Holding Smoke

by Steph Post

  “Damn right, I left him there. I left ’em all there. The fields was still sending up smoke, so I knew somebody’d find the place eventually. But I sure as hell weren’t waiting around to find out who. I jumped in my truck and lit on out.”

  Benji whistled.

  “Jesus.”

  “You’re telling me. I thought about calling up Rita, maybe staying with her ’til things simmered down, but who knows if there weren’t some kind of hit list and she were on it, too. Man, I’d only known these folks a few months. Who knows what they’d all really been into or who was after them. I drove my ass down to the gulf and hid out at a Days Inn in Panama City, watching the news twenty-four seven, but never heard a word. Not a peep. I mean, six people get taken out and a pot farm goes up in flames, and there ain’t nothing on the news? It was weird, man. Spooky. Like it all just disappeared. Or ain’t never happened. I started thinking maybe I’d just dreamed it all. Taken one of Rita’s Ambien by accident when we was popping Adderall on the drive. So, I gave it a couple weeks and then hit the road home. Better to be here, fighting the devils you know, right?”

  Levi’s face suddenly changed again, back into its usual bullying sneer, and he punched Benji in the shoulder.

  “And hey, Benji here and our Judey-boy had everything all cleaned up nice for me when I got back. Dealt with everything while I were gone and now the future is going to be paved with milk and honey. Ain’t that right?”

  Benji’s cane slipped in the dirt and he almost pitched forward into the barrel and its now smoldering remains. Elrod caught him just in time with a guffawing laugh that quickly became contagious. Gary, flying high as a kite, hooted and shoved Alvin, who circled his arm around Gary’s neck in a headlock. Behind Shelia, Kristy screeched proprietarily at Alvin to knock it off while Maizie was shrieking with giggles. The web of solemnity that Levi had woven over them broke and talk quickly turned to boasts about who could do the most shots and the best keg stands, with Cooper landing flat on his back when he tried to demonstrate his technique. Shelia’s mind, however, hadn’t strayed from the look on Levi’s face, right before he’d taken his soft swing at Benji. A dangerous combination of chicken-heartedness and disgust, though Shelia couldn’t be sure if it was meant for his youngest brother or himself. Regardless, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Levi Cannon was gunning for trouble.

  *

  Felton tugged on the strap of his brand new turquoise backpack and squinted at the tree line ahead, haloed gold by the rising sun, creeping up toward the horizon. Tyler had shown him how to sling the backpack from one shoulder, and one shoulder only, to carry it. Felton fingered the embroidered tag on the strap. Jan Sport. Like the Adidas on his feet, Juniper had shoplifted the backpack for him. She’d presented it to him last night, stuffed into a large, striped Happy Birthday gift bag she’d also stolen from the Wal-Mart just down the highway. Felton’s birthday had been weeks ago, back when he was still wandering the Okefenokee Swamp, but Juniper had insisted on getting him a gift.

  She’d discovered his birthdate one night when the four of them were sitting around their campsite, telling jokes and stories, and Juniper began explaining the meaning behind each of their astrological signs. Tyler and Dustin had snickered when Juniper had informed them that Felton was a Virgo, the virgin, but Juniper had ignored them as she laid out for Felton his personality traits, colors, and even drawn him the symbol for his sign with a stick in the dirt. Felton smiled now when he thought of this. A Virgo. Successful and clever. A perfectionist. Felton had never known he’d had a sign. Had never been given a color, or a symbol, or a series of traits he could hold on to, an identity he could stick in his pocket and keep safe. Juniper had also told him his birthstone, sapphire, and flower, the aster. Felton had been amazed at how much importance could be attached to the day of one’s birth. At how special it could be. That night, Felton had let slip to Juniper that he’d never had a party, never had a birthday cake. Along with the backpack, Juniper had presented him with a plastic container of only slightly smashed frosted cupcakes and a card with a puppy holding a red balloon, wishing Felton a Pawsome Birthday! Felton had the card with him in his backpack now. Tyler, Dustin, and Juniper had all signed it.

  Felton adjusted the backpack self-consciously again, even though he was completely alone in the middle an empty parking lot, and prepared himself to leave. The sky above him was a dawn-dark indigo, now beginning to lighten in the east. Blue, like a sapphire. A sky just for him. The air had a bite to it and it prickled the back of Felton’s neck and the bare crown of his head. He kicked aimlessly at one of the many crumbling chunks of asphalt littering the vast, abandoned expanse. Felton could hear the intermittent roar of the interstate but, standing in the center of this concrete wasteland, he might as well have been on the moon. Felton squared his shoulders, gave the strap of his backpack a last snap, and started walking. He didn’t get very far.

  “Felton, wait!”

  Startled, Felton turned around to look back at the abandoned visitor center where they’d parked the van and set up their tents for the night. Juniper was running toward him with her long red hair flying out behind her and her thin-soled flip-flops smacking hard against the pavement. She was clutching one side when she reached him, but smiled as she worked to catch her breath. She sucked in a few mouthfuls of air and then snatched his backpack. Felton let it fall from his shoulder as he stood in front of her dumbly, wondering what she was doing. Juniper dropped the backpack at her feet with a thud.

  “We’re going with you.”

  Felton blinked a few times, trying to understand. She picked at a strand of hair caught at the corner of her lips and knit her eyebrows in a frown.

  “What? You don’t want us to come?”

  Juniper pointed back toward the van and tents.

  “We voted on it last night, after you were asleep. It was unanimous. We want to come with you down to Florida. Down to your aunt’s church in, wherever you said it was. Screw going to Charleston.”

  Felton still didn’t say anything. He opened and closed his mouth a few times and Juniper cocked her head to look at him critically.

  “You look like a goldfish when you do that, you know. Do you not want us to come with you? I mean, it’s cool if this is something you need to do on your own. I get it. I just thought, maybe, I don’t know.”

  “No, I want…”

  Felton started to whisper and then stopped himself and cleared his throat. He stood up straight.

  “No, I want you to. I want you to come with me.”

  It was rapidly growing lighter and now Felton could see the dusting of freckles across Juniper’s pale cheeks and nose. She arched an eyebrow.

  “Are you sure?”

  Felton nodded.

  “I’m sure.”

  But then the image of a pale, burning eye flashed in his mind. Felton knew where he was going. Juniper and Tyler and Dustin did not. They had never seen the crimp of his aunt’s lips or felt the scourge of her tongue. They had never stood in the back of the Last Steps of Deliverance Church of God with sweat dripping down their backs and terror squirreled away in their hearts. They had never met Sister Tulah. They had never been held in thrall by her. Felton faltered.

  “I think. I mean, you don’t know where I’m going. You don’t know what it’s going to be like. It could be…”

  Felton tried to think of the right word. He himself had no idea what it would be like when he returned to Sister Tulah. Would she welcome him? Would she disavow him? Would she try to harm him, her only living flesh and blood? Or worse? The Snake had only told him that he must return; it had given Felton no further guidance. He had prayed on his knees in a stall at the rest stop, in the backseat of the van, and in his tent, only hours before, with the antics of the kids drowning out the silence. He had beseeched the Snake, but the Snake had not answered him. Felton’s pleas were only heeded by his own echo; the white Snake had again turned to stone.

  Junipe
r lifted her face and her gaze was clear as she waited for him to continue. Felton floundered for a moment and then finally sputtered in exasperation.

  “I mean, why would you want to? Why would you want to come with me?”

  Juniper picked up his backpack by the top loop with both hands and rocked it a few times, banging it lightly against her shins. She looked back over her shoulder toward the van. Tyler was standing outside of his tent now, stretching his arms out wide and then scratching at his stomach through his T-shirt. Juniper turned back to Felton and shrugged.

  “Because you’re our friend.”

  Such words Felton had never heard before. Juniper swung the backpack onto her shoulder and looped her arm through Felton’s as she turned him around and steered him back. Felton, his heart almost bursting, mutely followed.

  4

  Judah slammed the F-150’s door and waited for Ramey to come around the side of the truck and join him. She was riled, her mouth tight as she gripped one arm of her dangling sunglasses between her teeth while whipping her hair back into a messy ponytail. Judah wasn’t certain if her look was aimed toward him or their current surroundings. She hadn’t said much on the ride over and Judah had known better than to press her. There was a tempest brewing somewhere behind those amber eyes, but he’d have to deal with it later. After he figured out what the hell Levi had done this time. Judah rocked back on his heels and gave a low whistle, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Man, it’s been a while since I’ve been out this way.”

  Ramey put her sunglasses back on, crossed her arms, and looked around with a defiant jut of her chin. She didn’t say anything.

  “Usually, Isaac just brings the take up to The Ace and we get it from Linda or Burke.”

  Ramey nodded, her jaw still set.

  “Yep. That’s how it works.”

  Judah shook his head. Small talk never got him anywhere with Ramey and it was pointless to put off the meeting any longer. Judah strode across the dusty dirt lot, kicking up a small cloud with his boots as he headed for the front porch of the shotgun-style house. He must have been just shy of twenty the last time he’d made a trip out to the Red Creek Fish House, trailing reluctantly behind Sherwood, who’d been dead set on strong-arming Sukey Lewis and bending her to the Cannon’s will. Things hadn’t gone so well that day, although Sherwood and Sukey had eventually settled into an uneasy alliance and partnership of sorts after a tense few months. Judah could only pray that the outcome of today would result in a lot less bloodshed than before.

  The cleared area in front of the Fish House was still much as Judah remembered it, with large wooden cable spools scattered among the rough pine stumps, to be used as makeshift tables and chairs. The yard was empty, but a few of the spools were littered with empty beer pitchers and crushed plastic cups, remnants of the late night before. Flies buzzed around the crumpled balls of wax paper and red-and-white checked paper baskets soaked in grease. The flies swarmed around Judah briefly as he threaded his way across the clearing. There was a pool table top braced up on stacked cinder blocks at the edge of the woods—its green felt bleached gray, only one broken cue in sight—and that was new, Judah noted. So was the screen on the sloping front porch, now expanded to wrap around the entirety of the building and dotted with two-top tables. Judah yanked on the screen door and held it open for Ramey, though she didn’t look at him as she stomped up the squat cement steps. Judah nodded tersely to an old black man, half-slipping out of a collapsible wheelchair parked next to a cooler of live bait. A silvery line of drool hung from his slack lips.

  “Herbert.”

  The man’s eyes were cloudy and blank, but the long fingers on one of his hands, dangling down behind his spread legs, twitched in response. His other hand was curled tightly into a fist in his lap. The man’s head hung listlessly to one side, causing the line of drool to spread in a puddle on one leg of his khaki pants. Judah stared at Herbert for a moment, without a trace of feeling in his heart. He’d heard the stories. Judah caught Ramey’s eye as they passed beneath a rusting Royal Crown Cola sign and through the open front door. Her face was stone cold; she’d heard the stories, too.

  Judah stopped just inside and quickly scanned the long, narrow room. The interior walls of the house had long ago been knocked down to accommodate the lunch counter running down its length. Judah hesitated as his eyes adjusted to the dreary light filtering in through the restaurant’s widely spaced, filmy windows. There was a part of his brain that had half expected to be accosted by a militia of men with shotguns when they’d stepped through the front door. Another part was simply indignant that he’d been called all the way out to the other side of the county to begin with, as if he were just a puppy following a whistle. He’d very briefly brought up both points to Ramey, but if her coolness toward him was troubling, at least she hadn’t lost her cool head during their time apart. Sukey and her Fish House—and the bets she ran from its lunch counter, the stolen merchandise she fenced out its back door, the untaxed booze she sold, and unregistered guns she could procure—had become a cornerstone of the Cannon family enterprise, and Ramey had done her best to continue their arrangement while Judah was in jail. There was no denying that lately the Fish House was bringing in more money than any other joint the Cannons had a stake in. They needed Sukey and, fortunately, though times might be changing in Bradford County with the coming of the new sheriff, Sukey still needed them.

  Since it was only late morning, and the Red Creek Fish House didn’t officially open for lunch and other business until noon, the place was mostly empty. Despite being a diner of sorts, though more of a “we cook your catch or you eat whatever we feel like serving today” joint, there were no tables inside. The slatted wood floor was littered with trampled peanut shells and it was clear that anyone wishing to eat inside could just stand up or fight for one of the rusty, vinyl-topped stools bolted down in front of the lettuce-green counter. Humming coolers filled with frozen blue crab, slabs of catfish, and glass bottles of soda and beer lined the opposite wall, and in the back corner, an ancient man with grizzled white hair stood hunched over a deep, stainless steel sink, prying open oysters with a sucking pop. The old man didn’t take the slightest notice of Judah and Ramey. Malik, standing behind the cash register and counting out the till, however, did. Malik chewed on the end of the toothpick between his teeth as he closed the register’s drawer and leaned his elbows on the counter.

  “Well, goddamn. Judah Cannon himself up in these parts. Who would’ve thought?”

  Malik grinned like a cat, then stood up straight and hefted himself up on the cooler for the single brass beer tap behind him. He idly swung his legs, sizing Judah up, before turning to Ramey. Malik looked as if he were about to give her the same pointed onceover, almost out of habit, but suddenly thought better of it. Judah’s immediate reaction to anyone eyeing Ramey was clenched fists and a mental calculation of how quickly he could get to the guy in question and knock his teeth down his throat for him, but he also knew that one arched look from Ramey could stop a man dead in his tracks faster than Judah’s fists ever could. Malik’s twinkling eyes immediately dropped to the floor and he rolled the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. Beside Judah, Ramey put her hands on her hips and huffed impatiently.

  “Where’s Sukey, Malik? We ain’t got all day.”

  Malik ran his fingers along the newly shaved lines buzzed into the side of his head and flicked his eyes back up to Ramey. He started to answer, but Isaac, Malik’s older brother, came through the open back door and stamped his unlaced Timberlands. He shook his head when he saw Judah and Ramey.

  “Man, you couldn’t pay me to be you right now.”

  Judah’s eyes narrowed.

  “I thought Sukey wanted to see us.”

  Isaac, still shaking his head, gestured for them to follow.

  “Oh, she do.”

  *

  Dinah hauled the knot of damp clothes out of the dryer and l
et the rattling metal door snap shut. She shook out a pair of wrinkled jeans and held them up against the sunlight streaming into the laundry room, grimacing. Everything would have to go over the warped shower curtain rod shearing her tiny bathroom in two. There was no use speaking to the Blue Bird’s manager about the washing machine that refused to drain after it rinsed or the dryer that only tumbled the clothes around without any heat. Last she’d checked, Pervis had disappeared into one of the “red light rooms,” as Dinah thought of them, with his arm tight around the shoulders of one of the sisters. She’d watched the manager coming and going long enough to know his routine and she knew he’d be occupied for at least another hour. With a frustrated groan, Dinah wadded up her jeans and stuffed them into the trash bag she was using for a laundry basket. She doubted Pervis would’ve given her the time of day anyhow.

  Dinah started to heft the sagging plastic bag to her shoulder, but dropped it on top of the dryer when she heard the familiar, and obnoxious, growl of a V8. The door to the laundry room had long since been ripped off its hinges and she crossed to the bright opening in the wall and leaned one hip against the concrete blocks. Sure enough, Elrod. He clambered down out of his jacked-up Bronco with his belly jiggling over his jeans and waved. Dinah waved back, waiting to see who was in the passenger’s seat. The door opened, a crushed beer can hit the dirt and rolled, and then another, equally big and ungraceful, man descended. It had to be Levi Cannon. Dinah raised her hand to him as well, but Levi only scowled and turned away to say something to Elrod, busy trying to suck in his stomach so he could tuck in the front of his Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt. Elrod glanced again at Dinah, grinned sheepishly, and nodded. Dinah watched as both men took their time crossing the parking lot. From Elrod’s swagger, she knew why he’d come. She ducked back into the laundry room and leaned against the washing machine, waiting.

  “Damn, girl, look at you. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”