by E A Lake
"Don't be a downer, Quinn," my mother replied with a smile. "Tim is so well loved that there'll be plenty of people just wanting to jump on in and help. He's very persuasive."
"And a helluva lover too," Audra added from across the table. All eyes fell on her and she shot us a coy smile. "I'm just saying."
"Ronnie told me there could be spies for Shaklin everywhere," Sasha added with a lovely, hysterical tone. "I wonder how long they've been watching us and what they've seen."
"Too long and very little," I replied, pushing my plate aside. "We're not making a lot of progress here, people. And our deadline looms large. The only good thing that happened today is that Petri reported that Lucas said we could assemble our troops, small as they may be..." I glared at my father for a brief moment, "...down by Farmersburg. Although he did say the mayor got a good laugh out of it, no doubt at my expense. I wonder what that evil witch will add onto my chore list for this privilege."
"Ava Fry would like us to come over for dinner the night before we leave," Morgan said as though it were usual dinner conversation. "Said we needed a proper sendoff."
"Ask if she can plan the potluck for our funerals when we're there," I shot back. Ava was a good cook and made enough food to feed an army; and that was just for a usual family dinner.
"Do you think people have been watching me bathe?" Sasha asked, which made Sara snort and blow water out her nose. "I just feel all dirty now. This is just awful; I don't know how I'm going to be able to fall asleep tonight."
"No one's watching you bathe, Sasha!" Morgan shouted, pounding the table. "Get that through that thick skull of yours that no one cares what we're doing here. And like Quinn said, we aren't getting much accomplished. So what the hell is there to see?"
Sasha's face reddened and she began to fidget with her water glass. "I just don't–"
"Wait," I interrupted. "Even if Shaklin's people are watching us, they're not seeing shit. We haven't assembled an army, we aren't doing any target practice, just as many people have left as have come lately. Well, the 40-some extra people arriving was something, but that's not going to worry Shaklin."
"Like I said," Morgan tried to add before I cut her off.
"Not only is he in the dark about what we're up to, but when we show up and tell him there are a thousand people a mile behind us, he'll have no idea. If we can just get a bunch of people and spread them wide, he may give in before we have to show our hand."
My father wiped his mouth with his napkin and picked at something in his teeth. "I like my idea better, son. I don't see how he's going to want to shoot a large group of worshipers in prayer before him."
I nodded at Ed and for the first time all day, I felt a genuine smile spread on my face. "This might work. This just might work. Prayers and all."
CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED TWO
I awoke the next morning in a great mood. By the time I'd had breakfast and brushed my teeth, I was whistling a happy tune. I couldn't recall the name of the song, but I remembered it from years back and thinking of it always made me happy.
I kissed both my wife and mother before I left for the office and even gave Ed a hearty yes when he asked to tag along. Nothing was going to spoil my day; not one single thing.
"Mind sharing what's got such a 180 in your attitude this morning, son?" my father asked. "You were mostly like a grizzly bear last night at dinner. Then right before you went to bed, you seemed deep in thought. Now today you're pretty happy. Did you find the Lord last night?"
"Good try, padre," I laughed. That got a grin from the old fart. "I figured out that we may actually be ahead of the ball here; we may actually have the upper hand on Shaklin for once."
"You already told me that," he replied dryly. "And I think you're being a little prideful, son. Pride goeth before destruction, to quote Proverbs 16:18. I'd be a little careful with my thinking if I were you."
Thankfully, he wasn't. Me that is. As for his biblical reference...blah, blah, blah.
I stopped abruptly when a strange smell struck me. I sniffed the air several times, rotating slowly to try and get a better handle on the odor.
"You smell that?" I asked.
My father shook his head, barely giving the crisp morning air a whiff.
"I think it smells like smoke," I continued.
"Lots of people burning wood to heat their houses, I suppose. It's a little cooler this morning. Fall is really settling in the last few days." Ed shoved his hands in his pockets to prove his point.
But the smell was heavier than just a regular fire from a wood stove or heater. Scanning the air above the surrounding homes, I didn't find anything out of place. Perhaps my father was right, though I'd never admit it out loud.
"Tim will be back today, right?" I asked, changing the subject to something more pertinent. We did have a deadline looming large over our collective heads.
He nodded as we turned the last corner that would lead us to the office. "I expect him sometime later this morning. And I'm sure he understood the urgency of the situation now and I know you'll be happy with his results."
We'd see about that. At first, I'd been promised 2,000 people; then it changed to 1,000. All we had as of that day was 50. I guess anything more than that was better.
"I sure hope –" My words stopped when I saw people scurrying about on the street in front of the office. Something was wrong. Petri came sprinting my direction when he saw me.
"Fire!" he shouted. "Chloe Willobea's place is on fire, Sheriff!"
CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED THREE
Petri and I raced to the far east end of town where Chloe's place sat. Even before we turned the last corner the acrid smoke stung our noses and made my eyes water. When we were within sight of the home, I saw flames licking high into the morning sky.
There was nothing we could do to stop it. And that made me sick as I stared opened-mouthed at the inferno.
"Get the dogs out of their pen," Ronnie cried as he joined the scene. "Someone help me try and coral them so not too many run off."
Petri and Art joined Ronnie along with a few neighbors and circled the house. I stood motionless with a few neighbors who had shown up and were gazing open-mouthed at the house as the fire took hold. With the dry lumber and no water supply to douse the flames, the place would be reduced to ashes within a half hour, an hour at most.
I wondered what had set off the blaze. As far as I knew, no one had been tending fires inside, keeping the place warm for Chloe and Avellyn's alleged return. Likewise, I didn't think there had been any candles or lanterns keeping the place lit. It was so strange.
Ronnie and his small group returned moments later. It was odd. I hadn't heard any growling or barking, though the crackling fire was louder than I had expected it to be...remembered it to be.
When he got next to me, Ronnie shook his head and kept his gaze fixed in the dirt.
"Well?" I asked, swallowing hard, awaiting his answer.
"They're all dead, Quinn," he replied softly, almost in tears. "Every last one of them, dead."
Shit, the fire had spread too quickly and claimed victims.
"Burned up pretty bad, I suppose," I murmured.
He didn't answer right away and that concerned me. "Nope." His pause concerned me even more. "They're in their pen, all laying there dead. Looks like they were puking for a while. There's shit everywhere."
Art approached with a sad look on his face and something ugly in his hand. When he extended the mess my direction, I felt myself gag.
"What the hell is that?" I asked, pointing at the red gooey substance. To me it looked like some sort of ground meat with long white maggots intermixed.
"Ground horse, if I had to guess," Art replied frankly.
"What's the white stuff?"
He looked at me sideways. "If I had to guess, rat poison. But that's just a guess."
Something was amiss. The whole situation stunk like three-day-old road kill.
"Find me that neighbor who’s been feeding the dogs
," I growled, turning to head back to the office. "Bring him downtown so we can talk, away from this shit show."
"You don't think Harley Pickert had anything to do with this?" Art asked. "He's a nice fellow, Sheriff. That wouldn't be like him."
I didn't answer because I didn't have a clue of what was going on, but I bet Harley would help my understanding clear up a little.
CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED FOUR
Harley stood in front of my desk with hat in hand, beseeching me to listen. Thus far, all he had done was whined about the fire. That bothered me a little.
"Harley, I know the fire is kind of close to your place," I replied, trying to get him settled down a little. "I've assigned some people to watch it and make sure it doesn't spread. But I need to ask you a couple of questions while they're fresh on my mind."
He nodded and I took it to mean he would listen.
"Did you feed those dogs last night?" I asked, watching his face for any signs of deceit.
"Of course I fed them," he barked. "Fed and watered them just after supper last night like I always do. Even took my youngest with me to help. You can ask him that. But I didn't start that fire, Quinn."
Funny, I hadn't asked about the source of the fire.
"Did you check on them this morning, the dogs that is?"
He rolled his eyes and I could tell he was growing irritated. "Not this morning. I don't every morning. If they're not barking, I figure why go stir them up."
"So you saw them alive last night then, after dinner time." The immediate look of confusion told me Harley had nothing to do with the dogs' death.
"Of course they were alive, just like always. Though they didn't take to their food like they usually do. Jiminy Christmas, most time I go in there with food, I feel like I'm getting mauled." He cocked his head a little to the right. "Why'd you ask me if they were alive? They get burned up?"
I sat back in my chair, frowning. He had nothing to do with what had happened.
"No, they didn't burn up," I replied sadly. "They were poisoned."
"What!?" he shouted. "What the hell you mean poisoned?"
"Yesterday sometime," I mumbled. "Probably after dark and probably right before you fed them."
"Who would do such a sick thing?" Harley howled. "What kind of a monster poisons dogs and burns down a house? I'm telling you, Quinn, this is a mad world we're living in. Full of sick, disgusting people."
It struck me hard, the answer did. Talk about payback in a grandiose way.
"Tony Shaklin did it," I answered quietly, biting the inside of my cheek and shaking my head. "It was Tony."
I looked up and found Harley staring at me with a twisted face. "Why would he do something like that?"
I laughed so as not to cry. Letting my head fall backwards, I let out a low moan.
"Because as he always said," I replied. "Payback's a bitch."
"But the vengeance of the Lord," Ed cried out as he entered the office, "will rain down on him and his tenfold. He has sinned in front of God and man and he will be brought to justice in the eyes of the Lord."
Good God; it was neither the time nor the place for any of Ed's church crap. I had a real problem, real problems. And I couldn't wait for eternity to get them solved.
"How about we slow down on the God shit for a while Ed?" I requested as politely as possible, which I suppose wasn't very polite at all. "Tony Shaklin just sent a huge reminder to us that he still has the upper hand and wants his property back."
"A God-centered life brings you peace, son," he replied, more cheery than I’d expected. And he hadn't even mentioned my profanity. "Shaklin can burn down every house in town and I'd still feel God's love all around me. I'm so positive that we'll win this battle that there is nothing that can shake my faith."
I glanced back at Harley and shrugged. I mean, how was a man supposed to respond to someone who'd taken his full dose of goofy pills for the day?
"You'd better have some positive news for me real soon," I said, standing and leading Harley past Ed, to the office door. "It's getting late and our time on Earth is getting mighty short without enough people."
"Faith, son," Ed replied, pointing upward. "We all must have faith."
Sure, as long as it brought us an army, I'd pretend to have all the faith Ed required, and then some.
CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED FIVE
A short while later, Ed, Tom and Tim stood at the far end of the building where the latter had tied his horse upon his return. As I watched from the doorway, I could hear them speak to one another in low voices. Ed and Tom nodded several times as Tim mumbled whatever news he had for them.
The meeting ended with a brief prayer – “Amen, brother” – and another short discussion. I was a little surprised when Tim remounted his horse and rode off. Maybe he was going to lead his flock to their gathering spot in Farmersburg. Perhaps there were so many who had volunteered that he needed to help round up provisions for the large swell of folks.
Or maybe he had to go feed his pet unicorn. The options were limitless and most of them were awful.
"How many, Ed?" I called out as he and Tom approached. "No bullshit; how many?"
His weathered face showed no emotion; that was a bad sign. But I had to admit that his posture, his shoulders straight and square and his head held high, gave me a glimmer of hope.
"There will be help, son," he replied as the pair stopped before me.
"Just tell me how many. I'd like to start saying my goodbyes today if I know I'm going to die in another couple days."
"Faith, son. A man–"
"How many, damnit?!" I shouted. "I'm sick of your lies and your shit and your inability to come through after I've done everything you've asked. So for the love of your God, how many damned people did Tim round up?"
Ed's lips twisted as he glanced at Tom. The other man took his hat off and shot me the same tense expression.
"A little south of 300," Tom replied in a soft but clear voice.
I thought hard for a moment; maybe we could make this work. Three hundred plus the 50 we already had and maybe I could help gather up a few more and we'd be close to 400. That was the minimum, in my mind, we needed to get Shaklin's attention.
"So, if my numbers are correct," I replied, "with any luck we may be close to 400 people, right?"
Neither Ed nor Tom nodded any agreement. Instead, they shared a tight look and I focused on Tom more than my father.
"Just south of 300 means what we have already plus the 200 or so Tim was able to round up," he said in a defeated tone. "Sorry, but that's about the best we can do at this time."
I glared sternly at Tom before I let me gaze float to Ed. "That's not enough. You told me there would be more."
For a second, he gave me the expression of a busted man, a person who'd knowingly told lies to get his way. But then he shuffled in his spot and I saw his chin come up.
"I have one last card to play yet," he boasted.
"I don't believe you."
He nodded slightly. "I do. It's a long shot and I can't promise anything, but Tim will try his best. I've pulled out all the stops. Keep the faith, son. Don't give up on God."
I sighed, turned and walked away. There was nothing left to say. Ed's empty promises had left us in a bad place. Instead of putting my faith in one more, I decided we needed a new plan. What exactly that would be, I had no idea.
CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED SIX
Morgan listened as I told her my latest tale of woe. While I expected her to be more concerned than she appeared, it was nice when she gave me a small smile and a hug.
"We're going to win this battle, sweetie," she whispered just before settling a nice little kiss on my lips. "I don't know how yet, but I can just feel it."
She let me go and I began to pace. "We have 300 people. Now while that's better than 100, or even 200, it's not enough. And that's because they'll have guns and we won't."
Crossing her arms, Morgan raised her right hand to her chin. "You know, maybe the solut
ion is as simple as Shaklin won't slaughter 300 people. Maybe he can't take the chance of people finding out just how cruel he really is. Everyone in the area knows what's going on. If we all get killed...well, that might cause a revolution in his mind maybe."
That was a good point, a very good point. Morgan had actually put a positive spin on something that looked so dark and gloomy in my eyes. But there were still other issues.
"I can't see him handing over the women he has without some type of motivation," I countered. "And what's to keep him from just taking Charolette? I mean, she's going to be sitting there right in front of him and we really don't have a way to stop him."
Morgan tried to smile but failed miserably. "I guess we have to have faith, Quinn. We're just going to have to believe what your father has been saying. We need to put our trust in–"
"DON’T say it!"
"God's hands," she finished. "There has to be a solution here. And I have to believe this is going to all work out."
I stared at her for a minute, biting my lower lip. "Aren't you worried about going back there, maybe for good?"
Rotating her head to the left, she gazed out the front window at the cloudy October sky. When she looked back at me, tears streaked her face.
"Yes, I am," she replied solemnly. "I don't want to be apart from you ever again. I want to live here, free. I want to grow old and be buried with you in the west cemetery. Tony Shaklin is going to kill me if he gets his hands on me again. If not him, then Carla will delight in torturing me."
She wiped away the tears with the butt of her hand.
"But I'm not afraid to do what's right and stand up to a monster," she continued, a little more upbeat. "I'm not giving up Charolette without a fight. Same goes for Belinda, and Chloe, and Avellyn. So, I really believe there's a solution out there, just waiting for us to find it."