Wild Crows - 2. Revelation : english version

by Blandine P. Martin

  — "I spent most of the night at the precinct, " Jerry said, looking away from me.

  I understood that I didn't know the whole story. Mine had stopped after I had blacked out… just after Mack… dear Lord. Just thinking about it made me sick to my stomach, but no tear came to my eyes. I had cried so much that I was dehydrated.

  — "What happened? "

  My voice was only a whisper. I was afraid to hear the answer, but I needed to know the whole truth. My father winced and looked at me without saying a word. He put his coffee cup back on the counter and invited me to join him on the sofa. It made me feel uneasy. I watched him, as he sat down. He took a deep breath, and I saw in his eyes he was going back in time. From the expression on his face, I could tell it was painful.

  — "I had to collaborate with Sheriff Thompson, so she could write her report. "

  I didn't understand.

  — "What are you talking about? How did her men get into the slaughterhouse? "

  — "We went over everything. Gunshots, the body count…"

  — "Mack…"

  — "Mack, of course. But there were others."

  — "Who else? "

  I noticed my question made him uneasy, but I wanted the truth, the whole truth.

  — "You ought to know that none of Kasabov's men survived. "

  — "Kasabov… Was he the big boss? "

  He nodded, and I shivered just thinking about this man.

  — "And… what about him? "

  My father let out an angry grumble. He was still alive.

  — "It was the deal. The sheriff would participate in the operation, only if I spared this bastard's life. He's a big fish. Every cop in the country was after him. "

  I was listening to his words, but I felt overwhelmed.

  — "He'll be out of jail one day…" I whispered.

  I knew capital punishment was rare in California. Under other circumstances, I would have agreed with that view, but not anymore. My father grabbed my free hand, and he stroked my thumb.

  — "This day will never come. "

  I looked at him quizzically, but he kept silent. Still, I understood. He would take care of it. I should have been horrified, but this thought made me feel somewhat better.

  — "Mona will check on you later. "

  I nodded, feeling grateful to be treated with such kindness. It had been my choice to come and meet my father, and I felt responsible for what had happened. If I had chosen not to come to Monty Valley, all this would never have happened. My father's enemies wouldn't have been able to use me as a bait to get to him.

  — "I'm sorry, Dad, " I said, crying uncontrollably.

  He immediately put his strong arms around me.

  — "What are you talking about, sweetheart? It wasn't your fault… It was…"

  He didn't finish his sentence. Despite his reluctance to show his emotions, the atmosphere in the room was oppressive.

  — "We underestimated them. I should be the one to feel sorry, Joe. It's my fault… I can't tell you how sorry I am! "

  I heard him take a deep breath, and I was moved by the guilt he was feeling. I held him tighter, as hard as I could. Silence filled the room, as reality sank in. Death was all around us. After seeking comfort in each other's arms, I pulled back and looked at his tired face. Proudly, he wiped the tears which were rolling on his cheeks. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

  — "Mack's funeral will take place tomorrow morning, at eleven. He will be buried in the cemetery. "

  I let the information sink in, trying to push away the terrible images running through my mind.

  — "The club will not attend the ceremony, " he added in a grave voice.

  I gave him a killer look.

  — "He betrayed us, Joe. He betrayed his brothers. You and Ash could have died …"

  — "And we didn't… You know he acted this way because he was an addict…"

  I felt like crying again, and I hated myself for it.

  — "That is no excuse. "

  — "Mack killed himself! " I shouted, unable to control myself.

  My lip quivered. It was painful to talk about or remember what had happened. My father looked at me. Then he spoke in a very soft voice.

  — "Mack did what he had to, Joe. It might be difficult for you to realize it now, but later it will make sense. There was no other way. He was addicted. The club should have voted his termination…"

  Stunned, I repeated.

  — "« His termination»?"

  We looked at each other, and I saw compassion in my father's eyes.

  — "Yes, « his termination» Joe. No one can put our brothers' lives on the line and get away with it. "

  — "So you make your own laws? You decide who can live and who dies? " I said in an angry tone.

  Stung by my words, Jerry stood up.

  — "For god's sake, Joe, get real! We don't live in Lala land! You know what we do. I was honest with you! We take big risks. The only thing that keeps us safe is our dedication to each other. The club is also our family! If one of us consciously messes up, what do you think we should do? "

  It was like a slap in the face. My heart started to beat faster. I knew what he meant, and I had always been aware of how things worked. But under the circumstances, it was painful to hear it. On edge, I watched my father trying to control my emotions. His face and his voice softened.

  — "I am sorry, sweetheart. I didn't want to shock you… but you need to understand. Rules are rules, and all of us need to behave according to them. Mack knew them. I know we made some mistakes. Believe me, I know. But what is done is done. And we need to own it. The club won't go to the ceremony, but if you want to, you are free to say your goodbyes. Even after what he had done to you."

  I was speechless. The kidnapping, the blows, the drugs, the rape… it was all Mack's fault. He was responsible for the worst hours of my life. I should have hated him and be relieved he was dead. That was my father's opinion. Still, I was devastated. I couldn't forget the despair and remorse I had seen in his eyes, just before he pulled the trigger. He was also a victim. Maybe it didn't make sense, but I felt for him. When the only solution is to kill yourself, you have reached rock bottom.

  — "The sheriff may want to ask you some questions. I tried to talk her out of it, but it is the procedure. She has no choice. "

  — "OK, " I whispered.

  — "If you need anything, call me. And take all the time you need to get better. "

  He looked at me one last time, before kissing my forehead. Then he left. I drank my cold coffee, staring at the wall. The situation seemed surreal. My subconscious had a hard time dealing with reality.

  I went to the bathroom and stopped in front of the mirror. My heart skipped a beat. The blood drops on my face contrasted with my white skin. I had a hard time breathing. I realized it wasn't my blood! I turned on the faucet and hurried to clean them off. I couldn't stand to see them any longer. As I was splashing my cheeks with water, I felt devastated. I hurriedly took my clothes off and went straight under the cold stream of the shower. The cold water woke me up and cleared my mind. Then the water got warmer, but it didn't help to heal my heart. Violent images raced back through my mind, and I knew they would always be there. I started to shiver under the burning hot water, as tears started to flow on my cheeks. I wiped them. The traces of the torture these men had inflicted to my body would disappear with time. The scars would heal, and pain would go away. But I would always be afraid, and shame would follow me for a long time. As for memories, they would never disappear. They would be a part of me until the end. I would be marked for life. This wound, carved in my soul, would always remind me that death always won. No matter what we did, we were only its pawns and the Wild Crows, these untamed birds, would be its flying companions.

  CHAPITRE 7

  Joe

  I adjusted my blazer in front of the mirror. Dressed like this, I felt awkward. I was wearing the only dress I had. It was black and dul
l. I tied my hair in a messy bun. It was strange, but I felt good despite the sadness of the day. The last time I had worn this dress was when I buried my mom. It was two months ago. So many things had happened since then. I missed her so much. I had learned to live without her, comforted by the idea she was still living in my head and my heart. Grief would never go away, but I knew I would learn how to live with it and accept she was deceased. I put on silver earrings. I was ready to go. Why make all these efforts anyway? I still liked Mack despite everything that had been said about him and his incapacity to overcome his old demons. His mistakes wouldn’t erase the good I had seen in that man and all the meaningful conversations we shared. A part of me liked him. I envied the way he looked at life, at least before he became an addict. I didn’t want to remember Mack as I had seen him, just before he killed himself. This human wreck wasn’t Mackenzie. He was just a shadow of himself, devoured by his addiction to drugs. I took a deep breath, wondering about what was about to happen. If I didn’t walk out that door now, I would probably not find the courage to do it later.

  I grabbed my purse and walked through the door. I didn’t stop at the workshop and went straight to my car. A few guys were watching me, and I waved at them. They seemed surprised to see me, as I had stayed home for thirty hours without seeing anyone, except for Jerry and Mona. All of them knew what I had been through, and they had been told all the most horrific details. I sat behind the wheel and started the engine. They had their rules, but I had mine. My choice was none of their business, and it applied to my father. My conscience guided me, but I was extremely nervous.

  It only took me ten minutes to drive to Monty Valley cemetery. Visiting the grounds, where the dead citizens rested, felt strange. When I thought about it, I realized everything I had done since my arrival had been uncommon. When you lived with Jerry Welsh, your life became exceptional. I parked my Comet next to the flowerbeds and turned off the engine. I was feeling more and more nervous. Who would be there? Did Mack have a family? Was it all right for me to attend his funeral? I meant nothing to him, at least less than a few grams of coke. Why was I experiencing this feeling of resentment since this morning? It was probably fear. I was afraid to get out of the car and walk alone on these paths bordered by graves and fresh flowers. It would be intimidating to be among strangers and cry for a man I had only known for a few weeks. But there was more to it. I was also afraid to burst into tears in front of them or remember the horrible moments I had to experience because of him. I breathed in and out. Then, I counted to three to gather the courage.

  The car door creaked, and my black boots touched the ground. I observed the alley, but I couldn’t see any familiar car. I gathered my strength and walked up the path beyond the imposing wrought-iron gate. I had never experienced anything like it. I felt very lonely. I was walking without a friendly soul, holding my hand and my heart felt empty. I couldn't decide how I felt about Mack’s death or how it happened.

  A few mourners were walking in front of me, in a line. I decided to follow them, hoping there was only one funeral scheduled on that morning. A few yards away, I saw a grave surrounded by ten persons standing still. A wooden coffin, covered by a funeral wreath, was lying beside. My heart skipped a beat. I walked slower, but I finally reached it. I read the inscription on the marble plaque. For a moment, I thought I would faint. These words were engraved on it: « Rest in peace, Mackenzie Dougall, our beloved son 1980 – 2017 ». I looked up and realized that the woman in her sixties, who was wearing a black veil, must have been his mother.

  Mack had a family. I had never heard him speak about them, but then why would he have confessed their existence to me? I realized I didn’t know him that well. And still… I had learned a lot during the short time we had spent together. A priest walked in our direction. The funeral was about to begin. I stepped back and found a spot behind the people, who had come to say their goodbyes to the charming rebel Mackenzie Dougall. His crying mother was holding a young girl. Was she his sister? I wondered if he was close to his family. At funerals, people always looked sad, so it was difficult to determine the true nature of their relationship. I felt angry with myself for having these thoughts.

  The priest started his long monologue and named a few saints I had never heard of. The education I had received from my mother included old tunes from the sixties, and they empathized the values of peace and love. Religion was not part of our lives, so it was hard for me to follow this man’s speech. Given my emotional state, it didn’t matter anyway. I spent my time observing these people gathered to say goodbye to Mack, on that cold morning. Many were old. They were probably family members. I thought it was wrong not to see anyone wearing a leather jacket. Still, I had to accept it. It was their world and their rules. Then I saw him. Behind the group, I recognized the tall blond guy, watching the coffin, while he wiped a few tears. It was Gale. I walked to him hesitantly, as the priest was still delivering his religious speech. I stood behind the military-looking man, dressed in a suit that was too tight for him. I guessed it was not natural for him to wear these clothes. I wasn’t used to wearing high heels and a skirt either. But we had to make an effort for Mack. I put my hand on his shoulder and moved right next to him. We exchanged a look, and I felt his pain. I saw the surprise in his bright eyes. Then he nodded, probably to thank me. Instinctively, I took his hand. I knew nothing about Gale, except he had just got out of jail and he had been a brother to Mack. But at that moment, he became someone I could relate to. I wasn’t alone anymore, and I had the feeling he shared my thoughts and was relieved to have found me there — my presence made up for the absence of his brothers. We shared the same need to pay a tribute to one of our own.

  Many people cried around the grave. I thought about Mack’s mischievous and lively eyes. They were as clear as ice. I also remembered the way he shaved his tattooed head on the sides, leaving just a long blond braid on the top. He had a killer smile, a feline walk, and an unquenchable thirst for freedom. That was the man I knew, and it was how I wanted to remember him. I was determined to think of him this way, which would help erase the last moments of his life from my memory. I needed it.

  Taking turns, each person grabbed a flower on the marble slab and put it on the coffin. When my turn came, I ignored the persons staring at me and I thought about Mack. Then, I felt a presence behind me and smelled his best friend’s perfume. He wanted to support me and I was grateful to him for that. I exchanged a quick look with the woman who was probably his mother, then, I lowered my eyes. I felt for her and the other members of their family. Gale grabbed two roses and he handed me one. When we got closer to the coffin, he put his hand on it and closed his eyes.

  — "See you there, brother, " he whispered in a trembling voice.

  It moved me. Then, I put down the flower on the wooden surface and stroked it with my fingers. How could such a strong man be lying between four wooden planks? The pain was excruciating. In the distance, I heard the cawing of a crow. Then, I saw the birds fly away from the sequoias, and I became nostalgic, thinking about the crest embroidered on the jackets of the club’s members. I smiled.

  — "Until we meet again, Mack. "

  I moved, so the other persons could do pay their respects. Strolling, I met Gale, who had walked away. Without a word, we went back to the gate. The sun was shining, but the cold wind whipped my cheeks. Life would go on without him, and I had to live mine. I had to enjoy the second chance I was given. I had survived. I was alive. Then, I remembered Mack’s words.

  « It’s easy to learn how to live life to its fullest. We live many lives in one because ours will certainly be short and full of uncertainty... »

  I smiled. My companion seemed surprised. He gave me a quizzical look, and I stopped.

  — "I am sure he is laughing now, " I explained.

  Gale looked thoughtful. Then, he let out a small laugh.

  — "Yeah, you are probably right. "

  He walked me back to my Comet, and disappeared after thanki
ng me with a sincere smile. I sat in my old car, feeling better. In the distance, I heard the sound of a motorbike engine and looked in my rear-view mirror. Gale was still sitting on his bike, smoking a cigarette. But on the other side of the alley, another Harley was driving away. Its owner was wearing a Wild Crows jacket, and I recognized the driver’s untidy black hair.

  CHAPTER 8

  Joe

  I had never observed the different golden shades in a glass of whiskey. Depending on the angle from which I was watching the liquid, its color changed from golden brown to light brown. Fascinated, I cocked my head to have a better look.

  — "You know what, Riley…?"

  I looked up and watched the barman, who was trying to close for the night. I had never seen him before tonight, but during the few hours we had spent together, I had the opportunity to show him how much alcohol my young body was able to absorb. I felt a little bit sorry for this guy, who had to listen to my babbling all night long.