by Aaron Mach
Charlene, his regular, was standing just outside his door. “You looking for some sugar, sugar?”
She was not an attractive woman even in her prime, and nearing forty her sole occupation in life was to get just enough money for the next fix. She wore a dress that was entirely too small and she looked very cheap, but that was how Arch liked it, he liked everything cheap.
“Not now, whore,” said Arch as loud as one could muster after coming down from his typical cocaine binge.
“Mm hmm, fine suga’, last you see any a this” said Charlene as a matter of fact.
Arch knew this not to be true and he slammed the door in her face. His demeanor worsened when he looked at the inside of his room. Fast food containers and empty liquor bottles were strewn about and he was so exhausted he didn’t even care. He fell flat on his face on the dirty, very used mattress of the cheap motel. Another moment of lucidity came across him right before closing his eyes. Is this all there is? Not caring that he still had his dirty boots and clothes on he looked for the light switch blindly. As he turned he eyed a bible, “placed by the Gideons,” he read. He pondered on it a moment and immediately threw it across the room, and not long after, his eyes were closed and he was dreaming of horrible things.
VIII
The Deer Lodge Prison was business as usual for the next several days. Anders was back to his usual duties in the solitary confinement wing. He worked the graveyard shift because the pay was a few pennies more an hour and he needed all the money he could get to support his newborn baby girl. The morning shift arrived and he began to transfer over his duties and give a de-brief to the incoming guard of the night’s activities.
“Pretty quiet last night, Tom,” said Anders to the morning shift guard. “All except cell three, the prisoner was making quite a bit of noise and he was banging his head against the door for at least an hour.”
“Oh yeah?” said Tom with a chuckle.
“Yeah. I talked to him about the weather and read the paper to him a bit. Sometimes a man just needs to be acknowledged. You can go a long time in this place without feeling like you exist, you know?” said Anders in a sad tone.
“You care too much man, I’d a just left him in there and turned up the tube,” said Tom.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. But then again, maybe the guys in here just never got a chance to be heard. Maybe their crime was a means of calling for help. A Hail Mary to the world.,” said Anders.
“Uh, yeah buddy, whatever you say. Just collecting a paycheck here, you know, checking that box,” said Tom.
“Ha, yeah Tom, suppose you’re right,” said Anders to Tom agreeably.
“Everything else good though?”
“Yep, all good, have a good shift,” said Anders with a smile as he exited the outer cell door.
“Hey Anders?” said Tom.
“Yes Tom.”
“Captain wants to see you.”
“Uh, okay, sure, I’ll head there right now,” said Anders.
“Oh, and Anders.”
“Yes Tom,” said Anders, now thoroughly distracted. The captain had never personally called him, mainly because the captain didn’t ever personally want to see him.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” said Tom, genuinely concerned.
“I’m sure you’re right,” said Anders as he was already exiting the outer cell door.
Anders went to the locker room, which resided in the outer area of the prison away from the main inmate population. He took his time knowing the inevitable and already trying to decide what he would say or do. Not only that, but he was going to need a new job, nothing paid this well anywhere near his home, and as he looked in the mirror at his skin, he immediately knew why he was being called. He removed his uniform for what he thought was the last time and folded it neatly, placing his nameplate on top of the pile of clothing. “Anders,” not even my real name, he thought while closing the locker door slowly.
The world was not a kind place to Native Americans back then and he knew his jig was up. Someone had told the Captain or he had done some research. Either way it was back to some hard labor job and the uncertainty common for those from the res.
Anders knocked on the captain’s door.
“Enter,” said the captain in a monotone.
Anders entered and waited for the request to have a seat. The captain took his time letting Anders sweat a bit and they both knew this. He was looking out the window to the rear of the office, which oversaw the yard where all the prisoners were currently in their morning hour outside. He had a half eaten donut on the table, jelly, and a cup of the coffee next to it. The mug had the words, “Every Day Should Begin with a Smile,” on it with a big smiley face, and Anders rolled his eyes when he saw it. The captain had his uniform top off and slung over the back of the ridiculously extravagant desk chair. His hands were behind his back in a parade rest position.
“Have a seat,” said the captain. “Stalking Wolf. That’s your real name right? Stalking Wolf.”
The captain didn’t give a chance for an answer.
“You Indians got some real interesting names, like you needed to make yourselves feel better after us whites took over.” said the captain. “Well you know, I’ve been keeping my eye on you a lot lately, and you know what I learned?”
The captain didn’t give a chance for an answer.
“You’re a good guard. Nothing heroic or great, but you filled the uniform and you kept the men in line.”
“Thank you sir,” said Anders, still holding on hope for a good outcome, trying to sneak in a reply, some semblance of a man-to-man talk.
“You know Anders, I come off as a hard-ass, I know it. But the reality is, how else do you run a prison? The scum of the Earth come through these doors day in and day out,” said the captain in a grandiose tone.
“Yes sir,” said Anders.
“But I have to let you go.”
Anders was hit with a brick. He knew this was coming but just hearing it made it such a reality, one he could never prepare himself for.
“The other guards don’t want someone from the res taking their jobs. They have friends, good God fearing white friends who are unemployed, and we don’t want a strike on our hands, now do we? You understand, I’m sure,” stated the captain.
Anders stepped out of the prison and walked to his beat up olive green Pinto. He opened the creaky door to the car and before he sat down, he looked back at the monstrosity that was Deer Lodge Prison. He sat in the driver seat praying that the car would start, and thankfully it did. He pulled a left onto the state highway for a three-hour drive back to the Flathead res where his family lived. Normally he’d stay in town in one of the small motels during his workweek and then commute, but now he would be going back a little earlier.
He pulled into the res late that night and walked into the double wide where he and his wife lived with their newborn. He tried not to wake her up but she was sitting there with his baby girl at the kitchen counter. His beautiful wife Aponi, which means forest water, smiled at him.
Anders placed his bag on the couch in the living room, walked over to the kitchen, put his elbows down on the counter, and covered his face with his hands.
“Why are you back so early?” his wife asked in the kindest, most innocent whisper he had ever heard, and he almost wanted to just break down right there. With her free hand she stroked Stalking Wolf’s short black hair.
“They let me go, baby,” said Anders in a sound of defeat.
“What? No, how could they?” said Aponi in a slightly louder tone of concern.
“The captain found out I’m from here, and that, as they say, is that,” said Anders.
“And you just let him fire you,” said Aponi much louder now and with great frustration.
“What was I supposed to do, just lean over the desk and crack that stupid coffee mug of his over his head and go about my work?” said Anders.
Aponi settled down and looked down to the newborn and frowned. She th
en looked at her husband with eyes of great respect and admiration.
“You were a great warrior my husband, you have so many talents and I love you. I know that you will find something else,” said his wife as she smiled at him again with so much love he couldn’t help but crack a grin. Her love was so great for him and their family that it overflowed into everyone around her. He was so grateful that she was on his side.
Anders looked over at the mantel above the couch, and the faint glow of light from the kitchen shined onto a photo of Stalking Wolf with three other soldiers, with arms over each other, smiling. In the background of the photo you could see a village burning and green highlands all around.
IX
Man often used to walk into open spaces. That untouched nature to restore his soul. Experiencing something grander than himself in the hopes that bright and shining light rubbed off on him, if even just a small part. Though it seems men have been flocking to larger cities. They huddle around the small dying fire that are our grand cities for that last glimpse of hope and warmth before it goes out for the last time. As the cities overpopulate it merely increases the speed at which the fuel of our humanity is consumed. A fuel found in the nowhere places, the abandoned places.
The drifter contemplated this often in his own quiet places with pity and condemnation. As he lay there in the evening light with the sun going down ever so slowly, creating a small glow over the horizon, he pondered the inevitable destruction of hope. Not a loss of humanity but that fire inside of each person that holds all of the power. The hope, drive, love, compassion, thoughtfulness and honor lost in those he has met along his journey. What was his place in this world?
The sun had come down fully over the horizon and he decided to move quickly to prepare his bedding. He didn’t have the energy to hunt tonight, so he just ate what was left of last night’s kill and laid down. His eyes were closing, and clutching his mother’s hairpin with white knuckles, he quickly drifted off to sleep.
The day had barely decided to begin when he awoke with a stir nearby. He slowly opened one eye to examine the area around him. He smelled the air and quieted his breathing to determine if there was any disturbance. A faint odor of flesh and urine filled his nose and without moving he was fully aware that a predator was within striking range of him. With one smooth motion he got up and pulled his Native American short blade. Its handle was of an Elk antler and the blade diamond sharp. He sat there crouched in an attack posture and assessed the situation as he had done a thousand times. Before him was an all black wolf with yellow eyes.
The animal was large, bigger than any wolf that Jack had ever seen. The eyes were also different. There was an intelligent quality about it. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was about this animal that was strange to him, he only sensed that this behavior was not normal. Throughout Jack’s life he had been keenly aware of Cheyenne culture. It was an inevitability living in Montana. The duality of the wolf is divided between protection and destruction. This animal lived between two worlds, with a separation of the inward self that is experienced by most men. Struggling to find what is good but often finding being left with only what is evil. There are moments in a man’s life where the decision to be one or the other is only determined by a few choices. Those choices shape who you are and there are so many who choose so poorly.
Jack snapped out of this rabbit hole of his subconscious as he noticed the wolf slowly moving its way toward him. Its steps were heavy, as the wolf was easily twice Jack’s size. Unsure of to do, he stood his ground, ready for anything. In a moment the wolf leaped a distance of ten feet. The paws were massive and the impact hard on his chest as he was laid out onto the rocky ground. His spine would have easily been broken from the animal’s force had it not held back. Why did it hold back? Jack’s ankle burst with pain as he saw it twisted in the wrong direction. There was no time to address the injury as he felt the breath from the vicious predator on his face. The smell of rotting meat was heavy as Jack struggled for breath from the weight of the animal. Its head came down closer and closer. Their faces were but inches from each other. Eyes locked once again as it seemed the wolf was trying to savor its fresh prey. When the animal released its hold on Jack and allowed him to breathe once again, there was something very peculiar about the way it was acting. There seemed to be something that it wanted to communicate but could not within the physical limitations of its current form. This was no animal. It was there for a purpose. There was something it was trying to say and it could not.
The animal turned and walked fifty feet to the edge of the woods. It turned and once more, for only a moment, locked eyes with Jack. Its head went down in seeming frustration with its inability to say what it was sent to say. Then as quickly as it came, it was gone into the dense woods.
Jack sat up and brushed himself off, assessing the injury. His ankle was getting bigger by the minute and his attempt to put weight on it ended in utter agony. As he collapsed to the ground, waiting for the pain to subside, his mind landed on an image of his father. His cruelty was uncompromising and his desertion the reason Jack could not live in this world. Jack also remembered a few times when his father was sober. The times were rare, and there was a long stretch after his mother passed that his father hardly drank at all. His mind switched to an evening when the sun was coming down over the farm. The barn was empty and they spent the entire day bailing and tossing hay into the back of the tractor. The work was hard but they worked together. Even laughed more than once. Jack didn’t know what to think of his father then, as a sixteen-year-old boy who had been beaten nearly his entire youth, he was confused by those kinds of days. He welcomed them and tried to enjoy every moment with a father that was real, and maybe even loved him. What happened at the end of the day was amazing and painful at the same time. It was a glimmer of a hope that never came alive, the thought that his father might actually father him. Be a light that he never thought he would see. As they walked back to the house, each sweaty and dirty from the day, his father put his arm around his boy. They walked like that all the way to the porch. Those hundred yards were the happiest that Jack had ever been. He savored every step. Even through the hatred from the years of torment, he was still in that moment, hopeful for a future where that was all behind them. They could finally be a family.
Jack lifted himself up to one foot and hobbled back to his campsite. Dazed at the revelation this wild animal brought to him.
X
Arch awoke that morning with a screaming headache. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a bottle of some type of booze and drank those last few drops. He threw the bottle to the floor and sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the ground. He was usually in a stage of disbelief in the mornings as he continued to disbelieve and discount the purpose of continuing on to another day. As this sensation passed he moved over to the television and flipped on the local news. He went over to the mirror and looked at himself. He didn’t look good, and he didn’t care. He thought about taking a shower but decided against it, as he will just be sweaty and dirty again in a few hours. He overheard the news about some kids who were arrested for trespassing on private property, apparently a bunch of nature enthusiasts. He laughed under his breath. He left the motel room and was blinded temporarily by fresh daylight and cursed under his breath. To his right down the exterior motel walkway he saw Charlene passed out and curled into a ball.
“Stupid bitch,” he mumbled under his breath.
Arch got into his truck and drove to the work site. He arrived at the office and Fred was sitting there.
“Oh great, what now?” He whispered to himself.
“Hey Arch, uh, how’s things?” Fred nervously asked.
“Why in the fuck do you care?” Arch replied.
“Well uh, just thought you should know, that uh, some of the scouts found an old cabin in the woods in the new sector. Thought you know, uh, you should know, you know?”
“Who gives a shit, drive over it with the DC-10, and g
et me some damn coffee!” Arch demanded.
“Well, uh, you see the problem, is uh, they think that someone lives there,” Fred replied.
“Did I ask if someone did or did not live there? Run it the fuck over!” Arch screamed.
His headache was moving from bad to critical and if he didn’t get a fix he was going to hurt something.
Fred was cautious in his response, “Well, uh, sir, the problem is the scouts won’t do anything until they are sure no one lives there”.
“Uh huh, I see,” replied Arch, losing interest in the topic entirely.
“What should we do?” Fred asked.
“Take a fucking team, and fucking check the fucking cabin, do you fucking understand?” Arch groaned.
Fred nodded and left as quickly as he could. He understood the moods of Arch better than most. Arch moved over to his desk and opened the bottom left drawer. In it contained raunchy magazines, small baggies of cocaine, and half-drunk bottle of whiskey. He pulled out the cocaine and formed two lines with a razor blade he kept with the rest of his goodies. He brought the mirror to his nose and snorted them simultaneously. He could feel the headache and pain drift away. After a moment of relief he ran to the trailer door and flung it open. He could see Fred walking away and he yelled, “Nothing will stop this operation, you hear me, nothing!”
Fred nodded and walked over to a crew who had already assembled.
“Alright guys, you heard the boss. We gotta find out if someone lives in that cabin or not. Frankly, I don’t think he cares if someone does or not. We at least ought to warn whoever might live there,” said Fred.
There were nods all around and they mounted up. The cabin was twelve miles from where the office was located. They drove through the rough forestry roads and had to walk in about a mile to where the scouts located the cabin. Fred and his men walked up on the cabin and it didn’t look like anyone was home.