Hazard 7

August, 2009
Hazard, Nebraska

The bedroom was dark and smelt already of death. Mackie held Diana's thin, practically wasted hand. She was dying. Deep in his heart, Mackie was amazed that it had taken so long. The doctor's had said her cancer had progressed so far it wasn't worth their while to operate. Their while? Their while?!? What about his mother?!? She was the one dying, not them! How dare they say 'not worth their while'!!!
Every day for the last few weeks, Mackie had sat up nearly all night, clutching his mother's hand, and wiping away the blood-streaked phlegm she coughed up. Doctor Carter had come to see her – cursing Mackie the whole time of course – and had basically said it was her choice, did she want to die at home or in hospital? Mackie knew in his heart there was no hope, but still he clutched to the outer edges, praying to God, or indeed any god that was listening, to miraculously cure his mother. But it wasn't working. His prayers might have been keeping her alive, but they weren't making her any better. She just kept getting skinnier and skinnier. She was barely flesh and bones. Her blonde hair, once so long and thick, was nothing but a few wisps of short strands. She looked as if she were already dead. A corpse that still happened to breathe and cough and wheeze. She was never warm enough. Even with the fire roaring and the blankets piled high, she was cold. Mackie wasn't exactly looking that great either.
He'd been running himself ragged. The only time he left his mother's side was to get her a drink or to refill the hot water bottle or get some more wood for the fire or to use the bathroom. He hadn't slept in anything more than ten minutes blocks for nearly three weeks. He hadn't eaten for days. His face looked haggard. His clothes were rumpled and dirty, he hadn't changed them in almost a week. His hair, unwashed, was plastered to his skull. He was so weak he'd caught a cold, even though it was summer. He was exhausted; his body wished it would end soon; his heart and mind crying out that they didn't care what his body had to suffer so long as it helped to keep Diana alive.
Slowly coming alert, he heard what had startled him back to consciousness. Another cough was racking Diana's body. Without even thinking, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, helping her sit upright, and held a tissue to her lips. She was too weak to hold it there herself.
"Mackie?" she breathed as the fit subsided.
"What is it Mom? Has the water bottle gone cold again?"
"No Mackie, I haven't been able to feel my feet for days,"
"Why didn't you tell me?!? I could have got the doctor! I could have –" his anger was impotent, a cover-up for the fear taking over.
"Pray for me, my son," her eyes were becoming unfocused.
"No! No, Mom! Don't go!! Please!! Don't leave me!!! Mom!!!"
"Goodbye," her eyes closed and the last breath slowly eased out of her cancer-ridden lungs. Mackie just stared. He let go of her hand. He stood up and took a tiny step back. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Mom?" he whispered. She didn't answer.

The bag was heavy on his back, but nowhere near as heavy as his grief, as Mackie softly shut the door to his house for the last time. In his mind, he went over everything he'd packed, checking, knowing that even if he'd forgotten something, he wouldn't go back for it. Clothes, food, drink, a lighter, sleeping bag, loaded rifle, a candle, the picture of his whole family. He'd pulled the sheet over Diana's head; let the neighbours find her at peace if and when they ever decided to visit. His family; they were all together again, except for him. Why hadn't he just shot himself and had it over with?
The 'Welcome to Hazard' sign was coming up on his right. Point of no return.
What had Hazard ever given him, except tears and pain and death? Nothing. God fucking dammit, Hazard had given him nothing but hate and prejudice! What had Life ever given him, except tears and pain and death? Absolutely nothing. What was the point in staying?
He didn't know where he was going; he had nowhere to go, except Tulsa. Never would he go back there. What he really wanted was death to come and grant him peace, reunite him with his family. Yet he was too much of a coward to pick up the gun, put it in his mouth and pull the trigger!


A small whoop in the background caught his attention. His house wasn't all that far away. Even in the dark, he could see four figures coming up the front path. They came onto the porch . . . and smashed the light. Mackie had seen who it was. If the Kilch's decided to break into his house, they could take whatever they wanted. He'd hidden all the family photos in a small crevice in the storm cellar. Call him a stupid fuckwit, but he couldn't bare to let anyone have the only other memories of his family besides his own. Another light burst it's brilliance. A burning branch. Mackie felt the dread grip him. No! They wouldn't! They wouldn't dare! They – Whoosh! In a few short seconds, the whole house was on fire. Rushing down the front path, the Kilch boys grabbed their bikes and pedaled hell for leather down the road, back to their own house.
Damn these tears! Mackie felt them slide from his eyes. They were a familiar traitor. Now his mother wouldn't even get a decent burial. The sobs erupted from his throat. Unsuccessfully attempting to swallow them down, Mackie turned his back on the burning house – and the smoking remains of his shattered life – and walked away. . . .


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Epilogue

Extract from the local news
August 21st, 2009

'Yesterday's house fire in Hazard has claimed the lives of its two occupants, Diana and Mackenzie Hanson, mother and brother of the musical group Hanson, who were killed eight years ago in the North Dakota air disaster of 2001. It is known that Diana Hanson, at the time, was stricken with lung cancer. Mackenzie, a renowned trouble-maker in the area, was known by locals as a boy who did not care about his mother's predicament and many say it was he, and not the fire, that drove his mother to her grave, and although they are deeply sorry at the passing of Diana, believe Mackenzie got 'only what he deserved'. The boy was the police's prime suspect in the disappearance of Mary Hutchinson last month. A funeral service is being held for Diana and Mackenzie at St. David's Church in Hazard next Wednesday. And now in Sports. . . .'


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