by Tom Fowler

Created on: August 16, 2008

The Short Wait

Entry in the diary of Harland Gofourth:

Thursday, March 26, 1987: As I write this I know I'll be gone when this is read. I'll be dead; dead by his hand or dead of fright. You probably have already noticed the shaky handwriting.

I did a little writing in high school, so I hope I can express myself properly. I'm awfully nervous. Keep that in mind.

You probably wonder why this is the first page of a new diary. It's simple. It's been many years since I felt the need to write my thoughts down. Now I'd better. I want it known what is about to happen to me.

Some years ago, I took money from the New States Pension Fund. You may be aware that the New States Driver's Union (NSDU) is strong in the east, with a membership of thirty thousand members. I was the treasurer of our local and, at that time, we maintained a balance of $250,000 in our account. Our president, Billy Friend, helped me transfer the bulk of this sum into a joint account with him, presumably to keep it in this account for only a few days until we could restructure our local's financial portfolio. You may not be familiar with this story here in Colorado, but it was big news in Trenton twenty years ago. Look it up. To make a long story short, he took the fall, and I took the money. The investigation uncovered many of Billy's other activities, and he was put away for a long time. Billy was released several months ago and that's when it started again.

If you're reading this then you know I lived by myself and was a paraplegic. Should have had a housekeeper but didn't. That's just as well. Wouldn't want anyone else involved in this. You've also noticed that this place sits way back from the road. Neighbors are good to check on me but I am very much alone here. I liked it that way until a few days ago.

They say that what goes around, comes around. That's sure true of my relationship with Billy Friend. I screwed him big time, and he's been paying interest on it ever since. Haven't been able to walk in fifteen years because one of Billy's drivers ran me down. Tried to kill me but crippled me instead. He doesn't know it but that's been punishment enough.

Eight years ago, Jane was robbed and beaten up in a grocery store parking lot. Being my wife took its toll on her, and she wasn't in robust health to start with. I'm certain the trauma contributed to the stroke that killed her a few weeks later. Billy knows I know. I helped beat a driver or two in my time, always robbing them first and usually in a parking

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