The Day that Malachi Died

Malachi reached over and stopped the little hammer on the wind up alarm clock. He knew it said 5:30 just like it had for the last fifty or so years, but he checked it anyway. He pulled the blanket off and sat himself up slowly and slipped his feet into his slippers before they touched the cold wooden floor.

Malachi had followed the same routine nearly his entire life. Go to the wash basin to wash his face and brush his teeth, start the electric percolator, and on cold mornings like it was now he would rekindle the fire in the old wood stove so it would be a little warmer in the one room shack when Mary woke up. Malachi dressed himself for the day ahead and poured a cup of coffee so it could cool off a little while he pulled on his boots.

He sat at the little kitchen table and opened his Bible and sipped on the strong, black coffee as he read the daily passage. Today’s reading landed him in the book of Malachi, the book of the Messenger.

“Lord, I pray that I have been a good messenger. Bless this day and bless my wife.” Malachi prayed.

Malachi rose up from the table and quietly went back to the bedroom and gave Mary a kiss on the cheek before going out into the cold December morning. He grabbed his thermos and walked out to his old Mack truck. Like Malachi, the truck had seen better days. The red paint was faded and chipped and the truck body dented from years of farm work and hauling logs. The old bulldog hood ornament was not quite as bright as it once was but it was still hanging on.

Malachi walked around the truck, kicking tires and checking for any new leaks, making sure all the lines were still hooked up to the grain trailer. He climbed into the cab and adjusted the pad that served as a seat cushion, the original and its replacement had long since worn out. As bad as the old truck looked, it fired right up when he turned the key. He slipped the two stick Mack into gear and pulled off into the early morning light.

He shifted through the gears and made his way down the state highway on his way to the farm. He had hauled many different goods from many different places with his truck. Today he was hauling soybeans to a processing plant. Soybeans were not Malachi’s favorite cargo, he never could get used to the smell, but it was a paycheck and would put food on the table.

He stopped at the country store on the way to top off his fuel tanks. Inside, Ms. Bonnie already had his biscuit and coffee waiting.

“Morning Malachi.”

Good morning Ms. Bonnie. How’s things?”

“Oh, same as always. How is Mary this morning?”

“She’s doing fine. I let her sleep in today. The grandbabies were over yesterday, near bout wore the poor woman down. I’ll see you around lunch time. Hauling soybeans for the Henderson farm today.”

“Well, don’t be late. Serving fried chicken today and you know how quick it goes. But I’ll put a plate back for you.”

“I’d appreciate that Ms. Bonnie.”

The Mack truck had been built for work and not comfort. No A/C, no radio, probably wouldn’t have had a defroster if it wasn’t necessary. No cup holders either. Long ago Malachi had put a milk crate between the seats and had a spot in amongst the tools and rags and years of accumulated stuff where his coffee cup would sit. He settled the cup into its spot and settled into his spot in the cab of the truck. At some point in the past he had hot wired a transistor radio into the truck and kept it tuned to a local channel. He could only really listen while he was sitting, the little radio wasn’t loud enough to be heard over all the road noise that infiltrated the truck cab.

When he turned off the highway he could see there were already trucks lining up at Henderson’s grain bins. When he was younger he used to be first in line, but as the years piled on he just wasn’t in such a hurry. He figured he should still be able to get four loads out before the end of the day.

When his turn came, he pulled under the loading hopper and climbed down from the cab. They were an older style of hoppers, but then it was an old farm. No automation, no modern safety devices, nothing fancy. The equipment may have been outdated, but Mr. Henderson kept everything running smoothly and treated his workers well.

Malachi walked over to the little shack to check in while a farm hand started the loading operation.

“Well good morning Malachi, glad to see you running today. Maybe show some of these young folks how to do.” Mr. Henderson chuckled.

“Morning Mr. Henderson. I dunno, I’m slowing down a bit these days. What brings you out this morning?”

“Oh, just thought I’d take a break from the paperwork and see how the loading is going. This wasn’t our best year and I just want to make sure everything gets out smoothly.”

“Yessir, the floods were bad for a lot of folks. I pray the Lord’ll bless us though. Never know what He’s gonna do.”

“You know Malachi, I can always count on you to get me focused on what matters. Say, stop by the house before you head out for the day. I’ve got something to send home with you.”

“Well thank ya Mr. Henderson. I’ll stop by after I load up the last one. Planning on getting four loads out today, the good Lord willing.”

“Hey Malachi”, called the loader, “you’re ready to go.”

Malachi left the farm and headed for the processor. The plan was to get two loads before lunch and two loads after. Despite Mr. Henderson’s concerns, he had a much more successful crop than many other farms. With the other farms not doing so well, there was much less traffic at the processor than normal and Malachi had dropped his second load much earlier than planned. He decided he may as well get loaded one more time before lunch. It would be nice to get home early and surprise Mary.

Malachi took his place in line and waited. The old Mack truck idled away and Malachi turned up the radio. The radio DJ was talking about a local auction coming up Saturday. Malachi thought maybe he should haul five loads today so he would have a little extra money to take Mary to the auction.

“Hey, hey Malachi!” the loader shouted, “Pull on up Malachi!”

“Hey John, go check on him. Must be something wrong with his truck, or maybe the old man fell asleep.”

John could see Malachi through the windshield as he walked up. His head was down and he looked to be asleep.

“Malachi!” John knocked on the door of the truck. When there was no response he opened the door and climbed onto the step. He shook Malachi trying to wake him and realized that there would be no waking Malachi. He reached over and turned the key, shutting off the Mack truck and silencing the radio.

“Melvin, go get Mr. Henderson! Malachi, he’s dead.”

Soon the coroner and the sheriff arrived. After a quick examination of the body, they decided it was natural causes and loaded Malachi into the ambulance to take him away.

“Melvin, can you get his truck out of the way? I'm going to go with the Sheriff and talk to Mary.”

“Sure thing Mr. Henderson. I’ll take care of it.”

Mr. Henderson stopped by the store on his way out.

“Afternoon Ms. Bonnie, I’m going to fill up my gas.”

“Go ahead James, I’ve got the pump ready. Hey, have you seen Malachi? I saved him a chicken plate but it’s not like him to be late for lunch.”

“I’m afraid he won’t be making it to anymore lunches.”

“Oh Lord, what happened?”

“He was in line to get loaded, and well, they’re not real sure but they think his heart just gave out. I’m on my way to their house now to talk to Mary.”

The bell on the door jingled as it opened and the both of them turned to see the sheriff walking in.

“That won’t be necessary James. Just got a call in, one of the neighbors went over to check on Mary about an hour ago and found her lying on the floor. Coroner thinks it may have been heart failure, just like Malachi.”

“Lord bless ‘em.” said Ms. Bonnie, “Malachi always did say they never wanted to outlive each other.”

“Yeah, they were both good folks. Well sheriff, guess I’ll head on back to the farm. You gonna talk to their boy?”

“Yeah, I’m headed that way now. I’ll tell him the truck is at your place.”

“That’s fine, let him know there’s no hurry. And we’ll help out anyway we can.”