by Greg Barth
***
...Something strange was in front of me. It moved with me, swaying back and forth in the gray morning light. It looked like straw swaying in the breeze.
It was my hair hanging in front of my drooped head.
I heard choked gasping sounds as I crawled. Wheezing.
I realized it was me making those sounds...
***
...Fuck it. I will not crawl. I wanted only to sleep. To die. To stop hurting.
I wanted to drink.
Barking. I heard barking...
“Leave me alone,” I mumbled...
***
...I was crawling. My god why was I crawling? I didn’t want to crawl. I just wanted to die. I wanted to turn to skeleton, a dried carcass lining the trail. I couldn’t raise my head. My shirt collar was wide and loose. I could see down my shirt. Blood covered my chest. So much blood. Where had the blood come from?
My hand hit water. A deep puddle was in front of me. I pushed my face into it and drank. The water was greenish and tasted of mud and algae.
Amoebas will make you deathly sick, I thought to myself as I drank. Deathly. Death. Dead. I drank as much as I could...
***
...My body was limp. I was floating above the trail, hovering like a spirit, looking down at all that passed under me. I felt no more pain.
I felt my mother’s arms holding me.
“Mom,” I said. Warm tears drained down my cheeks.
“Shhhh,” she said.
I felt peace..
EIGHT
RAGUS
Ragus walked along Main Street in Johnson City. There was a chill in the morning air.
His face hurt like hell. He hadn’t swallowed the buckshot pellet after all. It had pierced his cheek and knocked a molar loose, but the pellet hadn’t entered his oral cavity. Instead, it had traveled along his gumline, bounced off his jawbone, and exited by ripping a hole through the cartilage of his ear.
Fucking bitch.
Bandages wrapped his face.
Faranacci had an old doctor on retainer. He wasn’t exactly a surgeon, and certainly not the kind of qualified plastic surgeon that you would want working on your face, but Ragus didn’t feel the need to explain a gunshot wound to the cops. Sometimes you just had to make do. And it wasn’t like this was his first facial scar.
He walked up to a pawnshop entrance on the corner. Electric and acoustic guitars hung in the front window. He opened the door, and a bell tinkled above his head.
“Hi there,” the lady at the counter said. Ragus knew Valerie well. She had long, black hair, wore a light blue tank top, her large breasts stretching the front of the shirt. She had a piercing in her lower lip.
Ragus looked at her and shook his head.
“Ah, shit, man. Sorry. I can see you can’t talk.” She tilted her head back and to the left. “You can go on back.” She turned and said with a raised voice, “Maloosh. Ragus here to see you.”
Ragus went around the counter and through the door to the back office. He turned his head back to take in her ass from behind. She caught him looking and shook her butt at him. He liked the way her large breasts looked from the side.
Pete Malucci sat behind a small desk inside the office. The desk was neat and organized, paperwork even in a stack, edges parallel to the side of the desk. His laptop looked as though it had never been touched. The small office had a balanced, symmetrical feel.
A half-empty bottle of hand sanitizer sat on the desk.
Malucci stood. He wore a crisp white business shirt and charcoal gray pants with tight pleats in the front. Malucci’s face was too young for his white hair, which he kept slicked back. He was not a tall man, but he was fit and strong.
He put his fist out. A small gold ring on his ring finger. Malucci didn’t like to shake hands.
Ragus bumped his fist.
“She got you good, huh?” Malucci said.
Ragus nodded.
“Good to be rid of her. She cost us all a lot. Anybody that can do this to you, well, they can’t be fucked around with too much.”
Malucci gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Sit,” he said.
Ragus sat.
Ragus was a man of few words. The pain in his jaw intensified his brevity of speech. “Didn’t get to do a cleanup,” he said.
“Where’d this go down?”
Ragus pulled out his tablet. He tapped the screen and turned it so that Malucci could see the display. He pointed to the final location of Henry’s truck on the map.
Malucci studied the map. “I see,” he said. “We may be in luck. Faranacci’s got some meth producers up there. You see anything like that?”
Ragus shook his head.
“Yeah. Frankie White runs a crew up there. You know Frankie? No? You’ll meet him soon. His guys are real close to this spot, I think. They use these old fire access roads to get in and out. I’ll reach out to Frankie and get him to scrub this good. You leave any evidence we should worry about?”
Ragus thought. He nodded. “I spit on the girl’s face. There was blood.”
Malucci smiled and nodded. “She pissed you off, huh? Don’t sweat it. The animals up there have been at her by now. She doesn’t have a face anymore. We’ll get it cleaned up. I doubt anybody has run across the body yet. If they have, Frankie will know. Don’t sweat it.”
“Two bodies,” Ragus said. “She had an old man with her.”
“Speaking of old men, you been to see the boss yet?”
“No.”
“I don’t blame you. He’s off the chain these days.”
“Fuck him.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re a freelancer. I practically belong to this guy, man. You don’t have to put up with his shit the way the rest of us do.”
“Fuck him.”
“Now that’s just being insubordinate.”
“I don’t work for him. I work for you.”
“Some days, man. Some days, I don’t know. I just wish...”
“What are you saying?” Ragus said.
“Nothing,” Malucci said. “Just thinking out loud, that’s all. It’s just...the fucker is so...crazy, you know?”
“You serious? You’re telling me how crazy Faranacci is? Like I don’t already know?”
“Yeah. You get it. I know.”
“So write a letter to the board,” Ragus said. “Tell ’em we need another CEO in this outfit.”
Malucci laughed. “Fuck, where’s my manners?” He walked over to a wet bar in the corner and got a bottle and two glasses. He poured them each a drink. They clinked their glasses.
“Nice work getting rid of this psycho girl. Tell me something though. Is she a hot piece of ass like she looks like in the diner video where she goes in guns blazing in her bra? Is she really that hot?”
Ragus smiled, then winced with pain. “She was pretty damned hot. I ruined that for her, though.”
Malucci sighed. “Shame.”
“She wouldn’t have been interested in me anyway, considering the circumstances.”
“Still, hard to waste a hottie.”
Ragus took out his phone and brought up the picture of Selena. He handed it over to Malucci.
“Ouch. You did fuck her up.”
Ragus finished his drink and stood.
Malucci took an envelope out of the desk and handed it over to Ragus.
“Thanks, Pete.”
“Hey, that shit I was saying about Faranacci? Forget that, okay?”
“What shit?”
“Exactly.”
They bumped fists again.
“Hey,” Malucci said. “You want a blowjob on your way out? I’ll mind the till while Valerie takes care of that for you. On the house?”
Ragus considered it. “I just might take you up on that.”
“Val,” Malucci shouted.
NINE
SELENA
I opened my eyes and looked up at the ceiling above me. I was lying on a bed. A soft pillow was b
eneath my head. A sheet and blanket covered me. I smelled wood smoke. Daylight streamed through a window on my left. Rough-hewn logs formed the wall around the window.
I pulled up the sheet and looked down at myself. I was naked under the sheet. Someone had wrapped my upper chest in white bandages. I felt my head. Someone had cut my hair short on one side and wrapped my scalp with a bandage.
I had no idea where I was, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t County General. This was rustic even by North Carolina’s standards.
I took in as much of my surroundings as I could without moving. A door on the far end of the room opened to another part of the building. Sparse furniture in the room, just a rough table by the side of the bed. A couple of old-fashioned oil lamps hung on the walls. A fireplace with a stone hearth on the wall adjacent to the foot of the bed.
I tried to speak but was unable to get my voice to work. I cleared my throat and swallowed a couple of times.
“Hello?” I said in a hoarse whisper.
Footsteps approached from the other room.
A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped through the doorway. He had a short brown beard and mustache that covered his face, and the largest biceps I’d ever seen outside of a professional body builder. He wore a black t-shirt, black knit cap, jeans, and boots.
“I see you’re awake,” he said. He had a rich, deep voice.
“Where am I?” I croaked.
“You really shouldn’t talk. Where are you? Well, you’re about as far away from anywhere as you can get.”
“Grindstaff cabin?”
“Yes. This is the old Grindstaff place.”
“What happened?”
He stepped closer. He sat on a stool beside the bed. I hadn’t noticed it before. He took my hand. “Look. I’ll answer that question for you as much as I can, but after that, I’m going to get you something to drink and try to get some warm broth in you. But you have to promise me that you’ll rest and not push yourself to talk more than necessary.”
I looked him in the eye and nodded. His eyes were light brown.
“You’ve been shot multiple times. It looks like you were hit by a .32 caliber pistol. The rounds were not hollow points. That’s a good thing. If you don’t understand, I can explain later. Hollow points would have been bad. You were hit twice in the upper chest and once in your left shoulder. You also had a graze to your shoulder that looks a little older but still fresh. One of the bullets to your chest passed through at an angle and exited through your back. It missed your collar bone and shoulder blade. Also a good thing. Loose bone fragments are bad. You’re, uh, you’re going to have to get that thunderbird tattoo touched up on your back.
“I was able to remove the bullet from your shoulder. The second round in your upper chest, well, it’s still in there. It’s more dangerous to remove it than it is to leave it for now. I have extensive combat medic experience, but I don’t have surgery equipment here, and I don’t have an x-ray machine. My biggest concern with leaving the bullet in there is the possibility of infection. You had on a low-cut blouse. That’s also a good thing. The bullet missed the shirt entirely. Had it gone through the shirt, threads and fibers from the cloth could have been carried into your body. That would be more prone to start infection than the metal bullet. And based on the surgery scars I see on your body, I’d say you already have a fair tolerance for metal in your body, and I’d guess you’ve had a tetanus shot recently. Do you understand everything I’ve told you?”
I nodded. I pointed to my head.
He broke eye contact and frowned. “You had a nasty graze on the right side of your skull. You most certainly suffered a concussion. Outside of that, time will tell if there’s any damage to the brain from the swelling and bruising. The fact that you’re awake and can communicate is a good sign. I’ve been getting you alert enough a few times each day to take some water and broth to keep you hydrated. You’ve been able to take sips. This is the first time you’ve been fully conscious. I hope you know that you’re a very lucky woman.”
“Hospital?” I croaked.
“I didn’t try to move you. It’s complicated here, as you’ll soon see. My truck is out of commission. Suffice it to say that I didn’t have means to transport you or communicate with anyone to come and evacuate you. I felt the best thing was to stabilize you here for the time being. Do you want to go to a hospital?”
I shook my head no.
“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that two bullets to the upper chest and one to the head is bad. You’re extremely lucky that nothing vital was hit. Extremely. That doesn’t mean that things still can’t turn for the worse. Do you want me to go for help or get word to anyone? I would have to walk out, but I could do it.”
I shook my head again.
“Are you in some trouble?”
I nodded.
“The person that did this to you, are they going to come looking for you?”
I didn’t think so. I knew I had hit him with the second shotgun blast. I didn’t think I had killed him, but I didn’t know. The fact that I was still alive told me that he either thought my wounds had been fatal or that I had caused him serious harm. Either way, if he were still after me, he would have gotten me by now. I shook my head no.
“Was it the meth cooks in the forest that did this to you? Are you with them?”
I gave him a confused look. I didn’t know what he was asking me.
“Okay. I’m going to do my best to get you back on your feet. So far there are no signs of infection, and you are healing.”
“How long?” I said.
“Uh, you’ve been here with me four days.”
“How did I get here?”
“It looked like you crawled a long way. Your dog found me, and he wouldn’t leave me alone until I followed him to you. You were almost here. I just had to carry you a little piece.”
“Max.”
“Max? The dog?”
I nodded.
“He’s fine. He’s outside right now, but you’ll see him soon.”
I thought of Henry. I knew he was dead. We’d get to that soon enough.
“Who are you?” I said.
“I’m Todd Grindstaff,” he said. “This is my grandfather’s land. I’ve been up here a few years. Alone up here until four days ago when you showed up. We can get to know each other later. First, I’m going to get you some water and some broth. And then you’re going to rest. Does anything hurt?”
“Everything.”
He frowned and nodded. “I suspect it does.”
“Eagle,” I said.
“Pardon?”
“Tattoo.”
“Oh. I’m pretty sure it’s a thunderbird. Either way, the exit wound didn’t help it any.”
He got up and walked to the door.
“Todd,” I said.
He turned to look back. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
TEN
RAGUS
Ragus sat at the table. He had taken a couple of codeine pills, and the pain in his jaw and neck had subsided.
Even though he wasn’t in pain, he was angry. He hadn’t been able to get the girl on the mountain out of his system. Shooting her had helped some. Valerie’s oral skills certainly hadn’t hurt any. But Ragus still wanted to break something.
He sipped a glass of Old Vine Zinfandel.
The university was still in session, so Picasso’s Pub was more crowded than he liked. He didn’t plan to stay long.
A young man approached his table. “Look at you, dawg,” the man said.
Ragus looked up at him.
“You all bandaged up like a war hero or something.”
Ragus didn’t answer.
The man gestured at the seat across the table from Ragus.
“You mind?”
Ragus gestured for him to sit.
The man had a shaved head, wore a green silk button-up shirt, and had two gold chains around his neck.
“Somebody sure got ahold of your face
. I hope you taught him a lesson.”
“She won’t be doing it again,” Ragus said.
“Damn, dawg. A bitch? You mean to tell me a bitch did this to you?”
Ragus sipped his wine and didn’t respond.
“I tell you what, some shorty put her hand to me like that, I’d spank her ass like I was her first grade teacher, you know that’s right. Then I’d put it in her motherfucking ass. Put it in until she feel like she got something caught in her throat.”
“What do you want?” Ragus said.
“I saw you sitting over here all alone, and it looks to me like you need to get laid tonight, brother.”
“You volunteering?”
“Nah yo, it ain’t like that. Pussy, my brother. Pussy is what I’m talking about. And pussy is what you need. You just need to get your dick wet. Wipe that frown off your face.”
“I see.”
“See them two shorties over by the bar?” He pointed at two women. One was dressed in a tight blue evening dress. She had shoulder-length brown hair and looked to be about forty years old. The other was in a red evening dress and looked to be in her mid-twenties. She was a brunette also and was shorter than her colleague. “Them’s mine.”
“What’s your name?”
“You can call me Jerome. What’s yours?”
“Jerome, how well do you treat these ladies?”
“What do you mean, yo? I treat them ho’s like they need to be treated. You know what that’s about.”
“So if I pay you for them, how much do they get?”
Jerome laughed. “Shit, man. They get what I give them. That’s what they get. You give a bitch too much and then she goes and gets all independent on your ass. Then you got to be heavy handed with them and straighten that shit out. It’s better that they don’t get the chance to bring that kind of treatment down on themselves.”
Ragus took a long drink of wine. He loved the zinfandels from California. “Tell you what, I’ll take those women off your hands.”
“What the fuck you mean, dawg? Take them women off my hands?”
“They work for me now.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Get the fuck out of here, yo. These bitches don’t even know you. Get the fuck out.”
