The Impossible Coin (The Downwinders Book 2)

by Michael Richan

  The Impossible Coin

  By Michael Richan

  By the author:

  The Downwinders series:

  Blood Oath, Blood River

  The Impossible Coin

  The Graves of Plague Canyon

  The River series:

  The Bank of the River

  Residual

  A Haunting in Oregon

  Ghosts of Our Fathers

  Eximere

  The Suicide Forest

  Devil’s Throat

  The Diablo Horror

  The Haunting at Grays Harbor

  It Walks At Night

  The Dark River series:

  A

  All three series are part of The River Universe, and there is crossover of some characters and plots. For a suggested reading order, see the Author’s Website.

  Copyright 2014 by Michael Richan

  All Rights Reserved.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious.

  Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  www.michaelrichan.com

  ASIN: B00OYR0EZG

  A paperback version of this book is available at most major online retailers.

  Published by Dantull (148715127)

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter One

  “I’ll go first,” Awan said. “You two stay to the side. They know me, but if they see you, they’ll be suspicious. Once I walk through the door, you can come out of hiding and follow me in.”

  “Do you think they’re armed?” Deem asked.

  “Hard to say,” Awan replied. “They’re both a couple of bozos, really.”

  “Great,” Winn said. “Stupid people with guns.”

  “Just be forceful, don’t take any backtalk,” Awan said. “They’ve never heard of blood souring anyway, so they won’t know what I’m doing. Keep them confused until I’m done.”

  Winn was itching to get on with it. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  “Deem?” Awan asked. “You ready?”

  Deem looked a little nervous. “I’ve only used a shotgun before,” she said, looking down at the pistol Awan loaned her.

  “Remember, we’re not here to shoot anyone,” Awan said. “If I wanted to kill these guys, I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble to get the ghost matter. Your job is just to scare them and get them onto the floor; I’ll handle the rest.”

  “Right,” she said, gulping.

  They got out of Awan’s truck, parked a few hundred feet from the trailer on the outskirts of town. As they walked toward it, they passed piles of rusted metal and discarded objects, items the brothers had disposed of without bothering to cart off to the county landfill. The closer they got to the trailer, the more junk rose out of the desert sand.

  Deem and Winn positioned themselves on either side of the door, and Awan paused for a moment, looking at both of them before he knocked, making sure they were ready.

  Winn held the gun up against his chest. As he released the safety, he recalled scouting for ghost matter with Awan several weeks back, harvesting it from a mine outside of Fallon. The brothers inside the trailer had been using Callers to extort money from local townsfolk, threatening them with ghostly visitations if they didn’t pay up. The brothers had become way too greedy and frightened so many people that some had approached Awan to see if he could do anything to help. Awan, Winn, and Deem all had the gift, an ability to enter a place called “the River” and see all of the things others could not: a constant flow of hidden images, including ghosts.

  This should go fine, Winn thought, as long as they don’t have a Caller in there with them right now. Winn hated Callers – always had. Callers were ghosts that became ambitious and struck deals with local cave spirits. Callers were more powerful than normal ghosts, thanks to abilities bestowed upon them by the cave spirit in exchange for what the cave spirits desired most – blood. Callers were always looking for blood to provide to the cave spirits, to keep up their end of the deal. Cave spirits preferred human blood but would take whatever blood the Caller supplied.

  The brothers inside the trailer struck a deal with a Caller to scare people in town who didn’t pay their extortion money. In exchange, the brothers kept the Caller supplied with fresh kill they could use to feed their cave spirit. Awan discovered that the brothers were usually supplying the Caller with coyotes they’d hunt in the land south of their trailer, but lately a lot of dogs had disappeared from town.

  Awan agreed to help the people in town who were paying money to the brothers, and Winn and Deem had agreed to help Awan. Awan found a blood souring technique in his grandfather’s journals, and he spent the past few weeks preparing the materials. Once they applied the blood souring to the brothers, the blood of anything they touched would become slightly tainted, just enough to cause the cave spirit to reject it. The Caller would be forced to locate blood somewhere else, and would stop helping the brothers. Problem solved.

  Awan knocked on the door. “Ernie?” he shouted. “Delmar? Open up. I need to talk to you.”

  Winn pressed himself against the side of the trailer next to the door and felt it move under his back as someone inside began walking. He looked at Deem, who was similarly pressed against the other side of the door. She looked amped up. This isn’t her thing, he thought. Holding people at gunpoint. More my thing.

  “Is that you, Awan?” they heard from inside as the door cracked open. It slowly swung wider, and Winn could see and smell a large cloud emerge from the trailer. He immediately recognized the odor – pot. “Whatchu want?”

  “I want to talk to you,” Awan said, marching up the steps toward the door.

  “Ain’t got nothin’ to talk to you about,” came the voice from inside, but Awan was still moving, determined to enter. As he passed the doorframe, Winn slid in behind him, jumping to the third step. Deem was right behind him.

  Awan walked into the trailer and quickly stepped aside to allow Winn and Deem to enter. It was dark inside, but Winn could see the brother in front of him, dressed in overalls. He raised the gun to him.

  “What is this, Awan?” the man asked.

  “Just get down on the ground, Ernie,” Awan replied. “Where’s Delmar?”

  The man in the overalls began to descend to the floor. “Ain’t gonna tell ya,” he said.

  “Deeper in the trailer,” Awan said to Winn and Deem. As Ernie reached the floor, Awan placed a knee in his back, pinning him down. He reached under Ernie’s chest, releasing one of the straps on his overalls, and pulled the material down, exposing the skin on Ernie’s back.

  “Now, hold on there, Awan,” Ernie said, laughing. He was as high as a kite. “I ain’t into that shit, you know!”

  Awan ignored him and pulled a small metal cylinder from his jacket pocket. It looked like a miniature tin can. He placed it over one of Ernie’s kidneys and pressed it into the man’s white flesh.

  Winn heard rustling from deeper in the trailer. “Stay on him,” he said to Deem, motioning to Ernie. “I’ll find the other one.”

  He walked down the trailer’s hallway. There were three doors ahead of him – two of th
em open, the middle one closed. The rustling was from behind the closed door.

  “Come on out,” Winn said. “Nice and slow.”

  “I ain’t done,” came the voice from inside.

  Great, Winn thought. He’s on the can. And I was worried about this?

  Winn waited until the door opened. A short but rotund man emerged, dressed only in a pair of boxer shorts.

  Winn pointed the gun at him. “Over there,” Winn said, waving the gun in the direction of the living room. The man padded down the hallway, seeing his brother on the ground under Awan.

  “Whatcha doin’ to Ernie?” he asked.

  Deem turned when she heard the other brother and pointed her gun at him. “Down on the ground,” she said to him.

  “I don’t think you know who you’re messin’ with, Awan,” Delmar said as he dropped to his knees. “You rob us, you’ll never get a decent night’s sleep ever again. You’ll have night terrors for the rest of your life.”

  “Stow it,” Awan said, removing the object from Ernie’s back. It left a faint red mark on the man’s skin. “On your stomach, Delmar.”

  “This here’s the worst decision you’ve ever made, Awan,” Delmar said as he lowered himself to the floor of the trailer, his face next to a discarded copy of Rolling Stone magazine, Bob Dylan’s face next to Delmar’s. “We’re gonna see to it that your family spends the rest of their days terrified. How do you like that?”

  “You were always so full of shit, Delmar,” Awan said as he pressed a knee into the man’s back and positioned the object. “You aren’t going to do anything. You and Ernie have been stealing money from people, and yet you still live in this shithole? I’m guessing you smoked it all away.” Awan pressed the object into Delmar’s back and held it in place as its ingredients passed through the man’s skin and into his kidney.

  “With your sister,” Delmar said.

  Awan leaned into his knee, pressing harder on Delmar’s back. “You’re a pig, you know that?”

  “So is she,” Delmar said. “She loves to take it…”

  Awan cut him off by grabbing Delmar’s hair with his free hand and pulling his head back.

  “Slit his throat, will you?” Awan said to Winn. “Let’s slice him open and let him bleed out right here in his pig sty.”

  “Gladly,” Winn said, kneeling next to the man’s exposed neck.

  “Hold on, fellas,” Delmar said. “I ain’t told you the best part yet.”

  “And what is that?” Winn asked.

  “She squealed when I rutted her, right here on the floor!”

  Winn pulled back and swung at Delmar, knocking his head free of Awan’s grip. His head fell to the floor, knocked out.

  “Thank you,” Awan said to Winn.

  “You better not ‘a killed him,” Ernie said, looking up from the floor at the other end of the room. “I’ll tell the sheriff you did it.”

  “You go right ahead and call the sheriff, Ernie,” Awan said, holding the object in place on Delmar’s back as it finished its work. “I’m sure he’d love to come around and have a chat. Maybe I’ll call him myself as soon as we leave here. Tell him about the strange odors in this trailer. Tell him to come visit you, and to bring the drug dogs.”

  “Now, Awan,” Ernie said, pretending to smile. “Ain’t gotta do that. I’m sure Delmar’s fine.”

  Awan pulled the object from the man’s back, noticing the red mark it left behind.

  “What’s that you put on him?” Ernie asked.

  “Just a little payback, Ernie,” Awan said. “For how kind you and Delmar have been to everyone in town.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ernie said, starting to push himself up from the floor.

  Awan walked to the trailer door, and Winn and Deem followed. “You and Delmar are out of business, Ernie,” Awan said. “And if you try anything else stupid, I got a lot more whoopass I can bring around on you.”

  “Whatever you say, Awan,” Ernie said snickering, reaching behind his back to locate the strap of his overalls.

  Deem and Winn walked out the door, and Awan followed, slamming the door shut behind him.

  “He thinks your whoopass was knocking Delmar out,” Winn said to Awan as they walked back to his truck.

  “Would love to see the looks on their faces when the Caller tells them the blood is rejected,” Awan said.

  “I’ll bet they still don’t figure it out, even then,” Deem said.

  “You’re probably right,” Awan replied. “Those two are dumber than a box of hair.”

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  “That was too easy,” Winn said as they sped back to Vegas in his Jeep. Several dust devils were spinning in the distance. Winn could hear Deem slurping at the bottom of her Big Gulp, and he knew she’d want another one soon. There would be nowhere to stop for miles. She’d have to wait.

  “I think they must have just exhaled from a bong hit as we walked in the door,” Deem said. “I can smell it on my clothes. My mom’s gonna notice if I walk in the house like this.”

  “Poor dumb bastards,” Winn said. “Awan told me he planned to mail them a letter in a couple of days, explaining that they’d need a doctor soon if they wanted to stay alive. Who knows if they even know how to read.”

  “They’re in trouble,” Deem replied. “Dialysis isn’t cheap.”

  “They should be able to afford it with all of the money they stole from people.”

  “If there’s any left,” Deem said, and paused, looking out the window. “Doesn’t it bother you to do something like that? I mean, actions have consequences. They’re permanently damaged for the rest of their lives.”

  “Those two assholes?” Winn asked. “Nah, doesn’t bother me at all. They had it coming.”

  “We’re taking Awan’s word for it,” Deem said. “What if he’s wrong? What if he exaggerated their role? What if they’re not as bad as he made them out to be? What then?”

  “Do you think Awan would do that?” Winn asked. “After all he did for us with the skinrunners?”

  Winn looked at Deem. She seemed deep in thought, as though she was mulling over a moral dilemma that was really bothering her. Winn knew that moral dilemmas were the soup du jour for Deem lately, having survived a close call with excommunication from the LDS church. Deem was really a jack Mormon, completely inactive in the church, even though her father had been a prominent Stake President before he died.

  “No, I don’t think Awan would lie to us,” she replied. “But sometimes there are unintended consequences, even when you think you’re doing the right thing.”

  Isn’t that the truth, Winn thought. He’d had one or two scrapes with unintended consequences over the years, and knew they could derail the best laid plans.

  “And besides that,” Deem continued, “we form our opinions of people based on our interactions with them in the present, and take their word about their past. We’ve known Awan for a few weeks, but who knows his real story. Who knows anyone’s real story?”

  “That’s pretty philosophical,” Winn said, “and bordering on cynical. I understand you’ve had your faith in people shaken lately. But you don’t want to become a cynic.”

  “Why not?” Deem said, sitting up a little defensively. “You and I have known each other for, what, two years? Three? Before that, you might have been a felon or an escaped convict for all I know.”

  “I’m not,” Winn said.

  “It’s not like I checked,” Deem said. “I just take your word for it. And you’re not exactly forthcoming about your past. There are times when I feel I hardly know you. And we just helped someone we’ve known for barely a month damage two people’s kidneys for life!”

  “I trust Awan,” Winn said, remembering the talk the two of them had in the motel room in Fallon, after they collected an ingredient for the blood souring from a nearby cave. Awan opened up about some of his life during that conversation, and Deem hadn’t heard any of it. Winn wasn’t about to share it with her, ei
ther. It was personal stuff, things Awan felt comfortable telling Winn after he learned that Winn was bisexual. It helped build a bond of trust between the two. If Awan wanted Deem to know those things, he’d have to tell her himself. Winn wasn’t going to betray a trust. “Your problem is you second guess yourself too much.”

  “I’m not saying I don’t trust him,” Deem said. “I guess I do. He seems like a straight-up guy. But… ” She paused. “There’s no part of you that wonders if what we just did was right?”

  “Nope,” Winn said. “Fuckers had it coming.”

  Deem rolled her eyes and cracked the window. The cabin quickly filled with hot air and Winn saw Deem’s hair fly around her head. “I want to try and get this pot smell off my clothes before we get home,” she said.

  After a quick stop in North Vegas to let Deem refill her soda, they shot straight for Moapa. Winn parked his Jeep next to Deem’s pickup truck in the driveway to his trailer. Even though it was dusk, hot dry air assaulted them when they opened the doors to the Jeep, and Deem hurried to get into her truck and crank the A/C. Winn waved goodbye as she drove off to her home in Mesquite, a half hour away.

  He pulled his shirt up and over his head and walked into his trailer. He turned on the cooler and retrieved a beer from the fridge. Then he walked back outside to sit at his outdoor table – a large, overturned cable spindle. He put his boots up on it, and rocked back a little in the camping chair, slipping the cold beer bottle into the chair’s beverage holder. He lit a cigarette and exhaled a long stream of smoke straight up into the air. Bats were dancing overhead, sucking up the day’s insects. A couple of early stars were out, and more seemed to appear the longer he looked.

  He glanced at his trailer – the one he bought just after he sold his mother’s. When she died, the only thing of value she left was her trailer. He knew he couldn’t keep living in it; it reminded him too much of her. So he sold it and bought another. It was planted in the exact spot where her trailer had stood, after they moved to Moapa from Tucson.