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Homesick
For his part, Barry, until recently an outsider, found this new place to be a paradise. There was no more Walmart nor Seattle madness. His life in retirement would now revolve around his new home in Rabbit Creek.
“It looks small, but not so small that you can't have a party,” Jules joked rubbing his hands together just after parking in front of the house his friend Barry had bought.
“No more of that turning upside down way, Jules. I came here to get my life together,” replied Barry who was starting to unpack things from Jules' truck.
“You're not going to make enough with what you saved to fix it up completely, buddy,” Jules commented.
“I'm going to the Yukon to collect some gold one day,” Barry said.
They both stared at each other for a moment and burst out laughing.
After half an hour, Barry's entire material life lay inside his lastest birthday present: house #13, White Street, Rabbit Creek, Alaska.
“Thanks, buddy, I'll let you know when everything is ready here for you to come visit me,” Barry commented after shaking hands with his friend.
“You better! You can still call me if you need anything,” Jules said goodbye before driving off in his truck.
House #13 on White Street was small in size, but had two stories, which provided a nice view of both the locals and the surrounding landscape.
Although Barry had already visited this house when he completed the purchase with its former owner, he had not had the opportunity to snoop around with ease. He found out that it even had a basement.
He couldn't evade his natural curiosity, and with a flashlight he wandered into this new space. Barry pointed left and right trying to form a complete picture of the basement.
Plastic garbage, broken wooden chairs and some old papers. There was nothing more than that.
“Nothing I can get rich on Ebay with,” Barry thought aloud.
The exhaustion of the move was making Barry yawn incessantly, and as a result his head yearned for nothing but to be lying in bed.
However, just before he exited the basement, he stumbled over what looked like something metallic. Barry quickly pointed to the floor, and saw that there was a strange lump covered with sheets of newspaper.
Barry ripped everything open, and found a security camera. This fact caught the new owner's attention, because the old owner had told him that Rabbit Creek was one of the quietest places on the planet.
The next morning, this uneasiness remained on Barry's mind, who was quick to call Jules, as he was eating bacon and pancakes for breakfast.
“I can go see it later, if you want,” Jules suggested regarding the unique find.
“In fact, I've already sent it to your address for a closer look,” Barry promptly replied.
“Are you out of your mind? You need to put your life on pause for a bit,” Jules exclaimed with a chuckle.
“I'll wait for your call. Now I have to tidy everything up!” hurried Barry as he said goodbye.
Barry was certainly someone who didn't procrastinate, and as soon as he got the chance, he would rush to tidy up or sort out whatever he could. This aptitude was particularly good at Walmart, but it seemed to be of no use in his personal life.
Scams, slander and threats were recurrent in Barry's life when he lived in Seattle. No effort was enough to live in peace there. Now in Rabbit Creek he had his last hope.
Box by box, his illusion of personal peace seemed to slowly settle in his new home.
“And voilà!” said Barry as he placed the last box in the dining room.
His happiness was such that he was ready to send pictures and videos to his mother, but just as he picked up his cell phone, he saw that he had a message from his geek friend Jules.
“After looking at the security camera, I have some good and bad news.”
This alarmed Barry right away, but just as he wanted to call his friend, the doorbell of house n#13 rang.
“I hope it's the neighbor I saw the first time I came here,” Barry said to himself, combing his hair before opening the door.
“Hi! Are you the new guy? Rabbit Creek taxes here,” said an expressionless, tousled, gray-haired old lady as she handed him some papers.
“Uh, thanks!”
“Yeah, I also have to inspect the house and check everything is in order as mandated by the local police,” reluctantly exclaimed the lady who claimed to be Vero, the community agent, before taking the first steps inside.
“Look, Mrs. Vero, I just moved in and...” Barry was saying when his cell phone rang uncontrollably.
Barry ran into the dining room to grab it from the table and one glance was enough to confirm that it was him, Jules.
“Yeah, buddy, what's up?”
“I guess you already read the message. Which news do you want first?” asked Jules in a hurry.
“I need a good signal.”
“I was able to access the camera videos and see everything recorded up to a week ago,” the geek revealed.
“The bad thing?”
“It was a hidden security camera.”
“What's wrong with that, Jules?” asked Barry very seriously.
“It was removed the day before you arrived at Rabbit Creek,”
“So what?”
“To plant a bomb!”
Barry didn't finish hearing this when he had already dropped his cell phone on the floor to go get Vero and run off.
“Let go of me, boy, I'm old enough to get married in church,” Vero yelled several times as she watched Barry drag her by one arm.
This little commotion disturbed the pristine calm of Rabbit Creek, and immediately the neighbors called the police.
As the cops listened to Barry, house #13 on White Street exploded, sending hundreds of pieces into the air like fireworks.
In an unprecedented event, Alaska firefighters had to go to Rabbit Creek for the first time in history. Fortunately, their battle with the White Street blaze lasted no more than half an hour.
In the face of all this disaster, Barry was accused of being a terrorist, but he kept telling the officers at the police station that he was just a former Walmart worker, running away from the big city and all its crazy people. He especially wanted to get his life back together after breaking up with Feather, his ex-girlfriend.
“There must be a friend on his way here who has proof that it wasn't me who blew up the house,” commented Barry, who was trying to buy time.
“You've done irreparable damage to the memory of the people of Rabbit Creek,” replied an officer putting Barry in handcuffs.
“Hold on, Exter, the kid seems to be telling the truth,” said the police chief before making Barry sit down.
Hours passed and Jules did not show up. With the dusk, the thought came to Barry that his life was doomed to never come out of the darkness. Life imprisonment.
The poor handcuffed man only saw his life back when he saw Jules appear outside the police station. He was coming with security camera in hand, ready to free his partner.
“So you're telling me it wasn't Barry Luck who planted the bomb?” questioned the aggressive Exter.
“Not at all,” Jules said confidently before motioning Barry to keep talking.
“This was an elaborate plan by his pyromaniac ex-girlfriend Feather, just as you can see on screen,” Jules clarified comparing various features of the girl on both the dashcam video and a photo of her.
“when did she do it? Sean Swarz, former owner of the house, had to realize it,” Exter remarked.
“She had already found out that Barry wanted to come here, so she bought the house before Barry did and convinced Sean, in a very particular way, to put it back on the market at half price. That way, my friend would be tempted to buy it without thinking about it,” Jules said.
“What about the bomb?”
“She made sure to plant it a day before he arrived. The only thing she didn't count on was that Barry would find the basement, and discover the bomb and the security camera that held evidence she wanted to disappear with the explosion.”
The officers looked at the handcuffed man in silence, and after a moment of whispering things to each other, they decided to release him under caution. Barry breathed freedom again through tears.
“Now I owe you the lastest computer,” Barry said wiping his face.
“It's ok, buddy! You're the one who found the security camera. Let's go home,” Jules replied.
He took Barry back to Seattle, but now knowing that the one who would be watched forever was going to be Feather.
