every time my brother opens his mouth, the sound of helicopters crashing comes out.
I didn’t know I had a brother until last week. My dad ran out on me and mom when I was young and now at the age of 36, I get a phone call from an attorney saying my dad left a house to me.
I didn’t know exactly what to expect, but after hammering out the details, I made my way to the house- it was located in the mountains about 45 minutes outside of Nederland, Colorado. The drive was long and uneventful, the only thing that really gave me any grief was the traffic on the way there.
I turned off the main highway after making my way through the winding mountains- the radio had long since faded to static, an auditory reminder of the emptiness of space, and a river raged rapidly to my right.
there are screams now.
The path to the house was about 3/4 of a mile long. After creeping along slowly, a small two story house came to view. It was not an impressive house by any means, but it was certainly better than most cabins. It appeared as though it had a basement made of cinder blocks, with a second story made of wood perched aloft the concrete. The wood was weathered with wind and rain. The basement was partially above ground- the backside of the house was swallowed by a hill. I honestly wasn’t sure whether I’d call it a basement or first floor, but basement is what came to mind first, so I decided to stick with.
I realized I’d been focused on the house for a minute or two now, my mind wondering exactly what to expect. Mom had died a few years back, and over the years, I didn’t ask questions about dad, and she certainly didn’t tell any stories. I had just kind of given up on the idea that I’d ever know him, and I guess that part was true, but I was hoping I’d learn something about him from the stuff at the house.
The car keys had been sitting in my lap for a moment, the tick-tick-tick sound of the cooling engine slowing down as I sat there. I took a breath and got out of the car. The sound of the engine was the only thing other than the sound of my boots on the gravel. I walked to the faded green door and pulled the key from pocket. I took another big breath in as pushed the key into the lock. I turned the handle, and pushed the door open gently.
i can smell the blood.
It was musty, dusty, and dingy. The fading autumn sunlight barely penetrated beyond the outline of the door. I pulled out my cellphone and turned on the light. I immediately saw a table with a folded piece of paper on it. I walked over to it, noticing a single chair at the table in front of the note. There was also a pen on the table next to the letter. It had my name on it.
I swallowed a seemingly huge lump that had formed in my throat. I wasn’t sure how to feel. I picked up the letter and opened it. I started to read it:
Sean,
I know you don’t really know me, but this is the family cabin. The original burned down a long time ago, and this was built around 60 years ago. I figured the least I could do was leave this to you. Even if you decide to sell it (I’m sure it’ll fetch a fair price), maybe you’ll stay a night or two. Maybe you’ll even decide to keep it.
There isn’t much here as far personal mementos go- I am not one for that- but the kitchen is stocked with canned goods and the furniture here is serviceable.
I will not bore you with sorrys or try to explain anything- I’m too tired for that. I will say that I love you though, and it wish it could have been different.
Dad
I was crying because I was mad. I was mad that even when he knew he was going to die, he couldn’t even tell me why he had left. Jaw clenched tight with rage, I folded the letter and put it into my pocket. That was the only piece of communication I’d only ever gotten from my dad, and as shitty as it was, I wanted to save it.
every time my brother opens his mouth, the sound of helicopters crashing comes out.
I looked around for where the generator might be. There was a likely looking closet just off to left of the entrance, and I started there. Sure enough, the generator was there. I turned and went back to the car to grab the gas can I’d brought with me.
Walking back to the car, my mind went to the lawyer who had given me the keys to the house. He had explained the details of the property- 12.2 acres sitting 45 minutes outside of town. The cabin itself had 2 bedrooms, one bathroom, a living and a large kitchen. I was stunned. Not only had my died, but I had just gotten divorced 2 weeks before it happened. I was living month to month at a shitty apartment.
Truth be told, the house up here on the mountain sounded perfect. A place of my own. A place to reset. My mind was thinking of the future for the first time in a long time since my marriage had started to fail. I had the gas can in my hand and got inside, when I thought I heard a shuffle come from below me. I brushed it off as a mouse or something, and went back to filling the generator up.
After carefully filling it up, I pulled the rope to get it started. It took three tries, and I thought I dislocated my shoulder, but I got it started. As it chugged to life, a dim light bulb came to life in the closet I was standing in. It had a large vent near the ceiling to vent the fumes, and a fan inside the closet kicked on to push the deadly gases out. Satisfied that the generator wouldn’t kill me, I closed the door and brought my bags inside.
I wanted to walk around the house and get an idea of what was there, but I was tired from the drive. I went into the kitchen, which was adjacent to the little living room I was currently in. I flipped an old light switch on the wall, and yet another light bulb sleepily came to life. I opened a cupboard and found nothing but spiderwebs, but on my second try, I found some canned goods. The Spaghetti-Os caught my eye, and feeling nostalgic, I grabbed those. Mom always made those for me on Sundays.
I rooted around until I managed to find a pot. I had brought a small camp stove with me, but a tried the stove- an old gas range. Miraculously, it lit almost instantly. I smiled. It felt like it had been a long time since I’d smiled, and just then, in that moment, I needed a little win. If that propane tank outside had enough juice left to heat up Spaghetti-Os, that was the win that I needed.
i see them coming down from the sky.
The can opener was in the cupboard with the canned goods, which was an idea that had never occurred to me. I got the can open and with a somewhat sensual slurp, the noodles and sauce slid unceremoniously from the can and into the pan. I opened a few empty drawers before I found one with a few eating utensils in it. I settled on a large tablespoon and after a few minutes, I took my dinner for one into the living room and sank into a dusty old couch. I turned on a lamp and ate my dinner in silence.
As I swallowed the last bite, I heard another sound from the basement- almost like a box being moved. With my belly full and the sun long since gone, I was tired and full. I wanted to light a fire and go to sleep. I decided on just getting some sleep.
I unrolled my sleeping bag and laid it out on the couch. I hadn’t even gone into the bedrooms or the basement, but I was too tired to check it out. I wasn’t just physically tired- I was emotionally exhausted. It turns out, getting divorced and finding out your estranged dad takes a lot out of you. I took my glasses off, and I put them on the table, thinking about the next two months off of work, free from anything. It sounded nice.
I am walking to the front door of the house. The clicking from the engine is long gone, there is no sound as I walk to the door. I open it. I walk to the couch. I see me sleeping on the couch. I lean forward to look at me.
My eyes open and there is a man standing over me. He has two holes where his eyes should be, or maybe it’s just dark. I hear his mouth open and a scream comes out. Not a scream. There’s metal creaking and groaning, and an explosion. The sound hurts my ears, then my head, then my heart. I want it to stop.
I fall to the floor from the couch, and I wake up. Frantically trying to get out of my sleeping bag, I wake up a bit more. It was just a nightmare. The sun was out, and in the distance, a bird was chirping ever so softly.
Sitting on the floor, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I hear another scrape come from the basement, this one sounds bigger.
I’ll have to check that out today.