Chapter 25
David grabbed an early lunch at the Burger Thing at Dawson and 3rd. He was craving a veggie Walloper and a mango smoothie. He decided to eat inside when he saw the long line at the drive-thru window. Screw that! I’m not waiting in that line. That looks like twenty minutes, easy.
After ordering and receiving his food, he looked for an available table. He saw a two-seater in the corner. Perfect. Maybe I can eat and think in peace.
He sat down and began to chomp and slurp away. It was what he needed to quickly get his blood-sugar level up again. He wasn’t diabetic, but his doctor had warned him not to go too long between meals. He had fainted just two weeks ago while trying to fast for twenty-four hours, and nearly broke his nose.
Between bites, he noticed a discarded newspaper on the vacated table next to his. He swiped it. It was a copy of the Wilmington Star-News. Only the local section remained. He began to peruse it.
A murder on Wooster Street. A crack-cocaine bust near Greenfield Park. A three-car wreck on I-40 near Castle Hayne leaves two people dead. A man in Brunswick County is actively cultivating Venus flytraps in an attempt to save the rare species. The USS North Carolina Battleship’s lower hull may be rusting faster than originally thought.
Then he saw a follow-up story on the Charlotte couple who died in separate incidents last weekend at Carolina Beach. The small picture of the wrecked white Ford Focus on a barge arrested his eyes. There’s my lucky car – the focus of my life.
Charlotte Couple Dies at Carolina Beach
The couple from Charlotte who died in separate events last weekend were not staying together, authorities say. They were estranged. It is not known whether Mark van Buren and Susan van Buren even saw each other last weekend at Carolina Beach. To recap, Mark van Buren died when his rented car crashed and went off the Snow’s Cut Bridge early last Saturday morning. He still had his seat belt on when rescue divers removed his body from the Intracoastal Waterway. His blood-alcohol level was .03%, less than half the legal limit in North Carolina. His wife, Susan van Buren, died from an OxyContin overdose last Saturday afternoon, an apparent suicide. Investigators are still seeking more information. If you know anything about either of these incidents, please contact the Carolina Beach Police Department.
Wow, so that’s whose gold it was – Mark van Buren. Did he find those golden boomerangs on Carolina Beach? I didn’t know that any raw gold was ever found in that sand. Damn, he had it made; dude had it in his trunk, neatly concealed under the spare tire. What the hell went wrong? Was he being chased? Was he nudged off the bridge? But, the right and rear sides of the car have no dents. Why in the hell does he decide to go flying off a humpback bridge just before dawn on a Saturday morning? Was he up all night partying? Was he high on psychoactive drugs? Was he hallucinating? Was it the gold curse? Ha-ha. And, his estranged wife is down there, yet they never see each other. What? If your marriage is on the rocks and getting ready to sink, why go to the same beach? Or, if it was a last attempt to save the marriage, why go in separate cars? And stay in separate motels? Very weird. Maybe he was spying on her? Maybe he was building a divorce case. It’s still way too freaking weird. Hmmm, I wonder if they have fixed that bridge yet.
David slid his tray’s trash into the waste receptacle. He walked outside and looked at the directional sign for Carolina Beach. Well, I’ve got some time to kill. Let’s go look at that confounded bridge.
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Traffic was already fairly steady at noon as David began to ascend the northern flank of the Snow’s Cut Bridge. He tried to go a little slower than the speed limit in order to get a better look at the concrete railing on the right, but the yellow Dodge Dart behind him started to tailgate. Damn, always some fly on your ass at the worst possible moment.
When he was almost at the top of the bridge, he saw where Mark’s dream ended. There was a ten-foot section of new concrete railing; it was much lighter and whiter than the older concrete around it. The impact must have killed him. Lucky for you, Mark; you didn’t drown, bro. You’d have to be flying to take out a concrete railing like that with a little lightweight car like a Ford Focus. Damn, how fast was he going? 75 MPH? It was a good guess.
David continued over the bridge and made a right turn at the Lewis Drive traffic light. He then made a right turn onto Bridge Barrier Road, passing behind the strip mall. He drove down this road all the way to the end and parked. He walked over a mound of sand, and proceeded down a little footpath to the southern bank of Snow’s Cut, the wide canal that cut through the sand dunes, creating Pleasure Island.
He looked up at the bridge towering overhead. Then he looked down at the water. The northern bridge-pier protector had a vertical scrape on its wood planking. Wow, is that the exact spot where Mark’s car sank? Is that the spot? Right there?
David sat down on a thick log on the top of the channel bank. Someone must have set this log up for long hours of fishing.
He was about twenty-five feet above the shimmering water’s surface. It was a nice view. Boats, motor yachts, sailboats, and noisy jet-skis were passing in both directions. It was already a busy day on the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway.
He then noticed that many live oak trees were in the process of falling into Snow’s Cut, due to erosional undercutting. Mother Nature is always trying to level the playing field. Always trying to flatten the land and fill in the holes, creases and valleys. I bet they have to dredge this channel yearly. His estimate was almost correct.
He stayed down there for a few minutes reflecting on what had happened to Mark, and how one’s life can change – or even cease – in an instant. When you’ve got it made is when you really can’t let your guard down. You can’t get cocky and act foolish. That’s where Mark screwed up. That’s the lesson I’m going to take away from this.
He walked back to his car, passing a fisherman on the way. “The seat’s all yours.”
The nearly toothless, older, ball-capped fisherman just grinned and continued on his way with two fishing rods and an old, army-green, metal tackle box.
David decided to head back to Wilmington, where his gold was waiting. When he was at the top of the Snow’s Cut Bridge, he saw the skid marks. They went from his lane – the right northbound lane – all the way over to the new section of concrete on the left side of the bridge. Wow, he crossed three lanes. Did his left front tire blow out? But, this would have been mentioned in the news article. Wait, I just saw the left front tire; it wasn’t blown out. I wonder what his last thought was. ‘Damn, I blew it’? Tough break, Mark. You had it, bro. You fumbled the football at the goal line. I’m running with it now. And, I’m going to score.
David continued driving north up US 421. He began to feel a little thirsty. Then he thought about getting some drinks and snacks for the hotel room, as he knew it had a small refrigerator and a microwave. I’ll get some popcorn, pretzels, chips, soda, beer … and condoms. A man should always be prepared.
He stopped at the Super Wally World in Monkey Junction. It was blistering hot. Damn, it’s torrid today. I wonder if torrid has two r’s or one.