August walked into the hallway. His father was coming from the opposite direction.
“August,” Patrick said.
August stopped.
“Fuck you,” August muttered.
“Dammit, August, I did NOT raise you to act this way!”
“You barely raised me, at all.”
Patrick stepped up to him. “I won’t let you talk to me that way.”
“Yeah? And what are you going to do about it?”
Patrick shoved August back. August was stunned, but his expression turned into a slight smile. “Just like yourold self. I guess that ‘godliness is holiness’ crap was bullshit.”
August balled his fist. He pulled back to swing and—
Kevan grabbed his arm.
“August, stop!”
Patrick looked at Kevan, the anger leaving his eyes.
“I’m-I’m sorry,” he said.
He turned and walked off. August tugged his arm free of Kevan.
“Why in the hell are you always starting shit?” Kevan was angry. He had the same angry eyes of their father.
“You don’t understand.”
“Understand what? Huh? That dad is trying to talk to you, trying to be a better man and you’re throwing it in his face? He’s a good man.”
“You don’t know what the gods have done to him.”
“I don’t give a damn about any of this god bullcrap. You’re using that as an excuse. I just know that he’s my father and he raised me, and that he’s your father, too.”
Kevan thrust a finger into August’s chest and said, “Dad’s not the only one getting tired of your shit, August.”
Kevan walked off. August watched him walk away.
“Shit.”
…
It was a few hours later, August lay on his bed. Thinking. Maybe he should apologize to Kevan. He was never going to apologize to his father. He didn’t have it in him, but maybe he wouldn’t curse him out in the middle of the hallway anymore.
That would be a first step.
His mother yelled, “Dinner is ready!” from the kitchen.
He sat up and rubbed his wrist. As always, it was him versus the world. His phone rang. It was Sara.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Au-August?” Her voice was trembling. August stood to his feet.
“What?”
“This isn’t happening.”
“Sara, what?!”
Sara was trembling to the point of tears. In front of her was the monument. There was her brother’s body, naked, hung from the pillar, decorated with flowers. The maggots had eaten out his eyes but the rest of his body was pristine despite the bugs that gnawed into him, having an everlasting feast. The smell stung her nose.
Under the pillar was a stone that stated his crime.
“Garrett Isador, Betrayer of He, violator of the commandments, enemy of the human race, is to be displayed to show the mercy and the wrath of the gods. Forever preserved by the power of Queen. He is in his heaven, all is well in the world.”
August double-checked his phone’s screen when she didn’t reply. She was still on. He heard her cries over the phone.
“Garrett … Garrett is dead.”
August stumbled onto his bed.
“What?” he asked in disbelief.
“It’s the gods, they killed him.”
August didn’t answer. Thousands of thoughts ran through his head.
“I need you. Please. I need you. August, where are you?” Sara pleaded.
The phone fell from his hand.
“August…”
He grabbed a pillow and yelled into it.
“August, please answer me!”
He got up and picked up his phone.
“I’m going to get answers.”
His father worked for Ifor, he worked for the gods.
He had a part in this.
…
It was only a few minutes later, August was packing only a single bag. A bag of everything he needed. He placed a Glock in it. His father’s.
“He won’t be needing this.”
The only thing this town had was bad memories. He’d meet up with Sara near the train-yard soon. They had to escape, they had to leave this town and never come back. They needed to leave this place forever.
“August!” his mother yelled for him. He glanced at the door. He could leave and never come back.
Or he could get answers. Sara would never forgive him if she knew he had a chance to get answers.
August walked into the dining room. The table was set for a nice meal, with roasted chicken, potatoes, gravy and greens. His delusional happy family dinner-time. His family sat around it, waiting for him. His mother looked up at him.
“About time, we already had prayer without you.” Why’d she say that? She knew he didn’t pray any more. Why pray when He was the one creating all their problems?
She figured if he didn’t pray for himself then she’d pray for him. He loved her for that. After tonight though, she’d have to pray for a lot of things.
He sat and they started to eat.
Half-way through the meal, August stared into his plate, thinking of what to say. Wondering how to call out his father for what he thought he’d done. He knew Patrick had played a part in Garrett’s death. He always had a part in everything.
“Well, you never visit anymore, Kevan,” Barbara said.
“I work long hours for crap pay. Besides, why jump on me? What about August?” Kevan threw the blame.
Barbara said, “He has an excuse, yours isn’t good enough.”
“All Kevan does is hang out with his friends at the bar,” Patrick said.
“The Skullet right? What a disgusting place.” Barbara grimaced.
“It’s not that bad, mom.”
Patrick said, “Hey now, I used to be a regular there when I was younger and dumber remember? In fact, Barbara and I had some fun times there.”
Barbara smiled. “Oh yes, now I remember. We used to stay there all night and dance to some Marv, and then—”
“Okay! Guys! I’m changing the subject. Dad!” Kevan sighed. “You said you had a big announcement?”
“Oh! Yes I do.”
August was still lost in his own thoughts. The bastard who sat across from him had killed his best friend.
Patrick wiped his face with a napkin. “I was recently promoted to head votary of the Sotira headquarters.”
Barbara cheered and clapped.
Patrick continued, “We can finally move up in this world.”
“Head what?” Kevan asked.
August spoke, “Head votary, the top sheep for the gods. The sheep that rats out to the wolves where the human watering holes are.”
Patrick’s face reddened. “Why the hell don’t you just shut your mouth!? We were having a nice discussion for once and you just had to butt in!”
Barbara said, “Patrick!”
“Tell them what you had to do to become head, Dad.”
Patrick clutched his table cloth. “I do what I have to do to provide for this family and if you keep up—”
“Keep up what!?” August yelled.
Patrick stood to his feet.
Barbara shouted, “August, Patrick, stop!”
Patrick was about to blow, “I-ll—”
“Garrett’s dead!” August yelled.
Patrick stopped, he looked down. He was caught. August knew by the look in his father’s eyes that he did have something to do with his death. He killed the only friend he had.
Patrick sat down.
“Garrett is dead and I know who killed him.”
Kevan was trying to take in the situation. “What! He’s dead?”
“Strung up in the middle of this fucking town like some goddamn monkey.”
Kevan looked to his father, “How in the hell did I not know about that?”
Patrick said, “You never go over there.” He adjusted his position in his seat and placed his hands on the tabl
e. Acting like he was open and friendly, when he’d killed a man. He was going to talk in a calming, understanding tone. But August knew the act was a lie.
“You have to understand, August. He was very outspoken about the gods. He and his family rebelled against them. He would’ve destroyed this town and the purpose we were made for.”
August said, “And Sara …“
“She’s fine. She left before it was too late. No harm will come to her. I promise. But her brother … just … just sometimes a dog has to be put down.”
“How? How could you?”
“It was an order from the highest authority of Ifor. It had to be done. I cannot disobey them, August.”
Patrick could’ve done a lot of things. He could’ve worked a different job, he could’ve called in sick, he could’ve done anything.
“You are the same monster that you were before.”
August got up and went for the hallway.
“August!” Patrick went after him. “August! The only reason I told you is because you cared for him and because I care for you!”
He tried to grab August’s arm, but August pulled away.
“Leave me alone!”
August threw a punch but Patrick countered and struck back. August stumbled back. “I guess you didn’t forget everything.”
August charged and tackled him into the dining room. Patrick fell against the table as August’s fist wailed into him. Patrick didn’t fight back. He only tried to block his face. August’s fists were not stopping.
Barbara grabbed and pulled on August but he pushed her off and continued to beat his father senseless. Kevan just stared at all of this. He had no clue what to do. His family was tearing apart at the seams.
Patrick kneed August in the gut and pushed him off. Patrick got up and ran into the living room, going for the door.
August caught his leg and Patrick fell. August turned him onto his back and climbed on top of him.
He unleashed a volley of punches to his face.
“You bastard!” August screamed.
The punches intensified, not stopping once bone and cartilage broke the skin.
“You never cared for me!” August yelled.
Blood spattered onto the floors and August.
“You never cared about anyone!”
Blood splattered on August’s face.
“You’re a fucking liar,” his last shout quieted as his adrenaline fell. He pulled one final punch and stopped. His father’s face was caved in. What had he done? August stared at his bloodied hand.
A moan sputtered from his father’s mouth. He leaned in to listen—
August was slammed off of Patrick by Kevan. Kevan looked at his father.
“What in the hell did you do?!”
August threw Kevan into the dining room and ran for the door.
“You fucker!” Kevan yelled for him and gave chase.
August ran out the door and into the woods. Kevan ran after him but stopped when he heard his mother scream and ran back into the house.
His mother held his father’s head, crying. She tried to wake him. But with all the blood on the carpet, it was obviously useless. He was dead. She screamed to him, “Kevan, call an ambulance!”
Kevan looked back to the woods. August was gone. There was only one place he could go.
…
Red and blue lights twinkled in the window. Kevan sat on his parent’s couch, staring at the blood-stain on the floor. Paramedics zipped up his father’s body bag and wheeled it out of the door.
There was a glass gun rack in front of him. He was counting the rifles and hand guns, thinking. Five rifles and four handguns. There was supposed to be five of each. One of the pistols was gone. August.
Kevan had stood there doing nothing while his brother killed their father. He’d done nothing at all. He could’ve stopped him. He could’ve stopped the fight but instead, because he hesitated, his father was gone.
August needed to atone for his actions. Kevan couldn’t hesitate again.
…
Kevan ran through the woods with a rifle on his back. The only thing leading him into the night was a far-off light peeking through the trees. There was only one place August would go, where nobody would be. The abandoned train-yard. A place that was once prospering but had since been shut down by Ifor.
The light became bigger as he approached it and broke through the trees.
Little spots of light glanced over the horizon. The sun was setting. Down an open field was the train-yard and on the edge were August and Sara, arguing.
Kevan ran toward them. He might be able to catch them off guard if he ran fast enough. He heard what they were arguing about as he approached.
“Dammit, Sara, they might catch us because of you!”
“I needed to get a few things, okay! Don’t—”
She paused and stared at Kevan as he approached them, gun drawn.
August said, “Go to the car.” She didn’t move. “Now!”
She ran to the car, but she wasn’t the one Kevan wanted. August stood only twenty feet away from him, across a train track.
“I guess we’re done with our little traditions already. I actually enjoyed it.”
“Dad is dead.”
A train siren wailed in the distance, coming closer. But Kevan ignored it. It was the only working track in the yard and the train never stopped.
Kevan continued, “Don’t you understand that?”
“You don’t understand a damn thing. This was the god’s doing.”
“Always with that bullshit, August. Gods this! Gods that! Why in the fuck don’t you account for your own shit? Account for your own fucking mistakes for once!”
The train was closing in. Kevan could see it in his peripheral vision, he needed to do something. He couldn’t hesitate again. They were still separated by the track.
“It’s all your fault. He was a good man and he’s dead because of your bullshit!”
“So what? What you going to do, Kevan? Shoot me?”
Kevan stepped toward him, rifle raised. August pulled out a Glock and Kevan stopped.
August said, “If you’re going to become an enemy of the state then you better come correct. Back on the other side of the tracks.”
Kevan backed up slowly. Never lowering his aim. The train was only a couple of hundred feet away.
The siren wailed in Kevan’s ears. He needed to fire, but could he kill his own brother? The train closed in, only a few more feet.
August lowered his gun as the train was only inches from passing.
Kevan fired.
The train wailed by. It took a full minute for it to pass and by the time it cleared, August was gone. With some of his blood left on the ground.
…
Kevan walked into a bar, the Skullet. It was a dirty, grimy place. It had a dark atmosphere and the oddly dark corners accounted for a lot of sexual assault reports. But when Kevan needed to unwind, it was his place. Tonight, the place was empty. Good. He didn’t want to talk to anyone.
Kevan sat at the bar and motioned to the bartender; he made him whisky on the rocks without a word. Maybe he did go to this place too much. He took a sip of his drink as a woman walked in.
He didn’t want to think about what just happened. He was tired. He could mourn later.
The woman sat next to him. Kevan glanced at her before staring back into his drink. Nothing special.
The woman asked, “Hey bartender, can I have your martini special?”
The bartender nodded and started to make her drink.
She stared at Kevan. He looked back at her. On second thought, she was far prettier than he thought at first glance. Her blue eyes pierced through her freckled face, an understated beauty. She kept running her hands through her brunette hair.
Every time Kevan would look up from his drink she was looking at him, staring at him. Today was not the day to play games.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“No…
it’s just that I’m new to town and there’s nothing to do in this one horse place … everyone is so hostile.”
“That’s because it’s a shitty place.”
She adjusted in her seat, taking sips of her martini special.
Kevan continued, “Once you’ve been here long enough though, that hard shell everybody has cracks off. And only then could you see that under all that hostility was really a dead bird.”
“Ha ha, that was somewhat witty. You seem lively enough. My name is Luna. Care to show a girl around?”
“That easy, huh?”
“Don’t get any ideas. I have mace.”
Kevan laughed.
They spoke for hours, Kevan lost in her words and beauty. She lost in his charm. A few hours later and a few more drinks, a couple of empty glasses sat in front of them. Kevan felt toasty.
“It’s hard being an artist, you know,” Luna said. She was a painter, traditional and digital.
“Well, what are you going to do about it?” Kevan sipped on his fourth glass of whiskey.
“How about we get out of this dump and go to your place?”
She placed a hand on his leg.
“How about yours?”
Kevan slammed Luna against her apartment walls as they kissed. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Their tongues locked in a waltz. Luna pulled away long enough to say, “Bedroom!”
They worked their way to the bedroom and slammed the door.
…
It was the next morning. Kevan sat down on the couch at his parent’s place. His clothes and hair a mess from the previous night. Luna’s pink lipstick still smeared on his cheeks and neck.
The house was still destroyed, broken glass everywhere, food slowly rotting on the dining room table and floor. And way too much blood still on the floor. The cops didn’t clean shit. There was still a lot to do.
He looked at a picture frame over the fireplace. It was the only frame his mother put back up. A cracked family photo of them, all young and happy. It was the last time they all had genuine smiles on their faces.
2
Past and Future Reflections
God of thunder, that was what most people called him, that and now, the god of war. He hated that name, god of war. Svante contemplated his new position, his new job.
The Men Who Killed God (Sinner of the Infinite Book 1) Page 2