Echoes of the Fall

by Hank Early

  Everyone was silent now, except Harriet, who lay on the ground still clutching the football, whimpering.

  “Every one of you will do morning time with Deloach,” he announced.

  “For what?” one of the boys said, his voice rife with the kind of smartass challenging tone most of these boys had mastered instinctually.

  “For bullying,” Rufus said. “For attacking her.”

  He turned to face the boy who’d spoken, a weasel-faced kid named Jake Sanderson. If Shank was the physical bully of the group, Jake was the mental one. He was a little kid, not just short, but so slight Rufus often wondered if there was some deficiency that kept him from putting on weight. His face was all bone and skin, the fleshy underneath stuff just wasn’t there, and when the light hit him right, he was more ghoul than boy. Rufus tried not to hold his unfortunate countenance against him. Rufus was keenly aware (even if he’d been so unaware of other things at that time) that his own appearance often put people on edge. He suffered none of the same physical deficiencies as Jake, but he did have pale skin and hair so unnaturally dark that sometimes people assumed it had been dyed for effect. He was rangy and moved with uncanny lumbering motions he could quickly convert to more economical blasts of pure power when the urge took hold of him, as it had just done.

  “We were just playing the game,” Jake continued. He was smiling slightly, pleased with the way things had gone, the way they were continuing to go. It was all a show to him, Rufus thought. Goddamn entertainment.

  He went on, his voice continuing to ease into a treacly innocence. “She was the queer, Mr. Gribble. We were just smearing her.” A couple of the other boys laughed. Shank sat up, his eye already shiny and swollen. Rufus touched his jaw. Not broken, but definitely bruised. Chewing wouldn’t come easy for a few days.

  “Game’s over,” he said.

  “So, what are we supposed to do?” Jake whined.

  “You’re supposed to step away from Harriet so I can check on her.” The boys parted, letting Rufus through. He knelt beside Harriet.

  She smiled at him. It was one of the saddest things Rufus had ever seen. “I should have done it,” she said. “I should have already done it.”

  “What are you talking about?” he said, but Rufus already knew. She should have already made the leap. Whether or not she landed safely on the other side hardly mattered, did it? Either way she wouldn’t be here, clinging to her identity like she clung to that damned football.

  “Are you okay?” Rufus said, and put a hand on her back.

  There was a laugh behind him. He was sure it was Jake. “Looks like Rufus has a thing for the dyke,” Jake said. “Maybe he likes boys and she’s the closest thing to a boy he can go for without admitting he’s gay.”

  “Maybe they’re both queer,” a voice said.

  “Who’s the queer?” a deeper voice said.

  Rufus turned and saw Harden approaching. He was grinning like it was all some big joke.

  “Harry and Rufus,” Jake said.

  “Well, I knew about Harry, the dyke, but what’s this about Rufus?” Harden said.

  Rufus stood up, shaking his head.

  Harden drew closer, getting a better look at the injured girl. “What the hell is happening here?”

  “They were playing a game that singled out Harry, I mean Harriet,” Rufus said. “They were going to kill her.”

  Harden spat on the ground, and then nodded. He stepped on the place he’d spit with his boot heel and drove it into the ground. “So, what’s this about you being a queer, Rufus? You like assholes? Dicks?”

  Rufus turned red as the boys laughed.

  “No, sir.”

  Harden studied him for a moment. His eyes narrowed and his cheeks tightened around his jaw. Finally, he nodded slowly, as if he’d just arrived at some decision.

  “Free time is over. Go back to your rooms.”

  Rufus tried to help Harriet up, but Harden said, “Leave her.”

  “I’m just helping her up,” Rufus said.

  “And I said, leave her there. You been spending too much time with her. Her queerness might be rubbing off on you.”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” Rufus said.

  “The fuck it doesn’t.” Harden had turned suddenly aggressive. It frightened Rufus a little. It was one thing to stand up to the boys, another to stand up to Harden.

  “Just leave her,” he said. “Me and my niece need to figure some stuff out.”

  And there it was. The moment he should have acted. Rufus implicitly understood he should have stayed with her, should have defended her against Harden just as much as he had defended her against the boys, but he didn’t. Goddamn, why didn’t he? He’d known, goddamn it, he’d known. But knowing hadn’t been enough, had it?

  He’d nodded and walked away.

  Looking back on it now, tied to the chair inside the cabin where Savanna had brought him, he realized the shadow girl had started that same night.

  38

  This time Ronnie and I parked about a half mile from the gate, leaving my truck hidden under the low-hanging tree branches a couple of miles from where we’d left his at the bottom of the mountain. We walked the half mile or so to the gate, staying in the woods as much as possible.

  When we reached the gate, we settled in behind some thick trees off to one side. The sun was up by then, but it was still pretty dark under the shade of the trees.

  “I could get over that,” Ronnie said.

  I turned to look at the fence, which was about fifteen yards away from where we crouched.

  “Nah. It’s electric. And there’s barbed wire on top.”

  He scratched the side of his face, frowning. “Yeah.” He thought for a little longer. “If we get in today, I could rig us up a way to get back in.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Well, I’d need some rope or line or something. But if I had that, I could find us a good tree on the other side. Tie one end of the rope to it, toss the other end over. Then when we left, I’d come around and find another tree on this side, tie it tight, with no slack. Then all you’ve got to do is climb the tree and work your way over.”

  It sounded a little farfetched, but I had to admit I was intrigued. The problem was, we didn’t have any rope.

  Ronnie seemed to read my mind. “That heavy-duty extension cord the kid was using for the Weed eater the first time we came should work.”

  “It would hold us up?”

  Ronnie hesitated. “Fifty/fifty.”

  “I don’t like those odds.”

  “Well, it’d give you a chance at least. Right now, you’ve got nothing.”

  “Actually,” I said, nodding toward the road, “that’s not true.”

  A Mazda hatchback was approaching the gate. Mindy was driving. “Let’s go,” I said, and pushed my way out of the trees, through the low-hanging branches, and began to wave my arms.

  When she saw me, the look on her face told me pretty much all I needed to know.

  Mindy didn’t look angry. I could probably have worked with that. Instead, she looked frightened. Stunned, really. Too stunned to even let the window down as I approached the vehicle. She looked from me to Ronnie to the unopened gate, no doubt calculating if she could get it open, get her car through, and close it before we could slip in behind her.

  I shook my head. “It’s impossible,” I said loudly. “Might as well talk to us.”

  Ronnie, thinking the same thing I was, stepped behind her vehicle, effectively blocking her from putting the car in reverse and escaping down the mountain. I felt a little bit like a thug, ambushing her this way, especially because she looked so afraid, but I didn’t see another option. If I wanted in again, it was going to be through her.

  I rapped on the driver’s side window gently. “I just want to talk,” I said.

  She shook her head, and that was when I saw the cell phone. Jesus, she was going to call Harden. Or worse, she’d call Argent. Then Ronnie and I’d both be in deep shit
. Argent had been just waiting for a chance to throw me and Ronnie in jail. He’d been fishing for something the night I’d found Joe in my yard and had come up empty. I’d been slightly surprised by how easily he’d given up then.

  Something told me he wouldn’t miss another opportunity.

  But she was still dialing. I dropped to my knees, pleading with her through the glass.

  She shook her head and put the phone to her ear.

  That was when it happened. The rock—more like a small boulder—slammed through her back windshield with a crack and then a thud as it landed in the back of the vehicle. Ronnie didn’t waste any time examining what destruction he’d wrought but instead climbed through the busted glass and swam over the seats until he had her cell phone in his hand. He ended the call and then tossed it through the broken glass and onto the road.

  I wasn’t sure who was more shocked, me or Mindy.

  Then she started to scream, and I knew it was her.

  “Open the damn door!” I shouted at Ronnie.

  He reached across the seat, across her, still screaming at the top of her lungs, and lifted the lock. I opened the door and knelt beside her again. “Mindy,” I said. “Mindy. Please. We’re not going to hurt you.”

  But apparently the same couldn’t be said of her intention toward me. She reached out, clawing me with one hand, raking her nails across my cheek, drawing blood instantly.

  I put my hand to my bleeding face and wiped it away. She stared at me, no longer screaming.

  It was Ronnie who broke the silence. “Sorry about your window.”

  * * *

  It took ten minutes of me constantly reassuring her we weren’t there to hurt her, that Ronnie wasn’t some kind of Neanderthal (this was the toughest part), and that we’d both acted out of utter desperation.

  Twice she tried to run, and I coaxed her back, telling her she wouldn’t make it far down the mountain on foot.

  “We’re the good guys,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time.

  “Good guys don’t have to attack young girls,” she shot back.

  “Yeah, I can see that. And maybe there was a better way to do this. Ronnie’s a bit of a wild card sometimes. Actually, he’s what I like to call a loose cannon. He just doesn’t think before he acts, you know?” I glanced at Ronnie. He was smiling and nodding along eagerly, and I realized he was perfectly content. Hell, he was happiest when reveling in the mess he’d caused, like a dog proud of the squirrel he’d killed and dropped at your feet. No harm, no foul, right?

  “What do you even want?” Mindy said with the kind of sigh that could tear a man down. She was beyond exasperated.

  “We want to help the kids inside that fence. Based on our conversation the other night, I sort of thought that was what you wanted too.”

  “I don’t think this is the way to go about it,” she said.

  “Do you remember our conversation about Weston Reynolds from the other night?”

  Her expression changed. “Of course.”

  “What if I told you it wasn’t suicide?”

  She just looked at me. “The police said it was.”

  “Do you know who Jeb Walsh is?”

  She nodded, her face tightening a little. “I know Mr. Walsh.”

  “What if I told you he owns everything in this county, from the sheriff to the district attorney to the mayor in Riley?”

  She made a face. I couldn’t tell if she was still with me or if she’d gone away, somewhere else.

  Turned out it was both.

  “I believe that,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mr. Walsh … he made comments to me.”

  “Comments?”

  “Inappropriate ones. I told Mr. Harden, and he said that was just how Mr. Walsh was and to ignore it. I tried, but then he grabbed me.”

  “He grabbed you?”

  Mindy looked straight ahead. “Yeah. And that’s why …” She began to cry, softly. “That’s why I was so freaked out when you did what you did.”

  I felt myself getting angry. “He grabbed you?”

  “My ass. He tried to play it off. Like it was a joke. I told Harden again, and he said to call the sheriff. I did, and the sheriff basically said it was my fault. That Mr. Walsh was a busy man and he didn’t need young girls throwing themselves at him, and how did I expect him to react with me being so young and pretty?”

  Jesus Christ, I wanted to hurt Jeb Walsh and Preston Argent.

  “So, I guess maybe I do believe you.”

  “Then you’ll let us in?”

  She hesitated. I was aware that the longer we sat here, the greater the chance we had of being seen. Ronnie must have felt the same pressure because he spoke up, nudging her slightly.

  “He’s a pervert,” he said. “Here’s your chance to do something about it.”

  “You seem like a pervert,” Mindy said.

  Ronnie lifted his hands, a gesture of supplication. Can’t argue with you there, the gesture seemed to communicate.

  “Take your time,” I said. “Just remember, we want to help you and these kids.”

  She nodded. “I do worry about them. The students. They always seem so sad.”

  I waited. Even Ronnie had the sense to stay quiet for once.

  Ronnie nudged me and jabbed his thumb toward more exhaust coming over the rise.

  “Somebody’s coming,” Mindy said.

  “Yeah, you’d better get inside. We’re going to follow you, okay?”

  She looked at the exhaust floating lazily toward the sky. It seemed in no hurry to get anywhere, swirling and dipping, reforming and then dispersing into the powder-blue morning sky.

  “Mindy?” I said. “We don’t have much time.”

  Our eyes locked. I saw in her gaze that she was going to trust me. I saw something else there too, something that nearly broke me. There was a transfer of power there. The power shifted over to me. She was giving me her trust. I knew I would never purposefully abuse it like some men, but I also knew I was a piece of shit who sometimes forgot others when my own interest reared its selfish and demanding head.

  “Okay,” she said.

  39

  Once inside the gates, Ronnie and I sprinted for the nearest cover, which turned out to be a small, well-maintained flower garden just off the drive. We knelt behind thorny rosebushes and watched Mindy’s car disappear as she made her way around the bend and on up to the school.

  A pickup truck materialized at the gate, and I squinted my eyes, but I couldn’t see who the driver was. I did note that it was a tan Silverado with local tags.

  “What’s next, Earl?” Ronnie said.

  I shook my head. I wasn’t sure if I should be angry at Ronnie for busting Mindy’s window or thank him. This was my natural state whenever Ronnie was around. His company pretty much ensured you’d be vacillating between utter frustration and complete awe, with a little gratitude thrown in for good measure.

  “What?” he said.

  I nodded at him. “That was quick thinking back there. I’m sorry about what I said. About you being a loose cannon.”

  “Shit. I can’t think of nothing I’d rather be.”

  I waited for the punchline, but then I realized he was completely sincere.

  “Loooooose,” he howled a bit too loud for my taste. “Fucking looooooooose!”

  I didn’t want to laugh. I tried not to. But in the end, it was just too much. I covered my mouth with my hand and gave in.

  It felt good.

  * * *

  A few minutes later, we split up. Ronnie headed for a work shed we’d found on the right side of the school. He hoped to find his extension cord and create a way back in. I made my way around to the rear of the school, to the garden, and tried to find a way into the building so I could talk to some more boys, specifically Eddie. Either that or catch one of them outside. Failing both of those, I’d at least be able to take a look at the falls again. It might not help me figure anything out,
but I had a powerful urge to visit them, to gaze across the ravine, to picture the place where so much had happened that was out of my reach now.

  We agreed to meet at the gate in three hours at exactly 10:45. Anything more felt like we would just be pushing our luck.

  “What if you’re late?” he said.

  I shook my head, feeling increasingly frustrated. Wasn’t he supposed to be the loose cannon? “Then leave without me,” I said.

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “You can and you will,” I said. “You have to promise me that, Ronnie.”

  He shook his head. “Naw …”

  I stopped walking. “I’m serious. You’ve already done time for me once. At some point, you have to take care of yourself. Promise me.”

  “Sure, Earl. I promise.”

  “Thank you.”

  “See you in three hours,” he said, and began to jog toward the work shed. I watched him go, thinking how my life had so rarely gone like I’d expected it to. When I’d met Ronnie three years ago, I would have bet the pension I didn’t have that we’d never get along, that in fact I would always despise him. For about a year or so, I would have been looking good on that bet, but somewhere along the way, our relationship changed. I still wasn’t sure if it was me or Ronnie who had done the changing. Maybe both of us. Maybe neither. But something shifted and Ronnie had become like blood to me. I didn’t have to like him or tolerate him. I could curse him, even ignore him, but in the end, I needed him.

  And maybe that wasn’t so bad. To need somebody. Sometimes I thought it might even be a good thing.

  * * *

  I headed to the garden at the rear of the school and immediately had to hit the ground when I saw Dr. Blevins standing outside the garden with one of the boys. They were about a hundred yards from me and I had no cover, so I simply hit the ground and lay as flat as I could.

  Dr. Blevins had his hand on the boy’s shoulder and was talking to him with a serious expression on his face. The boy—tall, rangy, and dressed in the blue pants, blue shirt uniform—nodded along solemnly.