Finally, there was a dirt road that left all the bustle far behind.
It took them deeper into the hills. At times it felt like the little road led nowhere, and in a way it did. Because it led to the Creek itself. A valley no more than three hundred yards across, which housed a handful of families. Dirt poor and trash as all hell.
Along the way, Brad saw landmarks that reminded him of life here, before his tenth birthday.
Alex and him, climbing that tree. Building firecracker bombs and blowing the shit out of that postbox.
When Virgil stopped at Brad’s mother’s place, Brad figured it was best to be polite. He still wanted to crash at Virgil’s place, and thanking him for the ride would make him be more agreeable.
“I’ll see you later, Virgil.”
“Well alright then,” Virgil answered, answering proudly as if every word he uttered was profound.
Virgil drove off, leaving Brad outside his childhood home. Or half of his childhood, at least.
Here to see his mother, and that fire and brimstone preacher son of a bitch she had for a husband. And find out from them what exactly happened to his brother Alex. On their watch.
He stepped into the prefab and called, “Mom.”
“Oh dear!” her voice replied, and she came out. She was dressed in subdued colors, mostly grays and blacks.
They hugged. It was a lifeless, stiff hug.
Alex Keegan Senior, her asshole bible bashing husband, usually were the first to meet any visitors. But he didn’t seem to be around, it was just his mom, with her oversized, knob-like knees showing through her patternless dress.
Once upon a time that dress had been white. Now it had been washed almost through, and it was more like a sickly grey, semi-opaque.
Before Brad could ask where the son of a bitch was, his mom said: “The government took him.”
For a moment everything was very quiet. Brad processed the information.
“Can I get you something to drink? We just have Mountain Dew.”
Brad shook his head.
“No. It’s all good, ma. Let’s just sit down and talk for a minute.”
She sat down stiffly.
Brad sat down.
“Where is your husband, ma?”
“Police arrested him. Right after that McKay kid went batshit. He shot the hell out of that town. Killed all them poor faggots. Killed a whole bunch of regular folks, too. Whole hell of a bunch of people. Nearly burned the damn town down too. And then after that, police came by and said your brother Alex got killed along with them, too.”
Typical of the bitch. Not a word about him. Not a question. How you been? What’s next in your life. Instead she was doing what she always did. Whine.
She went on, but didn’t quite relax into the couch, which had seen better days. “Next two days, some federal government came back here with the police. FBI. They had a look around and then left. And then we thought the police was gonna go off too. But they went and they arrested the Pastor.”
She still called him that. Brad hated it when she did that.
“You can wince all you like, Brad.”
He did not expect that from her. She dared not speak like that to her husband, and she seldom pushed it around Brad too.
She continued though, given some sort of mysterious fucking courage. “I have suffered a lot. I don’t have nothing but home caught food. Haven’t had much else for a while. But I’m holding up. You were always a bad seed – but now I’m speaking to you as you mother. For whatever that’s worth to you. Thing is, I ain’t seen the Pastor since. And I found out something.”
Brad leaned forward and pulled up his shoulders – as if to say, well, what?
“I went to town, stayed with my sister. I walked my best shoes out at the courts and the police station, getting answers. My niece Alice has a boyfriend who is police. He got me some reports. Because I may just be a woman but I’m the only one in this house that ain’t either dead or in jail. I got my head turned on straight. I’ve always had my head turned straight. And I’m telling you I found out what happened to Alex. And it ain’t what the police is saying.”
Brad looked at her. He knew her, she knew him. She was being honest; she wasn’t just being emotional. She was levelling with him. She may be stupid, poor, classless, and a slut. But she was being honest.
“McKay. He went batshit. But it turns out, a few weeks before he did, he came to the Pastor’s church. Your brother Alex met McKay at church, and the two of them went finding snakes for the church service. They were friends. McKay was older than Alex, but Alex stuck around him. I met the McKay kid. Good kid, despite what he did. So I figured it’s a healthy friendship. God knows, there’s not much to do around the Creek.”
She was nodding, as if the point of her story was self-evident.
Just what he needed. A hillbilly conspiracy theory.
Brad was so smart. So powerful. So beautiful. So charismatic. As he sat there, he struggled with the idea that something so perfect could have crawled from that.
It was not self-evident, even to him. So, Brad said nothing and made no gesture either.
“McKay may have been crazy at the end… but there wasn’t no one in the world on his side. No one. I knew his daddy too, although he never came to church much. McKay killed a lot of people, but none of them were his friends. And it turns out, McKay isn’t dead. He’s alive. In a coma.”
“Still not connecting any dots, mom.” He needed her to speed up and make her stupid point.
“There were three men on that mountain that night. Alex. McKay. Both of them… gone. And a guy called Paul Draker.”
Brad repeated the name to himself.
Her face lit up when he said the name. Like her point was already made. But then came more words, spoken breathlessly and delivered almost as a single stream:
“Paul Draker is some sort of military. Some folks I know have kids in the army. And they say that he has some sort of compound up in town. Running training and stuff like that. Well, I read the report. Paul Draker was on that mountain. McKay ends up in a coma. No one asks who or why, on account of what he’d just done, doing that killing and all in town. Alex is dead. But on the mountain, not in town. They say because McKay killed him. Lotsa dead folks on the streets, and three people on the mountain. McKay, Alex, and Draker. Alex is dead. McKay in a coma. Make no sense that McKay killed Alex. Everyone he killed was down in the street. It wasn’t McKay that killed your brother Alex. It was Draker.”
Brad considered it.
Maybe it wasn’t a crazy conspiracy.
“I know one thing. Paul Draker was the one that killed your brother. Paul Draker is the one you’re gonna want to check up on.”
Brad nodded.
“Don’t you nod at me yet, Brad Jensen. Because I know I’ve made mistakes. But I’ve paid for each one of my mistakes. Three times over. And I know you loved your brother. But he was my son. So I tell you, Brad. I’ll tell you everything. And then I will ask a favor. And then, you can thank me, and you can go, or stay, or do what you have to do.”
Brad cocked his head. Paul Draker.
“He lives on his campground. Jenny at the bank says he owns a lot of land. A lot. He’s rich, like your side of the family. He’s a fag. He hangs out at Loveday with all the other queers and faggots. He is walking around town, free and clear. And your brother was a good kid. On that we both agree. I want you to remember your brother Alex every time you think of him.”
Mother and son stood up and hugged again. Again, to Brad, it felt stiff. She briefly rubbed across his back and he found the gesture touching.
Okay. That was the kin part done.
Chapter 9
“Two Friends Talking”
“Found a manager, and two for the floor,” Tina said before digging into the hamburger.
Pau
l and her had gone to a mall just north of Castleton to go eat fast food and have milkshakes. The thing about talking at the saloon, was that it was hard to have perspective. For Tina it had been her work and her life, for three decades. For Paul it was the place where, somewhere in all that mess, a boy became a man.
Tina’s Saloon felt like the heart of Loveday. With it gone, after June, and the kind of very reactionary and populist politics going down throughout the State – Loveday would be over. That is why Paul made the potentially expensive decision to buy Tina’s business as a running concern. He now needed to think about keeping the place sustainable. To run and support itself.
It was hard to switch to the mechanical thought processes of business and money when you were sitting in your High School home so they went to the Mall instead. And instead of talking the longer game, it seems Tina was in a rush.
“Yeah?” Paul asked with a smile. But with that orange mini-lake of Brimstone they made on his land, dealing with extra drama over the Tina’s purchase may be too much at once. He didn’t want to upset Tina. At the same time, he was constantly busy putting out fires and running around keeping lawyers at bay and businesses managed. He had all this money left to him, and all it seemed to do to him was make him serve it.
Or maybe he was looking for an excuse to go and walk in the woods by his own damn self like he really wanted. At least there, after thirty minutes, he can stop beating himself up about it. Considering how his solo fucking date night went, he might need to. Absolutely nothing happened – Paul might as well have stayed home.
Though that might have driven him crazy.
“Hey,” Tina asked. “You’re thinking at a million miles an hour. You okay, kid?”
“Sorry. I’m good. You found peeps already?”
“I did. It’s a lesbian couple. Friends of mine from back in the day. Old Steel Woolfs.”
“But you want to leave sooner.”
Tina was relieved that she didn’t have to say it.
“When?”
“Soon as I have ’em trained up. End of the month, maybe two. As soon as I can.” She pushed her plate away, cleaned her hands on a napkin and folded her arms before she went on. “I’m tired Paul. Not like I don’t have energy. In fact, I can feel myself become stronger every day. I think I may actually be recovering from the beating that little son of a bitch runt gave me. And since then… I don’t know… it’s like I haven’t felt at home in my own place since he beat me. I can’t do this anymore. I opened here in February of ’81 and I was nothing but a kid back then. I want to get on my Harley and go play bars. Knowing that lies ahead, it feels like I can’t get done with the closing up part soon enough.”
Paul nodded.
“What’s up though, kid. For a second there it’s like you were feeling a bit choked up.”
“It’s a lot of things.”
“You listened to me whine. Only fair if I return the favor.”
“I am a bit overwhelmed. I feel a bit angry too, and I’m not sure why. Not angry at you, just generally angry. I’m angry that little Keegan son of a bitch made you fear your own place. I’m angry that you had to take so many hits since the early days. Every anti-gay piece of legislation and every reactionary populist hitting you, and you getting hit on the chin. It pisses me off, that’s all.”
Tina smiled. “Yeah. But it ain’t just empathy, kid. I know you. You relate. And you always do this. You get angry for everyone else. You stand up for everyone else. You take care of business when sons of bitches dump their crap on your land, and when geriatric lesbians throw up their hands and leave early, forcing you to pick up everything. Tell me you’ve gotten laid.”
The crying came out of nowhere. One moment Paul sat there and the next, he had his face buried in his hands. Right there in public too. He couldn’t help it, though. He tried to cry quietly at least.
“Oh kid, I’m sorry. Hell, don’t listen to me…”
“I don’t mind if I never get laid again. What I don’t think I can manage is never feeling love again.” Paul wiped his eyes, pulled himself together and sat bolt upright.
Tina said nothing for a while.
“Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry. I sometimes shoot my mouth a bit. I guess I did make you feel a bit pressured. I’m sorry it’s just… you not loving someone, you not being loved, that would be a tragedy. And I’m worried that you never get to the you part, Paul. It’s always on a mission, and for others.”
“Sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”
“Please. I wish you cried some more. Looks like it will do you some real good.”
“I don’t know what is actually going on with me. Something. But I don’t know what.”
“Kid, it’s pretty simple from where I’m sitting. You left the military at the start of this year. You’ve been single since Reuben, and the military was your life. Then you came out here, landing in a freaking war zone the minute you got home. All of this, all of it – is a lot of change. Your whole world has changed, and you’re still adjusting. Telling you to get laid was the worst thing I ever said. Take your time. Don’t panic. Things will settle.”
That did make Paul feel better. Because it was true. What did he expect leaving one career and setting up a brand-new home in a city full of memories and a land full of memories and dreams? To end the fiscal with a husband, a Labrador, four kids and nineteen grandchildren?
“Thanks Tina. You’re right. It’s all new, not taking orders. I had no idea what to expect.”
“Growing pains. You either win or you learn.”
“Does it have to be so fucking pricey, though.”
Tina laughed. But Paul could tell she remained a bit concerned. That little sudden outburst of tears must have scared her as much as it surprised him. What the hell? Tough special forces dude, sitting and crying over burgers and milkshake.
“They are a great couple. They’ve been together since back then. They need a place to stay, they know the industry, and they have quite a few years left in them. I think they can run the place well, I trust them.”
“Sounds great. Anything you need?”
“Just know you don’t have to do everything, always. A lot of people care about you, Paul Draker. This place is better because you are here. And I really wish you would stop kicking your own ass so much.”
“Okay, enough of all this soap opera shit. Seriously. I’ve been all deep and meaningful and emo enough to last me a good while. Let’s get the bar stuff sorted. Talk numbers. Get the job done.”
Tina nodded.
“All good, kid. But promise me you’ll go chat to someone.”
“Chat to someone?”
“A psychologist. A counselor. A life-coach. A buddy. A mentor. Someone you can open up to regularly. It’ll help you see through the haze. Don’t be too macho top about everything, the pressure will take you down eventually. Promise me you’ll work on it.”
“Sure.”
“Sure ain’t a promise.”
“Okay. I promise.”
“Not once. A few times. I know you… you want to take walk through all of it and be operationally ready. Operation is over. Take care of you, now.”
“A few times. Scout’s honor.”
She tilted her head and stared intensely for a bit. But then they talked numbers.
Chapter 10
Old Man Keys
The Creek held about a dozen different households. Each house was a mishmash of wood, brick and prefab. The dwellings were far away from each other, and about half of them were occupied by relatives or descendants of the two senior Keegan brothers. Of the two, only Alex Keegan Senior was still around – although he was in jail right now.
He was known as the Pastor, and he had married Brad’s mother shortly after she fell pregnant.
The Creek was an isolated place. And poor in ways that most people from s
uburbia couldn’t begin to fathom.
Many of the folks couldn’t read. Nor could their parents. The children were skinny and ran around barefoot and often shirtless. Even girls would run around without their shirts on, beginning to cover up only when their breasts started showing. Those of them who went to school never got to take their schooling very far. And life up here was rough. The words summer and winter meant something – the walls were thin and many of the roofs had no or old insulation.
By the time the kids got to eighteen, most of them looked old.
This shithole was the place where Brad spent the first ten years of his life, and there was no love lost.
The one thing that brought him back here was his brother Alex. Now his mother declared some sort of hillbilly blood feud and that was likely to keep him here a while. He hated this place and he hated these people – but Alex was a kindred spirit that Brad had to avenge. His mother’s wishes would be fulfilled, but only because she lucked out – and her desires were in line with Brad’s – as far as Alex was concerned.
Pretty much the only good parts of growing up was hanging out with Alex. The little guy impressed Brad when he was just three years old. Brad had caught some frogs in the stream. He was cutting them up while they were still alive, watching the toddler for any reaction.
Alex’s first reaction was to laugh. He knew right there that the little guy was a kindred spirit.
And Brad also had his first sexual experiences right here.
Once, he fingerfucked a little girl who was staying at her uncle’s place for the weekend. The old man caught them… and Brad managed to run away before he could hit him. Old man Keys had a bad leg, held in place by rickety old braces.
There was some hell to pay over it. He was seven at the time and the Pastor beat him until he thought he would feint.
The old man kept a grudge. He never spoke to or acknowledged Brad for the rest of the time they both lived in the Creek. Everyone there called the guy Old Man Keys with a kind of reverence, due to the fact that he’d finished high school and was considered educated.
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