Dirty South Drug Wars

by Jae Hood

With a curt nod and a lingering kiss, I left him, darting from the car and into the rain, fumbling with my keys a bit before sinking the correct one in the lock. The old van fired up, the vehicle shaking and sputtering. Tanner’s headlights disappeared behind me. I waited an agonizing ten minutes before I pulled from the alley, following the path he had just taken.

  He was just where I’d instructed, the dark muscle car hidden underneath the wide bridge next to the muddy waters. The waters were rising, causing me to chew on my lip as I thought of Tanner’s prized possession, but he shushed me, content it would never rise high enough to reach his car. I nodded, and he shook the water from his mussed hair, giving me the stomach-clenching grin that made me melt.

  Tanner insisted on driving, and I let him, choosing instead to stare through the dark windows. We traveled through town. My body softly trembled with the inevitable drawing near.

  “Baby, are you okay?”

  “Cold,” I lied, giving a soft sigh as he turned on the heat.

  Truth was I wasn’t cold at all. I was burning hot, the thought of murdering my kin quick on my mind. I could do it, there was no doubt, but still I was nervous to take a man’s life, to live with that knowledge forever.

  The shaking diminished once Tanner’s warm hand found mine. His long fingers threaded through my shorter ones, giving me a reassuring squeeze. There was a lopsided, excited grin on his face that reminded me of a kid at Christmas, and I couldn’t help but shake my head and scowl at him, remembering Chance’s words from so long ago.

  “He’s just looking for an excuse to kick someone’s ass over you.”

  *

  Amos lived at the end of an old dirt road on family property. The road wound through pasture after pasture, with dark woods bordering the rolling hills. Rusty, ancient barbed wire hung from wooden beams lining the road, jutting from the soggy earth. I stared through the windshield, my palms sweating, anxious of the impending danger we were about to put ourselves in. As we passed the old wooden barn with the brown rusted tin roof, I knew we were close to the house and there was no turning back.

  The house loomed ahead. There were no vehicles in sight other than Amos’ old yellow Case tractor that, for some reason, wasn’t parked in the barn. The rocking chairs on the front porch pitched back and forth in the wind, as though invisible ghosts sat in them, watching as we crept up the drive.

  “He’s not here,” I said, my voice edged with mutual relief and disappointment. “What now?”

  “Now we go in.” Tanner shifted into park and cut the engine. “We go in and see if we can find anything that key will fit.”

  “The key?”

  “Yeah, the key you found in Lucy’s room. That key may fit something linking Amos and his brothers to our fathers’ deaths. With that evidence we can take the entire family down, along with anyone else involved.”

  My hand found the chain hanging from my neck. Slipping one finger beneath the chain, I pulled it from where it rested, tucked safely under my shirt.

  “Is that the same key that was in your grandmother’s safe?”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “I never thought it was important. Lucy loves … loved this key. She wore it all the time. She was wearing it the last time I saw her.”

  An unspoken question hung in the air between us: how Lucy’s necklace could be hanging from her vanity if she wore it the night of the overdose. The staff in the emergency room would have removed it before working on her. They would have returned it to her responsible party. Maybe Christine returned the necklace to Lucy’s room after her death.

  Maybe.

  Tanner and I exited the vehicle and crossed the soggy front yard. I climbed the steps with Tanner on my heels. My feet slipped against the slick, wet surface. My hair clung to my face in large, soaked clumps, which I shoved away.

  Inside was eerily quiet aside from the occasional clap of thunder in the distance, the sound so harsh it shook the dusty old windows on the wooden clapboard house. A gust of wind billowed in behind us, rustling the checkered curtains on the windows. The sudden flutter of movement caused me to jump, sending my heart racing.

  The house was clean but musty, smelling of death and despair, as though no one had lived and breathed the dry air inside for years. I wondered how often Amos stayed in the house, where he spent most of his time.

  Water pooled on the blue-painted wooden floors as Tanner and I slipped from room to room, opening drawers, shuffling through cabinets and closets, searching for something the old brass key would fit into, but there was nothing. There was no safe, no trunk, nothing.

  Tanner stood near a window and gazed outside for any sign of my uncle approaching. I sat perched on my knees, stooping on the floor in Amos’ bedroom, searching underneath his bed.

  “Is there a cellar?” Tanner asked.

  “No. The only person in my family with a cellar is Nana.”

  “The key was your nana’s. Do you think whatever it belongs to is at her house?”

  I shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  *

  The metal gate in front of her home was open, held back with a concrete block half-wedged into the earth. A shudder ran through me as I noticed a dead chicken snake hanging from the fence, belly up, its body whipping in the violent wind.

  Nana’s house key was exactly where she always left it, hidden underneath the rug sitting in front of her front door. I held it up like a prize, flashing Tanner a grin.

  “She must still be in Birmingham.” I shoved the key in the lock and entered the house.

  “Your grandmother’s superstitious, huh?” Tanner asked, nodding above the doorways.

  I shook my head in confusion, noticing the horseshoes for the first time. Above each doorway we passed or entered, a horseshoe hung overhead. I searched my mind for the meaning, the symbolism of the horseshoes.

  “Brings good luck,” Tanner explained. “And the snake on the fence brings rain.”

  I nodded in understanding, but honestly didn’t understand anything at all. My grandmother was no different than any old Southern woman. She held her beliefs, but I never thought her to be superstitious.

  “This house is bigger than Amos’.” Tanner shook the rainwater from his hair, the droplets peppering my grandmother’s wooden floors. “It’ll take longer to look around, which gives us a greater chance of being caught. You know the house better than I do. How about I take watch from the den while you look around?”

  I nodded in response, smiling as he left a lingering kiss on my lips and slipped into the adjoining room. He stood near the window, a streak of lightning illuminating his figure. One hand held the curtains slightly to the side.

  It felt strange leaving him there. An uneasiness crept over me, but I shook it off, retreating upstairs to begin my search.

  I started in my grandmother’s closet, rummaging around through the hope chests she kept there. One was engraved with my name and a separate chest had Lucy’s, which caused me to dry-swallow. Josie’s was also there, although the wood was marred with her Christian name, Josephina. Olivia’s chest was there as well, and unexpected tears welled in my eyes at the sight of it. I wiped them away with the back of my hand, trudging on.

  My chest was filled with unexpected, breathtaking items. I recognized my grandmother’s wedding dress from the black and white photographs hanging in the den above the fireplace, although the photo didn’t do it justice. Instead of being white, it was a pale blue, edged in fragile lace, the material silky and the size much smaller than my robust grandmother.

  Ignoring the flood of emotions, I continued to dig through the chest, through the silk flowers and brooches, chunky costume jewelry, monogrammed pillowcases faded from time.

  I searched the closet for what seemed like hours, although it was probably just a matter of minutes. There was nothing in the closet that required a key.

  “This is pointless,” I muttered.

  A large clap of thunder shook the house. The sound of breaking glass cause
d me to shriek. Pressing my palm against my pulsating heart, I crawled out of the closet, flashlight in hand. The beam landed on something shiny, the reflection flashing back at me.

  A portrait of my sister lay on the floor, the glass shattered from the force of its fall. I picked it up, shards falling from the frame.

  “Are you trying to tell me something, Luce?” I asked aloud, half expecting her to appear.

  But there was nothing. The house was eerily quiet—so quiet, in fact, I began to worry about Tanner.

  I placed the picture back on the floor just as I found it, somewhat sorrowful to leave it there as though I were leaving my sister behind as well.

  I returned downstairs, mindful to keep my flashlight beam trained on the ground to prevent anyone from seeing it outside the old house. The carpet running down the stairs was covered in red clay mud, my own footprints, and I cursed below my breath.

  “Tanner?” My voice was a dead whisper inside the house, the word caught up in the howling wind outside and the shutters banging against the house.

  There was no immediate answer. A thrill shot up my spine, the fine hairs standing on the back of my neck and goose pimples rising on my arms. I entered the den and trained my flashlight beam near the window, but Tanner was gone. Only a scurry of muddy footprints remained.

  A loud banging sound caused me to jump, sending my heart into a frenzy. I crept into the foyer, finding the door wide open, the billowing wind flinging it against the wall. I grasped the door in my hand, stood in the doorway, and stared out into the darkness, squinting against the stinging rain blowing in on the porch.

  “Looking for this?”

  For a moment I thought the voice belonged to my father. The two men resembled one another in such a striking way. Turning in his direction, I blinked several times, focusing on the man through the darkness.

  Amos stood in the foyer dressed in black. Water dripped from his clothes, puddling the dirty floor below him. He held Tanner’s arms behind him, pressing my boyfriend’s back against his chest. In his other hand was a gun. He pushed it against Tanner’s throat near his Adam’s apple. Tanner’s eyes were pleading, darting from me to the darkness behind me, as though he was directing me to go, to flee, to leave him behind with my psychotic uncle.

  Well, bump that.

  I tsked Amos with a frown. “You don’t want him. It’s me you want.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, my dear.” Amos laughed. “I want you both. Dead.”

  “Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual.” I scowled, the thought of my sister’s smiling face in the shattered photograph upstairs flashing through my mind.

  “Step away from the door, Rue.”

  I narrowed my eyes, insulted by the tone of his voice: soft, soothing, and condescending. Then I remembered he probably thought I was crazy.

  “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll shoot your boyfriend in the head.” He smiled, removing the gun from Tanner’s neck and tapping it against his temple for emphasis.

  “Don’t you listen to him, Rue,” Tanner commanded through gritted teeth. “Get out of here. Run!”

  “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear enough,” Amos said.

  Amos dropped the gun from Tanner’s head then pistol whipped him. Tanner’s eyes rolled back, his body slumping against my uncle’s. Amos stepped back, causing Tanner to fall to the floor. My uncle hovered over him, the gun drawn on my prone boyfriend’s body. The gentle rise and fall of Tanner’s chest alerted me that he was unconscious but not dead, bringing me bittersweet relief.

  “Step away from the door, Rue.” Amos took a large step over Tanner’s body.

  The wind picked up, as did my willpower. The door beside me flung violently, the thick piece of wood barreling inward. I jumped back on impulse, my uncle creeping forward like a wild animal ready for attack. He reached the door, but not soon enough. As it slammed shut my feet left the ground and I was flying.

  I darted through the rain, wind, mud, and muck, my shoes slipping and sinking deep into the earth. The suction of the red clay held me back, but still I ran. I tossed my useless flashlight to the side, knowing I needed both hands free just in case—just in case he reached me.

  I saw Nana’s storm house ahead, the homemade concrete shelter dug into the side of the hill, the open doorway a black void into the tiny space that beckoned me.

  I stumbled inside, taking a chance of looking behind me to find my uncle just yards away. He knew he had me, he thought he had me.

  He was wrong.

  I removed the gun from the waistband of my jeans, holding it behind my back. I thought about wrenching the wooden door shut, but it would do no good. There was no need, because he was there.

  Amos stood near the doorway, blocking the small amount of light blessed by the moon as it occasionally peeped out from behind the dark, rolling clouds. As he stood there I held up my gun, clasping it in my hands, relishing the coolness of the sleek metal between my fingers. I felt strong, I felt brave.

  I felt like myself again.

  “You thought you could just drive out here and shoot me, huh?” Amos laughed, the sound chilling as it erupted from his throat. “You stupid little bitch. You didn’t even realize I’ve been following you all night.”

  Amos stepped forward, causing my heart to seize in my chest. I hesitated, and in that moment he had me, dragging me from the storm house across the muddy backyard, laughing and taunting me as he did so. Once we were close to the house he released me, tossing me to the ground.

  “You’ll never kill me. You’re weak, pathetic. Just like your old man was.”

  He glared down at me, the rainwater dripping from his face. He resembled my father so much in that moment, the dark eyes and thick hair, I found myself stunned. How had he turned into this monster? How had he turned into this man who took so much from me, took so much from himself, killing his own brother, killing his own niece? My stomach twisted and I felt the need to retch, because I knew.

  I was next.

  I was the next to die if I didn’t fight back.

  I gripped the gun firmly in my hand, the mud it lay in embedding beneath my nails. I held it up, grasping it in both hands, and pointed it at his head. My pose was unwavering. The safety was released by the slip of my thumb. I was ready for this to end. I’d been ready for such a long time.

  “You won’t do it.” He barked in laughter, his features twisting in a sneer, and he glowered down at me, a look of condescending pity drawn on his face. “You’re too much like your father. You’re weak. You think with this more than this.” Amos slapped the area above his heart with one hand before tapping his temple.

  “You want to talk about my father?” I blinked away the rain and tears, swallowing down the knot lodged in my throat. “Let’s talk about my father. My daddy was a good man who made some terrible mistakes, but he didn’t deserve to die. Tell me why you did it, Uncle Amos. Tell my why you murdered my father.”

  The smirk left his face, replaced with a grimace of pain. Lightning etched the sky behind him, the wind blinding me as rain pelted my face. Amos stepped forward, hovering over me, uncaring that his dead brother’s gun pointed at the area directly between his eyes.

  “You took everything from me,” I said. “I lost my father, I lost my mother, I lost my sister, I even lost my mind for a while, but not anymore. I’m back, back for revenge. You’ll pay for your sins with your life. I doubt anyone will miss you.”

  He gave me a wicked grin, his lips curling into a sneer. “You’re right. No one will miss me. I’m not Jeb. I’m not a monster with a heart of gold. I was the kid living in his shadow. Everything we worked for, everything, was his. I was the oldest! Do you know what it was like living in Jeb Monroe’s shadow? Knowing my father wasn’t really my father? Always made to feel like I was never good enough for Ma? Never good enough for Pa?”

  “I can’t believe Nana treated you any differently,” I responded, the gun heavy in my hands, waning just a bit. “Nana loves everyon
e, unwaveringly. Your father, your biological father, was her one true love. If anything, I’m sure you were the most special of her children.”

  He laughed, the cackle menacing and broken behind gritted teeth. “Most special? I’m the bastard child of a man who never loved her. He used her and never acknowledged my existence. I was a mistake. Jeb was the first-born Monroe. Papa Monroe doted on him. He was everything I wasn’t.”

  “So you killed him? You killed him out of jealousy?”

  Amos scowled and spit on the ground. “Jealousy? Is that what you call it? Ha! You’re in for a rude awakening, little girl. I killed him because he was a traitor, making deals with the devil himself, Tanner Sr. I was against it from the beginning, so your beloved daddy went behind my back, making deals to share territory. Your father would have ruined everything. Think of the money we would have lost, just giving territory over to the Montgomerys.”

  “So you killed him for money?” I shook my head in disdain, my soaking hair clinging to my forehead.

  “No, I killed him because he got in my way,” he sneered, sliding the safety off his own gun as he took another step forward, standing directly over me. “I’m the king, not Jeb. I was meant to rule, not him. He got in my way. Tanner Sr. got in my way. Lucy got in my way, and now you are in my way.

  “I had so much hope for you, Rue,” he said, his face contemplative and edged with regret. “You’re the smartest of the brood. I told myself if I ever had a kid I’d want it to be just like you. I financially supported your mother after your father’s death. Even after the whore ran off, I supported you girls. All you had to do was stay away from the Montgomerys, but you couldn’t do that, huh? You’re too much like your father, too much like your mother. A Montgomery whore. You could have ruled one day, but no. Such a waste.”

  The unmistakable sound of a click resonated in the air. I took a deep breath and expelled the air from my lungs.

  I blinked away the rain with a smile. “You’re wrong, Uncle. I’m not in your way. You’re in mine.”

  My father’s gun made a clicking sound of its own. The hammer tapped against the cool metal. The gun no longer felt heavy in my hands. If anything, it felt light, weightless, and I was lifted in that moment. The troubles that followed me suddenly melted away.