Through Darkest America

by Neal Barrett

  But they were gone, then, and there was no one in the room to listen. All he could hear was his own heartbeat. All he could feel was the pain coming back into his foot again, and the awful coldness of the room that went all the way to his bones.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The waiting. That was it, he decided. The waiting was supposed to be the thing. Make him sit there naked and cold with his legs spread out and plenty of time to think about what they were going to do to him. So when they did finally come he’d be begging to tell them what they wanted to know.

  That’s what scared him more than anything. Knowing that Lewis had lied about all of it—and maybe Kari, too— just to get him thinking everything was all right again. They’d set up the whole business just for this and he didn’t know anything to tell anyone…

  His mind raced. Maybe there was something. Maybe he could make up something! Tell them he did see Pardo hide the guns. That Lewis was right—they were back there at the rise where they’d camped. He had watched Pardo and Kin and Jigger put them there when the troopers attacked. He’d seen the whole thing, but he was too scared to tell them before because he’d figured they’d think he had something to do with it, and that wasn’t so.

  Would they believe that? They’d have to! Lordee, there wasn’t anything else he could do!

  They wouldn’t stop. Not right away. He might as well get used to that. They’d keep it up for a while, just to make sure. But they wouldn’t do it too long. It wouldn’t be as much. He’d keep telling it over and over and they’d—

  His heart stopped. The door opened behind him. Footsteps on the damp floor. More than one man. Two. Maybe more. The cold swept through him. He shook all over. Lewis, then. And the others. They’d start, now. What would they do first? The other foot? The same one? Oh God, not between his legs please don’t let them do that!

  One of the men walked around in front of him. Howie had never seen him before.

  A soldier. Heavy brows, short hair, and a wide mouth. He stood perfectly still, studying Howie carefully. He squatted down and inspected the bottom of his foot. Howie winced, but the man didn’t hurt him. He got up, left, then came back with a torch. Howie blinked in the sudden brightness. The soldier stood there another moment, holding the torch high. His face was like stone. Then he put the torch in a holder and went away. Howie heard him say something but couldn’t hear what it was.

  “What!” The voice behind him roared. Howie jumped against his bonds.

  “Major Lewis… you responsible for this?”

  “Sir…”

  “Just answer, godamn you!” It was a harsh, rasping voice, like a man with something caught in his throat.

  “Sir…” Lewis hesitated. “I explained that. We questioned the boy about the guns…”

  “You did more than that, Major.”

  “Sir, we had to establish—”

  “You had orders!” the man snapped. “The boy was not to be touched!”

  “Yes, sir. I’d like to point out…”

  “Don’t you point out nothing to me, Major. What you do is get yourself out of this room. Fast. You hear?”

  The door opened, then closed again. Howie let out a long sigh of relief. He could have hollered out loud. He didn’t know who the man was and didn’t much care. He’d given Lewis pure hell for what he’d done, that was enough! They’d let him go, now. At least, there wouldn’t be any more business with the pincers. Maybe he could…

  The soldier moved around in front of him again. This time the other man was with him. The soldier was helping him, like he couldn’t walk well by himself. When they got in front of Howie, the soldier set a little stool down right between Howie’s legs and helped the man down on it. The man looked up at him and smiled.

  “Hello, Howie Ryder. It’s been a long time, boy.”

  Howie stared. A little cry caught in his throat and died there. He knew it was really all over, now. He’d come all the way around again and there was no place else to go. He wasn’t even scared anymore. He knew exactly who the soldiers had gone out to meet in their fancy uniforms and why he was there and what was going to happen.

  Jacob just sat there and smiled, with the terrible, ragged thing that wasn’t a mouth anymore. His face was crossed with ugly white scars, and there were empty black holes where his eyes ought to be.

  “You know me, then,” said Jacob, “that’s good. I’ve been a long time looking, Howie. And I’ve thought about you. Reckon you’ve thought some about me, too.”

  Jacob waited. His smile faded and his face went dark. “I want to hear you!”

  “I…” Howie found his voice. “I don’t guess there’s nothin’ to say.”

  Jacob looked pleased. “Dory here says you growed some. I guess you have. Don’t sound like a boy anymore.” He shook his head thoughtfully. “A lad sure fills out fast ’bout your age. Just springs up like a young tree…”

  Jacob stopped. Pain seemed to crawl quietly over his face, making the white scars move like live things. After a moment, the features relaxed again. “Dory remembers how you was, though,” he said finally. “Got a good look at you when we was up to your Pa’s. Not many seen you then… besides me. They was mostly loadin’ up wagons down at the trees. You remember all that, boy?”

  Howie swallowed. “I remember it.”

  “Lordee,” said Jacob, “there’s a awful lot I remember about that day, and the ones that come before. I can just sit back sometimes and let things come into my head, and see what color the sky gets at morning, and how a fine column of troopers looks riding up a draw on good horses.”

  He savored his thoughts a moment, then leaned toward Howie. “You really growed up, have you? Gettin’ to be a man.” Jacob’s hands searched out blindly and found Howie’s legs. Howie shrank back from the touch. Jacob grinned at that. He let his hands slide up Howie’s legs and over his thighs and come to rest between them. He squeezed lightly, and Howie’s heart stopped. Now, he thought, oh God it’s going to be now…!

  Then Jacob let him go and leaned back on his stool. “You sure ruined me there,” he said soberly. “You tore me up somethin’ awful, Howie. I think about havin’ a woman, and how it is, and then I think about you…”

  “Godamn you!” Howie blurted. He couldn’t stop himself, no matter what. “Just what’d you figure I’d do… walk up and… and shake your hand or something? After what you done to my mother and Papa!”

  Dory started swiftly forward, one hand whipping down in an open fist. Jacob felt him move and waved him back.

  “Howie…” The empty eyes reached out for him and he was sure they could see him, right out of nothing. “I reckon you’re kinda scared, ain’t you, boy?”

  Howie almost laughed. “Yeah,” he admitted, “I kinda am.”

  “What you think I’m goin’ to do to you?”

  “Just about anything.”

  Jacob nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I can see how you might figure. What would you think if I was to tell you I ain’t goin’ to do nothing at all? What’d you say to that?”

  Howie did laugh this time. “I ain’t that dumb,” he said. “I don’t figure you come all this way for talkin’.”

  “Well,” said Jacob, “like I say, I can sure see how you might figure. I’ll tell you something, though, and you can believe me or not. Talking’s ’bout all I did come for and that’s the truth. You done some bad things to me, Howie. But there’s no taking them back, and I don’t blame you for ’em. I’d have done the same thing if it was me.”

  “I… don’t reckon I’m goin’ to believe that,” Howie said warily.

  “Don’t blame you for that, either,” said Jacob. “All I really figure on doing, though, Howie, is telling you what we done to your mother. I think that’s something you ought to hear. I want you to know how we stripped her down naked and wired her to that bed. And how every one of them troopers of mine had her. And while we’re talking, Dory,” he said quietly, “I’d be pleased if you’d get that knife of yours and
take out one of this boy’s eyes. I don’t reckon I got to tell you not to go too fast…”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  A lazy sun dappled the forest floor with shifting coins of gold. He stretched and stared up at the dazzling brilliance, then lay back and closed his eyes. He could hear the drone of bees circling the big oak, and smell the cool crushed odor of fern…

  Without opening his eyes he reached over and let his hands slide down Kari’s soft nakedness. His fingertips brushed the tips of her breasts, wandered past the flat curve of her belly, and came to rest between her thighs…

  Papa looked down at him, his big shadow covering the sun. “That’s wrong, Howie,” he said sternly. “I taught you better, boy. The Book says that if a man do consort with the beasts, then he shall become as the beasts…”

  “No, Papa, it’s Kari. She’s a girl. She ain’t meat! Honest!”

  “Howie, I done everything I could for you. I took you into Bluevale and let you see the stuffed nigger and got you a bone-handled knife. And then you go and do a thing like this.”

  “No, Papa, it’s Kari. She…” He turned to look at her and the big mare grinned up blankly and reached out to grab him between his legs. Howie shrank back in horror…

  “You can look all you want, Howie,” she told him, “but just don’t go feeling around or anything.”

  “Kari?”

  Papa’s arrow dug into her face, just above her mouth. Another quivered in her eye…

  “Don’t, Papa!” Howie cried. “Please don’t!”

  Papa was trying to ready another arrow, but he was having trouble with it. His eyes were black and empty and he couldn’t wipe the dark away without dropping the bow. With his other hand he struggled desperately to keep his belly together, but they’d split it bad and the guts kept falling out in soft puddles to the ground…

  “Just look is all,” said Kari. “Don’t go trying to touch something…”

  When he woke up he knew right where he was and what had happened and just what they’d done to him. He heard his own scream somewhere and then the pain came down hard and put him under again.

  The next time, he prayed for sleep or death or anything, but nothing happened. The hurt was unbearable, but he couldn’t leave it. He knew there were places to go that were dark and soft and quiet where you couldn’t feel anything at all, but he didn’t know how to get there…

  He could see, with his good eye. The gray wall. A spider- web crack like a tree branch winding up past the dim torch. Without moving his head he could look down and see his arms strapped to the chair and his legs spread over the flat logs. Everything seemed all right between his legs. They hadn’t done that yet. They would, though, Howie knew. Jacob was going to take it all.

  There was a dull, rumbling sound somewhere. Like thunder. Or a faraway drum. He listened a minute and it came again.

  He tried to look around the room but the slightest movement of his head sent pain ripping like a knife through his skull. It… Wait, now. That was something worth knowing wasn’t it? He thought a minute. It was hard to think with the pain.

  Pain was bad.

  And good.

  Bad and good at the same time. Could that be so? It was, if he could do it.

  And he could. Because he had to. He couldn’t stay there. He had to get away from the pain. Get away—or give himself to it. Let it take him and put him in that place again. If he couldn’t do it, maybe the pain could do it for him.

  He cried out and cursed himself and begged himself to stop. He shook his head as hard as he could and opened and closed the empty eye again and again and again and it seemed like it took an awfully long time, but he made it.

  It was cold to the bone and Carolee took all the covers. That was just like a little sister—let you freeze your butt off and then next morning sure as light she’d be telling mother it was him that—

  “God, nooooooo!”

  “Hey, easy now.” The big hand clamped his head hard against the back of the chair. “It’s goin’ to hurt, but it’s going to get better. Just sit still, if you can.”

  The man poured something cold as ice into his empty socket. Only it wasn’t cold for long. It was a hot, fiery coal and it burned all the way through his brain and out the back of his head. He couldn’t even get the scream out before the darkness pulled him under.

  He wasn’t gone near long enough.

  When he looked up the man was still there. “Who…” He tried, but couldn’t make the words.

  “I ain’t anyone you know, and no one you’re goin’ to,” said the man. “Is the hurt some better? Don’t try to say nothing. You sure ain’t fit to. That stuff won’t last forever, but it’ll dull the pain some and give you time to rest. What ever good that’ll do you.”

  He came down close to Howie and he could smell the faint odor of sweat and the strong smell of whiskey. “You know he’s comin’ back, don’t you? Reckon I don’t have to tell you that. Son of a bitch! Godamn son of a bitch…”

  The man stumbled in the half light and caught himself on the chair. Howie moaned.

  “Oh, Lordee, I’m sorry about that! I sure didn’t mean to hurt you none. Don’t need that, do you? Know what that bastard’s doing? Well, shit, ’course you don’t. He’s killin’ us all, is what. It ain’t just you. Son’bitch goin’ to have us all dead ’fore it’s over, ’s what he’s goin’ to do! If old Monroe wasn’t coldern’n a stone out there someplace we’d… Listen, boy, if I could I’d be more’n glad to cut your throat for you an’ I know you’d thank me for it. Only I… ain’t got the heart for it no more. Or the stomach, neither. I just can’t, is all. I wish to hell I could…”

  When he came out of it again he wasn’t sure whether he’d dreamed the man or not. The hurt was some better, so maybe it was real. The pain was still there, though—simmering just below the screaming point.

  He wondered how long he’d been in the room. He had no feeling for time anymore.

  An hour? Two? Longer than that. A day or so, maybe. Or a week, for all he knew.

  His throat was parched dry, the sides sticking together making it hard to swallow. He tried to work some spit into his mouth but the motion warned him. It wouldn’t be too hard to wake up the pain again.

  The thunder was closer now. He dully remembered hearing it before. Once, it came so close the room shook and a veil of white dust trickled down the wall in front of him. He watched it, following the slow path with interest.

  “Howie. Come on, now, Howie.

  “What? Papa? Is that you?”

  Jacob’s harsh laughter exploded in his face. Howie came fully awake.

  “By God, boy, you ought to be up there! It is life… it is what a man was born for!” Jacob’s whole body trembled. His voice was near ecstatic. “A soldier don’t need eyes for that. He can feel it and smell it all around him. The world’s bein’ shaped up there. God’s voice is in the heavens!”

  He stopped, like he was coming back from some far place. “Don’t guess you care much ’bout that, do you?” He showed Howie his terrible grin. “Reckon you got other things on your mind. We got a little time for that, too. We will take time, Howie. We surely will.”

  Jacob’s hand reached out. Howie saw what was coming and tried to pull away. A long finger slid over his chest and up his face. He screamed when the finger found what it was looking for, and when he felt himself slide under again, he hoped maybe this time he’d just die and not come back any more…

  The cold water hit his face and set him gasping for breath. It ran down his forehead and hurt terribly when it hit the empty place. He tried to suck in the stray moisture with his tongue.

  The thunder came again, closer than ever, shaking the room and sending gray stones rattling to the floor. Jacob cocked his head and listened. “We ain’t got much time, boy, and I’m sorry for that. Got to get back up there, Got to.” He came close to Howie. So close Howie could smell the sweet odor of death that seemed to cling to the man like an extra skin. “Had to com
e here, though. There’s things between us that has to be. And I know you understand what I’m saying. Things that’s got to be set right, Howie, or it just ain’t no good for either of us. You know that…”

  The empty eyes jerked away from him. “Dory, they need us up there. Get on with it.”

  The blade seemed to come out of nowhere and find itself in Dory’s hand. It flashed torchlight as Dory squatted down and reached out to grasp Howie between the legs.

  Howie’s heart stopped. “Oh, my God please no please no…!”

  “Best think about girls real quick,” Jacob said gravely, “if you ever had any, now’s the time to run ’em all through your mind, boy.”

  Dory pulled him out tight so the blade would slice easy. Howie went rigid and screamed—

  —thunder slammed down like a big fist and sucked the scream right out of him. In a brief instant he saw Dory look up, surprise starting on his face. Then something dark came down, turned his features red, and he was gone.

  Howie gasped for breath and choked on dust. Warm blood filled his ears. The torch was gone. But there was another light up above. Daylight, from a ragged hole in the gray ceiling. He was covered with white powder and small bits of stone. There was blood, too, already clotted with dust, but he decided most of it wasn’t his.

  The thunder had come in from behind and above, driving great chunks of rock before it with a terrible force. The back of the heavy chair had saved him, then; but Dory and Jacob were nowhere to be seen. He supposed they were buried under the rubble at his feet. Blinking against the dusty light, he could see something white against the wall.

  Dory, maybe, or—

  Howie started. Something cold grasped his leg. He looked down and found Jacob’s empty eyes. His head was covered with dust and blood and he was trying to work his mouth, but nothing came out. Kari was standing beside his chair. She gave him a curious glance, then kneeled down, put the pistol against Jacob’s ear, and pulled the trigger. Jacob’s head jerked. His hand let Howie go.