Precipice: The Beginning by Kevin J. Howard Page B

her son to believe the things those snooty bitches at his preschool said while pointing at them from across the lot. It was common knowledge why he was up there, but as always the truth had been widely edited and reworded before going to the papers. Travis needed them to believe in him, to love him.
    “You need to come drink your milk.” Annie flipped the banana filled pancakes on a plate and carried it to the table. “Come on, we can’t be late this morning. Or did you forget that Buckaroo Bill is coming to your class today?” Annie’s eyes widened with childlike excitement to get her son into the spirit.
    “He’s bringing a ton of ponies with him.” Logan took a seat, eagerly digging into his pancakes. “He has like two ponies.” Logan took a bite, smiling while bouncing his head from side to side. “And I get to ride them!”
    Annie smiled, her depression temporarily overshadowed with the love of her child. Seeing his excitement over such a small thing reminded her of exactly why she needed to stay strong. Logan was her medication and she needed him every day.
     
     

13
    T he darkness began to play with his mind. Shadows moving within the dark, looking like people passing by when he knew no one was there. Travis supposed their station’s psychologist would say his mind was trying to cope with the isolation, something that sounded smart and involved several long words. Travis rolled onto his back and looked up, assuming there was an up. Fifteen days had passed. He’d counted the number of times they brought him food, once in the morning and then again at night, thirty meals total. Travis has spilt his food numerous times, reaching out without sight, knocking over the glass of water with misguided fingers. He’d finished his breakfast about an hour ago, his clothes caked with fallen food and his fingers sticky.
    The door to his cell opened, pushing back the dark interior with the blinding halogens from the hall. Travis rolled onto his side and shielded his vision, instantly harboring a massive headache.
    “We need you to drive a loader.”
    Travis recognized Alvin’s voice. “Would you ask such a task of a blind man?” Travis smiled, not yet daring to turn toward the light. Black, silver and white swirls filled his vision, dancing about each other like fish in a bowl that’s far too small.
    “Well if it were up to Andrews I wouldn’t be asking you at all. But I pointed out that you hold a class four rating on operating the loader. Therefore you don’t have a choice.” Alvin couldn’t keep the pleasantness from his voice, but it was short lived. Seeing Travis on the floor like some kind of POW brought a sick taste to his stomach.
    Travis rolled onto his back, letting his arms fall limply to the side. He let out a grunt as he moved into a seated position, his eyes still tightly shut. Slowly, like a sensitive skinned man easing into a hot tub, he opened them. The white blur took shape, focusing in on the man waiting patiently in the hallway. The expression on Alvin’s face was one of compassion.
    “Do I look that bad?” Travis joked, holding out his hands to Alvin.
    “Not your best, that’s for damn sure.” Alvin stepped into the small cell and took his hands, pulling until Travis stood. He kept a tight grip on his arms as it looked like his legs may buckle, but they held.
    “Pins and needles.” Travis pounded a fist into his thigh, wincing from the sleeping numbness as it faded. “You’d think your legs would have the decency of staying awake with the rest of your body. But no, they have to be all special.” Travis released Alvin’s hands to grip the wall. He looked up into the corner of the cell and saw the small camera. He didn’t want Alvin’s generosity and good spirits to drive a wedge between him and the other guards, thus removing the only kind man in authority from their presence. “Thank you.”
    “Sorry about this,” Alvin frowned, shaking his head at the sight or Travis’