“And the whole town would be against her,” Tony said. “Now she’s their savior.”
Night came and Fritz still hadn’t returned. All day Cricket couldn’t keep still, moving from the back to the front of the house, walking the neighborhood, and circling back to the Holadays’. She felt bad that she was distracted while playing with Grace and Diesel, upset by Fritz’s absence and the murderous events of the last twelve hours.
Diesel and Grace followed her into the candlelit kitchen, where she got a drink of water from one of the several plastic gallon jugs Tony had recently filled. She finally kneeled and hugged them both. Grace pressed her head against Cricket’s, and Cricket felt a surge of love that she had been cool towards for hours, obsessed with her own fears and troubles. Tears burned her face.
From the front porch, Ron called to her. “Take a look at this.”
The rocket car pulled up in front with the Brazilian and only her driver. Mrs. Holaday kept Grace inside.
“We need to talk,” the Brazilian said, as Cricket rushed across the lawn, gun drawn.
“You’re dead,” Cricket said, holding the gun to her temple.
“Beautiful night for a drive,” the Brazilian replied, smiling at Cricket. “I promise I’ll have you back home in an hour.”
“Where’s Fritz?”
“Love interest? Have no idea. But the dog’s welcome.”
“And there’s an officer—Officer Holden. He couldn’t find his wife and kid.”
“It’s flattering that you believe me to be omnipresent. What, has someone given you a taste of heaven? I’d much prefer you came to my side without the influence of drugs.”
Cricket kept the gun pointed and glanced to see Diesel sitting patiently on the porch.
She holstered the gun and called Diesel, and saw Tony aiming his rifle at the Homecoming Cougar. Cricket stepped into the car behind her hostess, and Diesel joined her.
“Cricket!” Tony and Sister yelled, yelling a second time as the rocket ship coasted away.
“Please, don’t bore me with questions about today—”
“People died!”
“And I prevented more from dying.”
“Bull—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, let’s drop the tit for tat. You need to listen. If you don’t like what you hear then you can blow my head off.”
“With pleasure.”
“Glad that pleasure is still an ingredient. Murder without it is so unamusing.”
They drove and Cricket listened, one hand on Diesel and the other on her Glock.
“We’re both Catholic girls. You need to hear my story.”
“Where are we going?”
“Just driving. It’s a beautiful summer night. But we both know fall is in the air.”
“And death.” Cricket glimpsed the waning moon. Her dad had once said the moon in decline looked like it was being eaten.
“Sure. Hey, is your guy the Jimmy Stewart fella?”
“You bet.”
“Not my type. Which makes us almost best friends. No competition, no jealousy—the bane of womenfolk since the Garden of Eden.”
They cruised the dark streets of Little Falls. A few kerosene lanterns and candles lit the interiors of home. The stars were numerous overhead through the trees. Colder, with snow on the ground, and you’d call it a Kincaid Christmas.
“I haven’t competed for a man in a long time. Women, now that’s different. But of course my story starts with a boy.”
The Brazilian leaned against the side of the car and brought her legs up.
“So you’re feeding the kids in town drugs,” Cricket shouted.
“Oh, goodness. Kids are always doing drugs. I got them off the bad stuff and turned them onto heaven. A God drug with vitamins. I use chicory flowers for its pretty color and a few other herbs and flowers full of vitamin C. We were collecting it the day your dad was shot out of the sky and taking care of scavengers along the way. I gave no orders for your dad’s death or for the attack on you. Can’t keep my eye on all the troops. I suspect your dad’s attackers were doing meth that morning. Nonetheless, heaven’s not for you. You have a good dose of the spiritual without boosters. You just need to refine your direction.”
“Just an innocent drug dealer?” Cricket knew that if she killed the Brazilian, her army of gangbangers and bikers would be loose on the town within hours, fighting for the top spot. This woman didn’t have only heaven in her drug arsenal. There were more drugs and power plays afoot, but the Brazilian’s version of law and order had given Little Falls a breather from full-blown anarchy. Cricket needed Fritz and the cavalry.
“Actually, a very proactive dealer. Let’s save chemistry class for another time. I want you to hear my story.”
Cricket pulled out the Glock, rested it on her leg, pointed at her hostess.
The Brazilian glanced down at the gun on Cricket’s lap and smiled lewdly. “My, that’s a big one. Keep it out. I like looking at it.” She shook her head like she was shaking off a great temptation.
“Anyway, we were twelve at summer camp and there was this boy that both my girlfriend Beth and I had our eye on. She played it down but I knew better, and talked openly of my feelings. We were in Cook Forest hiking one morning. I was in the lead when I turned and saw an enormous black bear approaching my friend. I watched and did nothing; said nothing. I froze. When the animal pounced on her I ran and never looked back. I can still hear her screams.” The Brazilian paused and they started uphill. The rocket car slowed, fighting gravity.
“I had guilt for years, not survivor’s guilt, but guilt over the fact that I had consciously withheld my warning. Perhaps it would have made no difference, but at least she would have left this world knowing she had a friend.”
“You don’t seem like someone capable of feeling guilt.”
“Thank you, but at one time I did. It took me a few years to face what I had done, I mean, face it in the daylight, nothing hidden or distorted. I had sinned greatly and it tore me up. Finally, before college, I went to a priest.”
They continued to drive about town, slowly, up and down the dark streets. Cricket wondered if the rocket ship ever had had silver wings.
“The priest said there was no way I wouldn’t help a friend. He said I froze, went into shock, and all that crap about time slowing down, moving in glue. Being totally truthful, I told him my first reaction at the time was hey, I get the boy.”
“You told him that—about the boy—getting the boy?”
“Yeah. He just blew it off.”
“You should have listened to him.”
“He was absolutely wrong.” The Brazilian turned completely in her seat, kneeling on it facing Cricket. “I wanted forgiveness for my sin. But in his glib way there was no sin. He abandoned me to my sin, and I instantly fell in love with it. It was a triumph. The sin I wanted to be absolved from, I now embraced. I had done nothing wrong.”
“That’s pretty wacko.”
“You should fall in love with your big sin. The jump in IQ is cosmic.”
“You’re just full of crazy ideas tonight.”
The Brazilian shrugged and slid back into her seat. “Unless you treasure your sin, it’ll ride your ass until the day you die.”
A new turmoil arose inside Cricket: does she know about the abortion? She quickly concluded no way, and left it at that. She promised herself the Brazilian would never live rent-free in her brain just as the Amazon whipped around, hands on the back of the seat, leaning into Cricket’s car, towering over her, pushing into her space.
“I almost forgot to tell you the end of my lovely story. You see, the priest had to be punished. So that very day, after my confession, penance, and a long list of platitudes that reduced my sin to an issue—God, how I hate that word—I seduced him, and left him forever imprinted with my scent. And enough guilt to last a lifetime.”
PART III
KNIGHTS, DAMES, AND THUGS
35
Song and Dance<
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“All those good men murdered,” Fritz said, staring at his drink, sitting next to Cricket on his parents’ porch swing. After the parade and getting Grace safely back home, one of his runners came with information about several neighborhoods on Cleveland’s east side pulling together for protection. Fritz flew into Cleveland and with several Guardsmen spent the day drilling the residents on tactics, inspecting weapons, and how to fight up and down the street as a unit to save their lives and their homes.
He said, “I’ve got to get out tomorrow morning and meet with the families of the murdered men. You think the Brazilian is behind this?”
“Of course. I don’t have the proof. But she’s definitely dealing drugs.”
“No police to investigate.”
“She has the mayor and his sidekicks telling everyone that she saved the cops at the station.”
“Maybe she’s just a crazy opportunist. And lucked out being at the head of the group of thugs—”
“That she controls like an army.”
“If that’s true, she had to be involved in the local drug trade for years to command bikers and gangbangers. Besides, today I found out she has real competition. The EMP attack stranded one of the Mexican cartel’s bigwigs in Cleveland. He’s making good use of his downtime.”
“She’s teamed up with the cartel?”
“I don’t think so. The Brazilian’s probably not even on their radar if she’s playing with designer drugs for some New Age religion. The cartel’s using ‘lights out’ to clean up the competition throughout the state. They’re looking to restart the heroin runs between Mexico and here.”
With market-share loss due to marijuana’s legalization in the U.S., the cartel had started growing poppies in Mexico, producing cheap heroin, ridding themselves of the headache of shipping it in from Afghanistan. A win-win scenario that made the drug lords much richer.
Fritz said, “They’re very single-minded and probably not interested in taking over a Catholic church in a small bedroom community. Not very profitable.”
“Money’s kind of worthless right now.”
“There are all kinds of currency: power is one of them, especially over people; having the smallest and largest luxuries in a dark world is priceless. The Brazilian knows that. And she’s probably smart enough to stay out of the cartel’s way. The murder of our cops could very well be connected to them, handing out a contract for some officer’s past arrest, or testifying in some drug trial…”
Cricket found Fritz’s hand and held it tight.
He added, “So, she really expects the world’s going to stay dark?”
“Yeah, it’s thrilling for her.”
“I know what the cartel wants: run the heroin trade for the next thousand years—”
“Exactly, but they want the lights on and cash circulating again, and geniuses inventing new digital toys, tailors making five-thousand-dollar suits, Arabian horses in the backyard, state-of-the-art jets that don’t fall out of the sky.”
“What the hell does she want?”
“Getting people to believe the current state of affairs is the new normal. She actually told me tonight we’re ‘going back to nature at the speed of light.’”
“Going back centuries.” He shook his head in dismay. “I’ve sent word to Cleveland Command to head the National Guard this way once Columbus frees them up. Whether it’s her or the cartel behind the chaos right here in Little Falls, I want it crushed.”
“What do we do in the meantime?”
“Knock some sense into that silly mayor, make the police station secure, and if she breaks the law arrest her ass and lock her up until civil authority with real backbone is restored.”
The conversation ended when Grace walked onto the front porch in her nightshirt smiling and looking sleepy, the ends of her hair still wet from a cool bath. She sat on Cricket’s lap and circled her arms around the aviator, their heads touching. This moment was more than a respite from strategies for survival or profiling the mad sun goddess of Little Falls. Cricket felt that God had placed wildflowers in her lap.
36
A Knight on Duty
The next morning the Brazilian’s rocket car was parked downtown in front of a closed restaurant. The driver, a heavy middle-aged man, wearing a dark suit and a straw fedora, was reading a novel and looked up only after Fritz shouted in his ear that he wanted answers from him.
“Sir, you’re not paying my salary and you’re not a police officer.”
“I’m a captain in the U.S. Air Force who’s gonna kick your ass.”
“And I’m a citizen who will hold your hat while he kicks your fat ass,” Cricket said.
The man closed the book, marking the page with his thumb. “She won’t be back until later this week.”
“C’mon,” Cricket said. “So you’re just going to sit here through rain and shine?”
“That’s correct. That’s what I get paid for.”
The man opened the book and started reading again, impervious to beatings and bad weather.
At the entrance of the park a dozen residents solemnly gathered around tables with past news articles and pictures of the slain police officers. Nearly all the men and some of the women were armed. Cricket waved at Officer Holden, who was carrying his child and had his wife at his side. There was no sign of the mayor or the Brazilian and thankfully no bikers.
Cricket and Fritz walked over to a table of memorabilia closest to the street and entered a heated discussion.
A brunette with a baby in her left arm said, “She took back the police station for us and saved my husband who was inside. And because of her we have hot water this morning. Natural gas is flowing in the pipes again. I say pin a medal on her.”
“She did it with thugs,” an elderly man replied, standing on the sidewalk.
“It wasn’t thugs that fixed power generators and arranged for food and supplies to be delivered.”
“Who knows what she’s really up to? She giveth and taketh away. I think she just got rid of some undesirables in her organization and neatly reduced the police force in Little Falls by two-thirds.”
“Instead of a new conspiracy, maybe we should be thankful the night ended with lives saved,” the brunette said.
Cricket intervened. “By the time I got there, Madame Savior had restored law and order. Let’s see how long it lasts.”
“We can’t be fighting amongst ourselves,” Fritz said. “I have conflicting emotions about this woman but am sure glad lives were saved. Let’s start by coordinating with the police for neighborhood watches. I’m George Holaday’s son.”
The woman and the man nodded, a moment of agreement.
Cricket said, “Captain Holaday pilots the P-51 Mustang. He saved a number of us just a month ago. Not far from here.”
“Cricket’s getting checked out in the Mustang.” Fritz circled his arm around her. “We’re going to fly reconnaissance every day for the next week and scout for gangs.” He paused and looked at the woman and baby, and the man, who listened while staring at the sidewalk. “Are you two okay?”
“We’re neighbors,” the man said to the brunette, “and we’re going to stay that way.”
“Thanks, Bernie.” The woman said to Fritz, “We’ve got neighbors and friends who stay locked in their homes. None of them are down here. My husband and I can’t get them to commit to a simple neighborhood patrol.”
“Keep trying,” Fritz said.
Bernie nodded sadly and touched the woman’s shoulder. “Sorry, Jan, I got so worked up. Sure glad Howard is okay.”
Fritz and Cricket moved among the small groups of people talking, some arguing, when they spotted Sister Marie and Grace, trailed by Diesel. The young girl ran straight to Cricket and so did the big Lab.
“I expected more people,” Sister Marie said. “There should be hundreds gathered, making plans for their mutual protection.” She took a step closer to Cricket. “We swung by Saint Andrew’s on the way down, and there are people
outside the church carrying on quite inappropriately.”
“Some people weren’t wearing any clothes,” Grace said matter-of-factly. “It’s not very smart, I told Sister, with the sun so hot. I think they’ll get sunburned really badly.” It was only ten in the morning, but the sun and humidity were already oppressive.
“Father Danko came out and talked with them.” Sister took a long breath, signaling she couldn’t continue with Grace present. “You and Fritz need to go see him today.”
“We will,” Cricket affirmed, looking about, spotting the mayor strolling in from the north side of the park.
Someone shouted his name, but he made a beeline for Cricket and her group.
The mayor wore a blue Hawaiian shirt and white chinos. He addressed Fritz, rambled on with excuses still some ten feet away, as though cautiously talking down an angry dog. Cricket saw a new shade of red on Fritz’s face.
“What the hell did you do last night?” Fritz said. “You left with the bikers that drove those men to their deaths!”
“We stopped the killing, for God’s sake,” the mayor pleaded. “When I left with the Brazilian we were headed to the police station—but we took fire a block away and diverted, got separated from the cops and the bikers. I had no idea it was a setup. You know the infighting that goes on in gangs: one group … animals … wanted the cops gone—all their guns. The other keeps cool with their drug stuff and whatever religious thing that woman has going on.”
“Maybe you should leave and come back with another story,” Cricket said, and Sister Marie walked off with Grace, calling Diesel, who happily left the serious-sounding humans for the two who had showered him with love and games all morning long.
Cricket added, “She eliminated trouble in her own ranks, wrecked the police force, and came out of this a hero.”
“Thanks to her you can go home now and take a hot shower,” the mayor said. “What, jealous of her success?” He straightened his shoulders and added back the inches he lost at his arrival, dancing the hangdog shuffle. “She cared enough for this town, had the foresight, the brilliance, to protect the electrical components for the big generators that back up our water and gas facilities. That’s visionary.”
Pulse of the Goddess: American Blackout Book One Page 18
