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CHAPTER TWO
C R A S H  I N T O  M E
CASEY’S TALE
 

 

AUGUST 13TH, 2045  MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

Cold rain pelted on the black umbrella and dripped back on the old man’s trench coat. The Yellow Taxi he hailed down pulled up to the curb. If it weren’t raining dogs and cats, I would’ve just walked. Taxis remind me of too much. That I’m not allowed to drive anymore, Casey Jones thought, slowly sliding into the back seat. With a rasp in his voice, he told the young driver where to go. Casey briefly brushed the raindrops off his silvery crew cut and sat back.

The ground traffic around them on the congested NYC street came to a standstill, only the aircar traffic above going at any continuous pace. There was an accident in the intersection. Casey looked at it once, then looked back down. It was a bad hit, as if someone failed to yield. He focused on the sound of the windshield wipers frantically whirring back and forth. The sheets of rain hitting the roof, however, would drown out that noise.

Sounds…all the sounds…

Casey’s wrinkles on his face increased when he squinted his eyes. The memories, the pain, and the screams of a past accident rush in on his senses nonetheless. His accident… his fault. The crunching, grinding, moaning of metal colliding… the flashing red sirens and the human cries, it all still burned in his memory, even though he was intoxicated at the time. Damn, I don’t need these memories now.

They didn’t deserve to die, the young mother and child. It was like the punk he unintentionally killed years before. Almost.

Except this accident was unquestionably Casey’s fault. He drove drunk and out of control. The judge permanently suspended his license and sentenced Casey to six months in jail. After a month, April managed to bail him out.

That scenario was almost twenty-five years ago. Ever since, Casey promised her he’d kept his boozing—and his temper—more under control. Nonetheless, she insisted he get some psychiatric help if he wanted to keep her as his wife. She hated to she him in such volatile states.

To some extent, it made him understand the why, how, when…? When did the poison in his blood get the best of him? Was it Shadow’s involvement with the gangs? She left as soon as she turned eighteen to learn more about her real family. He heard he mention the Turtles every now and then too. More like Shadow packed up and left, giving him or April little notice. Then April started doubting Casey as being a good father. They had their own child, a son. A good kid, whom April accused of never being around for. He’s thirty-five, married, and doing well now, despite… Casey looked out the raineaked windows with a frown.

The Turtles…damn, it was thirty-five years since last I knew of them. Thirty-five years since Raphael stopped by, immensely distraught, to say goodbye. April told him Mike visited her a few days later, also to say farewell. That was it.

Casey often wished he and Mike had stopped Raph from going in that lab. He could sense the wrongness like an oncoming sneeze. He knew something was up, ever since his apartment was trashed for no reason whatsoever by those DARPA officers posing as FBI authorities. He should’ve kept them out after the Foot kidnapped Shadow. For their own safety. The memories are now faint, but he still felt for the loss of Splinter. The last words Raph spoke, ones that Splinter often told them, worked their way from his fading memory…

God… the outside world will never understand us. That’s why I’m going. I-I’m too dangerous for the others… not safe here, the words echoed in Casey’s head.

Casey decided to put them out of his life then, as they chose to leave him out of their own. I will never fully understand them, Casey sighed. May never see them again, if they are still alive.

The present problem comes back to Casey again. His eyes are going bad. He sees spots, if anything at all. April once set up an appointment so he could get them checked. The doctor told him the retinas were tearing. He offered all kinds of solutions, operations, and the like. Unfortunately, they were all very expensive for Casey. Too expensive. He was left to make a decision. The thought of going blind startled him. He would not be able to see what good was left in the world, namely his wife and children. Been hit on the head too many times… he tried to cheer himself up, but it was no good. More memories followed that thought.

The taxi pulled up to a curb. Casey gave him his tab and left with a gruff "thank you." He popped open his umbrella, giving the towering skyline a quick glance. Every now and then, he’d heard others mention a "turtle-man" in Chinatown. It had to be one of them—Leonardo perhaps.

Maybe… maybe he should look him up at least. Before his eyes go completely, or he has a coronary from the medical bills. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, those four helped shape his life, for the better and the worst.

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