Hellhole, a Short Fiction Story About Life

HELLHOLE
White centered golden daffodils and purple irises are the normal harbingers of spring in the midwest, that is, when there isn't a drought. However, today, after four years of hardly any rain, the people of the town of Darwin Gulch, Oklahoma knew it wasn't the flowers bringing in the spring. Disaster loomed overhead in an angry black sky. Rolling, banging thunderclouds sounded like drums, as they heralded in the coming tornado season. Bright flashes of forked lightening lit the morning sky, trying to compete with the sound effects in the distance.

Tom Doogan woke up wishing he was still in Kansas. There, they had cellars, but here, there was no place to hide. The only advantage here on the high plain was, he had work. There was nothing for miles around, except the little trailer park where they lived, a grocery store, gas station, and the old, unused, grain mill. Odds were, a tornado would never find them as far out as they were. Still, the sound of the weather quickly changing, and the wind whistling across the open fields was ominous. It brought a chill to his bones that he just couldn't shake.

Trailers gave Tom the willies anyway, and he hated living in one. It was his contention that God didn't like mobile homes. He told his wife Madeline about it often enough, but she just laughed it off.

"Tom," Madeline would say," you know that is just plain foolishness. God has no dislike for any place. HE created everything and he didn't make junk. He has only good intentions."

"Yeah, you can believe that if you like and it might be true, but when he ran out of ideas he created this hellhole. If there had been work in Kansas, we'd never have come here in the first place, and you know it," he stated emphatically.

"Well, you better stop frettin' and get a goin'." She handed him a paper bag. "Here's your lunch; you're gonna be late for work, honey." She kissed him and smiled broadly. "If its the money we came for, then you better be for puttin' in some hours, and stop standing round here jabberin' with me about the weather!" He reached over, patted her on the bottom and said, "OK, I'm going. But you take care of my two girls for me will ya?"

"Samantha and I'll be just fine. Get finished and hurry home, sweetheart."

He planted a kiss on her freckled cheek, patted her blonde head, and headed out to his Volkswagen bug. It was old but dependable. It would take him the fifteen miles he had to go to his job monitoring the electric pumps on 24 oil wells.

Once there, he checked the pumps and motors on each individual well's storage tank to make sure they worked. The pumps helped oil float to the top of the tanks while salt water sank to the bottom. He'd open a release value to let the water out and continue on to the next one, repeating the process until all were emptied. After finishing he would head for home. He did this everyday. He didn't make a lot of money, but at least it was honest work and it helped feed his family.

As Tom drove to the next well, the skies began to grow even blacker and soft droplets of rain began to fall. The farther he drove the heavier the rains became. Soon, it was pouring so hard he had to pull over. He could hardly see the road and it was too dangerous to keep moving, because he might drive off into an arroyo, a sort of ditch made by rivers of water when it flooded. He never suspected that he was already in trouble as he waited for the storm to subside.

"These damn Texas downpours are the worst," he spouted out loud. But it continued to come down in torrents, so finally he gave up. There was nothing he could do about the weather, so he decided to make the best of his time, and take a nap behind the wheel.

A strange sensation woke him. He thought, the car felt like it moved. He sat up and rechecked his brakes. They were definitely on, but the car was turning. There was no doubt about it. His body was being forced against the driver's door as the vehicle swung slowly around.

Tom heard his heart beating wildly in his ears. He tried to steer, but to no avail. Finally, he rolled down the window and looked out to find himself surrounded by a sea of muddy water. Torrents of rain had caused him to slide into an arroyo that had quickly filled with water.

"Oh my God," Tom mumbled under his breath. "I'm in one of those damn-d-able arroyo ditches!" The flood waters tossed the car into an eddy, a backwards whirlpool, banging it hard against the surrounding mud walls. A metallic taste filled his mouth. Fear hammered his chest, as he tried not to think of what might happen to him.

To combat the fear, Tom let his mind run free. It raced back to the days of childhood and riding the bump-de-bumper cars at the county fair. There was an element of danger, but still he knew he was fairly safe. That same feeling overwhelmed him now. The Volkswagen was water tight ... they said. However, it was old, and he was not as confident as he wanted to be that it wouldn't leak. The little car gyrated around in the water, like a leaf sucked down a water pipe. There was nothing to do but hang on. His thoughts turned to his family, and he wondered if his wife and baby were safe. What will they do without me, if I don't get out of this mess? He asked himself.

"God, please let me see my family again," he prayed.

Suddenly, as if his prayers were answered, the rain stopped. Lightening still flashed in the distance adding a strange miracle dimension to the ceasing of the rain. The car continued to go round in circles, then finally ... the wheels hit something solid.

He quickly took advantage of it. Shifting the gears into first, he began to pull out of the ditch. But the wheels slipped and the car slide back into the swirling waters.

Within minutes, he felt the ground beneath his wheels once more and he tried to free himself, but the force of the water was too much for the little bug. The car seemed to sink even more into the quagmire that clung to him with such force. He began to lose hope and then he felt solid earth a third time under the tires of the little car. This time, he finally succeeded in getting enough traction to pull out of the muddy rat race.

He sat there for a few minutes experiencing relief, thanking God for his life. Then he remembered there were two more tanks to empty. In spite of his terrorizing experience, he finished his work, relieved and felt free to head for home.

As he neared the little town, something seemed wrong. Something was missing.

"Where is the old grain mill?" He wondered.

In the spot where the mill had been, a small group of people milled around, including his wife and daughter.

"Is everyone OK? What happened, here?" Tom asked in puzzlement.

"We had a visitor," Madeline answered.

"Was it a tornado?"

"Well, a big wind of some kind did it. It was an eyesore, already falling down, so it's a blessing it's gone." She looked over at the mud covered Volkswagen and frowned. "What happened to the old yellow car? Looks like you had quite a day too!"

"Yes I did, and I'll never call this place a hellhole again. There are worse places, I found out today. Let's just say I had a chance to think , and Honey, I'll never again argue with you about God's intentions. I'll tell you all about it, one day."

They headed home and he never doubted God's work again.