The Drought (46 page)

Aiming the gun, Daniel braced his arm with his left hand to keep it from shaking. He leaned in close to make sure he didn’t miss and pulled the trigger. Frank Malone’s head exploded against the floor.

Daniel whispered. “I hope Eloise never finds out it was me, Frank.”

Still shaking, Daniel picked up the duffle bag and walked out of the station.

Reserve, Louisiana

Narried knelt beside Nathan Singer. She had torn away what was left of his pant leg to get a better look at his wound and tied a tourniquet around his thigh but there was no escaping the fact he had lost quite a bit of blood. She murmured more to herself than to Nute, “If we can get over to de café I could do some’ting with dis.”

Barely conscious, Nathan listened to the lilting voice of Narried Savoi. It was a soothing sound like the lapping waves of the Mississippi and he felt at home with her light touch. The strong smell of cedar and cypress surrounded him and even the musty odor of dirt brought back flashes of his childhood. Whatever happened he was glad he had come home to Reserve.

Agador bounded into the clearing, a long rope trailing behind him. Drawn by the smell of blood and the fear accompanying the metallic scent he crouched down on his belly and crawled toward Nathan Singer. Whining, he nudged the man with his snout.

Feeling his old friend, Nathan reached out and stroked the dog’s snout. “Hey, where’d you come from? Don’t you worry about me, ol’ man. I’m going to be just fine.”

Narried watched the scene between Nathan and his dog contemplating her options. Coming to a decision she gave a slight nod to Nute.

On her cue Nute bent down to scoop Nathan into his arms.

Agador bared his teeth, positioning himself between the two men.

Nathan grunted in surprise. In all his years he had never seen his dog bare his teeth. It wasn’t in his nature. He rested his hand on the dog’s rump and said, “Why don’t you two leave me here? In this condition I’m just going to slow you down.” He was terrified of being moved. The pain was already unbearable.

Ignoring Nathan’s and Agador’s protests, Nute scooped the Sheriff up into his arms. He tried to move slowly to prevent hurting the injured leg but there was no avoiding the inevitable. After taking two strides, he felt Nathan go limp in his arms.

Narried and Agador trailed behind Nute as he carried Nathan with what appeared to be great ease. The ragged trio had gone about one hundred yards when they came across an unbelievable sight. Half-hidden behind a small copse of trees, Daniel Dupier’s squad car sparkled like a precious gem beneath the moon.

Grinning in disbelief Nute watched as Narried approached the vehicle. Opening the driver’s door, she reached in and pulled down the visor. Keys slid out and fell into her waiting hand. Smiling, she clucked. “De Loa be wit us tonight.”

Reserve, Louisiana

After killing Frank Malone, Daniel returned to Nathan’s truck certain the boy would be gone. He was wrong. The boy remained balled up on the floorboard. Swearing softly to himself, he threw the duffle bag onto the seat and reached down to drag the boy out of his hiding place. As he made purchase on the boy’s shirt he felt something bump against his legs. Believing it to be the door closing, he kicked out a foot to stop its movement.

Two strong hands grabbed his calf.

Jerking in surprise, he turned, half expecting Frank Malone to be standing beside the truck with pieces of his brain splattered across his uniform.

It wasn’t Frank.

It was the man who had killed Elise.

The sight of the man from a distance had been frightening but up close the term “man” was a loose descriptor lacking accuracy. The thing’s face was burned away, it was missing an ear and sand was embedded in the charred flesh. Blood stained the lower portion of his face and small red globs clung to his chin like tiny leeches. It took a moment but his mind finally identified the globs. Not leaches, remnants of Elise. The image of this thing devouring his sister’s uterus flashed through his mind.

*

Daniel scrambled across the seat, hit the latch on the passenger door and tried to dive through the opening when the thing gave his leg a hard jerk. He heard a pop and felt his kneecap come out of its socket. A rush of pain followed.

Stifling a scream, he swiveled, twisting to get leverage. For a moment the two faced each other, entwined like teenage lovers. The creature gripped Daniel’s face in one hand and ran his tongue from chin to eye socket—a fetid odor wafted from its mouth. Daniel retched but a new, more urgent, sensation replaced his revulsion. Something sharp poked through his uniform and jabbed the soft part of his stomach.

Daniel struggled to get Frank Malone’s gun from his holster. The blade slid deeper. Daniel wedged the gun between him and the creature and fired off a shot. The impact of the gunshot spun the creature backward. Daniel slithered across the seat and fell out the passenger door. Amazingly, the duffle bag landed next to him.

In a hurry to get away, he stood and felt a flash of heat in his abdomen. Something inside him slipped. Breath held, he touched his midsection gingerly. His intestines were pressing against the slit. Pushing them back in, Daniel balled up the front of his shirt and held it tight against the opening in his belly. He grabbed the duffle bag with the other hand and hobbled away into the swirling smoke, dragging his injured leg.

He nearly made it across the street.

The toe of his shoe caught the curb and he spilled forward landing hard. The slit in his abdomen tore. He smelled his own intestines as they spilled out onto the dirty sidewalk. He shoved them back inside, clutched a wad of his shirt against the widening tear and tried to scoot down the sidewalk on his butt. He pushed off with his good leg, dragged the bag to him, pushed off, dragged the bag. He thought about what kind of car he would buy with the money in the bag. He’d always liked the Diablo. A nice car, the kind of car nobody ever saw in a shit town like Reserve. He bled out before he crawled nine yards and died with his hand still clutching the duffle bag.

Reserve, Louisiana

When they left the diner, Nathan had a strong chance of surviving his leg wound. Narried had cleansed the long, angry gash, while Nute held the screaming man in place. After cleaning it, she rubbed a special ointment inside the split flaps of skin, her fingers running lightly across exposed muscle. Nathan had ceased screaming, succumbing once again to oblivion.

Returning to the squad car they had no choice but to drive the deserted streets of Reserve in hope of sighting the boy and the man hunting him. Thick smoke swirled down through the streets, clinging to buildings and obscuring the familiar landscape. Narried put her small foot on the brake and slowed the cruiser, fussing under her breath. “The whole town’s on fire. Dat fool Dupier and his sister. This is all they fault.” She was not accustomed to driving and the car jerked forward, stopped and jerked forward again.

In the back seat Nute tried to keep Nathan’s injured leg stable. Each time the car jerked forward, Nathan moaned in pain. Without fail, Agador would raise his head up and cast an accusatory look at Nute.

Nute felt compelled to defend himself to the human-like eyes of the hound. “It is de only way. Don’t look at me dat way.” Speaking to Narried, he said, “Come now womon, you are going to kill dis mon.”

As they passed the Sheriff’s station the smoke swirled revealing an odd tableau in the parking lot.

Narried jerked the car to a stop. The two sat for a moment in silence, their eyes meeting in the rearview mirror. Finally she said, “I am gettin’ too old for dis.”

He smiled at her reflection, revealing his missing tooth. “Dis time we finish it proper or die tryin’. Either way girl, dis journey is almost done. ”

The logic in his words gave her strength. Steeling herself for the coming encounter she opened the door. A fleeting thought passed through her mind. She wondered what her life might have been if her father had entrusted her sister with the story of Brunache, the govi and the machete instead of her. It didn’t linger. She believed in destiny and knew like Nathan, the boy and his baseball, hers was unfolding just as the Loa had always intended. Adjusting her posture, she straightened and walked into the smoke filled night.

Reserve, Louisiana

Griffin Tanner could feel the ancient spirit getting stronger inside of him, trying to take control and he didn’t mind, but there was still unfinished business at hand. Jared Riley needed to be taught a lesson. Barry would have called it an educational moment. Lying across the bench seat of the truck, Griffin peered down at the boy balled up on the floorboard. Even before he saw the figure he had felt the boy’s presence, it was as if the two of them shared a link.

Jar didn’t move. He didn’t need to peer out of his hiding place to know Griffin Tanner was inside the truck, inches away. He had felt him coming through the woods following the truck as it maneuvered through the streets of Reserve.

He tensed as he sensed the hand descending toward his neck. The next thing he knew he was being yanked across the seat and through the driver’s door. There was no doubt in his mind he was going to die and at that moment he would have welcomed death. He understood now how Suzy had felt on the bridge. He had seen the little snick when the movie had stopped playing for her and he could feel something akin to it happening in his own mind. It was as if everything was happening outside of himself and he was just an observer.

He could see Jean-Claude dancing merrily behind Griffin Tanner’s eyes. Whatever name it chose to call itself, the ancient evil had found its new home and from what Jar could see it was a real comfortable fit.

*

Griffin squeezed Jared Riley’s tender neck. The boy’s face turned purple. He saw acceptance in Jared’s eyes as though the boy had already seen what was to come and didn’t object to the ending. It couldn’t be that easy. He wanted the boy to struggle, to beg for his life. Loosening his grip, he let the boy take a breath of the heavy air.

Instinct for survival overrode Jar’s passivity. Gasping, he tried to suck air into his deprived lungs.

Griffin smiled and said, “You know I killed your father.” He pointed at Nathan’s truck. “He drove a truck just like that one. After shooting him, I put him back in his piece of shit truck and let him sink to the bottom of the Llano River.”

Jar could feel things coming through the hand holding his throat. Images poured over him along with wisps of information he’d gleaned from his shared time in the darkness. Not knowing where the words came from or what they meant he said, “At least my mother didn’t abandon me.”

The words had an immediate effect. Griffin slammed him against the side of the truck.

Jar hit hard. He felt the precious breath of air he had managed to take leave his body and his tenuous grip on consciousness started to slip away. From there, he didn’t know what was real and what was dream, but he thought he saw the woman from the diner appear out of the thick smoke, the woman Nathan had called Narried. Her hips swayed as she moved and he had time to think he’d never seen a woman move like that. Each step she took was a fluid, rolling motion that made him think of dark water and a ship riding endless waves. He rode along on her swaying hips, cresting each wave until his fingers slipped and he slid beneath those dark waters and into unconsciousness.

Narried approached Brunache with a confidence she didn’t feel. If she knew the way of this creature’s mind, there would be little doubt he would know hers. It had troubled her, the fixation the spirit had for this particular boy, but Nathan had shared pieces of Jared Riley’s story and now she knew who she was dealing with. Beneath the dark spirit the gypsy’s son lived. She didn’t have time to dwell on the irony of both mother and son falling prey to the same spirit. Sometimes the Loa worked in mysterious ways. It was her belief there were people who were marked for tragedy; they drew evil the way a picnic draws ants.

Without turning to acknowledge her approach, his gravelly voice asked, “Narried Savoi, do you really think you can save this boy?” He pointed down at the lifeless body of Jared Riley.

“I didn’t come here for dat skinny little t’ing.” Her bravado was faked but it would have to do. If he suspected she had the slightest interest in the boy he would kill him immediately.