by David Wood
“You got spirit,” the redneck to Darius’s right said.
“The ancient one will enjoy eating it,” the one to his left finished.
Darius barely had time to fear for his life before all three men moved in and pounded on him. The rednecks were strong, and within the first few swings they'd pummeled him to the ground with punches so powerful they sent shockwaves of anguish through his mind. He swung back instinctively, but his movements were wild and frantic. What few hits he landed meant nothing. The rednecks tightened their circle, punching and kicking in an endless stream of punishment. His arms broke in meaty snaps, sending bile up his throat from the searing pain, and then they smashed his leg to dust. The agony soon became overwhelming, and in the small part of his mind that he still had control of he wished like hell he would just black out. At least then he wouldn’t feel pain anymore.
With detached cruelty the three men pounded him to mush, their hits and kicks delivered with a terrible rhythm. By the time they finished Darius was little more than a bleeding bag of broken bones barely clinging to consciousness.
As though hearing things from another world, Darius noted the stool in the attendant booth creak as the kid stood up. “You gonna take him to the mine?”
“Yup,” the first redneck replied, his jaw popping as he spoke. “Ash will want him before he bleeds out.”
Darius could only watch through eyes nearly swollen closed and fear what new terror was coming as the redneck grabbed him by his shirt collar and dragged him to the Dodge pickup. Picking him up like a ragdoll, the redneck lifted him and tossed him into the truck bed. Darius’s head smashed against rusted metal, and a groan of pain gurgled past his broken lips. It was the last sound he ever made. When the world went dark and his heart squeezed its last beat, he was thankful.
Chapter 9
When Kyle heard the door next to his room open and close, he turned off the ugly television – nothing but stupid morning talk shows were on anyway – gathered up his keys, put a light jacket on, and left. Outside he found Maya standing next to his rented Jeep. To his disappointment she wore jeans and a thin green sweater over a white t-shirt instead of the skirt and revealing blouse from the day before. But, with a figure like hers, even a burlap sack would have been sexy. The leather hiking shoes laced to her feet and lumpy bag of equipment slung over her shoulder said that today she was all business.
“So where are we off to first?” he asked as he unlocked the passenger door and opened it for her. He pulled his jacket collar up to keep the rain from falling down his back.
Maya smiled as she leaned in and took the offered seat. “Let’s go to the town library.”
It had been a long time since he'd been out there, but the drive was easy enough to remember. “That I can do.” He closed the door and walked around the vehicle. After getting in next to her, he buckled his seatbelt and started the engine. But, before he disengaged the break, he pulled out his phone and said, “Give me one second. Need to call Taylor.” He then opened his contacts list and pressed the line for Taylor's cell phone. Ring tones chirped against his ear, but eventually he was dumped to voice mail.
“No answer?” Maya asked.
Kyle shook his head and redialed. When he got her voice mail again, he hung up. “That's odd. Kids these days might as well have their phones surgically implanted on them.”
“Maybe her school doesn't allow cell phones. It is almost nine in the morning on a school day, don't forget. She probably has it turned off, or it's on vibrate and she can't answer it right now.”
Kyle felt like a dumbass as he opened his text message app and started typing. Of course Maya was right. On his phone he wrote, “HEY SIS, BE BY AT 11 TO TAKE YOU TO LUNCH. LOVE YA.” When he hit the SEND button he felt better.
“Okay, you have me all to yourself for the next several hours.” He turned his head and backed out of the parking slot.
Rain splattered the Jeep as they left the motel and headed toward what passed for downtown Stillwater. Even though it was morning on a week day, the roads were nearly empty save for the occasional truck wheeling from one unknown location to another, their tires spraying watery tails behind them. It was a dying town, but its demise seemed to be coming sooner rather than later.
“I guess if you aren’t one for hustle and bustle, this is the town for you.” Maya stared at the vacant asphalt around them.
“No kidding. Just add that to the list of weird shit goin on.”
As disconcerting as the lack of life was, it did make the drive to the Stillwater Public Library a quick one. When they pulled up the sad looking brick building, the parking lot was just as empty as the roads.
Maya rifled through her purse, mumbling as she pulled out and then redeposited a moleskin notepad, pens of various colors, her cell phone, and an audio recorder. “It looks like I have everything I need. I’ve done this sort of research before so let me handle things. You can just sit back and watch the magic.”
Chuckling, Kyle nodded at her before opening his door and getting out. She followed him into the rain seconds later. Together they walked up the three concrete steps leading to the library’s front door. Raised to be a gentleman, he opened the door and waited for her to go through first.
The inside of the library reflected the town around it – dark, dingy, and dying. Wooden shelves stood around the walls laden with dusty books, while racks held limp magazines, bent and ready to fall. A green Formica counter stood on the right, its top chipped and faded. No one stood behind it, but noises came through a doorway beyond it. On the pebbled glass was stenciled LIBRARIAN’S OFFICE. A small bell sat on the middle of the counter.
“Allow me.” Kyle headed to the counter, hoping he wasn’t walking into another nasty encounter. “This is my town, after all.” He rang the bell when he stood before it. The clang that echoed through the library was louder than he’d anticipated, the sharp sound making his teeth ache.
The sound of shuffling papers in the office stopped, and all fell silent for several long seconds, but then plodding steps clomped toward them. Kyle felt an irrational fear build in his chest, and he stared at the doorway. Maya stepped close behind him and took one of his hands in hers with a grip so tight it was painful. A second later a shadow slid through the doorway, a dark and twisted thing of darkness. What followed it struck Kyle like a hard slap across the cheeks.
Ms. Kirkland had been old when he was a boy, her face a craggy moon above him as he borrowed his first book, but she’d always had a smile and a kind word for everyone who passed through her library. To kids old people seemed scary, with their wrinkled skin and angry words, but not Ms. Kirkland. Never Ms. Kirkland.
The bent old woman who walked through the office seemed a bit like her – the same gray hair, the same blue and white gingham blouse – but that was where the similarities ended. Gone was Ms. Kirkland’s powered face and broad smile. Now her skin was nearly the same color as her hair, which hung from her head like a wet mop, and her thin lips were pressed into a scowl. Gone was her pleasant plumpness, the old bows and bends shaved off so much that her bones seemed to press against her skin like twigs waiting to rip through a burlap sack. She looked sick and frail, ready to fall apart at the seams, but when she leveled her pale eyes on Kyle and Maya it was with a gaze they could feel press down on them.
“What in hell do you want?” Ms. Kirkland asked, her lips falling backward over toothless gums that turned her mouth into a murky cave.
Kyle cleared his throat and tried to find a smile to ease the moment. It took a few seconds to locate it. “Ms. Kirkland, I doubt you remember me, but I’m Kyle Mason. I used to come here when I was a boy.”
“Mason, huh?” The old woman looked him up and down like she was sizing up a side of beef. “Ain’t but one family in this town with that name. You must be Gus’s boy; the one that run off like he was too good for this place.”
“That’s not exactly it.” Part of him wanted to correct her, to tell her his side of the story,
but most of him wanted to turn and flee the library with all the speed he could muster. Ms. Kirkland’s deterioration was plainly evident, but as he stood before her he felt that it went far beyond the flesh. Something had changed her, and as much as he hated giving credence to all the spiritual mumbo jumbo he’d heard recently he couldn’t help but sense that her rottenness went straight to the soul. This wasn’t the woman he’d known. This was someone else, a creature of hate and spite walking in her skin, draining her dry of all the goodness she’d once had. It sickened him, and he wished he could get back in the rented Jeep and leave West Virginia far in his rearview once more.
But he couldn’t.
“Don’t split hairs with me, boy. And frankly, I don’t give two craps.” Her scowl impossibly deepened. “Now like I said, what the hell you want?”
Kyle decided to let the pleasantries go – Stillwater and its residents seemed beyond niceties now –and got to the point. “We need to look at whatever archives you have for the town. Old newspapers, books written about it, that sort of thing.”
A gray eyebrow rose on Ms. Kirkland’s forehead like a storm cloud. “And do you or your half-breed girlfriend there have a library card? Don’t bother answering. You don’t. You ain’t residents of this town, so you won’t be getting one neither. Now why don’t you two get the hell out of here and go back where you came from before I call the sheriff for harassment?”
When the librarian insulted Maya, Kyle’s instinct was to snatch the old woman up by her collar and shake her until her hair fell out – which, given its thinness, it probably already was – but Maya didn’t rise to the slur or show any sort of anger. He admired her for that.
“Do you offer a temporary card?” she asked, her tone smooth. “Most libraries do.”
“Well we ain’t most libraries.” The scowl she gave Maya could have withered a tree.
“Couldn’t we at least look…” Kyle began.
“You ain’t wanted, so get out of here. Now!”
Blood boiled in Kyle’s chest and his hands curled into fists, but Maya placed a hand on his arm before he could take a step or say anything.
“We understand. Sorry to have bothered you.”
Maya tugged at Kyle’s arm, and when he looked her way her expression was sincere and apologetic.
What the fuck? What’s she got to be sorry for? That old bitch is the one who should be sorry.
“Save it.” Ms. Kirkland gave a dismissive wave of her liver-spotted hand. “And don’t come back.”
Kyle let himself be pulled away from the library counter, but he made sure he didn’t leave without saying something. “At least I’m not going to die alone in this shithole town.”
Gray lips curled like a dog growling as the librarian grimaced at them. As the door opened and he was pulled into wet outside air, the old woman got the last word. “Don’t be so sure.”
“What was that about?” he asked as the door closed. “I thought we needed information.”
Maya glanced around the building, then up and down the street. “We do. But there’s more than one way to skin this particular cat. Come on.”
When she grabbed his arm again and pulled him toward the far end of the building, Kyle gave up trying to understand. She looked like she had an idea, which made her one up on him. They walked around the library and came to a rear door. An ancient Ford Galaxy sat rusting down toward the other end. Maya took the doorknob in hand and gave it a gentle twist. It was locked.
“Was that the sort of cat skinning you meant?” He wanted to laugh, but his mood was far too dark for it.
Maya gave him a bemused look, then lowered her purse to the ground and reached into it. After a few seconds she came up with a small leather case. He’d seen enough movies to know what it was even as she unzipped it, but when she opened it and laid it flat next to her purse he still couldn’t believe it.
“No, this is,” she replied as she nodded at her set of lock picks.
Maya looked around, checking for prying eyes, before she lowered her knees down on wet concrete. A door, metal with reddish-brown paint flaking off it and rusting, stood before them. The doorknob and deadbolt were made by Schlage, and if she had to guess, she figured them for five-pin standard locks. Nothing she hadn’t handled before.
Thank God for cheap people and small town trust.
“Why in the hell do you have lock picks?” Kyle leaned over her like a mother hen trying to scold an errant chick. “Better yet, how do you even know how to use them?”
She picked up her tension wrench, which was really just a small L-shaped piece of metal, and set it inside the keyhole at the top. “I went through a long period of dating bad boys, and I picked up a few things along the way.” Applying a slight bit of pressure on the tension wrench to turn the lock ever so slightly, she then grabbed a small pick and inserted it beneath the wrench. With a practiced motion she raked the pick across the pins while adding more pressure to the wrench.
The lock didn’t turn.
“I think I hear a car coming.” Kyle stood up and walked a few feet away.
Focusing all her senses, she raked the pins again. Then again, this time more slowly. Nothing.
“Shit, they’re getting closer. If you’re really going to do that, then do it faster!”
She didn’t need the pressure, so she tuned him out, but not before she heard engine noise. In spite of the cool air and ever-present rain, beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. After taking a deep breath, she pushed the pick to the back of the lock and put her ear just above the knob.
“Maya, they’re practically parked back here!” He came back to stand behind her again.
Gently she wiggled the pick up and down. Tick! Keeping the tension wrench turned, she hastily moved to the second pin and wiggled the pick again. Tick!
“We have to go, Maya! I can see headlights!”
She pulled back to the third pin. Wiggle. Wiggle. Wiggle. Sweat dropped into her eyes, but she ignored it. Wiggle. Tick! Her hands started to shake, but she gritted her teeth and pushed away all her emotions. Her pick moved to the fourth pin. Wiggle. Wiggle. Tick!
“Let’s go! Let’s go!”
Exhaling sharply, Maya pulled the pick to the final pin. The tension wrench moved ever so slightly with each pin, and she knew she was close to turning it, so she wiggled the pick as if scraping away the gray stuff from a scratch off lottery card. Wigglewigglewigglewiggle! Tick!
“Oh shit, it’s a sheriff’s car! He’s gonna see us!”
As if by magic the pick slipped from the keyhole and the wrench twisted 180 degrees. The door opened into the building so quickly she almost fell forward. She reached blindly behind her while gathering up her purse and lock picks, grabbed Kyle’s arm, and jerked him as she threw herself inside the library. They both fell into a heap past the threshold. The door closed behind them with a pneumatic hiss.
“Holy shit.” Kyle’s voice shook. “That was close.”
Putting the picks back in their leather holder, Maya nodded. “Closer than you think. There was also a deadbolt. Thankfully no one locked it.”
Kyle stared at her with wide eyes. “You mean… Oh man. We could have still been out there, plain for God and everyone else to see.”
“Could have, but we’re not.” The leather case went back to the bottom of her purse. “Let’s be happy for small favors and do what we came here to do.”
“Do?” He looked around, unsure what she meant. After a couple of seconds he realized where they were and stared at her again. “How did you know?”
Maya stood up and set her purse next to a microfiche machine. “Because I saw a sign for the archives room on the back wall of the library. Above it was an EXIT sign, letting me know there was a back way in. Now here we are.”
Laughter came from Kyle’s mouth in shallow huffs. “Can you also hack into the CSI, or Walmart?”
“I can barely upgrade my website, so no. Picking locks is about the extent of my criminal repertoire.”
>
Kyle walked to a chair and settled into it with a sigh. “Hey, don’t count yourself short. Breaking and entering ain’t small potatoes. If we get caught I’m sure you’ll be quite popular at the women’s prison. Maybe you’ll even be able to pick up a few more skills.”
Scarcely holding in her own laughter, Maya rifled through her purse again, looking for her notebook. When she had it she opened it to the first page with a folded over corner. TOWN KILLERS was written along the top. “Maybe you’re right, but while we wait to get caught why don’t you just sit there and look pretty while I do some research, m’kay?”
Kyle didn’t look thrilled, but at the moment she wasn’t too concerned. She had a lot of information to look up, and a stopwatch ticked loudly in her head. The old bitch librarian could come back there at any moment, and that would end their field trip right quick. Maya had no plans on being passed around a women’s prison like a pack of smokes.
As pretty as Maya was, there was only so much looking at her he could do in the glow of a microfiche machine before he grew bored. After what felt like forever he got up and looked around. Dozens of newspapers hung from wooden rods, stacks of magazines sat on shelves, and various microfiche drawers were pulled out from their cabinet in varying lengths. After a few seconds a shelf labeled LOCAL HISTORY drew his attention. Most of the books on it looked fairly new, but mixed among them were tomes with splitting spines and cracked leather bindings. Those drew his interest first.