SYLVIA
Anything.
BILL
When I was seventeen, I dropped acid for the first time.
SYLVIA
Oh, this is going to be good.
BILL
Me and some friends built a bonfire out in the desert, and we all did it. I had heard of people seeing things, hallucinations and stuff, but I always thought it sounded so silly. I always figured, if you knew that you were on drugs, then you could just ignore whatever you saw, right? Anyway, I was feeling great sitting around the bonfire with my friends. Then I looked over to the left.
Her mother was crying now, but she tried to focus on Bill.
BILL (CONT'D)
There was this huge prickly-pear cactus, taller than me, and it began to sway back and forth. Then I saw fish swimming through it.
SYLVIA
You know, all the things I've done, I've never tried LSD.
BILL
When you try it for the first time, don't do it around cactus, because I dove in and went for a swim in it.
SYLVIA
Holy shit! And you lived?
BILL
Obviously. I didn't even feel anything that night actually. Then in the morning, I woke up sitting in a recliner, and screamed. I had cactus needles in, literally, every part of my body. My balls, ass, and even in my mouth and eyelids.
SYLVIA
That is so terrible.
BILL
I had some cool friends though. They helped pull the needles out of me for hours.
SYLVIA
Drugs or not, I can't believe you would be that stupid.
BILL
Well, believe it, Baby. Kids, don't do drugs.
She didn't hear his public service announcement. Her brain felt heavy. Her vision spun. Her heart rose up in her throat, and she watched it leave her mouth and float up into the cobwebs. Her panic was taking her over.
SYLVIA
I can't lose you now.
She could no longer keep her tears a secret.
SYLVIA (CONT'D)
We need to make it through this bullshit, because I know what I want in my life now. Forget the stupid job, the pills, everything else. I'll pay taxes and be a secretary or something. I don't need anything except how I feel when we are together.
BILL
Hush. Hush now. You don't have to give up any of those things. You have a vice grip on the scrotum of the planet, and that's what is amazing about you. No matter what, you're going to continue to amaze. Stop talking like you would give up the world for just one more wish.
She cried more, and Bill let her. She had never shed so many tears. She tried to grip his hand in hers, but found that she couldn't feel anything at all in her fingers.
* * *
They heard a sound from the front of the house. It sounded like a vehicle, but if it was, it had come from quite a distance. Sylvia may have heard a car door shut, but she couldn't be sure.
Everyone stayed quiet and still, all four sets of eyes trained on the front door. The windows had been blackened with paint, so they were no help. The silence was deafening.
Sometime later, maybe just minutes, there was a louder commotion out front. This time, it was definitely vehicles driving up. Loud ones with diesel engines. Then there was the sound of men yelling. Even with the rotted walls, it was still difficult to make out what was said, but she was sure that there were a lot of people out there.
They squirmed; all of them trying to get out of their bonds. They wanted to aid in their own rescue, but the wire and ties did their job.
The yelling outside continued, sometimes morphing into an inaudible chant. There were gunshots, and several of the men were definitely in an intense argument. Then the sound of the back door opening drowned out everything else, and at the same time, Sylvia thought that she could smell smoke.
FIFTY THREE
Despite the all-terrain qualities of the colossus that he was driving, his body still bumped into the side, his head still hit the roof, and every bone in his body felt the impact of the rocky path. This was actually the third such path that he had taken. The locals had failed to inform him that the road heading out of town was littered with them. The others both came to dead ends, and he could only hope that this one didn't do the same.
He had driven right past this path at first. The grass had grown so thick he could barely see the gravel below. When he looked closer, he could see where a vehicle had matted the grass down recently, so he followed the tracks.
He wasn't sure now how the Civic could have made it through this way, as his Hummer was having a hell of a time pulling it off. The jostling had caused him to bleed more, and his bandages were getting soaked. A wet spot of red had already appeared on his shirt, and he had a quick bit of remorse for what he was doing to the seats of Love's new toy.
He slammed his foot down on the brake pedal when he rounded a bend and saw a vast lake through a thick grove. After he drove a little further, around more of the dense trees, he saw the house. Just by the look of it, he knew it was the right place. The locals were right, it wasn't much more than a shack, and it was the very definition of the word dilapidated; a blemish on an otherwise perfect view.
Harry could see the Honda parked out front, though the tall grass was almost enough to hide it. He coasted the Hummer in as best he could, only revving the engine when he completely lost momentum.
He parked a decent distance away. He would have liked to park further, but he didn't think that he could make the walk. He hopped clumsily down from the vehicle and then failed miserably to close the door quietly behind him.
What's the plan, Harry? You don't have one, do you?
He crept closer to the house, ready to crouch out of sight if he detected any movement.
Oh and that would work because the giant blue Hummer would do the same?
When he made it to the corner of the house, he leaned on it to catch his breath. Just his weight pressed against the old wood caused it to buckle and crumble. Around the back, he could see that an entire old tree was actually leaning against the house.
He slowly peeped through the windows, but he couldn't see anything, but darkness. He stood there, ear against the window, hoping to catch a sound. His mind tried desperately to formulate a plan.
Then, the noise of his failed door closure was no longer an issue.
The rumbling of vehicles in the distance started as a whisper, but grew louder by the second. As they got closer, Harry could make out the individual sounds of engines, guessing that there was at least four on the way.
When they came around the bend of trees, he saw that he had underestimated their number by two. All six were some manner of truck, with purposely-loud engines, and each had a bed full of gristly men shouting and pumping their fists and guns in the air.
Harry checked behind him to see if anything was stirring in the house, but still he saw nothing.
The trucks scattered in a haphazard arc, and the men sprung from their beds. None of the drivers bothered to kill their motors, and some even revved their engines in a loud hello. The scene felt like a post-apocalyptic dick measuring contest.
Then several men shot their guns into the air. Harry had to get them under control, but had no idea where to start. He held up his arms and waved them frantically, and to his amazement, the frenzy actually calmed a bit.
“Please cut the engines!” he yelled.
All but two trucks complied, and then the man that stood behind the counter at the general store, John, walked out of the crowd and stood near Harry. He held up his hand calmly, and the rest of the crowd hushed itself completely.
“These boys won't stay quiet for long,” John said. “He in there?”
“Yes. Well I think so. He has four hostages. There is no telling what effect all of this noise has had on the situation.”
“Well, we'll get him, but I'll be straight with you. I don't think any of these boys have any plans of taking him alive.”
“My concern is not
with him, but with the family inside. If you don't control this mob, they're liable to get killed too. Where's the sheriff?”
“Jed went to go fetch some more cops from a town over, just like you asked. But you just stand aside now.”
“No! We can't do that. If we storm in, he may kill the family. You have to let me try and communicate with him,” said Harry.
The crowd shouted, “Fuck that!”
And, “Fucker's gonna pay!”
And, “We are gonna kill that asshole!”
The mob rule was in fast effect. Several beer bottles flew at the house, one of which splashed in the puddle on the roof, drops of which rained down on Harry and hit him in the eye. When he cleared the muck away with the edge of his shirt and looked back at the crowd, several men had torches in hand, and they were passing them around to light more.
“Stop! You can't!”
John said, “Well, Sir, I believe this is already out of my control. I suggest you back up and hope for the best.”
Shouts of, “Burn it down!
Screams of, “Kill that fucking monster!”
Was there no injustice in this?
Harry ran up the wooden steps and tried the doorknob. It turned, yet the door remained in place. Harry looked back at the crowd, no longer seeing men, but instead, a pack of rabid animals. He did his best to use his shoulder to open the door, but each knock threatened to blacken his eyes.
The torches were all passed out, and just as Harry said, “Please don't do this,” three of them were flung through the air. Two flew overhead, most likely striking the roof, another landed just to his right in a patch of thick grass. It lit up almost instantly.
Harry banged against the door again, harder this time, his body folding like an accordion. Then again, blood splashing from his shoulder now. On the third, the door swung open. Smoke was already emanating from within. Harry backed up several paces to see that nearly the whole roof was on fire.
Harry could just make out bodies lying on the floor, though he didn't know to what degree they were alive.
He turned to John, “Give me your shirt. You won't get it back.”
John shed it and handed it over. Harry wrapped it around his head. He held the end of one of the long sleeves, and then swung the shirt up over the roof as much as he could. When he brought it back down again, about a third of the shirt was covered in wet muck. That would have to do. If he were quick and lucky, maybe it would be the only thing to burn. He took a deep breath, and before he could over think the situation, bolted through the doorway.
The Kirkmans lay in front of him, the wife coughing and the husband still. To the right was the man that Robert had forced to help. He was wrestling with a large piece of wood that had fallen on his leg. Above Harry was a cloud of thick smoke, and he could feel the flames reaching down for him.
He went to help the man. The wood was smoldering, but not actually on fire. With one voracious heave, they were able to toss it aside. There was a lot of blood, but the man claimed that he could still walk.
“Where's Robert?” Harry asked.
“I don't know. He took Sylvia and ran out the back. Just when I got my hands untied, this thing fell on top of me.”
“We have to get the parents out.”
A chunk of the roof caved in, fiery debris spilled to the floor, and sent embers across the entire house; the bulk of it landing just inches from the Kirkmans. Harry ripped at the father's bindings, trying to separate the two of them.
“Get the mother,” Harry shouted, and the man helped her to her feet. She was coughing uncontrollably, and fell to her knees several times before the man was able to get her out the front door before it too crumbled in on itself.
Harry grabbed the father's arms and dragged him as quickly as he could, trying to avoid the fire that was flicking across the floor. It took more strength than he had, but he did it anyway. When he dropped the father down to the grass behind the house, he yelled out. Then he doubled over and vomited, the small amount of blood that accompanied the bile didn't go unnoticed by Harry. John came running around the house, and seeing the father, began CPR.
It's a hillbilly miracle.
Harry passed out.
He woke again to coughing. The father had been brought back from the brink. Harry must have only blacked out for a few moments. Trying his hardest, he managed to sit up. The man who had helped him stood next to John.
“What's your name?” asked Harry.
“Bill.”
“Thank you for your help, Bill.”
“No Sir. That was all you. We have to get Sylvia back, though. I can't lose her to that psycho,” Bill said, then fell to his knees. He had inhaled a lot of smoke, and Harry could see that he was trying to hold it together for the girl, but there was no way he could help now. When Harry looked closer, he saw that Bill was holding his leg. Harry kneeled down beside him, and when he moved the man's hand, he could see the tip of bone that had broken the skin. It was astonishing that he found the strength to drag himself and the mother out safely, let alone move at all.
“I'll get her. I promise you that. Which direction did they go?”
Bill pointed left past the lake. Harry didn't see much at first, but then, off in the distance, he saw them. Robert had Sylvia across his shoulder, and he had a hell of a lead. John saw them too, and held his shotgun out to Harry.
“That won't do. I need something with aim.”
John pulled a handgun from the back of his belt. Colt 45.
“That'll work. Get these people to the hospital. I know that you don't have one, but get them there anyway. Make some calls. The smoke is going to kill them.”
“I've already called Jed, and he called Milwaukee. A 'copter is on the way. Along with the cavalry. I don't think we can wait, though, we need to get that fuck now.”
“No. God, no. You've done enough. Just help these people. I'll not let you and your boys put that girl's life in danger again.”
“OK,” John said, his will to argue diminished.
“When the Milwaukee cops get here, you send them in that direction.” Harry said, pointing at the quickly vanishing murderer in the distance. Soon he would reach a line of trees, and Harry wouldn't be able to see them at all. He prepared himself for what was next. He had no idea how he was going to manage to catch up to them, but he would find way. He had to.
“One more thing,” Harry said. “There is a woman. A wonderful woman… in the Kirkman house. She… She was killed. I need you to go over there and take care of her. It makes me sick to know she's just lying there.”
“I'll send someone over there right now,” John said.
“Whoever you send, make sure they know… Make sure they take really good care of her.”
John nodded, and as quick as his body would allow, Harry headed toward the woods.
FIFTY FOUR
The more he tried to find his center, to calm his confusion, the more the pain bloomed within him. He was rubbing his arms now. He knew that the pain was right there, just under the skin. He almost got to it before. Almost.
He extended his fingers outward and ran the nails down his left arm. Blood welled below the tip of his ring finger. He was always perplexed by the sight of his own essence. It was the same as everyone else, yet it contained no energy.
He dug deeper. He could feel his sinewy, warm muscle tissue below, and eventually the rigidity of his bones. The blood was rampant, yet the pain continued.
He heard the noise then. Loud and grating. Car engines and gunshots. Someone had come to take his family away. He felt fear. He hadn't felt the sensation often, and it gave him pause. He feared his family would be taken, but most of all, he feared that his family may not have been what he needed.
He ran to the back door, nearly falling. He wasn't used to moving at such a speed. Then he saw the fiery light hit the roof. The smoke was billowing black by the time he got inside.
His family was coiling on the floor, wiggling, trying to escape the fire.
They had fallen to their sides, the four of them, and he could sense their fear. He could not save them all. He knew he must leave them to whatever lay on the other side of that door, or to the flames above, whichever came first. A sacrifice, so that he and his sister could be together. He untied her hands from the beast of a man she was with. That man was not a sacrifice, but an offering.
His sister screamed. A loud, shrill sound that pummeled his ears like hail. He hit her then. He had no choice, so he felt no regret. She would remember not to make a sound from now on. He had to drag her away. Her eyes had closed and her body drooped. A thin haze of smoke had seeped into the house, and exiting the back door was a relief to his lungs.
His sister had come back to life, and she had not remembered her lesson. She was about to make that noise again, but he put his hand across her mouth and threw her over his shoulder. She would come to love him as a brother, and as a man. Time was all they needed, and he was a patient person.
It didn't take long to reach the tree line. He looked back at the house and saw it was more flame than anything. He also saw the outline of that man. The one who was trying to break him and his family apart. He had thought him dead, yet still he persisted.
He lamented the sacrifice of his parents, but had no time to stop. That man would surely come after him.
Deeper in the trees, he released his sister's mouth. She made no sound.
She was learning, after all.
FIFTY FIVE
Harry had gotten far enough into the trees that he could no longer see the fire, but could still smell the smoke. He could also smell the fresh water of the lake on the breeze, but couldn't see the lake, either. He heard the commotion of the men and their trucks for a little while as he approached the tree line, but even before he got into the woods, they had gone. Now, all he heard was the wind in the trees and the rustling of leaves, all deceptively serene.
Strawberries Page 24
