As he sat in the cold waiting for the help he was sure would arrive, the thoughts swirling in his head ran the gamut from idle to deep. He considered what had led him to this job in the first place. It was easy work. Maybe not for everyone though. People were often shocked when he showed up to do his work. He supposed it was the ponytail or maybe the tattoos that caused them to stare. But, he had spent a good deal of time and even more money to get his ink exactly how he wanted it and he'd be damned before he covered it up to fit into someone else's idea of acceptability. He took the job because it was easy work. It paid decently. And it wasn't the nine to five, punch a time clock, die of boredom job everyone else he knew had...and to be honest, he liked the looks of shock or horror on people's faces when he told someone what he did. Driving a hearse wasn't a bad gig. Hell, it wasn't like he was doing what the funeral guys were doing. He didn't have to do the cemetery work. No, he was the long haul guy. The work was quiet and he was seeing parts of the country he probably would have never seen otherwise. Being a loner by nature, it was pretty much the perfect job for him.
That was how he came to be sitting in a ditch, in the middle of a blizzard, waiting for help. The day had started off simple enough. Phone rang. Pick up in New Mexico. Quick turnaround. Easy enough. The drive over was uneventful. The scenery wasn't exactly scintillating, lots of flat, ugly farmland broken up by the occasional dingy, small town that looked more like death than anything he came across on the job. A couple of hours into the state, the scenery changed and he started the drive up into the mountains. Cloudcroft was just a quiet little town sitting on top of a mountain in the southern part of the state. Not much to see or do, which was fine for his purposes. He thought back to the look on the funeral director's face when he pulled up to make his pickup. It really was his favorite part of the work. Once the initial shock of seeing him had worn off, the guy had become all business and got to the work at hand. In less than ten minutes, his cargo was loaded, the papers were signed and he was headed out the door for the return trip. The guy mentioned the weather, but he knew he would be well clear of the place before the dark clouds he could see rolling in had a chance to do any damage. It was sure as hell cold though. He wondered why anyone would live in such a damned cold place voluntarily. No wonder the few people he had seen scattered around were so pasty white. He wondered if it was ever warm.
He didn't remember seeing a place for a cup of coffee on his drive though town, but surely even a hellhole like this had a greasy spoon diner. He drove slowly looking until he saw a rustic, cabin-looking building that that claimed to have the best cup of coffee in town. He didn't doubt it. It was probably the only cup of coffee in town. He was pleasantly surprised when walked into the smell of baking bread and coffee. He was even more surprised to see the selection of fresh baked goods. He ordered a couple of cinnamon rolls and a large coffee and sat down to enjoy their hot goodness before his long, boring drive back to Lubbock. The warmth and smells were hypnotizing and he lost track of time until he noticed that snow had started falling outside. As he paid out, the woman behind the counter told him that he might as well get comfortable, once the snow starts falling, no one is going anywhere. He told her he was pretty sure he would be long gone before that happened. She seemed skeptical, but hell, he would be off this mountain and back on flat ground in half an hour.
He thought back on that now as he sat in the hearse...at the bottom of this ravine. Damn mountains and trees made getting any reception on his cell impossible. He thought of those AT&T commercials about more bars in more places and decided he was changing companies as soon as he got home. More bars in more places my ass. But, the boss knew when he should be back and when he didn't show up, they would send someone to find out why. Whoever his passenger was would have family that would be raising hell to find out where he was. He wasn't worried. But he was cold. Shit. He hadn't filled up in Cloudcroft because gas was twenty cents a gallon cheaper down in Artesia. Now he was regretting the decision to save the boss some money. Sitting there running the engine to keep the heater going wasn't going to last long at this rate. He hoped they were looking for him now.
Once the gas had run out with no sign of help, he wondered if there was something in there somewhere to provide some warmth. As the snow began to drift over the windshield, he climbed all the way to the back in his search for something, anything. Bingo! He found a couple of those cheesy, crushed velvet throws they used to cover up anything not solemn enough during transfer or burial. It was a little cramped back there with his cargo, but it seemed to be warmer and let him stretch out and get comfortable while he waited for his inevitable rescue. It also gave him someone to talk to. He didn't know who his passenger was. His paperwork just listed the transfer from funeral home to funeral home. He figured it was the usual old person who's kids had left home and didn't want to be bothered with burying mom or dad where they had spent their lives. He thought about that. He wasn't sure there was some kind of afterlife. He hoped there was. It was a comfort to think so. But he did hope whoever his passenger was had a chance to get even with people who did them wrong in this life when they arrived in the next. That was important to him. Not revenge. Justice. He hoped for justice.
He considered the people in his past who deserved some justice for what they had done to him. He had always been outside what people considered the norm. It wasn't that he was abnormal. He just didn't care what others thought. He said what he thought. He did what he pleased. He didn't conform. Most people had thought him odd because of it. Some were cruel because of it. He didn't have friends, didn't date, never even had a girlfriend. There was that one girl in junior high. She moved in next door just before school started when he was twelve. What was her name? He remembered that she was always kind to him. Always talked to him when no one else would. She had long blonde hair. What was her name? Becky. Becky McBride. That was it. Her mom called her Rebecca Sue. Yeah, Becky. Man, she was something. She could hit a baseball like one of the guys. He remembered how she walked with him between classes and how she glared at anyone that called him names. He didn't care if they called him names, but he liked that she did. She might have been his girlfriend if her family hadn't moved over the Christmas break. He wondered where she was now, what she was doing, if she was happy. It was good to remember those times with her. When he got out of this mess, he thought he would look her up. He wasn't sure where they moved too. Midland maybe. Someone would know. He would find her. Yeah, that's what he would do. He would look her up. Hell, maybe he would marry her and live that happily ever after bullshit that seemed to be so important to people. If there was any justice in the world, she would be happy...and single. Then he thought of the guy in high school that tripped him as he walked to the front of the class to hand in his six-weeks test in biology. He remembered how everyone laughed when he fell into the desk of a cheerleader. And how she had jumped up and yelled how gross it was that he had touched her. Maybe he would look him up too. See how his life had turned out. If there was any justice in the world, he was fat and bald and married to that cheerleader who was now fat and bitchy. If there was any justice, they were making each other miserable and living in hell on earth. He really hoped for justice.
It had been cold for a long time. All he could see out any window was white. Maybe he would take a little nap. That might make passing the time easier. It briefly crossed his mind that he heard once that when people freeze to death, they get sleepy and just drift off. It was cold as hell, but shit, not cold enough to freeze to death. And besides, someone would be coming along soon to pull him out of this mess. Yeah, a nap was just the thing. He pulled the velvet covers up around his chin and laid his head over on his passenger. The wood was hard but not so cold. Sleep came quickly...
The headline in the Lubbock Avalanche Journal read, Missing Local Man Found Dead, The accompanying article gave the who, what, when, and where.
David Brashear, 32 of Lubbock, who had been reported missing by his employer, Resthaven Funeral Home, five days ago, was found dead yesterday. His body was found in his vehicle at the bottom of a ravine eleven miles west of Cloudcroft, New Mexico. Communication Director with the New Mexico State Police said in a statement that weather was a contributing factor in the accident that led to Brashear's death. Cause of death is unknown pending an autopsy by the State's coroner's office. Brashear was making the return trip to Lubbock after picking up the remains of Rebecca Sue McBride, 31 of Midland. McBride was killed Saturday in a skiing accident in Cloudcroft. Her family had made an appeal for help in finding Brashear on Wednesday's Today Show on NBC. Raymond Davis, of Cloudcroft, moved by the appeal, organized a search group of a local snowmobile club. The group found the vehicle when a member noticed what he thought was a car antennae. The vehicle was buried in more than 30 inches of snow. Services for both Brashear and McBride are pending.
That was how he came to be sitting in a ditch, in the middle of a blizzard, waiting for help. The day had started off simple enough. Phone rang. Pick up in New Mexico. Quick turnaround. Easy enough. The drive over was uneventful. The scenery wasn't exactly scintillating, lots of flat, ugly farmland broken up by the occasional dingy, small town that looked more like death than anything he came across on the job. A couple of hours into the state, the scenery changed and he started the drive up into the mountains. Cloudcroft was just a quiet little town sitting on top of a mountain in the southern part of the state. Not much to see or do, which was fine for his purposes. He thought back to the look on the funeral director's face when he pulled up to make his pickup. It really was his favorite part of the work. Once the initial shock of seeing him had worn off, the guy had become all business and got to the work at hand. In less than ten minutes, his cargo was loaded, the papers were signed and he was headed out the door for the return trip. The guy mentioned the weather, but he knew he would be well clear of the place before the dark clouds he could see rolling in had a chance to do any damage. It was sure as hell cold though. He wondered why anyone would live in such a damned cold place voluntarily. No wonder the few people he had seen scattered around were so pasty white. He wondered if it was ever warm.
He didn't remember seeing a place for a cup of coffee on his drive though town, but surely even a hellhole like this had a greasy spoon diner. He drove slowly looking until he saw a rustic, cabin-looking building that that claimed to have the best cup of coffee in town. He didn't doubt it. It was probably the only cup of coffee in town. He was pleasantly surprised when walked into the smell of baking bread and coffee. He was even more surprised to see the selection of fresh baked goods. He ordered a couple of cinnamon rolls and a large coffee and sat down to enjoy their hot goodness before his long, boring drive back to Lubbock. The warmth and smells were hypnotizing and he lost track of time until he noticed that snow had started falling outside. As he paid out, the woman behind the counter told him that he might as well get comfortable, once the snow starts falling, no one is going anywhere. He told her he was pretty sure he would be long gone before that happened. She seemed skeptical, but hell, he would be off this mountain and back on flat ground in half an hour.
He thought back on that now as he sat in the hearse...at the bottom of this ravine. Damn mountains and trees made getting any reception on his cell impossible. He thought of those AT&T commercials about more bars in more places and decided he was changing companies as soon as he got home. More bars in more places my ass. But, the boss knew when he should be back and when he didn't show up, they would send someone to find out why. Whoever his passenger was would have family that would be raising hell to find out where he was. He wasn't worried. But he was cold. Shit. He hadn't filled up in Cloudcroft because gas was twenty cents a gallon cheaper down in Artesia. Now he was regretting the decision to save the boss some money. Sitting there running the engine to keep the heater going wasn't going to last long at this rate. He hoped they were looking for him now.
Once the gas had run out with no sign of help, he wondered if there was something in there somewhere to provide some warmth. As the snow began to drift over the windshield, he climbed all the way to the back in his search for something, anything. Bingo! He found a couple of those cheesy, crushed velvet throws they used to cover up anything not solemn enough during transfer or burial. It was a little cramped back there with his cargo, but it seemed to be warmer and let him stretch out and get comfortable while he waited for his inevitable rescue. It also gave him someone to talk to. He didn't know who his passenger was. His paperwork just listed the transfer from funeral home to funeral home. He figured it was the usual old person who's kids had left home and didn't want to be bothered with burying mom or dad where they had spent their lives. He thought about that. He wasn't sure there was some kind of afterlife. He hoped there was. It was a comfort to think so. But he did hope whoever his passenger was had a chance to get even with people who did them wrong in this life when they arrived in the next. That was important to him. Not revenge. Justice. He hoped for justice.
He considered the people in his past who deserved some justice for what they had done to him. He had always been outside what people considered the norm. It wasn't that he was abnormal. He just didn't care what others thought. He said what he thought. He did what he pleased. He didn't conform. Most people had thought him odd because of it. Some were cruel because of it. He didn't have friends, didn't date, never even had a girlfriend. There was that one girl in junior high. She moved in next door just before school started when he was twelve. What was her name? He remembered that she was always kind to him. Always talked to him when no one else would. She had long blonde hair. What was her name? Becky. Becky McBride. That was it. Her mom called her Rebecca Sue. Yeah, Becky. Man, she was something. She could hit a baseball like one of the guys. He remembered how she walked with him between classes and how she glared at anyone that called him names. He didn't care if they called him names, but he liked that she did. She might have been his girlfriend if her family hadn't moved over the Christmas break. He wondered where she was now, what she was doing, if she was happy. It was good to remember those times with her. When he got out of this mess, he thought he would look her up. He wasn't sure where they moved too. Midland maybe. Someone would know. He would find her. Yeah, that's what he would do. He would look her up. Hell, maybe he would marry her and live that happily ever after bullshit that seemed to be so important to people. If there was any justice in the world, she would be happy...and single. Then he thought of the guy in high school that tripped him as he walked to the front of the class to hand in his six-weeks test in biology. He remembered how everyone laughed when he fell into the desk of a cheerleader. And how she had jumped up and yelled how gross it was that he had touched her. Maybe he would look him up too. See how his life had turned out. If there was any justice in the world, he was fat and bald and married to that cheerleader who was now fat and bitchy. If there was any justice, they were making each other miserable and living in hell on earth. He really hoped for justice.
It had been cold for a long time. All he could see out any window was white. Maybe he would take a little nap. That might make passing the time easier. It briefly crossed his mind that he heard once that when people freeze to death, they get sleepy and just drift off. It was cold as hell, but shit, not cold enough to freeze to death. And besides, someone would be coming along soon to pull him out of this mess. Yeah, a nap was just the thing. He pulled the velvet covers up around his chin and laid his head over on his passenger. The wood was hard but not so cold. Sleep came quickly...
The headline in the Lubbock Avalanche Journal read, Missing Local Man Found Dead, The accompanying article gave the who, what, when, and where.
David Brashear, 32 of Lubbock, who had been reported missing by his employer, Resthaven Funeral Home, five days ago, was found dead yesterday. His body was found in his vehicle at the bottom of a ravine eleven miles west of Cloudcroft, New Mexico. Communication Director with the New Mexico State Police said in a statement that weather was a contributing factor in the accident that led to Brashear's death. Cause of death is unknown pending an autopsy by the State's coroner's office. Brashear was making the return trip to Lubbock after picking up the remains of Rebecca Sue McBride, 31 of Midland. McBride was killed Saturday in a skiing accident in Cloudcroft. Her family had made an appeal for help in finding Brashear on Wednesday's Today Show on NBC. Raymond Davis, of Cloudcroft, moved by the appeal, organized a search group of a local snowmobile club. The group found the vehicle when a member noticed what he thought was a car antennae. The vehicle was buried in more than 30 inches of snow. Services for both Brashear and McBride are pending.