone. Certainly not to a woman who wore a suit. She barked liked a coyote and stomped her little feet in the dirt. The police officer took out his cell phone, which had a camera on it and started to record what was going on. Jess looked at him with disgust: “this is a rather serious situation sir wouldn’t you agree?”
The amused man hit the “send” button on his phone, which transported the video to 13 of his buddies on the squad. They would show this clip to their sons before they tucked them into bed at night. In the morning, the sons would spring out of their beds like cartoons found on cereal boxes and load the video from their fathers’ cell phones onto the Internet. Though the video’s demographic spread to computers around the world keeps rising, as of right now “Old Woman Doing Thunder Dance!!” has 37,514,599 hits.
Jess pulled the smirking cop aside so that the deranged grandma could not hear them. “That woman has a severe form of amnesia and you take videos of her to send to your pals?”
The cop gaped at her. He didn’t know what to say. She had clearly lost her ability to laugh. This had been the gossip that lived in the department’s male locker room.
“What have you been doing for the past twenty minutes you were here?” She said in a lashing sort of way. “Did you even bother to check to see if that man over there is still alive?”
“No Ma’m.” Answered the other, crooked badge.
“Will you?”
He walked away like a defeated child. The man with the gangly pair of handcuffs missed the old Jessica; the Jessica who was in charge of handing out bouquets of balloons to members on the squad when it was their Birthday.
7
That morning, David Fetterfield made his way to Mass without knowing that his world would soon be shattered by a PT cruiser. He was positive that the light across the way had signaled him to cross, but he might not have been paying attention. For a moment he caught sight of the 7/11 and thought: wouldn’t the father love to have doughnuts for after the service? But just as he finished this, he was struck down and felt as though he were being rolled out like a pastry. The inertia of the situation had not given him enough time to think, but his body cried and ached in response.
And it was at that moment that he experienced only what the silent dead can explain. I am not a magician so I cannot tell you what happens when you are about to go. But I will take a stab:
Those you love,
Are clear in your sight,
And the rest,
Are subtracted.
Take
the sweet things that you know,
and imagine them running to your brain,
as fast as a child scribbling on a piece of paper.
See
not paradise but what is real first.
Did you feed me when I was hungry?
Give me water when my soul was dry, dry?
Let me lie in your home even when I was a stranger to you?
This happens in the tiniest movement of time,
But resonates in the heart,
for a very long time.
As the blood--
slows you--
--loose control.
And then you pass into--
--the great light.
But David’s story doesn’t end here. His vision goes away until he feels cold hands on his face. When his eyes finally croak open he does not regard either the concerned officers or the old woman. In his vision is the Queen of numbers underneath the glowing sun.
“What is she doing?” Asked the old lady.
“Giving back the good chemicals,” Answered the wife focused on her love.
Bells echo to relieve people from the Mass.
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