Travis Lee: Letter To Belinda Part 1

Letter to Belinda.

A Novel.

by Tim Tingle.

For my son, Andrew.

On his trip to England.

Acknowledgements.

Thanks to my mother, Lois Tingle, and Judy Owings for their help in reading and editing this story. And thanks to my wife, Nanette, for editing, and the use of her magnificent and mind boggling computer skills. And for was.h.i.+ng my clothes.

1.

Howard Gibb's body had been badly broken up in a rock fall in 1988, and he was lucky to be alive. And he probably should have taken the 100% disability he was offered, as most miners would have done, but not Howard. When asked why he wanted to continue working instead of relaxing at home on his disability checks, he replied, "I've got a bad case of a.n.a.l glaucoma. I just can't see my a.s.s doing that." He knew that if he just sat at home like a vegetable, he would simply die of boredom. And so that was why he took the job of 'control room operator', which was not much more than someone to answer the telephone and re-route messages from person to person at the mine. It was a boring job, but someone had to do it. Howard loved the job though. He could sit in his wheelchair and watch the monitors from West A and B headers, from the bunker, and hear the conversations between section foremen, and the problems they were having, and sometimes he could connect them with someone who could help. In the event of a disaster of some kind, such as a mine explosion, or fire, or an injury, Howard was designated as 'The Responsible Person' who was to coordinate the appropriate response. The mantle of responsibility he wore when he was on duty was the best kind of therapy a crippled man could get. He was always useful, and at times, even important.

That said however, this evening had been very boring. Coal production had been good, therefore there were few calls out from the sections. But late in the s.h.i.+ft he took an unusual call from a line outside the mine.

"h.e.l.lo, Savage Creek #2 Mine."

Silence on the other end.

"I said h.e.l.lo! Anyone there?" He was about to hang up when he heard someone clear their throat. He spoke again.

"This is #2 Mine. How can I help you?"

Hesitantly, a ragged female voice finally spoke up. "I need to get in touch with Travis Lee. He does work there, doesn't he?"

"Yes ma'am. Is this an emergency?"

"It is to me. Can I speak to him please?" She seemed upset, but holding herself together.

"Okay, Travis is still underground, but I can page him to call out. Are you his wife?"

"Does that matter? No, I'm just a friend."

"I see."

"I really need to talk to him right now!" She was getting irritated at the delay.

"Would you like to leave a name and number, so he can call you when he gets out?"

"No, that's okay. I mean yes, I need him to call me as soon as he gets out, but I can't leave my name or number."

"That doesn't leave me much to go on, Ma'am."

"I know. I'm sorry. Can I stay on hold until he gets out? What time will he get out?"

"Usually about 10 P.M., which is about 45 minutes from now. That's a long time to be on hold, Ma'am. Actually, I can't tie up a line that long, in case of an emergency."

"Then I have no choice but to call back."

"Okay, suit yourself." She had already hung up, so he did the same. s.e.xy voice, he thought. Actually, this was not an unusual type of call. He often got calls from women trying to reach someone who worked there. Often it was a girlfriend trying to reach her lover, without his wife finding out. He learned long ago not to ask too many questions in those situations. He didn't want to get entangled in a domestic dispute. He just conveyed the messages without trying to interpret them, though the interpretation was often the fun part. G.o.d, I love this job! He thought. Travis was not accustomed to getting those kinds of calls though.

Exactly 45 minutes later she called back, that same s.e.xy voice he heard before, only now she seemed more composed.

"Is Travis Lee out of the mine yet?"

"No Ma'am, but he should be just any time. Listen, you can leave a phone number, and I will see that it confidentially gets to him, if that will help."

"Yes, it would. Okay, write down this number. 555-7895."

"555-7895, got it! I'll pa.s.s it on to him!"

"Thank you." She had no sooner hung up when he heard the air brakes set on the service hoist, which meant that the elevator had just come to the top. He looked out the window and saw three men get off the elevator, black with coal dust, heading for the lamp house. One of them was Travis Lee. Howard paged him. "Travis Lee, come to the control room before you shower, please." He saw Travis wave at him, an indication that he had heard the page.

As Travis washed his boots off, he couldn't help wondering what he had done now. He had already had a bad s.h.i.+ft, and bad luck seemed to come in cl.u.s.ters. He entered the lamp house, put his lamp on charge, then climbed the steps to the control room.

"What do you need, Howie?"

"Just to inform you that you got two phone calls, the first about an hour ago, and the other one as the cage was coming up. She wants you to call her back as soon as possible."

"Who, Janice?'

"No, I don't think it was your wife. Here's the phone number she left. You can call her from here if you like."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"It's nothing to me. If a man wants to call his girlfriend from work, that's his business. She sounds s.e.xy! Is she good looking?"

"Of course she is. She's my oldest sister."

"Yeah, right!"

"Yeah, really. I have three sisters. This is my oldest sister's phone number."

"Oh, I see. Well, that puts my mind at ease. I thought you might be slipping around." Howard distinctly remembered the woman saying that she was 'just a friend', but he didn't want to press the matter.

"Nope, not me! Janice would have my hide! I'll call my sister from downstairs." He started to leave, then thought of something else, and stopped in the doorway to tell him one more thing. "Oh, Howie. Should Janice call later to see where I am, don't tell her that my sister called."

"Why not?"

"Because she'll know something is up. See, I'm planning to surprise her on our anniversary, and my sister is helping plan it. If Janice knows my sister called here, she would know something is up."

"Okay, I won't say a word."

As Travis descended the stairs, he looked at the phone number, but it didn't look familiar. No, it wasn't his sister, but it was best to give that impression, because he knew how rumors originated and spread in a coal mine. Lying was a smoke screen to stop gossip before it got started. He had no idea whose number this was. He knew it was a Tuscaloosa County exchange, but he couldn't think of anyone he knew in Tuscaloosa that would be trying to call him. Certainly not a woman who would be calling him at work, at this late hour.

In the past six months he had seen a lot of traumatic changes in his life. Part of it was that he and his wife, Janice were having to deal with their six teenage kids, who seemed to get into more trouble, the older they got. For example, Jenny, their eldest daughter, had gone into the Air Force last spring, immediately went AWOL from Boot Camp, and was booted out of the Air Force. But then she extended her streak of bad decisions, by not coming back home, or telling anyone what had happened. Instead, she got drunk and married the first good-for-nothing deadbeat she could find, and got pregnant. She then decided that the marriage wasn't her 'cup of tea', and called home to get her dad to a.s.sist her in getting a divorce from Rodney, who had no intention of letting her go. Travis instructed her to come back home, and he would try to help her. However, when she came back home, she brought with her, that deadbeat husband from whom she wanted a divorce, which was not what Travis meant, when he initially told her to come back home. So for the past eight weeks, his daughter, and this deadbeat had been living in his back bedroom. They were supposedly looking for jobs to make money to get out on their own, and Jenny was working, as a cas.h.i.+er at Hardees. But Rodney had not so much as left the back bedroom, except to eat and c.r.a.p, which he only did when Travis was at work. This did not set well with Travis. And then Travis found out that Rodney had secretly tied into their internet hook-up, and was using it to access p.o.r.n sites, and was even taking an on-line course to be a licensed Warlock in the Church Of Satan!

When Travis found out about this, he immediately, and physically threw Rodney out of his house, while the whole time, the fool was trying to cast a spell on him. He allowed Jenny to haul his stuff out of the house to him, and then watched as the cursing moron drove away in his beat up Gremlin. At that time, Jenny decided that yes, she did want a divorce, and stayed at home with her family. The same day, Travis took Jenny to see a lawyer, about starting the divorce proceedings. Rodney was enraged by the news of the divorce, and threatened them with everything from a counter-lawsuit, to afflicting them with pestilence and disease through a satanic incantations learned off the internet. His constant calling and threatening, terrified Janice, but Travis blew them off as just idle threats. Rodney knew better than to call when he was there. He had already pa.s.sed word on to Rodney that if he physically came back out to their farm, that he would not live to see his body hit the ground. Travis was a survivor of the Special Forces in Vietnam. He was one of their best trained killers, and he made no idle threats. He was actually hoping that Rodney was stupid enough to knock on his door while he was at home. Jenny's primary problem would be solved in seconds. He had already thought up about twenty possible methods for the disposal of the body, by which it would never be found. So he thought that this mysterious woman calling him at work could be something to do with Jenny's divorce. He would call from the lamp house phone because it was an outside line that was not a part of the mine system.

He dialed the number and it had hardly rang one time before someone picked up. But there was no voice on the other end, so Travis ventured a 'h.e.l.lo', then heard a familiar voice, "Travis, is that you?"

"Yes, this is Travis Lee."

"Is this a secure line?"

He smiled when he recognized the voice. It could only belong to one person. "Is that you, Miranda?"

"Yes it is."

"It's been a long time since I've heard from you. Where are you calling from?"

"The house of a friend." Unable to hold it back any longer, she burst into tears.

"Let me guess, there's something wrong?"

"Oh Travis, it's so good to hear your voice again!"

"But that's not why you're crying, is it?"

"It's part of it. Oh Travis, I'm in big trouble! I didn't know who else to turn to that I could trust. When we were traveling together, you always seemed to know exactly what to do in any situation."

"I was lucky."

"Well, I need some of your luck right now, because I have definitely gotten myself into a 'situation'!"

"Tell me about it."

"No, I can't, not over the phone. You've got to come over here and see this for yourself."

"This had better not be one of your tricks to get me over there so you can attempt to s.e.xually abuse me!"

Miranda couldn't help laughing through her tears at such an absurd suggestion. Even in the worst of situations, Travis knew exactly what to say to make her smile, and this was certainly one of the worst situations she had ever been in. She sniffled through her tears and replied, "You don't have to worry about that! I just gave up on s.e.x, after what happened tonight!"

"What happened?"

"Not over the phone. I need you here."

"Where is 'here'? I didn't recognize the phone number."

"Oh G.o.d, that's right. You've never been out here to my new house, have you?"

"New house? Way to go, girl! Making good use of your lottery winnings eh?"

"It's not a mansion, but it's real nice. Small but nice. It's right next door to the house where I'm calling you from."

"In Tuscaloosa?"

"Yes, northeast of Tuscaloosa, on the Warrior River. Have you ever heard of Kellerman?"

"Yes, I know where Kellerman is."

"Okay, you go up Kellerman road, which is Highway 18, I think, past the old Burchfield store, and turn off onto River Road. The houses along the river are off the road, so all you can see are the driveways where they branch off. You pa.s.s three driveways, and mine is the fourth. But where I'm calling from right now is the fifth driveway. The number on the mailbox is 312. How soon can you be here?"

"You're serious? You want me to come over there right now?"

"The sooner the better."

"It can't wait until tomorrow?"

"Absolutely not!"

"How long will this take?"

"Not long, I hope. I don't even know what has to be done. That's why I called you!"

"You're not even going to give me a hint as to what this is all about, are you?"

"Look Travis, either you help me, or you don't! But you are the only person I can trust to help me with this! If you won't help me, I think I'll just kill myself and be done with it!"

"No, don't talk like that! I'll come right over! I can't guarantee that I can help, but I can certainly a.s.sess the situation. You said you're calling from a friend's house, where is he? Why can't he help?" (Travis was sure that this friend was a 'he'.) "Oh, he's no help at all! He's the cause of this whole mess!"

"Will you be there when I get there?"

There was an almost hysterical laugh. "Of course I'll be here! Where the h.e.l.l could I go?"

"Okay, I'll have to shower first. It will take me about an hour to get there from here. Is that okay?"

"It sounds great. Oh Travis, you'll never know how much I appreciate you doing this! You are absolutely the only person I can turn to!"

"I hope I can help."

"There is one more thing, Travis."

"What?"

"When you get here, the house will be locked. I am inside, but I can't come to the door."