Sewerville

by Aaron Saylor

  It never came to that, though. Boone headed for the front door, Elmer stayed where he was, and the morning continued as planned. For the moment.

  Boone stepped into the cabin and found Jimmy’s rifle pointed square at his chest. Jimmy sat upright in bed, but he recognized his brother and quickly lowered the gun.

  “What are you doing back already?” Jimmy said without getting up. “I thought we had our plan, that you were coming back in a couple of days?”

  “Plan’s changed,” said Boone. He grabbed Jimmy’s jacket from where it hung on the back of one of the plastic chairs, and tossed it to his brother. “Get up. We’re goin’ after the Slones today. Now.”

  Jimmy caught the jacket with one hand. He rose from the bed, and with his other hand stood the rifle up against the nearest wall. He looked out the window, saw Elmer in Boone’s truck but couldn’t recognize him in the dim blue light of early morning. “You got somebody with you?”

  “Yeah,” said Boone. “Elmer Canifax.”

  Jimmy spun around, facing his brother again. “You got to be shittin’ me!”

  “No. I’m not,” said Boone. “Sheriff’s after him, same as he’s after me, same as he’d be after you if he knew you were still alive.”

  Jimmy shook his head. “I can see already that this plan’s fucked up. What the hell are you thinking, Boone?”

  “I’m thinking we need as much help as we can get,” said Boone. “We’ll take care of the sheriff and then play it from there.”

  Jimmy gave his younger sibling a long, questioning look. He started to say something, stopped, started and stopped one more time, but let it go, sensing that there was no point now in trying to sway Boone’s mind. Elmer was already up there with them. Hopefully, Boone had played it right. If not, they were dead anyway. Simple as that.

  Jimmy shook that thought off. No point in worrying about it now. He took a couple of steps over to the cabin’s table, picked up a ragged piece of paper, and offered it to his brother.

  Boone saw it was a torn piece of grocery sack, covered in messy handwriting.

  “Here. Take this,” said Jimmy. “Guess it’s a good thing I finished it after you left last night.”

  “What is it?” said Boone, trying his best to read the scrawl but without much luck, save for a few words here or there: Me and Boone. I’m sorry. Love you. Be all right.

  “It’s for Mama,” Jimmy answered. “I want you to take it, just in case something happens. I want you to give it to her.”

  Boone handed it back. “Nah. You can give it to her yourself.”

  “Just take the damn thing,” Jimmy said, pushing away Boone’s gesture. “We ain’t gotta argue over this. Just take it and give it to her. She don’t want to see me no ways.”

  “She don’t want to see me, either.”

  “Just take it.”

  “I told Mama you were dead,” said Boone. “Don’t you think she’ll want to see for herself that it ain’t true?”

  Jimmy didn’t answer, but doubted that Boone was right. He paced a few steps around the room, then lowered his head, and said quietly. “She’s done with me.”

  “She’s not done with you.”

  “Sure she is. She’s been done with me a long time. She don’t want to see me and in all honesty, I can’t say as I blame her. It’s better for everybody if she don’t ever have to see this ol’ boy again. I’ve let her down too many times already, no need to do it again, right? No need to do it again. Just take her that letter, I stayed up most of the night getting’ it ready. It says everything I got to say. She can read. I wish I could tell her myself, but I just can’t. I never was good at talkin’ anyhow.”

  As he finished speaking, Jimmy looked back up. When he did, tears were leaking from the edges of his eyes.

  Boone couldn’t remember the last time he saw that.

  He folded Jimmy’s note and placed it in his shirt pocket.

  “Thank you,” said his older brother, as he wiped his eyes clean with his thumb and index finger. “Now let’s go get that motherfucker.” He slipped on his jacket, grabbed the rifle, and headed for the cabin door.

  When Jimmy opened the door, he found Elmer Canifax standing on his front step, with a .38 special in his right hand. It was aimed dead at the center of Jimmy’s face.

  VENGEANCE

  “Back it up. Put the rifle on the floor,” Elmer said. Jimmy did exactly as told.

  Boone reached for the pistol inside his jacket. “Elmer, I told you, stay in the damn truck.”

  “Careful, Boone,” said Jimmy. “He’s got the fuckin’ drop on us.” He stepped backwards into the middle of the cabin, empty hands held out in front of him, careful that he didn’t make any sudden moves that might set Elmer off.

  Elmer worked his way into the room in slow motion, inch by careful inch. The old wood of the cabin floor groaned with each deliberate footstep. For the first time, the brothers saw that he actually had two guns – one .38 trained on Jimmy, and another pointed at Boone.

  “Boone, if you’re thinkin’ about gettin’ your gun out, don’t do it,” said Elmer, as he kicked the door closed behind him. “If you move so much as a cunt hair, I’ll blow Jimmy’s face on to the wall behind him.”

  Boone hadn’t quite drawn his pistol. Now, he let go of the grip, held his empty hand upward.

  “What the fuck is this, Elmer?” he said.

  “You know what it is. It’s the end. The end of everything, boys.”

  Boone’s heart leaped into his skull, thumping in his ears like fists on a heavy bag. He glanced at Jimmy, who looked shaky and wide–eyed, as though he might burst into full–blown panic any second. Two minutes ago, they were on their way out, taking the last few steps they needed to make Sewerville nothing but a shitty memory. Not now. Now, a new reality had kicked down the door and put them both at the wrong end of a gun barrel.

  Jimmy looked his brother’s way. “What the fuck is this?”

  “Hold on,” said Boone. “Don’t move.”

  His mind raced. How stupid could he have been, to let this happen? He’d brought the fox into the hen house. His urge to strike at the Slone family had clouded his judgment so badly that he’d thrown in with one of Sewardville’s shadiest characters, never stopping to think it through in any real way. How could he be such a fool?

  Boone said to Elmer, “You made a deal with John Slone?” and as the words came out, he realized his voice was shaking and he couldn’t do anything about it. “His deal was better than ours? Is that what this is?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Elmer, you little fucker,” hissed Jimmy, clenching his teeth. “I’ll kill you myself.”

  Elmer shook his head, two quick movements to each side. “It don’t look to me like you’re gonna do shit, Jimmy. Now turn around and face that wall behind you.”

  “Don’t you move, Jimmy,” said Boone.

  Elmer squeezed the trigger and a bullet whizzed past Jimmy’s shoulder and splintered the wood in the wall behind him.

  “Turn around, goddammit!” Elmer yelled.

  “No, I told you, don’t move,” Boone told Jimmy again.

  The gunshot had caused Elmer’s hand to drop the pistol a bit, but now he raised it back up at Jimmy’s face. “You either back the fuck up and turn around against that wall, or I shoot you where you stand. It doesn’t make a difference to me.”

  Jimmy shrugged. “Do it then.”

  Elmer pulled back the hammer on the gun aimed at Jimmy. “What did you say?”

  “Go ahead. Do it,” Jimmy said. “Take your shot. Show us how big you are, big man.”

  Elmer pulled back, cocked his eyebrow, not quite sure how to react to that. He relaxed his grip, just barely – and Boone took note.

  Now he had an opening.

  With Elmer’s eyes locked on Jimmy, Boone yanked his own gun out from inside his jacket and had Elmer’s bald head square in his sights before anyone else had time to react.

  Elmer moved to straighte
n his aim at Jimmy and reclaim the upper hand, but before that happened, Boone clicked back his own hammer.

  And there they were.

  Nobody moved. Their eyes glanced around the room, each man sorting out his new positions.

  “Let’s talk about this,” Boone said to Elmer. “Before things get out of hand and somebody does something they don’t really wanna do.”

  “Fuck him, Boone!” Jimmy chimed. “Shoot the sonofabitch and let’s get out of here!”

  “If you shoot me, I’ll take both of you out before I go,” said Elmer.

  He was right. Boone didn’t doubt it. Unless he got off a perfect shot (which wasn’t likely under these circumstances) Elmer would surely manage some return fire, and in the cabin’s tight space he could easily hit one or both of his targets no matter how wildly he shot. Their best chance was to either talk themselves out of it, or wait long enough that Elmer slipped again and gave another opening.

  “Do you really think the sheriff’ll let you get out of this?” said Boone to Elmer, who shot rapid glances back and forth between the brothers. “You kill us, you’re just doin’ his laundry, nothing more. The minute you’re back in Seward County, he’ll have somebody on you. You won’t make it to midnight, I can promise you that. Do you really think he’s gonna let you go? Hell no.”

  “I got my deal,” said Elmer.

  “There ain’t no deals with the Slones,” Boone answered. “If you ain’t family, you ain’t nothin’ to them but a piece on a game board. You’re bein’ played. They’re using you to take us out so they don’t have to get blood on their hands. Then they’ll use somebody else to get rid of you. That’s how it works.”

  “You mean, like Walt used you to get rid of his own wife?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, you’re still here, ain’t ya?”

  Now Jimmy looked at Boone, seemingly surprised by this turn in the conversation.

  Elmer went on. “I might not be a cold killer like you, Boone, but I’m gonna do this and take my chances. Murder seems to be the way through the door. The way I see it, you killed Ellen Slone and that got you in with the family. Why should I be any different?”

  Jimmy took a half step forward. “You ain’t no killer. And Boone ain’t no killer, either.”

  “Back up! Back the fuck up!” Elmer waved one gun, caught himself, steadied and checked Boone again. “Both you motherfuckers, back up now!”

  Jimmy took another step towards Elmer. “Boone’s right, you ain’t gettin’ out of this. Why don’t you just put those guns down and let’s figure this out, okay?”

  “I’ll shoot you right here, I swear to God.”

  “You won’t,” said Jimmy. “If you had it in you, you already would’ve done it by now.”

  Elmer glared at him, then at Boone, then back at Jimmy. He held the twin .38’s aloft, but now his hands and arms started quivering. “Fuck you,” he said. “Fuck you, I’ll fuckin’ do it.”

  Nobody answered.

  “I’ll fuckin’ do it. Test me, motherfuckers!”

  Jimmy moved up another step.

  Boone pleaded, “Hold on, brother, just give him a minute.”

  Sweat beaded out on Elmer’s forehead, dribbled down the side of his face. His hands shook even more now and he could barely hold the guns up.

  Boone squeezed the grip on his pistol. This was it. This was the chance they needed.

  “Come on motherfuckers!” Elmer screamed.

  Jimmy muttered something under his breath – Boone would later recall it as, “I got this” – and then he rushed Elmer. For an instant, Boone thought he was going to make it, thought they were saved, thought this would end without bloodshed.

  But a half step before Jimmy tackled him, Elmer fired three quick shots

  Krak! KrakKrak!

  that hit Jimmy in the chest and burst out his back, splattering hot blood on the floor and wall.

  Jimmy stumbled back and went down, clutching his wounds. Elmer whipped his other pistol around and got off a couple more shots

  Krak! Krak!

  and those, too, caught Jimmy as he fell, one in the shoulder and one through his collarbone.

  All of that took two seconds.

  Boone froze in horror. As his brother crumpled face–down, blood oozing from his many gunshot wounds, the moment crystallized. Boone squeezed the trigger on his weapon, once, twice, three quick times. The first shot missed, but the other two did not. The second bullet caught Elmer in the jaw and blew out the other side of his head. The third one tore through the carotid artery, pouring blood out in a frantic scarlet gush.

  Elmer staggered, and crashed backwards. He was dead before his body collapsed against the cabin door.

  A moment passed.

  Boone surveyed the suddenly quiet room, and found his eyes drawn to the smallest details. Wood splinters. Bullet casings.

  Tiny specks of blood in odd patterns on the floor near his feet.

  Then, he realized with some shock that he was still alive.

  And so was Jimmy. Barely.

  Boone rushed to his brother’s side, knelt down beside him and pulled him up as best as he could. Now he saw the extent of Jimmy’s mortal wounds and how much blood had been lost, and realized they didn’t have much time.

  “Jimmy, oh God, Jimmy –“

  His dying brother breathed in heavy gasps that were getting shallower by the moment. His eyes seemed without focus, and his head dropped back against Boone’s stomach as he cradled him.

  Jimmy struggled to get his words out. “Boone… we got to get out… got to get out of here…”

  “I know. I know. We’re goin’,” said Boone, choking back tears.

  “He said it was you… said you killed Ellen Slone…”

  Boone brushed Jimmy’s bloody hair out of his face. “No, no,” he said. “Don’t worry about that.”

  “They thought… thought they had somethin’… on you… But they didn’t… have nothin’…”

  “Shhh. Shhh—“

  Boone felt his grip on himself slipping away. His tears flowed freely now, off his face and onto his brother.

  Then, Jimmy’s eyes regained some of their focus. He looked up at his brother and said, “I just wanted… wanted to ask you…”

  “Shhh, Jimmy. Hold on now.”

  “Did you ever think… that there was a way… we could have been any better?”

  Boone looked down at him, blinking away the tears that ribboned from his eyes. He wasn’t sure how to answer that. He wasn’t sure if he could answer that.

  But no matter. Not now. Jimmy managed a smile, looked up at his little brother one last time, and whispered, “I do… I do.”

  Boone pulled his older brother close, listening to the shallow breaths that he knew were the last Jimmy would ever take. He rocked gently back and forth, crying quietly but freely now. He cried for his brother, and he cried for himself. He cried for Mama, and Ellen Slone, and anybody else that he’d let down in all this mess. He cried for Samantha. Samantha. Samantha.

  His head hurt; his heart hurt. Everything hurt. He wanted everything to be over. Soon, he knew, one way or another, it would all be over.

  Jimmy closed his eyes, his shallow breaths stopped, and he was gone.

  After that awful moment, Boone sat still on the cabin floor. Again his eyes found some small details that he thought beautiful, even in their emptiness when cast against the mortal coil. Spidery cracks in the aged wood floor. Flares of sunlight through the grimy windows. Dust particles dancing in the air. Snaky tendrils of gun smoke, not quite dissipated, floating towards the ceiling.

  Soon, it would all be over. Boone laid Jimmy’s body on the nearby cot and put his brother’s hands across his chest. It seemed peaceful, the right thing to do. He kissed the still–warm forehead one last time, then covered Jimmy with the same blanket that had kept him warm during the fall and winter months since they had hatched their plan, their great plan, the plan which was supposed to save the
m but which had only led them into death. But Jimmy would not be the last to die; his little brother would see to that. Soon, it would all be over.

  Boone picked up Jimmy’s rifle from where it still leaned against the cabin wall. He took one last look at his brother’s body. Then, he walked outside, and got in his truck. He left the quiet countryside of Gallatin County, and drove through Owenton and Frankfort on the way back to Sewerville, where he would face Sheriff Slone and anybody else that got in his way. He would face them, and he would kill them. Soon, it would all be over.

  FAMILY

  For Boone, the drive back to Sewerville felt like nine hundred years, like ten lifetimes, like an ice age. He rode with a ghost, one that whispered Jimmy’s last words cold on the back of his neck.

  I just wanted

  to ask you

  Did you ever think

  that there was a way

  we could have done any better?

  He didn’t know.

  Now, Boone stood on his mother’s front porch, the last stop before he found the sheriff. Mid–morning sunlight brushed his shoulders and there he stood, covered in his brother’s blood.

  He could see Mama inside, seated at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading her Bible. He knocked on the door, as he always did, figuring she would just walk away into the other room, like she always did.

  But this time was different. This time, when she heard the rap at her door, and looked up to see Boone through the window, Mama closed her Bible and got up from her seat at the table. And to Boone’s surprise, she came towards the door.

  He wasn’t sure what he might actually say to her. He had rehearsed this conversation hundreds, thousands of times, but the time had long past since he really expected to have it.

  Then Mama opened the door. She looked him over and saw the dried blood on his arms and hands and clothes.

  He thought she was going to slam the door back in his face, but she didn’t.

  She just said, “Come inside.”

  She went back into the house, and he followed her. A few steps into the living room, she turned back and faced her son again. “Stop right there.”