The Fall of Polite

by Sam Kench

  He continued to sweat despite the cold. A shadow passed over the light from inside the closet and Eamon’s finger twitched over the trigger. He pulled it halfway, then released it. He shut his eyes briefly and made an effort to slow his breathing so he wouldn't sound weak. ‘Paul, is that you?’, Eamon asked and then braced himself for gunfire to obliterate the thin wooden door.

  ‘… Eamon?’ his brother's voice responded.

  ‘Oh, Jesus Christ!’ Eamon let out a laugh in relief and lowered his shotgun to the floor. He doubled over as the closet door opened up and his brother Paul stepped out holding a shotgun of his own. They had been aiming at each other through the door, each ready to blow the other away. Eamon and Paul quickly crossed the room and embraced each other.

  ‘I’m so glad you’re alive.’

  ‘We didn’t know that was you down there. Oh Jesus, I am so happy to see you.’ Paul tugged on his little brother’s ears. Paul was older by a few years but Eamon was a whole eight-inches taller. Eamon looked past him and saw his sister-in-law and their two children standing in the closet. Lucille also had a shotgun and the twins, Lucy and Cindy, aged 10, each held a handgun as big as their torsos.

  ‘It’s good to see you, Eamon.’ Lucille said, stepping out into the room.

  ‘Uncle Eamon!’ The twins shouted in unison. They ran across the room and each hugged onto one of his tree-trunk legs, their guns still in hand.

  ‘I’ll take those back now, girls.’ Paul took the handguns away from them, switched the safeties on, and tucked them under his belt.

  Eamon fell to a seat in a white wicker chair against the wall. He leant his gun against the wall and rubbed a hand over his face. The twins climbed up onto his lap. ‘You have no idea how scared I was coming through your house just now.’

  ‘You’re tellin’ me? I had the girls saying their prayers when you knocked our door in. Speaking of which, you’ll nail that back up?’

  ‘Of course. Soon as the others get in.’

  ‘Oh good, you’re not alone,’ Cindy said, ‘What a relief. I thought something terrible had happened.’

  Eamon rubbed his hand through his beard to his mouth. His fingers disappeared. He set the twins down and stood up. He walked in between his brother and sister-in-law and lowered his head. ‘I need to tell you something, but it’s not easy for me to say.’

  ‘Oh god,’ Paul said grabbing onto his brother’s arm.

  ‘It’s Ally… she’s de-…’ Tears welled in his eyes. He forced himself to continue, ‘She was killed.’

  Cindy hugged him and Paul wrapped his arms around both of them. ‘I’m so sorry, Eamon,’ she whispered. Eamon had felt he could hold back the tears, but their touch brought it out of him. He hoped the twins weren’t paying much attention.

  ‘Did you get the bastard who did it?’

  Eamon sucked in a long breath, his fists clenched. ‘I killed all of them.’

  ‘Good. I hope you took your time with them.’ Paul wanted to spit on the floor.

  ‘I should’ve taken longer.’ Eamon had once been at the mercy of a violent side, long ago. He had successfully tucked it away upon meeting Beth and it hadn’t seen the light of day until a week ago.

  ‘And Beth?’ Cindy asked cautiously.

  ‘She’s okay. She’s outside.’

  ‘Oh, well let’s bring her in.’ Paul stepped out of their tiny circle and moved toward the window.

  ‘There’s someone else with us if that’s okay. A girl, Maria. We found her freezing on the side of the road.’

  ‘Yes, that’s okay. Where are they?’ Paul asked, looking out of the window.

  ‘They’re waiting in the truck.’

  ‘Where’d you move it to?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ A wave of realization hit Eamon. He ran to the window and looked out to the empty spot where the blue pickup truck had been. ‘Shit, shit!’ He sprinted downstairs and out the front door. He ran to the end of the driveway and looked down the road as far as he could see. They were long gone.

  ***

  BETH WIPED TEARS from her eyes as she drove. Maria tried to console her from the passenger seat to no avail. They had waited outside the house longer than Eamon had told them to. She was still grieving the death of her daughter and now she had to add the perceived death of her husband onto her pile of sorrows as well. Her shoulders sagged low under this heavy, emotional weight.

  Her driving wasn’t steady. The truck tires slid on the ice and snow but she didn’t slow down. Maria held onto the dashboard but didn’t dare ask her to slow down or to be careful.

  ‘I can’t believe it. I shouldn’t have let him go in there. We should have just kept going north. I’m such an idiot. We should’ve kept going north to my mother’s. I’m such a goddamn idiot. We should go back. He could still be alive. Should we go back?’

  Maria didn’t know what to say. ‘I don’t uh-’

  ‘No, he said not to. I promised. I swore to him. God damn it. He wants us to stay alive. We can keep going for him, Ally-’ She gasped at herself. Her foot left the gas pedal and a hand flung to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know why I called you that… Maria. I’m sorry.’

  Beth kept speaking fast and in circles. Maria let her talk. She didn’t interrupt, she just listened. After an hour, Beth had talked herself out. She drove quietly, whimpering.

  ***

  EAMON WAS FURIOUS WITH HIMSELF. How could he have let the time slip away from him like that? He punched himself hard in the side of the head, then did the same to the other side. He went for a third punch, but Paul restrained him.

  ‘Stop it!’

  Eamon dropped to his knees. ‘I fucked everything up!’

  ‘Eamon, listen-’

  ‘Give me your keys.’ Eamon stood up and grabbed at Paul’s pocket.

  ‘Eamon-’ Paul fished out his keys and Eamon snatched them from his hand.

  ‘I need to go after her.’ Eamon ran to Paul’s truck and fumbled with the keys.

  ‘Eamon! It’s not going to work.’

  Eamon spun around. ‘What?’

  Paul pointed underneath the truck to a thick black puddle. He kicked away some snow underneath the back bumper to reveal the start of an oil trail leading to the road. ‘I went into town for supplies and the pickup took a couple bites from a 9-mil. It won’t start up anymore.’

  Eamon climbed into the truck and tried it anyway. Paul was right. ‘I need to catch up to her,’ He said, climbing out of the dead truck. He walked over to the tractor and started climbing inside.

  ‘Eamon, calm down. That tractor hasn’t worked in years, remember?’

  ‘Fuck!’ Eamon punched the tractor door. He skinned his knuckle and dented the rusty green metal. Suddenly he felt dizzy again. The exertion made him lightheaded. He stumbled backwards. ‘Are there any other-’ He tried to grab onto the side of the tractor to steady himself but slipped and fell to the ground.

  ‘Eamon!’ Paul ran over and helped him sit up. ‘Are you sick?’

  ‘I’ll go after her on foot.’ Eamon woozily got onto his feet in a squat but had trouble standing the rest of the way up.

  ‘Don’t be crazy.’ Paul said as he helped Eamon stand. He took Eamon’s arm and laid it over his shoulder to steady him.

  ‘I can follow her tracks.’ Eamon tried to walk forward but Paul stopped him.

  ‘When’s the last time you ate anything?’

  ‘Let go of me.’ Eamon lacked the strength to break free from Paul’s torpid grip.

  ‘You try to go after her in this state and you’ll die. That’s no help to anyone.’

  ‘Get off of me!’ Eamon mustered the last of his energy to shove his brother away. He took two steps forward, then folded in on himself. His unconscious body hit the ground with a slushy thud.

  EAMON AWOKE ON THE COUCH in the living room. Paul had planned on carrying him up to the spare bedroom, but hadn’t managed to heave Eamon’s bulky frame up the stairs, even with Lucille’s help.

&nbs
p; Eamon wandered his way into the kitchen and found a plate waiting for him on the island surrounded by his brother’s family. He didn’t really think of Lucille and the twins as his own family.

  They’d had food in the truck, they'd had a safe enough place to sleep, but since Ally died, Eamon had refused himself both as some sort of penitence.

  They sat at the kitchen table. The front door was nailed shut once again. An electric lantern cast harsh bluish-white light throughout the room, making everyone’s skin look sickly pale. Only Eamon’s skin actually was. Lucille stood with a frying pan over the pilot light of their gas stove frying up bacon and eggs.

  ‘So the chickens are okay? I saw your cows on the way in. What happened there?’ Eamon rubbed his head in an attempt to lessen a headache that wouldn’t go away. Cindy tugged on his pant leg and offered him a glass of water. ‘Thank you, darling,’ he said taking the glass and patting her on the head. He drank too fast and coughed vociferously.

  ‘Some townies drove up to our farm,’ Paul said breaking a piece of bread in half and offering it to Eamon. ‘Teenagers I think. We hid upstairs. Heard lots of yelling and shooting, but it’s hard to make out what anyone’s saying from up there. Don’t think they tried getting inside. If they did try, they were at least quiet about it. When we came out, I found the cows riddled with bullets. Used them as target practice I guess. Maybe just a bit of fun for them.’

  Lucille added, 'They might've wanted to prove to themselves that they could kill something easy… before moving on to people.'

  ‘They been back?’ Eamon asked.

  Lucille set a plate of food down in front of Eamon and he began eating.

  Paul took a plate of his own. ‘No. Hopefully they don’t. That was a few days ago now.’

  Eamon ate his food quickly and spoke with his mouth full. ‘As soon as I’ve eaten, I’m off.’

  ‘You should really stay the night. It’ll be dark soon.’ Paul watched his brother eating and knew he was on the losing side of the disagreement. ‘Come on, get one good night’s sleep in you before you go chasing after her.’

  ‘I can’t wait. I can’t let her get too far ahead of me. She’ll stop for the night somewhere to sleep, and if I move quickly enough, that’s when I can catch up to her.’

  ‘You know her tracks are probably gonna get too muddled to follow, soon as she hits a main road.’

  ‘I know… but I have to try. What am I if I don’t?’

  Paul thought about saying, my brother, but he didn’t.

  There was a period of time lasting for well over a decade that saw Eamon and Paul refusing to speak a single word to each other. This stretch of time began shortly after Eamon joined the Hand-Breaker MC and broke their parents’ hearts. The long distance and frequent travel, before the advent of cellphones, would have already made staying in touch difficult enough without the addition of a growing familial rift.

  ‘You’re killing our parents!’ Were Paul’s last words to him, shouted into his kitchen phone.

  ‘Fuck you.’ Were Eamon’s last words to Paul, before slamming the receiver in the phonebooth that he had to duck down to fit inside of.

  When their parents did eventually pass away a couple of years later, one shortly after the other, Paul almost picked up the phone to call Eamon, but he didn’t know how to reach him, or where he was those days. Eamon wouldn’t learn of them dying until a year after it happened.

  It was Beth who finally convinced Eamon to reach back out to Paul while she was pregnant with Ally. The brothers both missed each other more than they had realized until they heard the other’s voice. Lucille had been trying to convince Paul to do the same, and his excuse of not knowing where Eamon was, was wearing awful thin the longer the internet stuck around.

  Eamon told Paul about the incoming baby, as yet unnamed, and learned that Paul had married his own wonderful woman and that they were attempting pregnancy themselves but were not yet having any luck. It didn’t take long for Eamon to convince Paul to pack up and move. They had already been looking for a reason to get out of Missouri for the last couple years anyway; ever since a new landlord took over their property and continually raised the rent.

  The prolonged silence made it somehow easier to let bygones be bygones. If Paul ever referred to Eamon’s past, his comments didn’t go beyond calling it the worst decision of Eamon’s life. There were plenty of things Eamon regretted doing back then, but he couldn’t agree with Paul’s blanket assessment and regret that whole period of his life. Without it, he never would have met Beth.

  But now Beth was gone.

  ‘Do you have any idea where she might go?’ Paul asked.

  Eamon was already getting close to finishing his meal. He wolfed it down as quickly as he could. He felt his strength returning to him with each bite of food. His headache receded ever so slightly with each sip of water. He thought about Paul’s question and it didn’t take him long to come up with the answer. He spoke with his mouth full, ‘Her mother’s. She talked about going there. We should’ve just gone there together.’

  ‘Where’s her mother’s place?’ Lucille asked.

  ‘Retirement home up north a ways. Near the border.’ Eamon was just about finished devouring his meal.

  ‘If you know that’s where she’s going, you can-’

  A series of hard pounds on the front door caught everyone off guard. The pounds came too quickly, one after another, for them to be from just one fist.

  ‘Hey who’s in there?’ A young, if devious, sounding voice called from outside. They listened to the door handle jiggle.

  ‘Shit, they’re back.’

  ‘Turn the light out, quick.’

  ‘It’s too late. They’ve already heard us.’

  ‘Open this door up. We want to talk to you.’ The voice leaked through the boarded door.

  A second voice, more manic, added on, ‘Yeah we just want to talk!’ followed by the giggling of a crazed townie teen.

  ‘Shit.’

  Eamon and Paul grabbed their guns, Lucille picked up the twins and started upstairs with them.

  ‘Wait!’ Paul handed the two handguns back to the twins with the safeties off. ‘Remember what I taught you.’ He gave each of the girls a kiss. Two gunshots blasted through the door. Smokey beams of light spiraled inside. Lucille ran upstairs with the twins.

  The handle jiggled again, the townies outside were surprised the door hadn’t swung right open. ‘They must’a barricaded it or something.’ The boarded door rattled as a kick was thrown into it. Paul moved into the living room and got behind the wall separating it from the entryway.

  Eamon quietly stepped up to the right side of the door and aimed his shotgun at the boarded window. He waited until one of them outside spoke.

  ‘Come on, kick it like a man!’ one of the teens said.

  Eamon adjusted his aim against the blank wood and fired at the noise. He blasted a large hole through the board and hit a townie in the neck and shoulder. The townie spun down to the ground, blood spraying from his neck. A single pellet of buckshot caught a second townie in the arm. The teen dropped his gun into the snow and howled, as yet unaccustomed to receiving pain, only bestowing it.

  The three teens left standing, two holding semi-auto handguns and one clutching a baseball bat, turned in bewilderment toward Eamon in the window.

  Eamon caught a glimpse of a jeep pulling into the end of the driveway, someone standing up through the top. He ducked down below the window and racked his shotgun.

  Handgun fire from the townies came in through the window over his head. Paul dropped to the floor. Eamon got low and leaned against the bookshelf that lined the wall below the window. He waited for a break in their gunfire to pop up for another shot, but before it came, he heard an assault rifle rip.

  A 30-round magazine was emptied into the side of the house. Bullets riddled the teens and punched straight through the front of the house. A shot punched into the wall and out through the bookshelf right beside Eamon, grazi
ng his arm. He dropped to the floor and got as low as he could.

  The entire front door was obliterated, and when the magazine ran dry, all of the townies were stone dead.

  Paul crawled toward Eamon, stopping on the left side of the now wide open doorway. ‘Are you okay?’ He asked in a hushed voice.

  ‘Yeah.’

  A voice called out from the jeep at the end of the driveway. ‘You alive in there, Paul?!’ The voice was loud, but steady and calm.

  Eamon looked over at Paul. ‘You know who that is?’ Paul shook his head.

  The voice repeated, ‘You alive in there, Paul?!’ The sound of the jeep doors opening and closing followed.

  Paul inched forward on the floor and peeked out through the doorway. He saw three men walking toward the house and another sitting at the wheel of the jeep. One was reloading the assault rifle, one had a hunting rifle, and the other clutched a decently sized handgun. The one with the assault rifle was dressed in a policeman’s uniform and wore yellow tinted sunglasses. Paul recognized him. ‘Probey?!’ He called out.

  Officer Probey chuckled. The other two readied their guns quickly, then lowered them when they saw Probey laughing. ‘We didn’t hit you, did we Paul?!’ The trio stopped walking halfway down the long driveway.

  ‘I think you might’a clipped my brother.’

  ‘Well, sorry about that. Hope we didn’t get him too bad.’

  Paul stood up and stepped halfway into view.

  Probey switched the safety on, moved the rifle to his back and let it hang off a black nylon strap. The other two lowered their guns further. ‘You can set the shotgun down now. Those punks are dead twice over.’ Probey was lean and fit. He had a runner's build.

  Paul looked down at the dead teenagers, and made note of their age. Awful young, ain’t they, he thought. He absent mindedly hung onto his gun.