Carl Ann

By Ron Gibson

The creature had been with her since inception buried deep, contained in her sub-conscious. Now thirteen years old, petite with long black hair, beautiful brown eyes her maturing body offering the slightest hint of the forth-coming stunning woman she could become awakened the horror within her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9780989998314

Book preview

reality.

1

Mid August, 1988

The sun beat down on the dusty country road better known to the locals as route 3. It connected two small towns, Ellensworth to the east, Porter’s Junction to the west.

For as far as the eye could see flat prairie and rolling hills contained the road on both sides.

The intense heat permeated every stalk of waist high, dry prairie grass. The scattered rocks, every particle of dust seemingly intensified the heats’ effect. It enveloped her like a thick wool blanket.

Carl Ann was running for her life. Headed west on route 3 towards Porter’s Junction, six miles from her present position, she was running full out not daring to stop.

Perspiration soaked her hair, ran in her eyes and down her face. They were close. How close? For all she knew they were right behind her! It seemed Carl Ann had been running from one thing or another for most of her life all thirteen years of it!

Running, running! Every pounding step tearing apart her endurance, each breath inhaling desiccated hot air. The pain in her side felt like a knife wedged between her ribs. Her legs were concrete blocks almost impossible to lift.

She became accustomed to the teasing regarding her name, ignoring the comments for the most part. No need to run from useless words. This was distinct—this was life or death!

It began late May. It was a puzzle with a good portion of the pieces still absent. A curse was what it was she thought. A curse put on me by my father! Carl Ann hated her father, Michael. He was a small minded individual, arrogant, conceited, with no feeling towards anyone except himself.

She knew Michael had forced her mother, Mary, to sign the birth certificate permanently distinguishing her as Carl Ann Johnson.

A daily remembrance he told Mary, for deigning me a son!

She winced. Unable to control the pain in her side or lift the concrete blocks another step she collapsed into the waist high grass beside the road. The ground was hard, unyielding. The dry grass poked, jabbing at her body as she fell.

Not knowing how close her pursuers were she realized she couldn’t lay where she’d fallen. Getting further into the prairie, completely out of sight, was essential to her survival. Drained of her strength sheer will power enabled Carl to crawl an additional fifty feet beyond the road.

Her home was a quarter mile from the front door to route 3. Hair slicked back in a pony tail, short sleeve light weight blouse, sweat pants and tennis shoes she had bolted out the front door not bothering to close it. Carl Ann ran as if the devil himself was after her.

How far had she run? Seemed like miles. Eight and a quarter miles from her house to Porter’s Junction it felt as though she’d completed those eight miles plus ten more.

Damn road she thought, no land marks to gage distance. Only these never ending rolling hills! No matter where you’re at it all looks the same.

2

Mid August, 1988

Laying on her back the warmth of the sun felt good relaxing in fact, allowing Carl the pleasure of a few minutes free of the anxiety surrounding the past two months.

Without mom home life would be impossible. She was the buffer between Carl and her father, Michael.

I’m sorry I’m not the son you wanted dad! I can’t help that! Yelling at me twenty-four seven won’t change things.

How badly she wanted to say, "Perhaps if you hadn’t stuck me with the damn name Carl you’d accept me as I am!"

She knew the comment would only result in a split lip or bloody nose, perhaps even a loose tooth! Not worth it. Previous outbursts, less dramatic, had the consequence of black and blue marks lasting a couple of weeks.

Mary, Carl’s mom, was a good referee between teenage daughter and father. Raised by a strict father Mary knew too well the outcome of exerting ones independence.

In her early teens Mary developed a method of manipulation which she utilized to lessen conflicts with her father now too, between Carl and Michael.

A brief smile came to Carl Ann’s face recalling the different ways her mother manipulated Michael. Pretty smart her mom, Michael never realized how or when Mary manipulated a situation to her own or Carl’s advantage.

Mary Louise Johnson 42, wife of Michael Johnson, age 44. A good looking woman at 42, probably gorgeous as a young woman, Carl wondered what she saw in Michael. Without a doubt she could have had just about any guy she wanted. If I ever get out of this mess alive she reflected, I’ll have to ask mom, Why Michael?

The thought gnawed at Carl. Alive! That’s a good one! How did this happen to me? Thirteen years old! I shouldn’t be going through this!

Rolling over in the tall grass she felt the pain in her side slowly subsiding. The legs however were starting to cramp. Resting on her knees Carl knew she had to stand, straighten out her legs before the cramping became too profound.

She was about to rise when the sound of an approaching car caught her attention. Down Carl went flat on her stomach the cramping legs all but forgotten. Oh, no, the damn car is slowing down! Go by, go on by. Don’t stop! Oh, Christ it is stopping! Don’t move! Lay flat! Please, God, don’t let me die here!

The car came to an abrupt stop as tires bit into the packed earth creating a dust cloud swirling around like a blanket of fog. A door opened, cursing exchanged between two individuals. A gruff voice shouted Just do it we haven’t got all day!

Digging her fingers into the hard packed ground, hopeful it would swallow her she waited for the inevitable sound of someone walking through the dry grass towards her. Surprisingly, it sounded like someone relieving them self! Suppressing the urge to look was nearly as challenging as trying to control both her laughter and tears.

Muted voices, a closing door, off sped the car. Her heart was racing, face covered with dirt, sweat and, oh yes, those cramping legs were back.

The near heart attack made one thing explicitly clear. As quickly as the car appeared she’d have no chance of concealing her self if she kept running on the country road. It would take longer but Carl decided the safest way to Porter’s Junction was through the tall grass and rolling hills.

Try to stay close enough to route 3 so she wouldn’t get lost. Far enough away if spotted she’d have a good head start on anyone deciding to pursue her.

The pace through the rolling hills was more like a brisk walk at times a slow jog. Carl kept the road in view catching glimpses of it zigzagging around and between the rolling hills. Porter’s Junction couldn’t be far off now.

Preoccupied with her plight plus the strenuous events of the day water and food had been completely ignored. Carl was parched and hungry. Jolted by the realization of hunger and thirst Carl decided to climb to the top of the hill in front of her rather than go around. It offered a better view for her location and the challenges beyond.

Reaching the crown she was elated by the sight. Off in the distance was Porter’s Junction. Not good at gauging distance she thought it was probably a half hour to forty five minutes away given her present rate of travel.

The first priority would be water and food. She had some money. Enough for a burger, fries and a small coke! Water was on the house.

Off to her left just barley visible at the bottom of the hill was a small farm house. Carl Ann Johnson would never reach Porter’s Junction.

3

Early July, 1988

Carl Ann was five months into her thirteenth year. Dark brown hair, matching eyes, five feet three. Quickly maturing into an attractive young woman her body already gave more than a hint of what was to develop.

When their hormones kicked in the boys in her class would regret the day they made fun of her name incessantly teasing her.

An average student she received decent grades putting forth little effort to excel beyond what was called for.

Carl Ann was looking forward to next fall. The outset of a high school sophomore meant a new start, new faces, new friends, certainly new challenges.

Considered polite and genuine she made friends easily. Friendships were limited to the girls in her class. Carl Ann had no use for the majority of the young boys.

Life at home was tedious. At times her father made it almost unbearable. Her mom on the other hand was full of love and affection and Carl Ann looked forward to their time together especially on the weekends.

They’d go hiking through the rolling hills looking for just the right spot. A setting giving a panoramic view of the country side where she would sit for hours listening to Mary reminisce about her childhood.

In the spring Mary liked to garden. Mother and daughter would select their favorite vegetables plant, weed and water. The best part was eating the onions, carrots or cucumbers raw, pulling them from the ground, cutting them off the vine, eat them fresh on the spot.

Mom was the expert on cooking, sewing and decorating their home. Carl Ann loved helping Mary and in so doing became proficient many of the daily chores.

With her free time Carl enjoyed listening to music or reading a book. Her music was limited. Michael "Had no money to spend on the crap they call music today!"

She was fortunate to have seven albums and a mono record player on which to listen to them, all thanks to mom.

Carl Ann’s friends were limited with Gail Osterlund at the top of the short list. Gail’s family environment was one Carl Ann could only dream of. Taking advantage of any opportunity to escape Michael’s wrath, Carl Ann was a frequent visitor to the Osterlund home. Gail’s mom and dad welcomed Carl as they would a second daughter. Gail’s two brothers, Jake and Jeff, were well mannered, good looking, both older than Carl.

It was hard for Carl to imagine. It seemed Gail and her brothers had every conceivable modern device available to man.

Gail’s room featured a 19 inch color television, VHS recorder/player, a stereo with more music albums than Carl could count! Not to mention Gail’s own phone line.

The family room boasted a 36 inch color T.V, a stereo system complimented with speakers appearing to be four feet tall.

Carl never inquired and no one volunteered what Mr. Osterlund did for a living. Carl knew he wasn’t sorting lumber at the local hardware store.

After four visits to Gail’s house and repeated requests from Gail to "go over to your house" it was time to reciprocate. Carl was dreading the outcome envisioning the scenario.

Can we listen to music, Carl Ann?

"You be we can! Here Gail, choose from anyone of my seven albums! They sound great on my mono record player!

Or, Gail would you like to watch our 19 inch black and white television? Our reception out here is great! We get five stations!

Those were mild concerns. Her worst fear was Michael! An absolute humiliation! Gail, this is my dad.

—What the hell’s she doing here? Hurry up and finish what you’re doing—you’ve got chores.

The only solution is to work with mom. Plan Gail’s visit to coincide with a day when Michael is in town or out drinking. Talk about redundant—if Michael’s in town he’s drinking!

God, how I hate him! The thought brought knots to her stomach!

Mary and Carl Ann set the next Saturday for Gail’s visit. "Michael has business in town. stated, Mary. A little slow on the uptake Carl Ann asked, What business could he possibly have?" Mom gave her the look.

"Oooh that business!—exercising his elbow up and down with a bottle of beer. laughed Carl. Good enough for me!" She phoned Gail, the date was set.

Carl and her mom planned the day. They’d give Gail something she normally wouldn’t experience, a day out hiking. Pack a lunch enjoy the outdoors.

The big day arrived! Mom and Carl stood outside the house giving Michael the good-bye prom wave as he headed for Porter’s Junction. Don’t hurry back, Michael, muttered Carl, In fact don’t come back at all!

Eight miles to Porter’s Junction, he mused, turning left off his drive way onto route 3. It was 10:45 in the morning. Michael Johnson was already beginning to sweat. God damn heat! he said out loud.

Their 1973 ford had air conditioning, Mr. Johnson could not recall the last time it was operational. Not much in the poor ford was.

Years of neglect were reflected in the appearance and mechanical behavior of both the car and the driver!

Michael Johnson dropped out of school in the seventh grade. Other than reading and writing all of the other subjects were a mystery to him. His skills earned him the right to acquire nothing but the most menial work. Years were spent hopping from one job to another.

There was a time fifteen years ago, employed as a janitor in a convalescent hospital when his employment lasted four years. He remembered this well. It was during this time he met and married Mary.

Those were good times! The convalescent hospital provided him a small room away from the main facility charging him almost nothing for rent. He purchased a used but nice looking 1973 ford. Other than the small car payment the remainder of his earnings was spent on clothes, drinking and partying.

His outward appearance lent no clue to his education or profession. To mask his limited intelligence he developed a flair for the bravado. Most would say Michael’s demeanor was egotistical and superior. It worked well fending off those that would ask the questions unveiling his true being.

During an impromptu visit to a local department store his gaze fell upon the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was working in the cosmetic department.

He was at first hesitant to approach her. How could he draw near to such an attractive woman without being obvious to his real intention? He had to be subtle. Cologne was the answer! He needed cologne.

She smiled as he came up to the counter. Hi, may I help you? Her name badge simply stated Mary.

Yes, I’m looking for cologne. What would you recommend, Mary?

He was in disbelief after his third trip to the department store and specifically the cosmetic department Mary agreed to a dinner date. Michael spent hours developing a cover story not only to impress Mary but to defer questions she may have regarding his personal life.

During dinner he laid out the foundation of his lie to Mary. He was the region manager for a firm that owned and operated convalescent hospitals. There were four hospitals in his area of responsibility. He visited each hospital spending a week at each one evaluating and grading the care given to the patients.

He’d review his evaluation with the staff before sending the report to the main office. If deficiencies were noted the hospital had three weeks or less to correct the concerns prior to Michael’s next visit.

Each hospital provided a small room adjacent to the main facility for Michael to reside in during his stay. Simply put, Mary, I live out of a suit case and have no permanent apartment or house; kind of nice really. I save a lot of money on rent or a mortgage!

Given his knowledge of convalescent hospitals Michael was able to spin stories of his successes which Mary accepted as fact.

Other than his basic necessities the majority of Michael’s earnings were spent impressing Mary; flowers, dinners, weekend outings, clothing, jewelry; anything to win her favor.

Mary never suspected that Michael was always two dollars away from financial disaster.

Michael and Mary’s relationship grew. Nearing the end of his second year of work at the convalescent hospital they decided to marry. He would be moving in with Mary so the scope of his lie grew.

From her apartment he would commute to the various hospitals. Yes, it would create some inconvenience but each hospital was within a comfortable driving distance. I checked with our corporate office Mary, they had no objections to me commuting.

In actuality Michael left the apartment each morning in his suit. Arriving at the hospital he would change into his janitorial uniform then back to his suit at the end of his shift.

Mary continued work at the department store. The money Michael had spent wooing Mary now went for necessities around the home.

Financially they made ends meet. The bills were paid on time and they had some extra cash for a movie or dinner.

Michael’s situation hadn’t changed. One could say he was mentally destitute of comprehending the inevitable outcome if one of them lost their job or a monetary crisis arose. The inevitable was about to happen.

Late into his third year at the hospital Mary became pregnant. Michael never disappointed. Not able to see beyond the end of his nose he was elated.

"Oh, I hope it’s a boy! You know Mary, we’ll eventually have to move to a larger apartment or buy a house! I’ve even got a name for the boy; Carl! My favorite uncle was named Carl. I think it’s a cool name. Carl Johnson, yep, it’ll do just fine!"

Approaching her seventh month of pregnancy Mary mentioned to Michael the doctor stated she was at the point in her pregnancy to take time off from work.

Yes, there would be a loss of income. Although they had never discussed his salary she knew Michael could easily compensate for the short fall. It hit Michael in the face as if a professional boxer throwing a right hand bomb landed it full force! The truth about his financial situation, his real status with the hospital, was about to be revealed! His façade crumpled like a bombed out building; along with it his ability to control his true emotions.

The sign read: Entering Porter’s Junction Pop: 2,253. Michael turned the ’73 ford onto Porter Avenue, the main street into town.

He had one objective. Find work. It was about as far as his planning had gone. What kind of work, where it might be found, his chances of obtaining a job interview on a Saturday never crossed his mind.

First he had to collect his thoughts. Cool off from the hot, eight mile drive to town. Kari’s Bar & Grill would do just fine. A nice cold beer would set things straight.

The Saturday shopping crowd was quickly packing Kari’s for lunch. Michael went straight to the bar. Set off from the main dining area the cool breeze from the air conditioner, the dim lighting, provided a relaxing atmosphere. His third beer was on its way.

It was a thirteen year resentment; a god damn thirteen year mistake. It just kept on gnawing at him. He couldn’t let it go. Well, it wouldn’t let him go. God damn kid screwed up everything! He said out loud.

Sorry man didn’t catch that. What can I get ya? the bartender responded.

Nothin, just thinking out loud. replied Michael.

Thirteen years ago the shit really hit the fan!

Oh, Michael the doctor says I have to quit my job!

Oh, Michael, you can make up the lost income!

Oh, Michael this and oh, Michael that.

"Well, Oh Michael this woman; you should have thought before you got pregnant! What the hell were you thinking? Here’s the latest news fresh off the god damn press; I’m nothing but a mop pusher. I clean up shit and puke, dump garbage and jump to every command thrown out by every desk jockey in the hospital! I’m a janitor! I make MINIMUM WAGE. I’ll spell it out for you. M-I-N-A-M-O-M W-A-G! GOT IT!

I can’t make up twenty five cents in lost income! You know the region manager position? It’s bullshit! The four hospitals are bullshit too! Everything I told you about myself was a lie! How do you like that? So, now we’re even. You’ve got the kid—I don’t have nothin’ but bullshit for a kid!"

He drew the bottle to his mouth swallowing the last of the now warm beer. Peering through glazed eyes snickering to himself, Michael recalled the astonished look on Mary’s face—disbelief, confusion, anger and tears.

Serves her right he thought. And, to top it off the kid isn’t even a boy! It’s a god damn girl!

What am I supposed to do with Carl? Just forget the name, throw it out the door? Hell no! She and the damn kid can carry the name on forever! A reminder of how they both screwed me over!

The big B and the little b tears were coming to Michael’s eyes trying to restrain an outburst of laughter. That’s what I should call them. Both bitches!

He vividly remembered the day Carl Ann came home from school crying. She’d been teased by all over her name. The teacher had suggested she go by her middle name Ann.

"Mommy, can I do it! Please!"

Michael’s visit to the teacher the next day closed the issue. If we wanted her called ANN," Ann would be the first name on her birth certificate but, it’s not. The first name on the certificate is CARL! We don’t need you interfering and messing with our kids name and putting suggestions in her mind!"

Michael glanced at his watch. It was a bit hazy but appeared to be about 4:30 in the afternoon. That takes care of looking for work today.

I’ll have another beer, bartender.

It’s all bullshit anyway.

4

Mid August, 1988

Peering out at Porter’s Junction in the distance Carl Ann took a deep breath and murmured, Standing here isn’t getting it done. Best be on my way.

She fixed her eyes once more on Porter’s Junction for a general bearing, then down the hill to map out the best route to the bottom.

A road—there’s a road at the bottom of this hill! She tracked the road as it headed south around the hill then disappeared. She knew from the general direction the road would eventually intersect with the dusty country road, route 3. Looking back to her left she followed the road to a small, barely visible farm house nestled against the hill. Her adrenaline was pumping. Water! Is it worth the chance? This place looks pretty deserted. The probability of them looking for me here is remote she thought. Thirst won out and Carl Ann began her trek down the hill towards the farm house.

Time to be cautious, she deliberately veered to her right going down the hill so she wouldn’t be seen from the farm house upon reaching the base of the knoll.

Carl Ann jumped down the last few feet landing on the one lane dirt road. She stood motionless looking right and left, listening for any sign of human activity. Nothing other than a soft breeze rustling through the tall grass met her ear.

Progress was measured in small steps. Slowly inching her way around the hill her senses were heightened to any indication of trouble. She advanced until a corner of the farm’s fence came into view. A few more steps and there beyond the fence was the house!

Eerily quiet no sign of activity. No cars, no trucks, no animals. There must be a dog. Everyone around here has a dog!

She crouched for the longest time looking and listening convinced someone or something was watching her. The place may be deserted or who ever lived here is away, she thought.

Carl approached the front door hesitating, listening for voices before she knocked. Her stomach was in her throat. If someone was inside she didn’t know if she would be able to speak.

Closing her small hand into a fist she tapped her knuckles against the rough exterior of the door. One knock, then another, Hello, is anyone at home? Hello! spoken so softly even Carl Ann was unsure if anyone could have heard her.

The sound of a chair sliding along the floor startled Carl Ann. For a moment she thought her legs would give out as she unintentionally took a step backwards. The door swung open!

Oh my goodness; you lost honey? Ya look like you’ve been roughin it for a month or more! Well, don’t just stand there come on in!

Ahh, no thanks, if I can just trouble you for a glass of water I’d appreciate it and I’ll be on my way.

Nonsense girl get your self in here!

No thanks, just some water, please.

The woman in the doorway appeared much older than Carl Ann’s mother. She had a genuine look of concern on her face. A face reflecting years of hard work with little reward; a face that outwardly gave no indication of violence or harm. The face of a kindly grandmother.

Okay, then water it is! Just stand firm honey I’ll be right back.

The door was left ajar and the interior from what Carl Ann could see looked as if the house was well kept.

No visible shackles, no blood spatter on the walls, no dead bodies! Grandma reappeared with the water. A huge glass filled to the top with an abundance of ice cubes. Carl Ann drank most of it in one gulp resulting in the inevitable head rush. She was beyond parched.

"How about a refill