Garage Daze: Jebs Night

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Garage gang finds themselves in the winter nights, hoping for something better.

Jet setters, young midnight prowlers wandering ice-covered blacktop hills, heads full of steam on that frosty winter night searching for something to do, up and down those frozen streets.  Fuckarounds that found themselves in a weekend rental on an iced Tuesday night fire raging in the beautiful stone fireplace, a broken dresser as fuel source. It was an effortless get in for the gang, and a stunning place at that; easily a quarter million; five bedroom two bath, fully furnished gorgeous mountain getaway. They only broke in the house because Schroder’s brother Tony wasn’t aloud at the garage so by and by they all wanted to help him out; no matter how much of a bastard he was.
 Jeb’s father was a drunk but it wasn’t like he was showing the boy how to break into vacation rentals; he was just tired of getting new locks from the locksmith every time Jeb lost his set. Had his father known that Jeb was breaking into rentals and starting fires with kicked in dressers, I’m sure he’d a had his ass whooped something fierce.
So Jeb wandered up the stairs to see what he could find; the others stayed next to the fire, there were four of them total.
“I found a bottle and it looks really old!” Schroder said holding a dusty bottle with seal intact.
“What is it?” Jim said his face stretching in excitement, “Whiskey? Gin? Brandy? Chocolate Liqour?”
“No you derf, its maple syrup.” Schroder scoffed and threw the bottle in the fire and stared at the blue flames.
“Whatever Schroder, Im gunna find a bottle and yer not getting a drop.” Jim Smiled.
“If you find anything at all man, its gunna be your own ass, cause yew can’t see a fuggin thing pass the firelight.” Schroder whined out, still gazing at the blazing epoxy inferno wild-eyed and sniffling his running nose.
“Dewd, remember that sick ass party we went to with those crazy chicks and the hats and Egyptian hookas?” Jim asked out loud. “That dude got thrown through the glass table, broke the hookas?"
“Shut up man! You’ll wake up the neighbors for crying out loud!” Schroder whispered harsh, still hunched, still not breaking concentration from the glow.
Jims face dropped, he felt gloom so he meandered towards the refrigerator, looked atop and through the moonlight in the back saw a nub of cork protruding from a dark bottle. He sauntered his way casually and pretended to look around for something benign, swiftly he reached atop the fridge effortlessly tucking the bottle under his large boarding jacket. It was half full!
Now to sneak off like…a …..faw—fuck.
Clarence appeared from the dark hallway his hands full and saw Jim was trying to be sneaky. So he immediately tapped Jim on the elbow and nudged his eyebrows and head back, in silent agreement they went into the mysterious hallway back towards the window.
“Did ya’ll find innie thang?” Jeb whispered out, his eyes wide in the darkness.
No answer, it was silent and Jeb couldn’t see a thing, he was afraid to turn on the lights, he had a lighter in his pocket but it was risky to flick. One nosey neighbor was all it took, he crept like a panther; an extremely slow, blind panther. Images were opaque and he could just barely make out the walls.  He didn’t know Jim and Clarence had left to finish the bottle of wine Jim had found and split the loot that Clarence had kyped. They inevitably headed back to the garage and found themselves in a pool tournament; Clarence lost everything he stole and Jim got drunk.
Jeb wasn’t afraid of the dark though, or of being alone; he was fine. So he told himself, as the blood raced, pumping his heart, the booming and pounding too; where all he could hear was the crackling of that dresser and the steady thud of his heart.
Im fine, just gotta make my way slowly, there’s a wall here. I know where I’m at, I'm on,"  He thought,  'I’m on Magnolia; or no. Am I on Birch? Shit! I don’t even remember, follow that sound.
He crept down the stairs and didn’t see anyone near the fire, he figured they all left. When he went down the stairs he slipped and caught himself on the hand rail. No sooner did the shock of almost falling down the stairs wear off, a spotlight shined in the window, bounced around the living room and at his legs. His heart dropped to his stomach tasted the acids and like a rocket, shot to the back of his tongue.
  Oh Christ, oh god, shit, He nearly threw up.  Jesus!, whadd I do whaad I do?
Scurrying up the stairs as sleek as possible, he stayed low, now he was the panther, his eyes still hadn’t adjusted and he ran head butt into a small table. It knocked over and he felt the verge of tears swelling up in his chest. The thought of those damn lumps rising from the top of a cartoon characters heads made him want to laugh but the pain made him croak.
 He wished, he wished he’d never come, wished he’d never learned how to pop open windows; damn his father, damn this entire ordeal.
He shimmied under a bed and tried hard to control his breathing he knew something was not right; 'Who shun the light, was it a cop or the neighbor, is the fucking window still open?' He was belly down on the floor boards, his heart beat so hard he swore the house was thumping.
They’d catch him, he’d be sent to juvie and have to do some ridiculous amount of time, end up finally eighteen and have to serve another two years in the big pen. All these horrible images of a grisly cement hell-hole, steel barbed wires, lines of eerie faceless criminals he’d seen in movies engulfed his minds eye and he’d had enough. He needed to get out, if it was the neighbor he could run, no worries, never be caught; if it were the cops, he’d take the bullet right in the back.
He knew the house now and once again made his way down towards the stairs, this time confidently sticking tightly on the wall he crept. The crackling of the fireplace was minimal and he could hear the wind outside howling atop the pines. The bitter smell of soot and burnt epoxy lingered heavily in the air; strangling his brain of oxygen, Jeb felt a sharp searing pain in the middle of his brain. He made his way down the stairs and turned the corner for the dark hallway to the window. He hadn’t seen the flashlight yet and was staying low incase they were still around, shining in on the house. He got to the room with the window and it was shut. Slowly he made his way creeping to the right of the room staying out of the moonlight; he got to the windowsill, peeked his two green eyes over. Nothing.
 Lifting the window he started to slide the wooden frame up, a small bird flew from a tree in front of him. Startled, the window dropped from his grip and he thought his heart was going to explode.
He felt confused, his mind mashed, mixed, mush and all sorts of heavy; the burning epoxy was weighing in and he knew he had to make a break for it. He stepped back from the window put on his hood, ran and dove out head long, covering his face with his arms; he crashed through the window and out onto the frozen snow.  Just barely tucking his neck he landed flat on his back and laid for a second. A man with the flash light popped up from in front of the house and started to make his way through the knee deep snow to the boy.
“What the hell you doing in there kid?” He gruffed out with icicles dangling from his beard, he’d been out here for maybe half an hour. “Are you alright?” He walked slowly and suddenly Jeb sprang to his feet.
“I’m no Foghorn Leghorn you wildly bastard!”  Jeb screamed out and took off behind the house and into the moon blue snow, back to the garage.

Submitted: February 08, 2011

© Copyright 2021 bl woolsey. All rights reserved.

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