Awakenings (21 page)

“Did you keep him here against his will?” Cal asked.

Enid fingered the doily on her armrest and studied the tea set on the table.

“Enid…?” Cat prodded.

“We didn’t encourage him to leave. Eustace had use for him, and I truly believed he would have been hurt if he ventured forth. Folks ’round here weren’t as open-minded as us back then. Fred was a kindly man. A bit innocent. He was ill suited to handle a world of sinners. I kept him company so he wouldn’t be lonesome, taught him to play checkers, read the Bible. Fred took to the Good Book in a big way. Surprising, when you consider his sin.”

“His sin? Did he do something bad?”

“Not him. He was a kindly soul. Well, you know…?”

“No, we really don’t.”

“How he got the way he was. It was clear to anyone with eyes. One of his kin had lain with a beast. The Lord Almighty frowns upon the laying with beasts. It’s a dirty, vulgar sin. Wasn’t Fred’s fault what his mama or papa done, but he was begat of blasphemy.”

Tension crept into Cal’s spine. He could see it in Cat as well.

“Fursd prize, heh,” Eustace repeated.

“But, Enid, you married him,” Cat pointed out.

“I did.” She smiled at the thought of Fred. “He was a gentle soul, twice as wise for only half the man. A good friend. I realized the sacrifice I’d have to make. I couldn’t bring young’ins into the world. The devil’s blood had to end with Fred.”

“But that wasn’t all…?” Cal asked.

“He had to be purified. He was an offense to God.”

“So, you baptized him?” Cal said. A nagging thought knocked on the policeman’s brain. He ignored it. “You converted him to a born-again life.”

“Yes, but more than that. Eustace said he’d be hung before he’d let a beast lay with his sister. He didn’t trust me. Eustace said if I was going to be dang fool enough to tie my fortunes to Fred, he was going to exorcise the Devil from the man first.”

“What are you saying?” Seth asked. “You got a priest to exorcise him?”

“None of them papal devils ever step foot in this home, no sir. We got Fred the chair,” she said pointing to the folded wheelchair in the corner. “But he got terrible sick anyways after many weeks. Wasn’t quite right again. Eustace said the devil ran too deep, that it even polluted the man. I cared for Fred best I could.”

The knocking in Cal’s brain became a physical tumult. The photo, the wheelchair … He rose so fast, he jolted the teacups on the table. “We have to be going,” he said.

Cat looked confused. “Cal? Shouldn’t we tell Lelani…”

“We have to go, now!”

Suddenly, a loud crash blew the front door off its hinges, shaking the home as it bounced off the wall on the far end. Lelani advanced, holding a brown horsetail fastened by four ornate gold rings, and in the other hand rusted iron shackles. She drifted toward Enid holding the horsetail before her.

“Where is Fronik?” she asked in an eerie, calm voice.

“He had to be cleansed,” Enid cried. “I could not wed a filthy beast!”

“Where is Fronik?” Lelani demanded.

Eustace hopped excitedly in his chair, panting. “Fursd! Fursd! Fursd! Heh, Fursd!”

“Daughter of Lilith, I cast ye from my home!” Enid cried. “Leave this sanctuary of the Lord!”

“Lelani, let’s go outside,” Cal said.

“I want to know what happened to Fronik!”

“Now!” Cal ordered her.

“DEAD! HE’S DEAD! WE CUT THE DEVIL OUT, BUT HE WAS MORE BEAST THAN MAN!” Enid cried.

Cal stepped in front of Lelani and pushed her back. She nudged forward with blood in her eyes, moving him backward. Cat joined her husband, grabbing Lelani’s shoulder from the side and pulling with all her strength. Seth sat frozen on the couch.

“HELL HE COME FROM, AND HELL HE GONE BACK TO WHEN THE DEVIL COME CALLED HIS OWN!” Enid continued shouting.

“Seth! Help us!” Cat cried.

Even with Seth’s effort, Lelani crept forward.

Enid backed into the corner in fear. Eustace cackled, banging his cane against the end table. A wet spot grew in his crotch. “Fursd! Fursd!”

“Damn it, girl … I’m a cop,” Cal yelled. “I can’t let you hurt her! No matter what she did, you can’t hurt her!”

“Monster!” Lelani screamed.

Cal sandwiched her face in his hands and locked his eyes on hers. She tried to look at Enid, but he touched his forehead to hers and filled her view. “Listen to me! We cannot leave a trail of corpses behind us. Think of the Blue Forest. Think of your tribe. How will we complete the mission if we’re in jail? How could we search for the boy if we’re dogged by the police?”

At first they thought she hadn’t heard them, but soon, the bloodlust in Lelani’s eyes abated. She pulled away toward the door, throwing off balance everyone who was already pulling in that direction. She went outside. Cat followed, as did Seth. Cal turned to Enid, but was unsure of what to say. These people were indeed monsters. The blue ribbon won eleven years ago taunted him from the mantel piece. Cal tried not to imagine how they disposed of Fronik’s other half. There would be no stopping Lelani if she deduced Eustace’s
secret
ingredient. They had to leave before Lelani collected her thoughts.

“Get out!” Enid cried. “I’ll have no heathens in my house!”

“One last question. What direction did Fred come from the night he stumbled onto your farm?”

“Why should I help the devil’s minions?”

“Because I’m going to stand right here until I get an answer.” Cal stood there gazing at the old woman as the seconds ticked by. The old woman didn’t realize her life was in danger. She was as ignorant now as she was the day she met Fronik. Centaur codes were clear and absolute in these matters. Every second they lingered there gave Lelani an opportunity to come back and exact justice.

“North,” Enid said, begrudgingly. “Over the ridge. Now git!”

Her words rang true. She was too simple to lie well.

“We’re sorry to have bothered you and your brother. Thanks for the tea.”

Lelani and the others stood by the grave marker. Tears streamed down Lelani’s cheeks. She sang a haunted tune in Centauran that reminded Cal of some old Gaelic dirges he’d heard at cops’ funerals. He joined them, checking his watch sporadically. When she finished, she said, “I have to get off this world.”

Cal opened a map on the hood of the truck.

“Fronik came from that direction. That’s where we were headed before the detour. The gate is in the hills. If we took the road, we’d be spotted by sentries before we arrived.”

“There can’t be many sentries up here,” Lelani said. “Not like a garrison. Dorn’s assets are stretched thin and reinforcements are not likely for a few years our time. I went into the transfer soon after him and arrived six weeks later. There were no enemy forces behind me when I jumped.”

“If the sentries are anything like Hesz or Symian, one is plenty. We’re going to hike it from here, backtrack the path Fronik took over these hills—and hopefully gain some element of surprise.”

“I can stay with the truck,” Seth offered. “Make sure Ma and Pa Hackett don’t mess with it.”

“The truck will be fine behind the barn,” Cal said.

“There’s only a couple hours of daylight left,” Seth argued. “I’m not the woodsy type.”

“Let’s move before the sun sets,” Cal ordered.

CHAPTER 13

BY THE SHORT ’N’ CURLIES

1

“Cough,” Dr. Brown said, as he grabbed Daniel’s scrotum. He was a kindly southern gent who reminded Daniel of the doctor on
Star Trek.

Daniel stood shirtless and pantless in the examining room, braced against the medicinal atmosphere and the doctor’s stethoscope, which sent a chill down his soul. When the doctor finished, he instructed the boy to sit on the examining table. The paper covering crinkled as he fidgeted; Daniel felt like a pork chop about to be wrapped.

Sheriff Maher stood in the corner, a toothpick sticking out from the bristles of his thick mustache and wearing mirrored sunglasses. The man seldom removed his hat even indoors. Daniel wondered if the sheriff took a crap wearing the hat and glasses, too. It was hard to tell exactly what the sheriff was looking at; perhaps at Nurse Shirley, who was one big smile as she assisted Dr. Brown. The nurse had retained her girlish beauty well into her forties, which, unfortunately, caused the half-dressed Daniel to be excited in a most embarrassing way.

The doctor examined the boy’s welts with soft prodding, but Daniel winced when he brushed the injured rib.

“Might be cracked,” the doctor said.

No shit,
Daniel thought.

“You the kid whipped the Grundy boys?” the doctor asked.

“I plead the fifth,” Daniel answered, shooting the sheriff a glare.

Maher smiled.

“I fixed them boys up last night. Gotta say, you sure don’t look like the one who won the fight.” The doctor examined the fingers. Daniel winced again when he applied pressure to one of the joints. “Gotta say, them boys had it coming.”

“Wallace…,” the sheriff cut in.

“Now don’t give me lip, Ed. Know how many kids I treated over the years, them boys put in here? It’s a miracle no one’s sued them out of house and home already. Delinquents! You did good, son.”

“Wallace!”

“Just got to learn to duck once in a while.”

The doctor pulled out a ruler and measured the wounds. His expression changed to one of uncomfortable puzzlement.

“Wallace, I need to get him to the station,” the sheriff said. “Can we please take the photos?”

“That rib has to be wrapped, the fingers splinted … and…”

“And?”

“These marks … I’m not sure they were made by the Grundys.”

“Let’s talk outside,” the sheriff said.

“Shirley, photos and bandages please,” the doc said.

Nurse Shirley, it was easy to guess, was proud of her figure because she opted to wear an older style uniform, which accentuated it. Daniel used a pillow to hide his admiration for her curves. If she noticed, she revealed nothing as she took photos of his wounds.

“What’s this?” she asked, fingering a mark over Daniel’s left scapula. The warmth of her touch traveled down his spine to the spot he was trying to deflate. Daniel leaned further into the pillow.

“Birthmark.”

“Almost looks like a tattoo.”

“Yeah.”

The nurse began to wrap his ribs.

“I knew your real father,” she said, out of the blue. “We went to junior high together. John was a great guy. I was sorry to hear of his passing.”

Daniel was only eight when John Hauer, Rita’s first husband, died at the hands of a vicious testicular cancer. Most people believed John was Daniel’s biological father, a belief Daniel seldom dissuaded. Even Rita didn’t realize Daniel knew he was adopted. Clyde could never stand being compared to John, and revealed Daniel’s adoption shortly after he married Rita. It had been a bomb. “You just a borrowed bastard,” Clyde had said, with a smirk on his face.

But no matter how hard Clyde tried, he couldn’t erase the memory of Daniel’s childhood. John was a patient soul who had ushered joy into the boy’s early years. His death was a harsh blow to their little family, which Daniel had coped with better than his mother. To fill the void in her life, Rita chose her new companion swiftly and badly. Clyde Knoffler was an opportunist and a predator. A woman of Rita’s caliber would never have fallen for him under normal circumstances. Ignorant, penniless, he had a magnetism that gave him power over certain women. Clyde exploited Rita’s vulnerability and loneliness. Within months of their wedding he’d already spent the savings Rita and John took years to earn and pushed his new wife to the limits of her sanity. Avoiding reality was now Rita’s primary occupation.

“I was having problems with algebra one year,” Shirley continued, “and John tutored me to a B plus. He was also my first
real
kiss,” she said with a smile. “Who knows … if things had gone differently, you might have been my kid.”

As far as Daniel knew, he might very well be, anyway. He knew nothing of his heritage. Life was strange. Was it worth all the pain? Sometimes he worked too hard just to exist. He recognized that some people were very happy—couples who enjoyed each other, children whose primary worry was the gossip of who liked whom in school—but for the most part, people suffered. What was the point? It looked like good days only existed so that you would have somewhere to fall from.

Daniel stared out at the police station across the street from the hospital. He’d be going there next to take his mug shot and be fingerprinted. He was a juvenile delinquent, a danger to society. Just then, Clyde brushed past the window. Daniel’s heart jumped.

“Whoa,” the nurse said, navigating a roll of gauze around the boy’s torso. “Did someone walk on your grave?”

“What?”

“Just an expression. You shuddered.”

Daniel wanted to tell her that her grave remark wasn’t too far from the truth. Clyde would fly into a rage over the lawsuit. Once Clyde was in the zone, anything was possible.

“Honey, you’ve got the sweats. Are you feeling okay?”

Daniel stared at the door, waiting to see his stepfather walk in. He considered telling Shirley the truth in the hope that she would defend him. After all, his dad and her kissed in the sixth grade. She was practically family. Maybe she was so fond of him that she’d risk life, limb, and fortune for the child of John Hauer (who was almost hers). A minute went by, then two. It wasn’t that far from reception to his room. Maybe they were keeping Clyde out. The door opened, his heart caught in his throat. It was only the doctor and the sheriff.

“Just about done,” Shirley said.

Daniel had some trepidation about leaving the room, but with the sheriff’s hand on his shoulder he didn’t have any choice. The hallway was busy with healers and patients. They reached the waiting area and turned left toward the exit. Just then, he saw Clyde at the end of the far hall, talking to a young staffer in an office doorway. His arm, braced against the door frame beside her, gave the appearance that the woman was trapped in his clutches. She giggled at something Clyde said just as Daniel walked out of view.

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