Hot, sweaty and sticky her Kevlar vest clung to both her back as well as her chest. Reaching two fingers down her neckline and under the dress uniform shirt Henderson continually failed at pulling it away from her soaked cotton under shirt, which only provided a mere few seconds of relief until it slunk back down and suctioned itself back against her balmy skin. Henderson knew the people around her had mentally checked out as well as most of the paper programs had been folded and were being used as small hand-powered fans. At least she was not alone in her disdain for the sludge coming from the mouth of the mayor.
Able to ignore almost every word he had said at least was some form of relinquishment from the mind-numbing torture she felt they all were succumbing to. Oblivious to how Henderson felt about his speech the mayor ended it sixteen minutes later with these unexpected words,
“I would now like to welcome Pine Run’s new sheriff up to say a few words, Annette Henderson.”
The crowd all turned to look at Henderson as if they were unsure of what the proper response was. Clapping did not seem appropriate at a funeral but there were a few who did. The entire room sat there in silence waiting for her to stand up and acknowledge the invitation the mayor had just presented to her.
Only Henderson had no clue as to what they were looking at. Still suffering through her heat-induced daydream, she did hear the mayor’s words, but they did not register in her mind as being a part of reality.
“Sheriff Henderson, would you like to say a few words?” The mayor again asked with the intention of getting her on stage to share in the moment. He knew that is was a surprise. Hitting her with the news that she had been promoted as well as asking her to speak when she had nothing prepared was not exactly the ideal situation. The mayor had a flair for the dramatic and anything else full of pompous circumstance. It was almost as if the mayor was setting Henderson up to fail in front of the entire town and all the media present just because it would make for a good show.
Quickly coming to the awkward realization of what was happening, Henderson stood, turned to face the crowd, and nodded. Turning back she walked up the stairs with confidence and met the mayor at the podium. Shaking her hand, he pulled her in close to his chest in what was most likely meant to be a hug but came off more as two football players awkwardly celebrating with a chest bump. Again, the mayor pulled her in close this time with his head almost to her shoulder and whispered into her ear,
“Congratulations Sheriff, don’t fuck this up. You know who runs this town right? I do, so don’t forget it. Stand up here, look pretty and be the perfect affirmative action poster bitch that I know you can be. It might be best to act like your dead boss and stay out of my way. Those that make noise, will be silenced.”
The nature of the threat was not clear to Henderson, but the fact that it was definitely a threat was clear. The mayor let go of her hand leaving it wet and clammy as he waddled his way back down the stage steps taking his place in the front row. Sitting there, he leaned back with a wide grin on his face as if he was watching his master plan of chaos unfold into a perfect downward spiral.
“Hello,” Henderson said as she moved the microphone into position once again causing the dreaded screeching sound of feedback reverberating throughout the gym. Visibly annoyed that her speech had started out the same way as the mayor’s, she continued on.
“My name is Annette Henderson.” The crowd sat still in silence. The mayor had just said her name which was already unnecessary being that everyone in town knew damned well who she was.
Stepping up closer to the microphone she knew this was it, this was her moment. The mayor was right when he said not to fuck it up. Yet taking advice from him at this point did not seem like the best of ideas.
“I wish I could have become your sheriff under different circumstances. I wish I could have earned it. The men who are pictured up here were good men, are good men.”
More lies, she thought to herself.
“I came to this department a few years ago and have had the pleasure of serving your community. I have met many of you and for those who I have not, I will.” She said beginning to gain more confidence.
“I will be honest with you.” She paused.
For once, she thought in silence.
“The mayor has certainly surprised me with this announcement. I had no plans on becoming your new sheriff and I would have hoped there would be a better time than this day to announce it all to you. Having been through what you have, I realize this is not at all ideal. For that reason I will not keep you waiting.”
The piercing sharpness of the tone in her voice was not missed by anyone in attendance. Henderson was openly accusing the mayor of being unprofessional. The only question was if he would take it as a joke or if he thought this was a challenge in regards to his Who runs this town, comment.
This public revelation did not make the mayor happy. The evidence of that was blatant upon his face. He clearly glared at her through the black-rimmed glasses which again had begun to slide from his nose.
“Although I was not told to be prepared for this, I am looking forward to the opportunity and the challenge. I hope in promoting me we can begin to move forward.” Henderson then cleared her throat and leaned in closer to ensure that her next point was clear and concise.
“Mr. Mayor, I sincerely hope that in the future our working relationship is not full of these types of surprises.” The crowd smiled in unison and some even chuckled at the idea of her scolding the town’s top elected official. The mayor himself did not find any humor in it and only sat there, dead center in the front row looking at her as if in this moment he realized he had made a huge mistake.
“We can do this together. It has been said that it takes a village to raise a child. However I think now and in our future going forward it is extremely important that we....” Henderson paused, “We....” frozen, silent, she squinted and peered at what she was now looking at. Deep into the back of the gymnasium’s roofline, something had caught her eye.
There, standing in the skylights that were open to allow what little fresh air there was into the gym, stood two figures; side by side, blacked out by the sun shining down on them from behind. Two dark shapes, equal in size, looking down on her as if they were hawks perched in a tree waiting to attack an unknowing rabbit the entire time.
Be the hawk, not the rabbit, she thought to herself.
Silhouetted in the light, she could not see their faces, but she didn’t need to. Henderson knew who was there, above her, watching, listening, waiting. She also knew they must have wanted to be seen by her and only her. For had they just wanted her dead, she would have still been on that stage but only in a picture next to the other deputies.
No bodies, no caskets.
3 Hawk’s Nest
Annette knew that there would always be questions with no answers and that only visiting the watery grave site of her younger brothers would confirm their death. In the time that had passed, she had yet to do so. Even during the search party phases she never got to close to the underground cabin entrance. Her only goal was too keep those in the search parties away from it in hopes of keeping her dead secret alive and well. Keeping the grave unknown was not her only motive.
Henderson simply could not bring herself to visit the place where she murdered her brothers. The act of fratricide was not something she was proud of and her decision to do so haunted her every thought. As a deputy, she had seen over her years what water would do to a decomposing body. Often it was a drowned fisherman or a drunken college kid on a canoe trip that had something go terribly wrong. Seeing her brothers in a likewise condition was not something she was ready to bring herself to do.
The rush surging throughout her body upon seeing both Drake and Tomek perched above her was what puzzled her the most. She had prepared herself to one day go back to the cabin and see their bodies. She knew on that day she would have to be prepared for the grief and to deal with the guilt. One day maybe, but not today. The feeling in
her heart was not shock or even guilt. Henderson felt, relief. Full well knowing she may have to kill her brothers again to prolong her own life. She smiled thinking how yesterday she was a murderer, but today she was just a sister. Standing at the podium in front of the most people she had ever spoken to, Henderson kept her cool, thanked everyone in attendance again, and turned the microphone back over to Father Niko.
Taking her place back in the front row, Father Niko’s closing remarks fell upon deaf ears. Nothing else in the world mattered except how. How did they survive? How did they get out? Even simpler forms of how questions popped into her mind. Like, how did they get on the roof of the school?
Henderson knew that none of the questions mattered, only the answers. She wanted answers.
The answers to all her questions could have been found right there in Pine Run. Had she known who to ask that is. However, a visit to The Hawk’s Nest General Store would have told her all she wanted to know. Simply visiting the store would not help her in finding out the truth, she would have to ask the right question in order to get the right answer.
The Hawk’s Nest sat on the corner in downtown Pine Run with the corner of the building only being eighteen inches from the actual roadway. The store’s status as a historical building meant common day building codes and sidewalk variances did not apply. The building was there long before those types of laws were written by men in suits and this store was not the kind of place men in suits often visited.
An older building, it had seen its fair share of hard days. The once bright blue paint had faded and peeled back allowing the white primer coat and wood grain to bust its way through. The buildings barn-type style and weathered condition was textbook for vintage. The store was the type of building that would be picked up and placed on a movie set in order to show pioneer days. However this was not a movie set, this was Pine Run.
Stepping into the store, you immediately felt history. The wood floors made from large planks of local pine at the turn of the century shifted and creaked with every step. It was as if dust fell between the cracks of every plank into the basement as you glided across the uneven floor. Every soul that walked in was greeted by the owner’s Dachshund pup Sypris as she came barking to the door. Her nail marks ingrained into the wooden floorboards showed her favorite paths throughout the store over the years. The owner would often brag that Sypris was the best tracking dog in Michigan. Most people just laughed it off thinking a wiener dog was good for just one thing, barking. But it often made for a good discussion and more than a few jokes. The basement, that was now a dirt floor stockroom, housed southern slaves in the 1850’s who were working their way up to guaranteed freedom in Canada. Having served as a confirmed part of the Underground Railroad meant the building would forever hold its place there on the corner. The Hawk’s Nest never did actually see pioneer days, but it did see many a slave during its use as an underground railroad stop as well as many a lumberjack during the mill days.
Metal shelves, electric coolers, and food bins had yet to take the place of all the original hand-built wooded ones that remained in the store. Pictures hung on every inch of every wall. Many documenting the Underground Railroad groups, none of them smiling. Sadly most of those photographs had deteriorated over time and now remained on the wall as faded proof of dark memories. Most of the pictures featured the lumber days and work crews moving massive loads of Northern Michigan lumber towards Chicago. The Hawk’s Nest owner, would spin tales to those who asked regaling the glorious lumber boom of years gone by.
The owner’s favorite being the story of the great Chicago fire of 1871. The fire had destroyed every inch of almost a four-mile span of what was at that time, the world’s greatest city. Michigan, and more specifically northern Michigan became the heart of the rebuilding effort. Chicago was put back on the map one board and plank at a time thanks to the lumber that was harvested here. If not for the fire in Chicago, there would not be a Pine Run.
When the crews arrived at each location to start cutting, certain necessities would need to be made available. These small lumber villages would sprout up and provide all that the hard-working men needed. With Pine Run already having been a stop on the real, above ground railroad that ran from Mackinac to Chicago and then eventually carried on to the Mississippi river, it was in the perfect location. Everything from medical facilities to restaurants littered the villages adjacent to their working areas and Pine Run was no different. As widespread as the industry was, each company had their own way of keeping their men happy. Happy men meant working men. The doctor’s kept them healthy while the saloons and brothels kept them happy.
In its life time, The Hawk’s Nest General Store had served as a place of business for all those previously mentioned and the owner had the pictures hanging on his walls for proof. The idea of his building having been a one-stop shop for all of a lumberman’s needs remained true to this day.
The Hawk’s Nest owner stocked everything from groceries to chainsaws and hunting equipment. This truly was where a woodsman would shop. Where a hunter would buy his weapons and ammunition and where a sheriff’s deputy like Coleman would stock up on supplies for a training mission in the woods.
All the pictures hung on walls above a small printed out caption of what was depicted except one in particular. The frame stuck out from the wall and was carved from elk antler; with a prominent place behind the register, every customer was almost forced to notice it. There stood two men with their arms upon each other’s shoulders. One of the only pictures in the building that featured subjects with smiles. Although he was in the picture, it was the one the owner would never talk about. When asked he would say,
“Every picture in here has a story as does this one. But you see, all the other pictures have stories that are complete. This one has yet to be written.”
That was the only thing the owner ever said about the elk antler framed picture of a much younger version of himself and the man. No more, no less.
4 Escape
Taking their last deep breaths from what little air remained in the room, Tomek and Drake both pressed their heads turned sideways against the birch bark white roof of the cabin. Blowing out just as much water from their mouths as the air they took in, the brothers looked at each other.
Throughout their life they both had faced death and escaped enough times to know what it looked like. This time though there was no escape. No air, no life.
“At least we’re together,” Tomek said laughing inappropriately.
Even with the water closing in the room around them, Drake couldn’t help but to find some humor in the fact that Tomek was the one being all sentimental about them dying in each other’s presence.
“Yup,” Drake replied at a loss for words as they both exhaled mist through their lips and sucked in what might have been their last breath.
As their last drags of air processed through their lungs, the burn of holding onto the carbon dioxide after effects filled their body. Drake sunk down to the floor in the dark feeling it against the bottom of his feet and used what power he had left in his muscles to push off against it rocketing himself upwards to the ceiling in a failed attempt to find air. There was no air pocket to be found as his head slammed against the bark ceiling.
The banging of his head combined with the lack of air left in his blood caused him to suck in a large amount of water. Drake felt the water fill his stomach first and then his lungs. He knew this burning was the last feeling he would ever have. Giving up his fight Drake let his body go limp and begin to sink again accepting the inevitable.
Not expecting to feel anything else, he only felt the life being sucked from his body. Twisting and turning he felt the rush of death as if he was sliding out of the darkness into a white, bright tunnel. Was it the afterlife, was it Heaven or was this his personal Hell?
The feeling was so real, as if his soul had been removed from the pains his body had succumbed to. Drake looked up into the bright light, it hurt his eyes, but it was
to glorious to look at none-the-less. Having been so close to death many times in his young life he knew that this time he had actually died. This time was different from all the rest. This time he had gone from darkness to light in just a few seconds. Drake looked deep into the light until it burned his eyes and then blinked.
Why did I blink?
Why is there pain?
He thought to himself.
Drake realized the bright light he continued to stare at was not Heaven or even Hell, it was the sun. Turning his head away from its glare he looked to his right where to his surprise Tomek was standing. Next to Tomek was a dark figure that seemed to be shadowed in the brightness. Drake thought perhaps it was the Devil himself, but as his eyes adjusted to the light he saw a man. A man wearing a full camouflaged ghille suit full of the ferns and grasses that littered their valley. A man with a beard that was clearly white along the edges where the paint that was used to camouflage his face had rubbed off. A man holding a handmade leather-wrapped bow that had a stone-headed arrow adorned to the string. Tomek was standing next to him as if they had known each other for years. Drake wiped the water away from his face to see that Tomek was standing, with Uncle.
Drake shot up to his knees taking in his first real deep breath since before the water casket closed in on him.
“Uncle?” Drake asked looking at Tomek.
The man took a step forward towards them and quickly answered the biggest question on both of their minds.
“Hello boys, it is good to see you again. You must be hurting and tired. No, I am not your Uncle, but he is my, was my, twin,” the man explained.
“The name is Hawkins, most around these parts call me Old Man or Old Man Hawkins or just Hawkins is fine by me,” Hawkins said introducing himself formally. Both of the twins sat there looking at the man as if he was Uncle with a different tone of voice.
Twins of Prey II: Homecoming Page 2
