RED: Tales From The Cafe Volume Two

Tales From The Café Volume Two:

RED

Various Authors

Published by Café Three Zero at Smashwords.

Copyright 2012 Café Three Zero

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Smashwords Edition, License notes

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Table of Contents

Foreword

1 – Killing Red by Clair Evans

2 – Cracking up by Nicola Collins

3 – Maldorian Myth by Neil Stevens

4 – The Shepherd of Myddvai by Heidi McFadden

5 – The Egg by Amanda Garrie

6 – The Gift of Friendship by Claire Mitchell-Tsamados

7 – Vale Dolorum by Nathan LaMorte

8 – Souls by Philip Wilson

9 – No More Red Fire Engines by Richard Kefford

10 – Red Deer by Kelly Bird

11 – Circle of Life by Jim Mcilroy

12 – A Quiet Night In by Richard Gibson

13 – The New Pornography by Mike Gibas

14 – Maybe Next Time by Vayla Berry

15 – Texas Heat by Jobie Baldwin

16 – Lisbeth by Ruth Daykin

17 – Find The Lady by A C Fullwood

18 – Deceit by Joseph P Clarkson

19 – A Life for a Life by Joyce Moyes

20 – Time for a Cuppa by William Barrett

21 – The Last Guardian by Kay Lawrence

22 – Sky in a sparkly world by Angela A Sinclair

Afterword

Foreword

To our readers:

Thank you for choosing to buy the second volume in this wonderful ongoing collection. We have tried to include a wide, diverse range of genres hoping to offer a little something for everyone.We hope you will find this edition even better than the first.

Café Three Zero is an online collaborative literary venture, a publisher of eBooks, and a fertile environment for Creative Writing. We endeavour to bring you aspiring, new, talented authors, allowing you to be the first to discover them. All of our authors were previously unpublished writers before their collaboration with Café Three Zero.

If you would like to find out more about Café Three Zero, our authors, or any future projects and releases, you can visit our website at www.cafethreezero.com

Killing Red

By

Clair Evans

It was hard not to allow my imagination to run into overdrive as I kept going at a moderate speed along the hot and dusty roads. Every couple of seconds I would check my mirrors, and after every bend in the road I would get hopeful that the car was not still following me only to be let down as yet again it came into view through the bright sunlight. The sun and the fact the car was filthy (black or brown or blue? Who knew?), meant I could not see who was driving it.

What possible reason could anyone have to follow me around? The part of my brain that had seen too many films, however, argued that it really was someone out to get me, they would soon run me off the road, rob me, then murder me and steal my brand new truck. After all, the Orion they were in looked like it must be close to being an MOT failure...

After a couple more miles of this ridiculous conjecture about my fate, I started to get very annoyed with whoever was driving the battered old saloon, and decided to put my 2.5 litre turbo diesel engine to the test against it. I put my foot down, and my trusty beast responded with a deep growl. I grinned in triumph as I began to put some distance between me and the offending motorist.

It turned out to be the worst decision I made that day, possibly in my life.

I rounded the bend going too fast to do anything about the huge bay stallion that was dancing sideways along the road, obviously nervous because he could hear my truck bearing down on him. The small figure leading the horse was trying her best to move him over to the verge as far as possible but he was having none of it. He was pulling back more and more on the halter rope. I hit my brakes, but it was too late.

Had the horse continued to bounce along I could probably have swerved around him and escaped with nothing more than an earful from the groom. As Fate would have it, the horse broke free from the groom's desperate hold, stepped backwards and spun around clockwise by 90 degrees – right in the middle of the road my truck impacted with his hind legs. The noise was terrific, much louder than I (for some unknown reason) had expected it to be. My head smacked into windscreen, and my chest thumped into the steering wheel, as I stupidly hadn't been wearing my seat belt. I came to a stop along with the truck, my body almost wedging itself between the steering wheel and the door.

I slumped back into the seat, my head pounding, my ears ringing, and blood trickling down the side of my face. For a few blank seconds I had no idea what had happened, but then my memory rebooted itself and realisation dawned.

As I looked through the windscreen, which was still somehow intact, I couldn't see anything of the horse. Oddly, despite feeling and hearing the impact, my concussed brain told me he had run off.

I looked at the groom, who was standing motionless at the side of the road, holding a hand out as if she still held the rope. She slowly met my gaze, and the bottom fell out of my world as I realised who she was.

Wanting to get out of my truck and go straight to Alison, I opened the door and discovered I hadn't any balance or strength in my legs, and I literally fell out of it. I landed hard on my back, and the combination of dust and a bruised chest meant I could do nothing but lie there and cough painfully for what seemed an eternity. My head was spinning, I felt sick, but all I wanted to do was see if Ali was alright.

Eventually I wobbled my way upright, just in time to see the car disappearing in a cloud of smoke and dust, back the way it had come. An innocent person would have stopped to assist, I thought, but sheer luck - mine bad, his good - had meant they had no need to carry out their evil plans. I had probably just caused myself more trouble than they could have managed.

I lurched around to the front of the truck and the sight before me almost made me fall down again. I forgot all about the car, and Ali. The horse's back end was a mess of broken and twisted limbs and tail hair matted with blood. He was making pathetic efforts to pull himself up, but his front legs didn't have the strength to pull the dead weight of his shattered hind legs off the ground.

I slumped down to my knees beside him and took a closer look at the injuries. Instantly I knew there was no hope. Bones were protruding through the skin on both legs. Blood loss was massive, and I knew shock would be setting in, in a matter of minutes. He was already beginning to give up his efforts to move as I examined him, and would soon become quiet and dazed. Death would follow very quickly. I knew that even if I could get fluids into this animal in time to stabilize him (which I couldn't, as I didn't have the equipment with me), the opportunities for infection were simply too numerous. The prognosis for open fractures was always very poor, and judging by where these were, and the fact there were two of them, his chances of recovery were virtually nil.

Knowing that any delay would only mean more suffering for the poor creature, I went for my case in the cab of the truck. As dazed and sick as I felt, I quickly found what I needed and prepared the injections. Personally, I preferred to shoot horses because it was instantaneous and painless, but I wasn't carrying a captive bolt pistol, or a gun of any sort, and in my state I wouldn't have been able to guarantee an accurate enough shot for instant death. I was going to have to give a sedative followed by pentobarbital sodium, but it was still a fairly quick method and he wouldn't suffer anything more than the sting of one of the needles.

In the course of administering the shots and assessing the horse, I had kept looking over at Alison, who hadn't moved an inch since it happened. She was visibly shaking, and white as a sheet, and I really wanted to just go to her and take care of her, but my sense of duty towards the animal I had just sentenced to death was too strong. She wasn't going anywhere, she didn't appear to be hurt, and there was nothing I could do for her at that point that couldn't wait a few minutes.

It was soon done. The horse's eyes failed to react when I touched them – he was gone. I stood up, wishing the fog in my head would clear, and turned towards Ali. She looked from the horse to me, and back to the horse again, tears rolling down her cheeks.

'Are you alright? I mean - are you hurt?'

'Adrian - you killed Red...' she said, in nothing more than a whisper.

My heart felt as though it stopped for a second, as I looked back at the horse and, for the first time, really took notice of his appearance. The little star, the scar on his muzzle, the embossed leather halter...my God! I had killed Redemption, the most valuable stallion in the entire county, and the apple of Alison's eye. His owner - Alison's boss, her ex-boyfriend, and my number one enemy - would sue me to the rafters...if he let me live.

I looked back at her, my mouth making movements but no sound coming out. Words totally failed me as I stood there and just looked at the tears welling up in her wide eyes. I don't know how long I would have stayed that way, but Alison broke the deadlock by slapping me so hard across my face that I staggered, and had to sway my way to the truck and lean on it before I fell down again. My head hurt even more, and I knew throwing up wasn't far off. I took some deep breaths; this wasn't the time for surrendering to that particular urge...

When the nausea cleared a little, I made my way slowly back to Ali, and gently steered her towards the grass verge. I told her to sit down and she complied without speaking or trying to hit me again. I fetched a blanket from the truck and laid it around her shoulders – despite the hot day she was still shivering, although her anger had brought some colour back into her face.

After that I had no idea what to do or say, so I decided the best thing was to focus on my 'official' capacity (and also the fact that I was now the offending motorist), so I called the police. But I will never forget the looks Ali kept giving me for the rest of that terrible afternoon.

I had never felt as lonely as I did that evening. After all the chaos, and then the formalities of the afternoon, I was taken home by the police and left to my own devices.

I'd been checked over by a paramedic at the scene, but I didn't want to go to hospital. It seemed offensive somehow, that everyone should be fussing over me when I'd just killed a beautiful, valuable animal and broken the heart of the woman I was falling in love with.

'Unless you have someone to stay with you to watch over you, going home alone with a head injury is not a sensible idea,' he had said, frowning at me as if I was some stubborn child.

But who was likely to sit with me all night now? I did think momentarily of Frank, my only ally in the entire village now, most likely. But something held me back.

'I'll be fine - I'll be sensible and rest, won't drink, or go out, or anything stupid like that,' I had argued. 'I'm not as dumb as I probably look right now...'

He raised an eyebrow at that, and I scowled at him.

He eventually had to give up on me, and the police took me back to the cottage after I'd made an initial statement. I had the full version to look forward to the next day.

The loneliness descended like a thick, icy fog upon me once the front door was closed, and my bottle of Southern Comfort became very tempting. I felt as if the entire world was against me at that moment. After all the hostilities from Alison's boss, the difficulties in letting her know how I felt about her, the efforts to fit into this closed community and the distance from family and friends, I felt as if I had been at a very low point already, and now I had made things a million times worse. Ali would never speak to me again, her boss would turn up on my doorstep with a 12-bore, and the villagers would be right behind him with pitchforks just in case he was the worst shot in the world - this might be 1996, but I wasn't sure the villagers were aware of that.

I could have called Frank, and the idea crossed my mind. But I was afraid that when he found out what I'd done, he would hate me too. He doted on all his animals, especially his horse, and what I'd done would horrify him. I couldn't take any more rejection. I had no defence. I was sure I was guilty of something, and that feeling stopped me calling the one person who had welcomed me to the village like an old friend. He had stood by me when that stupid man, Simon, had spread lies about me out of jealousy, to keep me away from the woman who wanted nothing more to do with him, except as her employer. Frank had never let me down. I didn't want to admit to letting him down.

So I sat there, feeling very ill and sore, going over and over everything from that day, trying to convince myself that I wasn't as evil as I believed they all thought I was.

I had explained to the police about the car, but I'm not sure the officer who took my basic statement believed me, as I was so vague about its appearance. I admitted I had been going quite fast, but certainly nowhere near the speed limit. That was virtually impossible in a truck that size on those lanes.

'You've tried then?' the officer had said, his expression impossible to read – was he being facetious? I decided not to dignify the question with a response.

I had explained about the horse's behaviour on the road, and how he was a skittish sod at the best of times. I made sure they didn't think Ali was in any way to blame for not being able to control Red, and I hoped they would just decide it was a horribly unfortunate combination of factors which led to his death. But I would have to wait until they had a statement from Alison before I could know for sure whether I was in deep shit or not.

I don't remember what time it was when I finally fell asleep on the sofa – my last look at the clock told me it was gone 3am. It was a fitful sleep, full of fleeting dreams of screaming horses and angry Alisons.

A knock at the door had me wide awake in an instant, and I checked my watch. It was just past seven in the morning. As I got off the sofa, I felt a wave of sickness pass over me and I almost fell back down again. Taking deep breaths, I stood still for a few seconds, until the feeling passed, wondering how long I was going to feel like this.

The knock came again, sounding uncertain, and my mind ruled out the idea of it being the police coming to take me away for my crimes.

'Who is it?' I said, and coughed involuntarily, feeling a complaining twinge from my ribs.

'Ali,' came a small voice from the other side of the door as I walked slowly towards it. I straightened up in surprise, and opened it quickly. Bright sunlight stabbed into my tired eyes and I flinched away from it, before looking towards her as they slowly adjusted.

'Ali – are you alright?' I didn't know what else to say, even though it felt like a ridiculous question. Standing back, I waved her in and shut the door.

'I'm fine – don't worry about me. I came to check on you.' She was looking at me with a mix of bewilderment and fear, which only confused me, so I kept quiet and waited for her to continue. 'Frank is on his way over as well. I called him to find out how you were, assuming you would have called him yesterday, and he didn't know anything about it...'

Looking at the floor, I said, 'I couldn't call him. I thought he would go mad.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'Frank? Don't be silly, Adrian. He cares about you - you're like a son to him. He's in a panic at the moment. Which reminds me. Did you unplug your phone?'

I flopped down into a chair and leaned my head forward into my hands, wishing the pain would bugger off. 'Yes. I was expecting nasty calls all night. I hardly dare ask what your boss has said about it all.'

'Fuck him,' she said with enough venom to make me look up at her, wide-eyed. She walked towards me and crouched down in front of me, placing her hands on my knees.

'Adrian, I am so sorry for the way I behaved yesterday – it was just shock I suppose. I know it wasn't your fault. The police