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He's got a motorcycle. Get after him or I'll have you shot. You mean blow up the building. From this moment on, none of you are safe. New episodes every Wednesday, wherever you get your podcasts. A trailer hitch replaced my head. I have no memory of the moments before the crash, but somehow my car ended up beneath a pickup truck, which was wedged under a semi-trailer in front of it.
The pickup's rear bumper crushed my windshield. I died on impact. The invading truck smashed my head like a grape, and when the dust settled... The ball of the hitch was sticking out from the ragged remains of my neck. I did not bother to check where my head went, if there was anything left of it. I was too occupied with my son, Ty, hanging unconscious across his seatbelt in his backseat booster. He wasn't moving.
I held a finger under his nose and felt the faintest breath wrap around my invisible skin. Still alive, but not for long. No one was coming to check on him. I didn't know if the other drivers could even get out of their vehicles. People slowed as they passed our wreck but did not stop. Because of a small-town stoplight some miles back, traffic came in waves.
Sometimes a whole minute would pass without a car, then a dozen would pass at once. Had anyone called 911? I had no way of knowing without leaving my son, and I didn't know if I would be able to return to him. I felt like I'd been allowed to stay on Earth long enough to save him. But how? I reached for the steering wheel, pressed against my blood-soaked shins, drew from an energy source previously unknown to me.
sort of radiating heat, and pressed the horn. Miraculously, despite the car's front end being flattened, the horn blared loudly. I heard a sound and sensed another consciousness aimed toward us. When I recognized the energy of the trucker's soul, I realized how faint my son's was. He needed help fast. I blared the horn again.
The trucker stumbled to the back of his trailer a moment later. One of his hands shot up to his forehead when he saw the driver of the pickup as dead as me and probably in similar shape. The trucker started waving frantically at every vehicle that passed us. Still, no one stopped to help. Probably none of them knew how. Surely one of them must have at least called for help. The trucker reached our car and only glanced at me before deciding I was gone. Then he saw my son.
God bless that man, his own injuries suddenly seemed to disappear as he yanked and pulled at my son's door, screaming in desperation. The bent frame held it shut. I had to do something. I tried to trigger the electric window, but the wiring must have been damaged. The trucker stepped halfway into the roadway to try to flag someone down. This new display of urgency finally caused the very next car that appeared to stop behind us.
A man about my age jumped out of the driver's seat and a woman of similar age stepped out more hesitantly opposite him. The man ran to the trucker, who pointed at our car and shouted, The man jogged over and tried the door same as the trucker with equal results. My son's star flickered. I touched him, and in the same way I would have once prayed for him, I felt a warmth of love spread to him.
Only now I could see it flowing out of me, filling his star with new light. But the warm glow from me could not keep pace with Ty's fading. I put my other hand on him and lowered my forehead to touch his hair and forced everything in me into his dying light, but it was like trying to blow up a balloon with a hole in it. My sun began to wither beneath my hands.
I couldn't see them, but I sensed the woman go into the backseat of her car where a child waited. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I sensed her anxiety and his fear. I thought, Lady, there's another little boy over here who needs you a lot more right now. I thought of my own wife at home having no idea anything had happened yet. If she had even an inkling that her son was at risk,
She'd already be speeding toward us despite the 60 or so miles in between. The man who stopped ran around the rear bumper, almost sliding down into the ditch beside us. He clambered to the other rear door and pulled. Thank the lord it fell off. The man climbed into the backseat and, even though I didn't need to, I moved out of his way. You're not supposed to move someone who might have hurt their back or neck, right?
I still do not know Ty's injuries, nor did anyone else, but this man, this wannabe good Samaritan, without checking, unbuckled my son and dragged him out of the car. Crying out without being heard, I supported my son's head and neck as he was pulled, limp, across the bumpy ground. We dragged him up the ditch to the shoulder and laid him behind the wreck. Kim, go get the first aid kit.
the man said to his wife as she ran toward us. Is he breathing? asked Kim. The man yelled, I don't know yet, just go get the kit and keep Grant back. He couldn't bear the thought of his son seeing mine in such a state. How could that have been on his mind with another child dying in front of him? I reached down to feel my son's breath again, but the man moved his head in my way to listen for it. What do you think?
asked the distraught trucker, bracing himself against my car. He's not breathing, the man muttered. Emmett, where's the kit? yelled Kim. Oh god, these incompetent morons. I watched car after car pass by because nobody was out there flagging down help anymore and, oh look, somebody already stopped to help. Everyone was just slowing down to gawk again.
And because the so-called Good Samaritan had his back to the road, none of them could see my poor son laying motionless in the gravel. I wanted to reach into every one of their cars and yank the steering wheel hard enough to send them off the road. I was helpless, losing my son to these strangers who were doing everything wrong. They were killing him, and I just had to watch. I moved it under the passenger seat, remember? Emmett yelled back.
Kim yelled, got it, and started running back to us. But it was no use. I watched Ty's star dissipate. I felt him go. It felt like someone tightening a tie around my neck and squeezing, until suddenly the tie ripped and tore away. I fell to my knees and cried into the void. For a second. Everyone turned to look at me, but a moment later they all turned their attention to the rising sirens heading our way. The police arrived first.
Then fire, then the ambulances. Ty and the pickup driver were put in body bags. I'm sitting next to Ty now, making sure the paramedics treat his broken body gently even though he's not in it anymore. He's so cold now, so empty. I think of his mother, still home, expecting to see his joyful smile soon, having no idea that his smile is forever locked behind a pair of stiff, blue lips now.
I sense her becoming anxious. We should have been home by now, and she's heard nothing from me. I'm listening to the police interview the Kinmans, the family who stopped to help. Some good they did. I hear Emmett say they did everything they could, but if that's the case, then why did they stop? If they couldn't actually help, why not leave the opportunity open for someone who might actually have known what to do?
Ty was alive before Emmett started messing with him, and now he's dead. Kim takes their son Grant out of the car and walks him away from the accident to stretch his legs. They've been held up for nearly an hour by the police and fire departments. They're walking back now. Lucky nobody on the highway accidentally swerved and hit them. It would serve Emmett right. watching his family get destroyed and having no power to stop it. How dare he fail my family and get to return unscathed to his own.
The wrecking crew finally shows up to pull our three vehicles apart. The fire department has to finish extricating the pickup's hitch from my chest first. It's grisly to watch, so I don't. I don't really care what happens to my body anymore. At one time I might have, but this experience has shown me just how little our physical bodies matter. That's why, when Ty's remains are closed up inside the back of an ambulance,
I feel no desire to go with them. They'll be treated in accordance to policy and procedure, and there's nothing I can do to change that, even if I wanted to. What I'm more interested in is making sure this Kinman family understands there are consequences for your actions. My son is dead because of these people who claimed that they did everything they could. I'm curious to see if that's true. What will they be willing to do, say, for their own child?
I follow the Kinmans into the family's little car. An officer guides us onto the highway and we speed toward the oncoming night. I wonder where we're going and if my rage will allow us to get there. To soothe myself, I tell myself it would be meaningless to crank the wheel now. If I'm going to punish these people, I want them to know why. It's going to take more than a car accident.
I'm sitting in the back seat with their son, Grant. He's probably a year younger than Ty with blonde hair like his mother's. Ty's hair was dark like mine. Grant is playing a game on an iPad which is lit up far too bright. I can't believe his parents aren't asking him to turn it down. It's lighting up the whole interior and flashing with every movement on the screen. The parents aren't talking, which infuriates me. I can feel their emotions.
i want them to unpack them i want them to stew in their failure and boil in their guilt i want to see emmets shed at least one tear for the innocent boy he failed to save But the first words out of Emmett's mouth, after miles of silence, are, think we should stop for food somewhere or just order in at the hotel. Kim Kinman could have redeemed herself with a bit of remorse.
by saying she was too upset to eat but instead she casually replies let's just order in i'm not very hungry i ball up my fists listening to them make dinner plans as if nothing weighed on them in the slightest I turn to look at Grant and smack the back of his iPad right as he leans in to examine something on the screen. It knocks against the bridge of his nose, causing him to cry out in pain. Both parents up front turn to check on him.
Both show a type of concern that I did not see on the side of the road. This further enrages me. I want to take hold of the steering wheel again, but remind myself that would defeat the purpose. What if they all died, or only the parents? They're the ones I want to suffer. I have nothing against the zombie-ish boy seated beside me. I wish I didn't need to hurt him.
I feel the only way I can move on is to avenge my son. When I search for his soul, I can't find it. I wonder if he's being held in some purgatory waiting for his father to balance the scales and release him. My whole life I watched movies and read books about characters who seek revenge only to find it brings them nothing but pain in the end.
I now feel whoever wrote those books and movies never actually experienced a loss unjust enough to create the feeling I have now. I can't even grieve, my son. This need is too powerful. It's blocking everything else. It's what I am now. I wonder, is there any of my old self still in me? Or did I leave him behind in the wreckage?
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Join me, Mike Brown, and co-host Matthew Stockton every Monday for the Dark Poutine podcast as we tell dark stories from north of the 49th parallel with the Odd Away Game covering more international cases. You can listen to Dark Poutine for free wherever you go. We're at the hotel now. I sit with Kim and Grant in their car parked in the loading zone. We all watch Emmett check in through the double sliding doors.
I think about doing something now. Maybe just strangling the kid and making Emmett come out to find Kim distraught and his child unconscious. Make him feel helpless like I did. He can listen to his wife scream her sanity away like I am sure I will hear mine do in the coming hours. Regardless of how geographically far I am from her, I have no doubt I will hear her cries.
She's feeling increasingly anxious back at home. Maybe it's because she hasn't heard from me, or maybe it's because this link I have to her goes both ways, and perhaps she shares one with Ty too. As Emmett hands the front desk clerk his credit card, I turn away to look at Kim instead. She looks tense, probably trying to forget about my dead son, as she has the privilege to do.
That won't be an option for me, will it? But my examination of this pensive woman triggers a thought I don't want but cannot ignore. What if that was my wife sitting there watching me check in while our Thai sleepily tapped an iPad in the back seat? What if I had stopped for a stranger and tried my best only to have a child die in front of me?
I wouldn't have stopped. Or if I had, I wouldn't have inserted myself in business I didn't know how to handle. I would have dialed 911 and let them tell me what to do. I would have tried flagging down more help, maybe. Little Grant, should his fate have been swapped with ties, would now be in the hands of doctors instead of a mortician. I harden my resolve against further intrusions.
I am already inside room 112 when the family rolls their suitcases up to the door. I hear the card reader beep and the handle turns. I am waiting just on the other side of the door to watch them file in one by one. looking into their eyes and studying their faces to learn how they are feeling. Have they already forgotten the brutal tragedy on the side of the road?
Only Grant's eyes show a vacancy which indicates his brain could be back there on the shoulder, watching my son's final seconds tick away. His parents look exasperated with each other. Kim hustles past Emmett to get into the room. She kicks off her shoes and sits on one of the queen beds, saying, I don't care how long it'll take to get here. I am not getting back in that car again. I'm sitting right here for the rest of the night. Aw, what about swimming?
Grant whines, suddenly growing present. Hang on, Grant, Emma says. Kim, I'm just saying, there's an Outback Steakhouse in the next parking lot over. We wouldn't have to get back in the car, we could just... Kim jabbed a finger into the mattress, stating... I am not leaving this room. We're... Her eyes wandered to Grant before she finishes. Safe in here. So it does bother her.
My son's death is spoiling her precious peace of mind, but it's nothing more than an inconvenience to her, I can tell. My sweet child's death has ruined her little trip. That's what she cares about. That's what she mourns. She has to pay. Grant says, I'm not even hungry. I don't want to go to a restaurant. See, it's two against one, says Kim.
Emmett sighs and turns halfway away from the others. He's still standing near the door, and when he turns, he catches his reflection in the tall mirror on the wall next to him. He flinches slightly. and for a moment I wonder if he's seen me standing next to him in the reflection. But I see him grin slightly to himself and subtly shake his head in embarrassment. He feels shame for jumping at his own reflection.
but apparently not for failing to save my son's life. He must pay too. You know what? He concludes. I'm not actually that hungry either. I think, uh... Well, never mind. So we can go swimming? Grant asks hopefully. Emmett says, Yeah, the pool closes soon anyway, so we should probably go now if we're gonna... Grant cheers. This little boy bears no blame for what happened to my son, but it still irks me to see him so happy and excited. Ty loved swimming too, especially at hotels for some reason.
The family opens up their suitcases and begins changing into their swimsuits. Kim goes into the bathroom while Emmett and Grant simply turn their backs to each other. Emmett finishes first and goes into the bathroom too, leaving me alone with Grant for the first time. I approach him as he slips his shirt over his head. He turns his head in my direction, and his eyebrows suddenly pinch together. He cocks one ear toward me, then freezes.
With a shiver, he slowly slips his shirt back on. There's a moment when his shirt is still around his head while his arms are up in the air. that I consider grabbing the shirt and twisting until it's tight around his neck. Grant struggles with his shirt for a temptingly long time. My hand hovers right behind his neck. If I grab the shirt, I'll have to commit to the full act.
otherwise I'll give my presence away. I'll lose little moments of defenselessness like this. Grant already seems able to sense me on some level. I can't have anyone getting too nervous before my deed is done. My hand hovers, hovers, hovers, and I drop it. The boy is too innocent. I can't bring myself to harm him by my own hand.
Instead, I resolve to create a circumstance in which his death will be unavoidable. I don't want to touch him myself. I suppose, maybe, there is a piece of the old me still in here somewhere. How does weather work? What's the secret to having a great conversation? How do most wealthy people get that way? These are just a few of the topics we've recently covered on my podcast, Something You Should Know.
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Check out Bloody Good Horror. We're keeping up with what's new, what's hot, we're covering the trends, and we're doing it from a place of love, but we're doing it with a critical eye. We've seen it all, and it gives us a perspective that helps us when covering the genre. We're also here for the horror curious.
those who might not have the time to get to the theater every week, or if you're just too chicken to watch the blood fly. Bloody Good Horror comes out every Friday, wherever you get podcasts, and we hope to see you there. On the way to the pool, Emmett blows up a pair of arm floaties for Grant. Apparently, he can't swim on his own yet. I realize I cannot smell the chlorine, which I'm sure must be as overpowering as usual to those using their earthly senses.
Kim notices the hot tub as soon as we all enter the pool room. She sighs with satisfaction. Her shoulders drop. Emmett puts an arm around those shoulders and whispers something in her ear. She giggles. Wait a second, buddy, Emmett tells Grant. Kim enters the hot tub, shivering with delight. She sits down, peers over the edge, and says, I can see it pretty easily. Emmett nods and tells Grant,
Mom and I are going to sit in the hot tub, but you can swim in the pool as long as you keep your floaties on, okay? We'll watch you. Okay, Grant replies. It's almost too perfect. What should I do? Let the air out of the floaties and let him sink? There must be half a dozen ways I could kill him without laying a finger on him. I just need to be creative. Emmett joins Kim, who cuddles up against him under the swirling suds. Their faces portray bliss.
My son, their failure couldn't be further from their minds. Well, their son is the first thing on mine. He steps to the edge of the pool, adjusts his blue floaties, and dips his toes into the water above the top stair. He steps into the water, his ripples breaking around me. He looks out at the water, unwittingly staring straight through me. But then he glances nervously back toward his parents. I stand and watch him step out of the pool. He joins his parents instead.
Once they convince him the water won't boil him. Now there's an idea. Where's the heater, I wonder? Grant steps into the hot tub. His parents quickly realize he's incapable of using the built-in seat with his floaties on, so after assuring Kim he won't let the child drown in the artificial current, Emmett slides them off.
He tries to toss them by where the family left their shirts and shoes, but they bounce underneath the table before coming to rest. Emmett shrugs and turns his back to them. What an opportunity. I have no reason to believe the parents will allow their child near the pool without his floaties, but I decide to remove them just in case. I watch the corner of Kim's left eye as I slowly roll the floaties toward the shimmering pool.
She suddenly jerks her head toward me, one eyebrow raised, but I've already dropped both floaties out of her view under the lip of the pool. She rolls her eyes as she decides they were playing tricks on her. I open the nozzles and pull all the air out of Grant's floaties. When they're empty, I drag them to the bottom of the deep end. It's only five feet deep, but little Grant is not even four feet tall.
A few minutes pass. I wait near the hot tub stairs. Kim is rubbing her foot up and down my shin, thinking it belongs to Emmett. Finally, I hear Grant tell his parents, I want to swim now. Okay, just bring your floaties over here so I can put them back on first, Emmett replies. Grant gets out and pats his wet feet across the floor to the table. Um, Dad? My floaties disappeared.
They just disappeared, huh? Emmett turns around with a smug grin, but his face quickly changes. Wait, where'd they go? Didn't you see them land by the table? He asks Kim. Oh, I think I see them, Grant says, pointing into the deep end. Pointing at me. They're at the bottom of the pool for some reason. What? Emmett gets out, sloshing water all over the deck.
He stands next to Grant and follows his finger. Huh. Yep, there they are. That's so weird. I thought I saw something move out of the corner of my eye, but I thought it was like a person, Kim says. I'm astonished. She says, it must have been the air conditioning blowing them into the pool? Emmett replies, no, they're all the way at the bottom like they just deflated and sank.
They were just those cheap ones from Walmart, Kim says. I'm glad he wasn't wearing them when they started leaking. Shivering from the temperature difference, mouth hanging open, Emmett says, That's insane. I should sue. Or buy our child quality safety equipment from now on, Kim retorts. I find her insufferable as well as her useless husband. These are the people to whom my son lost his life.
I wish, to punish them, I could simply kill them instead. But then they won't suffer like they need to. But I want to swim, Grant whines. Emmett places a hand on his shoulder and says, I know. Tell you what, we only have a few more minutes anyway. Why don't you just stay right here by the stairs where you can touch? Don't go out any further than the stairs, though. Got it? Emmett, that's a terrible idea, Kim scolds.
She clearly has the better instincts. Look, he's right there, Emmett says, gesturing to the pool. He can yell if he gets somewhere he can't touch, right, Grant? The Kinmans argue, and apparently Emmett wins. He's now returning to the hot tub. He's watching over his shoulder as Grant takes his first step into the pool. He's so hesitant, but there's a glint of adventure in his eyes.
He descends the pool stairs cautiously, then begins swirling his submerged arms. Following my resolution not to kill him by hand, I begin plotting ways to draw him deeper into the water. Doing okay, buddy? Emmett calls over his shoulder. I don't hear Grant's response because suddenly an aching bolt of pain cuts into me. I follow the pain's thread, tracking it to a pulsing star I inherently recognize.
It's in agony, flickering, then arrhythmically brightening. She knows. My wife knows our child is gone. I suddenly don't want to be here. I want to be with Ty's mother. I want to be near her, comforting her. I want to offer her everything I have left. But what is left of me? My anger. My hatred. These are feelings she doesn't need right now.
I have to break away from her pain before it dissolves me, but I resolve to be with her soon. I decide I need to abandon the idea of luring Grant to his death. I need to take him to it. I grab one of Grant's swirling arms above the wrist. His eyes go wide. His mouth opens to yell, but it fills with water instead as I drag him into the deep end. He's fully submerged in under two seconds.
His parents haven't noticed anything amiss. How long does it take to drown? The boy is still thrashing after 5, 10, 15 seconds underwater. I harness more energy to hold him down. A renewed ping from my wife comes with it. This time, it comes as a scream. I hear her distant cry of our son's name. It's the sound of her reckoning with the truth that she'll never see or hold her baby boy again. It resonates in me in a way that is both horrid and beautiful.
It is the collision of the darkest tragedy and the purest love. I see Kim's face widen when she notices she cannot see her son in the pool anymore. She slaps Emmett's shoulder and screams her son's name. her son who has mostly stopped fighting me. Her voice harmonizes with my wife's, and the haunting resonance breaks me open without warning. Shedding my skin is how it feels.
I see Emmett as the good Samaritan who stopped, risking his own family's safety and acting swiftly to try to save my son for whom death was already coming. I see Kim as the protector that she is. She reminds me of my wife, whose presence in the car earlier that day likely would have saved me and Ty. She would have seen whatever danger led to our deaths and warned me. I would have never met the Kinmans.
Two good people about to have their lives ripped apart because they tried to help my son. Kim gets her arms around Grant. I lift him toward her, help her carry him to the deck. Emmett is hyperventilating. He drops to his knees and lowers his ear to Grant's mouth. He doesn't deserve this. Kim shakes her head at him and pushes him back, then begins chest compressions.
Emmett turns his son's head so the water sloshing up with each press can spill out of him. I find Grant's star. It's faded, but is much stronger than Ty's before his was flickered out. I extend my energy out to him, offer it to him. He takes it. His star glows brighter. It becomes more present. I hear him cough.
He sputters to life, and after giving him a moment to awaken, his parents embrace him. They share tears of relief, all three of them. Half her mouth muffled against Grant's wet shoulder, Kim says, I couldn't believe it. I thought we were somehow being punished. For that other boy? Emmett asks, already knowing. Kim nods. They listen to Grant breathe long, wheezing breaths in and out.
I'm glad his dad died too, Emmett finally says. Imagine living with that guilt. I just felt it for a few seconds there, and I would not wish that feeling on anyone. I wonder if he had a mom. Kim says. I'm already leaving. Yes, Kim Kinman. He did have a mom. And right now, she needs me. I am at my wife's side now, offering comfort, but she is resisting it like an opposing magnet. In time, maybe she'll be ready to accept it.
I fade back from her over days, weeks, and months. I go back to her whenever her pain begins suffocating her star, and I restore her with energy from my own star, then fade again. I hope she is healed by the time I've given her everything I have. This is what I've been left behind for, I now know. Once I've been depleted, I'll move on. I'll get to join Ty where he is.
And someday, hopefully not someday too soon, his mother will appear there with us. It's something to look forward to. And I can look forward, because I've abandoned the weight of vengeance and blame. I turned inward, accepted everything, even what happened after my death against the rear end of a stopped pickup, as my own fault. It was painful to do, but freeing. Now I feel weightless, waiting until she needs the last of me, which I will give and finally be at peace. You made it out.
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Alright girls, this is the place. We'll get everything loaded over to the boat and we'll lock up the truck. Don't leave anything behind. Wait, is that it? That's where we're going? Yeah, that's it. Seal Skin Rock. Wow. Return to the mysteries in Don't Mind, Seal Skin Rock. Subscribe now to catch the premiere, and we'll see you on The Rock.
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