Tears of the Cliff

     Bill Wilson's car broke down on a lonely stretch of Rt. 96A on the east side of Seneca Lake. He was driving to a summer cottage that he and a couple of friends had rented together for the week. Bill was the only one of the bunch that had to work that day and had gotten a late evening start. He had never hitch hiked before, but as he heard a car approach behind him, he looked back and could see a police cruiser pass under a street light in the distance. Thinking that if the police couldn't provide a safe ride, no one could, he broke his own rule and stuck out his thumb...

     The State Police cruiser slowed and came to a stop next to him. He reached for the passenger door and opened it.

     "It's kind of late to be out walking isn't it?" said the officer.

     "It's not exactly what I had planned," Bill said. "My car broke down a couple of miles back."

     "The old black Plymouth?"

     "Yup, that's the one. I think it's the alternator, the lights kept getting dimmer and finally, it stalled out."

     "Where you headed?"

     "Me and some buddies rented a cottage for the week down between Valois and Hector. I was on my way there."

     "Damn. You got a long way to go yet pal. Better hop in. Can't have a citizen wandering around in the dark on a deserted highway now can we?"

     Bill got in the police car and they took off down the road.

     "Mind if I smoke?" asked Bill.

     "I don't mind at all, but the department does. I smoke like a chimney myself, but not in the car."

     "Cigarette nazi's."

     "Sure enough. There's Sampson State Park. You ever been there?"

     "Nope. We used to have family picnics in Watkins Glen at Clute Park and another park up in Ithaca."

     "Enfield Glen?" asked the State Trooper.

     "That's the place."

     The two continued idle conversation as they sped along the highway. Bill heard brief crackles of communication coming from the police radio though they were hard to understand, it was turned down so low. He thought it strange that the officer didn't seem at all interested in the radio traffic. Between snippets of conversation with the Trooper, Bill thought he heard something on the radio about Willard, the State run Asylum for the Insane. At one time, it was the largest of it's kind in the United States.

     Willard was practically right next to Sampson State Park, and they were only a few miles away from it.

     "Did they just say something about Willard on the radio?" asked Bill.

     "What?" yelled the State Trooper. He reached over and turned the police radio down even further. "I couldn't hear you with all that racket going on. There's just to much noise in the world today, know what I mean?"

     Bill was taken a bit by surprise by the Troopers reaction. A feeling of unease drifted over him. The original thought of safety he felt when the police car picked him up was slowly fading. It only got worse when the officer suddenly reached into his shirt pocket, got a cigarette and lit it.

     "I thought you couldn't smoke in the car?" Bill said without even thinking.

     "I can't? Who says I can't?" replied the Trooper.

     "I asked a minute ago and you said something about regulations..."

     "Ah! Well that explains it then!" said the Trooper laughing. "I don't give a shit about regulations. They don't apply to me. Besides, I never said that."

     "You didn't?"

     "No I didn't."

     Unexpectedly, the Trooper slammed on his brakes and veered to the side of the road, sliding to a stop.

     "I've gotta piss. I'll be right back. Don't touch anything citizen!" He got out of the car and went to the edge of the road.

     Bill was at a total loss as to what was going on. The Trooper was acting weird as hell. With the cruiser sitting at an idle on the side of the pavement, the road noise no longer obscured the sound of the radio. He leaned forward and listened...

     "...on the lookout for... Willard... armed and dangerous... last seen..."

     He couldn't make it all out. He was just reaching for the volume knob when the door opened and the Trooper got back in the car, scaring the shit out of him.

     "Hey citizen! You weren't going to touch that radio were you?" said the Trooper.

     "No! I mean I was just... well I thought I heard them say something about Willard again and..."

     "Did you now? Well let’s just turn it up a notch and see!" And with that, the Trooper reached over and gave the radio volume knob a violent twist.

     An unbearable, screeching static filled the air. When a voice did come through, it was so distorted from the extreme volume that it couldn't possibly be understood.

     "How's that citizen?" yelled the Trooper. "You hear anything about Willard now?"

     "What? I can't hear you!" Bill was stunned by the actions of the Trooper. He stared in fascination as the mans behavior became more and more erratic. The Trooper spun the volume knob again so it was off.

     "Can you hear me now?" he whispered.

     Before Bill could answer, the Trooper spun the knob again to half volume.

     "How about now?" chuckled the man.

     In a sudden move that had Bill reaching for the door handle, the Trooper pulled out his service revolver and fired a shot into the radio. The blast from the gun was deafening in the enclosed area of the police cruiser. Sparks flew from underneath the dashboard and the pungent smell of burning wires filled the air.

     The Trooper blew away the smoke drifting from the end of his gun barrel, just like they do in westerns and said, "How about now Citizen?"

     Bill's hand was still on the door handle. In his heightened perception of anxiety, he now noticed a few things he had failed to see before, having been so grateful for the ride. He noticed the Troopers hair was a little long, unlike the short cropped hair he was used to seeing on police. He wasn't wearing a tie, and over all, his cloths seemed a bit to tight like they didn't quite fit.

     "Uh, you know what?" said Bill. "It's such a nice night out, I think I would just as soon walk if it's all the same to you."

     "No, I'm afraid I can't let you do that. You see, it is our duty to protect the citizens, to serve the citizens, and to kill if we have to."

     Bill didn't move.

     "I mean we have to kill to protect ourselves of course." continued the Trooper. "Besides, you wouldn't want to be let out right in front of Willard would you? There's some dangerous, bad ass people in there you know. You never know when one might escape. And another thing, your door handle is broken."

     "No it's not." said Bill, looking down to check it. He looked back up just in time to pull his hand out of the way before the Trooper shot the door handle clean off the door.

     "Yes, it is!"

     Bill's mind was racing. He was stuck in a car with a madman. It didn't take much reasoning to piece it together. This man must have somehow over powered the real State Trooper and stole his cloths and the cruiser. It must have something to do with the warning on the radio about Willard, someone had escaped!

     The man slammed the car into gear and took off again. Bill sat as far away as he could, fearing that anything he did might set the lunatic off. They had just passed the entrance to Willard and were rounding a curve when Bill saw something on the side of the road.

     "What's that?" he said, pointing through the windshield. "Oh hell! It's a body!"

     "No shit? Where?" asked the man. "Never mind, I see it! Son of a bitch! He must have nine lives! I thought I got him the first time!"

     As they sped closer, Bill saw that the man crawling out of the ditch wore only a tee shirt and underpants. It must be the real State Trooper! The car swerved to the edge of the pavement and sped up. Bill suddenly realized what the driver was going to do.

     "No! You crazy bastard! What the hell are you doing?" yelled Bill.

     The man instantly jerked his head around to look at Bill.

     "What did you just call me?"

     "I... Look where the hell you're going! You're going to kill us!" Bill was clutching the dashboard. The driver wasn't even looking where he was going, he was still staring at Bill. At the last second, just before they would have run over the injured man, Bill reached over and jerked the wheel back towards the center of the road, missing the body by inches. The car screeched to a stop.

     The man was still staring at Bill.

     "First of all citizen, I am not a bastard, and am truly offended by your insinuation. I know both of my parents, and they are legally married. Secondly, I am the one with the gun. See?" and the man waved it at him. "If I were you, being unarmed and such, I wouldn't go around accusing someone else of being crazy! As a matter of fact, I would think that you would be the one considered crazy for accusing a man holding a gun on you of being crazy. Kind of risky, don't you think?"

     "Yes." said Bill dejectedly.

     "Now, I was nice enough to stop and give you a lift wasn't I?"

     "Yes."

     "Ok then. I am the one driving. Don't touch the steering wheel again or I'll kill you. Now why don't you go ahead and light a cigarette, I know you need one. I know you want one."

     Bill didn't really want a smoke right then, but he went to light one anyway. His hand was shaking so badly, he couldn't get it lit.

     "Here, let me get that for you citizen." The man reached over and lit the cigarette for Bill. Then he lit one for himself.

     They were still sitting in the middle of the road, the two of them smoking in silence. Bill wondered how someone could seem so rational one minute, and crazy as a loon the next.

     "Shit!" said the driver, tossing his smoke out the window.

     "What's wrong?" asked Bill.

     "I almost forgot!" he said. He tossed the shift lever into reverse and gunned the engine. He twisted around in his seat looking out the rear window and steered the car over towards the ditch where the injured State Trooper still laid. A sickening thump, thump sound came from underneath the tires. He quickly threw the car back in drive and drove forward with less obvious results. It was more of a squishing sound this time. He steered back onto the road and drove away.

     Bill thought he was going to be sick. "Oh shit! You ran over him! You killed him!"

     "Yeah, I did. I didn't much care for him. He was feeding me all this happy horseshit about how they would take care of me, and everything was going to be all right and how he only wanted to help. Well they take care of us for sure. Most of the time, I'm so pumped full of drugs, I can't even wipe my own ass or feed myself. I spit out the garbage they call food and they have one of those big sons a bitches in whites come and shove it down my throat. Do you like Spinach citizen?"

     "No. I hate it"

     "Well that's what I'm talking about. Ninety percent of us hate it and they know it. It makes half of them old farts in the crazy house gag and puke. And you don't think the orderlies clean that shit up do you?"

     "So you killed a cop because they make you eat spinach?"

     "That wasn't no damn cop. Not in my book. I seen the ones he brought back. I talked to them. He catches the ones that get loose and takes them in for 'interrogation' even though he knows where they come from. He's a sadistic piece of shit, gets his kicks out of shoving broom handles up their asses and tossing them in jail with a bunch of boy hungry freaks for a nights worth of entertainment."

      They turned right off of 96A and onto 414 South out of Ovid. Bill didn't know what to say. The man acted insane for sure, but he didn't sound like a nut case.

     "Don't act so surprised citizen. I seen a dozen others like that dead cop back there. The worst of them are inside the walls with us. They butt cigarettes in your coffee and make you drink it. They spit in your food thinking you're so doped up you won't notice. And when you do notice, and refuse to eat it, they won't feed you for a week. They make faces behind your back for Christ sake! You're doped up on drugs for six months at a time so you can't even fart and they declare you cured. I ain't going back."

     "What are you going to do?" asked Bill.

     "I had a dream." He said. "I was standing in the middle of the lake, looking up on the side of the hill. The full moon was shining bright, reflecting off the glassy smooth water. I could see acres and acres of grape vines, the fruit exploding from their branches forming red rivers of blood that poured like tears from the cliff. I'm going to paint me a picture."

     They drove on in silence for the next ten minutes. Bill wondered what the man was going to do to him, and he didn't have a clue on what the mans dream was about. He didn't dare ask. They were just going through the town of Valois and the turn to go down to the cottage he was renting was fast approaching.

     "The uh... turn, the turn is coming up," said bill.

     "What turn?" said the man.

     "The turn off to the cottage where I was headed when my car broke down. It's right up there on the right after the fruit stand."

     "Yeah, I remember."

     "You can just let me off at the top of the road, I can walk down."

     "Sure, ok," he replied.

     "What?" Bill asked in surprise.

     "What, what?" said the man, looking at him.

     "I mean, you will drop me off?" Bill couldn't believe he was actually going to do it.

     "Well it's what you want isn't it?"

     "Well yeah, I just thought..."

     "Everyone gets what they want sooner or later. I'm getting what I want." He pulled to the side of the road right in front of the turn off for the cottages and stopped. "How about you? You want to get out right?"

     "Yes." Bill said in a trembling voice. He still thought he was going to die.

     "Well go ahead, get out!"

     Bill reached for the door handle, but it wasn't there of course. He looked back at the man and said, "I can't, you blew the handle off!"

     The man looked at the broken handle, then looked at his gun, then looked up at Bill. He lifted the gun, aimed it and fired. The window shattered into a thousand pieces.

     "There you go! Now you can reach out and open it from the outside handle."

     Bill had about pissed his pants. He cowered when he saw the guy aiming his gun, he thought the bullet was for him.

     "Jesus Christ! Are you..." he almost said crazy, but he caught himself in time. "I could have rolled the window down you know!"

     "Yeah," said the man, "but my way was quicker. Now get the fuck out!"

     And he did. He clawed for the outside handle and had the door open in seconds. He was finally free. He started to walk away.

     "Hey! Come back here!" yelled the man.

     Bill stopped dead in his tracks. He could feel the gun pointed at his back and felt he had no choice. He slowly turned.

     "How about shutting the door dumb ass? You want me driving around with the door open? It might hit some old lady crossing the street or something. Imagine how bad you would feel about that?"

     He walked back and shut the door. He turned to leave again but before he could even take a step the guy yelled to him again.

     "Wait! Turn back around."

     Bill didn't think he could take much more of this, his heart was about leaping out of his chest as it was. He turned around and ducked his head down to look in the broken window.

     "Got a smoke?" the escapee asked.

     Bill gave him one.

     "Got a light?

     Bill tried to light his cigarette but his hand was still shaking pretty bad. The man grabbed his arm in a vise like grip to steady it. 'This is it' thought Bill, now he blows my face off.

     But he didn't. The guy winked at him and released his arm. He took a few cautious steps backwards. He slowly turned and started walking again. He looked back one last time and saw the man in the car, just sitting there, smoking.

     Bill was just starting to relax. The cool evening air was refreshing and the long walk down to the cottages helped clear his mind. Then he heard the car coming. He couldn't believe it, the guy was coming for him after all! He looked back and he could see the headlights bouncing along the dirt road. And then the strangest thing happened.

     The car looked like it spun out of control. It veered to the right into the field of grapes, mowing down row after row of the neatly sculptured vines. Then it went to the left and did the same thing. It crisscrossed back and forth across the road, spinning it's tires and tossing up clumps of dirt and roots. As it drew closer Bill could see huge, ripe bunches of grapes exploding off the fenders of the big State Police cruiser. The car was drenched in deep red juice, the wipers barely able to fight off the onslaught.

     To Bills amazement, the car continued right on past him, threading it's way back and forth like a spinner weaving a crooked basket. An almost overpowering smell of crushed grapes permeated the air. As the car neared the edge of the cliff at the bottom of the field, he saw it make a ninety degree turn directly towards the lake. The crazy bastard gunned the engine and the car leapt off the cliff, did a one half flip and landed on it's roof with the headlights aimed back towards shore. Bill watched as the headlights sunk out of sight.

     He looked back at the devastated grape field. There was a trickle of red running in tiny rivulets around the rows of vines. It gathered into a small stream at the bottom of the hill and cascaded from the cliff edge into the black waters of Seneca Lake. He could swear there was a red mist in the air that sparkled in the bright moon light. The guy had made his picture, he had made his dream come true. That's more than a lot of people could say. To bad he didn't live to see it.

     Bill figured that with all the noise that someone would call the police. He figured he would go down to the cottage and check in with his friends, then he would come back up and explain what had happened.

     He was making the last turn in the road just before Cottage Lane when he heard someone come up behind him. He spun around. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the escaped man from Willard standing before him.

     "Hey citizen! Got a smoke?"

     "How in the hell? I just saw you drive off the damn cliff!" stammered Bill.

     "Nah! Hell no! I couldn't very well see the beautiful picture I made if I was dead now could I? Hey!"

     "What?" asked Bill cautiously.

     "You don't have a boat down there at the cottage do you? How about we go for a little boat ride, want to?"