c. 2026 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(9-26)
With his singlewide trailer in flames, T. C. Lincoln was suddenly homeless and bankrupt. Everything of value that he had possessed had now been converted to a blazing heap of rubble and ash. Only his repurposed, work van remained, to offer some sort of shelter. Yet this calamity represented more than simply a loss of worldly possessions. It confronted him with a sense of being expelled from the junkyard oasis as an undesirable element. A stain on the landscape that needed to be bleached and burned out of existence. For a moment, he stood trembling in the yard, with both disability canes offering support. But after a moment to regain balance, he realized that now, no inhibitions were left to block him from seeking vengeance against his adversary on the corner. As a resident forcefully removed from the continuum, he had the genuine liberty to act aggressively, and without any fear of recriminations.
The shadows of night would shield him in this new quest for justice.
With some difficulty, he stumbled down the rustic boulevard, to the lot where Linn Speck made his home. The vintage relic was painted in coats of hardware-store hues, bought on sale. It had the crude appearance of an internet meme depicting hardship and destitution. But served well enough to house the rotund instigator, and his spouse, along with a domesticated, feral feline, a tank of goldfish, and a caged parakeet.
Signage from the 2024 presidential campaign still hung in the front windows. In the driveway, a foreign sedan loafed on bald tires and bad springs. Its muffler hung low, under the automotive carriage.
Lincoln had procured his only weapon from a bedroom closet, while escaping the conflagration. It was an Ithaca Gun, Model 37. A family heirloom, handed down from his grandfather. As he approached the residence of his nemesis, a wild lust for retribution took hold. He was confident and sure of himself as a clandestine presence, hidden in the shadows. It would take only a single blast from his firearm to scatter siding, and alert the occupants of his bold intentions. Then, with a mighty swing of walking sticks, and persistence in his cause, he could even the score.
A light glowed in shades of yellow, from over the kitchen table. Both inhabitants of the longbox hovel were standing on opposite sides of their square furnishing. He took aim with his antique shotgun, and prepared to begin the raid that was about to transpire. Yet before triggering his revenge, a howl of female vocalization stalled this push to be dominant.
Haki had both hands clenched, and stomped her feet on the linoleum in a desperate cadence.
“YOU REALLY BURNED DOWN THAT POOR OLD MAN’S HOUSE! YOU DID IT, REALLY? REALLY? REALLY?”
Linn was flustered by this tone of dissent. He did not appreciate being rudely questioned by his marriage partner.
“Yes I did! That old drunk had it coming! Nobody likes him being on our street. He’s dirty, shaggy, and ugly! Not our kind of people in any way! Believe me, they’ll be calling me a hero for getting him off this property! Say what you will, but I did everyone in this park a favor by striking those matches!”
The middle-aged woman did not agree with her husband. Instead, she shuddered and coughed.
“He sits there by himself every day, drinking his booze. Does that really bother you so much? I mean, he never goes anywhere. He never gets any visitors. He doesn’t make trouble for anybody. What’s the big deal with just leaving him alone?”
Linn protested until his jowls had turned red. Sweat dribbled from his sunken chin.
“He never goes to church with us, up on the hilltop. He won’t come to township meetings. He doesn’t get involved in things like the residential association, except to raise doubts about my legitimacy as a de facto leader of that group. And his political way of thinking is not what we believe. Everybody gets along here, because we all are on the same page. He’s an outsider, and we don’t need outsiders! We don’t need anyone to stir the pot! What we need is good, clean, loyal leaseholders who’ll help make this park a better place! Not a cranky hermit who would be better off living in a gawdamn barn somewhere!”
Haki sighed heavily, before taking a seat at their table.
“I can’t listen to you any longer! Do you understand how disgusting it was to set his trailer on fire? He’s a human being, like you or me...”
Her significant other stiffened with resentment. He did not agree on any level.
“HE IS NOT LIKE YOU OR ME! THAT GUY IS A PIECE OF DOG CRAP! I WOULDN’T THINK TWICE ABOUT WIPING HIM OFF THE HEEL OF MY SHOE! HE’S A MENACE AND A LOSER! HIS FAMILY NEVER COMES OVER TO SEE HIM, WHAT DOES THAT TELL YOU? HE HAS TO GET DRUNK BY HIMSELF, EVERY DAY! WHAT A LIFE HE MUST LEAD! WHAT A HORRIBLE, EMPTY, EXCUSE FOR A LIFE!”
Lincoln stood outside, listening intently. The loud conversation made his stomach churn with a bout of nausea. Yet it softened his resolve to seek satisfaction. His anger faded as the dispute continued to echo, loudly.
Haki wiped away tears, while repeating her objection to the wanton act of vandalism.
“Honey, I haven’t been happy with our relationship in a long time. Maybe it took something like this to give me enough courage to admit that to your face. But this is really the last straw. I don’t want to be married to someone who would burn an innocent man’s home to the ground! That makes me sick inside! And it has me wondering if I made the right decision wearing this ring on my finger...”
Linn sputtered as his wife removed her marital jewelry in a fit of remorse.
“YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS! THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS, MRS. SPECK! I AM THE BEST HUSBAND YOU OR ANY OTHER WOMAN COULD HAVE! YOU’LL REGRET LEAVING IF THAT IS WHAT YOU’VE GOT IN MIND! TRUST ME, I KNOW WHAT I AM SAYING! WALK OUT OF HERE, AND YOU WILL BE SORRY! I GUARANTEE IT! ONE-HUNDRED PERCENT!”
Lingering in the darkness, their displaced neighbor bowed his head. Tonight, he would be sleeping in a motel somewhere, or perhaps, in his customized van. That shift in habits would represent his first taste of liberty in many years. Something that, until now, had only been a construct of fantasy.
Leaving Evergreen Estates behind was not difficult, in the end. He carried no regrets, when turning onto Pine Trail Road, and heading west, toward the junction with a northern route to Lake Erie.
A new chapter of his personal story was about to be written. And he could not wait to read what it entailed.
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