Loreena's Gift

by Colleen M. Story

  “Let’s see, now, if I can remember,” he said, and started the two-step.

  Loreena frowned. Remember? Wasn’t this the dance he had been doing with Crystal? But he seemed uncertain, and stepped on her foot twice. Loreena tried to anticipate his movements, sensing his muscles through the hand on his shoulder, noticing for the first time that her knuckles touched nothing but air. Had he cut his long hair? Soon Saul was twirling her around, the band playing an easy swaying groove that was neither too fast nor too slow, and after a few false starts they sank into the beat and gained a rhythm, circling the floor like pros. Loreena gradually let her brother’s arms guide her to and fro, her feet sliding easily into the memory of their dance lessons together, slow-slow, quick-quick, more than five years ago at the community center in town. She had just started laughing out loud when Crystal cut in.

  “Do you mind?”

  Yes, Loreena wanted to say. It had been so long since she’d had time with her brother, time to laugh and be silly like they used to. She clung to Saul’s hand.

  “I didn’t know you could dance like that,” Crystal said.

  Loreena turned her head toward the girl and felt a moment’s victory. This part of himself her brother hadn’t shared with anyone else. He groaned in protest, but when Crystal kissed him on the cheek with a noisy smack, he relented and led Loreena back to the chair.

  As the couple returned to the dance floor, Loreena wrapped her hands around her drink and took a sip from the straw, wishing she could see them. Did they dance well together? Maybe her uncle was wrong. Maybe Crystal was the reason they hadn’t seen Saul in such a long time. Maybe her brother was in love.

  They were laughing when they came back to the table. Crystal ordered another cocktail. Loreena passed. Two was more than she’d ever had in her life, and she could feel it was time to stop. The band segued into a slow song and the table got quiet. Crystal spoke to Saul in low tones. Loreena squirmed in her chair. They’d been here over an hour, certainly. How long did they plan to stay? It was obvious three was quickly becoming a crowd. She was about to tell Saul he should take her home when a heavy set of boots scuffed to a stop next to their table.

  “Mr. Picket.” The man had a thick tongue, his words heavy with saliva, the smell of chewing tobacco acrid on his breath.

  Saul and Crystal stopped talking.

  “Dirk.” Saul stood up, scraping his chair across the floor behind him. “What are you doing here?”

  The big man stepped closer, his thigh hitting the table. Loreena leaned away. “That your pretty Mustang out there?”

  Saul pulled the keys from his pocket and held them out. “Take her for a spin.”

  “Got my own. Just wondering how you got hold of something like that.”

  Saul pocketed the keys. The band finished their song. The crowd clapped and then fell into a hum of conversation. Loreena swallowed the warm cocktail in her mouth.

  “You got something for me?” Dirk said.

  “Right.” Saul’s voice sounded thin, like a bow across a worn string. “I don’t have it tonight, though. See, I got this deal—”

  Dirk leaned on the table, its legs creaking underneath his weight. “Don’t have it?”

  Saul exhaled. “Partying with my old lady, here, you know.”

  Old lady? Loreena’s mouth twitched. Her hands were sweating, the dimes sticking to her breasts.

  “Where you gonna be tomorrow?” Saul asked. “I’ll bring it, first thing.”

  Dirk straightened and closed in on him, breathing heavily. “I say we go get it now.”

  Her brother replaced his chair. “Sure. Um…”

  The band kicked into another song, the lead singer shouting to the audience to grab their partners.

  “Babe, I love this song!”

  Loreena turned toward Crystal’s voice. Was this her attempt to get Saul away from the man?

  “Find you a girl. Dance with us,” Saul said.

  “Money now. Dance later.”

  “Aw, come on, man. You’re ruining the party. How long since you had some fun?”

  “Give me what you owe me and we’ll have fun all night.”

  Loreena held her breath. This was the trouble her uncle had been talking about. This was what he’d feared, this man standing here by the table like a semi truck. She tucked her fingers inside her dress and scooped out two dimes.

  The drummer kicked in the beat and Saul darted away, barreling past her and knocking an empty chair to the floor.

  “Call Uncle!” he shouted.

  “Wait!”

  But he was already pushing his way through the crowd, his footsteps hard on the wooden floor as he ran toward the door. Loreena tried to follow him, but Dirk shoved her aside and plowed after her brother. She lost her balance and fell into a man seated nearby. The dimes clattered at his feet.

  “Sorry.” Pushing off his chest, she regained her footing and hurried forward, hands out. Like a swarm the other customers closed in around her, walls of people blocking her progress. Her hands touched backs and shoulders and then she remembered and tucked the bare one in, the gloved one still out as she struggled to get through. “Saul!”

  Crystal came up behind her and grabbed her arm. “Dirk’s got him. He’s taking him outside.”

  They ran together, Crystal guiding her until they reached the front of the bar and stepped through the door. Crystal hesitated then, panting, and let go of Loreena’s arm. “The guy is huge,” she said.

  “Who is he?” Loreena asked.

  “One of Frank’s guys.”

  “Who’s Frank?”

  “Saul’s boss.” The girl stood on her tiptoes. “Shit. He’s taking him to the parking lot.”

  Loreena heard footsteps in the distance, Dirk’s heavy ones accompanied by the step and drag of her brother’s trailing behind. “Come on!” She plunged into the shadows. “Saul!”

  “You can’t go after them!” Crystal shouted.

  Loreena whirled around. “Why not?”

  “That man’s a rhinoceros. He’ll flatten you in an instant. Listen, sister. Saul’s on his own.”

  “What are you talking about? Does Saul have the money?”

  “Call your uncle. He’ll come get you.”

  “But—”

  “You hearing me? He’ll flatten you, if you’re lucky. Maybe he’ll decide he wants something else.” Crystal stepped back toward the door. “Saul can hold his own. He’s been in worse.”

  Loreena frowned, alternately turning toward the last place she’d heard her brother’s footsteps and back toward Crystal. “Can you see him?”

  “You’ll only get in the way. Go home, Loreena. Party’s over.” Crystal walked back inside the bar, heels click-clacking until Loreena could no longer differentiate the sound of her steps from all the other noise.

  “Crystal! Wait!” There was no response. The band struck up another tune, the fiddle taking the lead. The sounds of the crowd settled down again—glasses clinking, conversations humming, the occasional bray of laughter jutting out into the night. Loreena waited, unable to believe Crystal would really leave Saul to an unknown fate, but the girl didn’t come back. The chill of the evening made her shiver. She considered the dimes in her shoe, but by the time she found a phone and called it could be too late. She pulled her jacket about her.

  “Saul?”

  A distant thump, off to the left.

  Loreena pushed forward, cursing herself for leaving her cane behind. The music faded the farther she walked, the night air pinching the tips of her ears. The scent of sagebrush came to her on the light breeze. After another five steps she hesitated, unsure if she was still going the right way. Then she heard another thump, and her brother’s low groan. She walked faster, teeth chattering.

  Whack, smack. Something slammed into a car. A wooden bat against a fender. Loreena picked up the pace, nearly jogging now. Something fell hard to the ground, like a sack of sand thrown from the trunk. Running forward, she nearly collided with a c
ar. She had reached the parking lot. More slowly now, she moved between the sedans and the coupes and the trucks, her hands tapping metal and glass, looking for a clear path. Another thump, and then her brother’s voice, closer, lower-pitched this time. He was growing weak. Ducking her head, she plowed forward like a battering ram until she collided into something solid. Her nose hurt and her eyes watered as she flailed backward, landing on her seat. Footsteps. Then someone lifted her from behind, a thick hand pressing against the back of her neck.

  “I’ll get it, goddamn it.” Saul’s words came slow between wheezing breaths, the consonants slurring through swollen lips. “I have a deal. It goes down tomorrow.”

  Loreena struggled in the man’s hold.

  “You had the money weeks ago.” The same husky voice. Dirk, the semi truck. “You decided not to pay the boss. You got yourself a fancy bike, a souped-up car, and a slutty little girlfriend. Thought you’d have yourself a party, didn’t ya? Party on the boss’s money.”

  Saul’s foot scraped through the gravel as he got up. “Shit.”

  Had he just seen her?

  “This your bodyguard?” Dirk shoved Loreena forward. She stumbled, regained her balance, and stood alone, panting, her hair falling loose about her face. “Little strange in the eyes, but nice ass.”

  “Get out of here,” Saul said to her. “I told you to call Uncle.”

  Loreena started toward him, but Dirk grabbed her arm and wrenched it behind her back. Pain seared through her elbow and into her shoulder. “He’s bleeding a little there, on his face,” he said. “You gonna clean it up for him all nice? Get him a little glass of milk?”

  Saul threw something across the space between them. It landed with a whap at Loreena’s feet. His wallet? “Come on, man,” he said. “Take what I got. I’ll have the rest tomorrow.”

  Dirk bent low and picked up the wallet. Loreena heard him sifting through it, his thick fingers ruffling the paper. “Twenty dollars?” he said. “Who the fuck do you think you’re dealing with?” He threw it aside, and her, and then descended on Saul. “Huh? Who the fuck?” Another grunt. Saul’s body thudded back to the ground. “One more chance, Picket. Where’s the rest?”

  Tears streamed down Loreena’s face. Who was this man? How was it possible that he was doing this and no one seemed to care? Sweat soaking her shirt, she got back on her feet.

  Footsteps on the right. Quick ones, like someone had spotted them but was hiding. Behind one of the cars, maybe? Loreena held her breath, listening, but the sound didn’t repeat.

  Saul writhed on the ground, gravel crunching under him.

  “You don’t have the rest, do you?” Dirk said. “Blew it all like a fucking idiot.”

  “Take the car!”

  “You haven’t even paid for it.”

  “You can take it back. I’ve only had it a couple days.”

  Dirk chuckled, a thick-throated sound. “Take it back. You think I’m stupid? What good does that do me?”

  “I’ll get the money. I promise. This deal tomorrow—it’ll come through. I’m telling you.”

  “You had your chance. You lost it. No fools allowed in the club, see?” Dirk slid his hand up under his jacket. Loreena heard the leather brushing against his skin, and then another sound.

  Metal against metal. A hard click.

  Loreena froze. She had never heard a gun cocked in real life, but she knew Dirk had just pulled a pistol on her brother. The entire world vanished except for the sound of that metallic click. Twenty times over she heard it, like an echo in a canyon. A gun. He had a gun. He was pointing it at her brother.

  “Stop it!” Her arm on fire, shoulder askew, she got up and limped toward the sound. Four steps, five, six toward the darkest shadow in front of her. “Leave him alone!”

  Dirk turned and smashed his arm thick as a two-by-four into the side of her head. Reeling, she took two steps and fell to the ground.

  “Loreena, get out of here! I said I’d get it, Dirk! What else you want me to say, man?”

  Dirk stepped closer, his boots flattening stones into the dirt. “You got till the count of five to tell me where it is.”

  The parking lot was still, so still, all the people inside dancing and drinking, the music carrying on as if nothing was happening. “Help!” Loreena called. “Someone! Are you there?” The footsteps. She was sure she had heard them. No one responded.

  “Shut up, bitch!” Dirk said.

  Loreena heard him turn toward her. She closed her mouth, picturing the gun now pointed at her face. When he turned back around, she poked her fingers into her right shoe. The dimes were gone. It didn’t matter. The only phone was back in the bar.

  Dirk started counting.

  He was going to do it. He was going to shoot Saul.

  By two, Loreena had pulled off her other glove. By three, she was on her feet. In spite of the pain rippling through her, she threw herself at Dirk, tearing at his coat until she found his left arm and grabbed it. Dirk yanked back, cuffing her in the head with his elbow, but she gritted her teeth and held on, letting her hand slide down until she felt the skin of his palm against hers. All her strength went into her grip, fingers curling around the thick knuckles. She locked her left hand over the top, securing Dirk’s mighty paw in her grasp.

  He tried to strike her with the gun, but she was too close and he was off balance. The pistol clattered to the ground. He stumbled back and Loreena went with him, dragging along like a log tied to a workhorse. Three steps later, Dirk fell to his knees, and then dropped forward to land on his shoulder. Loreena came to rest next to him, facing him, gravel stones digging into her ear.

  The world fell away.

  4

  The wind brought Loreena back to consciousness, blowing hard in her face as if she were back in the Mustang. Everything was heavy with the smell of tobacco. She blinked her eyes and light crept into her vision—pale at first, and then a brighter white. The sound of an engine broke through the whistling wind, the gears shifting quickly, like a dragonfly buzzing, up in pitch and then down and then down again. She recognized the hum of a motorcycle.

  The fogginess cleared and she looked down. Her thighs cradled a black leather seat, her bare hands on Dirk’s waist. He revved the engine and charged forward, looking back with wide eyes as if he feared being followed. Her sight returned to her, Loreena could see him: his black leather vest, the wide belt, black jeans, and greasy dark hair. He had lots of it, cascading in waves over his ears. His shoulders were massive, thick as railroad ties, his short neck disappearing into the collar of his western shirt. On his left wrist he wore a silver stretch-band watch and a black onyx ring, his hands rough as brick and cinnamon brown, dried blood staining the knuckles.

  Saul’s blood?

  Gradually, the road came into view, black asphalt minus the yellow stripes. The bike rolled along easily, the engine noise swept behind them, the wind fierce in their ears. Beyond the road there was little to see in the dim light, though from what she could tell the land seemed bare as a desert, with only the occasional bush or fence post interrupting the shadows. Loreena looked over Dirk’s shoulder, seeking a light up ahead, an end to the road, a shelter, something, but there was nothing. Black asphalt, black sky, black road.

  Where were they going?

  Dirk looked back, a thick moustache covering his lip, his nose swollen as a garlic bulb. His brown eyes widened and his cheeks went white.

  Loreena turned to see what he saw.

  Twisted faces met her gaze, with bulging, red-rimmed eyes, elephant-skin wrinkles, sharp fangs protruding from the mouths, but no noses, only sickly, pasty flesh where they should have been. Like demons they ran after the bike, ostrich-long legs propelling them forward, short arms curled up into their chests, mouths open for breath and for movement of the teeth, which were too large to fit behind closed lips. Loreena counted at least seven of them.

  Dirk pushed the bike faster, but there was no change in the road, no hope for escape. On and on it
went with no hint of an intersection, no lake or town or house ahead. Now and then the road veered one way or the other, and he would look behind, hoping to have gained some ground on the beasts, but always they came, running, tongues lolling about their chins, fangs gleaming in the white light from somewhere overhead.

  Loreena shuddered. This was different. Different even from the rich man’s nightmare. The darkness was the same, and the unending path into the distance, but the demons, the demons were new, and allowed them no rest, no stopping to reevaluate their direction. She tried to clear her mind. He’d had a gun. He was going to shoot her brother. She had stopped him. But where were they now?

  Running from these demons. The motorcycle seemed an endless source of power, and she thought then it probably didn’t need gasoline, but would continue to run as long as Dirk continued to ride it. There would be no stopping. Dirk would drive the bike on and on, seeking escape for days, months, or longer. Who knew how time operated here?

  She had to get off.

  Overhead, a weak spotlight shone on the bike as if beamed from a helicopter, following them as they drove along, shining just enough so she could make out Dirk’s features and those of the demons who got close, but no more. Dirk should just stop, she thought then, and let the demons overtake them. Would they really have the power to kill?

  Kill.

  The word entered her mind as if she’d been sleeping and had just woken up. This wasn’t a religious ritual. Dirk had no terminal illness he wished to escape. He hadn’t asked for an end to his life. She was at the bar, with Saul, in the parking lot—and yes, Dirk had threatened her brother’s life, and she’d had no choice but to act, or right now Saul could be dead of a bullet wound. As it was, her brother was alive, but now…

  What was she doing?

  “Dirk!” she yelled into his ear. “You have to stop!”

  He turned, but his gaze connected with hers for only a second before one of the demons attacked, its fangs gnashing dangerously close to Dirk’s head. Ducking, he pulled the throttle and the bike lurched forward.