“C’mon,” she said to Mickey. “We need ta take Haley to Mainely Paws, now!”
“Are you serious? What about the bridge?”
“Get Dad’s Deerslayah, the rifles, and your handgun. I’ve got mine already.”
Mickey loaded the Winchester 12 gauge shotgun, the rifle, and two boxes of ammo into Glory’s Jeep.
Still, the Grim Reaper was relentlessly at her ear, hissing now. “Heeesssss miiiiine.”
“Shut the fuck up!” she screamed.
“What the hell did I say?” Mickey asked, shocked that she’d yelled at him like that.
“I wasn’t talkin’ to you.”
“Then who? There’s no one else here, Mom!”
The bridge itself in broad daylight was depressing and disturbing as suicide increased, but at night… Theft and murder owned the night. Thieves attempted to stop motorists by throwing rocks at the cars or standing right in front of them. When the vehicle had no choice but to stop, even though the drivers tried to defend themselves, they were often beaten, stabbed, and left for dead. No one would dare stop to help. These newly made thieves and murderers could be former neighbors, perhaps even old friends.
Often, they’d catch a glimpse of the faces of desperation on the bridge or throughout the small coastal community of Cliff’s End, someone they knew by name. Maybe the parents of some of their kid’s friends; others they saw frequently at town functions like the yearly Harvest Festival. One thing about a small town was everyone really did know everyone and it was virtually impossible to keep secrets. Knowing their neighbors in all their humanity, good and bad, was one of the many things Glory and Michael had loved about Cliff’s End. But now, as much as they wanted to help, they couldn’t without putting their own family in jeopardy. After all, God didn’t see it fit to intervene. Why should they be better than he? Glory often thought this; a way to rationalize the guilt she felt at being unable to help.
Cautiously, they went down the driveway and out onto the road.
“I’ll be God dammed if he’s going to take Haley away too,” Glory muttered. She sat in the backseat, Haley’s head in her lap. Mickey drove. Both had one hand on their guns, fully loaded, safety off, ready to fire in an instant if necessary.
“If anyone gets in your way, just…run ‘em over.”
“Okay, Mom, but only if I have to.”
“Of course. We’re not murderers. Only if we have to.” After all, they were the good guys, weren’t they?
Mickey drove without headlights; the night was pitch black, the stars brilliant. There were no street lights in their rural area.
Glory called Michael on her cell to let him know what was going on. He picked up right away.
“Yeah? What’s up?”
“It’s Haley, Michael; we’re takin’ him to the animal hospital right now. He’s had a seizure.”
“Are you fucking crazy? You can’t go there…at night! Is Mickey with you?
“Yeah, he’s with me. Kate’s openin’ the hospital for us.”
“I’ll meet yah there. I’m in Kittery right now, so I should be there before you. Do you at least have guns with you?”
“Yeah, of course we’re armed. I’m not stupid, Michael!”
There was no sense arguing with her; she was strong willed and was going to do what she set out to do and damn the consequences.
“Okay, I’ll, uh, see you in a bit. Be careful! Shoot first, ask questions later. Got it?”
She hung up. Her eyes were peeled for any threats of danger coming their way. So far, the streets were deserted, even as they took the turn onto Route ninety-five south headed for the Pisquataqua. The tension in the car was so thick; one could cut it with a knife.
The bridge loomed just ahead of them. The familiar sign, “Maine—worth a visit, worth a lifetime,” once so inviting was now covered with graffiti; ugly, black paint stating “Anarchy Rules.”
Their eyes looked all around them at every angle. There was no one. Or so they assumed. These “crazies,” as they’d come to be known, were like vampires, committing their crimes under the cover of night.
Out of nowhere, a man jumped onto the hood of the Jeep, startling Mickey, who swerved to the left to avoid hitting the guard rail. The man pounded on the windshield with what appeared to be a hammer, but the windshield held. Mickey pulled the vehicle hard left, and then swerved hard right, trying to throw the intruder off the truck, but he held on tight. When the man’s body swung over to the left side of the hood, Mickey deliberately slammed the Jeep into the guardrail. Still, the guy hung on! They couldn’t believe it! One of the man’s feet smashed the headlight.
“What the…frig! Get offa my car!” Mickey screamed. He used his free hand to grab hold of his gun.
Glory’s eyes were wide with fear, and something else too—recognition.
When the man had first jumped on the hood, he’d appeared all sweaty flesh and hair, his face a grimace of maniacal malice. Now, for some unknown reason, he peered at them in desperation.
“Mickey! Do you know who that is?”
“No! Who fuckin’ cares?” He struggled to keep control of the vehicle, smashing it into the guardrail and swerving left, hitting the cement barrier that separated the north and south bound lanes. There was no way to turn around. Once they were on the bridge, they knew they were committed to go all the way across.
“It’s…Mr. Gale! Your math teacher from middle school.”
“Holy shit, you’re right, Mom! Why the hell is he doing…this?”
“Don’t you remember when they laid off all those teachers back in two-thousand nine? He was one of ‘em. And there ain’t many jobs here anymore.”
Mr. Gale’s eyes were wide, pleading, like those of a wounded animal. He kept looking down to his left and back to the windshield. Then the screaming began, and didn’t stop. “Help me, pleeeeaaaassee!”
“Oh my God, Mom! I think he’s stuck. I can’t tell! Take…the wheel, quick.”
Glory gently moved Haley from her lap. Thankfully, he was still breathing, fast shallow breaths, but still with them. Glory climbed into the driver’s seat from the back. Mickey slid over to the passenger side and opened the window.
Leaning out as far as possible, one hand on the rim of the window, one on his gun, he saw it! Mr. Gale’s foot had become caught in the Jeep’s side grill and it wouldn’t come loose.
“Help me, please!” The panicky screams were deafeningly awful.
“Stop the car, Mom! Stop!”
Glory slammed on the brakes, coming to a screeching halt, the vehicle coming to rest sideways on the pavement.
Mickey got out, closing the door after him. As he did, Glory watched. Everything happened as if in slow motion. A quick flash of steel glittered in Mr. Gale’s hand. He had a gun!
“Mickey! He’s armed!” She shouted.
Mickey looked into the man’s eyes, a man he once respected, who’d tutored him with algebra. A good and decent man reduced to little more than an animal. He looked like a madman!
Their eyes met, locked, and Mr. Gale’s gun came up, aimed toward Mickey’s chest. In an instant, Mickey fired, and fired again and again, not even aiming. Mr. Gale fell silent to the ground. His face was just gone, lost in a mangled mess of bloody flesh, brain spatter and bone.
Glory got out of the vehicle. Staring down at Mr. Gale, she was at once horrified! The look on Mickey’s face mirrored her own. The face was bad enough, but now they could see that his foot was indeed stuck in the grill. The angle was sickening, his ankle and shin had both snapped; bone protruded through his blood soaked pants. Glory threw up.
Swiftly and silently, Mickey opened the back of the Jeep and pulled out a machete.
“What are you gonna do with that?” Glory had never seen the weapon before.
“We have to get outta here, fast!”
Mickey held Mr. Gale’s leg taut, and in one swift, powerful slice, he cut his foot off, releasing the man from the grill at last. Glory would never forget t
he whooshing sound the blade made coming down through the desolate night as long as she lived.
“Help me throw him over the bridge, Mom!”
She walked slowly over to the grisly sight.
“Hurry! There could be more of them.”
Between the two of them, they hauled him up and threw him over the guardrail into the cold waters of the Pisquataqua River.
Jumping back in the car, Mickey wasted no time putting pedal to the metal; they peeled away.
Both were stunned into silence at what they’d just done. That they were forced to do it was of little solace to either of them. Justified or not, it was still murder.
“Mom?”
“Yeah?” she sighed, rubbing Haley’s ears lovingly, allowing the tears to well up in her eyes.
“Do you ever think things will return to normal?”
“Honestly, Mickey, I’m not even sure what normal is anymore. I hope so, though. That’s one thing I do know for sure; we can still hope.”
“Nor need we power or splendor, wide hall or lordly dome; the good, the true, the tender, these form the wealth of home.” – Sarah J. Hale
Part 2: The Way Home
Chapter 16
Michael’s police cruiser was already parked at the far end of the parking lot to Mainely Paws, right by the entrance. Mickey pulled the Jeep in. Glory jumped out before he’d even stopped the car. She ran to the back and between her and Mickey, they brought Haley to the door.
When they walked in and the reception area was totally dark. A faint light gleamed from the back where the actual exam room, surgery room and kennels were. They heard the shuffling of feet, a gun being cocked.
Mickey put his finger up to his lips. Glory nodded, knowing they needed to be quiet until they knew that Michael, Kate, or Dr. Moulton was the owner of the shuffling feet and cocked gun.
Mickey backed up against the front reception wall, one hand on the gun’s trigger, the other on the barrel of the shotgun he’d brought in. He peeked out. Seeing his dad, Kate, and Dr. Moulton, he let out a breath of relief, signaling to his mother to that it was okay to move.
“It’s us,” Mickey said softly.
“Bring the dog back here,” Dr. Moulton whispered. They all whispered. Michael and Mickey, both armed, stood posted at the front and back doors. Michael also had a rifle with a scope on it propped up on the wall beside him. Mickey had the shotgun leaning on a wall beside him as well.
Glory, Kate, and Dr. Moulton focused on tending to Haley.
The doctor’s eyes said it all without as much as a word spoken. Haley was indeed in poor condition. Taking blood from the back of the dog’s forearm, he left to process it in the lab while Kate and Glory comforted the dog, rubbing his ears, talking softly to him. Haley’s eyes were closed. He gave them no trouble during the exam or the blood draw.
Dr. Moulton’s face was grave as he returned with news Glory didn’t want to hear. Haley had suffered congenital heart failure due to complications of Lyme disease. Lyme disease! He’d gotten the limevax vaccination for years, but that was not always one-hundred percent effective. Lyme disease was prevalent in the Northeastern states. His CBC—complete blood count draw—indicated a dangerous presence of white blood cells. His body was trying to fight off the infection, but it was a losing battle. His age alone worked against him. The dog was already on the high end of his life span as it was.
“So, what can we do?” Glory asked.
“Make him comfortable or…put him down now,” Dr. Moulton said. “He’s suffering, there’s no doubt about it. His lung capacity is at forty percent. I’m sure the joint pain is agonizing at this point as well. It’s your call, Glory. I’m sorry.”
She nodded and staggered out into the hallway. The sound of triumphant laughter echoed in her mind; she ignored it.
Calling Mickey over to where she stood with Michael, she told them the news.
“Make the call, Glory. You know this stuff beddah than we do. You work with it all the time,” Michael said.
“Do not leave this decision to me alone, Michael! Yeah, I do help clients make these very decisions every day. And I am heartbroken for them; still, I try to maintain a professional detachment, which isn’t always easy. But this? It’s Haley! I can’t be objective. It’s just…not the same. I say, we vote on it as a family. He’s going to…going to…die either way. The only question is how long and in how much pain he’s in. Or do we end it for him right now?” She could barely say the words.
“I’m sorry, babe, you’re right. Mickey, whadda yah say?”
“Let him go, Mom. If not for us, for him. He’s sufferin’.”
Michael nodded in agreement.
Glory left them, walking again to the back of the hospital where Haley lie on a fleecy warm blanket wrapped up, Kate still rubbing his ears. His chest barely moved up and down. And he was seizing again. His body shook; although now weaker, the shaking wasn’t as intense as the first one. She knew as much as Michael and Mickey would rather be at her side, they couldn’t be. They had to keep watch for safety. There was always the chance that the dim lighting would attract the crazies themselves, seeing an opportunity to steal something or worse.
“Do it,” she told the veterinarian.
Dr. Moulton prepared the shot and injected it. Glory took a deep breath, holding onto the dog’s front paw, her arm around his neck as she crouched down to be as close to him as possible, her face resting against his.
Haley’s eyes were half open, his tongue hung to the side. Within a matter of minutes, the muscles in his body relaxed; his breathing became slow and easy. He lifted his head weakly, and licked her face.
“I love you, my bestest buddy,” Glory murmured. “You’ll always be my soul mate pup.” She stayed with him, wouldn’t think of leaving him until he drew his final breath. He exhaled, seemingly letting out all the air left in his lungs. He was gone.
“I’m not ready for this!” She buried her face in the warm fur of Haley’s neck and cried.
“I’m so sorry, hun,” Kate said, her arms around Glory, holding her gently as she sobbed her very heart out. Glory was well aware of how quickly an animal died once the shot was given, but it just wasn’t the same! No matter how many animals and sorrow-filled owners she’d dealt with, the pain of it was even more unbearable than she could’ve imagined.
A thought flashed in her mind, and was gone as quickly as it’d come. He’s won again!
Of course, that was an irrational thought; Haley had lived out his life span. That was the truth of it, and yet, it seemed this was too much, too many deaths in such a short time. As if the Reaper knew that he, as well as her own fear of death, would eventually be the ruin of her.
“Sorry, my dear,” Dr. Moulton said, leaving them swiftly, going out the back door where Mickey escorted him to his vehicle. His eyes darted everywhere, making sure no one was waiting to ambush them. The doctor lived a few blocks from the hospital. After he left, Mickey went up the embankment toward the woods, checking with his flashlight for intruders. Nothing but the sound of the wind through the trees; he went back to his post.
“Glory? We need to…decide what to do with the body. Do you want to put him, you know, in the, uh, freezer for cremation?” Kate asked awkwardly. It was a truly touch subject, especially since Glory was aware of the procedure of disposal after an animal was put down.
They placed them in large plastic bags and put them in the large freezer to be picked up by the crematorium.
Glory shuddered at the thought. To leave him in the cold and dark, alone, without his family repulsed her.
“No! I can’t leave him.”
“So, a country burial then?”
“Yeah.”
Kate went to get an oversized, heavy cardboard “casket,” which was given to those who chose to take their pets home for burial. That’s what she’d do. She didn’t even have to ask Michael or Mickey, knowing they’d want him with them, on their own land, always.
Michael helped Glo
ry and Kate load Haley into the police cruiser, a sad and silent task.
The three of them froze on the spot. They heard the unmistakable sound of brush and branches underfoot from the wooded field beyond the parking lot.
“Maybe it’s a deer or somethin’,” Kate whispered.
There were more sounds of something or someone moving stealthily along the ground, closer now.
Noise was a funny thing at night in the woods. It was difficult to accurately determine distances. Michael thought it better to err on the side of caution and they booked it for the door.
Once back inside, Michael pulled his gun from the back holster, checked the chamber, and slammed it shut. Glory stared at the glitter of steel. She made no pretense that she knew much about guns, but she’d swear she’d never seen this one.
They stood, silent and alert.
All was dead quiet for the span of about thirty seconds, and then everything happened all at once with the speed of lightning in a particularly fierce thunderstorm.
Michael yelled, “Get down!” just as a barrage of bullets whistled over their heads. Whoever was shooting must have had a silencer on their weapon because the only sounds were a whooshing noise and then the impact of where the bullets landed. Glass shattered at the windows. But the bars were there, preventing whoever was out there from getting in.
“How are we going to get out of here?” Glory asked Michael. “We’re trapped!”
“Sounds like only one shooter from what I can make out,” Michael said.
“Dad?” Mickey came around from his post in the back.
“You ‘n me are gonna go out the front and back and circle the place. If it’s only one guy, we should be able to trap him between us. Glory, you and Kate stay under the reception desk and do not move until we call yah. Got it?” The ladies scrambled under the desk.
“What if there’s more than one of ‘em?” Mickey asked, looking brave at the moment, not at all scared.
“If there is, we’ll deal with it. Just don’t wait to see who it is. Shoot and keep on shooting. Do not, I repeat, do not hesitate for even a second!”
The Wisdom of Evil Page 11