The Dark Trail

by Will Mosley

  He stepped over the creek bed on his way back to the gravel area and saw that Tatem and Guillermo were now outside talking. He walked up and thought of joining them but, Tatem was in rare form and didn't pause his stream of chatter to speak to him. Tatem tossed a hand up to Jacob, and Jacob returned the wave.

  “...and I mean, hot! A fox! Sexy, blond, and those lips! My god, those lips! You may not think so, but I think she's a knock out.” Tatem said.

  “Kinda too thin for me.” Guillermo said. “I like'em with a bit more meat. She's alright, I guess.”

  “Alright? You need your vision checked.”

  “I'm not saying I wouldn't do her.”

  “Are you now?” Tatem gave Guillermo a patronizing look.

  “Come on, Tatem. Of course I would screw her brains out. I just like'em... more thicker. That's just me, though.” Guillermo looked at Jacob holding his gaze, trying to escape the conversation.

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot. You're a damned Mexican. You boys like'em thick down there.”

  “Born here, Tatem. I ain't never been to Mexico. I just know what I like.” Guillermo turned from Tatem again, to Jacob. “Where you been at, boy? Trying to quit?” Tatem laughed.

  “Nah. Just getting my mind right. Taking in some cool air.” Then Jacob inhaled deeply as a gesture that he indeed did know how to breathe, then he grimaced, slumped over and clutched is side. Though it felt as if something were dissolving his kidneys, coursing through him, eventually settling somewhere within his intestinal maze, in an instant, his hand was away from his side and he was upright, but the grimace remained on his face. Guillermo reacted, reaching for him, but was not in time. Instead, Guillermo placed a firm hand on Jacob's shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Fine. I'm fine.” Jacob said, wrapping his words around grunts and forcing them through clenched teeth.

  “You don't look fine.” Tatem said. “You look pale. We should tell Joe and –,”

  “No, damn it! I'm fine.” As suddenly as it had struck, the pain eased. Jacob cautiously exhaled, fearing a second round with the pain, leaned over with his hands on his knees and sucked up several mouthfuls of air. “It's gone now. It was just a little pain. That's all.”

  “Jacob, man, I think we ought to let Joe know about this. It might be important.”

  “Guillermo, listen,” Jacob wheezed and grabbed Guillermo's hand. “I'm fine, buddy, besides,” He stood up, and stretched his back. “I'm starting to see what Tatem was saying.”

  “What?” Tatem asked. “What did I say?”

  “You know – the things you were talking about yesterday.”

  “Not you, Jacob.” Guillermo rolled his eyes. “You got questions too, huh?”

  “Not as many as Tatem, but one.” Jacob took his hand from his knee and pointed back towards the woods. “There aren't any bears around here.”

  “So?” Guillermo said sharply.

  “Bears?” Tatem asked.

  “Joe and Billy have those guns, remember?” He pointed to Tatem. “You wanted to know why. They said the guns were to protect them, and us presumably, from bears.”

  “I don't remember any of that.” Tatem said.

  “Me either, Tatem.” Guillermo said and crossed his arms. “I think somebody might have mentioned it. Hell, we might've heard it on TV.”

  “Damn it, guys!” Jacob huffed in frustration. “I was in the woods looking around and I realized that they're aren't any bears in these woods. There probably never were any!”

  Guillermo stared at Jacob for a moment longer, now wanting to continue the Calista Flockhart conversation with Tatem. “What guns you talking about?” He asked.

  Jacob shook his head, leaned back to his knees and said, “Never mind. If you two can't figure out –,” Enlightenment scampered through his mind and a tiny nugget of truth revealed itself.

  Guillermo turned back to Tatem shrugged. “Crazy, I guess.” he said.

  “Well, back to last night,” Tatem said and continued on the same topic, but this time Guillermo's aggravation peaked. He didn't want to keep talking about some under-sized flake of a woman and told Tatem as much. Tatem didn't push anymore, conceding the argument in disgust, not understanding how any man couldn't be ejaculation ready for the likes of Mrs. Flockhart. Guillermo questioned the back-to-back airings of the episode to the extent that prime-time television might need more diversity in content, but the quantity of consecutive Ally McBeal's was never an issue. Then, Tatem asked what Guillermo would be watching tonight. As he was answering, the Dodge rumbled onto the gravel, honked, and the engine died. Tatem and Guillermo waved, taking no concern for the welfare of Jacob. Since he stated that he was fine, they took him at his word. And because their gas filled conversation had nearly ignited, neither man bothered to look behind them, or they would have seen Jacob crawling across the gravel, one hand pulling him along and the other seizing his groin; his lips peeled away from his teeth, almost biting through the lower set, his face addled into a stew of agony.

  “Hey, Joe. Billy!” Tatem yelled across the lot.

  “Hey!” Billy waved, then pointed and yelled, “What's wrong with Jacob?” Tatem and Guillermo spun around, saw the man on his hands and knees, knowing that, like them, Jacob never revealed pain and would quietly bare whatever tortured him. In full sprints, Tatem and Guillermo rushed to him, daring not to touch him, but each man kneeling on the sides of him.

  “What's the matter?” Guillermo asked. Jacob didn't stop moving, instead he pulled himself along faster, hoping that with his slightly increased pace, he would somehow elude them and get to his trailer and away from their judging eyes.

  “Is it your nuts? Something wrong with your nuts?” Tatem asked, wanting to comfort Jacob – pat him on the back, maybe – but knowing that if he did, a finger might get broken, or teeth may get knocked out. To Guillermo, Tatem said, “Gotta be his nuts.”

  “There's more than just nuts down there.” Guillermo squatted beside Jacob, studying rather than helping, and duck walked alongside him as he moved. “He could have Crohn's disease, Diverticulitis, appendicitis, hell, irritable bowel syndrome. Besides, he's not holding his nuts.” Guillermo nodded towards Jacob's hand that clutched his lower abdomen. “Can you tell us what's wrong?” Jacob said nothing and soundlessly pulled himself along, his knees dragging, turning over loose rocks on the ground behind him.

  Fast moving footsteps jostled the gravel and approached from behind. Joe arrived first and squatted beside Jacob. “You okay, bud?” He said, then looked at Guillermo. “What's up with him?”

  “I don't know. He started asking a bunch of questions like Tatem did yesterday morning, then this. Looks like some lower intestinal issue to me.” Joe saw the location of Jacob's hand and stood up. Breathing hard, Billy rushed past Joe then leaned down and laid a hand on Jacob's back. “Jake, how you –,” Jacob's hand left his abdomen with the reflexes of a Jaguar, closed into a fist and an upper-cut slammed into Billy's face. His head recoiled, which sent his torso upright for just a moment, then, his body collapsed on itself. Splayed on the ground, eye's closed in deep slumber, blood trickled from his agape mouth and nose and into the nooks of the gravel. Jacob's hand returned to his abdomen, Joe's eyes fell on his friend, and the gaze of Guillermo and Tatem's were fixed not on Billy – though the knock-out blow was rather exciting – but on his leather belt and the holster that was looped onto it. Jacob was right after all. Tatem inquisitively stared at the gun, faintly remembering holding something like it, but... He turned and looked at Joe's hip. There, too, was a gun, the gun he had recently handled sometime in the past. Jacob continued to crawl, Guillermo looked back at Tatem, and Joe screamed,

  “Shit! What the hell was that?”

  “Jacob doesn't like being touched.” Tatem coyly said.

  “Doesn't like – I don't care what Jacob doesn't like! Where does he get off punching one of my men?” Joe scolded. Neither man responded. Joe's hand dangled beside his holster, contracting and releasing, contracting and releas
ing, fingers splayed like the teeth on a rake upon each release, staring at his sleeping friend, then spinning his eyes to Jacob. He turned back to Billy, raised his face to the sky, oscillated his head and a series of crackles was born in his neck. Then, dropped his head.

  “Okay. Everything's cool. Everything's good.” He looked at Guillermo, “Did Jacob say anything about pain anywhere else? Stomach Back? Legs?”

  “Grabbed his back once – right around here.” Guillermo pointed to his side.

  “Kidneys. Great.” Joe, sardonically. “He's passing a stone, boys. We can't work with two men down, but I will have to get Billy to the hospital.” He walked around to Billy's head and lifted the man by the shoulders. “Guillermo, Tatem, one of you grab his feet. Help me get him to the car.” Tatem moved towards the two, but Guillermo was closer.

  “What about Jacob?” Tatem asked. “Shouldn't he go?”

  “For what? He'll pass it on his own. It may take a few minutes, or hours, but it will pass. You guys just stay with him!”

  “Is there any pain medication –,”

  Joe anticipated the question and interrupted. “There's Aspirin in the medicine cabinets of all these trailers. Pick one, get some, and stay with him!”

  Guillermo grabbed Billy's feet and helped Joe carry the limp man to the Dodge Charger. Tatem watched them speed walk to the car, then opened Jacob's trailer door, stood beside it and waited for Jacob to crawl over. Any help offered would be rejected.

  Once Billy was in the car, Joe strapped the man in and leaned the seat back so that his thick head wouldn't flop forward, causing whiplash. He slammed the door and thanked, Guillermo. When he reached the driver's side of the car, his eyes sprang open.

  “Guillermo.”

  “What?”

  “Listen,” Joe whispered, as if Tatem could here him from a 300 yards away. “Jacob's going to need a lot of fluid. If not, that kidney stone could get stuck and cause even more pain for him.”

  “Okay, Joe. I'll remember that.” Guillermo said.

  Joe smiled as if some past event had put him in a good humor. “Sure you will, bud. But listen, I need you to make sure that he gets plenty of beer. Okay?”

  “Beer? To help a kidney stone?”

  “Sure! Why not?” Joe's smile was an unchanging fixture on his face, as if it were a curved eyebrow.

  “I mean, I just thought water –,”

  “Yeah, normally. But, the water around here is loaded with minerals. It's probably what gave him the stone to begin with.” Joe shrugged, lifted his hands in submission. “Look, if you think you know better, if you want to exacerbate the problem, give'em that water, be my guest. It's his urinary tract, not mine.”

  “No, no! You're probably right. I just,” Guillermo placed his palms on his eyes and gently pressed. “I just can't help thinking that... I'm forgetting something.”

  Joe immediately slapped him on the shoulder. “You can stand here trying to pretend like there's something so important to remember, or you can go help Jacob and let me get Billy to the doctor.”

  “Oh! Sorry.” Guillermo nodded.

  “Just make sure that he gets plenty of beer even after he passes the kidney stone. If he doesn't, he'll start asking stupid questions again, because he won't be feeling very well. He will refuse, but you must insist that he drink. It's for his own good. That's all I care about.”

  Guillermo nodded and assured Joe, “You can count on me.” Then ran toward the trailers.

  “Guillermo!” Joe yelled. In mid stride, Guillermo stopped and turned. “Stay with him! Whatever you do, stay with him!”

  “Beer!” Tatem saw Guillermo running from the Dodge Charger, and yelling, “He needs beer! It will help him!” Tatem looked down at Jacob, who was looking back up at him at that very moment. Now only ten feet away from his porch, his crawling slowed, then stopped, and Jacob let out a deep guttural grunt and bowed his back.

  “Beer?” Tatem said, not wanting his associate to suffer any longer. “If it'll help.” He jumped from the porch and rushed over to his trailer. He put the key in the knob, flung the door open, raced for the refrigerator and flung that door open. He reached for the bottom compartment where, last night, he had left his last five bottles. Though he had no time to count the amber bottles, he unzipped his coat and rolled them into his t-shirt, before turning around to leave. On the little coffee table in the living room, seven brown bottles all acknowledged him simultaneously, contrasting labels facing out. He stopped, recognized that Jacob needed him now, not after he completed a few lines of basic math – adding the seven bottles on the table to the five in his shirt, and remembering that he never had more than twelve beers in the fridge at any one time. Deeming it not worth thinking about, he opened front door, careful to keep the bottles secure, though they jangled more than he liked, and glanced back into his bedroom where, at the end of a bed with disheveled dressings, and past the dresser upon which a small television sat, the bathroom light was on. “I've got to remember to turn that off before I leave in the mornings.” He whispered, and closed the front door behind him.

  “Hurry up, Tatem!” Guillermo said, squatting on the ground in front of Jacob.

  “Give me a minute!” Tatem pressed the cold bottles into his body, assuming he could move faster if they were more stable. But now cold air rushed into his coat and sent chills through him. He sped over to Guillermo, laid all five bottles on the gravel and immediately zipped up his coat. The Dodge, a football field away, started up and growled. Then, gravel sprayed around the car, it weaved away from the parking lot, the tires squealed on the asphalt and the car disappeared. The rumbling engine could be heard fading away behind the leafless forest.

  Guillermo grabbed a bottle and twisted the cap. Suds gushed from it and he tilted the bottle in an attempt to pour them off.

  “Jacob?” Tatem said, as he watched Jacob remove his hand from his stomach, watched his face return to normal and marveled upon the man as he stood erect. “What the hell?”

  “I'm fine, guys.” Jacob said, stretching his face after having contorted it for so long.

  “But – you have a kidney stone.” Guillermo said. Tatem stood aside with his mouth ajar as if witnessing some miracle.

  “No kidney stone, Mo. I'm fine. I heard their car arriving and I needed more time to think this thing out.”

  “Think what thing out?” Guillermo asked.

  “Mo?” Tatem questioned the strange nickname.

  Jacob spread his arms and looked around. “This! Being at this mining camp. I have no idea how I got here. Did I apply for the job? Was there an interview? Why don't I remember any of that stuff? Hell, where did I come from to get here?”

  “But his name is Guillermo.” Tatem said, studying the ground. “Why would you call him 'Mo'?” Both men turned to Tatem.

  “I've always called him Mo. Haven't I?”

  “No. Just this morning you called him by his correct name.”

  “Well, it doesn't really matter. It just sounded right, I guess. The point is, I've got to get outta here; get some questions answered!”

  Guillermo ignored them both. Just yesterday Tatem was asked questions that didn't pertain to mining or their nightly activities. Now, Jacob was doing it. They were being reckless and unmindful of the situation. “You need to sit down, Jacob.” Guillermo demanded rather than asked. Jacob saw that there was a cold sternness in his eyes.

  “Yeah. Maybe you're right, Mo.” He took the top stair of the porch as his seat. “I don't know. There's just so much stuff swirling around in my mind. It feels like I've been in a fog or something.”

  “I know what you mean.” Mo nodded. “You've been in a lot of pain. Here.” He handed the open bottle of beer to Jacob, and he took it.

  “I wasn't in any pain. All of that was a ruse. When I heard the car coming, I had to prepare for something big. I couldn't just fall to the ground in pain if you two hadn't already seen me in pain prior to Joe asking about it, could I?”

  “Wel
l,” Tatem said.

  “Well, nothing. I've had Kidney stones before so I knew what to do. And I'm glad it was Billy that touched me instead of one of you. I was going to have to knock someone out in order to get to Joe or Billy alone, and I didn't want it to be either of you guys.”

  Guillermo stared at the bottle in Jacobs hand. “Why don't you go ahead and drink up, bud.”

  “Give me a minute. Okay, Mo?” Jacob held his hand up in frustration. Mo nodded.

  “Why did you want to get either of them alone?” Tatem asked.

  “They have guns, Tate. I can handle one armed man, but not two.”

  “Handle?”

  “I plan on leaving. I don't know where I'll go,” The beer was starting to get too cold for Jacob to hold and he sat it on the stair below him, “but I've got to get some answers.”

  Guillermo swiped the beer from the stair and pushed it back into Jacob's chest. “Here you go. Didn't want you to forget.”

  “I'm fine, Mo. I don't want it.”

  “Yeah you do. You just think you don't. It'll clear you up.” Guillermo said with a smile.

  “No, it won't.”

  Guillermo stepped closer to him and rested on the handrail. “See, when you're in so much pain, what happens is this: your mind sometimes starts making sporadic connects and generally goes in a thousand directions at once. Not only will the beer give you fluids, which you need right now, but it will clear you up, make you feel whole again.”

  Jacob tilted his head with bewilderment in his eyes. “What kind of screwed up logic is that? Who told you that, Mo? Did Joe tell you that?”

  “Just drink up, I promise you that you'll be fine afterward.”

  “I don't want it. But thank you anyway.” Jacob said firmly. Mo pushed the beer into Jacob's hands and Jacob swatted it away, sending the bottle shattering and foaming onto the gravel. He stood up, face to face with Mo. “Don't touch me, Mo, and don't push anything into my hands that I don't want.”