The Drought (38 page)

A dark slit ran the length of Angelina’s abdomen. Nathan fell to his knees. Sobs came up from his chest matching the mournful tone of Agador’s howls. The flashlight fell from his hands, illuminating once again the glistening mass that only a moment ago had been unidentifiable. Nathan did not need to look again to confirm what he already knew. The wet lump crawling with ants and flies, only a foot from where he had fallen, was human viscera. Angelina Dupier had been disemboweled.

*

Griffin stepped out of the Aston Martin and approached the abandoned truck. He knew instinctively the boy had fled and he also knew he hadn’t gone far. He went around the truck and took several steps into the darkened woods. He sniffed at the night air. He could visualize the boy crouching down, hiding, waiting, bidding his time. Just as he knew the boy was near, he understood somehow Jared Riley sensed his presence. Toying with the boy, Griffin called out to the black night. “Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum, I smell the blood of trailer scum.” His voice sounded gravelly, like sand lined the inside of his throat.

The night remained quiet, not a single bush or leaf stirred. Whistling softly, Griffin leaned against the truck. “It’s okay, I can wait.”

Jar remained frozen in place, paralyzed with fear. The gravelly voice sounded close. If he made a run for it, he would give his location away. If he stayed hidden the man could easily stumble across his hiding spot. The thought of Nathan returning and walking into an ambush, unlocked his muscles. He didn’t know who or what waited near the truck, he just felt certain it wasn’t all together human and it was dangerous. Taking a deep breath, he popped out of his crouch and made a mad dash for the deeper part of the woods. Behind him he heard laughter and the sound of pursuit.

He ran as fast as he could, the backpack thumping against his spine with each footfall. He couldn’t hear anything over his own ragged breathing. His mind however was happy to improvise on the sensory lapse. The man with the gravelly voice was only two arm lengths behind, closing fast, reaching out through the dark. Now he was an arm’s length away, his fingers brushing against the canvas of the backpack.

Abruptly sound returned—he heard heavy footfalls coming from the
front
?

Too late, he saw a large figure on the path in front of him. He had just enough time to register the fact his pursuer had maneuvered around him, got ahead of him in the dark, before he and the figure collided. A scream quivered at the back of his throat, but he lost his breath on impact. A loud “oomph!” exited his terrified vocal cords. Bouncing off the man he fell backwards, sprawling awkwardly across the trail. His spine hit the edge of the Govi when he landed gluing his eyes shut with pain. Blinded, he lay on the trail trying to pull air into his deflated lungs.

Something wet and warm touched his throat. His vocal cords clenched again, his mouth opened prepared to let out an earth shattering scream when the warmth against his throat turned into a wet tongue. He pinched open one eye just in time to see Agador’s tongue descend across his face.

Relief, wonderful and brief flooded through Jar. It took several moments of wild gesticulations, combined with a voice skimming along mighty close to the timbre of a hysterical girl for him to persuade Nathan to step off the trail. Hidden in the bushes, Jar described seeing the headlights and feeling danger approach.

Only half-listening to the boy, Nathan’s thoughts returned to Angelina. He had been unable to retrieve her body. The branch had been too high and the trunk had not offered sufficient handholds. The thought of leaving her alone in the woods for another night killed him. He needed to take the boy home, make a few phone calls and come back to retrieve the body.

Jar fell silent, waiting for Nathan to say something. Realizing the boy had finished his story Nathan came out of his thoughts and guiltily made eye contact. “Let’s head back toward the truck. Agador will let us know if someone is waiting.” He tapped his gun, “And I’m ready for any surprises.”

They followed Agador down the trail. The hound felt no need to leap ahead, and walked at a slow pace that reflected his true age. At one point his ears lifted and he sniffed the air, searching for the source of an unusual scent, but then he continued down the trail. As they approached the truck his ears lifted again but the scent that had only a moment ago seemed strong, disappeared and blended with the smell of the road. Agador stared down the road, sensing danger but unable to detect from which direction it came.

*

Griffin followed the truck with his headlights off until he saw it turn down a driveway. He drove past, made note of the number on the mailbox and kept going. A mile down the road, he hit the brakes, performed a swift u-turn and started back. He pulled the Aston Martin onto the shoulder and turned off the engine. He had a small arsenal in the back of the Aston Martin, enough ammunition to wipe out half of Reserve’s backwater population. A bullet was a little too impersonal for the occasion. He reached for the machete. As his fingers wrapped around the handle, raw desire coursed through him. He heard a voice jabbering in his ear. He cocked his head and listened.

Reserve, Louisiana

Once they were inside the house, Nathan sent the boy to take a shower while he made several calls. The town of Reserve lacked a proper crime scene investigation unit. The rare murder was usually handled by the state bureau. Nathan called George Wilson, a part-time forensic expert the department had used in the past, Steve Mallar a man he could count on to be discreet and Spencer Davis a personal friend of his at the Coroner’s office in New Orleans. After a brief conversation with Steve, no questions asked except when and where, Nathan hung up the phone and proceeded to check the locks on the windows and doors.

Jar emerged from the bathroom freshly showered. He knew Nathan was about to leave him alone. The claustrophobia he had felt out in the woods was back. An unseen element was moving through the dense trees, circling within the starless night, squeezing the air from his lungs and making his heart whir madly. He had only to voice his fears and the man would certainly stop checking the locks, stop his preparations to leave but he didn’t know how to ask for help. Barry, his only male role model, would have derided his fear and called him weak.

After checking the backdoor for the third time Nathan said, “No one comes in, understand?” He crossed through the kitchen and living room. At the front door he issued another command. “Bolt it after I leave. I promise I won’t be gone long.”

Jar nodded mutely, knowing whatever was coming for him wouldn’t be stopped by thumb-locks or deadbolts. He stood with his hand on the doorknob waiting for Nathan to turn back and stay, or wave his hand for Jar to come join him in the truck.

At the bottom of the stairs Nathan did turn. He said, “Don’t wait until I leave, go ahead and lock it.” He waited until the door closed and the dead bolt slid into place.

Still believing in the sanctity of locks and the element of time Nathan drove away convincing himself nothing would happen to the boy in the short time he would be gone.

In another time and place a random act of violence would not likely have found the boy. And, if it did, it might have been dissuaded by the locks and the presence of a one hundred and sixty pound dog. On this night however, the element was not random and it was already there, army-crawling through the long grass, cutting a swath from the forest toward the front porch of the little house.

*

Jar curled up with Agador on Nathan’s bed and fell into a fitful sleep. He was just starting to drift into a deeper sleep when he felt Agador sit up abruptly.

He rose up next to the hound, mumbling, “What is it Agador?”

Whining, the dog jumped off the bed. His passage toward the front of the house marked by the sound of his nails clicking against the wood floor.

Scrambling off the bed, Jar hurried after the large hound.

Agador stood several feet back from the front door. Low whines started deep in his chest and transformed into a cross between a low howl and a guttural bark. Something outside the house was causing him distress.

Looking around the room for a weapon, Jar spotted a wrought iron poker near the fireplace. He gave it a test swing followed by a quick jab. The image of Suzy being impaled by the pulsing black mass flashed through his mind. He looked doubtfully at his weapon, hoping whatever was agitating the dog was human.

Agador worked himself into a frenzy. He scraped frantically at the floor where it met the front door. Beneath the fresh scratches, old gouges, grey with time, marred the wood. It was not the first time the hound had performed this particular trick. He stopped scratching, turned and bumped his massive head against Jar’s legs. He whined, and bumped the boy again trying to push him closer to the door.

Amazed by the hound’s intelligence Jar struggled with his own apprehension and the dog’s obvious urgency. If danger lurked just outside the door would the dog want him to open the door? Still, he had promised Nathan. Grabbing Agador’s collar he tried to pull him away from the door. The hound outweighed him. Jar’s feet slid against the floor until he was seated. The dog hadn’t budged. Agador leapt up against the door, taking the boy along for the ride. Standing, the hound was six feet tall. Jar let go and tumbled back down to the floor.

Circling away, Agador approached the door with speed and jumped. The solid wood portion of the door remained undamaged but one of the decorative panes of glass cracked under the assault.

Jar touched the hairline crack running through the center square of glass.
We’ve been breached from the inside. If someone’s out there they could just smash the pane of glass reach inside and turn the bolt.
Coming to a decision, he reached for the bolt with a trembling hand. The bolt slid back. He opened the door an inch. Agador pushed his snout through the opening, muscled his way out and disappeared into the night.

Jar threw the bolt back in place, slid down the door and cried at the loss of his guardian.

*

Griffin watched from the trees as the dog bounded in his direction. He gripped the machete with both hands and braced himself ready to take the dog out. At the last minute the dog hesitated, almost like it knew it was being watched, like it knew it was running toward its own death. The dog swung its massive head toward the right, sniffed the air and whined. It looked toward Griffin’s hiding spot, sniffed the air again and trotted off toward the woods.

Realizing Jared Riley was alone in the house, Griffin started forward. He was about to cross the distance from the grass to the porch when he saw a girl approaching through the field. The machete thrummed in his hand. Images of what he would do to the children flickered in his mind. He crouched in the long grass and waited.

*

In the woods, Nute waited for Nathan’s hound to find him. He had brought meat to lure Agador and to mask the musty scent of death emanating from the girl traveling across the field to do his bidding.

Everything was nearly in place. Nathan Singer would not be a willing participant in the events about to unfold—he would never willingly give the boy up for sacrifice. He would have to be coaxed, he would have to be convinced there was no other path to the end except the one provided. Any man could be made to kill but, like honing a fine blade, it took time and care to do it right.

Agador broke through the bushes. When the dog spotted Nute, he froze but his giant head involuntarily swung from side to side trying to locate the scent of fresh meat.

Nute coaxed him. “Come now Agador is dis what you want?” He held up his pack. The dog approached wagging his tail and snuffing the ground.

He smiled, scratched the large hound behind the ears and reached inside his pack to pull out the package of hamburger meat. Agador gulped the meat down like he hadn’t been fed in days. When the powder started to take affect the dog looked at him with eyes that could have been human in their understanding. Too late, he tried to run but the drug had already started to do its job. His legs gave out and he fell heavily to the ground.

Nute stepped away from the dog and looked out over the field. He saw the figure of the girl disappear around the side of the house. The girl would take the boy to Elise’s altar and soon the whole ordeal would be over. Nute squatted down and rolled Agador onto a tarp. He did not see the figure of a man moving stealthily through the grass.

*

Jar waited in the living room for Agador to return. Holding the iron poker, he propped himself up in Nathan’s favorite chair and watched the front door, hoping he would hear Agador scraping to get back inside. Fighting weeks of exhaustion, his eyelids were the first to betray him. Feeling like fifty-pound weights, they drooped. He did his best to lift them up again but unable to resist their heaviness they came down and his chin fell to his chest and against his will, he slept.