The Prospect - Eliot Parker (top 10 novels .txt) 📗

and Shane, they would swear the house was abandoned. The doors leading to the bedrooms were old and coats of paint were peeling of the door frames in large chunks. Each room had very few lights, especially the living room hallway leading to the bedrooms. The singular light bulb was dim at best and Frank had a hard time seeing his way down the narrow corridor adjacent to the living room once he found the switch.
The bedroom doors were closed, and Frank did not know where to begin. The first room in the corridor was the bathroom, and when he opened the door, the conditions were deplorable. The bathroom was covered in dirt and soap scum and the sink and bathtub were rusting badly. The toilet was dirty and sections of hardwood floors were beginning to rot away. Frank blinked hard, pulled the door shut, turned and continued up the hallway.
Meanwhile, Phil was scouring through the living room, looking behind chairs, under couch cushions, and behind small pieces of furniture for evidence of what happened to Joann or where she might be. Just like the carpet, the couches were old and white stuffing was seeping through large gaping holes. Phil scanned the room and noticed that the furniture did not match and that pieces were placed in odd areas throughout the house. Chairs were placed against doorways leading to other portions of the house. The couch was against the chipped stone fireplace, where one arrant spark could easily set it on fire. The appearance of the interior of the house was that of puzzle pieces strung out over a very small area. Discouraged with his search, Phil Rodney called into the next room for his friend.
“Any luck Frank?”
There was a muffled response from the corridor and Phil could not interpret the sound. Nervous and somehow exhausted, Phil took one of his callused hands and wiped the sweat from his pointed nose. His denim shorts were concealing sweat that was beginning to drip down his leg. Since the house was not air conditioned, Phil’s nerves and the increasing early summer humidity made the inside of the Triplet home stifling hot.
Phil’s thoughts were abruptly stalled with the appearance of Frank Miller. “In here Phil, quick!”
Both men raced down the hallway to the last room on the right. Once inside, they found Joann Triplet sitting in the floor leaning against a bed. The bed was sagging on the left side, pressed against the floor and the corresponding yellow wall. Sheets and pillows were tossed all over the room and an old white wooden desk was the only other furnishing in the room. Frank dropped to one knee and picked up Joann’s hand. Her fingers were cold and clammy and she gave no verbal or non-verbal indications that anyone had entered the room.
“Joann, Joann, we got a report of some screams coming from this here house. It’s me, Frank Miller. Phil Rodney is here too. What’s going on here? Common, now, don’t you being playing tricks on us.”
Phil leaned forward and shrugged his shoulders. “Go and see if you can find a towel and ring it good with some cold water. And make sure it’s not a towel that’s got some gunk on it,” ordered Frank.
Joann’s lips trembled yet she remained in an upright position. Frank’s first thought was that she was in a catatonic state. The silence in the room was deafening and Frank, not being trained in psychoanalysis, did not know what to do or say. He decided to scoop Joann up from the floor and sit her on the bed. She was a robust woman, but after some positioning and shifting, he was able to sit her down on the maroon colored sheets.
Phil Rodney returned with a towel soaked in water. Frank jerked it from his friend and began wiping the forehead and neck of Joann Triplet. Still unfazed by the touch of cold, wet water, both men held their breath, not knowing what was coming next.
“Today’s is the day,” Joann uttered, sounding like a taped audio recording. “Roger died today…fifteen years ago today. I figure that he is still here you know… still stalking me… still punishing me for taking myself and my boy to Pittsburgh all those years ago. I wanted to go there, he did not. Probably because all his whores where here and he would miss the fresh pussy he got on a weekly basis.” She began twirling her hair around her fingers and she continued to stare foreward.
“Yep. Boys, life was once good here in Sheaville. It isn’t anymore. Now Shane is here living the dream for us all. Trying to make something of him in a place where nobody escapes the fatalism of West Virginia. Sometimes, I just wonder why I am here. I wonder why you are here. I wonder why any of us are here. There is no future, no escape, just eternal complacency and denial.”
“I am going to call the police,” blurted Phil. In protest, Frank stuck up his hand and shook his head. He had no intentions of letting the West Virginia State Police escort Joann to a psychiatric facility in Charleston. That is exactly what would happen if Phil made the call.
After several minutes of listening to Joann, Frank decided to intervene.
“Look, pumpkin, you ain’t alone in his. We are all here to help you. Me and Phil and Jack and Shane…you’ve got Shane. He is a wonderful lad: bright, smart, handsome, and talented. Honey, if he says he’s going to get you two outta here, then by george he’ll do it. Now lets get you into bed and let you rest, all right? We can talk more about this in the morning time.”
Joann made no movements and said nothing. Frank and Phil were not sure she was going to respect their request, but she managed to swing her legs around, nearly kicking Frank in the face with her right heel. She rolled onto her side, facing the wall. Frank gently covered her up with a blanket and motioned for Phil to walk out of the room.
Back in the living room, Frank paced across the floor. Phil’s legs were covered with sweat and his nose was speckled with it as well as he spoke.
“What are we going to do about this? Pal, she needs help.”
“What she needs is to take her dag gum medicine,” Frank said crossly as he stopped pacing and looked toward the kitchen. “Listen, you ain’t to say a word ‘bout this to no one. When we get back to town, I am going to see Mayor Mitchell. We need to have us a talk.”

XII

In baseball, if you cannot score, you cannot win. That part of the game was tough for the Sheaville Loggers in their four game series with the Columbus RedStixx. The Loggers lost three of four games against the RedStixx, managing only six runs, including back-to-back nights when they were unable to score any runs at all. The Loggers’ pitching, which had been a strength since the middle of April, was now becoming a glaring weakness. After giving up a combined 12 runs in their last 8 games, Sheaville’s pitching staff surrendered 23 earned runs in four games.
Manager Walter Mann tried all sorts of strategies to improve the pitching. He had his pitchers adjust their stances on the mound and tweak their individual deliveries towards home plate, but nothing seemed to work.
Sheaville did have an opportunity to spilt the series with Columbus, but squandered chances in the first and second innings against right-handed pitcher John Peralta. After a RedStixx two-base error started the first, putting Ryan Head at first, the next three Sheaville hitters struck out. In the second, Sheaville received consecutive one-out singles from Harry Deitzler and Biggie Rowan. Chaz Martinez then drove the ball deep to left-cente field, but the Columbus right fielder was able to make a tremendous over-the-shoulder running catch for the second out, taking away an extra-base hit, and Pat Sutton grounded to second to end the threat. That series of events was indicative of the entire series. The series featured ruined opportunities, poor pitching, culminating in losing three out of four games and dropping the Loggers to third place in the Appalachian Baseball League’s standings, behind the Charleston Alley Cats and the Savannah Sandnats.
Shane did not fare well against the Columbus hitters. He was unable to get any movement on his fastballs and his breaking pitches hung towards the middle of the plate and he paid the price. Columbus lambasted Shane for 8 runs and 12 hits in 5 2/3 innings in game 3 of the series. It was his first poor pitching performance since early in the season.
Before the Loggers could return to West Virginia, they needed to take care of the Lakewood Blue Claws. Lakewood is located in Ocean County, New Jersey. It is a favorite destination of many ABL teams because of its feature attractions. The county is the second largest in the state in terms of size and one of four New Jersey counties which border the Atlantic Ocean. The county is in close proximity to two of the America’s largest metropolitan centers, New York City approximately 60 miles to the north and Philadelphia roughly 50 miles to the west. In addition, Atlantic City is located 50 miles to the south. These metropolitan areas are easily accessible to Ocean County via several major highways, which was somewhat of a novelty to the Sheaville Loggers players who were not used to seeing many highways in the entire state of West Virginia.
The first game of the series was supposed to be Shane’s turn in the rotation, but because of the fight with Biggie on the way from Lexington to Columbus he served a one game suspension. For the most part, the Loggers did not discuss the fight amongst themselves, although Chaz had fun chastising Shane about it. Walter always kept matters involving individual team players isolated from the rest of the team. Anyone who spoke about incidents off the field to fans, family members, or the media were dealt with swiftly and severely.
The first game was tied at 0-0. Alex Hedge, Shane’s replacement in the rotation, was only 18 years old, and a Texas native who went 34-19 in three seasons playing for Baylor University. A tall, husky pitcher with a chocolate brown goatee and a chubby face, Alex had an excellent fastball and he was one of the most cerebral pitchers on the team. However, Walter did not like to use pitchers who were so young too early in the season, especially with the team contending for first place.
Alex was pitching amicably into the sixth inning. He had surrendered 8 hits and 4 walks, but only two runners scored, giving Lakewood a 2-0 lead. Yet Lakewood would break through against his fastball in the bottom of the sixth. Jeremy Richards doubled to left to start the frame and was sacrificed to third by Blueclaws pitcher Evan Kyle. After leadoff hitter Steve Frame walked, Ben Cignetti came up with a single the other way to left field for an RBI and a 3-0 lead. By the seventh inning, Richards and Frame had two more singles, and Cignetti hit a triple towards the gap between center field and right field for a two more RBI’s and a 5-0 Blueclaws lead.
Disgusted with the turn of events, Walter removed Alex Hedge and brought in closer Chris Taylor. Since the Loggers had not really used Taylor in the series with Columbus, Mann figured he was fresh and capable of providing some long inning relief. Shane sat in the dugout with his arms folded and talking quietly with some of his teammates. His manager had decided to stagger