It was just after sunset when I heard the knock on the door. Authoritarian, demanding. The knock of an official on official duties. I'd been expecting it all day, and had sat on the couch after Brianna had called me to let me know nothing had changed, waiting for that knock on the door. I sighed, set down my last bottle of orange soda and walked to the door.
When I opened it Sheriff Wesley stood in front of me.
"Come in," I told him, stepping to the side.
"You need to come down to the station, Mister Foster," he told me, stepping inside. I shut the door behind him. "I'm going to need to to place you under arrest."
I walked past him, deliberately turning my back on him. "So Gail called you this morning, did she, Sheriff?"
"There's people in the hospital. There are people dead," he told me. "There are witnesses who saw you committing serious, felonious assaults."
"So?" I asked him.
"I'm sworn to uphold the law. You can't run around hurting people, Foster," The Sheriff said. "This isn't a god damned action movie, you can't do this!"
"Apparently I can. Since when has any of that ever mattered, Sheriff?" I asked him, facing away. "You've looked away for so long, and now you suddenly care?"
"I have always upheld the law," he stated.
"Unless the Keagans or the Haverstons are involved. Unless a junkie is involved," I shrugged, still facing away from him. "After all, we wouldn't want to get in the way, would we?"
Aine had told me everything I needed to know when she was talking to the Sheriff right at the table.
And I'd missed it.
"Paul Foster, you're under..." he started, stepping forward and grabbing my right arm.
I twisted, taking control of his arm, forcing him on his knees. I was staring off into the distance, not really seeing the snow outside the sliding glass door. I heard a rumble outside that quickly died away. The storm was back, we'd passed through the eye of the storm already.
"You can't get away," the Sheriff gasped when I put some pressure on the arm.
"Why not?" I asked quietly, still staring at the dancing snow. "You've gotten away with it since, what, 1970? Maybe even before then."
He looked up at me and I saw actual fear in his eyes.
"When did it start, Sheriff? After Hamburger Hill? While you in Walter Reed?" I asked him.
"What, what do you mean?" He asked me.
"Everyone in the military knows about it," I told him, still staring out the glass. "We talk about it late at night in the NCO Club."
He swallowed thickly.
"Heroin, Sheriff," I said, still watching the snow flurry around. I pulled him up, keeping control of his arm. I could feel the stiffness under his shirt with my arm as I shifted his body. He gave a low groan of pain at the pressure. "I know, Sheriff. I know all of it."
He stared at me, his eyes wide.
"Bring it in hidden inside a section of a hollowed out log, take it to the mill, send it out with the lumber," I said. "Gail's family's mill, Dave's family's trucks," I shook my head. "Your contacts in Vietnam and Cambodia."
His mouth was opening and closing slowly. I stared out the window, staring into the snow.
"Kansas is perfect. The middle of the Mid-West. The feds don't look this deep," I sighed. "All of that, even your hand in destroying my life, my childhood, I could have forgiven."
His mouth was gaped open, his eyes wide as he looked at me.
"But what did it, after Hamburger Hill, when you worked in the mortuary, Sheriff, that it's going to happen the way it's going to happen now," I told him. "And why I called a friend this morning, and told him all about my suspicions."
"But, but, I didn't," he started. "What friend?" he asked me. He hadn't really noticed that I was still staring at the snow flurries out the window.
"He was really really interested.in all of this, Sheriff. Really interested in your part in it all," I told him. "Without the Vietnam connection, which you downplay all the time, it doesn't make sense."
"But I'm," he started again.
The back door opened and the same three junkies came in. The same three bastards who'd been on my ass since the store. They weren't in good shape, the one I hated the most had his jaw wired shut and the other had his arm in a cast.
"You might wanna leave, Sheriff," The one with the cast said. He waved the shotgun at me. "Gail wants to see Paul here."
The Sheriff nodded as I let him loose.
"Goodbye, Mister Foster, I don't think I'm going to see you again," The Sheriff said, straightening up. "You or your crazy theories."
The three junkies looked at him. "What theories?" the one with the cast asked.
"He called the feds, told them I was smuggling heroin," The Sheriff scoffed, shaking his head.
They both frowned. "That'll bring the feds. You going to be able to handle them?"
He shrugged. "I'll point at the dead men, say Mister Foster here went crazy and killed them, and that should handle it," He got a sly look. "It'll cost the Keagans though. You tell them that."
The Sheriff looked at me. "Guess it's over after all, Foster."
The junkies moved in on me, but I didn't care. I was looking at the Sheriff. "
They grabbed my arms and started walking me toward the back patio. I looked over my shoulder, seeing the Sheriff opening my front door.
"Be seeing you, Sheriff," I told him.
"Doubtful," Was all he said. The helpful small town Sheriff act he'd put on in my kitchen was gone.
The door shut.
The guy with the shotgun slammed it into my stomach, doubling me over, and before I could recover, he slammed it into the back of my head. I sagged in their grip, but didn't go down. Still, I hung loose, letting them figure I was worse off than I was.
I'd seen how it was coming and shifted enough that the majority of the force of the blow had glanced off my skull.
Didn't make things any easier as they drug me out to the car. The same Trans-Am they'd been riding around in.
It had a dent in the hood.
They shoved me into the back of the car. Right before the driver got in he stopped and looked at the driveway.
"Hey, isn't that Dave's mini-bike? That stupid dirt-bike he's always going on about?" He said.
The one with his jaw wired nodded.
"Hey, Jared, get out and help me put it in the trunk," The driver said.
"Man, why do I always got to do the shit work, Barry?" The one already in the front seat asked. I was in the back, next to the one with his jaw wired shut.
I let myself hang loosely, moaning slightly and stirring a little, then going limp again. He smacked me on the head but I was limp and it did little more than rattle me slightly. After a minute the back end sagged and the trunk shut. The doors opened and closed.
"Dave better appreciate we got that bike back," The driver, Barry, said.
"Let's go, it's about an hour to Winsome Lake with the roads all snowed over," Jared, the passenger said. He lit a cigarette as the car backed up, skidding a little on the road, and then pulled out.
The road was slick, and the Trans-Am driver was pushing the car. Accellerating too hard on the corners, braking wrong coming into them. The car slid several times and I couldn't help myself from trying to keep my balance.
The one with the wired jaw grabbed my jacket collar and pulled me upright.
"He awake?" Jared asked.
"Uh-huh," the one next to me said.
"Don't fuck him up, Gail said she wants him intact," The driver said.
"Jaw," Mr. Wired Shut managed to get out, then groaned with pain.
"Yeah, yeah, you want to get him back for your jaw and what he did to the Trans-Am," Barry said, braking too early again. The car slid slightly, almost spun out, but Barry corrected in time, even though we slid for a good twenty feet.
"Dude, be careful, we're got like thirty miles to go," Jared said. He flicked his cigarette out the window. "My fucking arm hurts."
"Can I have one of those?" I asked. I looked down, then buckled my seat belt.
The one with the wired jaw backhanded me. Rolling my head helped, but he still split my lips.
"Don't think he wants you to have one," Barry laughed. He lit one for himself and blew smoke in his face. "I'm still a little pissed about my arm, Paul. But Gail's paying for you to be delivered intact," he looked at the one next to me. "So stop hitting him."
The guy next to me growled and looked out the window. His face was swollen badly and discolored under the bandage. I'd hit him more than I'd meant to, well, that wasn't quite true, I'd meant to hit him that many times, I just hadn't planned on it.
The sight didn't evoke any feeling.
The singing emptiness still filled me.
We drove until we turned off onto the dirt road that led up to the cabins that were by the lake. The car bounced in the ruts left by another vehicle, a dualie truck, until suddenly the one beside me spoke.
"Stop. Here," he managed to get out.
"Why?" The driver asked.
"Stop," He gritted out.
"Fine," he pulled over onto a road that led to one of the cabins. Gail's family cabin was a ways further, but the driver pulled over and stopped.
"Out," the guy next to me growled.
"Fine. But we're delivering him intact," The other said. "Don't hit him in the head or in the face."
"Fine," The guy managed to get out, then groaned.
The other two got out, pulling the seats forward. The driver grabbed my jacket and pulled me out. Not bothering to do much more than grab my arms with the other one. The one I'd busted up the face of walked around the back of the trunk, motioning at the others.
They pulled me around the back of the car, holding onto my arms. The one with the busted face stared at me, glaring at me through the swelling and bruises. He held up his fingers and made a circle. Nothing happened and he snapped his fingers before repeating it.
"Oh, put him against the trunk?" Barry asked. Busted Face nodded.
Jared laughed. "I get it. Heh, remind him that he ain't shit."
Busted face nodded again, tried to smile, and groaned.
The two of them pulled me around and I held still, staying silent. They pulled at me twice until the one with the cast lost his temper and slammed it against the back of my head. It knocked me loopy for a second and I slammed against the trunk.
Busted Jaw's hand slid down the back of my pants, his fingers searching till he found what he wanted. I just stood there as he pushed a finger into me, quickly, cruelly, and then yanked it out.
"Still tight," Busted Jaw managed to get out, his laughing distorted.
"I don't think Gail's gonna care if we fuck his ass raw," Jared said. He thumped his cast on my back. "Get a little payback for what he did to us."
I heard a belt rattle behind me as Barry reached underneath me. It shifted their leverage, loosened their grip. I spread out my legs, gaining the balance I'd need. The shotgun was slapped on the trunk, up by the window.
"Check it out, opening his legs like a bitch," Jared laughed. He pulled his hand out from under me and slapped me on the ass. "Guess he really does like the cock like you said." The cast was laid on my back and Jared's fingers went for my belt again.
I rolled, turning, and their balance was off, their leverage was ruined by their actions. Their hands slipped off of me and I was up, taking short quick steps to my left, then going loose.
The three of them stared at me. Busted-Face's pants were around his knees, his erection bobbing in front of him. Barry had his out too, but Jared was still in the middle of undoing his pants.
Before, when I was younger, I would have been afraid, terrified, crying because I knew what was going to happen, how badly it was going to hurt me.
The fear tried to coalesce but slid into the emptiness and dissolved into nothingness.
Before the could do anything, before they could move, I moved in on them. I broke Barry's knee with a strike of my boot, spun, and had my hands on Jared's cast before he could react. He did scream when I cracked the plaster cast over my knee, letting go and turning on Busted-Face, who was staring at me in shock. I punched him in the jaw, watching him fall back, holding his jaw and screaming.
I turned back to Barry and Jared. Before either could do anything much more than beg me for their lives, I left them in the snow, their bodies limp but still alive. I used the maroon phone cable to wrap around their necks, impinging their blood flow and breathing, but not strangling them, knotting them together.
Then I turned back to Broken-Jaw, who had managed to struggle to his feet.
He tried to scream as I moved forward, my hands coming straight out, and I wrapped my hands around his neck before I taking him to the ground. I put my knee in his stomach and squeezed, watching his eyes bulge out.
It was dark, and snow was still drifting around us as I stared in his eyes as I clenched my hands. I ignored training, which said to roll my thumbs to crush the trachea. I didn't even keep steady pressure. I'd wait until this clawing and smacking at my arms slowed before I'd loosen my grip so he could inhale.
Which woke him back up. He'd panic again, struggle, and I'd choke him again, staring into his eyes, not saying a word.
Letting go of the pressure I let him gasp out a single word, his mouth edged with foam, his eyes bloodshot, his face purplish. The pressure of my grip had made the cuts on the side of his nose and on one side of his mouth open back up.
"Please," he groaned.
I just stared down at him.
"Why, Paul Foster, a gift in the ancient style. Aodan has indeed taught you well," the voice said.
I looked up into Tauth du Aine's ancient glowing eyes. She smiled at me, her mouth full of interlocked sharp teeth. "Here, my daughter's beautiful one. Use this," She held out a razor sharp curved piece of bone, one end carved into a handle.
I leaned back, letting the half-conscious man drop all the way into the snow, and took the offered blade.
"Cut here, and here, first, beautiful one," Tauth du Aine said, still smiling. She motioned at her own nude torso to demonstrate.
A quick check behind me showed that the other two were unmoving. I looked back and Tuath du Aine squatted down, smiling. I looked down, then slit his shirt.
I knew what she wanted. Aine had once described it.
I ignored his screams, muffled by his jaw wired shut, and cut below his ribs on each side.
"Now reach inside, beautiful one. You will be able to feel them flutter. Pull them from inside of him," Tuath du Aine told me.
It was hot and wet inside of him, my fingers pushing deep inside of him. I felt what she was talking about and clenched them in my fingers, pulling out the bottom of his lungs.
He stopped struggling, going limp, going into shock.
"Pull his beating heart from his chest, beautiful one, and give it me," Tuath du Aine's voice was breathless, full of a pleasure I couldn't understand.
Or maybe I could.
The emptiness inside of me sang as I reached inside him with one hand, shoving it deep inside. When my fingertips grazed it Tuat du Aine gasped, her head tilting back, her eyes glowing brightly as she exhaled bright green motes.
"Yes, yes, beautiful one," she gasped.
I grabbed it and pulled it free, tearing it from the tissue holding it inside.
When I held it toward her, it was still flexing, still convulsing. She gave a raw, primal cry, and her head darted down. Her teeth grazed my skin before her head went back. She swallowed, the lump moving down her throat.
She shuddered, those hands, the fingers with too many joints grabbing the snow and frozen dirt as she clenched her hands. She shuddered again, then looked at me.
"Are those other mine? To devour alive?" She asked.
I nodded.
"It is winter, yet you offer me this freely?" She purred.
I nodded again.
She smiled, standing up and holding her hand out to me. "Then rise, beautiful one. This is weregild indeed. I found the other, where you left him tied on such lovely platter, his blood dripping on the snow, and I devoured him there while I listened to the shrieks of joy of children from summers past. You are indeed as respectful as you are beautiful."
I rose to my feet and when she released my hand I bowed to her.
"The blade, if you would, Paul. It should not remain here," she told me.
It was blackened bone. Razor sharp. Twisting runes carved into it. She was right, it didn't belong here. I handed it to her with a smile. When she took it back, I turned around, Tuath du Aine followed me, reaching down to grab the two men.
"Go forth, beautiful one. Collect the weregild I demand, the weregild you seek," She told me. She turned around, walking toward the man I'd killed. "I shall feed, and grow plump, on this offering."
I nodded. I watched her walk, watched her move as she walked over to the still steaming body.
I turned away from her, stopping at the car to pick something up off the dash. I did something to it. Something that only took a moment but I knew, just knew, would matter. When I saw the pack of cigarettes and the lighter I grabbed them too, lighting one and putting the cigarettes and the lighter in my breast pocket.
And walked into the dark and cold.
Gail was only a mile or so beyond.
She knew I was coming.
She was there with her father-in-law and Dave.
It would be rude to keep them waiting.
It was snowing in the darkness as I walked down the rutted road, my hands in the pockets of my denim jacket.
I wasn't afraid.
There weren't monsters in the dark and cold of Kansas.