How did Long Miles evolve from college roommates to rising reggae-rock stars. What influenced their musical journey and sound. How did their academic pursuits shape their band’s development. What’s next for Long Miles after graduation.
The Origin Story: Four Friends Unite in Charleston
In 2008, four high school friends from suburban Philadelphia made a life-changing decision. John Shields, Sam Morgan, Brett Haenn, and James McNally chose to attend the College of Charleston together, bringing their budding musical aspirations along for the ride. This decision would set the stage for the formation of Long Miles, a band that would grow from dorm room jam sessions to become a rising force in the reggae-rock scene.
The band’s journey began in McAlister Hall, where the four freshmen shared a suite. This living arrangement proved to be the perfect incubator for their musical ambitions. As Shields recalls, “Throughout that first year, we wrote and recorded 12 songs in the dorm. Looking back on it, the quality isn’t that great, but we thought it was spectacular at the time. We enjoyed a little bit of success with it, and people responded well to it.”
From Acoustic Sets to Campus Favorites
Long Miles quickly found their footing in the local music scene, securing a weekly gig at O’Malley’s, a popular King Street venue. These unplugged sets, featuring a mix of covers and originals, helped the band build a loyal following among their fellow students.
“It was great because all of our friends in the dorm would come out and have fun,” Shields explains. “They’d tell their friends and bring them out, and we started developing a little following.”
This grassroots approach to building an audience would prove instrumental in the band’s growth over the next few years.
Expanding the Lineup: New Members Bring Fresh Sounds
As Long Miles continued to evolve, they recognized the need to expand their sound. Enter Adam Williams, a 2010 College of Charleston graduate and accomplished drummer. Williams initially sat in with the band at O’Malley’s before becoming an official member, bringing his diverse rhythmic talents to the group.
The most recent addition to Long Miles is Ross Bogan, a senior at the College of Charleston and talented organist/pianist. Bogan’s keyboard skills have added new dimensions to the band’s sound, allowing them to explore different musical territories.
The Impact of New Members
- Adam Williams: Expanded rhythmic possibilities
- Ross Bogan: Added depth and texture with keyboards
- Increased versatility in live performances
- Ability to explore new genres and styles
Musical Influences: From Philly Roots to Reggae Rhythms
Long Miles’ sound is a melting pot of influences, reflecting the diverse musical tastes of its members. Shields explains, “Coming out of Philadelphia, the hip-hop/blues feel of G. Love was a big influence on us. We were listening to hip-hop and reggae a lot. I personally really liked Jimmy Cliff and Umphrey’s McGee, too.”
The band’s reggae influences became more pronounced over time, with Bob Marley’s “Burnin'” album serving as a particular inspiration. This evolution towards a reggae-rock sound is evident in their latest album, “Shades,” which features syncopated reggae and ska beats throughout.
Key Influences on Long Miles’ Sound
- G. Love (hip-hop/blues)
- Bob Marley (reggae)
- Jimmy Cliff (reggae)
- Umphrey’s McGee (jam rock)
- 311 and Sublime (reggae-rock)
Academic Pursuits: Balancing Education and Music
While Long Miles was gaining traction as a band, its members remained committed to their studies at the College of Charleston. This dedication to academics would prove beneficial to their musical careers in unexpected ways.
The band members enrolled in media classes and studied marketing, gaining valuable insights into the music industry. Shields and Morgan took their education a step further by attending the School of the Arts’ introduction to music management course, taught by Mark Bryan of Hootie and the Blowfish fame.
Shields reflects on the impact of these courses: “Mark’s class was very helpful. Classes like that encouraged all of us to stay in school and wait until we earned our degrees before making some sort of a big move as a band.”
How Academic Studies Benefited Long Miles
- Gained knowledge of music industry practices
- Developed marketing skills for band promotion
- Learned about music management from industry professionals
- Balanced artistic pursuits with practical business knowledge
Recording and Releasing: From EPs to Full-Length Albums
Long Miles’ recording journey has been marked by steady progress and increasing ambition. During their sophomore year, the band worked with studio engineer Chris DiBeneditto (known for his work with G. Love) at Philadelphonic Studios. This collaboration resulted in the release of a six-song mini-album titled “A Philadelphonic EP” in December 2010.
Building on this experience, Long Miles set their sights on creating a full-length album. Through a successful Kickstarter campaign, the band raised funds to record with acclaimed producer Rick Beato at Black Dog Sound in Atlanta. The result is “Shades,” a 10-song collection that showcases the band’s growth and evolving sound.
Shields expresses his satisfaction with the album: “I think the sound of this new album is tight and lively. Rick worked fast and serious, and it turned out better than we’d hoped for.”
Long Miles’ Recording Milestones
- Freshman year: 12 songs recorded in dorm room
- Sophomore year: “A Philadelphonic EP” with Chris DiBeneditto
- Senior year: “Shades” full-length album with Rick Beato
The Future of Long Miles: Post-Graduation Plans
As graduation approaches, Long Miles finds themselves at a crossroads. With their degrees in hand, the band members must decide whether to pursue traditional careers or fully commit to their musical aspirations.
Shields acknowledges the weight of this decision: “We’d already played together in high school, writing original tunes and playing parties. We won a battle of the bands before we applied to college. Sam and Brett had already applied to CofC, and James and I weren’t quite sure what we wanted to do. Ultimately, we decided to stick together.”
This commitment to the band has served them well throughout their college years, and now they face the challenge of translating that dedication into a sustainable career in the music industry.
Potential Paths for Long Miles
- Full-time pursuit of music career
- Balancing day jobs with band commitments
- Leveraging their degrees in the music industry
- Exploring new markets and touring opportunities
Long Miles’ Unique Sound: Navigating the Reggae-Rock Landscape
While Long Miles has embraced elements of reggae and ska in their music, Shields is quick to point out that they’re not confined to a single genre. “We are influenced by the reggae/rock movement going on, but I don’t think we’re stuck in that subgenre. We can play with that feel, but we can do other things,” he explains.
This versatility sets Long Miles apart in a crowded musical landscape. By incorporating influences from hip-hop, blues, jam rock, and reggae, the band has created a sound that is both familiar and fresh.
Elements of Long Miles’ Signature Sound
- Reggae and ska rhythms
- Hip-hop inspired vocals and lyrics
- Blues-influenced guitar work
- Jam band-style improvisations
- Keyboard textures adding depth to arrangements
As Long Miles continues to evolve, their willingness to experiment with different styles and sounds promises to keep their music exciting and unpredictable. This adaptability, combined with their strong foundation in reggae-rock, positions the band for potential success in the competitive world of professional music.
Building a Fan Base: From Campus to Beyond
Long Miles’ journey from dorm room to stage has been marked by a steady growth in their fan base. Starting with fellow students at the College of Charleston, the band’s audience has expanded to include local music enthusiasts and, increasingly, fans beyond the Charleston area.
The band’s approach to building this following has been organic and grassroots. As Shields notes, “I think we came across as best friends on stage. You could tell that we’ve been living and playing together for years.” This genuine camaraderie and on-stage chemistry have been key factors in attracting and retaining fans.
Strategies for Fan Base Growth
- Regular performances at local venues
- Engaging with audiences on and off stage
- Leveraging social media and online platforms
- Collaborating with other local artists
- Participating in music festivals and events
As Long Miles looks to the future, expanding their fan base beyond their college town will be crucial. The release of “Shades” provides an opportunity to reach new audiences and potentially tour more extensively.
The Role of Technology in Long Miles’ Journey
Technology has played a significant role in Long Miles’ development as a band. From their early recordings in the dorm room to their successful Kickstarter campaign for “Shades,” the band has embraced digital tools to create and promote their music.
Social media platforms have allowed Long Miles to connect directly with fans, sharing updates, behind-the-scenes content, and new music. Streaming services like SoundCloud have provided additional avenues for the band to reach listeners beyond their live performances.
Tech Tools Utilized by Long Miles
- Home recording equipment for demos and early releases
- Social media platforms for fan engagement
- Crowdfunding for album production
- Streaming services for music distribution
- Digital marketing techniques learned through coursework
As Long Miles continues to grow, their ability to leverage technology effectively will be crucial in navigating the ever-changing landscape of the music industry.
Lessons Learned: The Long Miles Experience
The journey of Long Miles from college freshmen to graduating seniors on the cusp of potential music careers has been filled with valuable lessons. These experiences have shaped not only their music but also their approach to the business side of the industry.
One key lesson has been the importance of balancing passion with practicality. By pursuing their degrees while developing their band, Long Miles has created a safety net that allows them to take calculated risks in their music career.
Key Takeaways from Long Miles’ Journey
- The value of persistence and consistent practice
- The importance of building a supportive network
- The benefits of diversifying musical influences
- The power of education in complementing artistic pursuits
- The need for adaptability in a changing industry
As Long Miles stands at the threshold of their post-graduation careers, these lessons will undoubtedly inform their decisions and guide their path forward in the music industry.
Long Miles graduate from the school of reggae-rock
Posted inFeatures, Music+Clubs
by
T. Ballard Lesemann
Four years ago, John Shields was a new kid in town, an 18-year-old transplant from suburban Philly eager to get rolling with a budding band. Nowadays, with almost four years of school under his belt, Shields is at a turning point. After graduation, he could pursue a standard day job and move into a sturdy career. Or he can follow a different path with his bandmates in the Long Miles.
“We’d already played together in high school, writing original tunes and playing parties,” Shields says of his pals — bassist Sam Morgan and guitarists Brett Haenn and James McNally. “We won a battle of the bands before we applied to college. Sam and Brett had already applied to CofC, and James and I weren’t quite sure what we wanted to do. Ultimately, we decided to stick together.
”
The four friends to Charleston at the same time. All are due to graduate in May.
The Long Miles guys initially resided and rehearsed in a four-room suite at McAlister Hall. They became a solid team, refining their technique, songwriting, and on-stage performance along the way.
“Throughout that first year, we wrote and recorded 12 songs in the dorm,” Shields says. “Looking back on it, the quality isn’t that great, but we thought it was spectacular at the time. We enjoyed a little bit of success with it, and people responded well to it.”
During their freshmen year, Shields emerged as the lead vocalist and lyricist. Morgan and McNally provided additional ideas for song arrangements
“I think we came across as best friends on stage,” Shields says. “You could tell that we’ve been living and playing together for years.”
During their freshman year, the foursome picked up a weekly gig at King Street venue O’Malley’s, playing unplugged sets of covers and originals.
They tightened up even more during their sophomore year, recorded with studio engineer Chris DiBeneditto (G. Love) at Philadelphonic Studios, and a released six-song mini album titled A Philadelphonic EP in Dec. 2010. Their popularity in the club scene grew even more throughout 2011.
“It was great because all of our friends in the dorm would come out and have fun,” Shields says. “They’d tell their friends and bring them out, and we started developing a little following.”
Drummer Adam Williams, a CofC grad from 2010, started sitting in at O’Malley’s and at other shows, eventually signing on as an official member. Williams also keeps time with funk band Wadata and a few Charleston-based projects. The most recent enlistment is former Plainfield Project organist/pianist Ross Bogan, who’s currently in his senior year at CofC. Bogan plays with Wadata, Weigh Station, and others as well.
“The band’s sound is still evolving,” Shields says. “We’re still trying to find our main style.
We definitely incorporate a lot of styles. Coming out of Philadelphia, the hip-hop/blues feel of G. Love was a big influence on us. We were listing to hip-hop and reggae a lot. I personally really liked Jimmy Cliff and Umphrey’s McGee, too. Adam has the ability to play all sorts of music and rhythms, which allows us to expand. We got more in to the jam scene along the way, and we tried to get away from the standard formulas.”
All four of the original bandmates developed an interest in the inner workings of the music industry and the process of producing music. They enrolled in media classes and studied marketing on campus. Shields and Morgan attended CofC’s School of the Arts’ introduction to music management course taught by Mark Bryan, the lead guitarist of Hootie and the Blowfish and head of the Chucktown Music Group.
“Mark’s class was very helpful,” Shields says. “Classes like that encouraged all of us to stay in school and wait until we earned our degrees before making a some sort of a big move as a band.
”
Last year, Long Miles raised funds through a Kickstarter campaign to record with acclaimed studio man Rick Beato at Black Dog Sound in Atlanta. The 10-song collection, Shades, hits the street this week.
“I think the sound of this new album is tight and lively,” Shields says. “Rick worked fast and serious, and it turned out better than we’d hoped for.”
Rhythmically, the songs on Shades sound more like a modern reggae/rock band than a funky jam band or hip-hop hybrid. Syncopated reggae/ska beats are consistent throughout the songs on Shades. It fits in well with the post 311/Sublime side of rock.
“We had all always listened to reggae, especially Bob Marley’s album Burnin’,” Shields says. “We are influenced by the reggae/rock movement going on, but I don’t think we’re stuck in that subgenre. We can play with that feel, but we can do other things, too.”
Love Best of Charleston?
Help the Charleston City Paper keep Best of Charleston going every year with a donation.
Or sign up to become a member of the Charleston City Paper club.
Join the club!
Make a donation
Tagged: Local Bands, Long Miles, Music Farm
- 7/12 NEWSBREAK: Dangerous heat expected over weekend
July 12, 2023 - Tecklenburg, Burgess lead in races for mayoral money
July 11, 2023 - Charleston again voted best U.S. city by T+L readers
July 11, 2023 - 7/11 NEWSBREAK: County shouldn’t have withheld information, judge says
July 11, 2023 - 7/10 NEWSBREAK: Former S.C. Rep. Curtis Inabinett Sr. laid to rest
July 10, 2023
7/11 NEWSBREAK: County shouldn’t have withheld information, judge says
Charleston again voted best U.S. city by T+L readers
Tecklenburg, Burgess lead in races for mayoral money
LIST: All the Charleston locations in Righteous Gemstones season one
The Top 50: Our go-to restaurants for everything from decadent to down-home fare
Jason Miles | Producer | United States
Grammy Award winning producer, keyboardist, composer, arranger and synthesist.
BUY NOW
“Genius” -Miles Davis-1991
“Jason Miles is a Great Musician” -Chick Corea-2021
“Jason Miles is total Gangsta” -Sean Martin-2021
“Jason Miles has raised the level of excellence for the musicians who have had the good fortune of working with him, myself included. He has enriched the lives of the millions of people who have listened to the music he plays, the recordings he produces and the countless musicians he mentors and inspires. The work he did with my friends, Miles Davis and Marcus Miller have helped to define the modern face of jazz music.” – Roberta Flack
Welcome to my website! Here you will find some history about me, some excellent photos in my gallery, various services that I also offer that will make one a better artist and musician and producer. I’ll keep you up to date on my various projects that I’m working on and have some live dates in the future to post as well. Also…look at all the different social media sites that I’m on and you’re more than welcome to join them.
I’m happy to report that my long-awaited book has been edited and ready to move to the next step. I’m going to need your help to get it out there. I will be posting more about this and how you can help me make this reality. The book will come with a new album of solo piano and trio pieces. The first time I’ve done that.
Here is a link that will take you to my Pre-sale site..I am asking friends and supporters to do a pre-order of the book which will be out in the middle to the end of April. By pre-ordering the book you are allowing me to go and create an excellent campaign for marketing and promotion and also raise the quality of the package. It cost money to do these and I appreciate your support to help. There are very fan friendly funding tiers.
Your support is greatly appreciated. Just a reminder with every pre-order you get a digital copy of my new upcoming solo piano and trio album.
Learn More Here
My last album “Jason Miles // Kind of New – Black Magic” came out on March 6, 2020, and soon after that the lockdown happened in all my live shows disappeared.
So, what I did was record some new music for the album. They are digital bonus tracks that are available exclusively on Band Camp under Jason Miles. The tracks feature guest artists Randy Brecker and Russell Gunn.
A very big priority for me will be the launching of my one-man show “The Extraordinary Journey of Jason Miles. A Musical Biography.” I take you through 47 years of my life in the music world and some of the amazing artists and projects that I was involved with over all this time. Mixing stories and music together to bring what my life has been into focus. It’s all part of the package with the book of the same title and solo album so Keep your eye out for it and of course you’ll hear about it on this site and my social media platforms. I’m also going to be releasing music from my vault of music that i have had in the archives for years.
Stay safe and visit often and here’s to a great 2022
Peace, Jason
The Green Mile – soundtracks and music from the movie
Old Alabama
B.
B. and Group
1:00
I Can’t Give You Anything But Love
Billie Holiday
3:27
Cheek To Cheek
Fred Astaire
2:38
Did You Ever See A Dream Walking
Gene Austin
2:52
Charmaine
Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians
2:24
An Offense To The Heart
Thomas Newman
1:09
Billy-Be-Frigged
Thomas Newman
2:09
Boogeyman
Thomas Newman
3:27
Boy’s Eye
Thomas Newman
0:55
Briar Ridge
Thomas Newman
0:43
Cigar Box
Thomas Newman
1:51
Circus Mouse
Thomas Newman
1:29
Coffee On The Mile
Thomas Newman
5:12
Coffey’s Hands
Thomas Newman
1:59
Condemned Man
Thomas Newman
1:34
Danger Of Hell
Thomas Newman
2:28
Done Tom Turkey
Thomas Newman
1:01
Foolishment
Thomas Newman
1:50
L’Homme Mauvais
Thomas Newman
2:22
Limp Noodle
Thomas Newman
1:04
Monster Big
Thomas Newman
1:51
Morphine & Cola
Thomas Newman
2:57
Night Journey
Thomas Newman
2:12
No Exceptions
Thomas Newman
0:58
Now Long Gone
Thomas Newman
1:08
Punishment
Thomas Newman
1:52
Red Over Green
Thomas Newman
2:58
Scared Of The Dark
Thomas Newman
1:04
Shine My Knob
Thomas Newman
0:54
That’s The Deal
Thomas Newman
1:38
The Bad Death Of Eduard Delacroix
Thomas Newman
3:49
The Green Mile
Thomas Newman
3:39
The Mouse On The Mile
Thomas Newman
1:31
The Two Dead Girls
Thomas Newman
3:02
Trapingus Parish
Thomas Newman
0:52
Two Run Throughs
Thomas Newman
1:19
Wild Bill
Thomas Newman
1:16
Read Eleven Miles online, Eloise – Litres
Attention, the book contains swear words and scenes, as well as descriptions that may be unpleasant for some categories of readers.
Strictly 18+
Strictly 18+© Eloza, 2020
ISBN 978-5-4498-0916-2
Created in the intellectual publishing system Ridero
Chapter 1. Undercope
I don’t even know where to start.
Now it all seems so stupid to me, so far away that I can’t even believe that it really happened. Like, you know, it’s like a dream that was unrealistically real, and then you suddenly wake up abruptly and realize … that all this never happened. This is how it happened to me.
Everything is so bright, blinding, memorable. And then some kind of darkness, as if they are devastating you, pumping out everything that you have accumulated in yourself over these long years.
I’m Brandon, by the way. Brandon Steven Winter. You may have heard of me. Well, remember, “oh, this is the guy who…” and God knows what this “guy who” was doing. It’s me, yes, you’re not mistaken. Only now it’s better not to see me, a terrible sight. I am writing this nonsense in the hope of forgiveness.
Yes, forgiveness, I did not make a mistake in choosing the word. Only a couple of years have passed, and I am already languishing from the feeling that burns me from the inside. Whatever I did then, but it forever branded me for many years.
I don’t remember exactly how it all started, but I think it happened in New York. A couple of years ago.
***
Bad weather in New York. At least in Manhattan, at least on the East Side.
There is not a soul on the streets, the twilight of the evening entwined high-rise buildings of offices and residential buildings in a mysterious web. Strangely, almost anomalously, the unaccustomed silence seemed to penetrate even the narrowest crevices of buildings, into the hidden corners of human souls, put down its poisonous black roots there, and froze in blind silence. Not a single person. No dog, no cat, no dead rat.
Ti-shi-na.
Small droplets of rain fell from under the heavy lead clouds that covered the city with a sluggish misty veil, pounded on the roofs, trickled down the window panes in hardly noticeable streams.
In the distance, somewhere on Carnegie Hill*, a siren screeched disgustingly, one, two, three. Police cars rushed past unusually sleepy houses to the right block. Some townspeople, who did not sleep at a late hour, jumped out into the street in bathrobes and slippers, despite the vile weather, someone looked out the windows, shouted to those who came out, wondering what had happened. Nobody knew anything.
Almost nobody.
When the sirens screeched to a halt, the police immediately began to get out of the cars, and there was a commotion. The Carnegie Hill area was immediately cordoned off, yellow ribbons were brightly full of everywhere, wherever the eye fell, and thanks to the officers of law and order, they were densely intertwined with each other in a strange web with the inscription “Do not enter!”.
– Come in, come in, don’t crowd, come in! – Some officer shouted, whose name no one knew. Brand new, you can immediately see by the bewildered look and finely trembling hands.
– My wife is there! Miss me! Your mother, let me go to her! I live here, damn it up your ass! – A male voice squealed hysterically, slightly drunk, perhaps, but generally sober and booming with grief and rage.
– I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not allowed to let civilians in.
– Don’t care what you’re allowed and what’s not, asshole! the night passer-by yelled hoarsely, his voice breaking through the yellow prohibition tapes in flashes.
– Sir, for insulting a police officer while serving you …
– I’m a fucking member of your damn police too!
– Sir, please…
– Fuck your “please”!
The owner of the voice rummaged through his wet black autumn coat and pushed a police badge almost up the nose of the officer. He was taken aback, stuttering.
– Captain Winter, s-sir, I’m sorry, I don’t…
– Remove the damn tape, you idiot! the captain yelled, grinning angrily.
The frightened officer immediately obeyed, raising the yellow stripes higher so that the man could crawl under them.
The captain ran down the street, mindlessly jumping into puddles, stumbling and slipping through fresh mud. His soiled boots were cracking at the seams, the legs of his old jeans were blackened from the water, but this was not his main problem now. The man abruptly turned a corner and froze, breathing heavily.
The scene was already crowded with curious, somehow leaked through the ring of law enforcement officers, doctors and forensic experts, petty officers. Full set. All of them surrounded the broken smoking car, or rather what was left of the expensive foreign car. Winter almost immediately recognized in the wreckage the very “cool car” that he gave to his beautiful missus for her wedding anniversary.
Somewhere at the feet of the employees lay the body of a young woman.
Captain Winter rushed to the pandemonium in order to push people outraged by his rudeness and squeeze through to the victim. A local detective stood next to the corpse, hurriedly writing eyewitness statements in a notebook.
– What did you say? Yes, yes, I wrote it down, yes,” he muttered in a barely audible voice, trying to follow the stories of eyewitnesses. – Accident? Possibly, yes. Um, not sure, ma’am, sorry. No, I can’t stay here longer than expected, let’s get to the point. Hm, yes. Yes, I heard.
– Harry? – There was a hoarse confused voice.
The detective reluctantly looked up from his notebook, but as soon as he saw the captain, the officer immediately saluted, hurriedly waving his hand and hitting the lamppost with his fingertips.
“Step aside,” Winter commanded listlessly, frowning. “I just…” “The body is there, sir. Do you know her?
He did not answer. Having sluggishly approached the corpse of a young woman, he slowly knelt down, hugged her body and, pressing her to him, whimpered softly. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes, and Winter let out a barely audible howl. This is what he was afraid of. He waited, it was only a matter of time, when it would happen, but it wasn’t so cruel, just not so terrible.
– Sarah…
– Sir, I’m very…
– Shut up, O’Brian. Not a word more about regrets.
– Excuse me, Mr. Winter, sir.
The man opened his eyes and looked at his wife’s whitened face. Her dark hair was disheveled and stained with blood, sticking to her broken forehead, her eyes rolled back, her mouth opened ugly. Winter exhaled raggedly, running his hand over her face, lowering her eyelids.
– How did this happen? he croaked, rocking his wife’s body as if she were an infant in need of his protection.
– We assume her car went off the road at high speed.
– But this is nonsense! the captain shouted, slamming his fist on the ground, raising dirty spray from the blow. Sarah never exceeded the speed limit.
– I’m just saying what I’ve already been told, captain.
– And you don’t want to listen to someone who knew about this woman, damn it, that’s it! This is my wife, my wife, do you hear, brat? She was mine! Lord..
.
He covered his face with his hands, trying to cope with the feelings that had washed over him. The pain in his chest began to press, Winter had long suspected that this was how it would all end. Or start.
The wet coat did not save his frozen cheeks from tears, but at least he was able to calm the trembling in his voice and gain time by wiping his face, which had turned pale with horror. Gradually pretending to come to his senses, Captain Winter reluctantly let go of his wife’s body and got up from the dirty asphalt, not even bothering to shake himself off. Adjusting his ironed collar and lifting it higher to protect himself from the wind, the man frowned at the detective, muttering almost under his breath:
– Listen here, I won’t repeat it. Sarah… Deliver the victim to the morgue, from there I will take her body. Send a request to the nearest funeral agency… I know it’s none of your business, but I really need help right now. Send a team of experts to the scene of the accident, we need to figure out what caused this shit.
– But, Captain, I…
– And I don’t care at all that you, Harry, can’t stay here any longer. This is our job, you knew what you were getting into when you entered the police academy. Onward and with song, Mr. O’Brien, I expect your report by noon tomorrow.
– Mr. Winter, sir?
– What the hell else do you want? He turned away and, taking out a cigarette, began flicking the lighter nervously, trying to set fire to the tip. The damp cigarettes were hopelessly ruined by the damned rain, Winter cursed, throwing the whole pack into the puddle. “Got a smoke, Harry?”
– No way, sir.
– What the hell are you doing with the police if you don’t have a smoke, boy?
– I’m done, sir.
– Laudable… I also promised my wife to quit. As you can see, now the spouse is gone, but the desire to smoke remains.
“I understand,” the detective muttered uncertainly, biting his lip. He wanted to quickly end the ridiculous conversation, his hands nervously fiddling with the notebook.
– You don’t understand a damn thing, Detective. Not a damn thing. So what did you want from me?
– I wanted to ask, Mr. Winter, sir…
– Can you not say your fucking “Mr. Winter, sir” after every word? Creepy, your mother, annoying.
– I’m just…
– Okay. Speak faster. I’m too cold to be here all night.
– I wanted to ask you, can I still leave early?
– Why the hell?
– I have children and…
– Wife, – the captain croaked inaudibly, looking down and looking at his dirty boots.
– That’s right.
– Let’s think of something, Harry. So far, a report from you. Come on.
Yes, that drunk and wife-lost captain was Brandon Steven Winter, a real treasure trove for those who are looking for lovers to drink and smoke weed. He was not a playboy, but fate had beaten him too much to change anything. All he could be proud of was a beautiful wife named Sarah, a sweet and kind young woman who loved him, a former alcoholic, with all her heart.
Brandon often wondered why this lovely woman chose him, but he could never find an answer to his question. She kept him for almost five years at the stage that naive townsfolk who did not taste alcohol properly, did not smoke or use drugs, called the simple word “tie”. Temporary tie. Of course, with a few concessions. But we are all not without sin. Yes, yes, thanks to Sarah, the captain behaved properly, got a promotion, was able to move to a rather prestigious area of Manhattan. But now that his wife is practically smeared on the pavement, what is left for him?
Captain Winter knew full well what was causing his life to go downhill today. Because of whom. Thanks to drugs, Brandon often got involved in unpleasant adventures that threatened his life. And Sarah’s life. And here, please, finish the game.
Today everything was decided, it was necessary to think it over and act quickly, because there is no more time, there was a blind desire to take revenge.
Revenge is the best cure for all-consuming malice, right?
He will do everything to make his wife proud of him. Even give up rank, position in society. He wants one. Destroy those who defiled his love, who trampled his life into the dirt.
Chapter 2. Crash
I don’t really remember how I got home then. Well, yes, I remember, of course, how I was jerked along the road to the left, then to the right, then obliquely … I still remember the pillar.
No, I didn’t crash. Almost… Okay, crashed. And he was scared wildly, just to the point of trembling. I remember the thought slipped through like this: “Meet me, Sarah, I’m at home.”
All this is terrible. I did not understand then how terrible death is. In the service, for a sweet soul, he could bang some goat, well, pardon my French, but here … Every day on the radio or TV we hear something like: “A man is missing!” or another one: “A schoolgirl jumped off a high-rise building in New York!” And, damn it, until it touches you, you don’t even think about how close death walks.
Okay, these are lyrics. What am I on … Ah, a pillar.
Well, yes, I only lost control for a second and went off the track. It’s funny how life breaks and shakes us until we understand what is required of us. Well, I didn’t get it too well. It hit me so hard, it hit me so hard that I lost contact with space for a couple of hours.
I woke up, of course, cheerful… And sobbed. Losing your wife, getting into an accident, having a hell of a lot of problems – I’m a master at this, you don’t need to call anyone else. Directly contact the former captain of the United States police, I am easy to find. On the list of the missing.
***
– Damn job, damn car, damn… fucking life!
The track was empty.
Brendon, trying to escape his troubles, jumped into a battered Chevrolet immediately after talking to Detective O’Brian. The captain’s Chevy, as he liked to call it, never failed, but this time something went wrong.
Either Winter drank too much today, dying of rage in the restaurant when he was abandoned, or the death of his wife jarred his shattered nerves, or maybe it was because of extreme fatigue, but at a sharp turn, wet asphalt squealed under the wheels of the car .
And now the Chevy was resting under a lamppost, and its driver was quietly whimpering from a blow to his forehead.
Closing his sore eyes, the captain got up with difficulty, imprinting himself from the airbag that popped out inappropriately and smashed his face. His ears were ringing, Brandon ran his trembling fingers over the sink, checking for blood. The fingers were dry.
After slowly making sure that his body was in perfect order and calming the ringing in his head, the man fell out of the car onto the wet asphalt. The puddles greeted him with a joyful splash, the captain snorted angrily, looking at his now completely ruined coat.
“Damn this city,” he grumbled, lying back in a puddle and looking up at the cloudy sky.
The light from the lantern flickered obnoxiously before my eyes, irritating me even more, the alcohol gradually disappeared from the body. What will happen now?
“Damn, that was my best coat,” the man breathed out to himself. – Sarah’s gift, and you, you bastard, killed it so much.
..
Exhaling wheezing, Winter closed his eyes again. Silence and darkness thickened under the eyelids, interrupting each other, the annoying light faded, leaving Brandon in his own world, not subject to anyone. The man could not move, although the cold from the water penetrated to the very bones, and simply lay forgotten by everyone and by himself in a dirty puddle on the side of the road.
– Sara…
– Hey you! Idiot! Someone shouted upstairs. Or Brandon thought he was upstairs. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Leave me alone, man, whom I am not too lazy to shoot now,” the captain muttered through his teeth, trying not to speak his thoughts more loudly.
– What the hell are you talking about?
“I say the car crashed,” Winter said in a dry tone, looking at the drops of water running in the light of the lamp beam. – I’m lying here. I am waiting.
– What are you waiting for there? Tomorrow? The car door slammed on the left.
Brandon exhaled.
– Go where you went, man. Not up to you now.
Footsteps were heard very close, disgustingly splashing through the puddles, someone’s hoarse sigh in space and a vile grunting sound of spitting. Brandon grimaced, opening his eyelids, heavy from fatigue, looking at the violator of his impromptu peace.
Some bearded short man with a red fat face and in untidy clothes stood over the captain prostrated on the asphalt, his mouth twisted in a disapproving smirk.
– Are you a drunk guy? he boomed in a guttural bass, spitting again dangerously close to Brandon’s head.
“Listen, man, take it easy with your spitting, otherwise you’ll get into the biathlon for murder with saliva,” Winter could not stand it, snapping. Raising himself on his elbows, he grimaced as he watched the white foam float up to him.
– Smart, huh? The bearded man frowned, but decided not to aggravate the situation. Looking around, he caught his eye on the Chevy. – Has the car stalled? he asked, still determined to be of some use.
– How did you guess, grandfather?
– Uh, boy, you choose your expressions, don’t get mad. I got out in the rain to help out there, maybe to tow your car, and you bare your teeth.
– Get off, man, I can spit myself. Noticing the displeasure on his bearded face, Winter hastily added, trying to get rid of the man: “I’m fine.” I just drank a lot.
– I understand that, – it sounded almost approving. “Then come on, boy.
“And you won’t die,” the captain grumbled, snorting softly as the stranger returned to his car.
After lying for a few more endless minutes in the nasty drizzle, he finally decided that it would be wiser to get up and get back in the car. After all, it was much warmer inside than here on the street. The wet coat was unpleasantly sticky to the body, the boots were soaked through with water.
He got up from the asphalt and climbed into the car that had been open all this time, with difficulty stuffed the airbag into the place where it popped out from and so successfully smashed his face, then checked the performance of the Chevy after the impact and breathed a sigh of relief when the car started working almost without interruption .
Of course, the bumper is hopelessly damaged, the hood is bent, but the old woman is on the move, so there shouldn’t be any problems.
“There shouldn’t be any problems today…” the man croaked, leaning his forehead against the steering wheel.
Something in the depths of the soul contracted unpleasantly. He felt a lump rising to his throat, squeezing from the inside, not allowing him to breathe. Tears accumulated in the corners of the eyes and slowly rolled down unshaven cheeks, leaving behind wet salty paths, after which the skin will definitely begin to itch. Brandon lifted his head to slam his forehead against the steering wheel again, hitting hard. The dried up small wound on the skin swelled and burst from the impact, the blood was sparingly smeared on the forehead.
– I just want you back, Sarah. I want you, Sarah, I want you, do you hear? Come back, Sarah. I miss you, Sarah, I miss you,” he muttered frantically, dropping his head on the edge of the steering wheel again and again at every word, leaving bruises on his skin from blows.
Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. Sarah. S.a.r. A. Lord, what did she do to you, your mother…
The words became illegible and disorderly. From the outside, it seemed as if Captain Brandon Steven Winter had completely lost his mind from drugs, alcohol, and the loss of the person dearest to him. Perhaps, to some extent, it was so. But the essence of his tears was hidden not even behind the death of his beloved.
His tears turned into a fiery mixture of rage and disappointment. The pain of loss slowly grew into something more, into anger and anger, into rage and a desire to change everything.
He turned the ignition key, pressed the gas pedal sharply and rather hastily, albeit with little difficulty, drove out of his kind of trap back onto the track. During the time that Captain Winter spent on the pavement of the roadside, cars appeared on the highway and quite a lot. As he drove his Chevy along the rain-soaked road, Brandon sometimes had time to look around, catching one passerby after another with his eyes, remembering the lights of the big city, wondering how he had not noticed a couple of hours ago that this area, itself this city is so lively, so huge and bright.
The car meandered between the houses of the Murray Hill block, Brandon did not remember how he turned off the highway at the intersection of these streets. Looking around at the high-rise buildings watching him with their huge luminous eyes, he involuntarily cringed, pulling his head into the high collar of his overcoat.
“We need to get back to Carnegie Hill 1 ,” thought the captain, biting his lip nervously.
It was as if something was burning him, giving him no rest. Brandon desperately tried to somehow extinguish this strange fire inside himself, he wanted to distract himself from thoughts, from his wife, from home, but now it was the house where he and Sarah lived together that could be his protection and support. How difficult it is sometimes to find a protector where there will be only pain, as you think.
He gripped the steering wheel with one hand, pulled out a phone from his pocket, which he usually left at home on any other day, and dialed a number.
Then he brought it to his ear, listening to the long, sad beeps of the call.
– Sergeant Jefferson, Second Squad. I’m listening.
“Jefferson, this is Winter,” the captain wheezed weakly, staring unblinkingly at the road. The sergeant made a strange stifled sound, and Brandon literally saw how he straightened up into a string. Did you just salute me?
– Uh, that’s right, sir!
– Damn it. Do you already know what happened?
Yes, sir. My condolences…
– Just shut up and listen carefully. Was the body taken to the morgue?
Just posted, sir. In an hour they should bring it, everything is already ready for opening.
“Don’t you dare open it,” he was frightened by his changed voice. These words were spoken by a completely different person, angry and broken. – Now I’m going home, and in the morning I’ll go to the department. Do you have any important work in the future?
– No, sir, Section 5 will handle this case. I only have petty burglary.
– Fine. At nine in the morning, be kind enough to come to the morgue.
– Sir?
– Put that fucking “sir” up your ass, Jefferson! – He yelled into the phone, clutching the phone until his fingers turned white, grinning like a wild animal. The sergeant obediently fell silent, barely audible interference began to cut through the connection. “Sorry, it’s been a rough day. Look, O’Brian has to file a report, but it’s going to take some time. I don’t want my f… victim to rot in the morgue. Do you understand what I’m talking about, Jefferson?
– Yes, sir… er, captain.
– Excellent. In the morning you will go to the morgue and work with the people there to prepare the body. I have some acquaintances, so there shouldn’t be any problems. Do they know you there?
– No, I visited them only once and then by accident.
Brendon let go of the steering wheel for a second and rubbed his swollen eyelids with his fingers. He needs a rest, damn it, otherwise this shit will drive him crazy sooner than he would like. The sergeant waited patiently. After several minutes of tense silence, the captain spoke again:
– Ask the victim to be prepared for my arrival. I’ll pick her up at ten.
– But, Captain…
– Do you understand me, Sergeant Jefferson?
Yes, sir.
Brandon pressed the button to end the call. The red eye of a traffic light loomed ahead, I had to stop the car. The flow of cars was not as dense as in the center, but even it created some problems. Winter dialed the next number. Five rings later, a squeaky female voice was heard, unpleasant, annoying. Brandon grimaced, pursing his lips.
– Central Department of the Morgue. My name is Amanda Brown, I’m listening to you.
“Hello,” he tried to restrain himself, to speak calmly, but the words still ran into an obstacle in the form of tightly clenched teeth. There was an accident on Carnegie Hill recently. From the scene of the incident, the body of a young woman was supposed to be delivered to you in the morgue.
Papers rustled, the woman was looking for something. Brandon continued:
– I need to talk to one of the top, uh, employees.
– I’m on duty, sir, you can tell me anything you want to convey.
– I’m from the police, – the tension inside grew into rage, – so I advise you not to delay. Switch me immediately.
– She was silent for a few seconds, not daring to do anything. He knew how the mere word “police” worked flawlessly, but he didn’t want to take the risk of forcing her to drop the call. The girl briefly threw:
– Wait.
He did not wait too long.
– William Ambrow, autopsy expert. I’m listening.
– Autopsy expert? That’s what they call it now, isn’t it, Will? The captain chuckled wickedly. The car skidded, he pressed the phone with his shoulder to his ear and grabbed the steering wheel, twisting it. A passing truck honked deafeningly, Brandon responded with the middle finger.
– Winter?
– I need your help again, you know.
Heard what happened?
– What are you talking about?
– There was an accident on Carnegie Hill. The deceased should be delivered to your morgue in about half an hour.
– Now I understand. And what?
This is my wife.
Lump stuck in throat. Brandon took several deep breaths and tried to swallow, but it was useless. The tears were already beginning to choke him. Ambrow chuckled nervously.
– Damn it Brandon…
– It’s not that important right now. – With what difficulty did he manage to utter those terrible words. “I need you to do me the favor I once did to you. When they bring her, please try to bring her back to normal before ten in the morning. I know that preparation is not easy, but I need to bury her as soon as possible.
– Until ten in the morning? It’s a joke? Winter, wake up, almost no staff, no decent clothes, not a damn thing! If we are busy with ordinary ones for several days, then with emergency ones we need at least four days.
What in the ass ten in the morning?
– Will, understand, I want to get rid of all this as soon as possible … One look at her was enough to break my heart. I can’t pull it off, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stand it.
– This is all very touching, Winter, but such accelerated work is not part of my mandate, I’m sorry. Give me at least a couple of days. I promise, we will put it in order, you will bring some clothes, put on makeup, fix your hair. If her body is injured, we will put stitches, pads, prostheses. Just give it time. Or do you want your beloved to be hastily sewn together like a Frankenstein monster and thrown into the ground? Do you want this?
“No,” the captain whispered hoarsely, quickly brushing his tears away with his fingers.
– Then give me time. Once it’s delivered, I’ll take care of everything. And you rest, come to your senses, arrange a funeral. Leave the rest to me and my guys.
– I can’t…
– Brandon, everything will be fine.
As soon as we finish the autopsy and…
– Will, no autopsy.
– What the hell is that?
– She died from a stroke. I hit my head on the steering wheel.
– It doesn’t matter, I must determine the cause of death and document it. It’s my job, Brandon, don’t be stupid.
– And this is my wife and I don’t want you to dig inside her! – Captain Winter yelled into the phone, feeling tears spill from his eyes, burning paths flowing down his cheeks. Exhaling raggedly, he tried to pull himself together: – Just make sure that she is in order. All I ask. Please.
After a pause, the pathologist clicked his tongue and said uncertainly:
– I’ll try my best, Brandon. Only because you once helped me. And now, be kind, hang up the phone and go to sleep, it was for you, you must think, a severe shock. Just rest, I’ll call you in a couple of days and let you know when you can pick up the body. Should a protocol be drawn up on it?
– Yes, the guys are already working on it.
– I will issue a medical report based on the autopsy. I’ll slip them a linden, if that’s what you ask. But keep in mind that this may backfire on you later, Winter.
– I got it, Will. Thank you.
– I don’t even help my friends for “thank you”. Send me some good whisky, then we’ll settle. Hold on, everything will be fine. Come on, Brandon.
– Come on, Will.
Brendon held the phone to his ear for a while, intuitively waiting for a very important call. A call from my beloved wife. But nothing happened, and he had to throw the phone on the seat, again looking unblinkingly at the road. Despite the late hour, he did not feel tired. Only the desire to disappear from this world.
An hour of painful journeys and struggles with himself finally brought him back. The cordon had not yet been removed, some officers remained at the scene of the accident. Brendon frowned ahead as he once again had to show his badge to be let in. Having stopped the car not far from one of the high-rise buildings in the parking lot, the captain got out of the warm cabin into the cold and alien world.
Not reacting to the turmoil around the broken foreign car, he hurriedly slipped across the street to his house and, taking out the keys, went into the entrance.
He never liked his apartment, if only for the simple reason that it was on the twelfth floor. The captain was tired of climbing the endless stairs. Sarah was afraid of elevators, and now, even when she was no more, out of habit, he ignored the box on cables closed on four sides and got to the apartment exclusively by steps. In his heart, of course, he still grumbled at the invisible wife, who was always there.
Having opened the doors of a lonely and empty apartment with keys clutched in a trembling hand, the man burst into the house. Slamming the door, he took off his dirty, wet boots and coat, throwing everything on the floor, and without any desire to do anything, he simply fell on the bed, reaching it with incredible effort. The sheets were soaked with the smell of rain, getting wet quickly.
The man looked around the dark room.
