Roberts surveyed the modest cabin and said, “I should’ve just went back to Chicago.”
Hux eyed him as the door closed. “And to tell them what?”
“A giant boar is terrorizing a drug stop off point, so don’t fret that delivery that never was paid for.”
“Yer a riot.”
Roberts sat on the worn out couch and said, “Not sure what I am at this point. I saw it plain as possible, that thing, so inhuman. I’ll carry that with me forever. Still, it doesn’t absolve me of my duty to my employers. I will have to call.”
Hux nodded. “It was big Ed that screwed ya all. Tell them that. But he died in the bar. This will be big news soon. I don’t know how the Mayor will spin it all, but this many people dying bad can’t be covered up for long. Even your bosses will know something bad happened in Miller’s Fork.”
Roberts gawked at the stark walls then his eyes went back to his shaking hands. “Not high on decorations, Mr. Huxtable.”
“The maid is out,” he joked. “I’m not big on furnishings as this is just a spot to recharge or get laid when I have tail I don’t wanna take home. There is a generator out back for the water, but there is surely a flush in the shitter if ya need to use it.”
“Thanks.”
“I gotta sleep, man.”
“How can you with all you’ve seen?”
Hux shrugged. “Don’t know, rightly. I’ll lie down and see.”
***
Douglas White went home for a quick shower and breakfast. Before getting under the water, he opened a small pint of Jack Daniels and drank most of it. Once the water hit his face, his body tingled. The words of Big Ed came back to him.
They sat in the Green Parrot and talked only a few hours ago. Big Ed sat on his throne, the heavy leather seat he held court in every night. Ed ruled one last time, as he sat there, barely alive, missing most of his left leg, bleeding to death…no matter how well it got cinched off by the men who found them all. Amazed he lived, Doug heard his story…and even his confession before he died. Doug had known Ed for years and often covered for the big man. Ed was a good egg in general, but never did he realize the things Ed knew…and passed on at the moment of his death. The lapsed Catholic made a bid for paradise before he died on his throne. Ed held a pig sticker and stroked it like a rosary. The weapon wasn’t even bloody. Doug assumed this action was for what could’ve been.
As he dried his hair, Doug thought of how Ed sat there, ashamed of his sins, but proud of his death. He wanted Doug to tell his sons that their daddy died fighting, not “running like a bitch like Hux” as he put it.
Doug would tell them. He’d also find a way to crush Hux and his drug line. More plans came to his mind, like how to hang Mayor Sullivan and his connections to Hux, offered up by the dying biker lord.
He thought of his brother. Doug worried about his nephew and hoped the experience didn’t damage little Jordan. Though the boy seemed resilient, it would be illogical to assume seeing such things wouldn’t bother him down the road.
Unsure of how the day would go, Doug put his hands over his face. He didn’t pray. He seldom did, but thought of getting religious again, soon. His thoughts were on his sons and the other children of Miller’s Fork. What could he do to protect them? Though tired, he had to give it his all.
“How corny,” he said to himself as he mused over his task and could find no path that provided him comfort. Though he didn’t know what to do exactly, he’d do as he always did: Follow the straight path and make it work.
After coffee and some ham, he really wanted another drink of whiskey. His wife made him a thermos of coffee and tried to console him. He really wanted a second shot of whiskey. Doug resisted. The day was just starting and he had no sleep.
When he touched the breast pocket of his fresh shirt, he found his toothpicks and a single cigarette. He felt like a felon for lifting it from Tyler’s ear. He didn’t smoke it, but never discarded it, either.
Something told him it would be a longer day than the previous one.
***
Once the morning came, Mr. Solow opened his back door.
The figure of Elias was all that his eyes focused on, standing in his work clothes on the sidewalk.
“Morning, Elias,” Mr. Solow said dryly.
“Mornin’, sir.”
“What do you have to say this fine day?”
Elias looked back at the long barns and said, “I do believe Ms. Rhonda due to have her calf, sir.”
Solow nodded. “She’s past due. Let’s go see, shall we?”
“Yes sir.”
“Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”
Elias nodded. “Great day to be alive, sir.”
CHAPTER TEN Endings
Andrew was glad Jordan went to playing video games in the morning and didn’t seem upset about the previous evening. He was more excited about staying home from school. Andrew called in to work and used up another personal day. Again, the life of his boy mattered more than their numbers. The world seemed clearer now since he made this choice. His stomach turned a bit at Carol Brandt’s attitude on the phone, but part of her bad nature made it easier not to care about work.
Lynne was dressed in a tan suit, beautiful as ever and said to him, “I’ll take Kenny to daycare as it would be better if it was more one on one time with Jordan today.”
Andrew agreed and gazed at his younger son, crashing toy trains into his farm play set.
“Old Macdonald had a farm…” Kenny chirped, speaking so clearly for a two year old.
Lynne armed up her purse and a leather computer bag before requesting, “Put his shoes on, will you? I’ll take this to the car.”
As she departed and Andrew scooped up Kenny to put his shoes on, the boy said, “With an oink, oink, here and an oink, oink there…”
After they left, Andrew labored to stop his hands from shaking. He did a lousy job. His eyes focused on the farm set and the playhouse nearby it. All of the pigs sat at the dinner table in the house. On the cutting block lay the farmer on his side.
Not sure what psychological damage was done to his older son, or if, per his mother’s words, the White family even got psychological damage, he drank more coffee. His hands leveled out in a few minutes.
Andrew grabbed the phone, went upstairs and talked to Lucas about Cassidy. As it turned out, she was reacting the same way as Jordan.
“I’d love to ask him about it more,” Andrew said with caution to his friend. “But I don’t wanna screw him up, you know?”
Lucas agreed. “Yeah. Cassidy never mentioned it, but is shying away from the TV and weird animal shows this morning.”
Andrew considered the centaurs and bizarre creatures in modern cartoons. “Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. Jordan is having no trouble destroying aliens on the video games, though.”
They shared a weak laugh and farewells.
After unlocking the attic, Andrew ducked his head and walked into his storage room. This place was a menagerie of old artifacts: Cases with broken weapons, boxes with uniforms and several battlefield flags Lynne wouldn’t let him display in the front room. Since the tight asses in town narked him out and the BATF paid him a visit, Andrew watched where he kept his hoard of weapons. Though his illegal cache was at the cemetery, he kept several hunting rifles and old collector’s items here.
He sank to his knees, surrounded by hours of obsession and the fruits of his hobby. “Is it all worth it?” He wondered aloud, considering the tattered nazi flags, Japanese sabers, Confederate uniforms and medals under glass. “Spent so much time chasing this stuff to keep it under wraps, what a laugh in the end.” He thought of his wife’s admonition that he needed to expend more time with his kids than echoes of dead men.
Andrew wrote it off to a leisure pursuit, one that increased as he was demoted at work. He filled his angst over failure in life with guns, with methods of death dealing. Why? Did it make him feel like more of a man? Like it could get him farther? He didn’t want to k
now the answer.
“What good were they when I needed them?” He said, thinking of how he almost lost his son and not all of these weapons, locked up here, made a damn bit of difference. He could sell them all and not buy his son’s life back.
“Dad?” Jordan said from the hallway.
“Yeah?”
“Who are ya talking to?”
Andrew held up the cell phone. “Lucas up the road.”
Jordan nodded.
Though he thought it a nice save, Andrew turned to him and said, “How are you doing?”
“Okay,” Jordan said simply. “Can we go to the video store later?”
“Sure,” Andrew answered, hands folded.
“Dad, do you think they will catch that thing?”
“I reckon so. I hear the choppers out and from what Doug text messaged me, the countryside is crawling with cops. He’s bound to turn up somewhere, whoever he is.”
As they walked down the steps, Andrew dreaded the meeting with the DCFS advisors later on. Already, his wife called with word from them that Jordan and Cassidy should be evaluated. Granted, that was just logical, considering their experience. Still, he hated interference in his life from any government agency or service. Since his experience in the military and further bouts with public officials, Andrew’s attitude worsened over time.
The phone rang and Andrew gave it an irritated look. “Work?” he muttered, reading the caller ID. “Yeah?”
“Mr. White,” came the voice of the shift coordinator Carol Brandt. “Mr. Sullivan wants to see you in his office, as soon as possible.”
“Doesn’t he know what happened to my family last…”
“He has to see you this morning, Mr. White,” her curt voice cut him off. “Bring your badge with you.”
The line went dead and Andrew’s heart sank.
“Great. The hits keep coming.”
Jordan asked, “What is it?”
“I gotta go check in at work about something. You’ll probably have to stay at your grammas for a bit.”
They left the attic and Andrew felt his gut turn. Badge. They wanted his security badge. Not that they couldn’t deactivate it. It was that bitch in the office’s way of letting him know he was fired.
At that point, he had a hard time giving a damn.
***
Doug really didn’t want to go to Luella’s when he got the call from the county cop on patrol. When Matt never responded to his radio or his cell phone, Doug considered retirement or at least, driving towards Indiana. The feeling of dread in his body grew the closer he drove to the edge of the Solow farm.
Though the area where the bikers met their slaughter at Elias’ trailer appeared cleaned up for the most part, a new crime scene existed nearby. Doug was slow to get out of his cruiser, seeing parts of his friend, Matt, all over the deck. When he saw the leather boots standing side by side, one with a shinbone protruding from it, Doug looked away fast and spit the toothpick from his mouth.
“God,” a big county cop with reddish hair said to Doug, holding a handkerchief over his mouth. “Something was pissed.”
Doug eyed the man, recognizing Kent Gowran from the early shift. “Something not someone?”
Gowran gestured with the handkerchief, his pale skin turning pink. “No man did that. Look yourself. Matt got ripped apart.
Tears rose to Doug’s eyes as he thought about Matt, small town Lothario…how many of the girls in town would lament his passing. All of his casual charm and enormous penis couldn’t stay the hand of fate, though. Pieces of his friend littered the deck, mostly in a haphazard manner. The boots setting together made him pause again. That tiny bit of order in the bloody chaos disturbed him.
“Matt, you poor bastard,” Doug said as he stared Matt in the eye. The head of the police officer stared blankly back from Luella’s bench. Gravity pulled blood from the head, turning Matt’s face a pallid white under the beam of the light. Both of Matt’s arms and one of his thighs lay on the deck. His right hand still held a gun, finger on the trigger.
“Rest of him is inside,” Gowran told Doug, sour look on his face.
The Sheriff pointed down and said, “Get someone on these tracks. This fucker isn’t human.” He didn’t want to focus on the hooved prints in Matt’s blood. He didn’t want to see any more. Doug really didn’t want to see the fat lady flailed open, either. “Luella inside?”
Gowran shook his head. “She’s not here.” He appeared relieved by these words.
Doug shared his empty happiness if only for the break in the gore.
The sheriff stepped inside the trailer and looked around a bit for himself. It didn’t take long to check the small dwelling. He thought the hallway that connected the rooms was interesting. On the paneled walls hung portraits of John Wayne, Jimmy Stewart, Hank Williams Sr. and Gene Autry. Doug wondered who the pictures were for.
He returned outside and reached for another toothpick in his breast pocket. “What about her dog? This blood all came from Matt?”
“No sign of him, either.”
“Huh,” he said and knelt by the hand to see if Matt had discharged his weapon. “Isn’t that odd?”
***
Stunned that his cell phone rang, Hux almost pissed himself on the bed. Glad he didn’t he answered the phone. Head back on the pillow, he almost jumped out of his skin as Roberts stood at his door.
“Who was that?”
“Sheriff. He needs to speak to me, he says.” Roberts leaned on the doorframe and nodded.
“Concerning what?”
Hux admitted, “Not sure, but he didn’t sound awful pissy. He ain’t got snot on me, so no pressure.”
Roberts lobbed him the keys to his car, then returned to the couch as Hux got up and went to the door.
“I’ll bring us back some lunch, ok?”
Roberts never acknowledged him as Hux moved and grabbed his leather jacket. He lay on the couch and closed his eyes.
Hux went out back and took a leak before he walked to the boat. Once in the boat moving across the quarry, Hux thought about killing Roberts again. What would one more body in the county matter? Hux remained unsure of that. Still, he held hope that everything could go back to the way it was before this monster came into their midst. He wanted things to go back to the way they were…him nailing dumb chicks, rebuilding engines, screwing off at work and being a conduit for the dope trade. The cash he’d squirreled away at banks out of state returned to his mind…for they were his eventual escape routes when he knew life in Miller’s Fork got too hot.
He killed the engine near the edge and thought of his bike. He so wanted his Harley again. It was always his path to freedom and tranquility
Hux then hatched a plan to go get his bike and hit his locker at work. Screw them for he wouldn’t be working today. In his locker, he kept some droplets that would easily take care of Mr. Roberts. He didn’t want to go home. Certain his bike was out beside the Green Parrot, he headed toward there in the dope dealers car. Positive the cops had better things to do last night than impound his ride, he smiled at the idea.
Hux wanted to ride again, he wanted to feel free once more.
***
When Doug heard the inhuman wail across the Solow property, he grabbed his gun and headed to his car. He called in back up as he raced around to the main entrance. Officer Gowran had Doug’s back as they pulled into Solow’s drive. Gowran showed no fear as he emerged from his car with a shotgun and Doug kept his weapon drawn as he stood. In the air was a low wail, coming from the cow barns.
The screams from the barn door echoed awfully, but Doug shook his head at Gowran. “Back me up.”
The door to the back barn was slid open. Doug saw a rope knotted around the rusted metal grip on the door. His eyes followed the rope into the barn and to the original point of the scream that wasn’t human.
“Jesus wept,” Gowran said, grabbing his stomach.
Doug pushed his hat back as he saw Elias, hand on the rope, that termin
ated around the leg of a calf, partially hanging out of its wailing mother. Solow worked at the point of birth, trying to extract the calf and failing.
“Douglas,” Solow shouted when he spotted him. “Help us, for the love of God. Open the door further.”
Doug blinked and then focused on the sliding door with some horror. Again, he followed the line of the rope and saw the half born calf struggle. The wails of the cow nearly drowned out Solow’s repeated pleas. Doug returned his gun to its holster and flexed his fingers just before he grabbed the door. He sent Gowran an unsure glance and riveted to the task assigned. Unsure how much weight to apply, so as not to pull the calves’ leg out of joint, he used all of his weight, but only made the door inch at a slow clip. When he encountered resistance, he pushed harder and suddenly, the door moved fast. The calf pulled free, bag around it billowing and the cow bleated on. Solow and Elias were laughing, happy the birth was over.
As Elias covered and cleaned up the calf, Solow tended his cow, saying, “Thanks, Douglas.”
While he rubbed his hands on his pants, Doug watched Gowran wander away, then lean over. The big Irishman never went sick, though.
Doug said, “Now I know why dairy farming wasn’t for me.”
As if nothing major happened, Solow tried to get his breath and asked, “What brings you over here, son? Ms. Rhonda appreciates your help.”
Doug told the tale of Matt’s death and how Luella was gone. This greatly upset Elias, who almost ran out from the barn. Solow told him to stop. Elias hesitated.
“She can’t walk too far,” Elias said, worry in his voice.
“Crews are coming to search, Elias,” Doug promised him.
Still, he wiped at the calf as he said, “I need to go see for myself.”
Solow nodded and after Elias finished, he departed them in a hurry.
“This has been a terrible night,” Solow lamented, Gowran nodding behind him at his words.
Doug agreed. “Yep. I’ve had better, sir. I think I may be able to shake a few things out of one of the bikers that got away from this thing or guy we are looking for.”
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