The Trigger Effect
© 2005 By Ken Glassmeyer
© 2005 By Ken Glassmeyer
CHAPTER FOUR
Natalie Winslow heard the sirens. She had a batter to stir, so she couldn’t pull away from the stove to peek out the window. It sounded like a number of squad cars were racing form all over the city into Greenspring Dale. To her wise ears it sounded like trouble, and not the kind with a capital “T” in River City. The wail of the emergency vehicles sounded angry. Suddenly she heard her grandson, Kellen, skid his bike to a stop on the sidewalk and throw his brand new bike up on the porch with a crash. There were a few scuttling noises, followed by the rusty yawn of her screen door being yanked open and then followed quickly behind by the sound of her youngest, and favorite, grandchild slamming that inner door. Her brow furrowed when she heard his loud footsteps as he bolted up the stairs to the guest bedroom that was really his room. He slept here more often than he did at his mother’s place across the courtyard in the same housing project. When it came right down to it, Kellen was like a son to her, and she felt the tears of fear leak out of her old eyes hoping that those weren’t police sirens and that they weren’t connected to her grandchild’s sudden haste.
Natalie started to put down the mixing bowl to follow him upstairs to interrogate him, but she knew that would only increase the fear and loathing that currently seemed to dominate Kellen’s mood. Instead, she reached for the Nestle Tollhouse chips and folded them into the batter. Even if Kellen wanted to hide from his troubles in his room—the warm, sweet scent of her secret recipe would draw him down the stairs. Natalie understood kitchen therapy and comfort food more than any practicing psychologist could hope to grasp.
She smiled as she spooned dollops of dough on the cookie sheet considering her words and where she would pause when Kellen was ready to talk. It was a sad smile. She began to hum “Blessed Savior” very slowly as she pre-heated the oven. Her prayerful reflection was broken by the sound of yet another screaming siren. This time she did look out the window and saw that an ambulance had just turned the corner where her townhouse was and it sliced down the street and made a hard left bank through the intersection running a car onto the sidewalk just before the swaying van jumped to the next intersection, slowing only after swerving into the middle school parking lot. Natalie stopped humming and began singing loudly in the tabernacle of her kitchen.
Upstairs, Kellen was moving about the room in a frenzy. The voice of Kit-Kat was nowhere to be found. Where was his calm and cool advice? Kellen was just a little scared kid that had been misled by a fantasy voice in his head that when the chips were down was more cowardice than bravado. That was when he heard the laugh echo in his head. It was diabolical in its cruelty.
“Chill lil’ bro. I gotcha covered. You need to snap out of this scared little momma’s boy thing. Now, just make sure your room here is good and legal then head over to your mom’s place, cool as the cat you are, ditch the box knife and the bike in the sewer, then clean your room at your mom’s place to—no sweat.”
Kellen nodded to himself and went about double-checking the room. He rarely left anything at his grandmother’s house. Mostly out of fear of her wrath, but also because this was his safe place. He was about to speed downstairs and grab his bike when he smelled the sweet fragrance of Grandma’s Tollhouse cookies baking and decided he could stick around here for a while. Besides, he wasn’t in any hurry to be back on the streets. He definitely didn’t want to go back to his mom’s run down slum.
Kellen moved to bathroom quietly and splashed some water on his face. He looked in the mirror and decided that would not get it. He stripped down, brushed his teeth and took a hot shower. When he stepped back out of the bathroom, the first few batches of cookies were already done. The small townhouse was filled with the delightful aroma. He glided down the steps and into the kitchen, kissing his grandmother on the corner of the mouth as he reached for a hot cookie cooling on the racks on the counter. She playfully swatted his hand, but let him take two gooey ones just the same. Kellen felt her curious stare and had learned long ago it was better not to let grandma’s intuition to get into interrogation mode.
He took a big bite of cookie and beamed his appreciation at her. Chewing and swallowing carefully he then spoke before eating the second cookie, “What’s up with all the cops and stuff outside?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“Beats me, but dude driving the EMT car about killed me when he flew around the corner. I put a dent in my new bike, and scratched my elbows and knees up pretty bad—had to get a shower just to get all the gravel out.”
“Oh, let me see that child, are you still bleeding?”
“It’s better now. . .”
Natalie grabbed her grandson’s arm gently and put her spectacles on to look at the fresh strawberry on his elbow. She pulled into the downstairs bathroom despite his complaints and opened the medicine cabinet. She searched for her tweezers and the Bactine. Kellen winced at her.
“Now child, it might hurt now, but if you let it get infected it will hurt much more later. There is still a bit a grit in this, I thought I taught you to take a better shower than that. . .”
“Ah granny, let me be.”
“Now you mind me.” She smiled at her charge, “Let an old woman dote on her favorite grandchild. There’s a sack of cookies in it for you.”
“Okay, just don’t kiss it after you use the Bactine. I’m not three any more.”
“Well, aren’t we the grown up young man. Maybe it’s time we move up to straight alcohol and iodine.”
The sound of “grown-up” first aid stung. “Oh alright, you can kiss it. Just don’t tell anybody.”
“Your secret is safe with me, child. Now tell me more about how you fell off your bike. My friend’s son works in the dispatcher’s office, did you get the car number off the back?”
“Don’t worry about it grams. I’m cool. Besides, it was my fault. I should have got up on the walk as soon as I heard them.”
“Well I guess you at least learned from you fall. Keep doing that and you’ll grow up to be a fine young man.”
Guilt burned in Kellen heart far more than the Bactine stung.
Suddenly there was a loud knock at the front door.
“Now who could that be?”
Another knock followed and it made the frame shake slightly.
Kellen followed behind his grandmother as she went to the door. There were two uniformed police officers on the front porch. The bigger one was about to pound on the door again when Natalie opened the door and chastised him for his rudeness. Kellen smiled and looked down. His grandmother was very talented in lectures about manners and he could see that it worked even on big old, mean looking cops. He backed off the stoop and let his partner take over, but grandma let him have another earful and didn’t lift her fierce eyes off the man, until the partner took over.
“Mam, my partner don’t know his own strength. We apologize for bothering you, but we just wanted to check and see if you saw any kids in the neighborhood up to mischief this afternoon?”
“The only mischief, young man, is the way those emergency vehicles tore through this neighborhood. They nearly killed my grandson. I can appreciate that there are emergencies, but it wouldn’t be very productive for you people to kill and maim on your way to those emergencies, now would it?”
Both cops peered into the townhouse and saw Kellen’s scrapes, the Bactine, tweezers, and used cotton balls. The big one was about to peer closer at Kellen’s face, but decided he had seen enough. Kellen saw his cop eyes record something in the exchange, but then he turned and stepped down to the walk. Kellen wondered if his little wipe-out in the school parking lot when he sped from the scene had left any traces. The cops eyes showed that he was suspicious about something, but he was not about to invite badgering from the woman again. Both police officers thanked Natalie and politely excused themselves. His grandmother turned from the porch and shut the door, bolting it. Kellen decided he would just stay here for the evening since the cops appeared to be canvassing the entire neighborhood.
