Minus Tide

by Dennis Yates

  He went down to the beach to look for her but couldn’t find her. But by the next afternoon surfers reported seeing her body drifting out past the last breakers. She’d looked peaceful, as if she were asleep on her back. Except for the birds having taken her eyes.

  Her body was taken to the city morgue. She had no identification. And after her fingerprints and photos were compared with missing persons reports, they’d decided to put her on ice, shoved her into metal-locker limbo. On the chance that something would change. That someone would come forward and claim her.

  It took him a few days to get her out of the morgue. The janitor wasn’t cheap, had treated him as if he was just another sick customer. Mikhail made a mental note to come back and kill the man. He’d loaded her body into the trunk of his car and drove several hours into the desert and buried her before sunrise next to a cluster of Joshua trees. He wasn’t going to let her stay in the cold morgue forever. It was the least that he could do.

  It had taken him all night to dig a proper burial hole, much longer than he’d imagined it would. He’d found lots of cans and bottles under the sand, tattered newsprint and windshield glass. And bones. Bones of all shapes and sizes. He could hear coyotes in the distance. Knew that the rocks he’d stacked on top of her would not keep them from her for long.

  Chapter 48

  James took Bill Calder’s keys but he didn’t shoot him like he’d wanted. This was no time to add vigilantism to his resume. He’d shot a cop and a high school football coach and he didn’t know if he’d killed them both. And he knew what they did when someone shot a cop, even if it was someone like Dawkins. If they don’t kill you themselves they’ll catch you and you’ll stand trial. And by the time your chance for parole comes up you’ll no longer see the point in getting out.

  As soon as he started the Subaru he was blasted by FM Country. Bill and the others just stood watching him drive away, afraid that if they moved too soon he would turn around and come back. He watched Bill’s face in his rearview mirror until he turned off. Saw the surprise still working his face. Wondered if Bill’s family would be wishing James had gone a little farther off the deep end.

  Farther up into the mountains there were downed trees everywhere. James had to lever down the window of the Subaru so he could navigate. The night air was redolent of sawdust. Many of the trees he saw appeared to have been trimmed in a hurry and pulled to the side.

  The suitcase of money sat next to him. A bullet had passed through it to the other side and he could see a hint of green at the edges. He wanted to open it but he needed both thumbs to unsnap the locks. When he saw that the highway was going to straighten for a few miles he pulled off the hoodie and draped it over the suitcase. He would have to look at the contents again later. When he checked into a motel or pulled over onto some back road for a few minutes of sleep.

  As he drove he struggled to focus. His thoughts kept getting tangled up with Ann and the men he’d shot. He wasn’t any good at turning off the switch. Not like the guys he’d met in Mexico who worked in the drug trade. You didn’t mess around with them, kept your past off limits, didn’t even allow yourself to dream about it because they had people who worked for them who would find out about it. He’d made it clear right away that he had no interest in their business, that he was only living there because he needed a place to be alone and think.

  Ann’s going to be fine. It’s not going to matter if she hates you for what you did. She’ll get over it faster that way. Besides, you weren’t even back for very long. You’re never going to see each other again so close the door and move on.

  He glanced over at the suitcase to make sure it hadn’t gone anywhere. Like the first night he had his new truck and Ann had sat next to him in the cab. For a moment he’d felt like the luckiest man in the world and he’d kept turning his head to see if she was still there and he would’ve hit a deer had she not seen it and let him know.

  It wasn’t easy to imagine what it was going be like. But in a few days he was going to wake up as another person in another town with all the identification to prove it. How long could he go before he had to look for a job, he wondered. People are going to notice eventually. It kind of defeats the purpose then. You have all this money and you’re still not free.

  Chapter 49

  He’d told her almost all of it except what happened to her mother’s eyes. How it haunted him still. A body that lies out at sea won’t remain beautiful for very long.

  “I missed her,” he’d said. “Even if she went to the cops before she died.”

  She’d refused to show them any identification. Had spent an hour telling them everything she knew about him and Duane. When her body was found two days later the cops had no idea she was the same person.

  He told Ann that as soon as he’d heard about it on the news he’d left town, leaving out the part about stealing her mother’s body from the morgue and burying it in the desert.

  At a pay phone in Bakersfield he’d called the sheriff and told him they shouldn’t talk for awhile. He returned to New York and prepared for the worst. Three months went by. Nothing. But after six months he began to have a strong feeling that he was being watched. It was the feds finally. He’d been told that he’d know when they were around. And as far as he knew they weren’t the buyable kind.

  It wasn’t until after his car accident that the feds made their move. He was an injured animal and they’d seen their chance to come in for an easy meal. While he was in the hospital having his empty eyehole sewn shut and his limbs set in casts, they arrived at his house with warrants to tear apart everything he had. When the doctors said he was well enough to leave they took him into federal custody.

  “So why are you doing this to us?” Ann said. “We had nothing to do with what happened to you. We were only kids.”

  “Where’s the money?”

  “I don’t have it. James does.”

  “Good. Then we’ll soon know who’s lying or not.”

  Ann laughed at him and for a moment he was jarred back to a memory of her mother floating in the motel pool with her arms around him, her breath smelling of vodka and lemon.

  “You’re not going to catch him. He knows this area better than you. You haven’t got a chance.”

  “Why are you defending James? He left you to die didn’t he?’

  “I know him. I’m not defending him.”

  Cyclops smiled. He replaced the duct table over her mouth and smoothed his thumb over her lips to seal it.

  “He can’t run forever. I will find him some day.”

  He stood up and walked over to where he’d tied Chad to a post. He took out his knife and tilted it at an angle so he could see stars on its steel surface. Thought about all the throats it had parted so neatly.

  The knife came down against Chad’s head. Cyclops brought up the blade as if he were cutting off the feathery tops from a fistful of tall summer grass. Ann screamed when he turned and showed her Chad’s blonde hair.

  Chad still lay unconscious, hadn’t even seen him coming.

  Cyclops walked back. Ann was crying. He tore away the tape on her mouth and sat down in front of her.

  “Please don’t hurt him.”

  “It’s only hair. It’s not going to kill him.”

  “He doesn’t know anything about the money. He has nothing to do with this at all.”

  “You think the money is everything Ann. But it’s not. It’s been about you. I wanted to meet you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re a loose end.” He took the handful of Chad’s hair and tossed it into the wind.

  “My mother’s been dead for years. This has nothing to do with me.”

  “But it does.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “You’re free to think that. But let me tell you something. When I got out of prison I was not at all the man that went in. Prison is like a factory that presses coins. They think they’re turning us into something they can dump back into the normal
currency some day. But they know it’s not true. That most of us come out ready to put our new education to use.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “I think you do. As well as anyone I know. But other than taking my money you mostly walk the straight and narrow these days don’t you?”

  “Duane hoped he could turn me into someone like him but it didn’t take. I knew that I’d never get back those years of my life so I took what I thought was mine. He got what he deserved.”

  “Yes he did. But Duane talked a lot too. He didn’t feel sorry for what he’d done. What kind of trouble he could cause you. He blamed you for sending him to prison.”

  “I wasn’t going to lie to the cops like he’d wanted me to. I was done with that. I was young and I wanted my life back. I knew I’d never see my mother again.”

  “I wanted to kill him. But your mother told me not to. She decided to run instead.”

  “But you killed that man on the beach. I saw him.”

  “There was no one to ask me to spare his life. You see, I’m not always the cold killer you’d like to believe. Besides, he was halfway to where he was going. Not much good to me if he was found alive by anyone. I only helped him along. I try to run a clean business.”

  “Why didn’t you kill me?”

  “I thought I would. But your strength surprised me. I wanted to talk to you but you were shivering too badly. You reminded me so much of your mother. For awhile I thought I was saving her from those incoming waves.”

  “So you’re the one who built the fire…touched me when I couldn’t move.”

  “You would have died if I’d left your clothes on. That cut on your leg…”

  “You bastard.”

  Cyclops nodded meekly. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have done it. But I couldn’t stop myself. You remind me of your mother.”

  He offered her a water bottle and she tore it from his hand. While she drank he stood and walked up the drive to the highway. There was no one coming. Hadn’t been anyone since the blue Skylark had blown past, the driver’s face too deep in shadow. If the bridge was closed, where had he gone?

  The town’s asleep again. There won’t be anyone else coming. You can do whatever you want…

  He heard the first dogs yipping from a nearby hallow. There were never many at first. Until the others heard them and answered their call. They were on their way. Wanting to be in on the chase. Wanting to be in on the kill.

  There were stars visible above the serrated ridge to the north and Cyclops watched them as they were snuffed out by black invisible clouds. It reminded him of a spreading plague, of how quickly the glimmer of our lives can be taken away forever.

  After a few minutes he walked back to Ann and leaned against the concrete building where the old man once sold fish bait and steamed crabs. He looked down at his knife. Couldn’t recall how long he’d been holding it in his hand.

  “There’s another storm coming,” he told her.

  “I’m not going to talk to you about the weather. If you’re going to do it, then get it over with.”

  Cyclops folded the knife and put it away. He reached up with both hands and pulled back his filthy hair. A train of high clouds began to haul overhead, passing across the moon. He kept his head tilted upwards, as if he were drawing heat from an invisible sun. His single eye catching the fading moonlight.

  “Can we talk about the elk first?”

  Chapter 50

  Chad opened his eyes and watched what was happening. The pounding in his head felt as if the blood inside had formed a fist. He thought he was going to throw up.

  He didn’t recognize the fishing ramp at first. It was mainly a Traitor high school hangout back when he was still in school and he rarely came down to visit. After he graduated and started selling a little pot on the side he’d sometimes cruise through the ramp looking for customers. For several months he got away with it before Sheriff Dawkins caught him one night and searched his car. He’d warned Chad that if he’d ever caught him again he’d personally guarantee that Chad would get to know the walls of county jail better than his own sorry excuse for a dick and Chad had believed him.

  A man Chad had never seen before stood staring down at Ann. He’d just taken his hand out of his trench coat when Chad opened his eyes. His hair hung long and greasy and even from where Chad laid the smell reminded him of a roadkill.

  Where did thehighway derelict come from? Is he going to horribly murder us both?

  Chad hadn’t even seen the man coming. He’d stepped out of his car thinking he’d heard Ann and then there’d been a flash inside his head. He didn’t even have a chance to turn around before he’d felt another blow and this one shot down all the way through to his jaw and made him bite his tongue before he’d passed out.

  Wasn’t it things like this that made ghosts of people? You’re on your way to doing something important in your life and then a random freak comes along and ends it for you? Not for any other reason than the fact that he’s bat shit crazy? Just reaches forward and sweeps all your chips off the table because you’re the one who’s unlucky today?

  He’d suffered no broken bones that he could tell. But he hadn’t tried to sit up either. Whenever he tried to raise his head the hammering in his skull would grow louder and he’d have to stop and rest. He noticed something on the ground not far from where the man stood. It reminded him of a rope coming apart.

  Is that someone’s hair?

  “You’re holding back on me. My mother was like you. She knew things that most people didn’t. About other worlds.”

  “I’ve told you everything I know.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “What else do you want from me?”

  “What did you learn, Ann? I must know their secrets.”

  “It isn’t like that.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “You’re looking for some kind of magic, some connection beyond this world. And that’s your problem. You’re just like a lot of people. You want to believe there’s something greater hidden inside everything. And all I can tell you is it’s not there. Not at all.”

  “You don’t believe in ghosts?”

  “Not in the way you do.”

  “Then what are they?”

  “They’re in the living. The ghosts are in us. You can’t get rid of them. They’re in everything. It’s our past dragging behind us.”

  “So why do we fear them?”

  “Because when we see them they remind us of ourselves. Most of us pretend they don’t exist because it’s too much to bear. But the truth is that we’re trying to get ourselves used to the idea of looking like that some day, that we’re not permanent. And I’m okay with that. When I see the ghost in the elk, I know there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “I see ghosts too. And they should make you worry.”

  Chapter 51

  The dogs were back. He could sense them closing in. And after tonight three more were going to be added to the pack… the man on the beach. Ann and the boy.

  The dogs would not be denied.

  He wished he could tell her what he saw when he looked at her. That he saw her mother staring back at him. Sarah’s ghost. Like it was when they drove down 101. Staying in motels tucked beneath looming redwoods. Sitting up late drinking while the radio played. Waiting for the sun to go down before sneaking out to the motel pool, being careful not to make much noise.

  He’d hoped the girl would have been able to tell him more. About how to make the ghosts go away. His mother had warned him the night before he left for America, the night she’d secretly packed his father’s hunting knife in his pack. She’d had a dream of him as an older man, surrounded by dogs the color of blood. As soon as the killing started, she warned, the dogs would never let him rest.

  And his mother had been right. They hadn’t let him rest. Their hunger kept growing. It didn’t matter if he wanted to kill or not, that he’d lost the taste for it long ago. No matter how
much he tried to keep away from people-riding trains and camping on the outskirts of dying towns-they would eventually find him. He could be sharing a few words with another hobo and suddenly he’d hear them howling in the distance and he knew he’d soon be reaching for his knife.

  He could see that Ann had no idea the dogs had arrived. Probably just thought a wind had picked up and tugged at his clothes. He could feel them gathering around his legs. Looked down and saw the faces of those he killed. Surprised at how many he no longer recognized.

  They rubbed their noses against him, as if asking that he bend down and pat their heads. He stood still. Anticipated the coming tide that would soon flow up through his legs and into his blood, the bodies of the dogs moving faster and faster against his legs until he thought he smelled scorched cloth.

  He stared down at Ann as his body shook. Unable to stop the ghosts from moving up his body. Now a cold electric current that made him clench his teeth.

  A memory floated back above the waves of pain. The vision of Ann running naked through the dark woods. Of laughing about it then because he hadn’t understood its significance.