Unraveled

by Reavis Z. Wortham

  After one quick glance over his shoulder, he leaned over the handlebars. He blew around a lumbering truck full of hay. The Wraith shot past the startled farmer and hit the straightaway leading to the creek bridge. He gained distance on the one mile straightaway to the curve around Ned’s house.

  Past it, the turnoff over the dam was only another mile farther on.

  He could take it, cross the lake, and then cut back down Highway 271 for just a minute and disappear into the backroads on the east side. From there he had a dozen options. His best bet was to head for Red River County and cross back into southeast Oklahoma. If he could make it to the gravel and dirt roads in the rugged, undeveloped Kiamichi Mountains, they’d never find him.

  Chapter Eighty

  The hay truck slowed Ned and he chewed his lip for a few seconds until he could see the oncoming lane. It was clear and he pushed the pedal to the floor.

  Cody braced himself with one hand on the dash and the other gripping the door. He knew the old constable was a good driver, but when he glanced at the speedometer as they hit the Sanders Creek straightaway, the needle was pegged at 120 miles per hour. “Careful, Ned.”

  “You want to drive?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, we don’t have time to switch.”

  “Then why’d you ask me?”

  “’cause you wanted me to.”

  Ahead, the motorcycle’s taillight flickered as he slowed to round the curve past Ned’s house.

  Cody keyed the microphone. “He passed Ned’s house. If he don’t take the oil road to the bottoms, he’ll be in Center Springs in half a minute. John, cut him off.”

  “Nearly there.”

  Chapter Eighty-one

  The thick air was so still that I could hear a motorcycle coming over the creek bridge. It was whining loud and coming fast. A car was winding out behind it and I thought some teenagers were racing. I limped across the living room and went out on the front porch. Pepper and Mark followed me.

  From the edge, we could see down the straightaway from the bridge. Mark whistled. “Man! That bike’s moving!”

  Pepper grabbed a porch post and leaned out to see better. “I hope he knows this curve’s coming up.” Her hair hung down as she tilted her head to see around the brushy Bois d’ Arc tree at the bottom of the curve. “If he don’t, he’s gonna wind up in that bodark or Gary Halpin’s raggedy-assed barbed-wire fence.”

  Mark pointed. “Look! That’s Grandpa’s Plymouth chasing that guy! Look at him go! Whooee! He’s a driving son-of-a-gun. I never woulda thought it.”

  The pitch of the motorcycle’s engine changed as he slowed to take the bend. We lost him for a second at the bottom of the hill and then he shot out past the house, leaning into the S-curve and accelerating even faster toward Center Springs.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  I heard a crack and turned to see Miss Becky’d whacked Pepper on the back of the head. “You watch your language on the Sabbath, young lady.”

  She mouthed “shit” and rubbed her head as Grandpa came around the curve, tires squalling. “Mark said son-of-a-gun.”

  “Well, that ain’t really cussin’. You keep a civil tongue.”

  The back end almost broke on the Plymouth below the house and the tires squealed, but he steered into it and his engine roared again as the road straightened. He shot past and we had time to see Uncle Cody in the passenger seat, talking into the Motorola’s microphone.

  Mark turned to look at me. “Man! Someday I’m gonna be a lawman.”

  I liked the idea. “We can be partners, deputies.”

  Pepper rolled her eyes. “Oh, puhleeze.”

  Movement caught my attention behind Pepper and I saw Norma Faye’s eyes were watery again. “That’s Calvin. They said he got away on an Indian motorcycle.” Her voice broke into deep sobs when she turned from the door and went back inside with Miss Becky behind her.

  The three of us stayed on the porch to listen as the car’s tires whined away toward Center Springs on the hot concrete.

  Chapter Eighty-two

  Cody keyed the mike again. “He’s past the cutoffs to the bottoms and headed your way, John. Can you catch him before he gets to Oak Peterson’s store?”

  “I ain’t there yet. Got behind Ike Reader and a trailer full of cows. If Williams gets to Center Springs before me, he might take to that oil road past the Ordway place. If I miss him, it’ll take him around behind me and I won’t even know it ’til I get there.”

  “Do your best. Anna, where are you?”

  “Off the highway and almost to the dam. I have him cut off on this side.”

  There weren’t any roads branching off that one. “Don’t let him get around you, gal.”

  “Don’t worry about that.”

  John’s voice came back through the speaker. “Coming into Center Springs. I don’t see him. He might have cut off before the post office and headed to the bottoms that way.”

  Cody started to tell him that didn’t happen, because they could see the bike ahead when John came back through. “There he is!”

  The radio was silent for a moment, and the two lawmen held their breath as wooden fenceposts flashed past in a blur. John’s voice came through. “He turned toward the lake. He damn near lost it when he saw me. Anna, he’s heading your way. Ned, look out!”

  Chapter Eighty-three

  The Wraith was thinking of only one thing.

  Getting across Highway 271.

  He saw John’s oncoming deputy sheriff’s car at the last moment. For just a second, he considered shooting off on the oil road behind Neal Box’s store, but decided on hard concrete instead of an oil road so he could ride faster.

  He nearly laid the bike down, drastically cutting his speed and dropping his left foot to the pavement. The sole of his boot smoked as the rear tire skidded, caught some traction, and then he was back up, leaning over the handlebars and accelerating past the Baptist church.

  The Wraith threw a look back over his shoulder and laughed when Ned almost skidded into John’s car. They stopped in a cloud of white smoke.

  The Wraith ducked to reduce the wind resistance and shot toward the dam.

  One minute. That’s all he needed. One more minute to gain enough distance to get clear.

  He was gonna make it.

  Then he’d come back in a couple of years and kill every goddamned one of those Parkers.

  Chapter Eighty-four

  “Look out, Ned!” Cody stiff-armed the dash, his eyes wide.

  “Shit!”

  He’d already committed to the turn at the same time John whipped his car to the right. Ned’s brakes shrieked as he fought the wheel. For a moment, Cody saw the terrified look on John’s face as they slid toward the deputy’s car.

  John jerked the steering wheel to the left toward Oak’s store. Ned spun his wheel left and their rear bumpers kissed as the cars skidded past in a boil of burned rubber and dust. Without missing a beat, the old constable stomped the accelerator again. The back tires white-smoked on the pavement until they caught traction and shot forward. John spun a full 360 degrees on the gravel and bottle-top lot and roared down the highway behind them.

  Holding the dash with one hand, Cody keyed the mike. “Anna. He’s yours. He’s coming across the dam with us and John right behind.”

  “I see the lookout. I’m stopping in the middle of the dam and blocking it with the car. He won’t have anywhere to go.”

  “He might try to get around. Use your shotgun. Shoot the son of a bitch off the bike if you need to. Don’t let him get by.”

  “You want me to shoot a man for fleeing?”

  “Fine then. Shoot the tires.”

  “That’s the same thing on a motorcycle.”

  “I know it.”

  Ned shook his head and spoke to Cody. “Some folks j
ust need killin’.”

  Chapter Eighty-five

  A bug exploded against The Wraith’s face, stinging like he’d been slapped. “Dammit!” He hit the dam and accelerated to make time. Another bug hit him above the eyebrow as he punched through a thick swarm of bees. Their soft bodies felt like BBs against his face. He ducked his head, terrified that one would hit him in the eye. He didn’t have time to slow down. He needed all the distance he could get between himself and his pursuers.

  The curve in the middle of the dam approached and he let off the accelerator. Coasting into the bend, he hit the gas. The next thing he knew the tires felt like they were on ice. The bike slammed to the pavement. The Wraith’s head smacked the concrete with the sound of a dropped melon. He heard a sharp crack and then nothing.

  The bike skidded across the oncoming lane with his leg trapped beneath, sanding through his jeans and then flesh. The Indian shot through the hole in the railing. What was left of the man now known only as Calvin hit one of the splintered support posts with his shattered head before the limp body flew off the edge and rolled down the already scarred dam.

  Chapter Eighty-six

  Ned rolled onto the bridge the same moment he saw Calvin’s bike hit the ground and disappear off the edge. “Son of a bitch!”

  Cody brought the mike to his lips. “Anna?”

  “I didn’t do it. I didn’t shoot. He lost control on the curve and went over the backside.”

  Ned slowed and stopped before he reached the twisted guardrails. He and Cody were out of the car as John pulled up behind them. Anna arrived moments later and they met beside the twisted rails opening to the north.

  There was no movement down below. John took the shotgun from Anna’s hands and started down the slope. “I’ll check him out.”

  “I’ve already called an ambulance.” Anna stopped with her knees against the railing.

  Cody nudged Ned and pointed. “Look. He hit that oil from my car. It must have felt like ice.”

  “An oil slick’ll do the same thing.” Ned wiped the sweat off his face with a shaking hand. “That proves what I’ve always said.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Folks always get what they deserve.”

  Chapter Eighty-seven

  We heard rather than saw the wreck that killed Calvin Williams. The three of us were still standing on the porch when the whine of Grandpa’s big engine reached us from the dam. I was squinting that direction when I heard the distant crash and saw something shoot off the road up there.

  “Dude!” Mark’s voice was almost a whisper. “That bike went off the side. One minute he passes here alive and the next he’s probably dead right there.”

  Miss Becky was in the living room and heard us. “My sweet Lord. Norma Faye, thank the Lord it’s over and our people are safe.”

  Norma Faye spoke quietly to herself, and I believe she didn’t think anyone could hear her, but she was wrong. I was close to the screen door and her voice came through crystal clear. “Thank God. I hope it killed him.”

  She turned away and didn’t say anything else.

  Her comment froze my brain for a second and I stood there, gaping like a fish. Pepper stepped off the porch. I watched her. She started across the yard and I found my voice again. “What are you doing?”

  “Going to see the wreck.”

  Mark stopped at the edge of the porch. “What?”

  I pointed toward the dam, past the trees on the opposite side of the highway. “There’s a trail that leads to right where he went off. We used it last weekend when Frank and Maggie died in that same place.” I paused and swallowed a lump in my throat. “That was only a little over a week ago.”

  Pepper was already going down the hill. Mark dropped off the porch and followed her. “You coming?”

  I thought about it. “I’ll be behind y’all. I can’t walk as fast as you, and besides, I’ve done seen enough over there.”

  He threw me a wave and disappeared down the hill. They reappeared across the highway and ducked into the woods. I didn’t want to go, but then I remembered the Kleenex I’d picked up when we went to see Frank and Maggie’s wreck. It was wrapped around something, but I’d forgotten all about it.

  I slapped my empty pocket like it would be there and waited a beat, thinking.

  I figured I’d lost it somewhere between here and there, and all of a sudden I wanted that lump of tissue really bad. I stepped off the porch on my good foot and limped along behind them.

  Sweat broke out on my face in no time, but it was cooler in the woods. It felt like it took a week to break out the other side, then cross the meadow to the trees lining Center Springs Branch. Mark and Pepper weren’t anywhere in sight when I came to the foot log. I stopped to rest, feeling my nail-hole throb. That log looked as skinny as a straw and I wondered if I’d be able to limp across.

  I didn’t have to, though.

  A wisp of smoke formed at the edge of the deep draw and while I watched, it became a woman, then Mama. She stood there as real as anything, holding a chubby baby with curly black hair. Tears sprang into my eyes and I couldn’t move. She smiled at me. The worried look I’d seen on her face the last time was gone, replaced by something different. She was younger this time, like she looked in those old black-and-white pictures Miss Becky kept in a shoebox in the closet.

  Her hair was soft and wavy, and the worry lines in her forehead were gone. She was wearing a skirt and blouse I’d seen in old pictures of her and Daddy. She bounced that baby for a second as it grabbed for her chin, and then pointed to the ground.

  There wasn’t anything there, so I looked back up and she nodded her head in the same direction.

  “Mama?” There was nobody else around, and I desperately needed to hear her voice one more time.

  It didn’t come. She pointed again and waved and turned and walked into the space over the deep gully. I could see that baby’s face looking back over her shoulder at me. It was one of them mixed babies, white and black.

  Then they were gone.

  I limped over to the base of the footlog and looked down where she pointed into the gully to see the tissue that had fallen out of my pocket. It was caught on a root poking out from the side, about two feet down.

  I got down on my stomach and stretched as far as I could. My fingertips barely touched the Kleenex and I was afraid I’d knock it loose and it’d fall all the way to the bottom, but I caught it between my index and middle fingers.

  I sat up and twisted around with my feet over the edge. Using my thumb, I tore the tissue open and shook two rings into my palm. One was a band big enough to fit a man’s hand. The other was a woman’s wedding ring.

  I studied on them for a second and realized they belonged to Frank and Maggie who’d died in that wreck, and what those two little bands of gold meant. Mama’s mixed baby came suddenly clear and the rings burned hot in my palm. A deep pool down below told me what to do. I pitched them into the water where they disappeared in two tiny splashes. A squirrel ran out on a limb, probably the same one that scolded me a week earlier, and told me off, but I barely heard him.

  I waited until the water stilled. Thinking I’d kept their secret, I struggled to my feet and went back to the house.

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