The Slob Monster of Stubblestone Creek

Vonda Norwood

EDITING

Twin headlights from a Greyhound bus carved a narrow path through the darkness of an endless highway in Kansas. Its engine’s steady growl vibrated up through the floorboards and into the bones of a full load of travelers headed from Omaha, Nebraska to its final destination of El Paso, Texas. Inside, the windows mirrored ghostlike reflections of half-seen faces. Smells of fast food wrappers mingled with the lingering sharpness of diesel that seeped in each time the doors had opened. Some passengers slept with slack faces, their breaths slow and uneven, while others stared ahead with hollow eyes. Bodies slumped against high-back seats, shoulders brushed strangers, heads knocked softly with each bump in the road. Overhead lights glowed faintly and cast a weak, yellow haze.

Twin headlights from a Greyhound bus carved a narrow path through the darkness of an endless highway in Kansas. Its engine’s steady growl vibrated up through the floorboards and into the bones of a full load of travelers headed from Omaha, Nebraska to its final destination of El Paso, Texas. Inside, the windows mirrored ghost-like reflections of half-seen faces. Smells of fast food wrappers mingled with the lingering sharpness of diesel that seeped in each time the doors had opened. Some passengers slept with slack faces, their breaths slow and uneven, while others stared ahead with hollow eyes. Bodies slumped against high-back seats, shoulders brushed strangers, heads knocked softly with each bump in the road. Overhead lights glowed faintly and cast a weak, yellow haze.

In the very back of that bus, Mrs. Rodriguez sat stiffly. Her fingertips clinched cool, vinyl armrests. She stared across the aisle at a young woman who clutched an infant to her chest. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow and deep. The baby’s small, bald head bounced softly beneath the young woman’s chin. Mr. Rodriguez leaned into his wife’s shoulder. He whispered in Spanish, “Have you gone broody?”

The middle-aged lady glided her denim skirt-covered knees into her husband’s left knee. She then gently rested her temple against Rubin’s forehead. Her tone of voice matched his, and in Spanish, “Why did I marry a crazy man?”

“It’s what crazy women do.” Ruben nodded slowly. His sweaty brow warmed her entire head.

She shivered. “I’m–”

“You need to rest.” He raised his head and stared down into her brown eyes. “This is a long trip, Baby. If you don’t rest, I don’t rest.” He frowned.

Maria glanced around before bringing her lips to his ear. “There are a lot of weird people on this bus.”

Ruben smiled softly and he cupped Maria’s hands. “She’s going to think you are one of them.”

“I’m just watching out f–” Directly behind them, the bathroom door snapped open. A lanky man, coughing with tightly closed lips, and who reeked of urine and motor oil, burst into the aisle. He’d been in there so long, Ruben forgot anyone had gone to the bathroom. He tugged the door until it closed with a sharp, final click. Maria bowed her head, she blinked rapidly and her eyes watered. Ruben leaned forward and he held his breath. The stranger stumbled and he bounced off the side of Maria’s chair into the side of the chair where the woman and baby sat sleeping.

Under the low, jaundiced glow of the overhead lights, the baby’s head popped up. The young mother gasped. She cradled the infant and pivoted toward the empty window seat beside her.

Maria shifted toward the aisle, and she readjusted her skirt to lay flat over her knees. No matter how many times Maria’s eyelids fluttered, a yellow haze masked the full view of that stranger’s face. Still coughing, he paused his forward motion and then reached toward the mother’s back. Maria raised her hand, and she placed her open palm between the tall stranger’s fingers and the woman’s back. Ruben hopped to his feet. The shadowy cougher whipped around and he stumbled away.

A sharp cry from the baby cut through the grumbles made by passengers. Ruben slowly returned to his seat. Maria pivoted to face him. He then pointed, motioning for her to switch seats with him.

After settling in the seat that once was his wife’s, Ruben gazed across the aisle at the young woman who swayed with her quiet baby to the steady, rhythmic jolts of the bus. The infant was wrapped in a pink blanket that carried a faint, powdery scent of milk. The woman spotted Ruben’s stare. He smiled and gave her a nod. She glanced away and clutched her child firmly. Ruben shifted to face forward and he cleared his throat. Maria patted his knee.

Author Vonda Norwood

Characters in the prologue:

Lisa Ackers; Bill and Loni’s daughter. 

William Ackers #3; A.K.A. Bill, Lisa’s father, Loni Lee’s husband, O.H.P. Trooper.

Loni Lee; Bill’s wife, Lisa’s mother.

William Ackers Jr.; Bill’s father, Lisa’s grandfather, son of William Ackers Sr..

Moana Ackers; William Ackers Jr.’s wife, Bill’s mother, Lisa’s grandmother.

John Lee; Loni’s father, Lisa’s grandfather. 

Ruby Lee; John Lee’s wife, Loni’s mother, Lisa’s grandmother.

Henry Barsby; Michelle’s husband, drives to Stubble Stone Creek with “Marlon Brando”. 

Michelle Barsby; Henry’s wife.

“Marlon Brando”; Drives to Stubble Stone Creek with Henry Barsby.

Jim Feeks; O.H.P. Sergeant, Bill’s boss, Clair Feeks husband.

Claire Feeks; Jim’s wife, farmer.

Adam Olstead; The Ackers’ neighbor, dog breeder.