Tales from the Edge of Reason

By Ken Staley

A collection of "Twilight Zone" short stories with that spine tingling edge!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ken Staley
• Release date: Feb 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781505498905

Book preview

Henry Hallas Had a Wife.

Only men fishing for fresh gossip came into The Cove Tackle and Bait Shop in Clear Lake in late August. When they spotted Henry Hallas in the middle of the lake, the wags paid little notice.  Instead, they got the board out and started another round of bets.  Henry always spent time on the lake in August and they always bet on the time he returned to the dock. 

When Henry still sat in his boat in the middle of the lake at sunset of the second night, a few of the old wags raised their eyebrows.  At dawn of the third day, the boys talked about taking action.

So he’s still there?  Deputy Sheriff Jack Boyles adjusted the focus of his binoculars.  Deputy Jack reeked of August sweat and his lunch of spaghetti with lots of garlic, a specialty of Spooners’ Restaurant just up the street.  Jack’s belt stretched to its last position, one notch further than factory made, a notch he made with a hammer and nail.  Deputy Jack took up a great deal of space at the window at the small side window that faced Clear Lake.

We’re kinda worried about Hank, Billy Wilson said.

Hicks are hicks, the deputy thought. In the swamp or in the backwoods.  A couple of these good ole boys dropped in while he was eating and hinted he might want to take a trip down to The Cove Tackle and Bait Shop and check things out.

Nothing official, one of them rushed to say.  I mean, just a sort of unofficial visit to the bait shop.  You know, see how things are.  Nothing you’d have to write up.

How long has he been out there?  Deputy Boyles asked

I got up at five this morning an’ checked to see if he was still there.  This is day three.  Three days is a long spell for Hank, Benny Sommers, owner of the bait shop, said as he peered through his binoculars at the small skiff in the center of Clear Lake. 

So that’s Hammerin’ Hank Hallas, the deputy smiled. Doesn’t seem like he’s all that.  He peered through the binoculars again for a brief glance at the lump of coat wearing a hat in the middle of the lake.  I mean, it’s a bit difficult to tell much about him from here.  You’d think it was October and cold as hell the way he’s dressed, not the middle of August. 

The regulars gathered closer, each willing to add to the lore of Hammering Hank.  Boyles waved them all to silence and nodded to Bennie.  Seems like you been here the longest.  Certainly been around this lake the longest.  What gives with Henry Harkness?

For twenty-seven years, sometime in the middle of August, Hammerin’ Hank rows out to the middle of the lake, Bennie said.  Rows, mind you.  I never seen him use any kind of motor.  I figure Hank thinks he needs the exercise.  He never pulls anything out of the lake either...a bit late in the season for fishing.  Just sits in the same place, sometimes for a couple of days.  Never talks to anybody before or after his trip.  If he eats he brings it with him, which is likely.  But hell, I ain’t never seen him even move so much as to even take a piss.

Odd, but okay, nodded the deputy.  he’s not doing anything illegal.  Hell, even if he was smoking the funny stuff I wouldn’t give a damn.  From there, he can’t hurt nothing.  Besides, by the time he rows his boat to shore he’ll be stone cold sober. Unless he stands up to take a leak and waves his whoziewhatsie at the shore, he can sit and fish till the rapture.  He sure ain’t bothering anyone out there.  He put his glasses down and turned to the small group of men at the counter.  How did he come by his name Hammerin’ Hank anyway?

You haven’t never heard? Billy Wilson asked.

Just station house whispers is all, Deputy Boyles said.  You know how that goes.  Town this size, you can hear the same tale several different ways depending on which side of the street you’re on.

Henry is a salesman and leaves town for a few days, maybe a week, Ernie Davis said.  Every time he comes back – Pow! - the old lady gets it, right in the mush.  Says he thinks she’s cheating on him.

He only does that when he gets crazy drunk at the Last Drop Tavern, said Billy Wilson, filling in more of the local gossip.  One day he was away for three days.  When he come back he told every jack one of us in the bar that he was on to our schemes with Emily and we’d better watch our step!

Nothin’ ever come of it that time, Bob Wallace hastened to say.  "He was humble as pie that Sunday – apologized to everyone he met, whether they

was in the bar or not."

Bet he didn’ apologize none to Emily, though, Bennie said.

You don’t see Emily for a few days after Hank gets back into town, Abner Denny added his piece.  I guess she don’t like anyone to see the bruises.

Dr. Berry, the dentist, had to fix her jaw and pull some broke teeth one year, Frank Toll said.  He called the sheriff who went and talked to Henry.  That put a stop to the thumping is what I hear.  Sheriff put the scare into him.  Of course, that was before the laws got tighter about that kinda stuff.

Takes a hell of a punch to break teeth, the deputy said.  Maybe the sheriff stopped the beatings.

Naw, Bennie said.  Just made it so he don’t hit her in the jaw is all.  She still gets her thumps.

What about emergency room visits? Deputy Boyles hitched his pants.  There’s laws now, like you said,

I always wondered why she just don’ take a powder.  Leave his sorry ass high and dry, Bennie said.  The crowd shrugged almost in unison.  Many of them wondered the same thing over the years.  When it didn’t happen – ever – that merely added one more piece to the puzzle and juice to the gossip.

I see him in town now and then, Billy Wilson said.  "You’d think he was the nicest thing in shoes.  Always has a pleasant hello – warm handshake – always holds the door open in the store for people – nice as pie.

Sharp dresser, too, Billy added.  Of course, we know he has to dress sharp for his job, but still, you never see him dress down except to fish.  Shoes always shined, tie always straight.  Wears this big damn ruby tack in the middle of his tie ... .

Big as your thumb, Bennie added.

Hard to miss that stone, Donny Adams said.

What about his misses?  Jack Boyles asked.  She go out on the town with him?

Not Emily, Donny Adams said after a quick, silent survey of the group.  He hurried on when no one else spoke.  Just a bird of a thing really.  Hardly enough bone and muscle on her to swat a fly.  Shy as a church mouse, too.  I swear she’d jump outta her Dr. Scholl’s if you was to so much as say ‘hi’ to her.

You can see Emily sometimes in Bob’s Chuck Wagon Grocery, Billy said.  She’ll come in and buy her little bits of stuff and hurry home, not a nod or a word.  She small because she don’ hardly buy enough to keep a bird alive.  I think Hank keeps her on a short leash.  You know how it is sometimes, generous as hell in the public eye, tight as a gnats ass at home.

Of course, he sure gets the cold shoulder from lots of the folk around here though, Bennie said.  People in Clear Lake, we know what happens.

Suppose he’s alive out there? Abner asked as he stretched on his toes a bit for a better view out of the dusty window.  Abner was new to the group, having retired in Clear Lake just 10 years ago.  27 years is a long time to be rowin out to the middle of that lake.  At his age that’s a lotta work.  He might’ve had a heart attack.

Deputy Boyles picked up his glass for one final look.  No change, either in attitude or posture of the fisherman or the boat.

I don’t see he’s harming anything out there, the deputy said as he put the field glasses down and picked up his hat, if you’re really that curious, you could go out and find out for yourself, he suggested when he strode past them and out the door.

They argued the rest of the day.

Three days, Bob Wallace led the few who wanted to go check group.  He ain’t never been out there this long.  Okay, one year it was a long two days.  But you all know his usual, come out about noon, maybe stay the night, head back just before sunset the next day.  Been that way for as long as I can remember.

Eventually, they agreed – most of them at least.  If Henry Hallas was not gone by sunrise the next day, a delegation of concerned citizens would go out – just to check – and maybe take him some food and beer.

You all bein’ far too nosy, Bud Jenkins said.  He was the leader of the it’s none of your damn business group.  Of course, he was the only member right then, too.

#

Early the next morning, Billy Wilson’s bass boat cut through the mirror-like surface of Clear Lake.  Clear Lake was true to its name.  August’s sun rose above the trees and sparkled the surface with liquid gold.  A soft breeze carried the incense of pines across the water.  In the distance, a few tourists began their morning, emerging from campers and tents to light kindling for a morning fire, their voices clear.  A few naive early risers, who understood little about fish or seasons, gathered at select points around the lake to try their luck.

Billy insisted on using just his trolling motor.

We don’t wanna make no noise, Billy said.  As an avid fisherman himself, he knew how angry he’d be if some noisy group scared the fish away.  We’ll just glide out.

Abner Denny sat in the stern of the boat with Donny Adams.  Billy’s electric trolling motor was mounted up front, next to his bass fishing seat, where Billy sat as unofficial captain of their venture.  They glided near Henry’s boat as the sun finally broke above the trees that surrounded the lake.

Mr. Hallas, are you okay?  Billy called as they neared.  He didn’t want to shock or surprise Henry.  The figure in the boat didn’t respond