After a moment of thought, Cash winced and asked. “Is that like the tub cleaner?”
He knows, she thought. Damn him, he knows! And he’s just mocking me. He wants me to suffer!
Avalon’s fingers scraped against the bottom of the table. The nail of her ring-finger, now embedded in the unmoving gum, folded back, peeling away from a few millimeters of skin before popping free. She didn’t notice the sharp sting that would make most people hiss in pain. “You son-of-a-bitch!” Her voice rose in volume and pitch with each shouted word. With hooked talon fingers, she hauled back and swung at Cash’s cheek.
Moving faster and with more agility, Cash leaned away from the swing, caught hold of her arm and turned her away from him. Before she knew what was happening, he’d planted his big, muddy, steel-toe boot against her backside and shoved.
It wasn’t a hard push, but in her current condition, Avalon lacked the wherewithal to slow herself and avoid the table where Pastor Ken Dodge sat with a woman she didn’t know. As she flipped, ass over tea kettle atop the table, taking drinks and pretzels with her, she thought it was strange for the pastor to be out at a bar with a woman, but then, he wasn’t a priest and even Jesus imbibed.
Then she hit the floor.
Hard.
The room fell silent as Avalon stared up at the ceiling. Bright track lights blazed in her eyes, their glow magnified by the effects of Oxycontin withdrawal. Her eyes filled with tears, partly in response to the light-induced sting, partly because of the deep welling despair gripping her body—not because she’d become a shell of a person dependent on a drug to feel normal, but because she knew she wouldn’t be getting any tonight, and come morning she’d have to once again face the real world and all its real problems.
A bell above the door chimed, announcing the arrival of another bar patron. Heavy boots clomped across the wide wooden planks of the bar’s floor, vibrating in the back of Avalon’s head.
A figure leaned into view above her, obscured by the blur of her tears. Avalon squeezed her eyes shut, pushing the tears out onto her cheeks.
“Well, as I live and breathe,” the woman above her said. “Avalon Butler. That explains the California plates.”
Avalon looked up with cleared vision. “Mrs. Rule?”
“Been a while since you’ve been home for a visit,” Rule said and then tapped the badge on her chest. “It’s Sheriff Rule, now.”
Avalon giggled. “You follow all the rules...Rule?” She winced as a sharp pain lanced through her head and sucked away her laughter.
“You trying to ask me something?” Rule asked, and then turned to the bar. “She been drinking?”
Walter shook his head, no. “Not here, at least. Came in like this. ‘Bout five minutes ago.”
Avalon slowly writhed on the floor for a moment, lost somewhere between withdrawal, a lump on the head and confusion from seeing her childhood babysitter dressed in the tan uniform of a sheriff. “Mrs. Rule...”
The sheriff leaned closer.
“You have any Oxycontin?”
4
Joshua Wilson nearly threw up. He managed to hold it down primarily because he knew it was perhaps the worst response he could have to a first kiss. But his nerves were a mess and were playing havoc with his body. He was clammy and cold and sweating profusely. He’d doused himself with copious amounts of his father’s Old Spice before heading out, but he wasn’t sure if the cologne could completely mask his growing nervous odor. Rivulets of cold perspiration tickled his sides. He stepped back, rubbing his T-shirt against his skin.
“Did I do something wrong?” Lisa Howard asked.
She was picture perfect, with a tight yellow T-shirt, blonde hair and twin ponytails. The sight of her, hands wrapped around the chains of the swing upon which she sat, froze Joshua in place. He’d known her for all fifteen years of his life. They were next-door neighbors, after all. But despite the long years of friendship, she had always had this effect on him. Until just a moment ago, when she returned his kiss, he had no idea she felt similarly.
“N—no,” he finally said, and decided to not have a sitcom relationship. “I’m sweating like a pig at the beach.”
Lisa smiled and then laughed. “I’ve seen you with snot all over your face. I think I can handle a little sweat.”
In first grade, during a circle-time reading, he had sneezed a volcano of mucus into his hands that splashed back onto his face. It was one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. “You remember that, huh?”
“Radar,” she said, using the nickname bestowed upon him by his cousins and picked up by the rest of the town, “it’s a sight I will take to my grave. But you don’t need to be nervous. I’m still just me.”
“You always make me nervous.”
“We live next door to each other, we’re in the same class, we walk to and from school together every day, play on the same soccer team on Saturdays and go to the same church on Sundays.”
He nodded. “I’ve been nervous since the day you were born.”
She hopped off the swing, stepped up close and ran her fingers through his curly red hair. They stood nearly eye to eye, him being just an inch taller. “You don’t have to be nervous anymore.”
He could feel the warmth of her breath and smell the gum she’d been chewing. “I think you’ll make me feel this way until the day I die.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You have long-term plans already?”
He cleared his throat, smiled and said, “Since the day you were born.”
“Such a romantic,” she said, and kissed him for the second time. As they lingered, frozen in the moment, Radar’s wristwatch began beeping. He ignored it for a full thirty seconds before Lisa leaned away. “You have somewhere to be?”
“Huh?” His mind slowly became aware of the shrill beeping. He looked at his watch and then remembered. “Oh! C’mon!”
He took her by the hand, leading her through the park. To their backs was the swing set and the elaborate wooden jungle gym where they used to play as kids. Beyond that was the baseball field. Straight ahead was green grass, tall trees and a gazebo where a band would play during the town barbeque tomorrow afternoon, surrounded by gaudy red, white and blue decorations, which were already hanging all around town along with a surplus of American flags. But tonight, with the fireworks drawing everyone to Ashland, the park and most of the town was empty, including the First Baptist Church on the other side of Main Street.
The church building gleamed bright white on sunny days, its steeple reaching up to the sky like the tower of Babel. That was probably an exaggeration, but it was the tallest building in town, which was precisely why Radar had stolen his father’s key. Even now, in the dark of early night, the building glowed, lit by street lights and the light of the waning half moon, still low on the horizon.
“What are we doing?” Lisa asked as Radar led her across the street, hand-in-hand.
He dug the stolen keys from his pocket and shook them. “Best view in town. It’s all ours.”
“I don’t know...”
“It’s not like we’re stealing anything. And I have keys. We’re not even breaking in. We’ll be in and out before anyone even makes it back to town.”
They paused by the church’s front door. Radar wasn’t going to do this without her support, because, if he was honest, entering the church without permission terrified him. It wasn’t that he felt uncomfortable in the building. He’d attended church, Sunday School, Youth Group and Vacation Bible School in this building all his life. He was as comfortable here as he was most everywhere in their small town. But he knew that if they were caught, his father would likely fashion a switch and have at him till the tears he shed in church were more from sitting than from a supernatural encounter.
“Okay,” she said, and he immediately began working the key into the lock. “But we’re not having sex in the church.”
The keys virtually exploded from his hands and fell on the ground. He crouched to pick them up
and cracked his head on the doorknob. Wincing in pain, he snatched up the keys and stood quickly, trying to look composed.
Lisa laughed gently, hands over her mouth, eyes watering.
“I—I wasn’t...that’s not what I was thinking...” In truth, he thought about sex roughly three times every ten minutes and at least thirty times since their last kiss, which included fantasies in nearly every room of the church building, thoughts that caused him to quickly ask for forgiveness before starting the daydream over once again. But he’d never planned on following through. That wasn’t what made him stumble. It was that her words didn’t forbid the possibility of sex, just not sex in the church.
With profusely sweating hands, he unlocked the door and turned the handle. It creaked open, and they crept inside, into the darkened house of God. It was far darker inside than out, but Radar knew his way around. The church interior, which was far cleaner than the hearts of anyone who attended the services, provided no obstacles. They quickly entered the stuffy and dusty-smelling steeple and followed the stairs around and up, careful not to hit the church bell rope and alert anyone left in town to their presence.
Upon reaching the top, standing beside the large bell that summoned believers and heathens to church every Sunday morning, Radar took hold of the slats and tugged. The three foot tall rectangle of ventilation slats popped free and swung open, revealing an unhindered view to the south.
“How did you know that opened?” she asked.
“Remember that Sunday when there was no juice for communion?”
“That was like four years ago, right?”
He nodded. “Well there was no juice because I drank it all. My dad figured it out when I threw it up. Turns out a half gallon of juice is a little too much. Pastor Dodge brought me up here afterwards. It was an inspiring lecture about honesty and integrity, but all I could think of as I looked out this window, is how much I wanted to show you the view.”
The distant pop of a firework pulled their attention south. Bright red sparkles of light drifted toward the ground. The fireworks display would lack the power of one seen up close, but there wasn’t any other place on Earth Radar would rather be at that moment. He wrapped his arm around Lisa, and she snuggled in close.
A thought popped into his head, and he chuckled.
“What?” Lisa asked.
“Shadow Liar.”
Lisa turned her head toward him, eyebrows raising.
“It’s an anagram of your name.”
“You just think of that now?”
“And ninety-seven others, but that’s the coolest.” He knew he didn’t need to explain. She’d played Scrabble with him enough times to know that he had a savant-like gift with words and codes. It was one of the many secrets they shared. Not even the teachers at school knew about it, mostly because he feared they’d give him too much attention, putting him in the crosshairs of less gifted bullies, including his father. “Would make a good online avatar name, but if you don’t like it, we could always go with ‘hairdo slaw.’”
She gave his chest a slap and turned back to the fireworks display, leaning into him. Radar squeezed her arm, feeling at home in Refuge for the first time.
Neither of them noticed the bell behind them, swaying slowly back and forth.
5
“Gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” Rule said. “Just this once. Ask that question one more time and I’ll be babysitting you again, but this time you’ll be in a cell.”
Rule’s relief at Avalon clamping her mouth shut was minimal. She knew the girl had had a rough go of it in the years since her mother had passed, but this...she was strung out. Rock bottom. Rule had remained good friends with Avalon’s father, Griffin, and received updates about her life whenever he did, but it had been six months since he’d heard from her. They’d feared the worst. Looks like they weren’t too far from the mark.
Leaving Avalon on the floor, where the girl would likely be the safest in her current state, Rule turned her attention to Cash. An electrician by trade, Cash was a town staple. He was a bit rough around the edges, especially when he drank, but she’d never had to lock him up. Still, she knew alcohol did things to the mind. Turned folks into different kinds of people, who did things they wouldn’t normally. She eyed the half-finished pint on his table. Times had been tough on Cash recently. Thanks to a government grant and the town’s altruistic benefactor, Renford Ellison, the town’s new electrical system, which serviced downtown and the surrounding neighborhoods, removed a good portion of Cash’s business.
Fields of solar panels could be found in and around town—mostly filling the old airport—not to mention atop the roofs of nearly every home and business, including the sheriff’s station. The church was one of few buildings exempt from the requirement. But energy didn’t just come from the sun. Towering wind turbines lined many of the hills. The combination of natural energy sources wasn’t exactly pretty, but they delivered free energy to the entire town. If the whole world went dark, Refuge would still have power—as long as there was a sun and wind. Water and sanitation had also been retrofitted, making the town a true experiment in self-sufficiency. They’d been told that Refuge was a model for the future, but most folks in town didn’t care much about technology, let alone the future. They were just happy to get a break on their monthly bills.
Not Cash, though. If he didn’t find more out-of-town business, he’d lose his house, and tough times like that can drive a man to the bottle. If the demons can’t be beat in a fair fight, her father told her once, they can always be drowned.
“Can’t say I appreciate what that look in your eyes is implying, Sheriff,” Cash said.
While his direct nature ruffled her feathers, his correct use of the word ‘Sheriff,’ rather than ‘Becky,’ ‘Becks’ or ‘Mrs. Rule’ kept her from replying strongly. She also heard his very clearly enunciated, not drunk, speech. She softened her expression. “That your first drink?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cash said, and without being asked, explained what happened. “She came in here looking for that Oxy-stuff. When I told her I didn’t have any, she took a swing and I helped her walk away.”
“Maybe a little too roughly?” Rule asked.
“It was self-defense,” Pastor Dodge said. “We all saw it. The poor girl is a mess.”
“Screw you,” Avalon said from the floor.
The distant boom of fireworks entered the bar as the door swung open. Guess I won’t be watching the display this year, after all, Rule thought.
The distant rumble was drowned out momentarily by the bell above the door jingling. She felt a warm breeze wash over her as the air outside blew into the room. In that brief moment, the buzzing sound she’d noticed earlier returned.
“Oh my God,” came a woman’s voice, but it wasn’t the newcomer. It was Julie Barnes, the hoity-toity real estate agent who’d swept into Refuge two years previous, brokering the land and home deals that made the town’s retrofitting possible. She must have been rich now, so Rule wasn’t sure why the city girl, with her power suits, high heels and tautly bunned hair was still in town, let alone in the Brick House.
Julie stood quickly and scurried for the door, eyes wide, high heels clacking out a beat.
“Everything all right?” Rule asked.
“Fine,” Julie chirped. “Just got a text.”
As though that explains everything.
The door opened again as Julie left, allowing in more warm air, the faint buzzing sound and a reminder that someone new had just entered.
Not wanting to further complicate the situation, Rule held her hand up toward the door without looking back. “Step outside, please, until this situation is—”
“Tell me what happened,” a man said, his voice full of anger and fear.
Rule recognized the voice and didn’t need to turn around to know who it was or what would happen next. “Watch your temper, Griff.”
He appeared next to her, moving as silently as a ghost. She glanced in hi
s direction. His eyes were searching the bar for a guilty face. His fists were clenched. She turned her eyes to Cash and saw the same casual indifference that was his trademark expression. But Griffin was a smart man. He’d take in the scene, piece it together and play it in reverse. Her only chance to avoid a fight was to put him on the defensive.
“All this coulda been avoided if you’d told me she was home.”
“She arrived last night,” he said. “Found her on my doorstep, shaking.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Withdrawal. She’s an Oxycontin addict. I was going to keep her at home until—”
“He’s keeping me prisoner!” Avalon shouted. “Locked me in the basement. Call the police. I need to go to the hospital.”
Rule sighed. She didn’t want to ask the question, but was obligated. “You lock her in the basement, Griffin?”
“If I had, she wouldn’t be sprawled on the bar floor.”
She believed him. He was a good man—probably the best man in town. And given his past, she didn’t think James Bond could escape from Griffin Butler. “Point taken.”
“Isn’t anyone going to pick me up?” Avalon asked.
Rule and Griffin replied as one, “No!”
“Look,” Rule said, “she hasn’t done anything all of us can’t overlook...” She glanced at the bar’s few patrons. She knew all of them except for Pastor Dodge’s lady friend. She got quick nods from everyone in the room. They knew Griffin and Avalon, and knew the tough time both had gone through. This town took care of its own. But mostly they knew she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She ended her visual tour of the room by leveling her eyes at the Pastor’s company. “...isn’t that right?”
The woman nodded.
“What’s your name?”
Dodge answered for her. “This is Sally Field—”
“Like the actress?” Rule asked.
“Yes,” the woman said.
“MmmHmm. What kind of parents would do that to a kid?” Rule shrugged. “Well Ms. Field, you okay with forgetting this mess if Griff here covers the cost of—”
Refuge Book 1 - Night of the Blood Sky Page 2