Burning Sky

by R. S. Scott

  “Are you still having nightmares?” I ask her.

  “Yeah,” she confides.

  “What about?” I ask.

  Karen looks at me puzzled. “Umm, it’s just ugly, lots of twisted things.”

  “How?”

  “Getting beaten, really bad. Being tortured with fire, snakes. Giant black spiders and a hot branding iron. Like the one for cows and it’s so hot it’s orange, it burns, and it hurts,” she says.

  “Damn,” I say.

  “Getting raped,” she continues. “By this monster dressed in dried up human skin and these elk horns pointing out from his jaws.”

  I glare at Karen who sits with arms tightly folded. “Raped?”

  “I’m so scared and helpless. I’m just frozen still, and he’s laughing at me, spitting on me. I have this hay shoved in my mouth. He’s on top of me, and he’s so strong. I can’t open my mouth to scream. I’m just lying there. Helpless.”

  “Have you talked to Pastor about this?” I ask her.

  “No,” Karen says.

  “You should, you really should. That sounds like something the Nelsons would do. Who else would defile a person’s sleep like that?”

  “So, I then go hide behind Pastor? Come on,” she says.

  “He prays for your guns and now my guns. Have him pray over you, too,” I tell her.

  “Keller, it’s getting dark. Go home.” Karen gets up and gathers her paper plate, empty soda can, and used napkins. “Tomorrow is a big day.”

  “You going to talk to the Chief?” I ask her.

  “Yes.”

  “We’re losing elders left and right, what do you think about asking Taylor to stay at the church as well?” I ask Karen.

  “He’s too stubborn, but I’ll let you ask him when you get back with his granddaughter,” Karen says and nods to church staff as they walk by.

  “Yeah, we’ll con him into it,” I tell her.

  “Just be nice about it.” Karen points her finger at me as one would point a magic wand.

  “I’ll leave first thing in the morning. I’ll upload my report, as well.” I tell her.

  “How are you and Jess?” she asks.

  “I’m just trying to smooth things over, I guess. I didn’t think I’d get this involved in things up here,” I confide in Karen.

  “Well, this is the Rez. We’re not covered by the ‘In God we Trust’ proclamation that seems to keep the rest of America sane. Things fall apart out here.”

  I stopped twice for fuel and snacks on my way to Phoenix, Arizona. I stopped at the convalescent home in Flagstaff to visit the elder Christopher used as a resource. He’s a well-respected elder from Leupp area with a clouded history of rumored killings decades ago. He has been a feared man even amongst the dark practitioners. On a vicious, bumpy roar into dementia, he claims the world, as we know it, will burn. That the skies will burn a bright red.

  “Burning sky is upon us!” he proclaimed to me in Navajo, “The skies will burn as we all shall, burning sky is upon us! Our faith will crumble, as will our foundations! Burning sky is upon us! We will all surely die!” His voice human-like, but metallic somehow, reverberating somehow.

  “Sir,” I wave my hand to get his attention, “I’m Steve Keller from Dilcon area.”

  He looked at me and focused his cloudy gaze. “The end is coming. The great shame will subdue us. The great fire is coming. The dragon is coming,” he said and grasped my jacket. “Do you understand me, Son?”

  “Dragon?” My thoughts ran rampant, frantically piecing together the meaning of those specific Navajo words he was using. “Not the Great Giant, but the Dragon?”

  He shook my jacket sleeves. “The end has begun, can you feel it? Death is coming! We will all die! Our fears will strangle our children!” he shouts.

  “Yes, Sir.” I glanced around for a nurse to intervene. “Nurse?”

  “You…will kill your sons. Then die with them.” His gaze faded slowly. “You must spare them. Do not be deceived!”

  “Nurse!”

  His Navajo dialect was perfect, his pronunciations flawless for a man his age. It was only during moments of clarity that he saw me and recognized my attempt to converse. He called me his son and asked about his wife, who was washing clothes at the local laundromat. She needed to buy him more tobacco. I told him I would tell her about the tobacco. I shook his hand and thanked him for being a great father before continuing my odyssey to Phoenix.

  I drive disturbed by his proclamations. The encounter shakes my soul.

  “An end to all things, a dragon, and sons. Then death. My own death,” he had said. His convictions could not be denied, his Navajo words terrifying.

  I arrive at Rebecca’s host family’s house in north Phoenix as the afternoon traffic begins its slow creep. The family is all too willing to give up the child. I note the family dog wears a muzzle with drool oozing down from the muzzle tip. It barks as its entire torso moves in unhealthy jerks with each bark. The couple seems irritated and exhausted. Rebecca sits in the living room watching television.

  “Hi Rebecca, do you remember me? It’s your awesome uncle Steve.”

  She says nothing.

  “Rebecca?”

  She turns to me and says, “The end is coming.”

  I stumble slowly, “Who told you that? Who?”

  “The old man did,” she says and returns her gaze to the television set.

  I return to the host family huddling in their kitchen, “What’s going on?”

  “Sir, now is a good time.” The wife seems overly timid. “Please.”

  “I’ll be back around 5:30 pm to pick her up if you could gather up all her things, please.”

  “Oh, we’ll be ready.” The wife seems overly enthusiastic. The husband nods his head. I leave the host family and head to my home.

  What the hell is going on? I think.

  Jess greets me at the door with a short hug and a kiss on the cheek in a cordial fashion. “I’m sorry, I had a bad day, I’m sorry,” she says seeming weary.

  I take her hand and kiss her as I hold her close. “Hi Jess, it’s OK.” Our home is a mess. “Where is Max?”

  “The neighbors have her this week.”

  “The entire week? Why?”

  “Last week she started barking at the TV, then at the garage, then at the stupid hallway, then just freaked out and tried to bite the mail delivery guy.”

  “Jess, wait. What? Max has been barking?” I ask her.

  “It was really annoying, but she’s OK now. She’s happy, probably just stressed or something.”

  “When did this start?” I ask her.

  “Last Friday I think…Are you hungry? I can make you something?”

  I recall the very disturbing conversation with Rebecca’s host family, the violent dog, and the unexplainable activities. The muzzle on the barking dog shuttering in continued unhealthy jerks lingers fresh in my memory. I recall the subtle eeriness of stepping into their home, the coldness of discontent and upheaval.

  My skin goes cold, and my senses become alive. I storm into the garage and gaze about. The garage is empty save for the storage boxes at one end and a sink near the kitchen entrance. I storm back to the hall as I slowly start to panic. “This hallway? She was barking at this hall?” I point at an empty hallway. “This hall?”

  “Yes, right there,” Jess says.

  I glare at the hall. I struggle to keep calm. “There’s nothing here, nothing.” I go back to the garage. “What’s different? Nothing.” I storm back to the hallway. “Shit.”

  “Is everything OK?” Jess asks me.

  “No,” I say and storm back into the living room staring at the TV. I run my hands around the edges for anything, then on the windowsills, nothing. I scan the ceiling and walls. “Shit.” I spot the fake clock and lamp. “The cameras.”

  “You’re scaring me,” Jess says.

  I hustle to my study and turn on my computer. “The cameras.” Jess follows. I log into the motion detection
cameras, enabled times are from 11 pm to 5 am or whenever the home security system is activated. There are over a dozen entries, all motion detection entries. I review the recorded camera feeds.

  One instance shows an empty garage. Another shows an empty hallway between the living room and the kitchen, another of a drunken visitor ringing the doorbell. Lastly, the living room itself angled toward the television set. “There’s nothing here, nothing, what set off the motion detectors? What set off those detectors?” I wonder aloud.

  “What are you looking for?” Jess asks me.

  I pick a random motion detection event. Max walks by wagging her tail, next she runs in the opposite direction. Then with teeth bearing she slowly backs away barking. With an angry face she backs away from the television set, growling and biting at nothing.

  “Holy shit,” I say and feel a tangible fright enter the room. A darkened veil compresses.

  “Oh my God!” Jess’s voice breaks.

  The study room suddenly seems encapsulated in a dark lonely cold. I am aware with absolute certainty that we are not alone.

  “Jess.” Goosebumps form on my arms. “Stay close.” I pull her in front of me, away from the living room.

  “Oh my God.” Jess glances toward the living room and steps an inch closer to me. She looks down the lonely, darkened hall. “Oh my God.”

  “Jess, listen, can you stay with Hailey for a while?”

  “What is Max growling at?” She takes the computer mouse and selects the next entry. Max is no longer barking but is whimpering and whining. Only her tail is visible near the doorway.

  “Jess, can you stay with Hailey, please? Jess?” She lets go of the mouse and quietly turns toward the living room. “Jess?” She slowly backs into me and pulls my arm around her.

  “It’s not safe here anymore,” I tell her.

  “Can you walk me to get my things?” Jess asks timidly.

  “Yes,” I say and escort Jess to our bedroom. “Get enough clothes and stuff for several weeks.” I pull up our bed mattress and sit it vertically, leaning it against the headboard. “Hurry please.” I open my safe and grab my spare pistol and magazines loaded with 9mm hollow points.

  “I’m hurrying.” She throws clothes into plastic bags and shoes into another with a feverish anxiety rooted in soulful terror. “Oh my God! What is that?”

  I quickly load my pistol and rush to the closet. “What?” I pull Jess behind me. “What?”

  “That is not mine,” she says. Among her hanging clothes is a pair of undergarments more suited to a vintage, mid-century brothel than a modern residential home. Tied to the undergarments are a small bit of wrapped straw and a small organic pouch.

  “Leave it where it is, let’s go.” I tell her.

  “OK.” She gathers more clothing and personal items. As we leave our house, a loud crash comes from our bedroom. Ignoring the sound, we throw our plastic bags into the patrol truck, looking back wearingly at the front door to our home.

  “Don’t look. Let’s just go see Max.” I say to Jess. She says nothing.

  “Steve! How are you? It’s good to see you, how do you like your new job?” A jolly man in a Hawaiian shirt appears at his front door. He greets me with a warm handshake.

  “Ben, how are you? My new job is an interesting endeavor, it really is. Listen, how is Max?” I shake his hand.

  Jess waves hello and goes looking for Max, calling her name in a cracking voice.

  “She’s good, gets along with Pixy, such a sweetheart.” Ben pets a small poodle that then sniffs at my shoe.

  In the neighbor’s living room, Jess tearfully hugs Max.

  “Do you mind hanging on to her for a few more days? A week? Maybe two? I’ll buy you all the dog food you want.” I hide my fright.

  “Yeah, that’s fine.” Ben glances at Jess. “Everything cool over there?”

  “Yes, some drama, but nothing we can’t handle. I’m heading back to my job and taking Jess with me, so keep an eye on my house if you can, too, please.”

  “Sure, anything, you bet.” Ben pats my shoulder.

  “Thank you so much, I won’t forget,” I say.

  Jess and I leave to pick up Rebecca Taylor. I am very uneasy as I reach down to make sure my pistol is where I left it, between the driver’s seat railing and the floorboard. I drive frantically, glancing into my rearview mirror, almost expecting an unexplainable event to happen. We arrive at the host family’s home. I note there is a commotion coming from inside the host family home. I can hear a dog barking.

  I turn to Jess and take her hand, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, for all this. You were right about all this. You were right.”

  She pulls her hand away.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  Rebecca Taylor is escorted out of the brick home holding an oversized backpack and struggling with a small duffle. The host family says nothing. They stand as statues.

  I place Rebecca’s bags in the rear compartment as Rebecca climbs into the rear seat. “Rebecca, make sure you have the shoulder strap on too OK?” She says nothing, “Rebecca?”

  “I’m in.” A tiny voice returns.

  As we depart, I see the host family stand hand in hand on their lawn like statues, they do not wave goodbye. Their dog struggles to remove its muzzle as if its paws are now hands with thumbs. It struggles violently. It almost stands vertically on its rear paws. It tries but keeps falling as it struggles. The host family seems oblivious.

  We drive to Jess’s friend Hailey’s house, a college friend. I help unload bags of clothing and shoes.

  “Jess, talk to me, please,” I say and reach for her arm lovingly. She pulls away. “Jess?”

  “Look, you can go now. You’ve done your heroic thing of saving me and that kid in there,” she points at Rebecca. “You can go back to where you are needed.”

  “I’ll fix this, I promise,” I say, struggling to remain calm. “I promise. And yes, you are important to me. I love you.”

  CHAPTER 12

  I roar into Winslow as the child sleeps soundly. Sporadically she kicks about and claws the air over her but still manages to sleep. The miles are anxiety-filled, but I press on. A darkness follows me out of Winslow. I turn up the heater one click as Rebecca sleeps still.

  “She was right about all this,” I mumble to myself over the tire roar on asphalt. “She was right. What the fuck am I going to do?” The emptiness greets me coldly. “I just can’t leave…I really can’t. But then again my priorities are fucked if I can’t.”

  My mind runs rampant. I want a son, perhaps daughters too. I feel that endeavor slowly slip away. “Shit.”

  “Rebecca? Wake up sweetie, I can’t carry you, come on,” Karen says and nudges the child, and leads her into the church. I pick up the child’s bags and follow.

  “Pastor, you alright with all this?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I’m glad she’s here and not out there, thanks for bringing her. Taylor will be so happy.” Pastor stands rigid wearing a large coat and snow boots. “You can put her things over there.” He points to the walk-in pantry. “We have a room set up in one of the Sunday school classrooms we use for storage. Holden brought a bed from Teesto clinic.”

  “Nice. You pray over his guns, too?” I ask.

  “Not yet,” Pastor says as he and I walk back out to the dining hall. “Coffee?”

  “No thanks, I’d like to head home and get some sleep,” I tell him.

  Karen walks in. “She’s out, just like that.”

  “Pastor, I think my house is haunted, or something.” I grimace at actually muttering such a phrase.

  “What?” I get the attention of Pastor and Karen.

  “My dog, Max, or me and Jess’s dog, Max, is acting funny. The motion detectors are picking up something, but the video feeds don’t show anything. Something is there tripping the motion detectors, but it can’t be seen,” I tell them.

  Pastor sits uneasily. “Anthony Keller came by this evening.”

  “Tony? My cous
in?” I gaze quizzically at Karen and Pastor. “Really?”

  “He just walked through that door with a smile, ate some frybread, drank some coffee, talked about God, and then left.” Pastor surmises.

  “The feds are looking for him, aren’t they?” I inquire.

  “They came by after he left as if they were waiting for him to leave.” Pastor stokes the fire and adds more cedar. “Tony Keller walked in, and hell walked in with him.”

  “Go home, Keller. Monday is going to be a fun day at the chapter house. Take tomorrow off. I’ll call you if I need you,” Karen says and pats my shoulder. “Sorry about your haunted house and Jess. It’s not good when we indirectly involve our loved ones like that. I’ll call you if I need you.”

  “Is that what happened with your marriage?” I ask Karen.

  “No, not exactly. We just didn’t get along. He was an asshole, and I didn’t like it. Go home. I’ll call you if I need you,” Karen says.

  “Make sure you do. If Tony comes by again, shoot him, or tell him I’ll see him later. I’ll buy him a beer,” I tell Karen. She and I share a silence as Pastor fights with a large piece of cedar that refuses to fit into the stove. “Talk to him.” I say pointing at he who is losing a battle with a Franklin stove. “He’s Pastor, who’s he going to tell?”

  Pastor finally gets the cedar into the stove and kicks its door shut.

  I say my goodbyes and head for home. I set my phone’s ringer on the highest volume level available and sleep.

  “Thanks for coming,” Holden greets Karen and I as we make our presence known for Monday’s chapter house meeting. “Lots of people have arrived after word got out that a medicine man was coming.”

  We take our seats in the back. Chris and Jeremy arrive and take their seats on the opposite end. We share nods.

  The meeting is hardly a meeting as one agenda item is presented after another. Budget constraints are cited as the reason for its rejections. Hours pass by. We see no medicine man enter the chapter house.

  “I’m going to get coffee, want a cup?” Karen whispers.

  “Sure,” I say.

  “Be right back,” Karen says and walks to the rear kitchen area.