The Drought by Patricia Fulton, Extended Imagery Read Free Book Online Page B

belt buckle ripped into his raw back. The buckle descended again and again, until he lost count of the blows.
    He floated just below consciousness, noting with bemusement the rhythm of the beating had changed. Under the added weight of the buckle, the whistle had become more of a warble. With each thud of the buckle, the smack had more of a wet sound. The rhythm now went something like , warble, squish, just breathe. Reality, coated in pain, slipped away and he chuckled. Hey what starts with a warble, ends with a squish and is covered completely in red?
    “Barry.”
    The single word, whispered from the walls, emanating from the dull gray twilight of unconsciousness, where he nearly slept.
    The voice, melodious, soft, warm came again.
    “Barry.”
    His eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. Tiny red spots speckled the white cotton sheets. He rubbed at one with his finger. Feeling his lids grow heavy, he started to drift away again.
    Urgent, beckoning.
    “Barry!”
    *
     
    His eyes rolled open, searching the depths of the shadows for the voice. The room was cold. He could see his own breath coming in short, tight, expulsions. These exhalations filled the room with a light mist and through this celestial fog he saw her for the first time.
    She waved her hand, motioning for him to come to her. Her movements were languid, and somehow as melodious as her voice. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders. He stopped there, unwilling to allow his eyes to drop beyond those soft shoulders. Barry, bring me the brush, the silver one on the bureau. She beckoned again. Everything in him ached to join her but he was afraid to move. The belt had a way of snaking around the body and finding places that were harder to heal than the back.
    Understanding poured from her eyes. She looked past him. He followed her gaze. His father was standing over the bed breathing raggedly, the belt hanging from his hand. Puzzled, he looked down at the bed where his own body lay, a bloodied mess. His arm was outstretched, reaching toward the corner of the room where she waited. He stood, frozen, between the carnage on the bed and the vapory presence of a woman who by all earthly rights could not be there. His eyes passed over the bloodied back of his body and followed the outstretched arm until they made contact with her eyes. Familiar eyes. She opened her arms and whispered, “Come to me, Barry.”
    Unwillingly, his eyes dropped away from hers, falling past her soft shoulders and tangled hair. Traveling downward, his eyes followed the gauzy lines of her nightgown until the white material turned crimson. His lips trembled with an old pain, an old memory.
    Arms open, she waited.
    With a ragged sob, he walked into his mother’s embrace.
     

Chapter Five
     
    Reserve, Louisiana
     
    Nathan Singer woke with a start. His eyes snapped open as his clock shuttered its way from 3:59 to 4:00 a.m. The details of the nightmare broke into pieces then scurried away like roaches fleeing for cover. He lay there for a moment, floating on the wispy edge of wakefulness and sleep, trying to bring the fragments back together. Heat was coming off the front grill of the Mercury; a roiling mass of hot air. He closed his eyes. Above him the ceiling fan cut through the thick humidity. A giant tumbleweed rolled down the road, pushed along by the swelling pocket of heat. The road was lined with brown grass and dying trees. From this barren landscape a voice whispered, “It’s gonna get hot. Mighty hot”
    If there was more to the dream his subconscious wasn’t willing to give it up. He stretched, swung his legs off the bed and made his way to the bathroom to relieve himself. On his way from the bathroom to the kitchen he stumbled over his dog, Agador. A jolt of pain traveled up his back and through his neck. The accident in the marsh had left him with a nagging case of whiplash. The large hound lumbered up from the floor wagging his tail apologetically then in a personal gesture of