by Matt Hilton
Resistance fled Darrell.
‘Good. Now get up.’ Po retained his hold, despite how awkward it proved for them to stand. They got there though, with only a little blood coming from Darrell’s sliced lips. Po scrutinized what was going on at the head of the trench. He spotted Eldon, and Caleb, who had wrapped his arms around Jacob and held him against his chest like a swaddled baby. Tess had disappeared from view. Randolph crouched behind a truck, pointing a rifle at empty space. Panic surged through Po after spotting the latter but it was a momentary blip, because from the looks of frustration and concern on the Moorcocks’ faces they were the ones they deemed in immediate peril. Tess must’ve jumped into the trench to help Elspeth. He hoped so. He switched his concern from Tess to the boy.
‘Walk,’ he snarled in Darrell’s ear.
Darrell was arched at his lower spine, his head contorted on his neck. It made walking difficult. Po unhooked his forearm, but gripped Darrell’s collar. He slid the knife out from between his teeth, reinserted its tip in the hollow beneath his ear. It was no less a threat but the man could move easier. Po directed him towards his kin.
‘Hey! Dough Boy!’ Po ensured that the youngest brother easily saw Darrell’s plight. ‘Drop that rifle or say goodbye to your bro.’
Threats always came with the caveat that you must be prepared to follow them otherwise they lost their potency. When Randolph was slow to comply Po exerted pressure on the knife. Darrell yowled in pain and added his exhortations for Randolph to drop his weapon.
Randolph hadn’t the sharpest of minds, that or he couldn’t care less about his brother’s plight. He took cover on the far side of the truck, realigning his rifle so that he could get Po in his sights. Po twisted his captive to take any bullets first. At this range Darrell’s torso would slow but not stop a high-powered round. ‘I suggest you tell your little brother to behave,’ he told Darrell.
‘Randy for fuck’s sake!’ Darrell croaked hoarsely.
‘Put up your goddamn rifle!’ Eldon hollered at his youngest son.
Randolph’s mouth worked, but only so he could draw spit. He hawked out phlegm on the hood of the truck without taking his aim off Po. ‘If he hurts our Darrell, I’ll make him pay.’
‘We can make an exchange,’ Po called. ‘Darrell for Jacob.’
Caleb cocked his head over his son’s shoulder. ‘Are you for real?’
‘You want your brother to live, let Jacob go.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Let him go,’ Po repeated. ‘Let him go to his mother.’
‘And if I do?’ Caleb sneered at the notion. ‘Y’all just walk away and forget about us?’
‘No, Caleb, you know that isn’t going to happen. But at least then us men can fight it out without putting a kid’s life in danger.’
‘You’re some hot shit, Villere, huh? You think you’re man enough to take us all on?’
‘You’re less of a man who needs your father and brothers to help you in a fight, then?’
‘I ain’t afraid to fight you alone.’
‘So let Jacob go and face me.’
‘I said I am not afraid but why would I? I don’t have to do shit you tell me to.’
‘Then say goodbye to Darrell.’
‘Stick him again,’ shouted Randolph, ‘and I won’t have nothing stopping me from pulling this trigger.’
‘Yeah, well let’s see just what happens when I do this—’
Po stabbed Darrell through the neck.
That, at least, must’ve been how it looked to his brothers and father. In reality, Po, had struck his knee into the pressure point at the rear of Darrell’s knee, forcing him to collapse sideways with a squawk. In the same moment he’d turned the blade towards himself, but so he could ram his knuckles into the side of Darrell’s neck. The combined pain dumped Darrell on the ground, stunned and wondering if he was still alive. Po hurtled towards Caleb, leaving Randolph to his own fate.
Randolph saw his brother fall, and as dull as his brain was, his mind exploded in a flash of fury and grief combined, and it took him another second or two to return his eye to his rifle sights and to try to track Po. He fired, but missed. He sighted again. His brain fully engaged, he was unaware of the roaring of an engine or his impending doom until it was almost too late. In the final second he stood and twisted around, opening his mouth in challenge.
Pinky rammed an appropriated truck into Po’s would-be slayer, squishing the fat man’s thighs against the pickup he’d taken cover behind. The big truck that Pinky commandeered was larger and heavier than the one it pinned Randolph to like a bug. The smaller pickup was shoved into Caleb’s truck, and in turn all three juddered towards the edge of the trench.
Po saw Eldon fall down behind the trucks, albeit unharmed for now. He left the father alone, concentrating instead on reaching Caleb and Jacob. He had no view of Pinky, but trusted his friend to look after himself, and the fallen brothers.
‘Caleb!’ Po hollered.
The man plunged over the rim of the trench, trying to run from Po now he was alone. As he scrambled down the embankment, he lost his grip of Jacob and they spilled apart. Each landed in heaps at the bottom of the trench. Jacob had a bloody nose, but had otherwise survived the drop unhurt. Po stood with his feet braced at the top, glaring down at Caleb.
Caleb scrambled to grab Jacob again, except the boy was too spry. Jacob bounced on the balls of his feet while he avoided his father’s grasping hands. Po charged down the incline and set himself between them. He still held his knife. He deliberately sheathed it in his boot, never taking his gaze off Caleb.
‘You should have stayed in Maine,’ Caleb growled.
‘Wrong. You should have stayed behind your goddamn fences.’
Jacob moved and crouched by Po’s side.
Caleb seethed. ‘He’ll never be yours. He was and always will be my son.’
‘You don’t deserve to be called a dad,’ Po said.
‘You don’t deserve to live.’ Caleb drew a pistol from his belt and aimed it at Po’s gut. ‘What, you expected me to chase after you unarmed?’
‘You are the lowest form of coward there is.’
‘Shoot him, son, and let’s get this over with.’ Eldon Moorcock peered down into the trench. His mustache bristled as he goaded his son to murder. ‘You saw what he did to your brothers. He stabbed Darrell; he crushed poor Randolph’s legs. Kill him. Kill him good.’
‘I did neither of those things,’ said Po.
‘Kill him all the same,’ Eldon barked.
‘Sure, Pa, just watch.’
Caleb brought the pistol up a few inches so it aimed directly at Po’s heart.
A scream of denial split the air.
It was Jacob, in a mad rage. He screeched an elongated ‘Nooooo,’ even as he unfurled and sent a surprising missile hurtling at Caleb. It was one of the full water bottles that had slipped from Po’s pocket. It was small payback for what his father had put his mother through, but it was the best he could do.
Caleb ducked the bottle, but it still struck his shoulder, exploding and knocking aside his gun arm so that the bullet intended for Po drilled the embankment behind him. Po didn’t wait; he sprang at Caleb, one hand snapping down on his wrist, one sinking fingers into his throat. He churned through the dirt as he drove Caleb backwards. Caleb repeatedly pulled the trigger, and bullets shot for the sky. Po’s fingers remorselessly closed around his trachea, squeezing the curses out of him.
Locked in battle, Po had no idea of what was going on at the rim of the ditch, but two desperate dramas were played out there too …
Darrell, recovered from the blow to his neck, had regained composure. He stumbled to the edge of the trench, intent on helping his brother, but behind him Pinky loomed, having alighted the stolen vehicle. Pinky could have shot him dead, but he didn’t. Instead he wrapped Darrell in a bear hug and hauled him off his feet. Darrell struggled, trying to batter Pinky with his elbows, and kicking backwards to bark his shins. ‘I’l
l kill you, you goddamn nigger,’ he swore savagely.
‘Seriously? That’s all you can come up with, you? Are you freaking kidding me?’ Pinky tossed Darrell from him in disgust. Darrell cartwheeled, spinning through vacant space until he landed in a graceless heap at the bottom of the trench. Dust clouded around him, but he didn’t stir …
On the opposite side of the trench, Eldon clutched his hands in futility as he watched Darrell get hurled like trash into the ditch. His gaze darted to the pile of stones heaped at the edge of the trench. He scrambled towards them, intending using the missiles to pelt Po into submission and allow Caleb to gain the upper hand. He went to his knees in the dirt, grasped for a chunk of ragged concrete, and felt Tess’s pistol touch him at the nape of his neck. ‘If you know what’s good for you, you’ll put that down,’ she warned.
‘No woman tells me what to do,’ Eldon snarled and tried to slap away her gun.
‘Yeah. Keep on telling yourself that, you misogynistic pig!’ Tess brought down the butt of the gun on the nape of his neck. Eldon collapsed face down in the pile of rubble.
Beside Tess Elspeth stood. She didn’t spare Eldon’s downfall more than a second’s notice. She barely gave Caleb much more attention, only noting how Po had crushed her husband against the embankment. His gun had fallen from his weakened fingers while Po continued squeezing the life out of him. The only thing important to her just then was Jacob. He scrambled up the embankment, crying out to her in the voice of a child five years or younger than his actual age …
In that instant Po’s mind was a void in which a single light flared; the light was the embodiment of his existence, he had one reason only to live, to avenge Caleb’s victims. He’d shaken the gun out of Caleb’s grasp, and had practically crushed the bastard’s windpipe, but he continued squeezing. The bones in Caleb’s wrist resisted him marginally more than his neck did. Caleb flopped now, with no resistance left in him. He could no longer make a discernible word; he was seconds from death. Po’s senses returned to the moment, the magnitude of what was about to happen avalanching through his brain. He snapped open his fists, allowing Caleb to sink back against the embankment, and stood over him, breathing raggedly. He had killed before and had come close to slaying again. He shuddered the entire length of his body.
It was probable that Caleb had been unconscious, and for the past fifteen seconds or more had no concept of his battle with Po. To him he was still engaged in the life or death tussle. He emitted a strangled shriek, and with neither forethought nor clear intention he kicked out and found Po’s swollen knee. In its weakened state, Po’s knee collapsed and he fell against Caleb and the fight was on again: round two. They grappled for dominance. Caleb was bigger and heavier muscled, but Po had drained most of the vitality out of him. Sapped of strength, he had no appetite for a prolonged fight. He broke free and scrambled for where Darrell lay unmoving in the dirt. He shook and slapped Darrell, trying to rouse him, and was rewarded by a pained moan: Darrell was in no shape to help him.
‘You’re done.’ Po rubbed at his sore knee as he limped after Caleb. ‘Have some dignity and accept defeat.’
‘I’m a better man than you!’ Caleb’s face was lit with insanity. ‘I’ll show you, you piece of crap.’
‘I’m not a child or a woman half your size for you to bully. Trust me, Caleb, I’ll beat your head like a drum if you keep this up.’
‘No, I’ll take your hide and make a fucking drum skin out of it!’
Caleb twisted towards Po, snapping aloft a knife he’d taken off Darrell’s belt. Unbeknown to either, it was the same knife Darrell had disemboweled Orson Burdon with. He lunged at Po’s midriff, and as unsteady as he was, Po had little chance of evading the blade.
A chunk of concrete struck Caleb. It whacked into his exposed ribs and in reflex his elbow recoiled. The knife missed Po by inches. Caleb yowled – the concrete had cracked a rib – and he blinked up at the rim of the trench. Over him stood Elspeth, Jacob, Tess and Pinky. Each had armed themselves with more stones. It would’ve been sweet revenge for Elspeth to toss another rock, to punish Caleb in the manner he’d planned killing her, but Po took away the opportunity. He lurched forward on his wobbly knee and kicked Caleb’s head with such singular ferocity it was a miracle his neck didn’t snap.
Po clambered up the embankment. Elspeth hugged Jacob, but the boy pulled loose and stood before him. The kid’s nose was bloody and he was covered in dust. ‘Sorry you had to watch me do that to your daddy,’ Po said.
‘It was nothing to what he has done to my mom. He deserves to be hurt worse.’
‘He’s still your father, Jacob.’
‘I know. But I stopped him from shooting you.’
‘You sure did. I’m indebted to you, son. That trick with the water bottle probably saved my life. You ever need anything, and I’ll be there for you. D’you understand what I’m saying? You need only ask, y’hear?’
Jacob nodded, and accepted a bump from Po’s knuckles on his.
Tess took hold of Po’s hand and squeezed it. They turned to the sounds of movement. There were people all around them. Some held weapons, some of them military grade assault rifles. Nobody used them. Eldon Moorcock was stirring and Tess went to stand over him, keeping him under guard with her pistol. He awoke slowly, his vision foggy at first. Suddenly, it was as if Tess was thrown into stark clarity, and Eldon gasped, expecting another bash around the head with her gun. His gaze darted, seeking allies, and he spotted a man nearby. ‘Decker,’ he croaked, ‘you have to help me. Shoot this bitch!’
Tess checked out the man facing her. Was this the same Decker who’d accompanied Caleb to Portland, and who had assisted in the kidnapping? She thought it was the same man. He looked cowed, in the knowledge that he was in serious trouble. The rifle hung forgotten in his hand.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Eldon bellowed. ‘Help me, Jer. I swear to you, if you don’t do as I say—’
Decker dropped the rifle in the dirt and walked away.
Other members of his community turned their backs and walked away too. The tyrannical reign of Eldon Moorcock and his sons had ended.
AFTER
The sound of water rushing over the falls had become so familiar that Tess rarely noticed it any more. She fully believed though that – should the Presumpscot River ever dry up – the silence would be so sudden it would be deafening. She noticed the river now, as well as the breeze rattling the leaves in the treetops. She noted the grumble of Po’s Ford Mustang, where he’d left it running with its hood up. After leaving it standing in the elements for several days he’d driven it back from Pinky’s place and immediately set to the car’s maintenance routine that’d been put off. Having worked on the car, Po had retreated from the car to rest a while. He was seated on the porch swing, kneading his aching knee. After their return from out of state Po had visited a clinic: the prognosis on his knee was not ideal, but better than the alternative. He had hurt his anterior cruciate ligament, torn his cartilage, and there was localized inflammation, but with rest and treatment he should heal without surgery. For the last few days Tess had encouraged him to alternate hot and cold therapies on the swollen joint, until Po had grumbled he didn’t have time for all that Voodoo mumbo-jumbo. Now he only massaged it when it was sore, but the caveat being he didn’t complain about the pain in earshot of her. When he saw her, he stopped rubbing and sat back in the swing.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Fine,’ he lied.
‘Take some more painkillers.’
‘Don’t need them.’
She sat beside him and settled her hand on his injured leg. ‘To think I was worried you’d broken your ankle,’ she said, and gently massaged his knee.
‘My ankle was only twisted, and maybe a little gnawed on by that mutt, but otherwise it’s fine.’
‘Things could’ve turned out much worse than they did.’
‘You can say that again.’
Elspeth had been mere seconds aw
ay from death. A single stone, striking her in just the right spot, could have ended her life in an instant. They were fortunate to have arrived in time to intervene. Tess still winced at what she’d borne witness to: lapidation, or the stoning of a person was horrifying to see, an ancient form of punishment that should not exist outside the pages of the Old Testament. Sadly the stoning of alleged adulterers still happened in what should be a more civilized, more enlightened world. Elspeth had been pummeled but her injuries were superficial, scrapes and bruises mostly, and nothing she hadn’t contended with for more than a decade since falling under Caleb’s thrall.
They sat in companionable silence for a while.
‘My knee isn’t as sore as Randolph Moorcock’s must be,’ Po said with a chuckle.
‘Pinky sure did a number on him with that truck,’ Tess said, and also laughed at the memory. She felt no guilt at her dark pleasure, because she’d later learned that Randolph was a murderous piece of crap who’d shot dead Orson Keeler Burdon with his own bow and arrow. Had he gotten his way and Pinky failed to stop him, he’d have shot Po dead too.
There was a part of her that still shied away from vigilantism, but having been partnered with Po for the last few years, she didn’t view it with the same jaundiced eye as she had when she had been a cop. Randolph Moorcock deserved every minute of agony he’d endure before his shattered legs were fixed, and she only wished that his brothers and father had suffered similar levels of agony. When Pinky tossed Darrell head over heels into the trench, the impact had knocked him unconscious, but he’d gotten away with his crimes with a few bumps and bruises, and the snapped clavicle courtesy of Po. Eldon had a sore head from where Tess struck him, and Tess had learned that another member of the family, the abusive matriarch Ellie-May, had never quite regained her faculties after Elspeth knocked her down for beating Jacob. As for Caleb, Po’s final kick had broken his jaw, and it was the least payback he deserved for the pain he’d put his victims through. True vigilantism might have found all the family slain and dumped in Booger Hole alongside the vengeful ghosts of their victims, and there was part of Tess that would be satisfied with their fate, but then, they all faced life imprisonment so she wouldn’t complain.
