Good Wayne

Small Quiet Town, My Ass

So, last night, close to midnight, I was in bed, reading my Zombie Survival Guide, with the windows are open, fan is on --it's a wicked nice night (right before the heat that's supposed to be coming) When I hear what sounds like a group of kids walking by outside. I think, Oh, great. Bored teens on a summer night. I half keep an ear out, because the street it pretty dark and we've got a barn that's separated from the house and just never know what kids will think of as amusing that late at night.

A few minutes later I think I hear a motorcycle start somewhere down the street. Or maybe it was a moped? It lacked the real base rumble of a motorcycle engine. It starts off down the street, toward our house.

As it passes by, it skids and there's a thump. It's loud and I think for sure it's dumped in the street. But it squawks and starts off again real quick. The whole thing wakes up Tine with a start. Tine grumbles a "What the hell was that?"

I tell her I think it was some kids screwing around on a motorcycle.

Then we hear somebody saying something outside, only I can't make it out. At first I assume it was more than a couple of kids out there and they're messing around. But Tine says it's TheBoy. She's not fully awake yet, so I tell her it's outside, still thinking it's a group of kids. She's insistent and I say,"No, it's definitely outside."

I get up to look out, even though it's dark and there are no streetlights.

I say again, that's it's outside, and we both listen. She nods and agrees it's outside. I tell her that I think it's some kids on a motorcycle.

Then Tine says, "Is someone calling for help?"

It slowly comes together. She hears the "help me" again. Her eyes get wide.

"I think someone got hurt," she says, somewhat panicked.

Now I can clearly hear a "help me" from outside. I don't actually remember what got said after that. We got moving and I threw on some pants as we raced downstairs. I know she asked me if she should call 911 and I said a strong, "Yes, of course."

I flick on the outside lights and open the door.

I jaunt down the driveway. Honestly, I'm expecting to find some teenager in the road and I start to worry about what I might see, because I can hear the "Someone, help me please!" and it sounds like a teenager's weak cry for help. But, out of the darkness staggers a woman. She's probably 5 feet,dark skinned and bleeding from the head.

She's still calling for help, I say, "Hey, hey, are you okay?"

As I get over to her, I reach out to her and say, "Come over here and sit."

She grabs my arms and I try to get her to sit down, but she doesn't. "Can you drive me to Taunton?"

"What?" I say and she lets go of my arms, streaking them with blood. She starts staggering around in a circle.

"Someone's coming," I say, trying to be reassuring.

"Don't call the fucking cops," she says and sort of twirls.

"What? We called rescue," I say, and she sort of hunches over and repeats that I shouldn't call the police.

Now I start to notice her slurred speech and the way she's staggering around. She keeps asking me to driver her to Taunton. And then swearing at me some more when I say no.

I take a few steps back up the driveway. She's clearly not just suffering from the fall.

I look at my arms and there's a solid, five-inch streak of deep red on my left and my right is all a mess of smeared blood.

"Why can't you just fucking drive me to Taunton," she screams at me. And then she starts saying she'll walk. Now she starts asking me which way Taunton is, but I keep trying to just get her to sit down. I keep my distance. She swears at me some more and yelling at me to tell her which way to go. Finally, I think: Fuck this, why am I trying to help this crackwhore who keeps swearing at me?

She yells at me one more time to give her directions. "Fine, go down that way, take a left and keep on going." There's no way she won't run into the police that are coming.

Almost as soon as I finish, a patrol car come whipping around the corner, lights flashing, barreling down to the house. The cops hop out and see her and start talking to her. They can't get her to sit either. Another cruiser comes whipping around and stops behind the first one. Two more cops get out. Then an ambulance arrives a few seconds later.

I wait for one of the cops to come over to me. I tell him what I heard and what I think happened. I think I said something about her being a little messed up. I'm not 100% sure, actually, because as soon as I'm done, I say, "Is it okay if I go in and wash this blood off?"

The cop turns around and shines his light on my arms.

Up until this point, I was a little too excited to really think about the blood. My adrenaline was going from the moment we thought some kid might be lying in the street, seriously hurt.

He looks it over and says, "You should probably have the paramedics wash it off with an alcohol wipe."

"Oh," I say and it starts to sink in that I've got someone else's blood on me. Someone who's starting to look more and more like your stereotypical crackwhore.

The cop turns back to me and says, "Naw, you can probably just wash it off inside, just use some alcohol."

He walks back over to the women. He actually uses that tough cop, stern voice to tell her to Sit Down and she does.

I walk back inside, now holding my arms out like they're radioactive. Once inside I wash them down with soap and Tine can't dig up any alcohol. I finally find some of that waterless soap. It's mostly alcohol and I wash them down again.

What the heck, three times can't hurt.

We watch the cops and the ambulance from inside. They put the woman in the ambulance and the cops are all talking. They sweep the area with flashlights and talk some more. They're out there for about 15-20 minutes, lights flashing, before finally all driving away.

I figure our neighbors probably think Tine finally snapped and killed me.

Crack-whores in the neighborhood? Time to move ain't it?

Honestly. This stuff seems to happen to you a LOT more frequently that it happens to me. Am I just that sheltered down here in Nowhere, RI? Or did you fall asleep reading your Zombie book, and this was all just a dream?

My whole life is filled with these tiny bits of surrealism.

It's a psychadelic, musical waiting to happen, baby.