by Greg Barth
T HIRTY-ONE
Selena
IT HAPPENED ON the third night.
The sky was clear that night and filled with stars by the thousands, but the moon wasn’t out.
As we crept down to the mobile home, I sensed something was different. There were new sounds. Faint sounds—voices, music, movement. Dad was a quiet, still man. This was different. The lighting had changed as well. Even from a distance, I could detect a higher level of brightness and a shifting of the shadows that hadn’t been there the two previous nights. And there was a sick feeling in the air. I’d felt it before on nights like this, in this very spot, many long years ago.
It was like I was back there, as if no time had passed. My body felt what it felt back then. My mind took on the old trappings of a girl—a girl confronting situations that her father should have protected her from.
This was the party that put Gabby in jail.
This was the thing that made me the fucked up person that I was.
I tried to shake off this feeling. Tonight will be the last time.
We moved like shadows in the night along the tree-lined gravel road as we crept closer to my father’s house.
Ragus touched my shoulder to get my attention. I turned and saw headlights approaching up the long road.
We both ducked down under the limbs of an evergreen tree as the car approached. It turned down the lane to the trailer before it got within a hundred yards of us. Its headlights shone across the front lawn, and I spotted at least two more cars parked in front that hadn’t been there previously.
“This is it,” I told Ragus. “It’s happening here right now.”
“Definitely something going on,” he said.
“We’re going to stop this party.”
“I’ll follow your lead as long as it makes sense. And it stopped making sense about four days ago.”
We didn’t speak again as we crept closer. We knelt along the trees lining the hillside above Dad’s home. From this vantage point we could look down on the front side of the mobile home and the cars parked outside. The thin curtains were drawn closed, but I could see that lights were on in the kitchen, living room, and bathroom. Shadowy forms moved around inside. The front door was open, and I saw through the screen door. The television wasn’t turned on, but I heard country music playing from somewhere inside.
I didn’t recognize any of the vehicles parked in front except my father’s. Of course, I hadn’t been back in fifteen years except my brief visit the previous year.
We crouched down and hid among the low tree branches where we could get a good view of the house while remaining safe from view.
The car parked and the headlights were turned off, casting the yard in darkness. The car door opened. By the dome light, I saw a man step out of the driver’s side. He opened one of the back doors and two girls got out from the rear of the car. They both looked to be early teens. Barely nubile.
I didn’t recognize the man or the girls.
He closed the door and their shadowy figures walked through the yard and up the concrete block steps to the trailer entrance. The door opened for them and I recognized my uncle standing inside of the living room. He had aged a good bit over the last fifteen years, but there was no mistaking him.
“Okay, what now?” Ragus said.
“We wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“We just fucking wait, okay?”
He stared at me for a long, uncomfortable moment. “Do you even know what you came here to do? Do you even have a plan?”
It was obvious what was going on in the trailer, but I told myself that my hesitation stemmed from a need to make certain. Also, I wanted Magnus to be there. I wanted to end it all at once.
We sat there under the trees watching the trailer into the night. After a couple of hours, Ragus was getting antsy. He fidgeted and complained. He was ready for something to happen. We’d been doing a lot of coke for weeks, and that’s just not conducive for a situation that requires patience and being still.
The door opened to the trailer. One of the girls came down the steps. Her hair was pulled back in two blonde pigtails. She wore only a pair of panties and ankle socks. I watched as she staggered around the yard. She looked disoriented. She leaned forward, put her hands on her knees and vomited on the grass at her feet.
I felt like I was watching myself.
The door opened again and Uncle Judd came out. He stumbled down the steps. His hair was slicked back like he’d done it up special. He had on a bowling shirt that was unbuttoned down the front.
He walked up to the girl retching in the grass and grabbed her by one of her pigtails. Jerked her head back violently. She stumbled around, trying to keep her feet under her. Uncle Judd slapped her hard across the face, then grabbed her by one shoulder and spun her around until she faced the door. He shoved her hard in the direction of the house. She lurched to one side, righted herself, overcorrected, finally got her direction and momentum lined up with the house. She ran up the steps and back inside.
Uncle Judd stood alone in the yard. He turned his head and looked up at the stars. He’d grown fat over the years and his hair had thinned. He was clearly drunk, staggering around the yard and stepping in the puddle of puke. He swore and scraped his foot on the grass, wiping the vomit off. He looked like a fucking idiot. I felt ashamed that this dumbass had once had so much power over me. He—more than any man alive—had fucked up my life. My father had allowed it to happen, but Judd was the first one to act. If dad had taken me to the line, Judd had pushed me over it.
Uncle Judd stood with his back to me. I could tell from his movements that he was unzipping his pants. I saw steam rise from the ground as he pissed next to the trailer.
It disgusted me that such a sickening, weak man had hurt me so much. I’d been young, vulnerable, and powerless.
Life had made me strong. I was no longer powerless. He, on the other hand, was just disgusting and pathetic.
I hated myself for ever having been so weak.
I moved before I knew what I was doing. I crawled out from under the tree branches and stood. Ragus moved behind me. I nocked an arrow and raised the bow. I drew, aimed, and released.
I watched him jerk as the arrow hit. I was shooting downhill in the dark with a new weapon and I was high on coke. I hadn’t fired this bow much, so my accuracy was off. I had aimed for his ass, but the arrow flew higher. Caught him just above his pelvic bone and off the center of his spine. It fully penetrated him. Only a few inches of the arrow stuck out from his back.
He reached a hand around to the back of his hip and twisted his side to me. Urine still streamed from his penis in a weak arc. The arrow jutted out of the front of him through his waist at a downward angle and looked like a second penis only longer, thinner, and higher up. And this one dripped blood, not urine.
His voice trembled when he spoke. “Ooohhhh my god! My god! Oooohhhh!”
He turned to look up the bank to where I stood.
I readied another arrow.
I saw from the corner of my eye that my father stood at the door. He was pulling his pants up.
Ragus stood by my side, his rifle at his shoulder. “What do you want, sweetie?”
I hesitated. “Um, just wing him.” I let my second arrow fly. Caught my uncle in the side of the head. An image passed through my mind of Steve Martin doing a comedy skit with a fake arrow prop affixed to his head. That’s what I did to my uncle, but I don’t think it got as many laughs.
Ragus fired the rifle. I saw my father’s head jerk back as the .44 magnum entered his forehead and blew out the back of his skull. He fell slack to the ground in front of the steps. Blood and brain matter splattered on the wall behind him.
I watched. I listened. I tried to feel something. Anything.
I came up with nothing.
I turned and faced Ragus. He looked down at me. “Winged him,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said.
So that’s
how it went. There was no confrontation. No words were exchanged. There was no closure. A fish-in-a-barrel assassination if ever there was one.
Fuck them.
T HIRTY-TWO
Selena
THE .44 MAGNUM makes a shitload of noise, especially in the dead of night. The sound of the shot echoed back at us from the hillsides. It would have woken up the neighbors had there been any.
“I figure there’s at least three more assholes inside,” Ragus said.
“I need to know who they are. And we have to be careful with the girls.”
We moved out of the trees and started down the bank to the trailer. The door stood open, and a man leaned his head out. He appeared confused. He held a pistol in his shaking hand. I didn’t recognize him—just some redneck.
I raised my bow.
“Hang on,” Ragus said. He stepped in front of me as we crossed the yard. His rifle was raised and pointed at the man. “Fucking freeze.”
The man turned to look at Ragus. He squinted into the night. “The fuck’s going on?” he said. “Did you shoot Tom? Is that Tom down there?” Others stirred in the house behind him.
Ragus stepped up and took the pistol from him. He tucked it behind his waistband in back.
“Who’s inside?” Ragus said.
“There’s a few of us. Just come on in. You don’t got to shoot nobody else.” The man tried to step back inside. He tripped drunkenly and fell backward and landed on his ass.
Ragus stepped inside and I followed. The living room was thick with tobacco and marijuana smoke. There were two other men inside—one was passed out on the recliner and the other sat on the sofa. The guy on the sofa was stuffing his junk back into his pants. Two girls sat on the sofa on either side of him. Another girl lay on her side on the floor, her cheek pressed into a puddle of vomit.
None of the men looked like Magnus.
Ragus pointed his rifle at the man on the couch. “You. Get face down on the floor over here beside this guy.” He turned to the man he took the pistol from. He still sat on the floor. “Get down. Face down. Hands behind your head. Lace your fingers.”
Both men complied.
“Check the other rooms, kid,” Ragus said to me.
The other man, the one passed out on the recliner, hadn’t moved.
I did a quick walk through the trailer, turning on lights as I went. All the other rooms were empty. I came back to the living room and I checked the girl on the floor. I pressed my fingers to her wrist. I couldn’t find her pulse. I checked her neck. Her artery fluttered under my fingertips. Her pulse was too high, but I also felt skipped beats amid the fast flutters.
“She’s not well,” I said to Ragus.
Ragus gestured to the men. “Who do you want to shoot next?” he said.
“You don’t got to shoot nobody,” one of the men on the floor said. “We was just having some fun.”
“This girl needs help.”
I went over to the corded phone hanging on the brown paneled wall next to the hallway entrance, picked it up and pressed the receiver to my ear.
“Uh, do not do that, kid,” Ragus said.
No dial tone. I clicked the release button a couple of times. Still no dial tone. Dad could never keep up with a phone bill.
“I need to get her somewhere,” I said.
“No. Me and you need to get the fuck out of here,” he said.
“Okay, we will, but just listen to me. Let me get the girls out of here and safe first. This one had an overdose, I think. I’ll take them down to safety where they can get help. I’ll use dad’s car. Then I’ll come straight back. While I’m gone, I need you to do something.”
“That won’t fucking work,” Ragus said.
“Listen. I need you to ask these guys some questions. I’m looking for another man.”
“You’ll get caught if you take his car.”
“Just. Fucking. Listen. I’m not leaving until I find a man named Magnus. These guys will know where he is. You need to ask them. You can make them tell you.”
“Selena, I heard you. Now you need to listen to me. Us splitting up? It’s a bad fucking idea. A real bad fucking idea. This is like one of those horror movies where the victims say ‘hey, let’s split up.’ You’re going to look back on this from some cold prison cell one day and remember that this very moment is where you fucked up. You hear me?”
“Carry the girl to the car. I’ll hold the rifle on these two while you do. I’ll come back for you.”
“You won’t make it back.”
“I said I’ll come back for you. If I’m not back in an hour, you head over the ridge to your car. I’ll meet you there.”
He sighed. Shook his head. He walked over, picked up the girl, and took her out the door.
“Girls,” I said to the other two. “Come on. Go with him.”
“Where we going?” one of them said.
I had no idea how to answer. “We need to help your friend. When you go outside, there’s… there’s a couple of dead bodies out there. Try not to look if you can.”
That seemed sufficient and they both stood. They dressed quickly and went out the door.
I looked around the room. None of the men had stirred. The guy on the recliner must have indulged in more than he could handle. Either that or he petered out too fast. Fucking amateurs.
Ragus had settled the girls in the back of dad’s car. He came back inside and handed me a set of keys. “Your old man had them in his pocket,” he said.
“Can you get them to talk? I need to find Magnus. Don’t let me down.”
“Oh, they’ll talk.”
“I’ll be back.”
He shook his head. “Goodbye, Selena. I was starting to like you just a little bit.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “I’ll be back. If you don’t see me soon, head toward your car. I’ll meet you there. You can find your way with the flashlight.”
“Okay,” he said.
I stepped through the door and stood on the steps outside the trailer. Ragus leaned his head out and kissed me.
“We’re going to be okay,” I said.
I walked over and got in the car. I leaned my head out the window. “Make those fuckers talk,” I said as I started the engine. I checked the mirror and adjusted the seat. Dad’s old car smelled like shit.
I backed the car up and onto the gravel drive. I turned on the headlights and started down the long, dark hill to the mouth of the holler. I was about a mile down the hill when I realized that I’d left my bow inside the trailer. Didn’t matter. I could get it when I got back.
I kept my eyes peeled as we drove down the narrow mountain road, but I didn’t see anyone. If the local police were watching for me, they were well hidden.
I made it to the mouth of the holler, turned the car onto the four lane highway and pointed toward the only 24 hour business I knew of.
“How’s she doing?” I asked the girls.
“She’s breathing. Sleeping it off,” one said.
“You’re not taking us... home? Are you?” the other said. She sounded fearful.
I didn’t know how to answer. “What do you mean by home? Do you mean home with your parents? Or where you’ve been staying?”
“I don’t want to go to neither,” she said.
“Me too,” the other spoke.
“I’m not taking you home,” I said.
“Don’t call the police either. Please.”
That scared me. How deep did this go? Human trafficking with rednecks was one thing. If the local authorities were involved, anything I did would do no good.
“I won’t call the police,” I said.
“You’re looking for Magnus?” one of the girls said.
“I am. Do you know where he is?”
She thought for a long moment, and I drove in silence. Finally she spoke. “He’s on top of the flat mountain. With the goats. Him and Roman. In a place called Vee-Aye.”
None of what she said made sense. Roman? A flat mou
ntain? Vee-Aye? What the fuck?
I couldn’t take them to the overnight truck stop and call for help like I had planned. This was going to take more time than I’d accounted for.
Ragus would be fine. If anything came up, he could head for the woods and get back to his car.
“Girls, I’m going to take you somewhere safe. Somewhere your friend can get help.”
T HIRTY-THREE
Ragus
RAGUS WENT INTO the kitchen and took a dirty plastic tumbler from the sink. He turned on the tap. The water smelled of sulfur. He filled the cup with it and carried it back into the living room.
He went up to the man passed out on the recliner. The guy was short and fat. His round, hairy belly stuck out between the bottom of his shirt and the waistline of his jeans.
Ragus pinched the man’s nostrils closed and held tight until his mouth opened, then turned up the tumbler and poured water into the man’s open mouth. The man jerked, flailed with his arms, coughed and sputtered. He spewed the water over the front of his shirt. His eyes opened and Ragus poured the rest of the water into his face.
“What the fuck, man,” the guy said.
Ragus took a step back and pointed the muzzle of the .44 carbine in the man’s face. “Easy now,” Ragus said.
The guy raised his hands. “Whoa, man. Whoa now. Don’t shoot.”
Ragus pressed the muzzle of the gun against the guy’s cheek. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Easy. Just tell me what you want, okay? We can work this out.”
“It’s real simple,” Ragus said. “I’m going to ask you one question, and you’re going to answer it. No fucking around. You fuck around, and I’ll ask them.” Ragus tilted his head to the side to indicate the two men face down on the floor.
The guy in front of him swallowed. “Okay.”
“Where can I find Magnus?”
The guy shifted his eyes away for a split second. He returned his gaze quickly. “Uh, who’s Magnus?”
Ragus backed up one step and shot the man through the face, blowing his head back into the recliner.
