Bound Together

By J. R. Caldwell

BOUND TOGETHER, the poignant story of Brock Zeigler and Alexander Marley. Three days before beginning his two year commitment to the Peace Corps in Rwanda, the recent college grad saves fourteen-month-old Alex from a burning car wreck in which both of the toddler's parents die. A bond is created between the two that will last a lifetime. Separated for years, they will meet again and switch roles.

 

An emotional roller coaster of a read, almost every chapter having a masterful blend of joy and sorrow, conflict and comfort. There are bonds in life that are natural such as parents and family; bonds in life that are chosen such as marriage and friends and bonds in life that traumas create. Available at Amazon, Bound Together by J.R.Caldwell will touch your altruistic humanity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jim Caldwell
• Release date: May 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227930095

Book preview

1.

The caller hyperventilated. Her high-pitched voice had reached a point of screeching.

Whoa! Take a breath, young lady. From the sheer lack of coherence and shrill soprano tone, Julienne Eston assumed it was an adolescent in her late teens. Take two very ... very ... very ... deep breaths and calm down so I can understand your emergency. Breathe in and out and take your time.

She was well trained. With eighteen years of experience, the 911 operator at the Erie County Department of Safety knew how to handle frantic and unhinged people on the line. This was the hub where all types of emergencies phoned to get help and direction. Attempting to compose the party that she might gather and assess the critical information with speed and clarity, Julienne cautioned her in a firm tone.

"They ... ahh ... they ... ahh ... they tried to kill him ... the girl shrieked, inhaling and gasping between sniffs and sobs, panting heavily as expected from someone having a panic attack, they shot him!"

Please. Settle. Slow down and tell me what has happened. First, tell me your name?

Ella ... Ella, she continued huffing, Bexley.

Spell your last name.

B ... e ...x –.

And from where are you calling?

Community Savings ... and ... Community Savings and Loan on Wall Street.

Wall Street? North East Borough?

Ye ... ye ... yes.

Correct address?

Sixty-two Wall, ... ahh the young woman was gaining control of her raving hysterics with the thought of help being on the way, Wall Street, North East.

"Tell me in full sentences what has happened."

Two men ... wearing ski masks ... robbed us, she screamed, "and shot him!"

Is the victim still alive at the present moment to your knowledge?

I think, but he is bleeding and his eyes are closed. She trailed off as she must have turned away from the receiver to look at the scene another time. He’s lying on the floor by his office door.

Who is the person on the floor? Who is he and approximately how old?

Mr. Randolph is trying to stop the bleeding. He’s stuffing his tie into his stomach. He’s our boss, a man in his fifties.

"Which one is your boss? Mr. Randolph or the man who was shot? What is his name? And which man is in his fifties? The one that was shot?"

Mr. Boyle.

Mr. Boyle is the man who was shot?

Yes! He’s our boss in this office.

Do you have any idea where he is wounded?

Umm, her voice went soft and low a second time as she stretched to see and yelled to Mr. Randolph. The bullet hit him on his left side, near his belt!

With the relevance of both a life threatening situation and a crime still in progress, Julienne flipped on her co-operator’s screen, signaling to him to promptly dispatch one of the two BLS ambulances from the Milhouse Firehouse over on Main Street.

Daniel Roseman alerted a second one as backup from their location on 12th in Erie. It was possible as they raced up Route 20 that they would reach the casualty before someone from the local volunteer service was contacted and on their way. A male in his fifties shot and down. Bleeding, but still alive!

Julienne pressed for more information.

Tell me exactly what you witnessed? Two men, you say? Can you give any description, approximate height, age, Caucasian or what?

Two guys ... I would say in their late twenties, both white, entered with their faces completely covered and demanded money. Waving their guns in the air, they yelled for everyone to lie down on the floor. Randolph says the taller one looked to be about five-ten as he ran past the measuring stick near the glass doors. As our manager came out of his office to see what the commotion was all about, the other one, the little guy, fired his gun at him. Boyle fell in his doorway.

Did they get money?

Yes. We’re instructed not to fight robbers. Louise emptied her drawer as well as Darin and James. Most likely, several hundred if not a few thousand.

Did you or anyone see a getaway vehicle of any sort?

No, we were all still lying on the floor. Someone in the background shouted something. She held the phone away. Mr. Randolph says it was a used blue Honda Civic.

Did he catch any part of the license plate?

No, the young teller said with confidence, having quieted to a reasonable point.

Does anybody know in which direction they sped off?

Mr. Evans said they zoomed away up Wall and he thinks they turned left onto Mill Street.

Did this Mr. Evans see their plate? Julienne was typing the pertinent information as fast as possible on her monitor, which was being displayed simultaneously on the screens in police vehicles throughout the County.

No.

Stay with me, Julienne instructed her. She sent out the ABP. Squads. 10-20’s, full alert. A robbery and a 10-71 trauma situation in progress in the North East Borough at the Community Savings and Loan on Wall Street. Citizens throughout the area, whose hobby was to listen to the police scanner during the day, knew well that a 10-71 meant a shooting.

I’m sitting at the intersection of Routes 90 and 79, monitoring traffic. On my way. Officer Sean Hindley flipped on the red ball and sped east. Harry Red Bradman answered his location near UPMC Hamot Hospital. 10-4. He hit the siren.

Two others responded. One from the main station on State Street in the heart of the city; the other, car number 742, who was patrolling near the Gannon campus. Julienne broadcasted the particulars. Two men, late twenties, Caucasian in a used blue Honda, no license received. Armed and dangerous. Racing through the Borough of North East on North Mill. Possibly heading to the New York border.

Victor Martinez was one block over from the scene at the K & W lumber yard buying the wood necessary to extend the front porch at Mrs. Lewis’s place on Hillcrest Drive. He owned a one man, handyman business. Hearing the commotion on the other street as he placed the boards into the bed of his truck, he stopped short. With the harsh noise of the gunning of a motor and the squealing of the wheels, the speeding vehicle tipped sideways navigating the ninety degree turn at the corner. Victor charged to see. He smelled the burning rubber, heard the screech as it accelerated from zero to sixty in seconds. Saw the Civic racing up North Mill and heard the brakes of the approaching Federal Express Van when the fleeing driver sideswiped its back end.

Heads turned with the roar of the getaway as it weaved from side to side, darting around the normal traffic in the center of town; a few times riding the sidewalk as store patrons ran and dodged inside for safety. The piercing sirens converged; growing louder by the minute.

Thirty-five-year old, Georgina McMurray, had just purchased her monthly insulin at the CVS Pharmacy at the intersection of North Mill and Route 20. The alerts blared. Police cars, emergency ambulances, a fire truck, each with its own ominous cacophony, caused this small bedroom community to come to a complete halt. The Pharmacist rushed to prevent her from leaving the store. Wait! Something’s going on. Some sort of police activity. Hold up.

But I need to get over to Saint Maurice Middle School to pick up my two kids. I promised I would come for them today. It’s imperative that I catch them before they get on their bus.

At the principal’s office, Anslee Marvis received an emergency call to delay the students as the police attempted to blockade the intersection in the pursuit.

It failed.

Before the cops were in place with drawn weapons, the felons swerved, careened onto the far sidewalk around the vehicles and escaped. All three squads pursued.

Gab Reed, who lives at the corner of North Mill and Gibson, was backing out of the garage behind the house to take his wife to her obstetrician appointment. She was six and a half months pregnant. Hearing the tumult, he twisted around to see the Honda weaving and passing everyone. He yelled for her to stay inside. Estimating their speed to be eighty miles per hour or more, he feared for the life of an Amish family traveling in a buggy ambling down the left side. The fugitives curved close enough to scare the horse with the deafening noise of the gunned motor. The bearded driver went off the road into the field as the chase ensued.

Kenneth Emerson and his twenty-year-old son, Erik, were in their Vineyards near Sunset Drive, checking to see how ripened his crop was for late summer. Startled by the uproar of the pursuit with multiple sirens, they stood in the field with mouths open, not knowing whether to duck to the ground or run further among the grapes.

We are prepared at North Mill and Route 5. Should they manage to evade us, we have the New York border closed and alerts up and down Lake Road west into the city.

Two police cars were positioned in a V-shape, to block the intersection a half mile away. Officers shielded behind it with pointed guns.

The speeding auto veered left over the center line, flew across the open countryside at an angle. Dust and weeds trailing, creating a cloud of confusion. The vehicle went airborne for seconds, racing to circumspect the blockade.

"Oh, my God!"

No!

The several officers watched in horror.

The white Hyundai driving east up Lake Road failed to pay attention to the frantic activity up ahead in the middle of the highway.

The timing was ugly, but perfect!

Uncanny!

Fateful!

Deadly!

Fatal!

The crunching sound of metal into metal was deafening, heard for miles; the shattering of windows and headlights, torn bumpers and glass flying over the white strip, created one horrendous scene. With the impact, the Honda with the two criminals spun completely around heading in the opposite direction. The collision at its high speed threw the small Civic across both lanes. It landed upside down on its roof in the grass, breaking through the guardrail. One of the two perpetrators struggled to crawl out a smashed rear window as cops rushed to detain him on the ground.

On the opposite side of the road, the entire front of the Elantra burst into a gut wrenching inferno!

2

Wrapping the towel around his waist after his shower, Quentin hurried to their bedroom to dress. He was running behind. In an attempt to leave the office a little early that Friday afternoon, he was held up. His boss wanted answers on a pending project assigned to him.

Crossing atop the staircase, he heard Dana’s frustration at their plans being delayed to get to Freeport Beach before her folks made it down from Buffalo.

Alexander, I love you with all my heart but you sure are trying my patience today.

Her husband pulled his polo over his head as he entered the kitchen to see her kneeling on the floor cleaning up the puréed carrots and peas from the baby’s dish. Their fourteen-month-old had dumped it with a giggle and a devilish smile.

Mom called. They’re leaving the hotel in the rental car to drive over and meet us. That’s an hour’s trip. I would like to beat them there, set up the picnic lunch and my camera for photos. You know my mom, if they arrive before us, she will be upset to no end. I promised that I would do some portraits of her and dad with Alexander for their Christmas card this year. That might appease her.

Quentin smiled. Face it. Our quaint beach will not measure up or be her cup of tea compared to the attractive ones down in Florida. She’s always bent out of shape about something. Even if we get there early enough. Somehow or other, she will manage to bring up the subject, be it ever so foreign. Never has she forgiven us for moving north here to Erie instead of settling down near them in the Villages.

Let’s not hash this again. I couldn’t convince her that your engineering job was stable up here and most secure. My photography career was a hit and miss, not really a steady income. That’s just who she is. We are not going to change her. She feels left out of his life being the other grandma. Surely you can understand that with the distance from their one and only grandchild. So, while they’re here this week, let’s give them a pleasant visit. Bite your tongue. Please. For me. She kissed the tip of his nose.

He motioned for her to get ready. I’ll finish with Alex and feed him his pears. Calling, he interrupted her hustling upstairs. Are we taking the GMC or your car? If mine, I’ll need to switch his car seat.

The Elantra’s fine. I filled up this morning after grocery shopping, she shouted back.

The oft repeated conversation reminded Quentin of the constant, underlying tones in his relationship with his mother-in law. Dana was an only child. Mrs. Hamsley doted on her. When she studied digital media at the F.I.R.S.T Institute in Orlando, her mother was convinced their daughter would someday make a name for herself as a famed paparazzo for the stars or better yet, secure a renowned job at the White House, daily snapping impromptu depictions of the President for his or her legacy.

She treasured every time her daughter won a contest with one of her photos. Dana specialized in unique creations, either natural or man-made; achieved numerous awards to prove her enormous talent and artistic eye. Often, she featured sunsets in her collections. That was the major reason for the trip up north this August. She had won for a particular shot taken at Freeport Beach, a small unconventional but popular spot off Lake Road, a couple miles short of the New York border. It was known as most beaches along this side of Lake Erie for being super rocky. People would collect various shapes and sizes of stones to create figures along the beach. Earlier this summer, on July 4th, while there for a picnic and for Alex to enjoy the playground, she photographed someone’s sculpt of a bald eagle, the symbol of America’s freedom. Submitting it in a national contest that very month, she won the monetary prize. Hoping it was still there and intact, she wanted her folks to see it in person.

Marilyn and Lawrence Hamsley opted to fly to Buffalo and view Niagara Falls for the first time and then spend the week with her daughter’s family. Dana had the idea to have them drive from there and meet on the shore where she captured the awesome sandstone art.

It forever hung in the air, the resentment that Dana lived so far away and that Alex might not know them as well as his family. The aunts and uncles smothered their littlest nephew with lavish affection. The cousins were all pre-teens or older. Being, the youngest Marley, Quentin was the last of five to be born to Theresa and Edward. Three brothers and one sister. A lovable, fantastic, wonderful addition to you all, he often joked, not a mistake. There was at least eight years between him and the next brother. That was how he was named. Quentin meant the fifth. This overwhelming attention given to Alexander from his side of the relatives contributed to the veiled but sly remarks, subtly made when Marilyn visited.

It was Dana’s picture-taking that brought her and him together. While at the Institute, she supplemented her spending monies with a part time job at the Walt Disney World Resort. She worked in the Photo Sessions sector within the Magical Kingdom, photographing first time vacationers, weddings, anniversaries, mile-stone birthdays and the like. Quentin was down there with friends after his own college graduation, when he laid eyes on her, arranging a couple’s poses for their engagement photo-op. Goaded on by his buddies, he waited for the precise moment, walked up behind her and her tripod and whispered in a not so quiet a voice, That could be me down on one knee proposing to you someday if only you would let me buy you dinner while I’m in town.

Dana’s smirk mutated into curiosity when she twisted, captivated by his blue eyes and babyface. Oh, really! Would you care to repeat that even louder for everyone to laugh at you?

Facing her, made him stammer. That could be me –.

Never mind. We all heard you make an ass out of yourself the first time. In your dreams. Few caught her wide smile as she turned back.

For the next four days, Quentin stood behind her, a love-struck twenty-something, pierced by cupid’s arrow with her beauty, her soft features. Crafting a plethora of pick-up lines, each one more clownish than the one before, he cajoled and coaxed her to give him a chance. It worked. Dana laughed as he wore her down. They dined at the Be our Guest Restaurant in the Kingdom Park on her day off and his final night at the resort. Struck by her, he flew to Orlando a week later as a surprise and a second encounter. The following full year and a half was a long distance relationship as Quentin traveled south almost every weekend. They married twenty-two months from the date of "the dare."

Dana kept her photographic skills alive, doing freelance work for a travel agency about the sights in Erie, helped a fellow companion of Quentin’s oldest brother, who did weddings, when he was crushed with requests in the May-June time frame, and even took a one time contract to photograph recipes for a food magazine. However, her passion was oddities; that picture that would be a rare print if even taken by another. Freeport Beach, with its multitude of stones, offered countless examples of people’s clever ingenuity. Last month, while there, just the three of them, as Quentin threw pebbles into the lake with Alexander, she captured the shot that won her fifteen hundred dollars in the patriotic contest with the Veterans. She would show her