Level Zero: A Nightmare in Riverton Novel

CHAPTER ONE

The service was elegant, and the chosen photo was perfect, but the late
Helena Reinhold remained dead. CHRIS WILKERSON stood fifteen
feet from the casket next to his grieving spouse, Katrina, reflecting.
I don’t know what to say. Eight words from Katrina since Helena passed,
and they were something to the effect of “change those pants,” and “that’s the
wrong colored belt.” No way to a smoother landing, is there?
He stood tall, handsome, and well-dressed while Katrina donned
a beautiful black dress with hints of lace and a matching head
covering. With Helena’s death, the Reinhold legacy hung in the
balance. Despite the continued support of her benefactors, the late
Mrs. Reinhold was never likable, nor respected.
She lay motionless in the blue dress Katrina picked for her. Though
bold in contrast to the mahogany box surrounding her body, the
mortician’s exceptionalism in prepping Helena to match up with her
best photographs was admirable — even working to choke the stench
of formaldehyde from the room with hints of potpourri. The classic
eye-makeup and lipstick matched her blushed cheeks while the
diffused lighting illuminated her corpse in a natural color.
Her service went by with just the pomp and circumstance the elites
of Riverton expected, and in a defining manner that only the
prosperous could afford. With their hands separated, Chris and
Katrina paid their final respects before giving a cue to the funeral director to close the lid.

The pallbearers moved into position, and the
rest of the room scattered. Exiting the rear of the facility, the funeral
home staff escorted them toward the hearse.
He reached out to hold Katrina’s hand. She ignored him.
I’m searching for words, but I have nothing meaningful to contribute, he
thought.
As they loaded into the back seat of the hearse, Katrina spoke to
Chris, peering into his periwinkle eyes, “I really can’t believe this.”
Chris rolled the window down a notch and mumbled, “A means
to an end.”
“You don’t need to say anything. Unless you’re going to work for
a greeting card company, you can stop with the generic remarks. They
got old twelve years ago.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
The graveside service ended in a blur, leaving Chris in an
unshakable haze as he and Katrina drifted further apart.
. . . . .

Time went on, the bereavement leave dried up, and CHRIS
WILKERSON returned to work at WGBO 530 AM. Wayne Wallace
and Ramblin’ Ron sat in the studio chattering away as the ON AIR
light flashed above their heads. Chris fell into the producer’s chair just
outside the studio for the first time in weeks following time away to
mourn Helena and support Katrina. Both men in the studio waved.
Yeah. Yeah. Nice to see you, too. What’s on the agenda this afternoon?
He studied the paperwork on his desk as the wall’s countdown
clock hinted at the approaching commercial segment.
Ron came out of the studio and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s
good to see you. We’ve missed you. If you need anything — anything
at all, let me know.”
“I appreciate that,” Chris said, more muted and subdued than
usual. He rifled through the stack of paperwork accumulated on his
desk.
“You want to go out for a smoke?” Ron asked. “Wayne’s going to
run with the next segment. We’re due a good catch up.”

“I haven’t even been here five minutes, but, why not?”
They walked past a poster for the Dynamic Duds show as
oversized caricatures of Ron and Wayne yelled into illustrated
microphones, one across from the other.
Ron stopped in front of it. “I always thought they made me look
like a doppelganger to Nixon...Wayne’s fat chin’s too chiseled.”
“Ha. I love that poster,” Chris said. “I think it’s a fair likeness. It’s
great to be back.”

. . . . .

Arriving home later that day, Chris recounted the escapades of his
return to WGBO with Katrina while they shared a slice of pizza at the
oblong Reinhold family table. Katrina had yet to acknowledge him
after several minutes of after-work chatter.
“Were you paying attention to anything I just said?” he asked.
“Whatever. I don’t care about what you do at WGBO. You just go
on and on about it whether I want you to or not, so why should I
bother acknowledging your wacky-pack stories.”
He squeezed Katrina on the hand, and she pulled away. “I think
it’s about time we get out of the house a while. A little time in the sun
could do you good. I’d like to see that nice figure of yours gallivanting
in that number we got you last summer.”
“Are you flirting or flattering?”
“What’s it to you? I haven’t applied for a job in the greeting card
business yet. Can’t a man hit on his wife a little now and then? You
deserve the truth.”
“Whatever. I’ll pack up.” Katrina exited the room. A minute later,
she called from around the corner, “Wait a minute. You’re going to
take off work as soon as you get back? That doesn’t look good on you.
Why don’t we wait a couple of weeks?”
“Not necessary. I arranged more time off. We can stay at the rental
cabin if you want to hang around a few days.”
“Good enough for me,” she said.

CHAPTER TWO

TODD ADAMS and his girlfriend, Lorrie Hatcher, smoked a cigarette
together outside the Bridgewater Restaurant on Oak Hollow Lane. As
their date night neared its end, they stared at an aged hotel building
that towered over the block, puffing smoke into the sky one after the
other.
“What a waste... they should demolish that place,” Todd said.
Lorrie looked at her leather watch. “Yeah. Right in the armpit of
Riverton, and you still bring me here to eat.”
What’s on your mind? Spit it out already, Todd thought.
“Come on — the food’s spectacular,” he said, “I saw you hesitate.
What was that about?”
“We used to sneak in there at night when we were kids...”
“We? Who else would go with you? What was it like?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A safe-haven for lowlifes and thugs to screw
around. Some kind of sanctuary the cops in Precinct Three turn a blind
eye to. Who knows what councilman they paid off for the
arrangement?”
“You ever hook up with one of the... the residents?”
Lorrie’s eyes widened as she slapped him. “You know I’m not that
kind of girl. I can still picture the needles in the walls and scattered all
over the floors. You had to kick the freaking things out of the way to
walk the hallways. All those bums living in there were better off dead.

It was weird. I felt unwelcome when I went in and cursed by the time
I left. They say buildings can’t talk. This one did, Todd.”
“What are you saying? When was this?”
“It was about twelve years ago. Just the kind of crap teenagers do.
Can we talk about something else, please?”
“Okay, let’s...” he said. “What about my learning to fly? I’ve had
my license for months, and you still won’t go up with me.”
“I don’t want to. You need more time.”
“It’s not that big a deal. I’ve been flying these little planes with Stu
in the cockpit for over a year now. You haven’t encouraged me a single
time, have you?”
She shook her head at him. “I won’t let you throw your life away
in the sky. I’ve always had a bad feeling about you flying.”
“Me flying? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Lorrie scrunched her nose as she took another drag and blew it in
Todd’s face.
You’ve got to be kidding. What a jerk move.
“I don’t want one of us to end up dead,” she said.

“We’ve discussed this before. Statistics don’t lie. We’re two-
thousand times more likely to die on the highway than we are in the sky.”
She flung her cigarette on the ground, smashing and extinguishing
it under the heel of her sandal. “Don’t you remember the Halloween
party last year? You checked out on me, and I thought I lost you.”
He donned an unnatural set of pearly whites. “What? At
Creensteen’s? Are you kidding me? That guy’s duller than a used eraser.”
“You’re changing the subject. Dale’s your manager. You ought to
show more respect.”
“Maybe I will one day. Once he does the same for me.”
She grabbed him by the arm. “That’s not what I’m getting at. I
didn’t know who you were. How many other times is that happening
when I’m not around?”
“It was just an episode. A momentary lapse of judgment. Let it
slide, Lorrie.”

“Judgment...? Or sanity? What if another of these episodes happens
in the sky?”
“That’s what the lithium’s for,” Todd said. He put one of his hands
in his pockets, fidgeting with loose change. “I crush up my little pill,
dump it in my coffee, and my troubled world melts away.”
Lorrie scoffed, twisting her hair around a bare ring finger. “You
aren’t a spokesperson for the stuff. Hell, you don’t even take it half the
time. You can’t expect results just pissing it away like that.”
“Pissing it away?” Todd pulled at the top of his belt, swiveling side
to side. “That’s right. Nineteen-hour half-life and eighty percent of it
comes right out when I drain the lizard. I knew we were hooked up
for the right reasons. Nursing school’s done you some good after all.”
“Stop it, Todd. Shut up.”
Todd reached over and put his arm on Lorrie’s shoulder. “Look, I
know I’m not a perfect man... and you’re not a perfect woman, but
our offspring could be something special.”
“You can’t keep playing with my emotions this way. Four years
we’ve been together. One empty promise after another, and we’ve
gotten nowhere. Maybe we’d be better off...”
Todd interrupted, “You know that’s not fair.”
“Forget it. Take me home.”
“You got it, ma’am.”
Lorrie grabbed Todd by the hand to hold it as they walked toward
the truck. “I’m not sure about this. The life you’ve got planned for us.
Maybe we’re not compatible?”
Some nerve on her. I’m raging.
Todd stopped and froze in the middle of the sidewalk as they
strolled under a busted out street lamp. “Not compatible? You’re such a tease. One minute you’re doting on me like I’ve discovered the dad-
gum Pythagorean Theorem, the next, I might as well be working for Satan himself.”
“Well, are you?”
“Of course not. I’m a decent man. You know that about me.
Tomorrow morning, we fly.”
“Fly? What are you talking about? There’s no plane rental on
Saturday.”

There we go — uncertainty in your eyes. That’s better. Todd 1, Lorrie 0.
Time to make the vein in your forehead show.
“Our savings account. I finally bought us one.”
Lorrie’s face reddened. “No, you didn’t. We’re going to pretend
this discussion didn’t happen.” She pulled her hand away from Todd,
glaring at him as she grumbled, “Let’s say it did... You better get your
sorry ass back to whatever goon sold it to you, return it, and get our
money back immediately!”
“Give me a break. You know who’s pitching in the bulk of the cash
in the account. Get in the truck, now!”
Todd opened the door, and Lorrie climbed in, staring back at him.
“Are you raising your voice at me?” she asked.
“And if I am? What you gonna do about it?”
“Raise mine. I like a man who gets authoritative!”
That’s more like it. I’m a man in control. It’s better that way.
He walked around the front of the vehicle, hopping into the seat
as he reached across to buckle Lorrie’s belt.
“How presumptuous. What else do you do on impulse?”
“You’ll find out soon enough, sweetheart. You’ll find out soon
enough.”
Several minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot outside the
apartment.
Putting the car in park, he placed his hand on Lorrie’s arm. “How
about a caffeinated nightcap?”
“I’ll permit it this once,” Lorrie said, jabbing at him. “I really hope
you were joking, Mr. Adams, because if you weren’t...”
Todd stared at the sky a moment and replied, “Come on. Let’s go
inside.”

CHAPTER THREE

LORRIE HATCHER awoke duct-taped to the seat of a plane.
What’s going on here?
Commotion came from behind. Todd walked around from the
rear, bellowing in a masculine morning voice, “Had to get her all
fueled up. Now we’re ready.”
Why can’t I focus? I feel like I’m going to faint.
“Did you... drug me, Todd?”
He smiled. “Guilty as charged. I crushed up a few pink pills in
your coffee. You need to see me fly. We’ll keep this between us, okay?
Don’t you trust me?”
Lorrie scoffed as her mind wandered.
Why I’ve wasted the time on you I have is beyond me. I guess I’m just
that desperate.
“You wish...” she said. “I was kidding around about your
impulses last night. This isn’t right.”
“Impulses? You mean like the way you floozy around with the
medical staff at Riverton General?”
“What are you talking about?”
He’s got me so messed up, I can’t get angry. What’s going on?
The plane escalated to several thousand feet as they drifted further
from civilization.

“I hate you!” Lorrie fumed, punching Todd in the arm. “We’re
done.”
She peeled at the duct tape covering the top of her legs.
Layered with care. If this discolors my denim, I swear I’m going to freak.
“What were you thinking, taping me down like this? You are some
kind of crazy, aren’t you?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, Lorrie. Watch and learn. The only
way to fly... is to fly high.”
Lorrie remembered the adage her father taught her years earlier. A
man caught in personal calamity can only be a shell of the man he was created
to be.
She and Todd made eye contact. Her mind screamed.
You’re not the man I love. I don’t know who you are anymore.
Todd spoke in a sweetened, artificial tone, “I made you something
to perk you up, sweetheart. Have a sip.”
His hair stood straight up and unkempt as he sported an unfamiliar smile — the polar opposite of his typical refined and well-
kept appearance — a handsome man in high finance where the stakes were high, and the paydays were higher.
“You know I can’t trust you anymore,” Lorrie remarked as she
continued removing the tape.
Todd slammed his fist on the center console. “Just take a sip,
airhead.”
“I won’t.”
“Suit yourself. Percocet is the way I’m going, baby. I feel it kicking
in now. Nine little pills crushed up in a mimosa, and I’m off to the
races.”
Lorrie scoffed. “You lifted my samples? How could you? You’re
my rule follower. What the hell is going on?”
Todd glanced toward her, speaking in a deadpan tone, “Never
when I’m manic, honey... Never when I’m manic.”
The plane ascended in haste as Todd and Lorrie peered over
Riverton County.
Todd’s voice grew playful, “Look over there, dollie. There’s
Richland Lake. Or wait, is it Barton Hills?”

He has absolutely lost it. These are my final moments, and I’m wasting
them with this nutjob.
Her face became more flushed with the passing seconds. “I’ve had
enough. Take me down now.”
“Are you ready to admit I can fly yet? That I’ve got what it takes?
Or is your pride gonna get in the way? You just can’t stand to see your
sweetie succeed at something, can you? Hey... what are those little
things dancing on the windshield?”
Todd’s eyes glossed over as he peered toward Lorrie.
“Todd, you mixed the Percocet and the lithium, didn’t you? You’re
going to pass out any minute.”
“That’s the idea. I’m ready for this to be over.”
“These medications are messing you up. Let’s get you back on the
ground, and we’ll get you some help.”
“I’d rather be in the ground.” He laughed in an uncontrollable
loop.
“Todd, you are scaring me. Dear God, you’re really scaring me.”
“I’m sorry, Lorrie. It’s um... it’s um... oh gosh... not another one.
I’m clammy.”
“Do not faint. Do not faint on this plane, you hear me? Take deep
breaths. Breathe in... breathe out... If you kill me in the air, I swear I’ll
haunt you.”
Todd’s face grew pale, the plane plummeted, and he fainted.
Lorrie lurched over the console to take control of the aircraft with only
a couple of pieces of tape stuck to the top of her blue jeans.
“Oh, please God... Give us another chance... Give us another
chance,” she cried out.

. . . . .