From the Publisher: “Growing up during the tumultuous ’60s, John and Dave are your typical 17-year-olds: They’re focused on girls, senior year angst, and money. To get a few bucks in their pockets, they set pins at a bowling alley outside Detroit. When the bowling alley’s owner suddenly dies, their paths diverge.
John learns that their late boss, Carmen, left funds in a trust for John to use for college. As Dave grows bitter about Carmen overlooking him in his will, Dave settles into a job of delivering drugs, in spite of his growing fear of being caught. But what can he do? Drug dealing is bringing in big money for Dave. The kind of money he was deprived of for most of his life. And then, in an instant, it all changes. Dave’s sense of foreboding begins to become reality—but a much darker reality than being arrested for drug dealing. He is forced to do the unthinkable, and with that, there is no turning back for anyone…”
About the Author: Local author John W. Fike was born in Uniontown, Pennsylvania. He grew up, as the old song says, on “the poor side of town” and understands that our circumstances and choices—along with the choices of others—can have far-reaching consequences. When he was 19 years old, John was drafted into the U.S. Army to serve in the Vietnam War. Twenty years after his tour of duty, he began to notice tremors in his arms. John was later diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease from exposure to the chemical Agent Orange in Vietnam. This diagnosis forced him to end a lengthy career as a respiratory therapist and years of clinical experience. Facing this professional loss, he found solace in writing.
John lives in Eighty-Four, Pennsylvania, with his wife, Mary. He is the proud father of two daughters, Jessica and Katie.
“Come on, Carmen, open the damn door already! This heat’s going to kill us.”
John paced back and forth in front of the entrance to Lake’s Bowling Lanes. He wiped the buildup of sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief. “It’s hotter than hell out here!”
Spring in Detroit was unusually warm this year. The sun was scorching hot as steam rose from the black asphalt pavement just outside the bowling lanes.
“Can’t he hear us?” John said impatiently. He and his friend peered through the dark glass door. “This glass door feels cool. We just need to get in there, John. I certainly don’t want to go to hell when I die—even this is too hot!”
“What time is it?” John said.
“It’s got to be about four o’clock.”
“Maybe he’s in his office working on billing, Dave.”
“I hope he is giving us a heat bonus.”
“Yeah, right. Dream on, Dave.”
“Maybe he’s hitting on Sandy, the new bartender,” Dave said jokingly.
“Come on, Dave, we’re talking about Carmen already. He and his wife are like this,” John said, crossing his index and middle finger. “Let’s go get something to drink until he gets down here. I’m dying of thirst.”
“All right. Where?”
“Bittner’s. It’s not that far, unless you can think of some place closer.”
“Sounds good. Let’s get out of here.”
The two friends moseyed down the street. Dave seemed anxious about something and scratched his head.
“I can tell you have something on your mind. What is it?” John said.
“I’m just curious. Are you ready for Monday’s history exam?” Dave said.
“Nah. Between setting pins and yesterday’s math exam, I’m just not ready.”
“Wow, I feel better, already,” Dave said sarcastically. If Mr. Perfect isn’t ready, well—”
“Mr. Perfect? Screw you, Dave.” John burst into laughter.
Without warning, a police car crawled down the street. The two officers in the vehicle gave the two boys a long, hard look. The cruiser pulled out of the oncoming traffic lane and off onto the side of the street.
The police car then slowly turned down the back alley next to the Lake’s entrance and came to a stop. The policemen cautiously got out of the car and began walking in the direction of the boys.
John and Dave, sensing that something was wrong, stopped in their tracks.
“Don’t you move!” The older officer shouted.
“Shit! What did we do wrong?” John said, uncertain of what was happening.
“In this part of town, do you need much of a reason?” Dave said.
“My mom is going to kill me when she finds out the police stopped us,” John said.
“Not if they can’t catch us,” Dave said, ready to run.
“Did you hear me? I told you not to move!” the officer yelled, sensing that the boys were about to disobey his order.
“I’m sorry, officer, but I have no choice. My mom’s punishment will be far worse than anything you have planned for me,” John said as he began to run like a bat out of hell.
Dave instinctively bolted after him.
“Where are you headed?” Dave yelled.
“The dirt path, just behind the bowling alley. Just stay with me,” John said as he continued running.
The boys paced side by side until they reached the narrow, flat ground pathway. Dave, realizing that he was falling behind, looked over his left shoulder to see the older policeman slowing down, finally coming to a stop. The officer bent forward, resting his hands on both knees; he was too short of breath to continue with the chase.
Dave, feeling some relief, suddenly noticed the younger officer passing his partner. He was closing quickly in on Dave. “Run faster, Dave,” John yelled, making a sharp right turn as he continued on the narrow path.
Dave saw what appeared to him to be a better option. He headed down a rocky slope, making a beeline for a shallow creek. If he could cross the narrow stream, the cop might give up the chase, he thought. As he navigated his way down the stony hillside, Dave quickly noticed that the path was slippery. Lost on him was an early morning shower, still not dried up, that was protected by the canopy of new growth in the low hanging tree branches. It made each step that he took unpredictable. As he looked back up the slope, he lost his footing, falling back on his buttocks. He slid down the pebbled path and into the stream.
“Damn it,” Dave muttered.
He tried to stand up but was knocked back into the stream by the officer who had experienced the same fate as he. Soaking wet, the officer grabbed Dave by the collar.
“Doggone it, kid,” the officer said, realizing that he had torn the butt of his pants. “These are my best pants.”
“I’m sorry, officer, but why did you chase us?” Dave said, scared and drenched.
“Why did we chase you? Why in the hell did you run?” the officer said, looking dumbfounded.
Hearing loud voices near the stream, John sensed that his friend had been apprehended. He quickly entered through the unlocked back door of the bowling alley. Two steps at a time, he ran up the two flights of worn wooden stairs, then straight for the bowling lanes. He was met by silence in the dimly lit surroundings.
“Damn it, where are you?” John shouted. “Carmen! Carmen!”
John’s voice echoed throughout the hallways as he frantically searched for his boss.
“Hell’s bells, what is going on?” Carmen yelled.
Carmen could hear pounding footsteps getting closer. Suddenly, his office door flew open.
There stood John, sweat dripping off his forehead, his T-shirt soaking wet.
Carmen sat down in his old black leather office chair and studied his young pin setter’s appearance.
“Jesus, you look like you’ve been chased by the devil.”
“If you would have opened the front door, we wouldn’t be in this mess!” John said, exasperated.
Carmen leaned back in his chair, dumbfounded by John’s anger being directed at him.
“Two policemen just started chasing us. We were minding our own business when—”
“Stop. Just stop, John. Catch your breath,” Carmen said, trying to calm the boy down.
John paused.
“Now, start over, and who are we?” Carmen said.
“I don’t know why,” John said in a slightly calmer voice, “but two policemen just started chasing Dave and me. They grabbed Dave.”
Carmen sat forward in his chair, studying John’s face. “You don’t know why? They just chased you for no good reason?”
“I swear to God; we didn’t do anything wrong this time,” John said.
“I believe you, John. Now let’s go find these police officers and Dave.”
Just then, footsteps could be heard coming up the stairway. The two police officers appeared, holding Dave by the collar. Carmen could not help but notice small puddles of water forming at the feet of Dave and the young police officer.
“Explain yourselves,” Carmen said.
“What?” the older officer said, a bit confused by Carmen’s reaction.
“Why were you chasing my employees?” Carmen shouted. The senior officer took a step forward.
“Two cars on Maple Street had their windows damaged by what appears to have been shots from a BB gun. The report also stated that two young men were seen running from the scene in this direction.”
Carmen studied the young boy’s nonverbals as the officer commented on the street crime.
“Did the report you’re referring to describe the two men’s appearance?”
“No, it did not,” the young officer said, a bit sheepish.
“Why, in God’s name, did they run if they were innocent?” the senior officer countered, irritated.
“Maybe you need to instill respect in the young, officer, not fear,” Carmen said, leaning back in his chair.
The officers were stunned but said nothing in response.
“When did this happen?” Carmen said.
“Right around noon, we were told,” the senior officer said.
“There’s no way it was these two young men. They were helping me with odd jobs here at that time. They simply would not have had the opportunity to do something so foolish.”
John and Dave resisted looking at each other. They knew that Carmen was offering them an excuse that was a bit dishonest.
Before the officers had a chance to respond, Carmen ushered them to the office door.
“Now, I would suggest that you get out there and find the real criminals. These young men need to get to work,” Carmen snapped.
Red-faced, the policemen headed down the steps and passed from sight through the front door.
“Well?” Carmen said, now staring at the two boys.
“Sir?” John said.
“Get to work!”
“Yes, sir!” the boys responded in unison.
This excerpt from Final Absolution by John W. Fike is published here courtesy of the author and should not be reproduced without permission.
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