The War Gate

by Chris Stevenson

  “What if there was evidence that said something different?” Avy proposed. “Suppose there was evidence that could prove he was very capable of performing the murder. Can’t you even believe the possibility exists?”

  “That’s nonsense. All of the evidence was clear. Your mother was hopped up on enough drugs to dope a mule. They said it was a contraband subscription. She had the victim’s blood on her, the knife at her side, the trace evidence in her vehicle. She was the one found at the death scene. The trial is over, Avy. You have to understand that—accept the facts. Avalon Labrador, your birth mother, committed a very heinous act. She was arrested, tried, then sentenced for that crime. You would do well to forget any other rumor you’ve heard. You’ll find the truth to your questions in the original arrest report, in addition to all the testimony that followed.”

  Either Lizzy would continue to deny his guilt out of some perverse loyalty, or she had no clue what kind of a monster shared her sheets with her at night. How could the woman be that naive? Avy considered another possibility—Lizzy, the woman she had called mother for all these years, had possessed full knowledge of his guilt all along and had covered for him out of the threat of reprisal.

  Avy took a sip from her cup. “I’m just asking that you think about the real person who is Drake Labrador. I worry about you, Mom. I don’t trust him. There is no love lost between us. I want you to guard yourself against being taken advantage of or harmed. You need to see a clear-cut picture of who you are living with. I don’t think you understand what this man is capable of. I don’t want to hear that you’ve slept with him for twenty years, so you should know what he’s like.”

  “Avy, he’s just not the type.”

  “There is no type. Some of the worst serial killers in history came from ordinary families, Christian upbringing, fine schools, and loving families. I want you to promise me that you’ll leave or get help if anything becomes dangerous in your relationship. I might never see you again after this conversation, but at least I will have followed through on my duty to warn you. Now, you can throw me out of your house for saying such things. It won’t change my opinion of that man. I’m sorry I had to talk to you about all of this. But I’ve never been one to keep my mouth shut.”

  Her mother took a bite of her sandwich, then pushed out a long, agitated sigh. The silence grew thick between them. At last, her mother said, “I can’t fault you for speaking your mind. I never expected you to see a halo over Drake’s head. I know it’s been difficult for you, all of the friction with these years that seem like they’ve been lost to neglect. I don’t think you will ever believe me when I tell you that he loved you in his own special way. I’m sorry you’re so hurt, that you feel the way you do about everything. I wish that I could make it—”

  “This is not about me, Mom,” Avy cut her off. “It never was. I’m a survivor. There isn’t anything I regret about my upbringing, because you were always there for me. This is about him, make no mistake about that. I’m warning you—there’s a storm coming on the horizon, and I don’t want to see you caught up in the hurricane.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Avy, but this ol’ bird can take care of herself.” Her eyes shown with an intensity that Avy had not seen before. “He wouldn’t dare do anything to me. I would have his head.” She broke the steel-hard look for a moment to laugh.

  Avy sighed; it was senseless to pursue it. Trying to convince her would be like asking the sun not to rise. Her mother couldn’t see what was hidden just under the surface because she was wearing blinders. Avy had done what she’d set out to do. There was nothing left.

  Avy took her dishes to the sink. She checked inside a cupboard for garbage bags, hoping to pack up the last of her belongings. She felt a gentle palm on her shoulder, then heard her mother’s soft words.

  “I’m sorry, Avy, but Drake removed most of your items after you left. He cleaned out your bathroom just the other day.”

  Avy felt no resentment when she turned around to face her mother. She took the woman’s extended hand, gave it a gentle squeeze. “I guess I’m not surprised, Mom. You say that he always loved me in his own special way. But I wonder if that includes wiping me out of existence like he did. Now do you see why I question his behavior or motives? Honest to God, he doesn’t even qualify for the human race.” For a moment, something cried out from inside her, a yearning for a decent, loving father. But that part of her life was gone—feelings she would never experience or recapture. Those pent up emotions now came around full circle to haunt her.

  She allowed one tear to drop from her cheek, having never cried about it before. There would be no more.

  Avy hugged her mom one last time, then walked to the front door. She could feel her mother’s stare on her back, but not another word was offered when she stepped out the door.

  She said nothing in the car when they drove away. She only thought about banishing demons, trying to forget that she ever had parents.

  “How’d it work out?” Sebastian asked.

  “It didn’t. She doesn’t think there’s any danger.”

  “Did you tell her everything? You should have laid the whole rotten thing down on her.”

  “I left out the doomed flight—I didn’t get to first base with the other.” She felt a hair’s breath away from snapping at Sebastian. His cynicism didn’t help matters.

  “Some people just aren’t ready for the truth,” said Chubby, driving the speed limit while casually looking out the window. “Every day I deal with people who are in denial of the same crimes that this man committed. It’s a defense mechanism. You can corner a stray dog in an alley, but don’t expect him to lie down helpless. He’s going to fake a charge just to get around you, then run for the hills, hoping to never see you again. Sounds like Drake’s wife is in the same type of denial. You might never get her to see the light. You don’t mess with the gang leader. That’s what Drake is—he’s the Nazi Low-riders, MS-thirteen, and the Aryan Brotherhood all rolled into one.”

  They stopped by the grocery store for a few things. Chubby served as lookout while Avy and Sebastian made the purchases. They were soon on the road again, taking votes for what they would do next. They agreed that returning to the motel held no great joy. The last thing they needed was for their residence to become a claustrophobic fortress, a place that would hem them in without the freedom of escape. They arrived at the decision to act out their lives with some kind of normalcy, given the circumstances. Fear was their worst enemy. They could not allow Drake to play that hand.

  “I vote for entertainment,” said Avy. “Let’s get out in public where we can do something.”

  Since Chubby had discount coupons, they decided on a movie. They dropped off the groceries and drove to the local theater. They took in two showings. One was a romantic comedy while the other ran the espionage-thriller gamut. After four hours, they exited the theater. They traded barbed commentary about both features, picking apart the obvious flaws. But they decided they hadn’t wasted their time, expressing joy for the reprieve. It had been a great stress reliever. They hopped in the car just when the sun dipped in the west.

  “What’s next?” asked Avy. “What else can we do that’s cheap?”

  “I wouldn’t mind showing you something of interest,” said Chubby. “It won’t cost anything. It could even come in handy.”

  “Lead the way,” the two chorused.

  Chubby drove them to the outskirts of town, where the hills rolled away under the canopy of giant walnut trees. The dark of night squeezed in around them while they went off-road up a gorge. Chubby hit the high beams, illuminating an old fire road. They rolled past a broken gate of barbed wire, entering an open area. Chubby pulled his car up a slight rise, then parked in a clearing. He left the engine running.

  The headlights shown on a decrepit water tower sitting on a small hillock surrounded by sage. The massive framework of support timbers held the metal tank fifty feet off the ground.

  “It must be at le
ast a hundred years old,” said Chubby, exiting the car. “She’s a relic for sure. Not many people know about her except the four-wheelers and hikers.”

  Avy got out to stand at the side of the car. She gazed up, seeing faded red lettering across the side of the tank. No Trespassing. She said, “It’s ancient. Why did you bring us here?”

  Chubby retrieved a flashlight from his glove compartment and aimed it at the base of the wooden ladder. “Because it’s the perfect hideaway,” he said. “It’s also a fortress with a great view. I used to come here when I was a kid. There were times when I felt the need to get away from the people at school.” He looked sad for a beat. “But it was also the best hideaway to relax. I used to camp out with my Coleman gear. Can’t say that I didn’t catch it when I got home.” He stifled a laugh.

  Avy looked around. “Where did you camp?”

  “In the round house. Up there.” He swept the flashlight up to show a ragged opening at the base of the tank.

  Avy said, “Oh.”

  Chubby mounted the first rung, glancing over his shoulder. “What are you waiting for?” He began a steady climb up the ladder. The structure moaned like an old woman. Avy could swear that the whole tower structure was leaning about ten degrees off center. She had her doubts about its safety. In spite of the danger, she put her feet on the ladder, beginning the precarious climb up. After all, if it held Chubby, it could hold anyone.

  “You’re both nuts,” said Sebastian.

  “Scaredy cat,” said Avy.

  “Oh, all right.”

  Avy scaled the ladder using precise steps while watching Chubby’s progress above her. When he made it to the tank ledge, he pulled her up the last few feet. Sebastian followed, and then the three ducked through an opening that had been cut out of the metal. The interior of the tank might have spanned forty feet in diameter with a height of thirty feet. The heavily planked floor harbored a variety of trash—old mattresses, beer cans, twigs, girlie magazines, cigarette butts, and candy wrappers. The inside walls displayed a mosaic of graffiti, spray-painted or rendered in felt pen. One autograph declared Peter busted my cherry here, August 4TH, 1989. Another proclaimed Grunge Rules!

  “Here’s my writing,” Chubby announced, panning the light so Avy could read the inscriptions on the metal wall.

  Raymond Hammersmith found this place August 1959

  The Land That Time Forgot

  Virgin Planet

  Have Space Suit—Will Travel

  The Time Machine

  Journey To The Center Of The Earth

  Tarzan Of The Apes

  From The Earth To The Moon

  “I was just a kid then,” Chubby admitted. “That’s a list of the books that I tried to read while I spent time here. It was fun until the teenagers started raiding the place, using it for a drug den. I was about eighteen or so last time I visited here. Brings back some neat memories.”

  “Kind of like your own little hideaway,” said Avy. “I can identify. There were times when I wanted to slip under my bed and fall through the magic hole that led to Candy Land. Not too much different. But your place was real enough.”

  “I have to admit, it’s got atmosphere.” Sebastian’s voice rang hollow in the expanse. “All except for this bat shit. It wouldn’t be a bad place to stash our asses if things got crazy.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” Chubby grinned in the refracted light. “I always carry a bunch of camping gear in my trunk just in case I get the urge to spend the night out.”

  Sebastian scribbled some notes in a small notebook. “Think I’ll record the directions to this place,” he said. He drew the small picture of a water tower in the margin, then closed the book. “I hope you guys are ready to leave, ’cause it’s getting just a wee nippy out.”

  They descended the ladder carefully and climbed in the car. On the way back to the motel, Avy glanced out the window, thinking about Chubby’s place of sanctuary. She could understand his reasons for wanting to kiss the world off, to find a quiet hovel of his own. He was the type that withdrew within himself until he was almost inside out—hiding away from those who disapproved of him. Avy felt the same type of kinship toward him that her mother had. Chubby hadn’t changed much from his youth. He was unassuming in his adulthood. His compassion for others had never wavered. Even in the position of prison guard, subjected to violence every day, the man had managed to keep his sense of decency. Raymond Hammersmith, though he had been scorned most of his life, had risen above it to abide by the most reverent of human traits—love, generosity, forgiveness.

  Arriving at the motel, they unpacked their gear then settled in. Avy passed around refreshments. They turned on the wall-mounted TV to watch the news. They had no idea what they expected to hear, but nothing earth shattering or even topical came through the newscast. Chubby decided to retire to his room. Avy and Sebastian stretched out on the bed, holding each other until they started to fondle. They made love, but it was rushed, almost reckless. It had little to do with passion or the intense feelings they had for each other. They were on guard, cognizant of the same feeling coursing through them—an unmistakable sense that something was not right. They donned their clothes then sat against the headboard.

  “Do you feel it?” Sebastian wondered.

  “Yeah.” She yawned. “They’re thinking about us—plotting, hatching plans. I feel it in the pit of my stomach.”

  They drifted off after awhile. She hadn’t been asleep long before awakening to an annoying scratching sound above her head. She sensed it was still deep in the morning hours. The irritating nails on the chalkboard noise reached her ears again. She cringed, then spoke with a voice thick with sleep. “Gaaah, please get off the headboard, Sebastian.”

  “Glug-guh.”

  She shoved him. He flipped the covers over his head, then kicked his feet tantrum-like. She heard the noise repeat. How could the bed be squeaking when they weren’t moving? A tap-squeak-tap interrupted her peace again. She sat up in bed, massaging her temples. Gretchen started yapping from the adjoining room. The hoarse barks escalated into a pitiful whine.

  “Shaddap,” mumbled Sebastian.

  Avy whipped the covers off and threw her legs over the bed. A pall of gray light filled the room. When she heard the noise again, she jerked her head around to stare at the back wall window. She could see the silhouette of a creature standing up on hind legs. It was on the outside window ledge. Its paws made little digging motions, scratching the pane. It was the largest rat she had ever seen.

  Avy jumped to the foot of the bed. She slapped Sebastian’s feet. “For gawd’s sakes, get up,” she screamed. “There’s a monster at the window!”

  Gretchen pawed at the door, ramming her head against it.

  Sebastian pitched the covers back. “Whass up? Dang it, Avy, why’d you hit me?”

  She stabbed a finger at the window. “Look at that.”

  Sebastian got up, leaned toward the window. He rubbed his eyes, looked again at the thing outside. “Shit, Avy, it’s just an opossum. He’s just looking for something to eat. Can’t we get some sleep?”

  “No. Chase it away. It’s disgusting.”

  Chubby’s voice came from the other room. “Knock it off, Gretchen! Are you okay in there? I repeat, are you—”

  “We’re fine,” said Sebastian. “We’ve got an opossum at the window.”

  “Want me to get him?”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Sebastian knelt on the bed. He yanked the window open on its slider. “Shoo!” he told the menace. “Go away—git!”

  The opossum reared back with a hiss, snapping little needle-sharp teeth.

  “You lil bastard.” Sebastian gave the creature a swat on its nose with a rolled-up newspaper. He swung at it again. The opossum tore a ragged corner from the end of the paper roll with a lunging snap. Sebastian swung down hard, smacking it in the face. It tumbled off the ledge, then skittered across the parking lot, disappearing into the foliage. He slammed the window shut. �
��There. You happy?”

  She fisted her hips. “Don’t start in with me. That was not my fault. Now it stinks in here.”

  Sebastian flopped back down on the bed. “You should know that wildlife comes with the territory. They charge extra for it on the rent receipt.”

  “Don’t try to be funny. I didn’t expect polecats to come busting into the room.”

  “Polecats are skunks. That was an opossum. They’re always harmless. It’s gone now.”

  “Want me to make sure he’s off the property?” Chubby asked through the door.

  “Please go to sleep, Chubs,” said Sebastian. “It won’t be back.”

  Avy managed to lie down, but sleep didn’t come right away. She expected the creature to return to terrorize them again. After a half hour, she surrendered to exhaustion, falling into a deep slumber.

  Her dreams filled with images of scurrying rats with bulbous eyes and yellow teeth. They hissed at her, jumping for her face, getting tangled in her hair. Every time she slapped one away, another one would appear to take its place. They stank enough to make her dry heave. They all seemed drawn to her, with the intent to torture. She tried to fend them off with slaps but they bit her fingers, stripping the flesh off the bones, leaving her hands in bloodied tatters. “I’ll never have a manicure again!” she cried out in her dream.

  She rolled off the bed and landed on the floor with a thump. Shaking her head, she reached up, feeling someone clasp her wrist.

  “Avy, get up.” Sebastian pulled her to her feet, steadied her. “Sweetheart, you fell off the bed.”

  She looked around. The morning sun streamed through the window. Motel room, she thought. Nightmare, she concluded. “Whoa. I just had a nasty dream,” she said. “I was surrounded by rats. They were eating me.” She slumped in his embrace, finding it hard to stop the quaking in her limbs.

  “I’m sorry I was short with you last night,” he said into her ear. “We’re under a lot of stress. It isn’t easy to cope with. We have to stay busy. Maybe formulate a plan or something. Meanwhile, I’m going to find some type of income for us. My insurance claim is not expected to pay off any time soon.”