Got 'Em Read online

  The gentleman replies, “Sure thing, and oh, I can see you three are going to get up to no good tonight?”

  Andrew replies, “Ahh, it’s not what it seems man.”

  The gentleman replies, sarcastically laughing, “Yeah, you all say, ‘it’s not what it seems,’ don’t you?” As he giggles in a creepy manner. We make our way up the stairs to room 106 where we could lay our heads down in peace and try to get a good night’s rest before tomorrow.

  I think doubtingly, I wonder what tomorrow is going to bring.

  Morning comes around, I wake up feeling like a zombie, or maybe someone who just doesn’t want to deal with the day. I mean, to get bad news about someone can and will weigh quite heavy—but enough mental torture about that. You can smell the strong scent of burning trees, which has made its way through the small vents in the room. Amanda and Andrew awake, and are instantly craving a large cup of strong coffee. As I am already at the little kitchenette part of the room, I think it would be a nice gesture to make them both a strong coffee before we hit the road.

  I turn to go and grab the milk out of the fridge, which is near the main door of the room when I notice a green envelope on the floor that wasn’t there last night or before I started making the coffees. I bend down to pick it up and start ripping it open as Andrew and Amanda speak at the same time saying two different things. Amanda says inquisitively, “What’s that? Is that for me?” as she shuffles her way to the end of the bed.

  Andrew says in a zombie like voice, “Where’s my coffee?” as he sits up looking just like I did.

  Replying to the both of them, although I don’t know how I understood both of their replies, “I don’t know what it is or who it is from. Hey, yeah, your coffees are comin’, just got to pour the milk in.”

  Amanda and Andrew reply at the same time, “Okay…”

  As Andrew continues, “Hurry up!”

  Pouring the milk in, I stir the coffees and bring them to the table. Amanda and Andrew both get up to sit around the table as I open the green envelope to pull out a slit of white paper that says, “To my beautiful, you don’t know who I am, but I’d like to see more of you, if you know what I mean.”

  I savagely rip the paper in two, get up and throw it in the bin, grumbling angrily, “It’s probably that sick fuck from downstairs behind the desk. He won’t want to lay a hand on you or I’ll break it!”

  Amanda replies suggestively, “How do you know it is for me? It could’ve been towards any one of you two; it could’ve been a man; it could’ve been a woman. Who knows, it could’ve been for someone else, so just leave it.”

  I shout back, “Why?”

  Amanda calmly states, “David, we don’t want any trouble, you got me? No trouble.”

  I reply, “Yeah, yeah, we’ll see.”

  It is time for us to pack up and leave, so we set off down the stairs and back to the service desk to hand back the keys. Luckily, the bloke that served us last night isn’t here or on shift. We deal with a lady; she asks, “How was your stay with us? I hope you enjoyed it.”

  Andrew replies, “It was good, thank you,” as he hands the key back to the lady.

  She then asks, “So, where are you guys from?”

  Amanda replies, “Uh, we’re from Sydney.”

  The lady inquisitively asked, “Okay, so where are you guys heading to?”

  Andrew and I say simultaneously, “We are heading to Falconbridge.”

  The lady’s facial expression changed to concern whilst saying, “Well, I hope you enjoyed your stay, safe travels and be careful out with those fires.”

  We walked out the main doors as the lady watched us exit, then headed for the Commy. I hadn’t told Andrew yet, but I am in love with his Commodore. Beautiful eight cylinders with just everything you need. Opening the passenger front door, I get in, pulling my seatbelt over myself and into the buckle. Amanda and Andrew both hop in at the same time and do the same. Andrew starts up the beast, then gives it its morning rev. Andrew is good to this car, he lets her warm up before he drives it, gets his regular services, and at work, he just does not shut up about it.

  After five minutes of sitting in silence, Andrew puts his clutch in, puts it in reverse and starts to take off, then into first gear and off we go out the driveway of the Ibis hotel. It wasn’t a bad stay, apart from that imbecile and his sexual remarks.

  After turning right out of the driveway, about five minutes down the road towards Falconbridge, Amanda sits thinking about that damn letter that was slipped under the door. In fact, she is quite worried about it. Amanda says pessimistically, “Hey guys, what if that letter we got under the hotel door meant something. I mean, it’s really bothering me now. What if we get stalked or something?”

  I ambivalently turn back to Amanda, “I don’t think so. I think you are silly for even thinking that, honestly.”

  Amanda gives off a cold stare to me sarcastically, “Oh, hi! I’m Amanda, and I’m sorry for throwing my feelings out there about something that’s bothering me,” then she stuck her middle finger up, “So fuck you, David, and thank you for listening.”

  Also sharing my sarcasm, noting out, “I think someone’s getting their monthlies.”

  “Fuck off, David,” Amanda replies.

  Amanda and I keep arguing absurdly, as Andrew starts giggling away, which soon turns into a laugh that got louder, Amanda indignantly responds to Andrew’s laugh, “What’s so funny? What, you thought this is a joke?”

  Andrew looks in the rear view mirror at Amanda and says in a direct voice, “I’m laughing because you guys are arguing about something so small and so stupid. I mean, look at where you are—”

  Amanda cuts Andrew off, “You don’t have a say here! So shut up!”

  Andrew still talking through her words, “In a car with people you know, well, at least one that you know and trust, so stop thinking irrationally.”

  Amanda, jumping to conclusions, accuses Andrew of placing the letter there in spite to starting something. “I bet it was you who placed that letter there, huh?” There is a brief pause, “Yeah, that’s right, nothing to say to that, hey? You fucking idiot.” Andrew blatantly ignores Amanda’s accusation.

  After a little bit of driving, we end up back in Valley Heights, where we were forcefully convinced to turn around before. State emergency services were still there guiding traffic, which is good as traffic is being allowed through now. You could see though, that the fires were still blazing up high. They just weren’t near the road anymore, and they were cleared up. The lot of us continue looking around at everything that had been burnt; the ash is everywhere and falling slowly from the sky. It is a very intense, dark and sad moment to see everything, once with beautiful colours of green and yellow and white and brown, turn into black and grey so quickly.

  Traffic is going slow as we are being guided through this tragic event. There are so many people everywhere fighting this vicious fire that has made such a huge impact. Amanda pops up after glancing around and states sadly, “Oh my, look at that, I feel so sorry for them.” As we see a home that is ravished and completely destroyed, with the police and ambulance out the front, it hits me, What if something really bad did happen? How would I feel? What would I do? But I’m keeping in mind the good, not the evil—that nothing has happened. Nope, I will not think like that.

  A good while of driving finally leads us into the once beautiful town of Falconbridge, now with ambers and ash flying around, it honestly looks like a ghost town. As we get close to the turn off, I notice the primary school on the right, which has also been affected by this fire. It’s purely amazing how something that eats away at anything, jumps, or should I say flies, across roads and rivers with a little bit of wind and starts a new spawn.

  Andrew asks, “Uh, Dave, where do we turn?”

  I reply, “Just here, coming up where the primary school is. It’s called Grose Road.”

  Andrew takes precaution and says, “Is this it here? I can barely see with all the ash fl
ying around.”

  I reply, “Yeah man, this is it.”

  From what looks like a beautiful partially cloudy day, turned out very differently here. The sky is covered in thick, black smoke; thick ash is slowly dropping everywhere, like when it’s heavily snowing, but only its ash. As we turn onto Grose Road, it honestly looks like we are driving into a different dimension; my heart is pounding so hard.

  Not being able to do the speed limit, as emergency services were still guiding us, I began to become anxious, telling Andrew, “Hurry up, let’s go, come on.” I wind down the window, expecting a cool kind of breeze from being up in the mountains and all, but nope, it is a fairly warm breeze with a sharp, hot edge to it, like when you stand too close to a fire. I yelled out, “Hurry up! I need to be somewhere!”

  Andrew yelled angrily at me, “Put the fuckin’ window up, I don’t want hot ash in here man! You know how much I love this car.”

  I reply apologetically, “Sorry, man,” then wind up the window straight away, “I just want to get up there, man, I just want to make sure everything is okay.”

  Fifteen minutes pass by, emergency services are still everywhere. As we come to a corner going around to the left, I see the house up there on the right of the bend. The ashes that led up to what once used to be a beautiful house, now has red and blue lights lingering around it. My heart drops. I bluntly speak to Andrew, “Pull over here, man, please.” Andrew pulls over, we get out of the car; everything goes into a ‘still moment’ as an emergency service officer approaches and asks what we are doing here.

  I ask him, “Is anyone alive in that house?”

  He replies regretfully, “We managed to save some parts of the house. Unfortunately, if you’re a relative of, or family to Russel Gritford, I’m sorry for your loss. He is a well-loved man.”

  I can’t take it, it feels like I am having a heart attack; my body has become weak, everything is blanked out, the world I know is falling apart before me. I take another look up at the house, so many memories already running through my mind. I drop to my knees and vomit, then burst into tears. Shaking my head, I scream out in agony, “No! No! You are lying!” I clench my hand up against my chest. Something big has been taken from me!

  About ten minutes go by, the same emergency service man asks, “I don’t mean to pry, but is this man a relative of yours?”

  I nod my head, and persist to speak in a destroyed manner, “Yes, he is my grandfather.”

  The service man then asks me, “You wouldn’t be David Gritford, would you?”

  I reply, “Yeah, I am,” as I look at him insightfully.

  The serviceman then says, “Okay, I’m going to need you to come with me. I know it’s a bad time, but there’s a lot to discuss.” I get up, to follow the man across the road.

  Chapter Two

  Who I Was

  Hi, my name is David Gritford, I’m twenty-five years old, five-foot-nine, with an average toned body, lightly tanned skin, light brown eyes, and of Scottish-Australian decent. I go to the gym three days a week and I am an architect, and have been for the last six years. I lead in design for structural business buildings; I also work in the ‘Security and Defences committee’ of my job as well. I am an only child, who lost his mother and father at three years of age in a car accident. My grandfather took care of me and raised me as his own. I moved out at 20 to 104 Portland Lane, Ashfield, NSW.

  I cross the road with the service man in silence, as I don’t know what to think or what to do. I don’t even know if I should believe this is real. In all honesty, it feels like a very bad dream—one I just did not want to happen. We cross through the broken fence of the property opposite Andrew’s car, where I crossed the road. Through the thick, burnt grass of my grandfather’s property, we are led up to his house, where the remains of his body are in a body bag. I catch a glimpse of him as they zip it up, put him in the back and take him away. Seeing all that confirmed it. Pop is dead (Death on Thursday, 19 October 2017).

  The service man gives me a little longer, as he can understand what I have just seen. He invites me to sit down with him whilst he lights a cigarette. He then offers me one. With how I am feeling, I’m not going to deny it. I took a damn cigarette and damn well smoked it too! The service man introduces himself to me, “Name’s Felrose, but the ladies call me Spunky boy.”

  Not in the mood, I merely reply, “Hey, you already know who I am, so what’s there to talk about?”

  Felrose responds, “Well you see—” taking another drag of his cigarette, “Your grandfather left a security box, or better known as a safe.”

  I reply, “Yeah?”

  Felrose continues, “In the safe are obviously his cherished belongings, alongside a will. In that will, it states to leave his entire empire, house, money, savings and all belonging in his name to one ‘Mr David Gritford’.”

  I reply, surprised, “Oh, okay, I wasn’t expecting anything—only to see him alive.”

  We both finish smoking our cigarettes as we get up, and Felrose continues, saying, “We do have a lot to talk about and organise for you, as the entire empire is left to you. So I’m going to organise a lawyer to assist with the will and get everything changed over to you. Now, because the fire took a possession and the possession is insured, unfortunately we can’t just rebuild, because it is your grandfather’s house.” I fell in silence, looking around confused and shocked, as Felrose continues, “So the insurance will pay out with the help of the lawyer, and all money and values will be posted to you, or we can arrange for it to go into any one of your selected accounts.”

  I reply with nothing else to say other than, “Okay.”

  Felrose still continues on, “So I’ll organise everything for you, and we will talk more after the funeral.”

  Felrose walks me back to the car. As we get to the car, he says, as I hop into the back—because I wanted to be alone—“Everything of your grandfather’s is with the police for safety purposes. It has been taken back to Blackheath, you have the right to access it at any given time, but cannot take ownership of it for, I think, twenty-four hours or maybe forty-eight.”

  Feeling helplessly annoyed I looks up at Felrose before saying, “Okay, I’m going home. Cheers mate.”

  I close the passenger door. Andrew performs a U-turn and begins heading back. We all sit in silence for the most part of the way home. Amanda mentions to me, whilst comforting me, “That old man meant everything to you. Even when you were having all those parties. I swear you got laid by five different women that night! Ha, ha!”

  I grumbled, “Yup, all those memories seem like nothing right now.”

  The emptiness surrounds me, and it feels like it is me and only me in this world of pain, that no one understands what I am feeling, no one can ever feel what I am feeling. But to everyone that has felt this way, I finally know how they feel, now that I’m feeling it for the first time as an adult, but in its own way—it’s a little different.

  After having a surprisingly good night’s sleep, I call up my boss and the following conversation unravels; “Hey mate, what’s up?” he says in a questioning tone.

  I propped myself up like nothing is affecting me and state in a cheerful monotone, “Hey man, I would like to take a few days off as I have lost my grandfather who, as you know, was like both parents to me.”

  He replies in his chatty voice, “Dave, Dave, David. Take as many days as you need to, you’re a good man of mine, and I’ll see you when you’re ready.” Thanking him, I have a feeling of shock as the call comes to an end. I drift off into my room, grab some clean clothes, and go out to Amanda, who just pulled into the driveway after dropping her boyfriend of five years off to work. She got to have the car for the day. Thank the saviour for that.

  Opening the passenger door, I plonked into the passenger seat, before saying to Amanda benevolently, “I know a beautiful place not far from here, where we can hold my grandfather’s funeral. I’ll take you to it.”

  Amanda replies respectively
, in her kind voice, “Oh, okay. Where is it, babes?”

  I reply, “Do you know where Leppington is?”

  Amanda replies candidly, “I can’t say I do… no.”

  I reply solemnly, “Okay, do you know where Austral is?”

  Amanda replies in an excited tone, “Yeah! I used to play soccer at the oval.”

  I reply in a direct monotone, “Okay sweet, well it’s just around the corner from there.”

  We start to drive, heading towards Leppington, reminiscing of how precious my grandfather is to me, even through all the bad times, I could still come home to a roof over my head and three set meals a day. Cutting our way through Sydney, listening along to the radio, an updated report came through on the mountain fires in a direct, serious tone, “After three strenuous days of blazing fires, lost homes and a great loss of lives due to the contempt of fires, the fire fighters and state emergency services now have it under control. We wish those who have lost their homes or relatives and close friends the deepest sympathy. Now for the weather—” Amanda turns the radio down as a tear is brought to my eyes. I nod my head, and say gracefully, “He lived a good life.” Amanda puts her hand on my leg, with some tears forming in her eyes as well.

  After an hour or so of driving, we reach Leppington funeral home and services. Turning left from the main road, we enter the funeral home, find a parking spot and park up. Hopping out, we turn to look at the place and feel really awkward and heart torn. The realness of walking into this place sets in mind that, the person has passed, and it’s real.

  So, we speak to the receptionist, and go in for our appointment to organise the funeral. My grandfather always said to me in his deepest, most serious tone, “Don’t you dare burn me! I came from mother earth, give me back to her.” So, it is definite that he is to be buried. After the arrangements are made, the funeral is planned next week, in three days’ time, Monday, 23 October 2017. Today, feels like the worst day ever so far. My bucket’s empty, if you catch my drift. The lifeless depression has started to eat at my very soul, and the funeral is just going to confirm that. I and Amanda head to the car and think to go for a drive, as home, to either of us, just does not look appealing at this time. Along the drive, we think to share some happy memories of what life was like with Pop. Then come up to a very strange question, a question I have no belief in and have never asked, “Hey, Mandy, this is going to sound strange comin’ from me, but do you reckon I could make contact with Pop through an Ouija board?”