One Way Street

By R.L. Herron

In his debut novel "Reichold Street," author R.L. Herron created a powerful coming-of-age story set in the turbulent 1960s era that deals with the tough societal issues of family dysfunction, alcoholism, suicide, madness and the horrors of the war in Vietnam. Endorsed by Compulsion Reads, Top Book Reviewers and Kirkus Reviews, it was a 2012 Readers Favorite Gold Medal Winner.

In his new novel - "One Way Street" - the author has created a spellbinding sequel that follows several original characters once again in a tense, gritty 5-Star thriller through war, despondency, love and a murderous stalker.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.L. Herron
• Release date: Nov 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311041289

R.L. Herron

Born in central Tennessee, Ron came to Michigan as an infant and has lived there ever since. Most authors claim they dreamed of being published as a kid. Although he's been writing and submitting stories since he was 17, his earliest dream was to play baseball for the Detroit Tigers and be the next Al Kaline.Ron once worked for some of the world's largest advertising agencies. He also enjoyed a career in public relations and marketing with an international Fortune 10 company. A member of Michigan Writers, the National Writers Association, the Association of Independent Authors, Detroit Working Writers, Motown Writers, and the American Academy of Poets, he has written numerous works of fiction.His debut novel REICHOLD STREET was a Readers Favorite Gold Medal Winner. Kirkus Reviews called it: "Skillfully written and emotionally charged." His powerful 5-Star-rated sequel to that award-winner, ONE WAY STREET, was published in 2014. Reviewer Jack Magnus said "...it ranks right up there with some of the very best war-related literature I've read." STREET LIGHT, Herron's thrilling 5-Star third book in the series, was named one of the "100 Notable Books of 2015" by Shelf Unbound, the online indie review magazine.His latest novel, the horror/thriller BLOOD LAKE, was published in May 2016. TopBookReviewers gave it 5-Stars and called it: "...ominous thriller...outstanding read..."Although he admits to disliking the winters there, Ron still lives and writes in Michigan with his lovely wife, a finally-paid mortgage and one very large cat.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1 - PAUL

Things were vastly different after my family moved away from Reichold Street. Not in the sense the meaning of good and evil were suddenly reversed. It wasn’t as if all the blue sky was suddenly underfoot with the damp mud and rocks flung into the heavens, with wet, wriggling earthworms replacing the twinkling stars…but there were moments they could have been, because things were that different.

It didn’t take long to realize the reason for the tranquility of our new location had little to do with the new neighbors or new house. There was only one specific change that made things seem so peaceful: the absence of Albert Parker and his family. There were moments I would’ve sworn that difference was so profound you could taste it.

It sounds really harsh when I say it, but it’s true. After all, it was the arrival of the dysfunctional Carl Patton and his family, including his step-son, Albert, that had changed Reichold Street. I’ve had a lot of time since then to think about it.

Until their arrival, Reichold Street had been another typical residential neighborhood in a small, suburban city, with a lot of hard-working people doing their best to get along with each other. It wasn’t that different from any other working-class neighborhood until Albert and his family moved in. It was only after their arrival that every day became a circus.

Albert somehow knew, maybe by instinct, that Puz was the only kid on the block he had to beat to get most of us in line. Everyone who’d been there that first day had known real hostility between them was inevitable. The only question in anyone’s mind had been…when?

So it wasn’t much of a surprise the two of them squared off on the Saturday before Labor Day. The only unknown in anyone’s mind was how long it would take Puz to flatten the mouthy newcomer…with a few side bets on how messed-up the new kid was going to be.

One punch, Puz had gloated, that’s all I need. The sucker will be eating dandelions.

The day it all went down there were so many people on the block I thought someone had announced the date, like they do when the circus is in town. They walked up and down the street, occasionally stopping to point back at Albert’s house.

Laughter and ribald comments flourished like late summer flowers. If there’d been a few clowns it might actually have seemed like a circus, with everyone milling about waiting for the barker to announce the main event. It didn’t even surprise me to see a few parents waiting from the safety of their porches.

The only thing missing was someone selling soft drinks and popcorn from a trailer stand at the curb.

As it turned out, however, it wasn’t much of a spectacle, because it didn’t last very long. In fact, it was finished before most of those gathered realized it had started, and when the result finally registered, I’m sure everyone was too shocked to be disappointed. No one had ever seen Puz lose before.

They all watched open-mouthed, just as I did, as Puz threw the first haymaker and missed. He started to throw another one, swinging from far behind his back with a roundhouse that would have knocked the shingles off Mrs. Murphy’s old house if it had landed, but he never got the chance.

Albert grinned, stepped closer, and his hands started to move at the frenetic tempo of quarter-note triplets in an Al Hirt trumpet riff. His fists made swift, staccato statements all over Puz’ face and I’ve never seen anyone punch so hard before.

Blood started to flow prodigiously from Pozanksi’s nose and many split places along his lip. His left eye started to swell and it was over before anyone could start cheering for either one of them. Puz went down to his knees, his eyes glazed and he fell slowly forward to slap his face on the grass in Mrs. Anchor’s front yard.

Instead of standing triumphant over the upstart new kid, Puz lay there groaning and trying to crawl away, while Albert stood with his hands at his sides with a satisfied smirk on his face as he watched Puz stagger to his feet and stumble home.

Albert scanned the crowd. When he was certain everyone was watching he bent over and plucked a crushed dandelion from the spot Puz’s face had landed.

Stretching his fist skyward, with the crushed and bloody yellow weed it held, he seemed to be adding insult to Puz’s injury, preening, before he threw it to the ground, turned and walked away.

When everyone realized it was truly over and they’d indeed missed it, there was a hushed silence, as if the whole crowd had suddenly gasped for breath and every last one of them was now afraid to exhale. It didn’t take long for word to spread there was a new king in the neighborhood.

Until Albert arrived, everyone had looked to me to keep Puz civil to the rest of us. After Puz went down, everyone’s allegiance shifted…and they began looking to me to keep Albert in line. Funny thing is, the arrangement seemed to work.

It wasn’t that Albert and I didn’t have disagreements. There were lots of them, just as there had been with Puz. Some even rivaled the cacophony of noise the neighborhood occasionally heard from the railroad switching yard at the end of the street on a busy Monday. But they were just that… noise. They were never anything more.

I thought it was odd Albert never seemed inclined to challenge me the way he bullied everyone else on the block, but Puz had been like that with me, too. I was never sure why. I always suppose it was because I didn’t push either one of them about many things.

With Albert, there were very few interruptions to our unspoken peace, because he didn’t see me as a threat. I’m sure it may have seemed odd to some of the guys in school, particularly those few with a penchant for loud grandstanding to get their way, but there was nothing special about it.

The thing is, I didn’t see Albert as all that different from the rest of us, despite the arrogant and confrontational bad-ass face he chose to show to the world. He was just a lonely, kid in a miserable situation.

His stepfather suffered with his own demons, and he took them out on Albert, shouting at him and humiliating him, over and over. Every family on the block had seen it happen, and I couldn’t understand why it came as much of a surprise to anyone that Albert would rebel. I’m not sure he really had a choice. What did surprise me…at least at first…was the direction of his rebellion.

It wasn’t just against his stepfather, Carl. It was against everyone. The only sense I could make of it was he was almost as angry at the apparent indifference of all the witnesses as he was to the source of his pain.

I sometimes think if our situations had been reversed it would’ve been easy for me to be the one finding himself always in trouble. Albert did his utmost every day to make everyone’s life miserable, presumably to match how he felt about his own. It started the day he moved in and no one on Reichold Street would ever be the same.

I thought about it a lot, at least until the day we moved out of the neighborhood. Even long after we moved away from the nonsense, I felt sorry for all of them.

CHAPTER 2

I wish I could say I’d been surprised when Albert finally got himself cornered by life once too often. Moving off of Reichold Street had seemed to make the world a more serene place, but I wasn’t much of a believer in miracles.

Late in my senior year, one of my best friends in the old neighborhood, Randy Camron…one of the brothers I had dubbed as The Twins…called me to fill me in on details of things happening back on Reichold Street.

You hear about Parker? he said. Randy’s voice sounded distant and tinny on the phone, and I almost expected to hear his brother Donnie coming on the line with him, finishing his sentences for him. He has to join the military.

Yeah, I heard about that, I said, damn fool hot-wired a neighbor’s car.

You know? Randy said, Who told you?

My mother drove Mrs. P to the courthouse.

And you weren’t going to tell me that? Randy said.

I didn’t want to bad-mouth Albert with rumors, I said, I wasn’t going to bring anything up, unless you already knew about it.

Fair enough, Randy said, but answer me this: Why’d he do something that stupid?

Hell, I don’t know, I said, Have you heard what he’s going to do?

He told me, Randy said, he’s joining the Marines.

What?

The asshole joined the Marines, Randy said again. He sounded disgusted, like he’d just been told he had to swallow a can of worms. The damn fool has a death wish. He seemed to struggle for the right words to say next. His Mom and Janice are upset, of course, but Albert…well, Albert acts like…I dunno…like it’s the only thing he’s ever expected out of life. Seems real gung-ho about it.

It’s an act, I said.

Perhaps, Randy answered.

No… I said again, it’s an act.

"What’s the matter with him, Paul?

You know him as well as the rest of us, I said in a whisper, Think about what he’s got to deal with at home. I’m pretty sure you can figure it out.

Carl…? Randy said.

First thing I thought of, I said. Albert’s step-father would be a hard act for anyone to get used to.

Still, Randy said again, the Marines? Why not just refuse and go to jail?

People can still visit him in jail, I said. He’d have to endure his mother visiting and crying. Probably Janice, too. He’d have to hear both of them telling him all the snide comments people were making about all of them…and can you imagine Carl showing up?

Bummer, Randy said.

I think he’s trying to figure a way to get as far away as he can from all the shit going on in his house…and some of the people.

But a Jarhead? Randy was incredulous.

I thought it must seem like the best solution possible. Albert would beat jail time, get away from all the people in town who couldn’t stand him, plus put himself half a world away from the stepfather he hated.

Do you really think dodging bullets for a year is any less desirable to him than what he goes through now almost every single day? Randy was silent for a moment and all I could hear on the phone was static and the wheezy bellows of his breathing. When he spoke again, I was surprised at how much pleading I heard in his voice.

You gotta do something, Paulie, he said, Albert’s shipping out soon.

Why tell me? I can’t do anything.

You gotta talk to him, at least, Randy said.

Why me?

You’re the only one he ever listened to.

Oh, great. What the hell am I supposed to tell him?

I don’t know, Randy said. His voice was rising, on the verge of making him sound like a little girl. Tell him to high-tail it to Canada, he said, I don’t know…say anything. Just have him get the hell away from here while he’s got a chance.

That’s five years in Leavenworth, I said.

He doesn’t have to come back, Randy said. He sounded choked up, like he wanted to cry. But if he bails out now, he’ll at least be alive.

I didn’t think you liked him.

I don’t, Randy cleared his throat and I could easily visualize his characteristic shrug, but you did, Paul, so there must have been something decent about him.

I don’t think it’ll do any good, I said.

You’re the only chance the SOB’s got now.

I’m his only chance? I said.

I couldn’t believe he’d said that. Since when did Albert’s fate become my problem?

You know you’re the only one he ever had any respect for, Randy said. I’ve already tried to tell him he’s being an asshole, but do you really think he listens to me?

What makes you think he’ll listen any better to me?

Randy’s sigh was like a tornado of wind over the phone. You’re probably right, he said, but you can’t let him do this without trying to stop him. Even Albert deserves something better than that.

I’ll see what I can do, I said.

Thanks, Paulie, said Randy.

I hung up and wondered what the hell I’d just gotten myself into, but there was only one thing I could do and still live with myself. I knew Albert would never talk to me over the phone. So, I borrowed a friend’s car and drove for two hours to get back to Brickdale to see him.

CHAPTER 3

There wasn’t a single idea in my head about what I was going to say to Albert, not one. This is so fricking stupid, I told myself. Still, after all my time away, there was a moment of déjà vu when I turned onto Reichold Street again and pulled up in front of Albert’s house.

I parked at the curb right in front, but I couldn’t make myself get out. I looked across the street at the old house I used to live in, and stared at that old building as if the right words to say were spray-painted in graffiti on its side. The worn asbestos shingles only seemed to stare back at me, with nothing to offer.

Every phrase I’d practiced for the past two hours sounded so phony I decided to just wing it. I got out of the car and stood beside the driver’s door for a moment, then began a slow trek toward the house on the narrow ribbon of pitted, moss-stained cement that led to the front steps.

With each step I felt like I’d been sentenced to walk the plank. The raucous catcalls of a swarthy crew, tossing out bloody bait to summon sharks, wouldn’t have surprised me. I could almost hear them in my mind, and the short walk from the curb to the porch couldn’t have felt much worse, even if all those imaginings had been true.

I was still trying to think of something to say as I walked up the steps, rapped softly on the door and waited for someone to answer my timid knock.

Albert’s step-father, Carl, opened the door and poked part of his head outside…just enough to get a look at me.

He didn’t return my greeting or invite me inside, but when he did speak I was surprised to discover he recognized me. Albert, he bellowed in the general direction of their front room, that Barrett kid is here.

I said hello again with a bit of difficulty, after clearing my throat. Carl ignored me.

I could hear someone rummaging through drawers in the kitchen and I suspected Albert was in there…Mrs. P or Janice would have come to the door…and little Kevin might have poked his head out in curiosity, too.

Only Albert would have intentionally ignored me. Several minutes went by after Carl’s rude announcement, with no response of any kind, and it became obvious Albert wasn’t coming outside. He didn’t even poke his head around the corner, let alone come to the front door.

Carl still just stood there in the doorway, swaying slightly and keeping a tight grip on the door handle…looking at me with bloodshot eyes.

I shouted Albert’s name, and tried to look inside..

Carl kept his right hand on the doorknob as he put the first two fingers of his left hand against my collarbone and poked at me…hard.

Kid, he said, sneering at me, it looks like he ain’t all that interested in seeing you.

Albert, I shouted again, at least come out on the porch. I inched closer to Carl, and tried to ignore him as we stood, almost chest-to-chest.

You Barrett’s got a real snotty attitude, Carl said, spraying spittle on the side of my face when he said my name. He glared at me, but I didn’t flinch or turn away.

You’re a disgusting drunk, I said.

Still face-to-face, Carl blinked and, after a moment, took his fingers down. I could see a puzzled expression on his face as he turned his rapidly blinking eyes way from me. I shouted at Albert again over his shoulder.

Talk to me, Albert.

Leave it be, Paulie, Albert’s voice was still muffled by the walls inside.

What you’re doing is insane, I yelled.

I said leave it be, he shouted back.

Albert had always been a hothead who never seemed to think things through. We’d been at odds often over the years, but there’d been good things about our relationship, too.

It didn’t matter to me Carl was still standing there between us. He’d become irrelevant. I’d become desperate to talk to Albert, because as I stood there I realized we really were friends, despite the effort he took to make it difficult.

I put my hand on Carl’s arm, near his shoulder, and tried to push him out of the way so I could see inside.

Albert, I shouted his name again.

Go away, Albert said.

No, Albert… I said, talk to me!

I tried again to push my way into the house, only to have Carl brace his arm across the open doorway to block me. I looked into his eyes and they were flitting about even more than they’d been earlier. His gaze seemed lost, almost vacant, like the drunken stupor in which I’d usually seen him when I lived on Reichold Street, and his demeanor wasn’t pleasant at all.

Even his posture told me he was ready to dish out the worst he could manage. Albert might not be coming out…but I could tell Carl was definitely not about to let me in.

C’mon, Albert, I pleaded, ten minutes. That’s all I’m asking…just ten minutes.

Carl leaned forward with a smirk on his face. His breath smelled sourly of onions and booze. You Barrett’s don’t ever know when you’re wastin’ your time, do you?

I scowled at him and continued to shout over his shoulder. C’mon, Albert, I said, You know it’s me…Paulie. I came a long way just to talk to you. I wanted to let him know he really did have a friend or two, and I was one of them.

Go away, I heard Albert say. This time I could tell he was just inside the door, not far behind Carl.

I can’t let a friend throw his life away, I said, and you’re my friend, Albert. You always have been. You know that. Come out here…please.

Whether he believed me or not, I suppose I’ll never know. Just leave me alone, Paulie, he shouted once more, then, in a more subdued voice, what’s done is done.

I could hear him inside as he padded back toward their kitchen, but I didn’t get a chance to say any more.

The madness I’d seen in him so often entered Carl’s eyes again. He put his hand on my chest, smiled his obscene, leering smile at me and shoved me hard enough to knock me down. Go away, he said, leering down at me, Paul-ee.

He put a snotty emphasis on my name.

You bastard, I said.

I started to get up, but Carl slammed the door closed before I made it to my feet, and that effectively ended the conversation. I felt like grabbing a chair and smashing the door, but I knew there was no amount of shouting or banging that was going to open it.

I stood on the top step, with the door mere inches from my nose for a moment longer, then stepped down to the first step and looked back up at the scarred paint on the outside of the porch. I stood there for a long time, until the sounds of the switching yard at the end of the street registered again.

My family had moved across the state long before Albert got into this latest trouble but even then leaving Brickdale had seemed like leaving the mind-numbing chaos of war.

In my new neighborhood, the sudden return to something that approached normalcy, though calming and peaceful, also made the world somehow paler and less interesting.

I’d missed the friends I’d made in all the years we’d lived in Brickdale. Standing there, I also realized those friends included Albert. Even in his most obnoxious moments, he was still a friend. Everyone I’d ever known from Brickdale…and especially those on Reichold Street…was a part of me.

For a long time after we’d moved, I thought the hardest part of leaving Reichold Street behind would be not graduating with everyone I’d known since kindergarten.

But now, standing there at the curb, looking back at that familiar white clapboard house, I realized the hardest part of change wasn’t to be found in leaving all the familiar things of my life behind. The hardest part lay in discovering some of the awful things life actually had in store for some of us.

If I turned and walked away, I knew things would never be the same again, but that was still going to be true even if Albert had suddenly rushed outside to hug me.

So I finally left, without seeing Albert at all.

I stopped to see Randy before going home. I didn’t think you’d really come, he said, but he was nodding when he added, but I suppose I always knew you would.

We both went into his front room and I sat on the sofa, listening to ice cubes tinkle while Randy got us both a lemonade from the kitchen.

We didn’t really say anything substantial, but we talked for a long time. Even though I was unsuccessful with Albert, I left feeling glad I’d made the effort. Spending a few moments with Randy had been worth the trip.

I was right, though.

Life afterward was never the same.

CHAPTER 4

When I learned from my counselor I’d earned a full-ride scholarship to State, I was delighted, because it meant I could actually afford to go to college at all, something that had long been in doubt. My father was a good guy and