Unravel

With his parents gone now, Morgan was left to make some important decisions. While his grandfather was handling everything that was related to the funeral service, Morgan had to consider his whole future.

At sixteen, there is a lot left in your life, presumably. Losing both of his parents to such tragic accidents within six months of each other wreaked havoc on his mind.

The package from his grandfather with the reconstructed photo album of what had been lost in the tornado his father passed in, with the letters from his grandmother to his mother, and his mother to him, it was all so much to take in. He wasn’t used to this much emotion.

Anger, at the world for what had happened, that which was lost and now can never have a chance to be. Sadness would come and stay a while, but then back to the anger. He was never an angry person, so this particular feeling wasn’t easy for him to manage.

He kept reviewing his mother’s letter to him. Knowing that she had received one from her mother when she had turned eighteen, and he should’ve been given his, by his mother, when he turned eighteen. It was too much too deal with while sleeping in his friend’s room. Well, sleeping would be putting it generously.

He’d barely slept in the past week. Earlier that day, receiving that package from his grandfather, Morgan had found he had a lot more to think about now.

Why me? Why now?

He lay there on the cot beside the bed Wolfie was asleep in, his friend and neighbor. He looked at his watch that lay beside his pillow; 2:56am.

Why do I still get to be here? They should have gotten to live too.

The anger welled up inside until he had a thought he had never had in his entire life.

He cautiously moved off the cot and checked to make sure Wolfie was completely asleep. Morgan slid on a plain black t-shirt to add to his black pajama bottoms he’d been laying in. Putting on his watch and sliding his phone into his pocket, he gave a quiet but decisive sigh.

With his nerves on fire, he crept toward the door; every creak an explosion in his body. Why though? He could easily just say he was going to the bathroom. His true intent unknown. But he was a horrible liar, part of having always been taken care of, never had any true trauma in his life until now, never a reason to deceive. His parents had always been accepting of him. It suddenly struck him as to why he had yet to come out as gay to his parents, despite their eternal display of unconditional love. A love and protection he had felt start to be torn from him this past winter after his mother’s accident and then this summer lit aflame the remnants of what ramshackle life he’d still had.

The chilly frozen afternoon when his mom died was creeping in on him. He was suddenly brought to the present by the house cat nuzzling his leg and licking his foot.

“Mouse, go.” He said quietly. The cat meowed for attention, and he quickly spun to look for any movement in the bed. Alas, Wolfie did not stir. Morgan ignored the cat and shuffled out of the room. Mouse followed silently. Morgan eased down the stairs, hoping to not run in to Wolfie’s parents, perhaps up for the bathroom or a late-night snack.

He paused once he was down to the last step of the wooden farmhouse staircase. He knew the board was extremely creaky, recalling earlier that day when Ms. Baxter had been alerted to him coming down after sleeping in so late. Little did she know he hadn’t been sleeping, but rather dwelling on all he had lost.

The cat had been waiting at the top of the stairs while Morgan went down. It had felt like several minutes had gone by so far. He checked his watch, 2:58am.

The cat suddenly pranced down the stairs and sat beside Morgan on the rug. He looked down at him.

“Stay.” He said. Hoping that the cat wouldn’t try and follow him through the door, Morgan turned and grabbed the knob.

The cat immediately mewled. Morgan jerked from the sudden sound, pulling on the doorknob, causing it to rattle. He froze with his hand gripping the knob and his eyes staring through the darkness up the stairs. He listened hard for any sounds. Any sign that he had been foiled by this damn cat.

After a few moments, he sighed and looked down.

“Stupid cat.” He muttered. Instantly he regretted his words and he stooped down. “I’m sorry bud.” He stroked the cat’s head. Mouse arched his back as Morgan’s hand slid along him. He gave the rump a few scratches and moved back to the head. He repeated the motion a few times finding it eased his nerves and hoped it would placate the cat.

He hadn’t done any work at the vet clinic in town since his mom’s passing. With so much else on his mind, he hadn’t realized just how much he missed being able to tend to the animals.

He picked up the cat and cradled him in one arm as he gave one last glance up the stairs. Turning, he opened the door and slid out, closing it quickly but silently behind him. The click of the mechanism barely audible.

There he stood, on the porch, cat in his arms. Then it hit him.

“Shit.” He muttered. He needed the keys which would be by the back door. Going through the house wouldn’t be smart.

He stealthily made his way to the side of the porch and down the steps, along the house, around the corner, and tripped over a pile of chicken feed bags. As he went down to the ground the cat sprang from him, kicking off his chest. With a hard “oomph”, he hit the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

His embarrassment turned to worry as he realized no one would’ve seen him, and he hoped to keep it that way. He lay there for a moment, listening. Mouse sat next to his face in the dirt. Morgan couldn’t help but smile at the sweet tabby.

He stood and brushed himself off. He pulled down his shirt to check the area where Mouse had kicked off of him, there were a couple small scratches from his claws. He’d gotten way worse from bigger animals.

He finished his journey to the backdoor uneventfully. Opening the screen door, he found the main door wasn’t even closed. Perks to living out here, people rarely closed let alone locked their doors. He didn’t even need to fully go into the house. He put one foot in and glanced to the side where the key hooks were. He grabbed the truck key and slunk back out of the doorway.

Meanwhile, Mouse had already gone over to the beaten-up forest green, manual drive Ford pick up truck. The same truck Dr. Poulson drove when Mason would go with her to on site visits to tend to animals. She had sold the truck to the Baxters when her clinic had opened up and she needed a bigger vehicle.

Thankfully, she had also taught Morgan how to drive the stick shift. As he got into the front seat, he found himself remembering the first time he had to drive without her guidance.

He and Dr. Poulson had just finished getting a foal into the bed of the truck. Circumstances had led to the owner with a broken leg and a newborn colt needing medical attention after a fire in the barn. They had been there out of coincidence merely to tend to the newborn animals.

The fire had been taken care of and no one was fatally injured; at least not as long as Morgan and the doctor worked quickly.

“You’re going to have to drive. I need to sit with Riley in the bed to keep her stabilized. Just get us back to the clinic quickly, but safe. Molly is waiting for us with the supplies we’ll need.” Dr. Poulson was calmly but assertively instructing Morgan while she nestled beside the young horse, keeping a wound packed to staunch the blood flow. This was the first emergency situation Morgan had been in with the doctor. He regrettably froze. “Morgan!” she shouted at him for his attention. “You can do it. Please, for Riley. I know you know what to do.”

He shook his head in agreement and climbed into the driver’s seat and took them to the clinic in time to save Riley from losing her life.

Now, Morgan sat there in the same seat, in the dark, alone, save for Mouse the scaredy cat.

Would he make it to where he needed to, to save his own life? Where did he need to go?

The next part of his slowly unfolding plan came to him. He put the truck in neutral and got out. He pushed the vehicle down the driveway until he was far enough away that he figured the sound of the old truck starting up wouldn’t wake anyone.

He drove down the road and into town. He’d never been in town at this time of night and didn’t know what he thought he’d expected to see. The streetlamps gave a solemn glow and the traffic lights all flashed yellow.

Morgan pulled into the alley that led to the back parking lot giving access to several stores, including the clinic. Each rear entrance door had a single yellow bulb above, moths flitting about. He pulled into a space at the door with a light that stood out from the rest. The silence was jarring when he cut off the engine. The last sounds of the truck bouncing around the brick walls around him. The echoes seemed to be ghosts telling him to turn the truck back on and return to where he’d run from.

Morgan had once been given the task of replacing the lightbulb when it went out. He had retrieved a green bulb and put it in place of the previous burnt-out bulb. He meant it just to be a silly joke, but it was left like that.

That was two years ago. Now, he stood in the green light thrown from the bare bulb. It felt like he was being bombarded with the light, telling him to go back, don’t do this, it will be ok.

He’d left the windows rolled down with Mouse inside the truck. It was a cool night, and the cat would be fine out here until he had some time to figure out what to do next. He just needed to use the computer inside to get a more concrete plan.

Out of sight, a metal trash can clanged, probably by some racoon. Mouse bolted out of the truck and hid between Mason’s feet.

He crouched and gave the cat a sympathetic pat on the head. Standing back up, he punched a code into the electronic lock, opened the door, and went inside. Mouse running ahead of him before he even had a chance to turn on the lights.

He made his way to the office using the minimal amount of light. When he went to open the door, he realized through the dimness that it was already ajar.

He entered hesitantly and flipped the switch. His eyes surveyed the room and landed on Dr. Poulson slumped over her desk, head on her laptop. Morgan made his way to her, hoping he could retrieve the computer without waking her.

As he went to grab the computer, he realized she didn’t appear to be breathing. He watched her for a minute and then finally checked her pulse. She was dead.