Dead Man: Hell in Heaven

by Lee Goldberg

  "That's enough from you," Orfamay said.

  "I can prove it," Mouse said between sobs. "You get out the boards and the stones and she'll confess faster than she could pull off her drawers!"

  One of Arno's brothers reached down and swatted Mouse across the face, sending her sprawling on the floor. "Miss Orfamay told you to hush, Gilhoolie."

  Mouse pulled herself up on her hands and knees. "Do something, Vern," she pleaded. "You've got to do something."

  Vern had only gotten paler during the inquisition. When Orfamay turned her ferocious gaze on him, he looked like he wanted to pull his chinless head down into his neck like the turtle he resembled.

  "We've got laws," Vern said. "We've got a system of justice. We can't just take this on ourselves."

  "There's no question here," Arno said. "You heard –"

  Orfamay held up a hand, cutting him off. "Vern Gilhoolie is right," she said. "This is the kind of thing we no longer handle among ourselves."

  She turned to Matt. "What are you waiting for?"

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Matt had been watching with increasing horror as the inquisition proceeded. When he'd first seen the people of this town he'd been concerned they were some kind of religious cult, but he hadn't imagined it could be like this. Maybe it was the residual effect of living with Joan. Maybe her hate and evil had infected all of them, although he hadn't seen a single sore or tumor, not even on the two who'd been trying to kill each other over a pig and a bunch of chickens.

  Now they had all turned back to him. It took him a moment to understand why. "Me?"

  "Who else?" Orfamay said.

  "How about the police?" Matt said. "Is there a sheriff in town?" Even as he said the words he realized he hadn't seen a trace of law enforcement since he'd gotten to town, not even a forest ranger's truck. "We can radio for the state patrol. I think there's a station twenty miles from the turn-off. They can get troopers here in an hour."

  "Troopers got nothing to do with our law," Orfamay said.

  "It's not your law," Matt said. "If there's been a rape, there's a state law that covers it. This boy needs to be arrested by a law enforcement officer and held by jailers until he can go to trial under the supervision of a judge. And he's got to have a lawyer. I'm not any of those things. Are you?"

  "That's not our way," Orfamay said.

  "I don't care if it's your way," Matt said. "It's the law. You can't just choose to ignore it and write your own legal code."

  "Our law is laid down by the lawgiver," Orfamay said. "You killed her. Now you are our lawgiver. "

  Matt tried to understand what he was hearing. They'd referred to Joan as a queen, but he hadn't thought for a second they meant it literally. He stared at Orfamay, then turned to see the entire assembly staring back at him. "That thing made your laws?" he said finally. "She ruled over you?"

  "We had to do what she said," Vern said. "We didn't have any choice."

  "Now you do," Matt said. "She's not here anymore. She's not coming back. You can go back to settling these things the way you did before she came. "

  There was a roar of approval from both sides of the room. Vetchs and Gilhoolies and Runcibles and Hogginses pounded their plates and silver against the table.

  "No!" Mouse shouted from across the room. "We can't! Don't let them!"

  "I don't understand," Matt said, shouting to be heard over the din. "You don't think he's guilty. You want to see him protected. I want the same thing."

  Mouse didn't say anything, just put her head on her arms and wept.

  Matt looked from one side of the hall to the other. The people were all standing, shouting at each other.

  "Fucking rapist has to die!" shouted one Vetch.

  "She's a whore," a Gilhoolie screamed back, and then a chant went up from his side of the room. "Whore! Whore! Whore!"

  One Vetch took a step toward the naked boy, but was driven back by a hail of knives and forks. On both sides, men were rolling up their sleeves, getting ready to fight.

  Matt clapped his hands, then banged his knife against his water glass, trying to get their attention, but it was no good. Orfamay let out one of her hideous throat clearing sounds, and the crowd settled down.

  "Something terrible has happened here tonight," Matt said. "And I understand why you're all upset. But you don't want me to settle this. I didn't see anything, and neither did any of you."

  There were angry shouts from both sides of the room, demanding death for the boy, death for the girl.

  Orfamay cleared her throat again, and when the crowd settled, she turned to Matt. "Are you telling us you will not pass judgment, Lawgiver?"

  "I'm telling you I can't," Matt said. "But I will take him with me and make sure he gets a fair trial. Justice will be served."

  The room was ready to erupt again, but Orfamay's steely look silenced them. "Say it clearly," she said. "You are abandoning your responsibility as our lawgiver."

  "Don't do this, Matt!" Mouse shouted, but her voice was drowned out by jeers.

  "It's not my responsibility to abandon or to exercise," Matt said. "I'm not the lawgiver."

  This time there was no sound from the tables. Instead there was silence. A silence so deep and so empty Matt could practically hear the stars moving above the barn.

  And then there was a scream from the Vetch side of the room. Ezekiel Vetch had jumped to his feet and was racing toward the Gilhoolie table.

  "Fucking Hoggins killed my pig!" He launched himself at Alwyn Hoggins, who dived beneath to the floor. Vetch landed on the table and skidded across its breadth, sending plates and glasses flying. Before he reached the end, four Gilhoolies grabbed him and he was lost in a sea of fists.

  "Let him go!" someone yelled from the Vetch table, and a group of men started across the floor toward the Gilhoolies.

  "Stop them!" Mouse screamed. "Matt, you have to stop them!"

  He hadn't needed her to tell him that. But there was nothing he could do. He was shouting at the top of his voice, but his words were drowned out in the noise from the crowd. He fought to get up, trapped by the weight of the throne against the table.

  And then the table was gone, sent tumbling into the center of the room. The giant was standing, arms raised to the room, tears in his eyes. "My cousin's been roont!" he wailed, and then took off across the room. Heading for where the naked boy lay on the floor, curled into a ball.

  "You have to stop this," Matt told Orfamay.

  "I can't stop anything," she said. "Only the lawgiver can do that."

  Matt jumped up from his chair and ran through the litter of broken crockery on the floor. But no matter how fast he ran he couldn't beat the giant's enormous strides, . and before he could reach the boy, the giant grabbed him and hoisted him in the air.

  "You roont my cousin!" the giant wailed. "You won't roon another girl!"

  He held the boy's neck in one massive hand. With the other he reached down and grabbed the kid's penis and testicles, which were swallowed up in the mighty fist. And he pulled.

  The boy screamed in agony. His body spasmed as if he were in the electric chair. But the giant kept pulling and pulling.

  Matt finally reached him, tried to peel off his hand, but the giant knocked him back with a sweep of an elbow to his head, and Matt sprawled to the floor next to Mouse.

  "Stop him," Mouse sobbed. "You're supposed to stop him."

  Matt got back to his feet, felt the floor spinning under him, and took two staggering steps toward the giant.

  Too late. Even as he reached to grab the giant's hand the room was filled with a horrible sound of flesh tearing and a howl of agony from the boy.

  "Oh, God, Cal!" Mouse screamed.

  The giant hurled the kid back to the floor, and as he rolled Matt could see the bloody hole where his genitals had been. The giant opened his hand and displayed his prize. "Never going to roon another Vetch girl!"

  "Vetch whore, you mean!" Mouse screamed "Trash like that's only good for burni
ng. Burn her! Burn her!"

  The Gilhoolie table flew aside and eight men set out across the floor, heading toward the Vetches. Five more were heading for the girl, who was sobbing on the floor.

  "Burn her!" Mouse screamed again. "Burn the Vetch whore!"

  Matt moved in front of the girl, trying to shield her. But a heavy plate flew through the air and shattered at his feet, raking her naked form with ragged shards of pottery.

  Matt looked around for help and saw Vern sitting frozen in his chair. "Stop them!" Matt said. "You're the leader of the family. Don't let them hurt her."

  Vern looked at him, lips drawn so thin they looked like pale worms stretched across his face. He whispered two words. His tone was so quiet Matt was sure no one in the room could hear them. But Matt could read them on those bloodless lips:

  Burn her.

  The Gilhoolie men were almost on top of him now. Some had steak knives they'd grabbed off the table. Others carried bigger blades.

  "Stay back," Matt warned, his hand itching for the axe he'd left back at Orfamay's house. "I'm not going to let you hurt her."

  The Gilhoolie in the front grinned at him, and Matt could see blood on his teeth. From where? And then Matt saw Ezekiel Vetch lying on the ground under the Gilhoolie table, one hand pressed to the side of his head where blood pulsed out from the mangled flesh that had been his ear.

  "We don't want to hurt you," the Gilhoolie said. "You killed that bitch queen for us. But you don't want to make this stand."

  "I'm not going to let you hurt this girl," Matt said again, low and steady.

  "The whore is going to die," the Gilhoolie said.

  "Not at your hands, Gilhoolie scum." Orfamay's voice came from behind Matt. "We take care of our own."

  Matt turned to see the old woman at the head of a mob of angry men and women.

  "You'll cover up the truth about what this whore did," the Gilhoolie man said.

  "If she's a whore, she'll burn for it," Orfamay said. "But it'll be Vetch fire that chars her flesh."

  "You're both insane," Matt said. "She's just a girl. She's –"

  A heavy plate struck Matt's forehead and sent him staggering back. He looked where it came from and saw Mouse preparing to launch another one.

  "Burn her!" Mouse screamed. "Burn the whore!"

  There was a commotion on the Gilhoolie side, and a large man pushed forward holding a blazing torch. A broom, Matt thought as blood from his forehead dripped into his eyes. It's a burning broom.

  The man shoved the flaming end of the broom toward the girl's face. Matt dived on top of her, covering her with his own body, waiting for the stench of his own burning flesh to fill his nostrils.

  Instead he saw the broom fall to the ground, the bristles lighting the straw that covered the floor. He looked up. There was a pitchfork protruding from the Gilhoolie's chest. He stood absolutely still for one moment, then crumpled down next to Matt.

  That was the signal. On both sides of the room, men and women lunged toward each other, wielding knives and forks and broken shards of pottery and any other weapon they could grab.

  For the moment, they'd forgotten him. In their blood lust they'd forgotten everything, even the girl whose sin had started the war. Even the flames that were spreading across the floor and licking the walls. Even the man who refused to be their lawmaker.

  Matt folded the girl in his arms, then got to his feet. No one noticed as he made his way toward the door.

  Almost no one.

  "He's taking the girl!" Mouse shouted. "Stop him!"

  But they couldn't hear her. The blood had stopped their ears.

  Matt slipped out into the night.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The girl slept in the bed in Joan's guest room. Matt hadn't wanted to bring her here, hadn't ever wanted to come back to this house. But he was afraid that the warring tribes would remember the cause of their fight and come looking for her. He couldn't take a chance of being found on the road with nowhere to hide except for woods that everyone here knew much better than he did. He had a feeling they'd think twice before coming here, even if they were sure Joan was truly dead. He'd brought the girl here and put her to bed, then doubled back to retrieve his pack and his axe from Orfamay's place.

  He thought the girl was in shock. Her eyes were dilated and he could hear her shallow, gasping breaths from the living room, where he'd stretched out on the couch. Matt had tried talking to her as he carried her away from the barn, but she didn't seem to hear him. Her lips moved continually, but no sound came out. Finally he was able to understand what she was trying to say:

  It wasn't rape.

  Then what was it? Young love? Forbidden love? Cal Gilhoolie and Tally Vetch's daughter, teenagers from warring tribes, in love despite their families, despite their knowledge of what would happen if they were caught. Romeo and Juliet in the Cascades.

  Had they been lovers for long, sneaking around behind barns and in woodsheds in this tiny town? He thought of the trickle of blood that had been running down her leg when her uncle threw her onto the floor. Of small red spot on the boy's penis before the giant had ripped it off and held it up as a trophy.

  This was their first time.

  And their last.

  The boy was dead or dying. Matt had no idea if the girl would make it through the night. For all he knew what he took as shock was evidence of massive internal injuries. She could be bleeding to death right now, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  There had been. One moment he could have stopped everything. They had asked him to step and in take the role of lawgiver. If he had, maybe that boy would still be alive. Maybe that girl wouldn't be gasping for breath in the next room.

  Or if he'd never taken the highway exit to Heaven. If he hadn't gone home with Joan. Hadn't killed her. Before he came, there had been a lawgiver to enforce the rules. To make sure everything was even between Vetch and Gilhoolie. What would Joan have done if she'd found out about these two? Something worse than the burning the two families desired, he suspected. And they all knew it, and they all kept their passions in check. All their passions.

  That's why the girl had been a virgin until tonight. That's why the boy had been alive until hours ago.

  He'd killed a monster, but in doing so had he set free something worse? He thought of places like Yugoslavia and Iraq where warring tribes had been ruled by the iron fist of a dictator. Only when that despot was removed did anyone realize that he'd been the only thing keeping the sides from killing each other.

  He was supposed to step in for Joan. He had killed her, and he was supposed to rule in her place. And with her methods. That's why Ezekiel Vetch and Alwyn Hoggins had accepted his settlement in their fight. Because if they didn't, they believed he would have done something to them ... something terrible.

  Now that fear was gone, and there was nothing holding them back. The last sight he'd had of the Grange was the assembled clans locked in combat as the flames grew around them. They were all so intent on killing each other, no one seemed to notice the barn was on fire. Matt assumed that wouldn't last for long. They'd feel the heat and run out into the night, and once they were separated they'd begin to think again.

  It was possible that they'd come to their senses, realize how insane it was to wage war against their neighbors. That they'd reach out and embrace as they faced the new day together. Yes, that was possible. In the same way it was possible that when the sun rose, Matt could gather the girl in his arms and fly back to the highway.

  Most likely what would happen was that both sides, when given a chance to think through the evening's events, would realize that they had failed to murder this poor young girl. They'd come looking for her.

  And Matt had no idea what he'd do then.

  There was a sound from outside the house. Matt started awake, and only then realized he'd drifted off to sleep. He listened, waiting for the sound to come again. It had been a sharp crack, a twig snapping or a pine cone kicked aside.
>
  Not the mob. Maybe one person.

  One person he could handle.

  Matt went to the door, grabbing the axe from the coffee table where Joan had showed him photo albums of her son just one night earlier. Now the albums were gone, and Matt suspected they'd never existed, except as some kind of hallucination she'd planted in his head.

  What had she wanted from him? Someone to rule by her side, she'd said. Someone to distract her from her loneliness. But why him? Because he'd been the first man she'd met who wasn't with the Vetches or the Gilhoolies? The first guy who happened to stop by?

  But he couldn't have just happened by. He couldn't have. This town, with its feuding families, its strange way of speaking and lack of anything modern, it wasn't just some town lying off the highway in the Cascades. If there had ever been a town in Washington State with a feud like this, he would have heard of it. Everyone would have heard of it. It was simply not possible to be this isolated anywhere in the United States of America.

  Not in the USA of the 21st century, that was.

  How long had the Vetches and the Gilhoolies been locked in stasis under Joan's rule? Years? Decades? Centuries? It didn't seem possible. Hell, it wasn't possible.

  He tried to shut the idea out of his brain. To pretend that it had never crossed his mind that this was anything but a perfectly normal town that just happened to be inhabited by perfectly strange people. That the people of Heaven, Washington, were what he had originally feared, some kind of bizarre religious cult.

  But he couldn't.

  There was too much that didn't fit. And most of what didn't fit was him. They'd known he was coming – known him by name. They'd prayed for him to come, that's what the little girl Mouse had said.

  Then he remembered – only after she had started to say something else. Summ. Summoned?

  They'd summoned him, like some hero or demon out of an ancient story? If that was true, what did it make them? What did it make him?