All Dark

by Boyd Craven

  The triangular notch fit perfectly in the filed down portion of the eyelet. A piece of fish line was tied to the head of the nail. Then I saw what was in Grandpa’s hand. He was using his thumbnail to pry out a shell casing from some steel tubing.

  “Couldn’t figure out what length to use, so I tried out a few sizes. It just slides in the far eyelet.”

  It was simple, safe, and beautiful. It was literally a better mousetrap. The nail was the trigger and the firing pin. When pulled off the notch, the spring sent the nail forward, the tip hitting the primer. That would send a shot down field, which was a much, much safer version of what I was trying to do.

  “That’s brilliant,” I told him after a minute, suddenly feeling self-conscious at my word usage.

  “I don’t figure that you learned nothing fancy like that in that there college, did you?” Grandpa asked.

  Raider barked, and I smiled, shaking my head no. A commotion with the chickens behind me had all of us turn to see Grandma stalking forward, Grandpa’s pump shotgun in her hands. When she saw us all standing there, she put the barrel skyward.

  “Bud, what in the Sam Hell do you think you’re doing, you asshole?!”

  “Language,” Jessica and I chorused.

  Grandma gave me a dour look, then used her first two fingers to point at her eyes then at us. She was watching. She turned and started walking back to the house, the shotgun held loosely in both hands now.

  “You really don’t have to tie me up,” Marshall said for the hundredth time.

  “Shut up,” Jessica said. “It’s for your own safety anyway.”

  “Why?”

  “If they see you untied and walking next to me, they’re going to think it’s a trap and turn your stupid melon into pink mist from a distance. You’re Lance’s cousin, and my family never was too fond of Lance to begin with.”

  “Because you two used to be a thing?” Marshall asked.

  I wanted to butt stroke him with my rifle, but I didn’t. I’d gotten my kit out and was cleaning guns, waiting for it to get dark. Jessica thought she had talked me out of doing anything, but as soon as she was gone, I was going to start my plan. I hadn’t told Grandpa, but he knew somehow. I’d seen Grandma take my pack to the counter, and throughout the day she’d sneak something into it. Half a roll of sourdough bread. My face netting. Small bottles of water. Hard chocolate she’d stashed somewhere that Grandpa and I hadn’t known about.

  I was going to war. I knew it was stupid to say that, when I had real warriors and a real soldier in the area, but they were unwilling. The odds at the camp were overwhelming, according to the repeated conversations I’d listened to on Jessica’s radio. That’s when I pretended to throw in the towel. Jessica, low on sleep, napped for a while and Grandpa sat with Marshall. Actually, if he was going to escape, he had his chance when we’d all run out back in response to the gunfire, including Grandma. Instead, he remained sitting at the kitchen table, his hands folded neatly in front of him.

  “That’s one mark against Lance,” Jessica said. “The other is kidnapping people, torturing them, killing and raping and so many other reasons.”

  “Please don’t hurt my cousin. He’s the only one who ever looked out for me.” Marshall’s sincerity had me do a double take.

  “Where did you go to school?” I asked him suddenly.

  “I didn’t, well… I did, but I was home schooled.” Marshall’s sadness dried up, as he looked at me with a curiosity.

  “Why is that?” I asked him.

  “My parents thought I was too sensitive to go to the regular school. Said kids might pick on me.”

  Guys who were like your cousin.

  I didn’t say it aloud, but I thought it real hard. Still, Lance had been his protector. Was he autistic? Emotionally delayed? The first time I’d met him I’d known there was something slightly different about him and, despite everything he’d been through, there was still something slightly different about him. Where he should be a raging monster of insanity, or cowed, broken, he was neither. It was same shit, different day.

  “Emotionally impaired?” Jessica asked him.

  “I don’t like that label,” he answered immediately.

  I shrugged. He’d never shown any strange behaviors, except for a weird way he handled his emotions and an almost Darwinian level of curiosity that had led to me almost shooting him before. To make things more confusing, Raider, who’d been sleeping on the couch, perked up and walked over. He sniffed around everyone as Jessica was tying his hands in front of him and licked Marshall’s elbow. Marshall flinched but then saw the teeth weren’t out. Still, he didn’t relax.

  “Raider is telling you that he’s going to trust you not to hurt Jessica and not to get her hurt,” I told him.

  “How can you know that? He didn’t say anything?” His confusion was evident from his expression.

  Raider sat down and barked once, sharply.

  “He said he knows things, so quit being a butthead.”

  Raider chuffed, and Jessica grinned at me. “You’re finally learning his language?”

  “I think so,” I said as she finished binding his hands in front of him, an eight-foot tether coming off the end that she could hold.

  “Learn that in the service?” I asked her.

  “No, I was practicing my knots to show you someday,” she said quietly, shooting me a wicked grin.

  “It’s been thirty-five years since Grandma last tied me to the bedpost,” Grandpa said suddenly from the La-Z-Boy.

  Jessica must have forgotten they were in there, and she turned a deep crimson red. Of all the times for him to hear something clearly…

  “That’s because I wanted to go fishing!” Grandma shot back from his side.

  “Fishing did happen!” he retorted, loudly, “Took my pole out and everything!”

  I covered my ears for a moment, shaking my head at the sudden bickering and disgusting things my grandparents had started saying. Jessica fell into the kitchen chair, her hands over her face, her ears so red I thought she was going to have a heart attack.

  “Why would you tie somebody up to go fishing? Ma’am, we’re not going fishing, are we? I thought we were going to talk to your people?” Marshall asked innocently.

  “Dead, I’m dead,” Jessica said, laughter coming out as she was face down on the table now, her forehead banging against it softly, her whole body rocking with barely restrained laughter.

  “She looks pretty lively to me,” I told him, “and Raider and I are trusting you to listen to her and to keep her safe,” I instructed Marshall, suddenly serious again.

  The bickering stopped, and Jessica’s funny bone must have dried up. She sat up, wiping her eyes. She started to say something, but then stopped, nodding at me. She understood why I said that to him. Now that I sort of had Marshall figured out, I could understand him and understood why a monster like Lance, as bad as he was, thought this one man needed protecting. He had all his mental faculties, but he was innocent and was probably as emotionally mature as an early teenager at the very most. He hadn’t been exposed to much of the evil in the world. That was why he barely registered the abuse he’d suffered himself.

  Marshall gave me a solemn nod.

  “I still don’t understand what this has to do with fishing,” he said, looking at his bound wrists.

  This time, it was Grandma who lost it first. Then we all did.

  11

  I watched them leave at dusk, sticking to the northern edge of the road on the slope. It would be harder going for Marshall, but supposedly they had some sort of transport arranged, or a meeting spot. Jessica wasn't clear on that, and I hadn’t pushed. It was like she wasn’t clear on their family compound out on the logging land, even though we were basically together now. Maybe not after tonight though. I prayed she’d forgive me for what I was about to do.

  “They ready?” I asked Grandpa, who was carrying a burlap sack with a squared shape in the bottom.

  “Yeah, paint
’s barely dry. You’re going to smell like Rustoleum as you go out there,” Grandpa said softly.

  “As long as I can see the yellow stripe, I can shoot them in the dark.”

  “Grandson… again, what you’re doing is…”

  “Stupid, irresponsible, going with my gut when my brain says it’s a bad idea?”

  “All of those things,” he said, handing me the sack, “and exactly what I would have done. I’m proud of you. In case… Well, let’s not say, but I want you to know that I’m proud of you. You’ve done as much for your Grandma and I… I…”

  “I love you too, Grandpa,” I said, trying not to choke up. “Keep my dog for me. In case.”

  “In case?” Grandma said, carrying my pack to me. “In case of what?”

  “In case I don’t come back. If something happens, let Jessica’s people know, and get to them. I think she’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

  “You can’t take the whole camp on yourself,” Grandma said. “Jessica’s people won’t do it either. Their group isn’t big enough and they’ve got military help, remember?”

  “I won’t try to do that,” I told her, “I’m just going to do my own watching and waiting. If I see a chance to right a wrong…”

  “That’s what I was hoping you were going to say,” Grandma said. “I was kind of hoping for grandbabies someday. That’s why I was glad to catch you rolling in the hay with—”

  “Grandma,” I said softly and pulled her to me, hugging her tightly.

  She surprised me by hugging me so fiercely she almost squeezed the breath out of me. She held it for a heartbeat longer, then pushed me back. In the moonlight, I could see her eyes watering. I wiped a tear off her cheek and hugged her again.

  “This isn’t goodbye. I’m literally going across the street and into the woods and across another field to watch. I’m sure Jessica’s people will be staked out there as well. Jimmy even.”

  “And how are you going to make sure they don’t think you’re one of the bad guys when things get hot?” Grandpa asked.

  I pulled the radio off my belt, the one Jessica had given me, and handed it to him in trade for the sack of wrapped IEDs.

  “If they call, tell them I’m doing what I do best,” I told them.

  “Keeping your head down and your nose clean?” Grandpa asked.

  “Hell no, that I don’t listen to others very well,” I said, cracking a grin.

  They both nodded, but Raider chose that moment to jump up, putting his paws on my chest. He’d grown a lot since I’d first found him, which I saw now as we were practically eye to eye. He licked my chin and then rubbed the side of his face against my chin. I pushed him back gently, then patted his head.

  “Losing moonlight,” I said as the moment turned melancholy. “Raider, you stay here.”

  He sneezed at me, which suspiciously sounded like he was swearing at me. Grandma gave a low whistle and he cocked his head to the side, looking over to her.

  “With me, Raider,” she said, patting her leg.

  He sat down next to me. “Ok, Raider, you stay here with them. If you cause them any problems, they’re going to take away your morning eggs.”

  Again, he sneezed. I rolled my eyes and gave everyone a nod then started walking. I figured Raider’s disobedience and mouthing back at me meant he wasn’t going to listen, but I was surprised to see, when I looked over my shoulder, that the three of them were standing in the same spot. I was going to have to repack my backpack to get the sack of Ammonal bombs out of my hands soon, but I didn’t want to do it right there at the homestead. I didn’t want that to be their last memory of me.

  I was scoping out the spot I’d mentioned earlier to Jess and Grandpa and decided that if she had any doubts about my sincerity of leaving this alone, she’d place somebody there. So, I picked the next best spot I could. It was risky, as I’d found out the first time, but going back there would be the least likely area that Jess, Linda, or her father would suspect.

  Despite what Grandpa had thought, the paint on the jars was dry. He’d run a stripe across the lids, leaving the rings on. I could pop a canning lid at any distance I could see in normal circumstances, but this was a large field and the trees didn’t give a direct view from all angles, plus it was dark. That was why I decided to set my diversion near their vehicles. I had thought about it, and I rather doubted that the Hillbilly Mafia would allow the prisoners free access to the vehicles. It just didn’t make sense. Plus, if I could catch a few of the bad guys in the blast while taking out their vehicles…

  I was thirsty. I pulled my pack off and slid out one of the two canteens my grandma had snuck in behind Jess’ back. I uncapped one and started to chug when I felt the warm burn and the sweet flavor of Grandma’s doctored up lemonade. I swallowed about half, then spit the rest out and changed canteens. Liquid courage would be welcome tonight, but I couldn’t get sloppy. Still, I’d made it in and to the far southwest corner of the field and would traverse north until I got to where they were parking the trucks and bikes, away from the RVs and camper trailers.

  The moon wasn’t as bright as it had been on other nights, but there was enough of it for me to make my way easily through the gloom. I’d spent many a night like this, checking Grandpa’s traps or stalking deer, hoping to get them silhouetted so I could get a shot. I’d even taken the old poaching gun, the .25/270. I’d made sure the suppressor was fitted properly after my drink and decided to sit for a bit and see what I could spot through the binoculars I’d packed.

  Anybody could see the bonfire from a distance. It was easily ten feet across, and the flames seemed to rival the height of the trees around the field. After a summertime of no plowing or upkeep, the grass was easily thigh high now, so I had to kneel to do it. I could make out figures around the fire. Some were holding sticks near the flames, maybe cooking food. Others stood further back, arms folded. Some were dancing around, and I could hear snatches of laughter and what sounded like excited cheering. I kept panning, and tried to focus in on the darkened campers, wondering which one the ladies were being held in. It was likely where Emily and Mary were being held.

  A figure moved into my view and was gone. I panned again, almost missing it when a thin man walked to the fire. He held his arms up, and people seemed to settle and close ranks around him. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but when I tried to zoom in on his face, I lost the focus. By the time I got it back, the crowd was packed too tight around him, with the fire blocking the rest of the group. Time to move.

  I shouldered my pack and got the rifle off my shoulder. It was loaded, with every pocket in my pants, shirt, and overalls weighed down with the plastic cartridge holders Grandpa had donated to the cause. It was way more ammunition than I’d need. With a bolt gun, I doubted that there would be any call for almost sixty rounds of hand-loaded ammunition, but that was how much I’d brought. If I had more, I would have brought it all, but that was all we had.

  Besides, I could always throw rocks at them if I ran out. I patted my pistol through the side opening to make sure it was still in place under my coveralls and then got going again. I was moving slow, but not at a crawl. Nighttime was my friend, and I was trusting years of instinct and experience… and praying that none of Lance’s guys had night vision capabilities and sentries out; neither of which I had seen evidence of.

  “Not long now,” I said softly to myself.

  Grandpa had given me six jars of Ammonal and three of the triggers he’d made up so far—though I wasn’t planning on using them—and three pints of thermite he’d mixed up special. I knew how horribly dangerous just powdered aluminum was alone, but we’d added in the special sauce, and if things went well, the diversion Jessica’s group had constructed before was going to look like cheap fireworks in comparison to what I had in mind. I just wished I had more fuse. Another forty feet would have made me happy.

  I was most of the way to the trucks when the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I flattened myself to the
soft mat of tall grass and took a deep breath. Nothing had really triggered an alarm response directly, just a gut instinct. I couldn’t smell anything except for the campfire and my own sweat. I didn’t see or hear anything to concern me. That didn’t stop me from pulling the rifle off my back, and I worked it in front of me slowly in a prone position. I strained, but I couldn’t hear anything nearby. That was when I realized what it was that had made my adrenaline dump in great buckets full.

  There were no night sounds. I was far enough away that I should have heard more than just the raucous party at the fire, but I didn’t. I didn’t know what time it was, but I knew it had to be long after midnight by now. Hours and hours and hours after the raid at the farm.

  “…Danny, you queer this deal for me and I’ll bury your ass in this field,” a voice said suddenly.

  “Hey, man, it’s not my fault—”

  His words were interrupted by what sounded like flesh on flesh impact. He’d just gotten decked or kicked. I heard a body hit the ground and then retching. They sounded like they were right on top of me, but I could see a good ten feet in every direction. Sound was funny out here at night sometimes. They were probably twenty or thirty feet away. And Danny, the name sounded… it was the pedo. My jaw clenched, and I held the gun a little tighter.

  “I swear, I wasn’t even looking at her,” he protested.

  “Even James is tired of your shit,” another voice said, and I heard a heavy slap and a surprised intake of breath. “You damage the merchandise, and I’ll personally cut your heart out and feed it to you.”