by Bob McGough
After a time I came to a barbed wire fence, the dividing line between the pasture land and the forest. I stood there in the shadows for some time, just staring out, looking for movement. The expanse of grass was silver blue in the moonlight, and it spread out over a low hilltop. I knew that the revival would be just on the other side of the hill, which was perfect. I could get over there unseen most likely.
Carefully I spread two of the strands of wire and contorted my way through, managing to not get my shirt caught on the barbs, or more importantly, my flesh. As rusted and old as the wire was, I’d have lockjaw before the week was out I’d bet if I had. But there is an art to getting past such fences, one I had honed over years of going into places I wasn’t supposed to.
I kept walking along the stream. I figured if I ended up seeing lights, or someone coming, I could just jump down into the water and hide. That would get me most of the way there, then it would be just a short jaunt over the hilltop.
I’d made it almost as far as I had planned when the little bank I was walking along began to dip down. The stream was still about as deep, but it looked like this might be where the cattle crossed. Mr. Andrew had moved the cows to another pasture for the duration, but the lack of grass showed that many a hoof had trod here within recent memory.
A glimmer of a thought came to mind. All revivals like this did baptisms. Glancing up and down the silver thread of the stream, I could see that this was the only part easy enough to get down through to the water. And it was pretty clear someone had taken some time and a shovel to get rid of all the dried cow shit. My guess was this was where they did it, old school style.
Had Hatty said she’d been baptized? My memory said he did, I was pretty sure.
Closing my eyes a moment, I fixed the day and rough time in my mind. Opening them, I glanced up at the moon, and began mouthing a few quiet words. I did a little fiddling with my hands, but the real casting went on in my soul, as I pulled on the power inside me.
The moon holds memories, if you know how to call them up.
A faint shimmering glow covered the ground around me, spreading out towards the water. I focused on what I thought might be there, trying to picture it in my mind. A spell like this works much better if you saw it happen yourself, or know exactly what happened. But with enough power you could call up…
Spectral forms emerged from the glow, faint wisps at first that grew steadily more substantial with every passing moment. At first all you could tell was that there were two figures, but it soon became clear that one was Hatty, and the other Inez. She was leaning against him as they stepped into the water.
Their passing left no ripples in the stream, no real ones at least, as I watched Hatty dunk her under the water, having to bend low to submerge her. It wasn’t until I saw her arms rise up out of the water that I realized how long she’d been under. I saw her start to fight, and the Reverend push harder, keeping her under.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to watch this anymore.
Red Lights Flashing
While I had my eyes closed, I cut off the flow of power. I knew what I needed to know now, unfortunately. When I opened them there was only the faintest hint of the spell left as it faded away to nothingness.
It was one thing to ‘know’ something bad had happened, and another thing entirely to actually know it. Inez was gone, and I’d been hired by an orphan to find her and bring her back. Talk about tilting at windmills. The only plus side to all this was I knew who killed her. Now I just had to decide what to do about it.
The cops wouldn’t listen to me, but they might listen to an anonymous tip to the crimestopper line. That I could make happen. Maybe call and say I’d seen Hatty drown her. Maybe that would get the cops out here, and maybe they would find some sort of proof. Maybe he’d left some fingerprint or something on her car. I could drop that hint as well.
It was something. And I could tell her daddy. He probably wouldn’t want to believe me, but he was that sort of protective, dogged sort of old man that wouldn’t let it rest until some sort of answer was found. He also knew of Granny well enough to give what I say a little more credence than the cops.
Do that, and I’d be done with this. I didn’t know where the body was, but maybe he’d just sunk her down in the stream. Or buried her nearby. They could get a dog out here to figure that out. Those cadaver dogs were something else I’d heard.
Thinking through all this helped distract me from thinking about my dead friend. Even if we hadn’t been all that close, she meant a lot to Jimmy. And we’d spent a good bit of time together over the years, all things considered. Poor Thomas.
I’d make my calls when I dropped off the car I decided. I’d just pop up to the top of the hill, make sure Hatty was still there, and then dip out. I’d like to go down there and kill that son of a bitch, but I’d never killed someone before, and no matter how mad I got, I wasn’t aiming to change that.
I was just below the line of the hilltop when I heard a door shut nearby. It was mighty late for Hatty to still be up I thought, so I quickly scuttled up the rest of the way up the hill, ducking down real low so I couldn’t be seen, at least I hoped. Raising my head slightly, I looked down the hill towards the RV and revival tent.
The large tent was dark, the generator that ran the strings of lights having long been cut off. The camper was in clear view, its pale sides glowing faintly in the moonlight. For the first time I saw the small yellow Datsun truck that was parked alongside it. From the tent earlier it hadn't been visible, the sight of it blocked by the larger RV.
A pale square of light was shining from the window of the camper. Hatty stood there in it, a rifle in his hand. He was working the bolt on it, clearly checking to see if it was loaded. It wracked shut with an ominous snick, and he shoved a small box into his back pocket. More rounds I assumed.
Purposefully he strode over to the truck, carefully slinging the rifle into the passenger seat. He paused a moment before climbing in himself, his head bowed. My guess was he was praying, though if he said anything he was way too far away for me to hear it and it was too dark to see if his lips were moving.
My mind was racing. You see a murderer go climbing in a truck with a rifle this late at night, it's pretty clear he's up to no good. And the kind of no good you get up to with a loaded rifle, well that usually ended up with someone dead. What the fuck was he on about?
I thought back to our conversation. Had I done something to trigger him? Was it something I said? Had that spell or whatever set him off? I thought back, hard. If it was me he was after, well, that was of no matter. I wasn't where you would go looking for me. If he had some sorta spell hunting me, well, it would have told him I was right around and he wouldn't be getting into his truck.
He'd been surprised that Inez had more kids though. And it wouldn't take but a look in the phonebook, or a quick call or two to his congregation to find out just where Inez had been living.
I swore, and as he got into his vehicle, I turned and cut back down the hill. I broke into a run, and within seconds my smoke weakened lungs were protesting. Cursing and wailing more precisely, begging me to stop. I couldn't though. The thought that maybe I'd turned some psycho onto those kids had me right terrified.
The barbed wire caught my shirt, and raked a line across my back as I tried hurrying through the fence. I didn't care, just tugged my shirt free and took off through the woods. Limbs and brush tore at me, cutting up my arms a little, but I got lucky there, and managed to dodge the worst of it. I had to slow some, my lungs simply not having it anymore.
By the time I reached the Pontiac I was wheezing up a storm, and there was more staggering than running. I hit the side of the car, damn near collapsing, as I fumbled at the door handle. I was suddenly glad I hadn't bothered to lock it, because I was pretty sure my shaking hands would never have gotten the key into the lock.
I was ashamed of how out of shape I'd let myself get, but decided that just then was not the time for self-flagellatio
n. At least not on that subject. Tomorrow, I would either take the time then, or be too busy beating myself up for causing a bunch of kids to die.
Of course that assumed I would be alive as well.
I really hoped I was overreacting. That ol’ Hatty was just dipping out to go raccoon hunting, or to pop off a few possums or some shit. Maybe that was how he survived, munching wood rats to tide him over until the next big collection plate pull.
My gut was telling me I was wrong though. On the plus side, I was so focused on catching my breath again that the rocking of the shockless car didn't bother me half as bad. By the time I got the damn thing back on the paved road I could almost breath again.
I got the car going about as fast as I could, at least as fast as I felt marginally safe going. The old car didn't exactly have a lot of gumption, so racing along was not really in its wheelhouse. I got it up to around seventy on the straightaways, and that was about all it seemed it was willing to do.
Hatty would have a good head start, I knew that. I just had to hope that he would be going slower so as to not draw attention, and not being local he would have to find the place. But with my piss poor showing as a distance sprinter, hell, for all I knew he'd already gotten there.
I kept checking the rearview, expecting flashing lights at any second, but for once my luck held. There wouldn't be any talking my way out of this one if a sheriff stopped me, I knew that. And any sort of delay, well I reckoned that would be all she wrote.
I was coming up on Jerms, and I debated taking a second to try and roust him out as some added muscle. Or at least to maybe call the cops, get them moving. They wouldn't likely listen to me, but they’d probably listen to Jerm's momma. But could I spare the time?
As I whipped past going about sixty-five through the turn, passing Jerm's place, I still hadn't decided. I guess by not bothering to even slow I'd sorta made my choice, but it hadn't been all that conscious of a thought. It just sorta happened before I could decide otherwise.
Well, I was fucking committed now. It was me versus Hatty.
Assuming of course my drug addled paranoia hadn't just gotten me all whipped up into a frenzy for nothing.
Time To Retire
I hit the little dirt road the Richmond family called home going a good fifty miles an hour. I was lucky the Pontiac was so heavy, it kept the car from sliding all over the place as I veered from the paved road. It also served to make me hit my head against the roof, causing me to yell out in pain. It stung, bad, making my eyes water.
For a moment I prayed that would be the last time I had cause to curse the busted shocks of the car. Then I thought about that ominous-like, and decided I would happily bitch about them tomorrow if I was still alive. A sore head and even more sore ass was preferable to not being sore at all...ever again. In a casket.
It had been dark out on the main road, but here on a Jubal County backroad my headlights didn’t so much cut through the darkness as get swallowed up by it. The cock-eyed lights weren’t the best to begin with, and with the closely growing trees the moonlight had been choked off before it could reach through to light my way.
Two eyes reflected back at me, small and low to the ground. They started away from the car and for a brief moment I saw a possum go scuttling through the ditch, back into the woods. He was lucky he was smart, because I hadn’t the time to slow down for anything smaller than a deer.
I passed the well-kept elder Richmond homestead. One lone security light lit up the back corner of the yard, but my quick glance showed there weren’t any signs of life from inside the house. Early to bed, early to rise no doubt. I’d had a slight hope that maybe they were up doing something with the chickens, because sometimes the farms around here would get their deliveries of hatchlings at night. I hadn’t a clue if Elias was one of them, but judging from the lack of lights shining back in the woods, I guessed even if he was, tonight was not his night.
Racing around the curve that led to the home I had left a lifetime ago that morning, my heart leapt into my throat. I didn’t see the little Datsun anywhere. I cut loose a little whoop and eased my foot off the gas till I was going an actual reasonable speed.
I eased the car into the yard, directing its nose towards the barn. My eyes looked around, and sure enough, no truck, no Hatty. There was one light on in the trailer, but other than that, it looked like there wasn’t much activity going on. So I parked the car and slowly got out, rubbing my aching backside.
There in the mouth of the barn I stopped, pausing to light a cigarette. The hand holding my lighter was shaking a bit I was surprised to find, and I took a moment to steady it. It did, after a minute or two and I tucked the Bic away in my pocket once more. I stood there in the shadows, the cherry of my cig a tiny red counterpoint to the light dusting of stars in the night sky above.
I heard a screen door shut, and my eyes darted to the trailer. Forrest had stepped out onto the little porch. “That you Marsh?” He called out in a low voice.
“Yeah, just me,” I said. I held my ground. I was afraid I might look pale, scared. I didn’t want him to see me like that, at least not clearly. It was better that I was in the dark.
He came padding across the yard barefoot, wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and an Auburn shirt a size too small. “I was beginning to think you’d done took the car and run off.”
I snorted, faking a bravado I wasn’t feeling. “Well I ‘preciate you not calling the cops on me. Last thing I need is to be dealing with that shit.”
“Eh, I knew better,” he said. “Besides, I was too busy today, what with getting pipe run, and getting some damn seeds in the ground. Bout the time I got done with that, it was time to get everyone fed and in bed. And you can imagine how that went.”
I could. Younger siblings never liked to listen to their older siblings, even when there was a parent around to enforce things. With Inez having been gone for so long…
“I didn’t find her,” I sighed. “I looked all over, all the usual spots, but…”
There was no way I was gonna be the one to break it to him that his mom was dead. I would do a crimestopper tip to get that ball rolling, but breaking that sorta news to someone? Shit, no fucking way, not if I could help it. Besides, it wouldn’t make any real difference, not in the long run. I tell him what happened, and that just leads to questions that no cop will ever believe the answers to, and then boom, I’m on trial for murder.
Upstanding revival preacher, or druggie homeless degen. I know who the fuck their first suspect would be, if I tried coming at them direct with something like this. To. Hell. With. That.
I’ll say though, it couldn’t have turned out much worse than the look that boy gave me. The moral of the fucking night had quickly become ‘hope is fucking poison.’ The little bit of life in his face faded away, drained until his face matched the color of the moonlight.
“Em, I figured you wouldn’t,” he said bravely. “No worries.” He sighed, then looked up at the night sky. I looked away, so as to not notice how much he was blinking. “I appreciate you taking the time to look. You spent all damn day on it, and it means a lot. I just wish I had some more money to give you.”
I was about to say something, but my mind wiped itself right blank, right quick. There were headlights coming up the road.
So We Turned That Liquor Store Into A Structure Fire
“Uh, maybe I could...” the youth was saying. I cut him off.
“Hey, maybe we should take this inside. It’s sort of dark out here and all. And I could use a drink if you got one to spare real quick.” I was praying the headlights meant nothing. Just some teens out joyriding the backroads, or someone coming home from second shift at the Hyundai plant. But just in case…
“Yeah, I can handle that,” Forrest said, making his way towards the house. “Sweet tea alright?”
“Sounds perfect. Lemme finish this cig, and I’ll be right there.” It wasn’t until I went to take a pull on the smoke that I realized I had clenched my fing
ers so hard I had smashed the filter tight. Tighten up Marsh.
Forrest was almost to the little porch when the headlights came fully into view. The headlights attached to a small Datsun pickup truck that was cruising very slowly down the road. I could see the faint glow of a cell phone inside, as of someone looking at a GPS screen maybe.
The youth turned back to look at me. The trailer was between him and the truck, so he couldn’t see it, but he must have heard it. “Someone pulling up?”
“Boy, get inside right now and hide. Hide your brother and sister too.”
Forrest took a step towards me. “What?” He asked, confusion filling his face.
“Something bad is about to happen,'' I snapped. “Now git! Hide, and if you can, call the cops.” He still stood there, taken aback. “Run boy!”
At last he took off, a few slow steps at first, then he broke into a sprint, skipping the steps and jumping straight up onto the porch. I didn’t watch anymore however. I flicked my cigarette into the grass and started out of the barn.
The truck had passed out of sight for me as well, having moved in front of the trailer. But a sudden brighter red glow let me know that Hatty, it had to be Hatty, was hitting the brakes. I could still hear the engine as well, and I heard as it came to a stop.
I broke into a trot myself, needing to confirm who it was before I did anything rash. I wondered if I should have told the boy to take his family out the back, into the woods, but that ship had sailed. Crossing my fingers, I peeked around the trailer. It was definitely the preacher’s truck.