by Nick Younker
That was why he’d had to go. There was no honor in him. The pride and care it took to carefully construct his earnings, that’s what made the life worth it. He always watched his ladies die. He took the time to see what they saw when the life drained out of them.
All these assholes that say your soul leaves your body when you die and you ascend to this magical place in the sky. He never saw it. Their lights just went out. Sometimes, they would close their eyes as they were dying and he had to open their lids back up. It wasn’t ceremonious, it was just that he needed their eyes to tell him a story. What they were seeing and what they felt.
Shane doubted that whole God thing. He couldn’t find it within himself to believe in something he could not see. But if the rumors were true, then he would trek his way to hell in the next life. No matter; though: He would be the first to mutinize that shithole.
He actually envied the people he killed. As for him, he was more than likely going to die of some long illness, like cancer or cirrhosis of the liver. He would suffer. But for them, it only took a few minutes. They should be thanking him for saving them from a debilitating death like the ones he might’ve endured.
He thought about a lot of things as he made his way through the north end of the Squaw Creek border of the TC. He would cut through the wilderness patch into Jeffries Plateau.
He’d had his arrangement with them for about two years now, and things went smoothly. But now that he’d been exposed, he couldn’t let those leftover bones incriminate them. They would turn on him. They would either leave quietly or in a body bag. But either way, the Jeffries had to go.
* * *
The morning was in full swing when Siders reached the old farmhouse where he had first tied Ceril Jeffries up. There were a few scattered shacks throughout the area and some makeshift barns. But all in all, they were close enough that he could clear them out one by one in no time.
He made his way through the house quietly and saw that they were all still sleeping. Fifteen total in the house, but he wasn’t sure if he saw Ceril. He checked the other makeshift shacks and found 11 more, and then the barn where he found two teenage boys sleeping naked beside a naked girl. They looked like they were kin to one another, which didn’t surprise Shane at all.
He knifed them in the necks. The boys couldn’t scream and the girl died after he jabbed the knife in her eye; one, two, three times.
He decided they all had to go in a blaze.
(Dead men keep the best secrets)
He trekked through the barn and found a hammer, some nails and a few pieces of plywood. He knew he was going to make some noise putting them up, but they had already boarded up their own windows (paranoid fucking retards), so all he had to do was board up the doors.
He finished with the doors and poured gasoline around the houses. When he lit the fire, he could hear them banging against the door. The line of blazes caught quickly and then he realized he had forgotten something crucial.
The cellar door!
Siders ran around the side of the big house and saw the door about to burst open. He jumped on it and nailed it shut as they screamed.
The blaze plowed through the homes quickly, and about 20 minutes later, the houses started to collapse.
I guess that takes care of the cellar dwellers.
***
9
Pete Brown was already up, drinking his morning decaf and doing a crossword puzzle, when the frantic knocks came at the door. It was not uncommon to get visitors early at his house; Kelly and Lucy came over in the mornings before they opened the ’Bend.
But these knocks came in rapid succession, and they seemed to insinuate an emergency of some sort. He was still in his long underwear and robe from the night before, but that had never bothered him in the past. It also occurred to him that he felt a little guilty for having let those boys sleep out in the van last night, what with the weather turning cold so quickly after that unusual heat wave they’d had the day before. It didn’t weigh on him too much, though, since he’d been wanting Izzy to come home and spend a few days with him. He missed his daughter.
Then he thought to himself, What if they need to use the bathroom?
When he opened the door, he saw Mickey and Jason standing there with their van parked in front of the house. He could see it was still running because the pipes were pumping out exhaust that was mixing with the cool day air. And then a rancid smell rushed in. At first, he thought it was the boys, but then he recognized the smell of the river. Could have been because of the rain yesterday. That usually brings the smell out.
It was a shocking sight, though, because when he’d seen those boys the day before, Mickey had been a tad overweight, while Jason had just about a normal build.
Now, their bodies seemed pale, fragile and a little sick. Mickey looked like he had shed ten or more pounds since the night before, and the guilt Pete had felt earlier that morning resurfaced.
Those boys got sick down there and it’s all my fault. I could have let them in to stay on the couch, or even a cot on the floor. Anything would have been better than sleeping out in this cold, down in the Squaw Creek lowlands.
“Jesus, boys! What happened to you two? Did you both get sick?” Pete asked them as opened the door wider so they could come in.
Mickey wordlessly held a blanket around himself, shivering, and slowly walked in the house. Jason followed much in the same way. Pete noticed when they passed that their eyes looked a little off.
“A fog came through and hit us — hit everyone down there. It rolled in off the channel and there was — there was something wrong with it,” Mickey said after Pete had shut the door behind them.
“What do you mean, something wrong with it?”
“He means that when it rolled through, it hurt us. It made us piss and shit all over ourselves,” Jason said.
Mickey sat down on the edge of the sofa.
“We’re lucky we didn’t eat, or else we would’ve lost our supper last night,” Mickey said. “It made us dry heave like a son-of-a-bitch though.”
Jason sat down beside Mickey and they leaned into other to draw heat. This seemed a little off to Pete. It also made him feel awkwardly better about the whole situation, given that they would not be interested in bedding his daughter. He couldn’t help but feel selfish for thinking that at the moment, though, since they were sitting in front of him with an obvious case of either the flu or poisoning. It wouldn’t surprise him, since they said that fog rolled in off the river.
“Well, the first thing we need to do is get you down to the clinic and get you checked out. We may need to run you down to Jamison County though in Barrelton and get you admitted to the hospital,” Pete said. “Geez, you boys look awful!”
“Thank you, Mr. Brown, but what we would really like to do is get back to Bloomington and go the hospital there. That’s where Mickey’s family is, and he wants to be closer to them right now,” Jason said putting his arm around Mickey.
Pete realized that they were definitely gay, and that put an almost sympathetic smile on his face.
“Yeah, that’s definitely what I would like to do. I don’t want to end up like those people down at the dock,” Mickey said. “I’m also really hungry right now. Sick and hungry, both. God, this sucks!”
People down at the dock? Pete thought to himself.
Pete wondered if Mickey was referring to the boozehounds that passed out by the ’Stow the night before, or if he was taking a jab at the working class with that statement. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with the people down at the dock?” Pete asked. He pulled the drapes back from the front window and tried to look outside, but he couldn’t see down the bluff beyond the ’Bend.
“The same thing happened to them. Everyone in the lowland area got sucked into that cloud, and we could hear them screaming before we passed out,” Mickey said. “Then when we woke up this morning, we could see them all congregating, herding to the dock, looking just like we look right now. They all h
ad blankets wrapped around them and were pale and weak — like us. When we left, we could see them drinking out of the river!”
Jason thought it would have been better to at least stay and see what they were doing. Maybe those people knew something about it they didn’t. Maybe they knew how to deal with it, since it might not have been their first rodeo. He also remembered that alluring smell that had made him want to join them, but Mickey had insisted on packing up and leaving. He loved him enough to do as he asked. It seemed to be hitting him harder anyway. So they had just made their way up there to Izzy’s old man’s place.
Pete was a little perplexed at the notion, and at first he just thought maybe they were so sick they were hallucinating.
“Well, you boys can’t drive all the way to Bloomington, that’s for sure. Not in the condition you’re both in,” Pete said.
Jason gave him a pleading look. “We realize that, Sir, but there is no way we can play in New Albany tonight and we were hoping that we could get Izzy to drive us back. We could have Mickey’s aunt bring her home . . . if that’s okay?”
Pete loved the fact that they were asking his permission to do this, but it was not necessary. He had let Izzy out to travel with them all over for months. She was old enough to make those kinds of decisions herself.
“Well, sure she can, but you’ll need to ask her first.”
“Ask me what?” Izzy said, walking into the room. She had a case of bedhead and looked sleepy. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a short shirt that exposed her midriff. The black lipstick had been smeared off in a hurry the night before, and her makeup was still sticking to a few parts of her face. She stretched and yawned before she could get a good look at Mickey and Jason.
“Oh, my God! What happened to you?” Izzy exclaimed. She sat beside Jason and ran her hand through his hair like she was checking its temperature, but he jerked his head away.
“The boys got sick last night; some sort of fog cloud rolled through and messed them up. Not sure how, but it really did a number on them,” Pete said.
Izzy turned her attention back to Jason and Mickey with obvious sympathy.
“Can you drive us back to Bloomington? Mickey really wants to see his own doctor,” Jason said.
“Of course,” Izzy said. She went to her bedroom to change.
That was one of the things Pete loved about his daughter. She had always been one to care about the people in her life, including him. Not having a mother might have forced her to grow up too quickly, but she was a kind-hearted young lady and he couldn’t have been more proud of her.
“There’ll be no need to have your aunt drive her back. I’ll just follow you guys in my car and bring her back myself,” Pete said.
“Thank you, Mr. Brown,” Jason said.
Although Pete wasn’t complaining, he couldn’t help but be a little surprised that they kept calling him Mr. Brown. It was just last night that they were up on stage thrashing out that young new-age rock music that was so creepy. They gave off the impression that they could care less about the formalities of American society. But he liked the fact that they had a tamer side. It made him feel better about sending his daughter on the road with them.
***
10
Candy Odair and Sandra Stamps were making their way through town while Sandra was still drying her hair and applying lipstick and other makeup to cover up her pale, sickly skin.
Their Caprice still stunk from all the human waste from the night before. Candy had tried to vacuum most of it out while Sandra was in the shower, but she did a lackluster job and she knew the kids would complain.
No matter, they’ll just have to put up with it. There’s too much at stake tonight, Candy thought to herself.
Sandra was having trouble getting her makeup just right. Once they crossed onto Locust Street, the potholes caused her to smear the makeup on her face. She was so tired and weak that she almost didn’t care, but her mother had insisted on this escapade and she had been living with her long enough that she knew better than to go against her. All Sandra really wanted to do was find something to eat and go to sleep.
When they reached the rear side of the Co-op, Candy could see that Ellen and Sebastian were upset. Ellen was on Burnley’s lap with her face buried in his chest, while Sebastian sat alone on a hay bale, not saying a word.
“You go up there and get our baby girl off that nigger’s lap and see that she doesn’t get in crying the whole time,” Candy said.
Sandra rolled her eyes and started to get out of the car when Candy grabbed her arm.
“And you see to it that nigger never comes around her again, you hear me, bitch?” Candy said.
Sandra gave her a dirty look and jerked her arm away.
She made her way up to Burnley, but Sebastian stopped her before she could get there.
“Can’t you just let us stay here a little bit longer? We need to make sure Dad’s okay,” Sebastian said.
Sandra smiled and ran her hand through his hair, almost seeming to care about his feelings.
“Oh, Sebastian. You know I can’t do that. Your dad is dead.”
Sebastian turned sideways, not convinced.
“He’s not dead! He just needs a doctor.”
Sandra giggled, took her hand off his hair and walked away to get Ellen.
Burnley was eyeing her like he’d just seen a serpent emerge from the ground. He had heard what she had said to Sebastian and it almost made him sick to his stomach. He wondered if anyone would miss those two ladies if he knocked them out with a tire iron and threw them in the Ohio.
Let the river wash away their polluted souls!
Sandra reached down to grab Ellen out of Burnley’s lap without even saying a word to him. He had no choice but to give her up, but Ellen held onto him and did not want to go.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but your momma’s here and she needs to take you with her,” Burnley said.
“No, Burny, no. I want to stay here with you,” Ellen said, grasping onto him more tightly as her mother tried to pull her away.
“Come on, little woman, it’s time to go,” Sandra said and jerked Ellen away with enough force to break her grip, snapping them both backward.
“Careful, now!” Burnley said.
Ellen was reaching back for Burnley when Sandra turned her around and faced him herself. She tried to speak so Ellen and Sebastian could not hear her, but that was not possible.
“You’ll keep your nigger hands off my daughter if you know what’s good for you,” Sandra said, but in a more hesitant tone than her mother’s.
Burnley just stood there, speechless. He was not sure what to say back to her that would not come back on the kids a mile or so down the road, so he just said nothing.
Sandra walked off with Ellen in her arms and pulled Sebastian along behind her. After they got in the car and drove off, Burnley snapped his hands backward and punched the hay bale a few times, and then jerked around to see if he could still see them driving away.
Some day, ladies, karma’s gonna come-a-knocking! And I hope you’re scared when it does!
* * *
They’d made it less than a quarter of a mile down the road when they came across the wreckage of Bob Stamps’ Wagoneer. Teams of emergency workers maneuvered around the vehicle. Bob had already been taken from the wreck and transported down to the Jamison County morgue.
Sebby and Ellen were glued to the driver’s side window in the back seat of the Caprice. Air and wet road residue was coming in through a rusted hole in the floorboard, but they did not pay any attention to it. The only thing they wanted to see was if their dad was okay.
The Caprice made its way west, out of town and toward Barrelton, as the image of their Dad’s Jeep receded in the back window.
Candy and Sandra were not looking, but rather were paying attention to the road and each other as they approached Derbie.
“You get that makeup on, now. The road is clear ahead and I want you to be ready as soon a
s we get there,” Candy said.
“It’s still an hour and a half up the road. I’m sure I’ll be ready by the time we get there. But even still, it’s early and there’ll be no one there,” Sandra said.
“You let me worry about that. When we get there, I want to set up this VHS recorder in the room so he won’t be able to see it. It’s Saturday, so he will get to the Riverboat by noon and he should be good and loaded by around two in the afternoon.”
“How did you find out about this guy . . . and who is he?”
“Not that you need to worry about that part, but he is the chief executive for a pharmaceutical company down there. His wife and kids are up in French Lick for the weekend so he will be an easy . . .” Candy slowed down to choose her words wisely around the kids. “T-A-R-G-E-T.”
Sandra sat back in her seat and moaned under her breath. She was so hungry that it was driving her insane. Her whole body hurt and her vagina was rubbery and tender, like the skin of a mushroom. She wanted to make the score, but there were other things on her mind at the moment.
As they made their way along a scenic path on the Ohio River, the smell that Sandra craved still hung in the air, although it was much fainter than before. That eased her hunger a bit, but she still wanted to sleep. Her muscles felt like they were deteriorating.
“God! When are we gonna stop and eat?! I’m starving!” Sandra said.
Candy looked at her with wicked eyes and then looked away. She knew how Sandra felt, because she was feeling the same way. But she was focused on the task at hand. She had been planning it for a week now, after she’d received a tip on the matter at hand. If their plan fell through, she was going to knife the man and take whatever he had on him. Either way, she wasn’t going to walk away empty-handed. At least they had Bob’s life insurance to fall back on. If the bumbling idiot remembered to pay it.
***
11
Sandra and Candy had already been to the hotel and rigged the room with cameras for their new score. It was their intention to get Larry McConnell to come back to the hotel room with them after he was good and drunk from the riverboat.
