Bringing Home The Rain: The Redemption of Howard Marsh 1 (The Jubal County Saga)

by Bob McGough

  I leaned against the corner of the trailer as the man got out of his vehicle, trying to look nonchalant. He’d parked the truck at the edge of the yard, pulled just off the road onto the grass. The engine still ran, but the reverend had killed the lights. He had the rifle in his hands. “What say you just get back in that truck and drive on,” I called out.

  Hatty froze, his eyes locked on me. I could see him gripping the rifle tightly in his hands, but as yet he didn’t raise it up. Which was good, seeing as I had no weapon whatsoever. I shoulda taken more drugs, but I wasn’t thinking my most clear. I’d already started calling up the power, but there was only so much I could do.

  “I know what you done to Inez. I sent it, heard it from the moon, your little baptism. And I got to say, fuck you and everything about you. And I know it was my fuckup that you even heard about these kids here, so I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to them.” I rolled my neck hoping it would pop ominously, but no dice. I did stand up from my practiced lean and straightened my shoulders.

  “You’ll be damned anyway, witch,” the man said. His voice wasn’t angry, it was calculating. “I knew I smelled the stench of sin on you, and I’m actually glad you’re here. Now I can cleanse this bloodline of its wickedness, and purge one more Satan-loving witch from the world at the same time.”

  “That was you that cast the spell back in the tent. I figured. Ain’t that just delightfully hypocritical of you reverend.” I tried to hang as much sarcasm on his title as I could. “Well I guess they do say it takes a thief to catch a thief.”

  An indignant look came on his face then, the first real emotion I’d seen. “My powers are a gift from the lord God on High, given unto me that I might fulfill biblical law. Exodus 22:18 ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”

  “Well Marsh 4:20 says you can fuck right off.” I spat in his direction. Had Forrest gotten him and the kids hidden yet? Had he called the cops? Was he doing something stupid even then like looking out the window to see what was going on?

  “Smart words will not save you from your fate,” he said, shaking his head. “If you repent, and beg forgiveness for your sins, then when I kill you, you may have some small chance at an entry into the God’s blessed light. I will give you a moment to pray, sinner.”

  “Some sins boss, you just don’t get forgiven,” I said. I called up my power, and my hand became wreathed in blue-black flames. “You get gone, and you’ll have plenty of time to pray for your sins in prison. Out of kindness, I’ll give you the same chance you gave me, if you get in your car and drive the fuck off right now.”

  A snarl came upon his face then, real anger. He raised his hand from the barrel of the rifle, holding it up to match mine. With a word, his hand too erupted into a golden white fire, so bright it was like a tiny sliver of the sun come to earth.

  “Now it’s a party,” I grinned ferally.

  Fist Full Of (Flaming) Dollars

  I think I moved first, but if I did, it was only by a split fucking second. Practically as one we both hurled our flame covered fists outwards, hurling a ball of magical energy at each other with as much force as we could muster.

  The two flaming orbs struck just over halfway between us, colliding a few feet away from a cement birdbath that was filled with water so stagnant it was damn near black. The heat of the flames instantly vaporized the water in a hiss of steam.

  That was just the sideshow though. The real fireworks were happening a foot or so away.

  My blue-black fire had struck the slightly larger ball of white-gold that Hatty had hurled. They hit with a crack like a gunshot, loud enough to hurt my ears. You could instantly smell an acrid singed odor, like burning insulation, enough to cause my eyes to water.

  That wasn’t helped by the explosion of colors that erupted before our eyes. The two fires entwined, black-gold and blue-white spiraling outwards like the birth of a hurricane. A crackling roar accompanied it as the flames chased each other in a riot of light.

  I could see though that the Reverend’s flames were the ones doing the chasing. The spreading nova of color was quickly becoming much lighter in its shading as tendrils of black were scorched from existence. A rain of ash was falling onto the blackened grass beneath, a circle of charred earth damn near scoured to the dirt.

  This was just the matter of a few seconds, but I could see exactly how this was going to go. I was already shifting myself as the last few licks of blue were devoured. My turning head saw Hatty’s creation hurling towards me, nothing stopping it now.

  I tucked my head and dove behind the corner of the trailer. I stuck my arms out to try and catch my fall, but I was moving so quickly that I could do little more than just roll with it. My torso slammed into the rain dampened ground, knocking the breath from me.

  Above, and slightly behind, I heard a crash and felt the heat of the orb singe the hair off my legs. I was pretty sure I was gonna have something like a sunburn there, but who had time to worry about a little burn just then. Lungs begging, I stumbled to my feet and took off.

  Glancing back I could see that the corner of the trailer was on fire. The force of the strike had actually holed the metal slightly, ripping a tear in the tin exterior and catching the wooden skeleton of the frame alight. The magic had already faded, but the flames it left behind were all too real. I swore, hoping that wherever the kids were hiding it hadn’t been in that room.

  I heard Hatty shout something, but damned if I understood what he said. Probably some looney religious shit. I was too busy trying to catch my breath and stay alive to focus on his crazy, not if I wanted to keep staying alive.

  With magic, I know that any folk who can actually do it are stronger than me. Most of them by a good bit. I don’t know if it’s cause of how they was trained, or if it’s some sort of inside thing. Most folks with the power, they keep what they know all mighty close to the vest and don’t go around sharing their secrets.

  What I had learned to do to compensate was heavy drugs. I mean, I’d have done them anyway, let's be honest here. In fact I was using them recreationally long before I ever figured out how to tap them for more useful reasons. But they were how I bridged the gap in power.

  Only, I usually had more in my system when shit like this went down. I’d been broke too long to be able to splurge like I normally would, and I was paying for it now. There was a lingering cocktail of substance threading its way through my bloodstream, but nowhere near as much as I would have liked.

  But even if Hatty was now as tapped out as I was, which I really doubted, he still had a gun, and I had fuck all. I scrambled around the trailer, looking for anything that could help me. I was too far from the barn or tree line, and he would spot me before I could reach their momentary safety. There was a very slight chance I could dash inside the house, but it was a long shot, and that would just probably drag him right in after me, which was the exact opposite of what I wanted.

  Then I saw it, and that sort of super cliche plan that you get from watching too many movies came. It was all I had.

  The real kicker? It actually almost sorta worked.

  You Wanna Tussle?

  Coming on at a run the Reverend came around the corner of the building hunting me. Now if it had been a movie, he’d have been right there next to the side of the trailer. But with that end of the place on fire, he had moved out a few feet.

  So when I swung the shovel Forrest had been using to dig his trench that morning, instead of smacking the bastard in the face, it slapped into the barrel of the rifle. It hit with enough force to rip it out of the man’s hands, sending it spinning backwards. It fired, probably from his finger getting snatched when I struck, but the bullet tore a harmless hole in the trailer skirting.

  I swung for the fences, and in doing so, sorta overextended myself. My hands were ringing, jarred hard by the blow of metal on metal, and it caused my grip to loosen. I managed to keep grip with my right hand, but my left couldn’t stick with it. So the shovel swung right around, pas
t the point of easy control.

  There was only a moment, and I knew spending it wrangling that shovel back into some sort of fighting stance would just leave me a scorched pile of ash on the grass. So I turned it loose. It hurled towards the trailer, and struck the side I think. I wasn’t paying it much mind however, having squared up to do my best linebacker impersonation.

  Football had never been my sport, but I bled Crimson, and had watched enough over the years to have the general idea down. Lunge forward, shoulder lowered, and try to wrap the bastard up. That was the plan.

  What actually happened was that he turned slightly and managed to hammer a fist down on my back. I still struck him, and managed to get my arms around him, but instead of taking him to the ground, he just staggered back and tried beating my back into submission.

  Those blows HURT. He had real strength, and one or two more and I would be pounded into the dirt. It was all I could do to keep my feet from the two smacks he’d already put on me, and I wasn’t sure he hadn’t cracked a rib.

  But at the end of the day there was one difference between us: he was a preacher, and I was a degen. I’d lived in the gutter and fought like it. I was pretty small, both physically and in power, so I’d long ago learned to find ways to even the playing field. He wasn’t ready.

  I called up a bit of power and drove my fist right into his balls. Along with the force of the blow came a little bit of an electric shock courtesy of my magic. Sure, me touching him, it shocked me too a bit, but he got the worst of it. And in the worst possible place.

  He crumpled to the ground with a shriek. I staggered back as well, my hair standing up on end from the current that had passed through me. But I managed to keep my feet, if only barely, and step towards him.

  As he writhed there at my feet I knew how easy it would be for me to kill him. One fist full of flame, and he’d be a charred pile of bones in a few moments. He’d been trying to do the same to me and would, it seemed, happily do it to the kids inside.

  He had killed my friend, and killed the hope of another.

  I raised my fist high above my head. And then, more falling than anything, drove it down into his face. I felt his jaw crack under my hand, and felt bones in my own hand break as well. He went out, his writhing ceasing as I knocked him out.

  Reeling back I clutched my hand to my chest. The pain was intense, and I was sure I had broken most of the bones around the knuckle of my pinky finger. I’ll say this, it hurt like a mighty mother of a bitch, but it cleared my head right up from that electric induced grogginess. I was able to get to my feet easily enough. I thought about grabbing up that shovel and bashing Hatty’s fucking face in.

  Instead I looked over to the trailer. The corner of it was good and ablaze now, but so long as the kids weren’t in that exact room, they would be fine, I figured. It would be no thing to get them out. As I looked though, I saw there were flames licking up over the roof from the front of the building.

  Fire It Up

  The bastard must have slung another fireball at the front of the house. An insurance policy I guess. Swearing, I glanced back at him. He was down for the count, out like a light, whatever cliche you want to use. I’d have preferred to take the time to tie the bastard up, but I didn’t have any rope.

  I bolted for the back door, racing up the steps onto the gray, weathered boards of the back porch. Through the windows I could see an ominous orange light coming from what had to be the living room. I was reaching out my hand to open the door, when I heard a crash.

  Off to my left a small window, barely six inches high shattered open. It was high up on the wall, and I knew the type; it was one of those little bathroom windows, designed to let in a little light, but be fairly creeper-proof at the same time. From behind it came screams.

  Forrest I could hear clearly, shouting my name. But behind that was the screams of two other smaller voices. There was real terror there, and it fucking tore at me. “I’m coming!” I yelled. “Forrest I’m coming!”

  I damn near ripped the screen door off its hinges, so hard did I yank on it. When I went to open the inner door though, I found that Forrest had locked it. I hardly slowed. Calling up on my rapidly diminishing well of power the door blasted off its hinges as a surge of pure force slammed into it. The heat hit me immediately I stepped into the hellscape.

  The front of the house was ablaze in a rapidly expanding wall of flame. It was lashing out, spreading across the dingy carpet, and catching a couch alight. I shielded my face against it as I pulled my shirt up over my mouth and nose.

  The heat was damn near unbearable, and I was across the room. The problem being, the hall that led to the bathroom was right there by the fire. If I got any closer, it really would be too much to handle. As it was, I was pretty damn sure my eyebrows were a little singed.

  If I'd been properly dosed up, really humming along, I could have put that whole fire out more than likely. I can't do a whole lot of specific magic, but just generally controlling some of the elements, that I can do. Because that is less about training, and more about gut, at least so I have found.

  But I was damn near tapped out, and my hand was all fucked up. I wasn't sure I could even really cast a good spell just then, with about half my fingers on that hand all buggered up. I felt a panic starting to well up in me.

  Over the flames I could hear the kids screaming. That grounded me in a way that the fire right before my eyes couldn't. If I didn't move, they would die. I had brought this down on them. If they died, it would be all my fault.

  I took off for the hallway. The heat started to blister my skin as I reached the portal, the orange flames reaching for me like grasping fingers. I called up the dregs of my power and did the best job I could at pushing away the heat. My fingers screamed as I twisted them to make the needed shape, but the heat abated just enough that I was able to make it past the worst of the fire.

  Thick black smoke filled the air down to about my chest level, roiling out of the burning insulation. It made it so hard to see that I ended up ducking down, running as best I could bent over at the waist. Craning my head to one side I saw a doorway, but it was open and I could see what looked like a kids’ bedroom with bunk beds. Cheap, dollar store toys littered the floor amongst the scattered remains of knock off barbies.

  I should have known it would be the next door down. Every trailer, and damn near every house I have ever been in, the bathroom was the second door on the left. And, as usual, I was right. The door was shut, existing in a rapidly narrowing space across from two spreading fires looking to meet in the middle, right before that door.

  Without slowing, I flung the door open. Sure enough, three huddled forms were curled up in the tub. Forrest had the shower going, and the water was falling on them, soaking them pretty solid. What smoke had bled in was being sucked out of the broken window. All in all the boy had done a good job, thinking of things it hadn't occurred to me to do.

  All three looked at me, eyes wide with fright. The smoke, which had been seeping in before now came in rapidly, quickly filling the air. Luckily they were below the height of the smoke, being there in the tub, but I knew that wouldn't last long.

  “Hush now, hush,” I said, taking a knee beside the tub and putting my hands on the two littler ones. I looked at Forrest. “You did good, real good. It's time to go now though.”

  He shook his head. “We done tried. The fire's too hot.”

  I tried to smile as calmly as I could. I was the adult here, as sad as that was to say, and they were looking to me to be the stable one, the one with the plan. I had one - not great, but the best I could muster. I grabbed a handful of bath towels that were hanging on the racks, and shoved them in the shower. “Get these good and wet, and start wrapping them around you, especially your head.”

  The kids were too out of it, but Forrest started doing what I asked. While he did that, I stepped back to the doorway. That fire was moving, and moving quickly. Far quicker than it should have been. Whatever Hatty had
done, a little bit of magic must have been lingering in the flames, making them far hungrier than they should have been. It sucked, but I planned to use it to my advantage if I could.

  Just then the water died, sputtering to a stop. The water pipe must have burned through. As hot as this fire was burning, their clothes and towels would dry out damn quick if they got close to a flame. But it might buy a little time I hoped.

  “Alright, c'mon now,” I said helping the little boy from the tub. “We gotta be fast, but I bet you're real fast, aren't you?”

  The kid nodded, but real unsure like. Forrest was up, hunched to keep under the smoke as much as possible, and was doing the same for his sister. Together we got them on their feet and up near the door. I looked at Forrest.

  “You gotta trust me now, ok?” When he nodded I continued. “I'm gonna make it so you can stand the heat. Don’t ask, just trust. I need you to take their hands and run down the hall towards the corner over there. The fire done burned a hole big enough for you to jump through. Got it?”

  He looked at me clearly unsure, but after a second he agreed. Then I dug deep, and told him to run. He ran, pulling those kids behind him like grounded kites.

  I stepped into the hallway right behind him and snarled at my broken fingers til they contorted the way I wanted, forcing a narrow tunnel of power against the heat. It wasn't enough to really stop it, I didn't have the power for that, especially not over the length of the trailer that was left. But it was enough to keep their wet clothes from drying out too much, to keep them from catching fire. Tomorrow there would be blisters to doctor, and maybe missing eyebrows, but they would live. As long as they were quick.

  Not surprisingly, Forrest was having some trouble guiding along his charges. I was too focused on maintaining the spell to even move, much less run along helping him, but as the strain of beating back the heat grew on me, I wished they would get it the fuck together. Keeping the heat off of them was doing little to keep it off me.