Around 9 p.m., he hit Kurtzville's outskirts. Things pretty much looked the same as they did in 1982 when he was here as a kid; a little town that had shut down for the night. From the look of the place (closed down business and a few abandoned houses) it looks like this town has been dealing with a decades long night. Everything was closed except for the metal foundry, which was banging, clanging and pouring molten steel into huge buckets as Mark drove by.
Instinctively, he drifted over toward the part of the Saucony Creek where he used to have good luck trout fishing.
NO FISHING signs were posted these days; FISH UNSAFE for HUMAN CONSUMPTION.
He decided to head over to the L&M before the old lady that ran the place went to bed and had to be awakened.
Main Street was filled with now-closed businesses. "Great place to start a business," he muttered to himself before hitting the gas and making those noises that burning tires make as the screech carries through the quiet autumn night.
 
As expected the place looks like it looked in 1982-- only now it's older and more weatherbeaten. Mark walks through the open door and into the tiny office that sits in front of her tiny owners' apartment. She takes time moving the 10 feet from her chair and into the office.
 
The old woman who stood (stooped) behind the Lincoln's desk had rotting teeth and wore a soiled blue robe. Mark remembered her well from his uncle's congregation but for no other reason than the fact that she was regular at his uncle's Sunday sermons (flashback). Tonight she must have been listening to a radio preacher, as that's what was playing in the backroom as Mark walked in.
"...and my brothers and sisters," a paternalistic voice cried out, "if we can hold out as brothers and sisters, we could see our way through this dark tunnel and back into the light of prosperity......"
"I'd like to check in for the week," Mark requested of the old lady.
"Two hundred," the woman said back to Mark.
"...times are tough my friends, we know that here at the network as well as anyone; we know you folks are hurtin but you gotta dig deep...."
"Do I get a discount if I told you I was related to the Reverend Kurtz?"
"Yes, Yes! you are the Nephew-- Eugene's nephew-- Mark?"
"Yes I am, how'd you remember, how'd you know?"
"Oh, I'm an old country lady. Those are the kinds of thoughts that occur to old country ladies on quiet autumn nights like this. One hundred for the week; good to see you back.
"Feels good to be back."
The woman smiled like it was the best thing she'd ever seen, his coming back to Kurtzville. "Best room in the place," she said, handing the room key to her new guest.
He went to the room briefly, throwing his backpack into the motel room and opening the windows to air it out a little.

 

 

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