The Black Death

by Aric Davis

  “So where we headed?” Danimal asked, and Free gave him a smile before turning back to Matt, the swampy rot of his neck glistening in the moonlight.

  “We’re going to Luther’s.”

  “Aw, Free, you serious?”

  The tone in Danimal’s voice had the hair on Matt’s neck at attention almost immediately. Danimal hadn’t been scared pulling into Randy’s, but whoever Luther was, he apparently commanded more respect than a psychopathic hophead.

  “Should I be worried?” Matt asked in a tone that sounded as if he really was a little concerned, but he was as happy as could be to hear Danimal concerned. If the man kept sputtering off names, tonight could be the end of it. The phone and a who’s who list could go a long way for Sheriff Frank, as long as Matt kept his wits about him.

  “Nah,” said Free, “nothing much to worry about from Luther. Danimal here’s just a might bit superstitious. Fact of the matter is, old Luther’s spot is where we always ought to be picking up the flake, especially in the sort of quantities them whores need. It’s a little bit out of the way, even for here. You want another beer?”

  “Sure,” said Matt, not wanting one at all, “keep them coming. Like you said, it’s going to be a long night.”

  “Damn straight,” said Free, opening a bottle for Danimal and setting it in the cup holder before passing one back to Matt and then finally getting a bottle for himself. “You just go ahead and nurse these suds. We’ll be there in no time.”

  ***

  Luther’s place was on a road that had been cleared, paved, and then forgotten. As they pulled up to the place, Matt felt the air escape his chest between his teeth. Danimal was freaked out for a good reason.

  “Here we are,” said Free. “Let’s hope he’s not too fucked up.”

  Trying not to think about the last stop, Matt grabbed his bag and got a good look at the place from the van’s still-bright headlights.

  Luther’s place had been a Lutheran church, but the an had fallen off the sign ages ago, and now the building just said Luther on the front of it. Matt wondered if that was where Luther took his name or if the sign was what had made him pick the building to squat in. The roof looked as though it had suffered some fire damage, had at least partially caved in, and had later been repaired by whatever equipment was at hand, which was not limited to boards, and appeared to include a few tree branches and ratcheting straps.

  Free walked to the door as though he were more than comfortable just walking inside, but Matt couldn’t help but feel apprehensive about not only standing in the ramshackle structure, but also catching its resident unawares. Matt followed Free into the church turned home, with Danimal at his heels.

  The inside of the building made the outside look like a palace. The smell of animals was omnipresent, and Matt saw several cats diving to safety as they walked through what must have once been the church’s parlor.

  After passing through another door, this one heavy and made of oddly well-maintained oak, they entered what would have been the chapel of the former Lutheran church. At the still-standing dais was Luther, looking over them as if he were expecting them to walk in at exactly that moment, and on the podium was a still-smoldering glass pipe.

  It took all of Matt’s power to keep walking forward as Free ran to the dais to give Luther a hug. Danimal’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to look at the fireplug of a man. Danimal was giving him a look that said, Give it a minute. Matt obliged and turned his attention back to the front of the church.

  If Free’s neck was an indication that he was starting to rot, Luther was a very clear picture of where that was heading. Meth smoke was pouring out of his nose, mouth, empty eye socket, and several holes in his throat. The man looked as if he were falling apart. But only Matt had a true glimpse into this madness. The others couldn’t see it, at least not the way he did.

  Luther talked to Free by the podium while Matt waited with Danimal by the back of the church. Matt assumed they were talking about the stranger who had been introduced to this den of insanity, and after a few moments, Luther and Free began to walk toward them. Cats bathing themselves in the row between the pews scattered at their approach, making Matt wonder if the animals could sense what was headed toward them.

  “Free says you’re a stand-up dude,” said Luther, “and that’s good enough for me. You understand what you’re going to be up to?” Luther’s mouth was torn on both corners, making his brown-and-black-flecked teeth visible through tattered cheeks, the sight of it reminding Matt of a flag that had been left hanging far too long.

  “Yeah, he knows we’re picking up some shit,” said Free, “and then delivering some shit, and that’s about all he needs to know. That right?”

  “Yeah,” said Matt, “I’m just looking to kill some time with some down dudes while I wait for my scoot to get well. Soon as I get parts, I’m gone. Unless, of course, financial obligations force my hand to stick around for a bit.” Matt smiled at the last part and even managed to hold the grin as the three men grinned back at him.

  “Well,” said Luther, “enough jibber-jawing. How much Bucky say you needed to take to Sally’s?”

  When Luther mentioned Bucky, he gave Matt a sideways glance that Matt just caught. He was being tested, and instead of doing what Luther would have expected of a snitch, Matt was looking over his shoulder, at the pipe.

  “We’ll get to that. You head on outside with Matt, Danimal,” said Free. “Luther and I got to discuss a couple of things.”

  Matt followed Danimal outside, unable to help but wonder what in the world Free was concerned about letting him hear when he was already included in a drug deal. Matt followed Danimal to the van, and when they were back inside, he sat with his bag on his lap.

  “Don’t take it the wrong way,” said Danimal from the front seat, his eyes in the rearview mirror and locked on Matt’s. “There’s a bunch of talk I don’t get to hear, neither, and I’ve known some of these dudes my whole life. Bet yer ass I know what they’re talking about, though—Randy freaking out. That’s been happening a lot, and not always to dudes that burn all the time, sometimes to first-timers. Bucky says that everything like this has risks. I just wonder how much he’s putting on his rep. After all, once your eyes go black, you’re done. They don’t get right again.”

  “Was Randy sick before?”

  “No, man,” said Danimal. “He was fine, way fine. Liked to party, fuck, and fight. He was a good dude. The black just did him in.”

  ***

  Free met them in the van a few minutes later. He had a package under his arm and looked stressed-out about something. Seeing that at least Danimal had noticed the worry on his face, Free gave them both a smile that looked almost like a wince.

  “We’re going to come up here one of these times, and he’s going to be turned,” said Danimal. “I know it. Just like Randy and Big Mike and Dolan—”

  “Cut the shit,” said Free in a voice that was instantly less amiable than the one he’d had in Luther’s. “Luther is doing fine. He’s always been a little off.”

  “You saw where he was standing, and you know what that means,” said Danimal. “He was up there giving a little sermon, and the only reason he stopped is ’cause Bucky told him that preaching to all them cats would be bad for business if word got out. Not to mention, did you see those little fuckers run from him? If a cat knows you’re going nuts, that’s a whole new level—”

  “I said cut the shit. Drive to Sally’s so we can drop off the skag and get out of there.”

  “You don’t want to stop and party?”

  “No. Just drive.”

  Matt stayed quiet through the exchange. Whatever balance this little Redneck Mafia might have had, it was coming off the wheels, and quickly. He felt sure that Free was regretting taking him along on the trip. It had been the idea of a high man who had been brought back down to earth, and Matt had no doubt that Free was concerned about what the still-mysterious Bucky might have to say about the
situation. He tried not to think about it as they crossed through more back roads, finally pulling onto a two-track that slowly turned into a field. At its center was a huge and ancient motor home, and floating in the air around it like drunken fireflies were the cherries of a dozen cigarettes.

  “You can’t smoke inside,” offered Danimal as an explanation, “at least not tobacco. Buck—” A sideways look from Free changed his words, and Danimal continued. “Some of the guys don’t like the way it makes the girls smell. They say it’s bad for business.”

  “Not that it much matters how they smell,” said Free, grinning, “bunch of whores barely need to be awake to show you a good time, and I’ve had myself some damn good times with some that weren’t with it at all.”

  “Why the trailer?” Matt asked it in a way that he hoped wouldn’t come off as too interested, just conversation.

  “So they can move it every so often,” said Free. “Keeps things that much safer.”

  “How do the customers know where they’re going to be?”

  “Well, either they can smell all that pussy from a distance,” said Free, “or we got something else worked out.” Danimal parked the van next to a trio of oversized pickup trucks and turned off the engine. Free patted his side and gave a look to Danimal, who returned the gesture. They’re both packing heat. Looking at Danimal’s face, Matt saw something else. They were nervous, too.

  Free and Danimal opened their doors at the same time, and Matt was out of the van after them, unzipping his duffel so that it was open and then slinging it over his shoulder.

  Free handed Danimal a package the size of a small pillow and then took a pistol from under his shirt. Watching him fumble with the snap on the holster, Matt could tell that as tough as the gun might make Free feel, he sure wasn’t all that comfortable with it. Free gave Matt a nod and said, “Let’s get to it. Matt, you pick up the rear.”

  Free led them from the makeshift parking lot closer to the trailer, the dancing fires of cigarettes drawing closer, and the silhouettes of men slowly taking form around them. They must have been becoming visible, too, because the men were all separating around Free, almost dancing away from the door to the middle of the trailer as their group passed. Free swung the door open to let Danimal inside and then nodded at Matt to follow.

  Matt walked inside the RV, and the stench was almost overpowering. Loud music was playing that had somehow been inaudible outside, and a man with a beer gut who was wearing a cowboy hat and holding an AR-15 stood in front of what appeared to be a bolted steel door with a slotted window cut into it.

  Time seemed to freeze as Matt, Free, and Danimal stood looking at the expressionless and well-armed guard, and then the man broke into a smile that Free returned. The two hugged and then bumped fists, and Matt looked at Danimal, who, while left out of the exchange, was grinning, though small beads of sweat were collecting on his upper lip.

  This might be the arrangement, but it’s not a comfortable one.

  The man with the rifle rapped his knuckles three times on the door, never turning away from them.

  “How’s it hanging, Freebird?” the man asked in a thick Southern drawl, a much more pronounced accent than either Free or Danimal carried in his voice, and it reminded Matt of some of his Southern travels.

  “Low and to the left, Henley. How you been?”

  “Busy. All this fucking takes some work, y’know?”

  “I can dig it. I got your crystal.”

  “You know that’s not my problem,” the man said, scowling. “She’ll be out soon enough.”

  As if on cue, the slot in the door opened. Matt caught a quick glimpse of a face behind it, and then several locks began turning from behind the door before it opened and the woman slid out.

  If Free was slowly rotting away and Luther was all but gone, this woman was the next level. Matt had a feeling that she would have been hideous looking even without the rot, but with it, she was horrible.

  She was dressed in Daisy Duke shorts meant to show the maximum amount of leg and a tight cropped top with a push-up bra, but the only thing getting pushed up was a pair of breast implants sliding around in festering wounds. Her face was done up with makeup but was rotting off her skull, looking almost as if it were sliding off inch by inch. Her eyes were sinking into her head, and her hair, dyed and highlighted, hung in damp spaghetti strands. Her walking and living was a mockery of all things dead. She walked up to Free and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “We brought you your stuff. More this time, too, just like you told Bucky your girls needed.”

  “My girls do need the black if they’re going to stick around and do like they’re told. Bucky tell you Jesse Ann went feral? Tore up a trucker real bad, ended up having to put him down and dig a hole.”

  “It was a real shame,” said Henley, standing now in front of the open door and looking even more alert.

  “You dig one for Jesse Ann, too?”

  “We was gonna—” said Henley as Sally interrupted him.

  “Then I got a better idea,” she said. “Henley butt-stroked her with his army gun, and we tied her down on a board, all spread out. We popped a muzzle on her, and she’s good as new. Some of the boys are having a throw-down with her in back, said it’s like fuckin’ a wildcat. I wouldn’t know what that’s like, but I think I get what they mean.” Sally paused, taking the package from Free and then tossing it hand to hand. “This feels light, Free, big-time. Send your boys outside, or tell them to get in line for one of the girls, don’t much matter to me which one. But you and me gotta talk in the office.”

  Henley stood aside as she walked back through the door into the rear of the RV and then took the offered pistol from Free before letting him pass as well.

  “You heard Mrs. Sally,” said Henley. “And besides, it ain’t a bad night out, so go on, get. Freebird will be back out soon enough.”

  Matt followed Danimal out the door and was beside himself to discover that, somehow, he was actually a little worried about Free. It was a ridiculous notion. The man was a horrible drug addict—he was slowly rotting away and contributing to all of the bad things happening here, but he also had an earnestness that Matt couldn’t help but appreciate. I’d still put my ax through his head if I had to, and will, when the moment comes, but damn if I don’t feel for the guy being locked in there with her.

  Danimal must have been feeling the same way as they left the trailer, because rather than wait by the door, he walked swiftly back to the van. Once they were there, he climbed into his seat, and Matt hopped into Free’s.

  “What’s going on in there?” Matt asked Danimal, and for once, he actually cared about the answer. It wasn’t just a probing inquiry to report back to the sheriff.

  “Nothing good,” said Danimal, “nothing good at all. Not for Free, not for us, not for nobody. I swear to God, if we’re low, I’m going to go fuckin’ kill Luther. I don’t care if he lives in a church. That ain’t no house of God anymore.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Can’t you call Bucky?” Matt said.

  “What did you say?” Danimal asked the question slowly, as if he really was wondering what Matt had asked him. In addition, Danimal looked almost scared, as though there was some detail Matt was missing in asking him to make the call, and it was a damn important one.

  “I asked if maybe you could call Bucky,” said Matt. “I don’t know if that’s possible, or something you can do, or if you even have his number, but if you can call, maybe he can help. He’s who’s in control of all of this, right?”

  “All what?” Danimal asked the question at the same time that he opened a beer with shaking hands, dropping the cap on the floor and then taking a long drink from the bottle.

  “All of this,” Matt said, spreading his arms. “All this meth stuff, the hookers in the RV, all the dirty stuff here—that’s his operation, right?”

  “Look, man,” stammered Danimal, “you’re new here, and just passing through. You don’t know some of t
he things going on behind the scenes here. Bucky’s been the dude for a long time, a big dude.”

  “But he’s not now?”

  “Hey,” said Danimal. “It’s not like that, and I couldn’t tell you exactly what’s up. Bucky is the man, but he’s been off. Big-time off.”

  “So he can’t help?”

  “That doesn’t matter. None of this conversation matters. Free is going to explain to Sally that Luther, being the dope fiend that he is, stole some of her delivery and smoked it. Just wait. He’ll be out any minute.”

  “He might and he might not,” said Matt. “That outcome assumes he tells them that Luther did it and that they believe him. Has Free ever come up light before?”

  “I don’t know, man.”

  Matt leaned across the center console between the two bucket seats in the front of the van, close enough that he could smell the beer on Danimal’s breath and look dead into his eyes.

  “You don’t smoke the black flake, do you?”

  “Hell yes. I love the shit.”

  “No, you don’t. And you don’t need to lie about it. I know you’re clean. You might like to drink, smoke dope, and maybe even do the regular blue speed, but you don’t dig on the black, never even tried to do it, as a matter of fact. I know that. So level with me, Danimal, and do it quick. Free might need us in there.”

  “Goddamn, Matt. The stuff you’re saying could get me killed. Maybe even get both of us killed. You’re not from here. You don’t know how stuff works. Look, Bucky used to be the man around here, but you knew it because he was always around, always partying. Everyone loved that dude, even the people he leaned on a little too hard.”

  “What if Bucky knows the black is bad but doesn’t care?”

  “Man, this has to stop. Let’s go over and see if Henley knows how much longer Free is going to be. I can’t talk about this shit, I told you.”