Deep and Dark December

by Paul Cave

  Rivers took the wire.

  Simple telephone wire.

  Perfect.

  The wire had been made into a makeshift leash. Two hoops were formed around the mutt’s front legs and then tied firmly together around his shoulders. Rivers had a length of the wire in his hand, enough to allow Cal a few yards of slack.

  “Let’s go boy,” he said.

  Cal trotted at his side. They reached the doorway to find Ben and Anderson stood nearby.

  Ben looked mortified. And Anderson looked on somewhat curiously.

  “You sure he’ll be okay?” Ben asked.

  Rivers nodded. “If I see even the slightest of changes, I’ll pull him back. I promise.”

  Ben seemed to accept this. Yet reluctantly so. He dropped to his haunches and tickled the mutt’s chin.

  “Be brave,” Ben said, likely more to himself than the dog before him.

  Cal offered a wag of his tail.

  Rivers nodded to the two of them. He paused just for a second at the doorway, and then he pulled it open. Just a crack at first, as wind tried to prize the door wider with its ghostly fingers.

  They stepped outside, Cal leading the way, Rivers at the rear, with the overhang saving them from the heavy downpour. Still, the wind blew at them with some conviction, forcing Rivers to hold his feet firmly.

  He took a moment to determine which side of the overhang offered the best protection. The way he had driven in seemed to be bearing the brunt of the storm. He turned towards the front of the motel to face that way.

  There, the rain dropped beyond the overhang by a yard, giving Rivers the relief he felt needed.

  “Okay boy,” he said, drawing up near the edge of the canopy. “Just a little walk in the rain. Nothing to worry about.”

  The mutt sat at his feet. Looked up. Woofed in disapproval.

  “Hey – let’s go,” Rivers said, his head tipping sideways in a conscious effort to encourage the dog.

  Cal was not buying it. He simply sat there. Fuzzy face expressionless and his tail fixed to the ground.

  Rivers studied the rain. Nothing more malignant than your typical downpour. Just rainwater. That’s what he could see – but his sixth sense warned otherwise.

  Cal’s too.

  The mutt sniffed the air. Did not budge.

  Rivers understood that they had reached an impasse. The dog was not willingly going to brave the rain, nor could Rivers risk that chance either. With no other option, he squatted next to the dog.

  “Sorry – boy,” he said, taking him in his arms.

  Before guilt or reasoning could stop him, Rivers threw Cal gently into the rain. The telephone wire stretched out as the mutt landed a couple of yards away, his feet squelching into mud and water as he landed.

  Rivers held his breath.

  Cal remained stuck in the downpour for a second or two, before pulling muddy paws clear. He turned to Rivers and shot him a look of misery. The rain had instantly drenched him – his fur a matted mess and whiskers on either side dripping with heavy droplets.

  With a look of indignation on his drizzled face, the mutt trotted back to the overhang and then stopped at Rivers’ feet. He shook his coat all over his boots and pants before trotting back to the diner’s doorway, dragging him as the makeshift leash pulled taut.

  Rivers held him back. Waited.

  Nothing happened.

  Cal just wanted in.

  No sudden acts of violence. Or unwarranted behaviour. The mutt simply pawed at the door. Looked back at Rivers through sodden brows.

  “Shit,” Rivers breathed, understanding that he had been wrong.

  He joined the dog at the door, and with slumped shoulders he pushed it open.

  Ben was waiting on the other side with a dishcloth in hand. As Cal entered, the trucker dropped the small towel over the dog and began to pat him dry.

  Rivers returned to the diner with an air of uncertainty about him.

  The deputy was waiting as he entered. Her face looked tired and drawn. He nodded once in solemn defeat. She reached out to place her hand on his shoulder.

  “You almost had me convinced,” she said.

  Rivers was speechless. He just looked back silently. The rain outside filled the muted stillness, as it chittered and chattered in noisy defiance, covering everything it touched in an oily and warm residue.

  Rivers looked at the mutt for a long while.

  He waited.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tensions in the diner had lessened over the last few minutes. That dreadful air of oppression had finally faded into something more akin to muted optimism.

  The cook and teenager were completing the last few tasks that needed to be done before the diner could shut for the night. Ben had Cal back to a respectable look of normality – just the few tufts of fur poking out at odd angles, and his coat had a slightly added sheen about it now.

  Deputy Anderson engaged in a short bout of conversation with Luka. Nodded several times and seemed to regain some of her initial verve.

  She returned to Rivers, who had not moved from his seated position.

  “Luka says you’re welcome to stay for the night. Free of charge,” she said. “Ben’s taking him up on the offer.”

  “Good,” Rivers replied absentmindedly.

  “What’s your plan?” Anderson asked.

  Rivers did not respond.

  “Hey man, you can’t sit there all night. The lights are going off soon.” The deputy looked at him and could see his eyes were somewhat empty looking. “Rivers – you hearing me?”

  Her standing there finally drew his full attention.

  He cleared his throat. Nodded. Eyes back to their clear and focused clarity that had been on display when first meeting her.

  “I’ll fill up and be on my way,” he said.

  “You sure? It’s been an exciting night.”

  “Yeah – I’m sure,” he said.

  “You look beat,” Anderson said.

  “Feel it, too,” Rivers replied. He looked at her and gave her a genuine smile. “Had fun there for a while – Deputy. One crazy night.”

  Anderson agreed.

  “What’s your plan?” Rivers asked.

  “I’m taking Luka up on his offer. Bed here for the night. Hopefully, the trucker who helped Ben out earlier will be true to his word. Send help once he gets north. I’ll hitch a ride back into town as soon as someone arrives heading that way.”

  “Good plan,” Rivers said.

  “You sure you’re up for the drive?”

  “You got something better in mind?” Rivers quizzed, holding her gaze steady.

  Anderson laughed, understood his connotations, and felt a sudden rush of colour warm her face.

  “Keep dreaming cowboy,” she said, backing away from the table. She spun on her heels and made her way back towards the counter. Then stopped and half turned towards him.

  “Have fun – Rivers,” she said.

  The deputy left him sitting there. Her face still felt flushed, his last comment bringing heat to her cheeks. And her loins – if truth be told. For a split second, she had almost said – okay – yes, come join me. But her uniform had pushed her own interests away, her sense of still being on duty more governing.

  A terrible thought filled her head. What if he had not meant that at all? Not seen her as something to be attracted to.

  Damn it, she thought.

  How embarrassing.

  She looked back his way, ready to seek an understanding. The table was empty. Just a small stack of crumpled bills had been left behind.

  Rivers was gone.

  A moment of genuine remorse followed. She had liked him, crazy notions and all. Good men were hard to come by these days. Rivers had seemed to be one of them. The deputy tipped him an imaginary salute.

  “Good luck - Rivers,” she said.

  Then she joined the cook and teenager at the counter.

  Luka smiled. “Let’s get them rooms sorted.”

&nbs
p; Anderson did her best to look grateful. A night here, alone, did not appear to be quite as appealing.

  “Right,” she said.

  Maggie patted the deputy’s arm – seemed she was in tune with recent events, and feelings, and the teenager offered a knowing look of understanding.

  Anderson felt her cheeks flush a bit again – had things been that obvious?

  The cook saved her from further embarrassment when he offered Maggie her jacket.

  “Let’s prep those rooms,” he said.

  Maggie read his lips. “Sure – boss,” she replied.

  They moved into the rear of the diner, navigated through a couple of packed rooms, and found themselves in a narrow hallway which led to a side entrance. Towards the end, the cook reached out to take a raincoat that was hanging from a peg.

  He stopped for a moment as he worked his arms into the coat’s sleeves. Then pulled the hood over his head.

  “You stay here,” he advised the deputy. “This is a shorter route to the reception area. No point getting drenched.”

  Anderson nodded.

  “The door is one-way only. Can’t be opened from the outside. Need to hit this bar to open.” He pointed to the horizontal bar that would open the fire escape.

  “Sure,” Anderson said.

  “Sometimes, the wind slams it shut if blowing in the right – wrong - direction,” Luka said.

  The deputy understood her role - door duty. She laughed despite herself. “I’ll make sure it stays open,” she promised.

  Luka nodded.

  Maggie looked pissed she was not being given the role. A dry one at that.

  The deputy reached out, mimicking the teenager’s earlier action, and gave her a sincere look of pity.

  “Hard luck – sweetheart,” she said.

  Maggie just shot her a look of disgust.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The wind was still howling with discontent. Rain had lightened ever so slightly, and Rivers felt a level of relief in that. It was still a torrid affair though. Dark and wet, and a dismal end to a difficult day.

  Rivers was bent down – the nozzle to the gas pump filling up the container at his feet. He had spotted the jerrycan on his exit, placed at the front of the diner with a few other essentials. Bags of starter wood, and even bigger bags of coal were stacked neatly on top of each other. The can had been neatly tucked away.

  He did not think Deputy Anderson would cuff him and hold him on arrest just for taking the can free of charge.

  Reality was setting in – the evening’s earlier encounters already being processed and stored away into the safety of his memory banks. Indeed, the encounter with the Brown Bear had already started to seem unreal. Something viewed rather than experienced.

  Only the meeting with the deputy still lingered at the forefront of his thoughts.

  The nozzle stopped chugging as the can suddenly pumped excess fuel over its rim. Rivers released the trigger mechanism. He dropped the handle back into place. Looked towards the diner. Only Ben and Cal could be seen.

  Rivers watched them for a moment. The feeling of failure still hung heavily over him. He had been convinced something should have happened. Yet, the mutt had not displayed any uncharacteristic signs of play.

  He just could not figure that out.

  He bent to screw the cap into place on the jerrycan. His decision had been to fill up here, and then drive a few hundred yards along the road that connected the motel to the highway. Park there under the safety of darkness and refuel the gas tank. Nobody needed to see Meadows in the rear.

  A short drive to Hope Springs and God willing he would find Meadows the help he needed. If not, he would have to head further south and seek help in the larger city.

  Rivers took a deep breath. He picked the jerrycan up and patted the gas pump in thanks.

  His hand froze.

  A picture of the first squirrel burst to mind. The one that had been running. The one that had hidden here, on this very pump.

  Comprehension hit him smack bang in the middle of his forehead.

  He dropped the jerrycan. It landed with a heavy thud. Next came the whip-crack of gunfire, somewhere to the side, or behind the diner, he could not be sure. However, this sudden moment of understanding propelled him towards the diner.

  He only prayed he would not be too late.

  The cook hit the mechanism, and the fire exit swung open. Darkness filled the opening with just a hint of falling grey. The rain was still a constant downpour outside.

  Luka pulled his raincoat tight. Looked at Maggie, said, “Let’s go,” and stepped out into the shower.

  Deputy Anderson felt her heart twist a little as he took the first few steps.

  The cook stopped suddenly – one hand tipped upwards to catch the falling raindrops. He held that pose for the longest of seconds.

  The deputy did not even realise when her hand went to her sidearm.

  Luka spun suddenly, a look of open amusement on his face.

  “See,” he said. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

  The deputy watched as he spun full circle, seemingly enjoying the moment.

  She relaxed. Her hand moving away from the weapon of hers.

  Maggie followed next. The teenager stepped into the rain. Her shoulders hunched over, and her head dipped low. Her body language was speaking a different tone to the cook’s. She looked as if the rain was causing her physical pain.

  “You okay – honey?” Anderson called.

  The teenager did not respond.

  Luka’s moment of joy vanished. His face flipped from glee to fear in a heartbeat.

  Maggie screamed. A terrible sound of pain and anguish. She took a single stride and then catapulted herself onto the cook’s chest, one arm wrapping itself around his neck in a tight snare. A blur of something metallic flashed as the teenager’s other arm jabbed up and down.

  Blood burst from the cook’s face, throat, everywhere the blade cut flesh. Luka staggered back with Maggie still clinging to him like some hideous parasite.

  His voice rasped out in a gurgle – blood rushing into the back of his throat to fill his lungs with a boiling, coppery heat.

  “Maggie!” Anderson screamed.

  The teenager just clung on. That terrible blade cutting and gouging as it sought soft purchase.

  Rain turned bloodred.

  Anderson had her weapon drawn. She fired a warning shot wide of its mark. This sudden threat seemed to resonate with the teenager.

  Maggie dropped from the cook’s chest.

  His wounds were horrific. His throat had opened up, blood spurting in a rhythmic beat, and his eyes had been torn out, sockets hideously vacant with only shadows to fill them.

  The cook dropped to his knees. Blood spread out around him. He took one last gurgling breath before falling face first into the mud.

  Anderson could not believe what was happening. It was all too fast. Too insane to fully comprehend.

  The deputy turned her attention to the teenager.

  “What the fuck have you done?” she demanded.

  Maggie just snarled back. Her eyes were wild and empty.

  Anderson levelled the gun at this demented girl.

  Maggie jabbed the steak knife in the deputy’s direction. It glinted in a flash of malice as the lights within the hallway reflected off it.

  Anderson fired another shot. This time at Maggie’s feet. The kid was gone. She stepped sideways and the night took her.

  The deputy slumped against the inside wall. Her weapon wavered for a second before it tipped downwards.

  In the next second, someone was at her side.

  A familiar voice.

  One full of care and consideration.

  Chapter Twenty

  Things had tipped towards the realms of the nightmare. Deputy Anderson was seated at a table – hot coffee weeping wisps of heat towards the ceiling. She looked visibly shaken. Her face was drawn, and her eyes had that empty and hollow look about them.


  Shock, Rivers understood.

  The deputy was in that terrible hiatus between understanding and incomprehension.

  He only hoped she would have the sensibilities to process these terrible events. Some could. Some could not. He had seen this with his own eyes back in ‘Nam.

  Some soldiers had the ability to absorb the horrors of war. Others simply broke – their spirits unable to grant these terrible events as real, and these few had drifted into no-man’s-land like the phantoms of lost conflicts.

  He was stood with the trucker, Ben.

  “She going to be okay?” Ben asked.

  Rivers shrugged. In all honesty, he did not know.

  “Give her time,” he said. “She’ll come round.”

  Ben sighed. “Hell of a thing to witness.”

  Rivers agreed. Yes, a hell of a thing. To watch another human being die was paramount to losing a part of your own soul. Once it was gone, nothing could replace it. A lesser man – Rivers believed.

  It took something from you. Something that neither time nor consideration could return.

  Rivers crossed the diner. Sat before her. He reached out with one hand to take hers.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he said.

  The deputy looked up – her eyes full of tears and sorrow.

  “Jesus – Rivers. What the hell just happened?” she asked.

  All Rivers could do was shrug his shoulders. Squeeze her hand tighter. What could he say? That a suspicion had begun to take shape. Something that was difficult to fully understand. Heck, even he did not fully comprehend what was pushing his thoughts towards this idea.

  “I’m not sure,” he said.

  The truth.

  “Humour me,” Anderson said.

  Rivers thought for a moment. His feelings were jumbled at best.

  “Remember the squirrel?” he asked.

  The deputy nodded.

  “The one that was hiding from the other two. It took a while to make sense. Why was it running?”

  Anderson shrugged. She did not know.

  “Because it was not infected,” he announced.