Massiah's Trip

By Robert A. Gorman II

Massiah's Trip is centered around a group of friends reunited after high school many years later. After driving through a horrendous thunderstorm for hours, Billy has injured the palms of his hands from the white-knuckle driving he was doing. Because of the violent lightning flickering across the sky, a focused Billy has not realized that his fingernails were digging into at the palms of his hands, causing them to bleed. Hours later, he finally makes it home to Clearwater Beach. Billy and Chaz meet up with Dick at his house for a welcome home party. However, after the party on the way home, Billy and Chaz are mixed up in a fatal accident. Billy also meet the girl of his dreams. A beautiful girl named Jade, who is quite mysterious herself. Following that tragic event, more mysterious murders and tragic deaths seem to happen around Billy and his car. Billy feels he is going out of his mind because he has a conversation with a ghost, or does he? Massiah's Trip also includes skydiving and a famous bridge with a dark past that could hold the key to Billy's salvation. When Billy finds out the haunting secret of his '76 AMC Gremlin, he races around the clock to come up with a plan to stop all of the carnage and madness that Massiah is wielding. So with one last epic party, Billy, Chaz, and Dick get ready for the ride of their lives. They have one chance to beat the evil force because if they fail, they're dead! Massiah's Trip takes place in Pinellas County and highlights places in Largo and Clearwater Beach. Also, it includes the Sunshine Skyway Bridge, with its tragic story that claimed the lives of many unsuspecting people that foggy morning. So get ready to enjoy a clever little story of killer comedy, suspense, and romance as Massiah's Trip takes you on a ride through a highway of hell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781641385176

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Massiah's Trip

Robert A. Gorman II

Copyright © 2018 Robert A. Gorman II

All rights reserved

First Edition

Page Publishing, Inc

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc 2018

ISBN 978-1-64138-516-9 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64138-517-6 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

HOMECOMING

SKYDIVING

CD PLAYER

FOR SALE

MASSIAH

ALLEN'S CREEK

MASSIAH COMES HOME

OLD TIMES

THE PARTY

THE JUMP

NICE SAVE

THE GRAVE

In memory of Robert A. Gorman and Geraldine Gi-Gi Hain.

Be with God, and we love you.

CHAPTER 1

HOMECOMING

The time struck 2:00 a.m. on the CD player in Billy’s ’76 Gremlin. He was traveling back from South Carolina after visiting a couple of old school chums, Chaz and Walleye. Billy Trigger was struggling to stay awake. He was driving through a thunderstorm that usually plagued the East Coast in the fall due to the hurricane season.

Lightning blistered the sky with veins of energy. The lightning was distorting Billy’s night vision with the sudden flickers of blinding halogen light. The rain was so thick that he could only see five feet in front of him. When the lightning flashed, Billy tightened his grip on the steering wheel. His knuckles were ivory white. The lightning was so close, it looked like you could reach out and touch it.

If I wasn’t in such a hurry to get home, I would pull of and sleep. Billy said to himself as he put in a Pantera CD. Billy felt something warm dripping on his leg. He looked down to his left leg. Blood was dripping off the bottom of the steering wheel. Billy looked at his left palm.

Blood was dribbling out of four aligned slices in his hand that his fingernails had made.

Hours went by, and the thunderstorm had started to let up by the time Billy had reached Savannah, Georgia. He continued to travel south on I-95. Billy’s hands started to cramp up. They were curled around the steering wheel for a few hours. He didn’t move them once from the ten-and-two position. His neck was getting sore too because Billy was hunched over the wheel, just staring at the nothingness. An occasional headlight in the rearview mirror. And red taillights in the side mirror. Trees flanked both side of the interstate.

Finally, Billy was two miles from the Georgia-Florida state line.

Billy looked at his watch.

Damn, it’s 5:30 a.m., only about three and a half hours left, and I’ll be on the beach.

Billy was a perfectionist. Everything had to be done his way. On the same hand, Billy’s laid-back surfer demeanor mellowed him out. He had dirty-blond hair, usually parted on the side. On a whim, he buzzed it off from time to time.

Billy was yawning due to his extreme exhaustion. Slowly, his eyes were closing. Billy started to fall asleep while driving.

Clup, clup, clup, clup. Billy jerked his head up. Oh shit! Billy yelled as he hit the median bumps on SR 301.

Wow! Ocala already, I’m making good time! Only two hours left, and I’ll be grooving with some babe at Clearwater Beach. And she’ll be begging me to watch the sunset with her! Billy said with confidence as he adjusted the rearview mirror.

Using the old remedies of the road, Billy drank a cola while popping four caffeine pills into his mouth. He turned on the air-conditioning on the desert setting and ejected the Pantera CD.

Billy thumbed through his CD’s and picked out AC/DC’s The Razors Edge. He popped it in. Thunderstruck started playing.

This would have been perfect three hours ago! Billy said.

Jamming out to AC/DC, as cars were being passed, the passengers would look over and see Billy thrashing his head back and forth. Billy would look over occasionally and flash a hang loose sign or a metal head sign. But never a gang sign because you never knew who had a gun on the highway.

Because in Florida, two things were certain. One, every body of water had an alligator lurking in it. And two, everyone had a gun.

Billy stopped head-banging to read a road sign. It said, "Tampa 10 miles. Clearwater Beach 30 miles."

Killer! I’m almost home. I need some gas. I’ll take the next exit. He pulled off exit 69 to get gas. He drove to Texaco into the full-service island. Billy exited the Gremlin. He was an average looking guy. Billy had a medium build at five feet ten inches. Billy was wearing a white coquina-shell choker that he never took off. His loyalty was strong, but he was carefree and lived for a good time.

Billy pumped in ten dollars’ worth of gas. He went inside to pay. Billy opened the door, and an instant aroma filled his nose. Billy’s eyes raced around the store to locate that wonderful smell. He fixed his eyes on a hot-dog machine. Billy was watching the hot dogs carousel around in their little metal cages.

What a divine morning, the clerk said with a grin.

What a hell of a night! I’ve been driving all night. I’m headed back to Clearwater Beach. I have made more damn gas stops. I must have spent a hundred dollars in gas already, Billy said.

You don’t say, the clerk said.

On the clerk’s shirt was a name tag. His name was Charlie Ijtampa. He was a skinny guy and about six feet tall and 150 pounds. He had black curly hair, like Mr. Kotter on Welcome Back, Kotter. Charlie had the pork-chop sideburns as well. He was also smoking a cigarette. Charlie smoked Dunhill cigarettes in the red box.

I’ll be getting a sales job in Clearwater, or a reality TV star. I’m waiting for the call, you know! He grinned in a sly way.

I’m a salesman by trade. This place is just temporary! Charlie said as he took a drag of his cigarette.

Billy paid the clerk.

Anyway, I’ll catch you later, Billy said as he walked out of the store. Charlie watched Billy get into the yellow Gremlin and drive off.

You, little bastard, don’t get smart with me! You’ll be sorry! Charlie said with a crazed look.

"Clearwater Beach 10 miles," the road sign read. It was 9:00 a.m.

Billy was almost home.

Thank god, I’m almost home. Twelve hours of driving is not fun. Especially by yourself, Billy said while looking in the rearview mirror.

Billy pulled into Gulf Boulevard. He lived in a two-room house that he rented. His backyard was the beach and the Gulf of Mexico. The house was small and was painted light gray. His driveway was made out of sand and seashells that crunched loudly whenever somebody drove up, or even walked on it to get to the beach.

Billy unlocked his door and went inside. He dropped his bags on the floor and plopped down on the couch. There was a musty stench in the air. The stale smell of cigarettes and beer filled the living room.

I have to remember to keep the AC running when I go away, Billy gasped.

The phone rang about ten minutes later. Billy answered the phone.

I just got in, call me in a few hours, Billy said while yawning.

It was his buddy, Chaz Rally.

I enjoyed seeing you, and I miss Florida. I’ll be at Tampa International Airport (TIA) in a week. I need you to pick me up. I’m moving back to the beach, Chaz said.

What in the hell are you talking about? I just left your place in South Carolina about twelve hours ago. You could have told me like . . . YESTERDAY! Billy screamed. Take a cab. I’m sleeping!

Chaz asked how the car ran.

Oh, great! I had to fill up with gas eight times, and I’m almost on empty now. She sucks the gas down.

Well, I’ll see you when I see you! Chaz said, and he hung up the phone.

Billy hung up the phone.

Outside the front window, Billy heard a squeaky old bike pedaling by. Then he heard bickering. It was an old beach bum named Rusty. He didn’t have all his marbles upstairs. He was the eternal hippie. Rusty looked a lot like Einstein, but Rusty was a little ornery. Billy looked up to see what the commotion was. Rusty was yelling at a jet that flew over his head.

Don’t poison me with your Agent Orange! And don’t crash into my BIKE! You bastards, Rusty said frantically.

Then Rusty was off to find the next party. He had been known to ride his bike out to Dick’s house.

Billy rolled his eyes and flopped down on the couch. He closed his eyes and fell asleep on the couch.

A week went by. Noontime rolled around, and Billy was crashed out on the couch. Billy heard a crunching sound as a car pulled into his driveway. He was recovering from a Dick Cabasa fiesta extravaganza.

Billy snapped to attention and looked out the window. He saw Chaz outside paying a cabby.

That’s $25.50, man. the cabby said.

Chaz reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. He peeled off a crisp fifty-dollar bill and gave it to the cabby. Another fifty replaced the neatly stacked wad of bills.

Keep it! And if you want to make more money, you come talk to me! Chaz said with confidence.

Thanks, man, I might take you up on that, the cabby said, as he was admiring Chaz’s cash flow.

The cabby put his cab in reverse and pulled out of the driveway. The cab reinforced the crunching sound that Billy knew all so well. Chaz knocked on the door and walked in. In the living room, Billy got up off the couch and embraced his best friend.

Man, I have this acidy, sour taste in my mouth, from the caffeine pills and cola, Billy said, while still groggy.

It’s good to see you too, Chaz said.

Chaz had on a Polo shirt and some sport shorts on. He was a big guy, about six feet and 230 pounds. He worked out regularly. Chaz had a fresh flattop haircut and a natural golden tan because of his Italian blood. He was moody at times and very sarcastic.

Chaz, I have nothing to drink! Can you go to the store and get me something? Like a soda or a sports drink? All I have is some rotten milk, Billy said.

Billy handed Chaz five bucks and the keys to the Gremlin. Thanks, I’ll be right back! Chaz said sarcastically.

Chaz got in the car and started it up. Ra, ra, ra,