Desert Son

Check out Desert Son by Glenn Maynard


Desert Son

CHAPTER ONE

Warm weather streaked through Boston for a cameo on this late

March afternoon. Mid-70’s usually did not emerge from

hibernation until April, but none of that mattered much for Carter

Spence. No temperature could affect him now. Temperature

usually made all the difference in the world to Carter, but now

springtime’s rebirth seamlessly transpired.

Carter’s mood elevated, but temperature played no role. For a

split-second, he thought perhaps his mood had a calming effect on

his body, but only because his 175 pounds felt fluffy, like he’d been

influenced by helium. Just to contradict this sensation, he

remained still. He felt silly even testing. This feeling had only

captivated him while running around the bases at the baseball

fields near his home, or even when he was a tad tipsy at the bar,

but this still overpowered those other times.

Carter questioned reality. As a recent college graduate, he’d

dabbled in binge drinking, even though not nearly as frequent as

his “crowd” did. In fact, every so often, Carter would be the one

strong enough to volunteer himself as designated driver. Carter

was able to glance beyond the average college student in an

attempt to supersede peer pressure, and assume responsibility for

his actions. He always was the responsible type.

As Carter found himself suspended in a position enabling him

to oversee earth, he knew this transcended a typical mood swing.

He unquestioningly went along with whatever life threw at him,

even in this extreme case, surprising even himself.

Surveying the earth below, feeling not an ounce of care in the

world, Carter continued wafting like a loose sheet of paper in the

wind, drifting inch by inch, contentedly, as he began keying in on

an object. He seemed more preoccupied with this new attraction

than with his sudden participation with the solar system. It would

have been cataclysmic had both his feet mixed with the earth’s

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Glenn Maynard

dirt, but that wasn’t the case.

As much a presence that this altered state should have been,

Carter began battling a continual attraction to the object. This

diversion was enough to cloud the reality and incomprehensibility

of the situation. He finally stopped moving, involuntarily; no

further elevation. He awaited the presence of normalcy, but this

delay only lengthened his journey.

He sensed that he had no encasing. He felt that he was just a

feeling, or that his existence was just a thought. He couldn’t see his

body, but never really cared to check, either. He just had a gut

feeling that his thoughts were in a mind of their own. He felt like a

breadless sandwich. However, he did not care one way or another.

Carter astonished himself when his focus zoomed in like

human binoculars. This felt so empowering, so controlling, so

consuming, and he felt that the sky was the limit. For a 26-year-old

guy who had felt so powerless in the city of Boston, this certainly

boosted his confidence, but he only wished he could have this

focus and earth simultaneously.

He began reflecting on the bullying that he’d received as a

child on his school playgrounds. He wished he could find those

punks now, even though he since had learned to defend himself

fairly well. Nobody much messed with Carter once he hit the 10th

grade and began pumping weights vigorously. Nobody was going

to offend him, and in the city it was sink or swim. He had taken it

upon himself to get in a position where he could defend himself.

He looked at it as survival of the fittest.

He did not get revenge by beating the hell out of those bullies

who had previously roughed him up. No, that was not Carter’s

style. Rather, his presence became his revenge. And with this new

image came a certain macho sex appeal that ushered in his debut

in dating. He discovered that the two scenarios were intertwined,

and that did not pose a problem for Carter Spence.

Carter did love women, but he could not be in love with them.

He believed that he had just never found the right girl, but deep

down wondered if he even had the ability to love. This disturbed

him greatly, making him, for the most part, uncomfortable around

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Desert Son

women. He had convinced himself that he was just very picky

when it came to women.

During his peak conditioning, the one-time bullies would look

up at Carter in the high school hallways, acknowledge his presence

with a nod, and then humbly mumble, “What’s up, Carter?”

Although Carter considered this sufficient sweet revenge, the

thought of toying with these bullies from above did tickle his

imagination.

Carter eventually determined that the object on the ground

resembled a body, but it wasn’t moving. Then his focus zoomed in

some more, and quickly the body took on an eerie familiarity to

him. The scene below grew chaotic. Cars jerked to the highway

side. Doors swung open, remaining that way while people flocked

to this object, which was a body lying face down in an

embankment. Carter watched this scene unfold before him as if he

was watching a movie on television.

The first man to arrive shouted in panic to an unresponsive

body. He carefully turned the body on its back, eased down by the

second and third man to arrive. Carter continued to zoom in on

the victim because he felt as if he knew this man. He recognized

the strong face attached to the muscular frame. He recognized the

worn denim jeans with the oddly-shaped tear just above the knee,

and even the tan polo shirt, which by now had absorbed blood. The

shoes that had detached from the man’s feet were familiar, as were

the blue Gold Toe socks on his feet. His eyes moved back up the

body to the face, and saw that it was his body.

Carter felt indifferent while observing his poor, lifeless body. I

look so pale, he thought, aside from the streaking blood on his

face. Carter couldn’t believe it was really him. He would have been

hard pressed to select that body out of a lineup if asked to identify

him. However, he barely was able to recognize his own facial

features below. Just how observant and aware of his own self was

he, Carter pondered. It seemed interesting to Carter, more than

anything else, to see himself from another vantage point, yet treat

the situation so matter-of-factly.

Between the lanky frame and the short, light brown hair, he

9

Glenn Maynard

thought that it had to be him. But why, he wondered, confident

that there would be no dream to awake from, or no Allen Funt to

emerge out of nowhere to tell him about a camera. Besides, if this

was a dream, he wouldn’t be wondering if it was a dream. He didn’t

think he’d be wondering if it was a dream, but what he wouldn’t

give to test this theory of his.

Carter zoomed to within about a telephone pole’s length away,

even though he felt like a satellite in space. He noticed the traffic

really starting to jam. Cars could no longer pass by. One woman

screamed hysterically after discovering an upended automobile

streaming fuel onto the ground. She placed both hands on her

head and let out a series of chilling wails. Carter watched

emotionlessly.

Some good Samaritans flocked to the car to help, while others

ran from the danger. Most drivers rubbernecked their way past.

Carter shifted his attention to directly above the car, where a solid

oak shook off contact. A penetrating scar splintered the tree,

which was evidence of a speedy impact. Carter faced all four

wheels, witnessing the last tire as it finally slowed to a stop. This

all happened so suddenly that this new scene before him appeared

almost before the previous scene had ended. A dirty, scraped arm

flopped outside of the car, limply touching the ground, and a thin

tornado of smoke rose through Carter.

Carter could see that tire marks had blackened the highway,

and then dirt marks continued off the side of the road to where the

car rested. He did remember getting into his parents car, but he

could barely make a positive identification of that car. It had rolled

and wrapped itself around the tree at the roof. The smell of

gasoline enveloped the air and the potential danger was

incalculable. However, good people still stopped.

Gas dripped at a steady rate from the gas tank vicinity. Streams

of smoke billowed from under the hood. Carter hoped the smoke

and the drips didn’t merge, but when there’s smoke, there’s fire,

and within minutes the car flickered flames. Carter felt helpless to

try to save those inside. He wondered if it even mattered as he saw

that the car’s front bumper meshed with the dashboard and the

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Desert Son

roof the car rested on met up with the bottom of the windows,

which were smashed all around.

He knew those inside hadn’t a chance, and then Carter

positively identified the car as his parent’s car, so it was his

parents who were trapped inside. My God, Carter thought. This

isn’t happening. They could die. This thought flashed through him,

but he was emotionless.

Emergency vehicles nudged a path to the wreckage, and a few

heartless people took advantage of this path to better their

positioning. This was the city life, and nothing was going to spoil

the day of some people. Cars edged closer to neighboring cars on

the left, while cars in the far right lane eased off the road, some

entirely. Sirens blared, while red and blue lights flashed through

the light of day. Carter took notice of numerous police cars,

ambulances and fire trucks.

Carter knew his parents had expired, but what about his body?

Where was he now? Was he dead? Paramedics swarmed his

physical body below, and he wondered if he would ever be

reunited with it. He wanted badly to be able to help himself, but he

could only watch, unsure if it was his unwillingness or inability to

intervene. He felt like an actor watching his own movie, but he

certainly possessed more peacefulness above than what was being

transmitted at the chaotic scene below.

Firefighters in yellow coats squelched the flames with foam,

but the people who had jumped from their cars to throw mud at

the flames controlled the spreading. These people will be the ones

dubbed heroes, but will refuse the tag on the local newscast. Carter

could envision this before it even happened. He wasn’t being

disrespectful to those trying to help his parents, but he felt his

folks stood no chance by the looks of things. Maybe the car

wouldn’t burn to a crisp, but if they did survive the impact, any

fire would be enough to finish the job.

Carter believed his ejection from the car came prior to impact

because of his distance from the vehicle, and then it occurred to

him how he had gotten into the situation he found himself in. His

thoughts moved away from the chaos momentarily, zooming out

of that scene and into another.

Buy The Book

http://www.glennmaynard.weebly.com/

http://www.amazon.com/Desert-Son-Glenn-Maynard/dp/1612963129

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20505634-desert-son

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/desert-son-glenn-maynard/1118627014?ean=9781612963129

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