Bringing Home The Rain: The Redemption of Howard Marsh 1 (The Jubal County Saga)

by Bob McGough

  I was opening my mouth to try and bullshit an explanation, but she cut me off. “Get out the van,” she said.

  Glancing at the skull, I hesitated a moment, then stepped out. My head and shoulder were already wet, so it wasn’t a great sacrifice to step out into the rain. I noticed LaToya made no move to provide me any cover. Which I didn’t mind. I just noted. Quietly. And to myself.

  Away from the van, she was able to uncover her nose, though one knuckle rested on her lips as she made this odd face. It was like she was praying for patience, but all God was sending down was annoyance. It’d have been funny if I didn’t suspect it would bode poorly for me.

  “Marsh, what the fuck did you eat?” She finally asked as she opened her eyes and lowered her hand.

  I raised both hands. “Oh no, that ain’t my doing. Honestly, have you ever smelled anything like that before? Anyone that pukes that up has to be dying.”

  The officer sucked her teeth. “Then what is it? Have you started hauling toxic waste now? Is stealing copper outta ac units not lucrative enough anymore?”

  I had no sort of answer that would satisfy her. None. Maybe if I was a little less doped up I could have thought of something. Maybe if the Pooka hadn’t tweaked my mind up so hard I could have planned this out better. If wishes were horses.

  I shrugged.

  “A shrug? That’s all you got for me?” She arched an eyebrow. “None of your usual snark and awe?”

  “LaToya…”

  “Deputy Williams, please and thank you,” she said firmly.

  “Deputy Williams, you know me. You know good and well I ain’t got no license, and most times if you see me out and about, I am up to what most folks would consider no good. You got a rough idea about how much of my life gets spent in the jail. About the shit I get into.”

  Sighing, I wiped the rain from my face. “You got me driving all sorts of illegally, and even if you was the bribable type, which so far as I know you ain’t really, I don’t have anything you’d want. You got every right to haul me off to jail.”

  “But?” She asked. “I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”

  I nodded. “But this one time, just this once’t, I’m asking you to let this slide.”

  She snorted. “Oh, this I got to hear.”

  “I mean, it’s raining, and I’m sure you’d much rather be back in your car than dealing with me. But you’re a decent cop, so you ain’t likely to let comfort come before duty. I get that. It’s damn near respectable in my eyes.” I leaned back against the van door. “But you also caught a whiff of what’s inside, and I know good and well you don’t want any more to do with that. And if you go to arrest me, you’re gonna have to search the van.”

  It was hard to tell under the hood of her rain jacket, but I think she was arching an eyebrow. “Not good enough,” she said, her hand pulling out her handcuffs. “You know the drill.”

  “Wait now,” I said, raising my hand up in front of me, like I was trying to fend off an attack. Which I guess I kinda was, not that most people would view it as such. “Those are reasons, but not the good reasons. I mean, they work plenty fine for me, but then I might be biased.”

  “Might be?” She laughed.

  I winked. “There’s a good reason you shouldn’t do it, and then there’s the real reason. The good reason is because if you arrest me, it’s to no point. I’ll be out within the hour. One phone call, and I’ll be free. I promise you that.” I wasn’t actually sure if Rutherford would bail me out, but I was sure I could spin him in such a way that he’d get me turned loose, if for no other reason than to make sure the Pooka went back to where it belonged. “You know I got arrested yesterday morning? And here I am, out free and not even on bail. Just turned loose. Same thing’ll happen again. So why waste your time?”

  LaToya eyed me warily. Stepping away, she never took her eyes off of me, but once she was out of easy earshot she made some call on the radio. It took a minute or so, in which time I just stood there getting steadily more wet. It was a cold rain, and I knew that pretty soon I would be shivering. If I ended up with a fucking cold from all this, I knew I was going to be mighty pissed.

  Stepping back, there was a curious look on her face. “So what’s the real reason?”

  I locked eyes with her, and put on my serious face. I have pretty blue eyes, but when I want, they look cold and piercing, like icy daggers. I met her curious gaze with my forceful one. “Because LaToya there’s something going on right now that you want no part of. It’s not illegal, I promise you that, nothing that will blow back on you. But it’s something you won’t believe until it’s too late, and then there’s no turning back. Something that me and mine are equipped to handle so that the rest of the world don’t ever have to know what’s really there.”

  “What do you…” she started to ask.

  Cutting her off, I gestured back inside the van. “You saw that skull, and you smelled that smell. That ain’t me just gathering up early Halloween decorations. You’ve heard the rumors about my family, and you’re a smart woman. You can put two and two together, but when you get four, just know that it’s a four that right now, only I can handle. A four that if it were to get loose, might start adding numbers of its own, only it’d be in dead bodies.”

  That was a real exaggeration of course, Pookas very rarely killed anyone, at least not directly. But she wouldn’t know that, wouldn’t even know there was such a thing as a Pooka, and I figured she would spin it in her mind that this was all for the greater good. Whatever it took, I just really wanted to be done with this, and jail would only prolong matters.

  The deputy looked from me to the van, and back again. I could see her face was a war of emotions. She really was one of the good ones, which was rare in the Jubal County sheriff's department. She bit her lip, then nodded. “You promise me you’re good to drive?”

  I raised my left hand, putting my other hand over my heart. I had her. “Scout’s honor.”

  She stood there, staring at me, not saying a word. “What happened to you, Marsh? Why are you like this?” she asked after a few moments. I didn’t like the direction this was headed. I wanted to speak, but she raised a hand, and just turned and started to walk away. Pausing, she looked over her shoulder. “You’re smarter than this,” she added softly. “Get it together, before something really bad happens.”

  I didn’t get back inside the van until she had pulled away. To her taillights, I finally answered. “Why am I like this?” I laughed, but it was bitter sounding, even to me. “Because something really bad happened.”

  Rain, Rain, Take Me On Out Of This Town

  Even though LaToya had let me go, I wasn’t so foolish as to believe that I would be able to pass through that insurance checkpoint without being hassled and then arrested. Convincing the one deputy who doesn’t hate you to give you a break is one thing. Convincing three cars’ worth of ones that do hate you is another.

  Grumbling all the while, I turned the van down a road that would take me to my destination while avoiding the cops. It was longer, and more out of the way, but I didn’t have any choice really. Normally, I would have enjoyed a bit of the scenic route, but it was too dark to enjoy the view, and I really just wanted to go home.

  LaToya’s surprising care had me spiraling into a bit of a funk. I don’t know why I cared what the hell she thought, but I did. Maybe it was because she remembered me back before everything went wrong. Not that things were great even then, but they were better. My brain took to twisting down a path of woulda/coulda/shoulda, and I suddenly found myself aching for a bit of oblivion.

  I had my box of oblivion of course, but anything in there would have me riled back up and unable to drive. That was the exact opposite of what I wanted. A few shots of whiskey would have been the ticket, or even a few beers, just enough to help take the edge off. But I didn’t have any of that on hand, and I wasn’t sure getting even a little drunk was the best move in this sort of weather.

  In the end, I
decided that fate had shown its hand. The new route I was taking took me right by the Stone Road Shell, which was the only gas station outside of Elk Grove and Sumpville that was open after midnight. Glancing at the glow of the dash, I saw that I could probably stand to put a couple bucks in gas in the tank as well. I didn’t want to get H.D.’s expectations up for future times that I borrowed it, but then I figured it might be best to make up for the little bit of damage I had done.

  Ten minutes later, I was handing a pimply faced young woman a ten dollar bill in exchange for a Steel Reserve tall boy and some gas. I gave her my winningest smile, which judging from the blank stare she gave me in return, went over like a brick in a Jello pile.

  She looked half asleep, which may have explained her not noticing me slipping a few Slim Jims in my pocket. Or maybe she just didn’t care. I’d be surprised, judging from her looks, if she was long out of high school.

  I stepped outside, peeling the wrapper from a stolen piece of jerky. “Kids these days,” I muttered.

  The rain was still coming down, but the awning that covered the pumps was keeping it off of me. The shell was an old store, and its owner hadn’t sunk any real money in the place in years. A good half of the bulbs were blown overhead, and several of the rest were just flickering. Glancing up, I could see the fixtures hadn’t been cleaned in a long time, the bodies of thousands of dead bugs littering the inside of them.

  As I started pumping the gas, the wind began gusting, and the rain which had been falling almost straight down began blowing sideways. This had the effect of sending the rain falling on me once again. I swore, but really there was no way I could get much wetter than I already was, thanks to my interlude with the deputy. Luckily, I was only getting about three gallons, so it didn’t take long.

  Settling back into the van, I pulled the tall boy from the small brown paper bag. I crumpled the paper and flung it into the puddle of vomit. I half expected it to sizzle, or catch fire, but it just began sinking into the gunk, soaking up bile. With a shrug, I popped the tab on the beer and took a long sip.

  I’d compromised on one beer. Drugs would have taken me in the wrong direction, there was no place to buy liquor this late, and a whole six pack would have been unfortunate most likely. One beer though, even though it was a big one...well, I needed something to soothe my ache.

  I was the only one there at the pumps, so I sat there drinking the beer. I watched the girl through the window. She was partially obscured by a coke ad, but from what I could see, she just hunched there, her head in her hands, fighting to stay awake. She didn’t even bother watching the TV, which through the static looked to be playing some sort of late night talk show.

  Thinking about the weed, I was sure tempted to walk back in and see if she wanted to smoke a joint. That would do a real good job of taking the edge off, and I really didn’t want to be alone just then. I was feeling powerfully lonesome. But then I remembered the fucking spirit in my passenger seat and thought better of it. Sometimes you just had to be alone with your demons, both figuratively and literally.

  A huge bolt of lightning struck nearby, startling me. When I glanced back, I saw it had even managed to rouse the young woman, who was now staring out the window. I saw her look towards me. I gave a half-hearted wave, but she just went back to cradling her head.

  I downed the last of the beer and flung the empty can out the window, trying to ring the trashcan. I missed by a good three feet, but I didn’t have it in me to get out and pick it back up. Deciding to leave it for sleepy beauty to take care of, I slipped the van back out into the storm.

  The rain was now really starting to pour. I couldn’t in good conscience leave the window down now, as the rain was pounding hard enough that I was worried it might ruin what was left of the ratty interior of the old van. I tried leaving it cracked, but water was still coming in faster than I was really comfortable with.

  With the shitty job the old wipers were doing, I had to slow down even more than I had been. The worn blades couldn’t keep up, and I was finding it harder and harder to see. I slowed to forty miles an hour, then thirty, then twenty.

  It was raining so hard that the water was puddling on the road, and for one butt-puckering moment, I felt the van start to skew, threatening to hydroplane me right off the road. I debated just stopping again, but I was so close to home at this point that I decided to risk it. Lightning was striking with disturbing regularity, getting steadily closer.

  I was so focused on the road that I didn’t notice the Pooka at first. It was letting loose a low hiss, like a kettle slowly releasing steam. I couldn’t spare time looking away from the road, it was too dangerous for that, but I listened as close as I could, and sorta tried reaching out with my other senses, but didn’t really get anything.

  Coming upon another car, I was left blind by its headlights. The beams struck the poorly wiped water on the windshield and refracted, obscuring all of my view. I pumped the brakes, coming almost to a complete stop as for a moment I lost sight of the road.

  Slowly accelerating again, I tried once more easing through the storm.

  Thanksgiving

  It was with a tremendous amount of relief that I finally turned onto the dirt road my family lived on. The rain was coming harder with every passing moment, and the fucking Pooka was hissing louder right along with it. I figured it must have been summoning up that storm, using its magic to manipulate the already existing weather. Stopping it had crossed my mind more than once, but in the end, I figured that I would rather have it focus on making the weather worse, than something I couldn’t see coming. Bad weather, I could deal with.

  The road was slick and muddy, and I slowed even further. The speedometer was barely moved off of zero, but I only had a few miles left to go, so I didn’t care. I kept to the middle of the road, staying as far from the ditches as possible. I could see they were starting to overflow, which was worrisome, but again, I didn’t have far to go.

  And then there was the turkey.

  Why was a wild turkey running around in this sort of weather? It defied all logic. The damn thing should have been roosted up tight in some tree, trying its best to stay dry. What it should not have been doing was launching itself from one of the high embankments to the other.

  Unfortunate for me, and doubly unfortunate for the van, was that the embankments at that point were roughly windshield height. So as it flung itself, wings flapping through the night, it smacked right into the windshield. I shouted, snatching the wheel and slamming the brakes, but it was too late.

  The windshield was crushed. It didn’t fully shatter inwards, but it was heavily dented in, the center of a spreading spider web of cracks. The turkey itself flew back over the van out of sight, a dust cloud of feathers in its wake. The van, however, didn’t stop moving, as it kept sliding through the mud.

  I tried cutting the wheel, but it was too late. It was lucky I was going so slow, but regardless the van slipped into the ditch, one headlight going dark with a crunch. It was so slow motion of a wreck that it would have been comical, if I wasn’t already thinking of how pissed H.D. was going to be.

  I’d been rocked a little, but my seatbelt had held me in place. There hadn’t been the speed for whiplash, hell, the belt hardly even locked. Looking at the windshield, I knew it was a wonder that it hadn’t completely blown inwards. A face full of glass was not what I wanted, that was for damn sure.

  The passenger window finished cracking, and fell outwards. It happened just long enough after the actual wreck that I was pretty sure the Pooka was behind it. There was nothing I could do about it, however, so I just stared at it, mouth agape. My uncle was going to kill me, was all I could think about as rain began pouring in.

  Throwing the van in reverse, I tried to back out of the ditch. The tires spun, splattering mud everywhere, but the vehicle didn’t move. I turned the wheel every which way, pumping the gas as I did so, but the damn thing refused to shake loose. I sort of lost it there for a minute. Screaming, cursi
ng, fist slamming into things, the works. It was dramatic.

  When I calmed down enough to think clearly, I realized I needed to get that side window covered. I could get one of my uncles to come pull the van out, but that would take time. I checked my cell phone and found it was dead as hell, so there would be no calling for help. I would have to walk it. Turning in my seat, I rummaged through the junk in the back of the van until I found an old black trash bag.

  Stepping out of the van, I found myself in water so deep that it reached my ankles. This had the effect of allowing muddy rainwater to flow in through my laces, instantly soaking my socks. This did little to improve my mood.

  The mud squelched underfoot, and I had to fight at times to keep my feet from slipping. I saw the corpse of the turkey lying in the middle of the road a score of yards away, and walking over to it, I gave it a good hard kick. Wet feathers went flying, and if anything, I felt worse than before.

  Stomping back to the van, I opened the passenger door and set about trying to slide that garbage bag in place. It was a pretty snug little space, with not a lot of room for me to get the door open, being so close to the embankment. And the bag was only just big enough that I was able to carefully scooch it down over the top of the door. It eventually got too wide, but the bag covered most of the glassless space, with only about an inch of space left for rain to fall in. That would have to do.

  Shutting the door, I turned and my heart skipped a beat. The turkey was gone.

  Well, That’s Not Good

  I whipped my head back around and flung open the door. I reached out and put my hand on the totem, sending out a little tendril of power. The skull was empty of any spirit. When I say that I swore, know that this is a horrific understatement.

  Slamming the door shut, I ran to where the carcass had lay. There were still a number of feathers lying around to mark the spot, a bit of blood as well, turning the rainwater pink. I frantically began to look around, my eyes darting in all directions.