Bastard Son of Nelson Creed part 8 (finale)

The people of Widow Springs woke up, ate breakfast, sent their children off to school and went about their daily chores. Around lunchtime, they headed to the Town Tavern as if running an errand. They never spoke a word to each other. All were in silent agreement and most of them never uttered a word of it until the day they died.

Nelson had been found not-guilty that morning and Mary wished he would be appreciative of it. Instead, he sat at Town Tavern, cigarette in one hand and a beer in another and was plotting his retaliation against those he felt wronged him, which, in his mind, was everyone. “This town ain’t seen the last a’ me,” he growled to her as he lit his cigarette, “Not by a damn sight.”

Creed cracked the door to the backroom, knowing that the pair wouldn’t be turning in his direction. It was a surreal experience seeing his father in the flesh as he had only seen photos previously. It was just as odd catching a glimpse of his mother sitting on the other side of him. She would’ve been even younger than Alysa at this point, no more than 17 years old. No girl that young should have to experience the things she did. He felt his stomach churning, knowing what he had to do next and how it would affect her. He told himself that, above all else, she was better without Nelson in her life. When Nelson leaned back to take a swig of his beer, he could clearly see her baby bump and fully realized he was now in two places at once. He knew she was pregnant with him on this day but the reality was still jarring.

Dale McGregor came through the door and stood in the center of the room where he stared at Nelson. Mary seemed to notice but if Nelson had, he was pretending not to. Katey soon came in and stood next to her husband. Beau and his wife came next. Then, Charlie and Miriam. More came and Frank the bartender walked into the backroom while they were distracted. He said nothing as he unlocked the rear exit and let Creed out. From there, Creed snuck out the back and looked around the corner where he had a clear view of Nelson’s truck. Inside, most of the town’s residents were now crowded into the small bar, staring at Nelson without a sound. “Buy ya’ll a drink?,” he finished his beer and put out his cigarette as a sign of indifference as he ignored the townspeople and led Mary to the truck. Everyone followed him outside and stood in front of the bar, waiting patiently for what would happen next and Nelson began to seethe with anger at the audacity of it all. Still in position, Creed watched Nelson say something to Mary before she got into the truck, then he spun around and addressed the crowd that had followed him. Despite the distance, Creed could hear him clearly.

“The hell you people want?,” Nelson raised his arms as if inviting an attack, “Try’n scare me? Run me outta town? None of ya’ll have the balls, I know that fer damn sure,” he reached toward the rack at the back of his truck, removed his shotgun, then hefted it above his head, “Ya’ll remember this, huh? I’m sure ya do,” he placed the shotgun down in the bed of the truck and stepped toward the small crowd, “Got a six-shooter under my driver’s seat, too. Remember that? How `bout you, Dale? Got your ass! `Member that? And guess what? I got a whole lot more back home I’m fix’n to show ya’ll!,” he gnashed his teeth as his voice rose and he gazed at the crowd who did not react to his flaring temper, “Ya’ll think I’m mean now? Ya’ll don’t don’t know shit about mean! When I come back, I’m burning all this to the ground! All you see here? Ain’t gonna be a wall left to piss on!,” he ran a finger through the air, “I want every man here to understand this! I’m taking ya’ll out and your boys too, if ya got any. Then I’m gonna string your asses up in the trees, make ya’ll look like a bunch a’ n___ers sway’n in the wind,” he waited a moment to gage the crowd but no one took their eyes off him or made a sound, which angered him even more and his voice rumbled in a violent roar, “As for the women… yer wives, yer sisters, yer moms… even yer little girls?… Yeah, I’m gonna go deep inside each and every one of `em, believe you me. Gonna show `em what a real man feels like!” With those final words, a drop of saliva dripped down his bottom lip which he immediately wiped off and waited once more for a reaction that still never came. They continued to stare. His threats were powerless. His adrenaline rushed through his body, making his right leg quiver and in a last ditch effort, he shouted, “I OWN THIS TOWN!” His words were not heard by anyone, his voice, a high-pitched shrill, void of any masculinity that echoed into the distance. Somewhere, a dog barked. Nelson turned on his heel and marched back to his truck, defeated, unheard but most importantly, humiliated. The eyes of the crowd never turned away and somewhere deep in Nelson’s mind, there was a realization of how small he was.

Creed raced past the crowd to the bed of the truck where his loaded shotgun remained. He was always curious why Nelson would make such an obvious mistake and wondered if it was arrogance or stupidity. Seeing him in person, he realized it was both. Through the rearview window, he could see that Nelson was concentrating on a pack of cigarettes while Mary was simply watching him. He snatched the rifle from the bed of the truck, took aim… and hesitated.

He could see his mother clearly. She was afraid. He knew that once he took the shot, she would be traumatized. There would be nightmares. There would be a teenaged mother alone and afraid, forced to protect her son while everyone around her reminded her of the father. His sins would be her sins. His sins would be her son’s sins. When Farrell was 12 years old, he found himself wondering if it wasn’t for the best that she never gave birth to him so that all ties to Nelson Creed could have been severed. Killing his father was easy. Hurting his mother was impossible.

That’s when a hand reached out and squeezed his which forced him to slap the trigger. The back window imploded and blood sprayed along the windshield as Nelson’s head could be seen flying against the steering wheel. It was a clumsy shot through the clavicle due to the interference. Creed turned and saw Katey McGregor looking into his eyes. It was an unspoken conversation between them: she knew he would hesitate so she pulled the trigger for him. A scream came from inside the cab of the truck and Creed closed his eyes in guilt and remorse as tears welled up. Those were the terrified screams of his mother and there would be a part that blamed himself regardless of what Katey said to him next, “You have always been a good son and will be forever.” The passenger door flew open and Charlie and Miriam pulled Mary out, making sure to turn her away from Creed so she’d never see, then they carried her away to the nearby bank. Katey placed a hand on Creed’s shoulder, “Finish it.”

Creed silently handed the shotgun to her and marched toward the driver side as she wiped fingerprints off the rifle. He remembered his mistreatment in his youth because of Nelson Creed. He spent his entire life taking the abuse that should have been aimed at his father and it was time for redemption for both him and his mother. He flung the door open and there he saw Nelson Creed struggling to reach the gun under his seat. The shotgun blast had destroyed most of his collar bone and multiple tendons, rendering his left arm useless so he was attempting to reach across with his right hand. Blood was gushing from the wound, staining his clothes and the interior of the truck. The blood-loss and pain slowed him down and it seemed the fear and anger did not help him focus since he didn’t realize Creed was standing next to him. His fingers fumbled along the floorboard, nearly reaching his revolver until Creed slid it out from his grasp. Nelson looked up and the fear and anger in his eyes were replaced by utter confusion. He silently wondered who this new person was, briefly forgetting about the pain and danger he was in. Creed placed the barrel of the gun against his forehead and only had one thing to say.

“Hey, Dad.”

He squeezed the trigger and there was another spray of blood inside the cab. Nelson was flung back, his head hitting the edge of the passenger seat where some bits of gray matter and skull fragments fell out of the open door. Creed calmly wiped the gun for prints, then dropped it on the floor of the truck and walked away.

The people of Widow Springs followed suit; they all left the area without saying a word. They didn’t hurry but they didn’t take their time. They would all return home, continue with their chores, greet their children when they came home from school and prepare dinner. The next day would be the next day. Life continued. It was done.

Creed simply walked back to the wrecked truck in the woods where Gus was waiting with the Time Jacket.

“I did it,” he told him, then looked back in the direction of town.

“Think’n about your mom?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “Right now, I know she’s being kept in the bank over there. She’s gonna see the body and call the cops. This is gonna…,” he trailed off.

“How is she in the future?”

“She got through it.”

“Focus on that.”

“You’re probably right.”

“So I guess… I’ll see ya later.”

“Yeah,” he responded tiredly, “So you and the others will remember your parts for the future? It’s gonna be a long time from now. I kinda think Beau might get a little senile so ya’ll need to take care of him.”

“All things considered, it looks like we manage.”

Gus helped Creed put the Time Jacket on over his clothes and set the dial. “You’re sure you know how to use it?,” he asked. Gus smiled, “I do in the future, apparently, and I trust my notes.” He stood back and nodded to Creed who returned the nod and got back in his truck. “A straight path in reverse,” he told him as he started, “You don’t have to go fast… Good luck.” Creed put the truck in reverse and backed up. As he peered out the rearview window, he noticed the trees growing in an accelerated fashion and caught glimpses of multiple seasons and different skies. Then night came like a dropping curtain and he hit the brakes as he noticed a group of people appearing from the ether.

In 1979, state police would investigate the death of Nelson Creed. No one in Widow Springs gave them any useful information. They did, however, have much to say:

“That man was terrorizing us for years without the cops doing anything but as soon as someone takes his ass out, the authorities take notice? Ain’t that some shit?”

“I didn’t see it happen but I saw Nelson’s truck afterwards all shot up and bloody. Damn shame… it was a nice truck.”

“I was there but I didn’t see who did it. Penny on the ground.”

“I was in the tavern at the time but as soon as I heard the first gunshot, I just got under the pool table.”

The state officer looked at the notepad in his hand, “I got six other people say they got under the pool table when they heard gunshots.”

“… Biggest damn pool table ya ever seen.”

Years Later…

Creed climbed out of the truck and faced the people of Widow Springs. Taking the suit off was much easier this time. Gus stood before him, now far older and gray. Behind him, he noticed the surviving residents of Widow Springs and some of their adult children. Among them was Beau, Charlie, Miriam, Dale, Katey, their son Caleb (the bartender) and Darla (Dale and Katey’s daughter as expected).

“Good seeing ya again, Creed,” Gus said nervously and with a slight smile added, “If you’re think’n about hitting me, just remember, I’m an old man.”

“Not sure how I feel about any of this right now but… Nah, I ain’t gonna hit ya,” Creed handed the Time Jacket to him and then added “Keep that thing locked up.”

Gus nodded in agreement, then handed Creed a stack of bills, “For your time.”

Next: Welcome Back