I looked at Ben for a sign that I wasn’t losing my mind. He was crying too. “The ocean will flood and the swamps will creep, to find the sinners where they sleep."
“To find the sinners where they sleep,” Katy sang once more, by herself. “How do you know the words?” I said.
“Jane told me.” She wiped her nose on the sleeve of the old coat. “That’s what they were singing just before they killed her.”
Man, I thought, I have to get the hell out of here.
ONE
Even though sun fell at my back, the sky ahead was still thick with rain. Through the stink of wet concrete and neoprene I could smell my mountains.
My Appalachians.
For better or worse, like how a dog belonged to its fleas.
A quickly moving front had streaked the sunny sky with charcoal clouds that dropped a quick half-inch of cold water onto the ground. Caught in the grip of the dying storm, my mountains gasped for a few more breaths of the fading evening light. Fog had settled in the river valley. A sprinkling of street lights made this lonely part of the world seem even lonelier. Coming back to Ohiopyle to work on the river hadn’t been the therapy I’d hoped for.
Just a few ridges east and fifty miles south rested the mountains that I’d been running from. For the last five months I tiptoed around the shadow of Jane’s funeral and the curse that may have killed her. I didn’t believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy or God, so for the life of me I couldn’t understand why this curse bothered me. It had never occurred to me that the mountains themselves somehow played a part in this. If that were the case, I’d have to do a hell of a lot more running to not end up in a grave myself.
The day after the funeral I made good on my vow not to let fate push me around like it had my parents and I split. I decided I’d rather dig my own grave and lay myself into it than let superstition have its way with me. And just like I told Katy and Ben, the next time I closed that front door I’d leave forever. Without a plan, I went back to campus and tried to find friendly faces. In the end, there was only one face friendly enough to let me in from the cold.
Alex.
She had a way that made me feel safe, like nothing could hurt me. I didn’t know if it was her naive expectations about what the world had in store for her or her ideas about how far people would go to prove a point, but that time with her existed in a part of my mind reserved for Thanksgiving dinners and drive-in movies. But after just a few weeks in Morgantown I realized a life with her wouldn’t be easy. Alex had just broken off an engagement with her high school sweetheart—her daddy said she was too young. Alex came from money and was under a lot of pressure to succeed. She went on family vacations and pledged a sorority. I’d just dropped out of school for the second time in four years. I got scared and left to spend a few cold weeks in an empty guide house.
Truth was I still felt blood on my hands for not doing more to help Jane or avenge her death. Maybe it didn’t mean I had to pick up a gun and kill every last Lewis where he stood, but without ever letting myself have those kinds of thoughts, I’d never know. My worst fear, perhaps, was realizing, or remembering, that I could’ve done something differently. I feared Ben might be right about the feud.
The rest of the guides had cleared out all ready. Probably on their second round of Yuengling by now. I, on the other hand, was stalling. It was just me and the old life jackets and broken kayak paddles. The change house stunk of old pile fleece and foot fungus. When I started working on the river my senior year of high school, the job felt like the best thing in the world. So far this spring it just felt like work. Definitely not worth dropping out of college for. I hung my life jacket and helmet and spray jacket to let them air out.
My Jeep was parked on the other side of the playground, but even through the swing set and monkey bars I could see a blond wearing cowboy boots sitting on my bumper fooling with her phone. Girls love raft guides like rabbits love clover, and that didn’t make her much different than any of the others. But she wasn’t any other. And the minute I saw her I knew I was in trouble.
On the way to my Jeep I put my head down and tried to think of what I could say to justify what I did to her this winter.
“Henry,” she said as I got within earshot. She put her phone away and walked past the sliding board, still covered with last fall’s leaves. “For a second I was starting to freak out. Like, maybe—”
“Holy shit, Alex.” Those weren’t the exact words I meant to use even if the sentiment was precise. Her hair was longer—it fell halfway down her back and was much lighter than I remembered, probably from laying out. She already had a hint of suntan starting. Like she was spending more time partying at Blue Hole than she was spending in class.
The scent of her Chanel took me straight back to this winter in their apartment, the one she used to share with Jane. What really bugged me more than anything was the idea that if she could find me anybody could. Like playing hide-and-seek in too small a house.
“Well, hello to you, too.” She put her phone into her purse and folded her arms.
She’d been crying. “Sorry. I didn’t know nobody was supposed to find you.”
She forced a smile and unbuttoned her jacket. From the first time I’d met her she’d been engaged in a series of minor struggles with inanimate things she could never beat: her phone, her purse, her hair. So much so, that fidgeting became as much a part of who she was as her voice or her name.
“Facebook gave you up, if you really want to know,” she said. “A bunch of Phi Delts were on a rafting trip last weekend. Saw you in a picture. Probably should’ve called you first. Too late now, right?”
She had on jeans and a short little jacket that left a little bit of skin around her waist exposed. I made sure I didn’t get caught looking. Her blue eyes weren’t as soft or round as I remembered. Like she was tired or on alert. And she was wearing her cowboy boots. Which made me smile.
We strolled back toward my old Jeep. My dad thought it was stupid to buy a vehicle I couldn’t haul a load of firewood in, which was precisely why I loved it. I said, “It’s fine that you’re here,” and tried to change the tone of my voice to assure her that it really was fine. “I don’t know what the hell I’m even hiding from anymore.”
She put her hands into her back pockets and shrugged. After an awkward pause, I said, “How are you?”
Her blue eyes looked for answers from someplace far beyond this little side street. “Everything is different. This semester…it wasn’t the easiest. I didn’t finish. All the big plans I made for this summer and I couldn’t even drag myself out of bed after you left.”
“Alex.” I tried to touch her elbow. “Sorry for that. Getting close seemed like a really dumb idea at the time.”
“Like it’s your fault? You were a distraction, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Now, leaving the way you did, like some kind of creeper while I was in class? That makes you an asshole.” She pulled away from my touch. Her expression remained the same, like waving a surrender flag for the last five months had finally taken its toll on her. Ignoring my olive branch, she said, “You told me to call you if I ever found anything that looked important. This was in with Janie’s stuff.”
Alex held a manila envelope stuffed with paper scraps and notes of all sizes— names, addresses, lines of verse that looked like song lyrics or poems, receipts, pages from phone books. She handed me a piece of notebook paper without making eye contact. The handwriting was Jane’s, not mine, but the big cursive loops and circles over the ‘I’s told me it was from when she was much younger. I realized that I didn’t want to see it.
There were two columns—Baby Girl Names and Baby Boy Names.
The first name was ‘Henry.’
I handed it back to her. “I barely knew her.”
She put it into the envelope. “What is it you think you don’t know?”
She handed me a picture of Janie and me with my mom and dad. We were at my pap’s house with our winter coats on. Jan
ie had a bunch of books in her hand. There were two garbage bags of wrapping paper sitting by the door. Ben was on the stairs, watching.
I said, “Christmas Eve. On our way home to wait for Santa.” I touched Janie’s face in the picture. “She was harmless, Alex. Always so good. Never mean. How could this happen?”
My mind was still racing and my head wouldn’t fully let me appreciate the pain
I felt. I asked, “Did she know I loved her?”
“She knew.” Alex started to cry. “All she could do was love. She didn’t know hate or mean or angry.”
Alex sniffed and composed herself after another long minute, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She took the picture from me and put it away. The last thing she had for me was a white envelope. My name was written on it in black ink. I carefully pried the sealed edge open with my pinkie.
Alex had kind of turned her back, like when somebody takes a phone call and you try to give them a little privacy. For a second I thought it was rude not to let her read it too, but decided that the note was just for me. I could share later if I wanted.
The note, written in Jane’s careful handwriting, said:
Henry,
Sometimes this all seems like one long, bad country song that started way before Mom left. Day or night doesn’t matter, the song never ends. Sleep and awake are pretty much the same for me because there’s always a new verse or chorus. What else can it mean when I see shadows move in the dark, or leaves blow with no wind? When I feel like I’m drowning in my own bed?
It means I’m next, and I suppose I knew all along it would be me. Katy and Rachael are way too strong, and Chloe is too young. Grandma isn’t directly in the path of the bad blood. Maybe it’s because her people are from Pittsburgh and aren’t a threat to them, although I can’t figure out why she never became part of their plot, even if just for spite. Mom left because she knew she couldn’t defend herself the way the rest can. That leaves just me. I’m blood and I’m an easy target.
There are ways to protect yourself, though, things you can say to defend yourself when you are sleeping. I honestly think that’s how I’ve survived this long on my own. They’re here though, in town, looking for me. I see Lewis Lumber trucks and get hang-up calls. Billy is in the halls between classes. He came down to Black Bear nights when I worked. You probably wonder why I didn’t get help or do more to keep them away, but how do you go to the police and tell them your tap water tastes salty and your milk keeps going bad too fast?
There are also words to say that can hurt somebody, or make it so they can’t see or can’t breathe, to control snakes or to make people hallucinate. I know you don’t believe in any of this stuff, and that is why it is so important for you to make sure Rachael helps you. You have to trust her and believe that they will do everything they can to help you.
In this envelope is everything I know about the Lewises and their little grudge. This includes times that I saw Darren or Billy in town in case something ever happens to me, songs and hexes that will protect you. Some of the things in the envelope are very important, I’m just not sure how or why yet.
Tell Dad I’m sorry I didn’t make it home this year. I thought I might surprise you on Christmas Eve, but I came to my senses and went to mass instead.
Nobody can stop this. What will happen to me will happen no matter what anybody does. I love you, and I hope something in here helps you.
Jane
I tucked the letter back in the manila envelope and fastened it shut. My jaw hurt from clenching my teeth. All I could do was shake my head. Alex had been watching out of the corner of her eye like she expected to see some kind of emotional response from me. But I didn’t cry back in January and I sure wasn’t going to cry now. I took a few deep breaths and rubbed my jaw.
I said, “Janie said she knew it was going to happen. Didn’t she ever say anything to you? I mean, the coroner said the toxicology report came back negative and the sheriff said there was no reason to suspect it was anything more than an accident. Did she act depressed or out of it or anything?”
“Henry, after the semester ended I went home. I tried to get her to come with me, but she lied to me and said she was going home, too.” Alex leaned against my Jeep and tilted her head so a few strands of dark blond hair fell over her eyes. Finally, buttoning up her jacket, she said, “I knew something was going on. But not from Janie. I begged and begged her to come home with me.”
“How did you know then?”
“My mom called me right before Christmas and said something big was up. Her mum had heard from a cousin that trouble was brewing and I was the cause of it. That I was ‘up here in Morgantown running down the Lewises.’”
I set the envelope on the hood and pulled her to me. She began to shake. “My mom said her cousins are a hateful, vengeful bunch.”
As calmly as I could, I said, “I don’t think I know how this relates—”
“Yeah, Henry, you do.” She backed away, for the first time looking more scared than sad or mad. She unbuttoned her jacket. “The Lewis boys—they’re my mom’s cousins. My dad’s from Fairmont but my mom’s from down Elkins. Her mother was born in Lewisburg, so, my grandmother is Charlie Lewis’s first cousin.”
She sniffed the rest of her tears away, then jammed her hand into her purse for her phone. After seeing she had no new texts or status updates, she said, “My mom says they have it in their heads that I betrayed the family, but I didn’t pick Janie as a roommate. I didn’t even know her until I was a freshman. The university put us together and I didn’t do anything wrong. And I had no idea how horrible things were until January when Janie drowned. I don’t know these people—maybe I saw them at a wedding or whatever. I don’t know. But I’m not a Lewis and now they want to hurt me for ‘slandering’ the family. That’s the word my mom used—’slandering.’”
“Just calm down. I don’t blame you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I put my hand on her shoulder and tried to pull her toward me.
“You’re not getting it. Or maybe I’m not explaining it right. But I’m not worried about whether or not you blame me. What I’m worried about is what my mom said.” Alex pointed to a pair of suitcases, a garment bag and a little matching duffle bag on the ground by the Jeep’s passenger-side door.
“What did your mom say, exactly?”
“That you are the only one who can protect me from Odelia Lewis and her dirty, evil ways.”
I put my hands up and tried to wave her off. The superstitious bullshit annoyed me more now than ever. “Alex, I’m not sure—”
She cut me off. “My mom said I have to stay with you.”
TWO
Billy Lewis was a thorn—nothing more, nothing less. I could yank him from my heel and smash him any time I wanted. But he wasn’t a murderer. We went to high school together before he went down to live with his grandpap, Charlie, so I knew him the best out of the whole bunch. He was a poacher, a thief, and a low-level weed dealer, but he wasn’t a murderer. Murder was more his grandpap’s style. Billy had once bragged about stealing a bunch of medical equipment from the clinic in Elkins before burning it down. In my mind he wasn’t as much evil as bad. A delinquent. Not the devil. Yet.
Billy Lewis and his kin represented the cold I’d catch if I ever went back home. Growing up, I thought every family had an enemy who stole shit from their property, who burned barns down and raised the kind of hell that kept your parents up at night worrying. Stealing livestock and poaching was everyday stuff for the Lewises. Family traditions passed down like making apple butter and bailing hay for me and Janie and Katy and Ben. Kid stuff. And the Lewises got worse the older they got.
My dad talked about them the same way he’d talk about cancer or Nazis. Billy’s uncle Len was a professional prison snitch. He was serving time for knocking off a bunch of Walgreens for pseudoephedrine to make meth. Before that he got caught stealing hillbilly heroin from the VA in Clarksburg. Billy’s cousin, Curtis, paid for police protection for his meth
lab from money he made dealing at high school football games. Billy’s grandfather, Charlie Lewis, once stabbed a guy with a screwdriver for making eyes at his wife in a supermarket.
But my folks never said more to me and Janie than they had to. Everything I knew about the Lewises, I overheard. Growing up, they were the only boogeymen I ever feared.
These mountains, for so many years were like a prison. Even though a world existed beyond these ridges, I never quite knew how to get there. Things like hunting season, buckwheat cakes, and ginseng had been written into my DNA.
So I guess I couldn’t blame myself for letting the idea of revenge root itself in my mind. It was as much a part of me as my bones and skin.
A slight scrape gave way to the fluid embrace of the river as the little rubber raft left the put-in beach. With nothing but water beneath us, we floated across the frictionless green river. The water’s surface swirled with the effects of the uneven underwater topography. A leaf falling into the river couldn’t be certain if it would end up upstream or downstream from where it landed.
Sunrise hadn’t woken me up this morning. Thinking about Billy Lewis dropping Jane into a frigid river kept me awake all night. The sheriff told us she slipped on ice while jogging out by Deckers Creek. He believed she slid down the bank.
I didn’t buy it for a second, even back in January. Their apartment was way up on the other side of Ruby Hospital. Alex said when they jogged, they ran to the stadium and then up to Star City or out past the Mileground. But back in January I’d been able to suppress my suspicion because of the way the rest of my family gave into it. I felt like I owed it to Jane to keep my head.
We ferried across the current below Ohiopyle Falls then allowed the flow to carry us back to the trip. Mike Duff was telling the rafters about eddying out. He loved this part of the job—the BS and the bad jokes. Stuff like, “These are paddles, not oars. Oars stand on street corners and give you syphilis for money.”
Hellbender (Murder Ballads and Whiskey Book 2) Page 3
