Minus Tide Page 14

  “You should have told me. If you’d told me we could’ve run farther away from everything instead of coming back here. I think we’re doomed to die in Traitor.”

  “No way. Not if I can help it.”

  “It’s already too late, James. This isn’t small time stuff anymore. These guys…”

  “What?”

  "They’re serious…”

  “You’re going to sleep, Ann. I’m sorry about everything. I really am.”

  And James was right about her getting sleepy. She felt as if she were falling back onto a cloud of cottonwood down. Sinking further down with every exhale. She thought she was still talking to him but she wasn’t.

  Chapter 41

  James stomped the gas and headed south down 101. He kept checking the rearview mirror but saw only trees and an occasional house. The power was still out and the windows that weren’t shuttered were all black and reflecting stars. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that the sheriff was going to be coming up behind him some time very soon. It was impossible of course. He’d seen him lying on the ground when he’d driven off, felt like he’d passed through another door that was bolted behind him. There was no returning to the place he knew. Or even a normal life again.

  The Skylark purred. It didn’t broadcast itself like the muscle car he’d driven up from San Diego. James allowed himself to marvel over his good luck although the course he’d taken was far from over and was really only beginning. Except for what happened to Cuke, he was having no regrets. Besides, it was the sheriff’s fault for letting the old man come along in the first place. What the hell was the idiot thinking?

  As he passed through town he wondered how many times he’d sat next to the highway on his bicycle, watching people come and go, guessing where they might be headed. The tourists weren’t hard to spot and the locals and the truckers he knew by heart. There were others, however, that never seemed to fit. They’d mostly stare ahead as they drove by but sometimes they’d look at him and he’d see something in their eyes that was too much, like having the sun reflected back in your face from a mirror. Their thoughts had been made visible in a flash, yet too fast for him to comprehend. But he understood them now. They were people much like he was. In a hurry to get away from something. Seeing potential terror wherever they turned, even in boys sitting on their Stingrays watching them from the roadside.

  Whatever happens you don’t stop. You don’t stop until you’re in Twin Falls. Or even further away than that if you need to.

  He came upon some work crews dressed in orange that were cutting up some downed trees with chainsaws. One of them waved at him as he went by. James thought he might have been yelling something about going too fast.

  Near the edge of town he looked for his parent’s mailbox. His mom had painted it fire engine red. It wasn’t hard to miss but somehow he had. Then he saw it was on the ground. The post it was attached to had been knocked down by the storm. He turned the car onto the shoulder and slowed up next to where it lay and turned off the car. His parent’s house was up a graveled drive and hidden in trees. No one inside would see him on the road.

  The mailbox was twisted some and he imagined his mother throwing a fit and going straight to the hardware store in Buoy to get a new one. She’d bought the first one when the trouble had started with his father. To show a proud family face to the rest of the world. He’d never asked her why she’d painted it red.

  The post was not damaged but hard for him to lift. He’d had to lean it on his good shoulder before picking it up and walking with it to the misshapen post hole. It went in and he stepped on the loose earth around the edges until he thought it would hold. He stared at the mailbox one last time. It looked more twisted at this angle than before, like he was looking head on at a fish swimming toward him. He lit a cigarette and inhaled. A smile broke his mouth apart and he laughed until he was overcome by a coughing fit.

  He got back into the car and began to drive fast up through a curving section of the highway. The Skylark couldn’t take the curves very well and the tires skidded and he almost went off the road twice before deciding that he was going to have to slow it down until he could trade it out for something that fit his needs. He cursed himself for being seduced.

  After he got over the first hill he began to make out the bridge that spanned the bay. Then it struck him. If the power was still out than why was the bridge lit up like a birthday cake?

  As he got closer he saw a glowing road sign telling him that the bridge was closed. Orange barrels with reflective tape blocked the entrance. He could see the shiny tops of hardhats and the play of flashlights. The movement of the lights ticking up and down made him think of insect antennae.

  He was supposed to have turned around by now. He steered the Skylark around a Dodge pickup parked in the middle of the road. It had a flashing yellow light bubble on top. There was a guy standing next to the truck, and when he saw the Skylark heading toward him he dropped his thermos and dove into the open door of the Dodge.

  Chapter 42

  Ann watched as Traitor formed itself from the curving outlines of land. Downtown buildings seemed to emerge from the earth like a dark fungi. There still wasn’t any power. She couldn’t remember a time when it took them this long to connect Traitor back onto the grid.

  She tried to ignore the pain in her leg. It was swelling and she imagined that when she got to the hospital they’d have to cut off her jeans. The last time she’d looked at her leg she’d seen a pink line moving up from the wound. Aunt Kate said it meant blood poisoning. If you didn’t take care of the infection, the line would keep moving up until it got to your heart and killed you. There was nothing she could do about it now but hope the salt water slowed the line’s progress.

  The outgoing current had picked up strength and Ann couldn’t believe she was moving at all. It felt as if she were trying to climb up an escalator. Every gain forward against the current was met by several lost. She revved the motor to its highest setting, afraid of how much gas it was eating up. The aluminum boat was no contest to the force of the water. She’d just have to go fast and watch for logs conspiring to sink her.

  As she worked her way around an island known for its talkative crows she noticed a glow of light coming from the distant bridge. She wondered if Mitch and Tammy had found help, if they were looking for her in the bay.

  The fishing ramp was less than a mile away.

  Chapter 43

  James screamed as wooden barricades split across the front of the Skylark. I’ve been living under a shadow for too long. Writhing in this molt of dysfunctional everything, waiting for this day. Breaking out. Maybe the moth catches on fire and dies. Maybe it gets through the flame and survives.

  The bridge pulsated with moving flashlight beams. Road crew workers dressed in yellow rain gear were running toward the rails. James fed the Skylark another hit of gas and in an instant he saw their frightened faces blur past.

  He didn’t see the tractor until it was too late.

  Chapter 44

  Seeing Elk Woman down on the river reminded him of his mother. Of watching his mother in her black shroud as she paddled the boat onto the icy river so she could be in the exact spot where his father’s car had gone down. Searching for any messages in the water that might have surfaced. His final thoughts scrolled across the brown water where the ice had broken away. Information about his murderers and who the family could trust. And most importantly, if there was money hidden that she needed to know about.

  “Get into the boat, Mikhail.”

  “No. I don’t want to go near that water.”

  “You mustn’t be afraid. There’s much more to learn than being able to understand a person’s sleep-talk. That’s only the beginning. Let me teach you how to find the dead-talk.”

  “I don’t want to learn it. I don’t want you to teach me any more of that stuff.”

  He knew that she wouldn’t argue with him about it. Nor did she feel hurt. She knew her son needed to ta
ke his time going over things. His father was also wired that way. Obsessed with details. Hammering at them to see if they could be broken into smaller pieces.

  She’d paid a man to haul the rowboat in his truck, the one Mikhail and his father used for lake fishing. When he was a child and his father was happy and hadn’t started having the severe anxiety attacks that his mother treated with a special tea from the old days. He’d hated to see the boat go out on the dirty river. Was afraid that it would be lost with his father. He’d only wanted it to continue leaning against the back of the house. Taking it away was like taking the best memory of his father away.

  But he had, in the end, learned the dead-talk. He still heard his mother’s voice every day.

  Chapter 45

  When James opened his eyes he thought he was floating between blue clouds. Except they weren’t clouds at all but buckled up metal covered in windshield glass. He heard shouting. Black smoke blew into his face and made him cough. The door shuddered next to him as someone struggled to pull it open. Hands reached inside and pulled him away from the Skylark as the hood caught fire.

  They carried him around to the other side of the tractor where someone had parked a Subaru Outback. After he was set on the ground he heard a woman say she was going to get the first aid kit off the back of the caterpillar.

  “Did he hit anybody?” someone asked. James opened his eyes and waited for the murkiness to go away. While he lay in partial shock he took inventory of his injuries, was surprised that he’d only had some bloody scratches. His ear still throbbed from when the sheriff jammed him with his pistol barrel.

  “No. Just the cat thank god. But Jim Love lost his grip and fell into the bay.”

  “Goddamn. Did the fall knock him out?”

  “No. They’re talking to him. He’s trying to stay in our lights. Bill is on his way. We’re taking his car down to the marina to get a boat. I told the crew to move the lights over on Jim so we can keep an eye on him. Pete’s going to lower a safety line down. Maybe he can get it tied around him.”

  “How’s he keeping from being swept down river?”

  “There’s some rungs on the center bridge support. I don’t now how much longer he can hold on, but he’s one strong son of a bitch.”

  A tall bearded man approached them. His eyes were pale blue like the car and he stared at James. A woman rushed past him with the first aid kit and sat on her knees next to James. She said her name was Kathy. She had a kind face.

  “What are you doing back in Traitor?” Bill said. James pretended not to see him, rolled his eyes up and watched the stars above to think about something else other than Bill Calder standing over him with murder in his eyes. If there wasn’t any dark space between them they wouldn’t even be stars, he thought to himself.

  “You know him Bill?” Jeff asked.

  “Yeah I know him. We go way back. Last I heard, he’d gone AWOL or something down in Mexico. What we’re doing James? Trying to run down me and my crew?”

  “Leave him,” Kathy said. She got the emergency blanket out of its package and unfolded it. Jeff bent down and helped her spread it over James. Kathy grabbed a roll of gauze from the kit and started working on his scratches. James gazed blankly at her.

  “You’re going to be okay honey. Help will be on the way.”

  James closed his eyes.

  “I’d prefer that you left me and him alone for a while,” Bill said.

  “I bet you would. He’s in shock, Bill. Might have brain damage. I think he’s got blood coming out of his ear.”

  “I’d say the brain damage happened before he tried to kill us.”

  Kathy stopped and looked up. She’d always hated it when Bill was in one of his swaggering moods. Talking as if he were some badass. Trying to act like he wasn’t the coward he was.

  “I’m not going to sit here and let you do anything. So just forget it.”

  “He almost killed us, Kath. He’s probably drunker than a skunk. It’ll be too late for a blood test by the time help comes and he’ll get away with a warning.”

  “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

  “The guys would back me if we said I’d found him that way. Crushed skull and all…”

  “I really doubt that would happen,” Kathy said. She finished taping the gauze that held James’ ear.

  “Forget him, Bill,” Jeff said. It wouldn’t be worth it. You do something and he’ll never get the fun of going to jail. Come on. Let's go see if we can help Jim.”

  “Okay. Have it your way. But if he ends up walking away from this with nothing but probation I’m going to be pissed. This boy is no good.”

  “I believe you,” Jeff said. He turned around and walked toward the Subaru. Bill stared down at James a little longer before he followed Jeff.

  As soon as both men had their backs facing him, James ripped away the foil blanket and pointed the.38.

  “You’re not going anywhere with that car.”

  Kathy put her hands to her face and screamed. The men spun around on their heels, startled. James stood up and the foil blanket slid onto the ground and rustled as the wind pushed it away. For the first time all night he realized how much better he was feeling about himself. How the musty stacks of money and Ann’s.38 had cultivated a take-charge attitude in him. That and a real hated of Bill and what he did to his family when he got home from drinking most nights.

  I had it lucky if you wanted to make comparisons, James thought. And that’s what made Bill’s kids so mean. He supposed that the way Bill thought was the only way he knew. That you had to make them tough so they’d be ready for a tough world. He’d once stood by idly watching his three boys beat the hell out of James for fishing in what they believed was their polluted trout pond.

  “I thought you said he was hurt bad,” Bill said.

  Kathy ignored Bill. She turned to James and stared into his eyes. “You don’t want to shoot anyone James.”

  “No I don’t, ma’am. I just want the keys to this car.”

  “Hell if you do,” Bill shouted. When he took a step forward, James fired the.38 over the man’s shaved head.

  He thought of the moth flying through the flame. Saw the sullen face of Bill’s daughter when he’d tried to walk her home one night after school. He’d wanted to take her out to the movies but she kept telling him she couldn’t. And then later she’d fallen during track and when he’d picked her up his eye had caught the bruises on her inner thighs.

  “I will put you down, Bill Calder. Watch and see.”

  Chapter 46

  After Ann tied the boat she pulled herself up the staircase to the parking lot, her leg dragging behind her. Hurt so bad she’d started crying. When she got to the top she saw two cars. Hers and someone else’s. Hers had blown over onto its side. It took her a moment to recognize Chad’s bug. She couldn’t believe he was here. The driver had turned on the lights when she’d come up. She thought she saw him and waved and he waved back.

  When she got to Chad’s car she was overcome with the need to get warm again. She opened the passenger door and got in. Right away she asked herself if Chad had grown a beard. Thought it strange that it wasn’t blond. His hands, however, were not the same ones she knew. The nails were not painted black. They looked more like dirty claws.

  “Hello Ann,” Cyclops said.

  “Who are you?” Ann asked. She reached for the door handle but his hand shot out and stopped her.

  “I will tell you.”

  “What have you done to Chad?”

  “He’s around.”

  “Where?”

  “I promise you’ll see him. After we talk.”

  Ann glanced down and saw the Cyclops’ trench coat piled on the floor. The only person she had seen wear something like that had been the derelict she’d seen on the highway.

  Chapter 47

  He’d learned early on that you had to complete things. If you let go of stray ends they came back and choked you.

  He’d
buried her. But he hadn’t killed her.

  When they reached San Diego he’d checked them into a quiet motel a few blocks from the beach. He thought he’d only stay with her a couple of nights but it turned into a week. There was plenty of business to be done in Tijuana, people to meet. In the evenings he’d cross back over the border and return to their motel. He often found her inside the room crying and he’d hold her until it got dark and then take her out to the pool and float around in it with her. He could’ve done it then, he remembered thinking later. She was drunk enough most nights. The cops would just think it was an accident.

  One night she told him she couldn’t go through with it. That she wouldn’t survive living like fugitive. Without her daughter in her life. She told him she’d rather die.

  He didn’t know what to say to that. He’d been alone on his own for so long that he could only imagine how deep the hurt must have gone.

  He tried to think of what else they could do. He told her that with his connections he might be able to help her relocate in Mexico. Eventually get the girl down there with her. But it was only an idea. It would take time. A lot of things would have to be arranged. And it would take some money to make it work. Money he didn’t have right now.

  It was late one night when he got back to the motel, too late to go out to the pool and drink with her. As soon as he opened the door he realized something was wrong. She was gone. Hadn’t packed anything. He told himself not to panic. Walked around the motel thinking he might see her coming back from the gas station store with cigarettes. An hour later he checked a couple of bars near the motel. Nothing. She’d vanished.

  He kept looking but still couldn’t find her. Sat up all night waiting for her to come back. Calling the police was out of the question. By morning he left her a note on the bed and took a drive down to a strip of seedy bars. He went into some and asked around. After midnight he went inside a dive they’d been to a couple of times. Everyone sitting at the bar turned around and stared at him. Old men elbowed one another and laughed, and a big man with tattooed arms sneered. When Mikhail stared back the man paid and left, the geezers turned back to their drinks. He talked to a cocktail waitress who said Ann’s mother had come in the night before. Dressed only in a bathrobe with a bathing suit underneath. She’d ignored the glances of the men sitting around and ordered several drinks. The waitress said she’d catch cold if she wasn’t careful and the woman had laughed. Had told her that where she was planning to swim was always warm.