by Bea Bledsoe
“His house in Blackriver looked about the same. Though less cheery.”
As she stepped out of the car, Leigh could feel her heart pounding. Dog knew what happened to Blackriver. The trauma of whatever happened was locked deep in that unstable mind of his, and no matter what she needed to do, it was going to come out of him one way or another. Leigh tapped the back of her pants to make sure that Sheriff Lacombie’s pistol was still there, tucked securely against her skin. Henry raised his eyebrows when he saw her check for it. “Wyos sure like packing.”
“Hopefully we won’t need it.” Leigh said without confidence. She reached up and knocked on the door, noting the peeling paint on the door and a sickly-sweet smell creeping up from the side of the house. There was no answer. “Dog!” Leigh yelled, banging hard on the door for the second time.
“Come in.” She heard his voice, strangely high, and sounded like he was standing just behind the door, waiting for them. Henry spun on her, startling her. He grabbed the side of his head, his finger curling through his brown hair.
“Are you okay?” She asked as she moved to push the door open.
“I don’t think we should be here. We should leave. Right now. I have a terrible feeling about this. Leigh-“ But she didn’t listen; what choice did she have? She had to know.
The door creaked open, and Dog looked down at them. Here in the bright sunlight he looked terrible in a way he hadn’t in the parking lot; his watery eyes were rimmed with red, his hair flew out in all directions, and his skin had the mottled look of an alcoholic. Some bizarre, hollowed-out version of the wild mountain man she had known in another life stood before her, swaying sideways. The door opened wide.
“Come on in.” He gestured, a single piece of hair hanging over his face. “There may be some room to sit in the living room.”
They stepped inside, carefully making their way through a hallway crowded with piles of magazines. A mouse skittered across their path, and while Leigh stepped back, Dog seemed not even to notice it. The places where light should have been pouring through the kitchen windows were instead covered with dusky t-shirts. Everywhere Leigh looked, there were open boxes of knick-knacks: CDs and newspapers, old clothing, and plastic garbage bags. She pulled at her collar, letting her other hand drift across the handle of her gun.
“You…you want to have a seat?” He awkwardly motioned to a stained ottoman. Leigh shook her head.
“We’ll stand, Dog, but thank you.” She leaned forward so that she was between Henry and Dog, her voice steady but quiet. “Dog, what happened to Blackriver?” Her lip shook a little, but Leigh felt unashamed of her desperation.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered. A tear ran down his face as he struggled. “I’m sorry.” He pointed behind her. They both slowly turned, their eyes meeting as they took in the wall behind them. It was covered with photographs of Blackriver. Most of them were older pictures, but some fairly new photographs drifted through the mad cloud. Hastily drawn black lines looped across the collage, circling faces and blacking out others. All the people in the photographs had numbers etched above their heads in no discernible order. Her eyes squinting in the light, Leigh stepped forward and gently pulled one down from the wall, halfway tucked behind a shot of the town center. The picture was of her family, standing proudly in front of the very small wood playground that her dad had built when she was eight. Leigh remembered that day very well, because as she had played on it, she had realized that she would always be playing on this playground alone. She had cried as she swung back and forth on the swing.
As she looked at the picture in her hand, a fresh wave of grief washed over her. In the picture, her father and her mother’s eyes had been blacked out, and above their head, the numbers 129 and 159 had been scrawled. She pressed it to her heart, trying to hold them there, safe in her arms, for just a moment. She missed them. Dog looked at the wall, staring without blinking.
“It’s my fault, you know. I told them about us, about Blackriver. I saw an ad in the Tensleep newspaper, and I answered it. I wanted to help get us back on our feet after the mill left, help get Blackriver back to being the town it was fifty years ago, when it was a paradise. I always wanted to save Blackriver, you know, but I couldn’t. People just kept leaving…” His face turned hard. “People like you. Left us open for the buzzards, to the predators.”
Leigh turned to him. “What do you mean, predators?”
“The problem is, you don’t know who you know.” He rubbed his hands over his head. “It was a disease, Leigh, creeping from one person to the next, making them not know their own mind. Started with the Kassels, then their neighbors. It started with the strange thoughts, memories colored with messy strokes and then you’re not yourself. I was up high, up at the shop in the mountains. They didn’t remember me for awhile. I knew…knew people were acting funny, but I thought it was the time of year. I started hearing rumors when the headaches started. I was one of the last. They couldn’t hold me.” He turned to Leigh. “Your momma was, too. She fought it. I wanted to help her, but I knew I couldn’t go down the mountain – I had to get out. And I did, that day, that terrible day. I saw them all standing in the circle before…” He closed his eyes with a cry and raised his hands to the sides of his head. “I think we got too loud. Asking too many questions. There was no blood. Just quiet. Sound and then…silence.”
Leigh met his eyes. “What did you see?”
He looked back at her, the defeat in his eyes unmistakable. “Hair dancing even after they were dead.”
“Was it a sickness? You said it was like a disease.” She asked, holding up the picture of her parents. “Everyone had a disease? Tell me what happened to these people, Dog!” Her tone released something in him, and without warning Dog spun away from her, a guttural roar coming up and out of his throat as he pounded his fists hard against his head. Leigh stood her ground as he twisted violently from side to side.
“GET OUT!” He screamed, before his voice dropped abruptly. “No, I’m sorry for yelling. Don’t leave me alone with them thoughts, please.”
“Leave you with what?” Leigh stepped carefully towards him. “What’s happening to you, my friend?” She took his face in her hands, his breath washing over her, reeking of whiskey. “Dog…did you hurt them?” She watched something change in his eyes, as a smile started at the corner of his mouth and pulled the rest of his face upwards into a twisted grin, transforming his face into someone else: someone cruel. Leigh felt the atmosphere change, and the crackle of dangerous energy seemed to fill the house. Her jaw clenched; a headache was approaching as Dog’s face lifted.
“You want to know what happened at Blackriver?” His voice was higher, sweet and terrifying. “Come back and find out.”
Dog lurched out of his chair and knocked Leigh to the floor, drawing his gun. She let out a cry as she went skittering across the carpet, but when she stood, her own gun was drawn. They all froze, but after a second, Dog didn’t point the gun at them anymore. Slowly and methodically, he raised it to his own head. His hand trembled as his face rose and fell: one second he was gentle Dog, and the next someone else, who seemed to be egging him on. Something was happening in his brain. The sickness? It was as if he was two people; as if his brain was divided.
“Stop!” Leigh screamed. “Stop it!” But Dog didn’t seem to hear her; he was far beyond them. The arm holding the gun jerked in tiny movements as he took uncertain steps to the window, like a child taking its first steps.
“PUT THE GUN DOWN!” Henry screamed, but Dog just laughed. “What do I do?” Henry yelled at Leigh, who crept towards Dog, the gun trembling in her hand. She was scaring him, but she couldn’t risk dropping it; not now.
The old man blinked, tears rolling down his face as the gun against his forehead trembled.
“Back up, girl!” He hissed from somewhere deep within. That voice was the Dog she knew. She kept moving. Dog shook his head back and forth violently, knocking the pistol. “You can’t outrun it. Can’t figh
t it. Can’t win.” His voice dropped. “I fought it you know. Longer, harder than anyone else. Got a mind of my own.” He tapped the side of his head with the gun. “Always have. Not always the best mind, but always my own.” His head jerked violently backwards before his eyes met Leigh’s again. “Fight it, Leigh. Make a maze you can get lost in. Keep them toes dry.”
When she looked back, there was a strange distance in his eyes and then the terrifying calmness took over. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “Forgive me for what I’ve done.” Then his eyes became not his own and his mouth opened slowly.
“GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!” His screams were so loud that it felt like they were going to bring the house down around them. Leigh felt Henry’s hands wrap around her waist, and he dragged her backwards through the dirty hallway as she yelled Dog’s name, her feet knocking over piles of newspapers and trash as she went. Henry wrenched the screen door open and cool, crisp air flooded in, but they weren’t quick enough.
A scream rose up in her throat as Dog Hawdenfir, the only other resident left of Blackriver, pulled the trigger. She felt the roar of the gun pass through her as it echoed throughout the small house. Dog was cloaked in shadow, but Leigh saw his head jerk sideways, and then watched as an arc of blood splattered across the wall behind him.
Her screams echoed through the dark home as Henry dragged her out into the light.
17
Leigh and Henry exploded out of the front door just as Dog’s body fell to the floor. Both of them stumbled forward, gasping for air, and reeling from shock. Leigh leaned over, trying to catch her breath, her mind playing that horrible image again and again, an image she knew would never fade.
“Oh my God. Oh my God.” She reached out and grabbed the railing in front of the house, holding on for dear life as the world spun around her. Splinters dug into her fingers as she rubbed them into the wood. When she looked up, a black car at the end of the street pulled away, squealing as it peeled out. “Hey!” Leigh screamed. “Hey!” She took off running after it, Henry calling her name behind her. The car turned the corner at and disappeared. Leigh bent over, her lungs heaving, her stomach churning. Oh, Dog. Leigh fell to her knees and leaned her head against the cool gravel of the road, waves of nausea making their way through her. I’m so sorry. She stayed there for a while, just focusing on the sound of her breathing and what she needed to do next.
Finally, she stood up and looked back at the house. Had Dog seen the car? Was that why he had killed himself? Was that why he had been so shaken, so confused? Back in the front yard of the house, Henry was bent over his knees, taking deep breaths. He was pale and white, his forehead covered with a sheen of sweat.
“Is he dead?” He whispered as she approached. She nodded and laid a hand on his back, feeling comforted by the flannel underneath her hands. They were here. They were okay. But Dog… she tried to ignore the bile in the back of her throat as the memory of the gunshot roared in her ears. A rusted pinwheel spun lazily in the front yard.
“We should probably check.”
“No.” Henry’s voice was firm. “It’s a crime scene, Leigh. We need to call the police.”
Leigh stared at the house silently, willing the words to come. “It was a suicide, Henry, not a crime.” Her voice was weak, betraying that she didn’t even believe herself. She closed her eyes for a moment.
Henry looked so mad he could spit. “A suicide that somehow seemed like a murder. He didn’t want to do that, I saw it!” He shook his head.
Leigh stared hard at Henry for a moment.
“There’s a payphone up the street at the gas station. Call while I’m inside. I can’t…I don’t want to just leave him there, alone.” Henry didn’t try to stop her, and she didn’t wait to see if he would try as she stepped up onto the porch. It took a second of mustering her will, but finally she opened the screen door and stepped back into the dark house.
The metallic scent of fresh blood washed over her. Moving carefully, she hastily made her way over to the photos, being very careful not to touch the walls. She plucked them down, one after another, along with a map of town, and a few documents pinned beside them. Behind the photos and the map, a lovely pale blue wallpaper appeared. Leigh tilted her head; the pretty blue sky was adorned with black birds. Her stomach twisted.
The largest picture on the wall was of Dog standing proudly in front of his auto-body shop, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, his boot up on the bumper of his truck. It was dated June of 2006. A small smile traced over her face. She would choose to remember this Dog, not the sad body crumpled in the corner just a few feet away, a man with a mind devastated by whatever terror he had witnessed. She held her breath as she gathered all the information she could, trying not to look at the place where his body lay: the top half of him was thankfully hidden behind a stained yellow sofa, but the blood on the wall was vivid enough, arching over her head. She watched his body cautiously; her pulse was firing rapidly as she watched his chest for any sign of breathing; a shudder, an inhale, but there was nothing. She counted to a hundred anyway. Dog Hawdenfir was dead, and with him any hope she had of understanding what had happened to Blackriver. Just as she turned to leave, she noticed something on the floor by one of his fingers; a crumpled note with Leigh’s name written on the front. She swallowed nervously as she opened it.
They’ll try to silence the girl. Let them.
Chills ran up her spine even though the words didn’t mean anything. The girl in the woods? What did she know?
“Goodnight, Dog.” She whispered before turning and walking back outside. There, Leigh gulped grateful breaths as the crisp Wyoming air took the place of the sharp tang of blood. Tears filled her eyes as she waited for Henry to come back, her hands clutching the photos and maps as if her life depended on it. Maybe it did.
Henry pulled up in the SUV. “Hurry!” He snapped, and that’s when she heard the faint sound of police sirens wailing in the distance. “I called and said I heard a gunshot. Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.” Henry was already pulling away when Leigh swung herself into the back The SUV shot forward in a flurry of gravel. “Seatbelt!” Henry commanded, and Leigh obeyed.
“Take a back road out of the –“she started to say, but she was cut off by the sharp look he gave her.
“Leigh.” Henry said through gritted teeth. “Sorry, I just need…silence right now.” She looked over at his face, a hardened mask of shock that reflected what she was feeling inside. They had just seen a man die. Leigh nodded and sat back against the seat. Henry spun the wheel hard and the car roared across a long lawn, avoiding the two main roads that led across the neighborhood. Then, just like that, they were back on the main drag in town on their way to the highway.
After about twenty minutes of silence, Henry’s breathing finally slowed, and he reached for Leigh’s hand.
“I need to pull over.” He said simply, and Leigh pointed to a small grove on the side of the road up ahead, a quiet spot surrounded by napping black cattle. The car came to a stop and Henry leapt out, emptying his own stomach on a pale sagebrush. After a few minutes he wiped his mouth, spit, and stood up, looking straight at Leigh with more than a hint of judgement. She slowly unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car.
“Are we accessories now? To murder?” He asked accusingly.
“It was a suicide, Henry. There’s nothing we did! And we couldn’t stay. Not with the police coming…”
“The police are involved in this, that’s right. A giant conspiracy.” The skepticism on his face was vivid.
“They are, Henry.” She snapped back. “You saw Sheriff Lacombie, heard his words! I wish it wasn’t true too. Do you have any idea how much I would just like to ’go to the police?’”
He shook his head as he moved towards her. “Yes, those small cops from Tensleep are involved, but what about the police here, in Cody? You don’t know what they know about Blackriver.” He paced back and forth, his hands out in front of him. “God, Leigh, I jus
t saw a man die, and you’re still going on with this, this…theory. What do we do now? Do we just keep going? At what point do we let other people get involved?”
“Henry…” Leigh let her voice trail off because there was nothing more to say to him. He was right. He was right, and yet she knew what she had to do. When she spoke again, her voice was more nervous than she would have liked.
“You’re right. You should go.”
Henry blinked as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “What do you mean, I should go? That’s not at all what I said.” His voice was heated as Leigh stared off into the distance. The sky was churning a dark, dangerous blue over the mountains. Above them, a cheerless gray Wyoming sky stretched across the high plain. It looked like it might storm.
“This isn’t your problem, Henry. You have a good, solid life waiting for you in Boston, and you shouldn’t throw it away that on this…situation.” Her heart broke a little as she said it, but it was true. “We’ve had fun but…”
“This situation?” Henry banged his fist across the hood. “Is that what you think you are to me? A situation to be rectified?” Leigh hugged her arms across her chest, feeling her beating heart. She could feel herself pushing him away, building a wall around her. It was the only way to protect him at this point.
“Yes.” She said softly. “This all needs to come to a reckoning. I don’t want you to get hurt. ” As she turned from him, she felt a hand curl around her upper arm. With a frown on her face, she turned back to him, ready to break whatever magic they had for his own sake, but then she saw the kindness in his eyes, so genuine that she almost wept. He touched her face gently, just once.
“You will never ghost me again, Leigh Montgomery. But I need you to hear that I think it’s time to get other people involved.” She nodded. He was right. She tilted her face up towards him, standing strong as the strong wind blustered around them.