I’m fixing to Play Dead (Part 9)

I’m fixing to Play Dead (Part 9).

In spite of my situation of being without resources other than the less than six hundred dollars in my pocket, a feeling of relief swept over me when my new friend Leon agreed to transport me from my helpless situation in Birmingham back to Atlanta so that I might gain possession of my stash of cash which I desperately required in order to pursue the disappearing act from my current position in life.

“We can go tonight if you want to,” Leon informed me, anxious to proceed with his task for which I had promised him $5,000 in compensation.

“I think late tomorrow afternoon would be better,” I told him. “I don’t want to get there until after dark. Besides, I need for you to go out and pick up some toiletries and a few items of clothing.”

“I can do that right now if you want me to. Wal-Mart’s open all night.”

After observing the level of liquid remaining in his bottle, I decided that was a bad idea. I didn’t need him to go out tonight and violate the conditions of his probation, or parole, or whatever he was restricted by.

“No need to rush, Leon. I’m feeling relaxed and we both probably need to rest well tonight, because we’re going to have a long day tomorrow.”

Leon smoked and we refreshed ourselves while he talked continuously for a while. He lived alone and had no family. All his friends had died, and even with the close proximity of all the other trailers around him, he had no contact with any of his neighbors except one, whom he said he didn’t want to talk about. His words had begun to slur and I noticed his head beginning to nod.

“Leon, you think it’s time to go to bed?” I suggested.

He said he reckoned it was as he stood up and steadied himself, holding on to the back of his chair. While he tottered away, just before he disappeared down the narrow hallway he said over his shoulder, “You can sack out on the sofa. There’s a quilt on the back of it.”

Even though I was exhilarated with my new found feeling of freedom, the events of the day, the refreshments we had partaken of and the exhaustion overwhelmed me. I found the light switch, turned it off, felt my way to the narrow sofa, crowded onto it and dragged the old musty quilt over myself.

Just before I succumbed to slumber I surmised that this old man was harmless and could be of great assistance to me. I remembered him saying he had a record. I fell asleep wondering what it was for.

That night my dreams were full of tornados, plane crashes and trailer parks. I awoke to the sound of Leon’s voice and the aroma of fresh baked biscuits. I crept off the tiny sofa very slowly because my body told me to do so.

I could feel aches and pains all over, especially my back, which was stiff and aching. I didn’t know whether the sofa, the plane crash or my fall in the ditch was the cause of it.

After I washed up and brushed my teeth with a finger I joined my host at the table where he was slurping his coffee and working on a giant biscuit. The biscuit was brown and crunchy, stuffed with a slab of country sausage, and was about the best thing I had put in my mouth in a while. “Where’d you get these biscuits, Leon?”

“Down at Aunt Minnie’s Kitchen, little restaurant down the road. I had to take some more of your money to pay for ‘em. You can deduct it out of that five-thousand you mentioned last night. Was that for real, or was it the liquor talking?”

“It’s for real, my friend,” I answered. “You got a pencil and a piece of paper? I need to make a list of clothes and some toiletries for you to get for me before we leave.”

“Why don’t you just go with me and then you won’t have to write it down,” Leon inquired. “We can go just as soon as we finish our coffee. Wal-Mart’s just a couple of miles down the road.”

“No, I need for you to go alone.”

“What’s wrong, you afraid of being seen, or something?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Okay by me, Ralph. For five big one’s I ain’t asking no questions,” Leon said as he searched in a drawer for a pencil.

After I had written a list of everything, while I was handing it to him, I noticed a folded newspaper on the counter next to the kitchen sink. “Is that today’s paper?” I asked as I pointed toward it.

“Yeah,” Leon answered, “that’s today’s copy of The Birmingham News. I thought you might want to read about that big plane crash yesterday.”

I had the paper in my hand before Leon was out of the door. The head line screamed—No Survivors!

That’s when I knew I was really fixing to be dead.