Legion of Despair: Book Three in The Borrowed World Series (26 page)

Jim stood up and gestured toward the bodies on the porch. “I saw that and got a little worried. Sorry that you find my concern for your safety to be disturbing.”

“Disturbing because it’s too damn loud,” Lloyd said, shielding his eyes.

“You’re hungover, aren’t you?”

“As a towel on a rack,” Lloyd confirmed.

“Glad you find your current circumstances comfortable enough that you can let down your hair and relax. I’d hate for the collapse of modern civilization to interfere with you getting drunk,” Jim said. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and approached the house.

“We didn’t set out with the intention of getting drunk.”

Buddy came out of the house with a cup of coffee in his hand and nodded to Jim. “It’s a fact,” he confirmed. “We had every intention of going straight to bed when we got home, but we came home to the damndest sight you ever did see.”

Jim nodded toward the stack of bodies. “I’m assuming it had something to do with them?”

“That it did,” Buddy said.

“Hold that story for a second,” Jim said. “I’m going to get Pete up here. I told him I’d only be a second. I don’t want to leave him down there by himself for too long.”

“I’m going to get some coffee,” Lloyd said.

Jim walked back to the driveway and could see Pete atop the tractor. “Pete, come on up here!” he called.

Pete waved in acknowledgment, climbed off the tractor, and started up the hill.

Jim took a seat on the edge of the porch. He caught a whiff of the bodies and relocated himself further away. He appraised Buddy as he sat on his porch. “Am I to assume that you killed all these men?”

“That would be both a
yes
and a
no
,” Buddy replied cryptically.

“How can it be both? Either you did or you didn’t.”

“I indeed killed them, but I wasn’t here to enjoy it,” Buddy replied.

Jim looked for the gleam of humor in the man’s eyes and found none. This didn’t make any sense.

Lloyd returned to the porch and took a seat, quickly discovering that sitting in close proximity to the bodies did not agree with his booze-weakened stomach and he moved. He was looking a little green around the gills.

Jim could hear Pete coming up the road about that time and didn’t want him to have to look too closely at the bodies on the porch. “Keep watch over there, Pete,” Jim told him. “Make sure no one gets the tractor.”

“Are those dead people?” Pete asked, gesturing toward the bodies.

“They are,” Jim said.

Pete considered that information, then took a seat in the gravel and did as he was told.

“Do you think they just randomly found your place?” Jim asked. Word of new criminals active in the valley was not welcome news. The experience with Charlie Rakes was still too fresh.

“I expect that they were acquaintances of my daughters,” Buddy said. “Drug addicts and criminal-types. That’s all I care to say about it.”

Jim understood. It wasn’t that Buddy cared to tell him the story in general, it was that it had arrived at a painful juncture where further discussion cut too close to the quick. The wound of his lost daughter was still too fresh for Buddy to discuss her with men that were still little more than strangers to him. Jim respected that. He stood. “I came to ask you all if you wanted to help me hang a couple of gates this morning but it’s clear that you all have more pressing matters before you.”

“Gates?” Lloyd asked. “I thought we were helping your friend unload today? I thought that was the plan.”

“Shit,” Jim said. “These bodies sidetracked me and I forgot to tell you my news. Gary had trouble last night. They got hit by someone, and he lost a son-in-law.”

“What happened?” Buddy asked.

Jim shook his head. “He didn’t want to go into detail on the radio so I don’t really know. He sounded pretty shook up.”

“That’s a crock of shit,” Lloyd said. “He’s that close to getting out of town and they get hit with something like that?”

“I know. It does suck,” Jim agreed. He turned his attention toward the bodies. “You all want some help burying those?”

“I’d appreciate it,” Buddy said. “I’m too old to dig graves and this here banjo player’s hands are too soft. He probably gets a callous when he uses a Kleenex.”

That broke a smile on Jim’s face. “You got a sinkhole we can toss them into?” Jim asked. “I don’t have the excavator with me for digging holes but I can use the loader bucket to spread dirt over them if you have a hole to throw them in.”

“I got just the place,” Buddy said. “There’s an old sinkhole on the back of the property where people used to throw their trash. There’s a pop machine in there, box springs, rusty fence wire, and a bunch of other crap. We’ll just bury all of it.”

Chapter 17

Gary’s House

Richlands, VA

Gary felt he and Will should deal with Dave’s body before sunup. He didn’t want the morning to shine light on the scene and allow the rest of the family to see what he and Will had already glimpsed. If was not a sight for children, nor anyone that loved the man.

Debra had suggested they wrap the body in a sheet, but Gary had deferred.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll stick with a tarp,” Gary said. He didn’t want to go into the details of how Dave had died. No one needed to know what shape his body was in. Gary simply told them that Dave had received a knife wound that hit a major artery and he bled to death quickly. Charlotte was still too disoriented from her fall to ask to see him, which was a blessing. Gary hoped to get his body in the ground before she thought to ask about seeing him. She knew he was dead, but for now she was lying on the sofa with Debra and Sara taking care of her while Alice watched the kids. It looked like she had a concussion.

“A tarp is disrespectful, Gary,” Debra said. “This isn’t a deer we’re talking about, it’s our son-in-law. It should be a sheet or a blanket. It’s much more suitable. We have them to spare, it’s not a big deal.”

“I know what I’m doing and we can’t use a sheet,” Gary replied. He turned to walk off.

“Of course we can,” Debra insisted. She couldn’t give it up. It was a sign she wasn’t coping well that this had become such a big issue for her. She was melting down. “People wrapped the dead in sheets for centuries. It will be fine.” She thrust the sheet at him again.

He turned back to her, lowered his eyes to the sheet, but still would not take it.

“Gary,” she said, her voice louder this time.

When he didn’t take the sheet from her, she threw it at him. “Take it,” she said, her voice shrill and bordering on hysteria. “Take the stupid sheet.”

Gary stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. “Dammit, Debra, a sheet won’t work,” he hissed. “They nearly cut his head off his body. There’s blood everywhere. We have to use something that won’t soak through.”

He turned and walked off, leaving the sheet in the floor. Debra was still standing there, her mouth open in shock. Tears spilled to the floor but Gary did not see them. Debra covered her mouth and sagged against the wall.

As they stood over his body, Gary pulled his headlight from his head and tossed it into the grass. He did not want to see too clearly what had to be done. It was bad enough to only infer in the darkness the damage that had been done to Dave. To shine light fully upon it and be confronted by the obscenity, the desecration of his flesh, was too much for them.

Gary spread the blue tarp beside the body, trying not to look at it. He pulled Nitrile gloves from his pocket, handing a pair to Will and stretching a pair onto his own hands. He took a deep breath, pushed it out through clenched teeth, and bent over the body. He placed a hand on Dave’s shoulder, finding it cold to the touch, and attempted to roll him over. Dave was on his side, facing away from the tarp. Gary had thought he would roll easily in this position but that was not the case. Rigor mortis had already set in.

Gary got on his knees in front of the body and pushed on Dave’s shoulder with both hands. The body finally moved and rolled to its back, breaking loose with it a clotted mass of blood that had glued the body to the grass. Gary’s stomach rolled. The body had been in a fetal position on its side, the head curled down toward the chest as Gary rolled it onto its back. Now on its back, gravity broke loose whatever forces were holding the nearly severed head in position. With a wet croaking sound, the head yawed slowly backward until it rested on the ground, the gaping wound opening like the enormous mouth of some legendary beast. The movement of the head cleared the airway and a burbling of air escaped the corpse. Gary turned away and began dry heaving, his body wracking both from his convulsing sobs and the spasms of his stomach.

Will took Gary’s place then, steeled himself, and rolled the body the rest of the way. He gritted his teeth, pushing with his legs until he got his brother-in-law onto the tarp. He quickly threw the loose end of the tarp over the body, concealing it from his sight. When he started to get to his feet, he realized that his knees were damp, Dave’s blood having soaked into his pants.

The contents of his stomach were rising into his mouth. Will tried to choke it down, to stay strong, but he could not contain it. He erupted, spewing vomit in the other direction. He staggered to his feet and walked off into the darkness, bent at the waist, throwing up the whole way. He cried at this point. Not for Dave or Charlotte or even their children, but for the thought that this could have been him. His wife could be in there mourning him. His daughter could get up tomorrow and have to face life without him. He could not leave her to this world alone. Who would protect her?

He would have to become the kind of man that Gary accused Jim of being, the kind of man who sometimes used killing as a preventative measure, the kind of man who killed offensively rather than defensively. Gary was always saying that he only wanted to kill if he had no other choice. Every time they faced such a situation, Gary would point out that his friend Jim would have handled it differently. Will did not fault Gary for being the way he was, but he was beginning to see an efficiency in the way Jim handled things. He put out fires
before
they spread. He killed when he had the advantage. He killed so that he didn’t have to worry about the bad guy killing him or someone he loved later.

Certainly, Gary had to deal with this new world in a way that he could live with. For his part, Will was not sure he could live in this new world
without
becoming the kind of man that Jim was. He could not sleep at night with loose ends haunting his sleep. He would rather deal with the consequences of his overreaction than have to bury his child.

Gary was so enraged by Dave’s death that he took a step he would not have taken even a few days ago. He gathered the bodies of the three men they’d killed, tied them by the ankles to the back of his lawnmower, and dragged their bodies all the way down to the bottom of his driveway. He stopped at the nearest road sign, one posting the speed limit. He stood the first body up against the sign and removed a two-foot long zip tie from his belt, looped it around the man’s neck and the sign post, then yanked it tight. When he stood back, the man hung there, kept on his feet only by his bound neck.

Gary did the same with the next man, standing him by the first. The third man got the same treatment. When he was done, the three dead men encircled the signpost. Gary had carried a plywood sign down in his lap and he hung it from one of the men’s necks, facing the road:

THESE MEN WERE THIEVES

On his way back up the hill, one thought nagged at Gary. Wesley Molloy was not among the dead men. That meant he was still out there. Shortly though, his continued existence would no longer be Gary’s problem. Molloy could have this town and everything in it.

They all agreed it was better to bury Dave there today than to take him to the new place. They didn’t know how long they would be there and they didn’t want to have to abandon him to strangers if the new arrangement didn’t work out. If they buried him in the yard of his own home, he’d be there among the fruits of his labor and hopefully they would all rejoin him one day when things got back to normal.

There was a short debate about whether the children should attend the graveside service or not, and it was Karen who settled it. She had seen how Charlotte was sinking into a dark hole and needed something to pull her back. She convinced her parents that it might be beneficial for Charlotte to see that she still had responsibilities in this world. Debra was not so sure they could pull Charlotte out of her grief. Charlotte had moved past the violent sobbing and gone to a constant wail that was unsettling to everyone. It was similar to the howl of a dog and had the same spine-chilling effect.

Will and Gary dug the hole, only making it down to around four feet before they hit a rock that they could not pry loose or move around. It would have to be deep enough. They went ahead and placed the body there so that it was already in the ground when everyone came out for the service. Karen had snipped some flowers from the perennial bed in front of the house. She gave everybody, even the children, some to toss into the grave.

There was no one but Gary to say words over the body. In a family, all of the worst duties always fell to the patriarch or matriarch. Debra had to tell Charlotte that her husband was dead, Gary had to wrap the body, and now Gary had to speak over him. There was plenty of unpleasant work to go around.

Standing there over the grave, Gary realized that the last time he’d celebrated Dave’s life was when he offered a toast at his wedding to Charlotte. He was neither a minister nor an orator by nature. He spoke plainly and honestly of his son-in-law in his role as such, as a father, and as a husband. The adults fought to maintain composure. Of the children, only Sara’s daughter, Lana, seemed to have any comprehension of what was happening, but she may have just been feeding off the uncontainable sadness of the adults. Charlotte crouched at the foot of the grave, still wailing, as Gary and Will filled it. Only when it was full did she allow Karen to lead her away, the wail tapering to a moan due to sheer exhaustion.

She still had not acknowledged her children.

*

What few things they’d needed overnight were hastily shoved into the packed vehicles as they prepared to leave. Gary started to lock the house, but ended up leaving it unlocked. Perhaps it would discourage any vandals from breaking the windows out and leaving the house exposed to the elements.

It’s only a house
, Gary reminded himself. Still, it felt like more than that. It felt like a part of his life he was leaving behind.

The truck required a boost and a blast of starter fluid to get the engine cranking. As they started the other vehicles and prepared to leave, it became clear that Gary’s vehicle assignments were going to have to be modified. With Dave dead, his already packed vehicle needed a driver. It was also clear that Charlotte was probably not in any shape to be driving a vehicle. In her state of mind, she could intentionally drive herself off an embankment just to put an end to her suffering.

Alice agreed to drive Dave’s vehicle. There was probably gear in there that they didn’t need now that Dave wasn’t going with them but it was too late to sort it out and repack. They could do that later.

Karen would switch with Charlotte, who would now ride with Debra while her kids remained in her minivan with Karen. Gary knew that his family was capable, but they were a man down and vulnerable. They were traumatized and sleep deprived. He hoped they didn’t run into anything too challenging. He just didn’t have a lot of faith in their abilities right now. Timing, judgment, stamina – it was probably all impacted by the night they’d had. Everyone had earned an easy day and he hoped they’d get it.

Gary assigned an order to the vehicles and instructed them not to pass each other, even on the four-lane highway. They were to remain in the assigned order. Each vehicle received a handheld radio set to a common frequency. Each driver was reminded to have a weapon available and ready.

“When I say I want your weapons ready, I mean one in the chamber ready to go,” Gary said. “You may have to drive with one hand and shoot with the other. You can’t count on having time to chamber a round first. I want you to be able to pick up your weapon and start firing.”

Everyone got in their vehicles and belted up. Gary got on his radio. “Whenever you’re ready, Will.”

Will eased out, the trailer tracking behind him, rattling and creaking under the load.

“We took out one threat last night,” Gary said into his radio. “We killed off the punks on the dirt bikes, but we don’t know what else is out there. Keep your eyes open for anything suspicious. If something doesn’t look right, stop in the road and we’ll check it out. I do not want to lead this whole group into a trap.”

“Got it,” Will replied.

“Everyone else with us? Sound off in order,” Gary said.

“I’m here,” Debra said.

“Me too,” Karen replied.

“Here,” Sara piped in.

“I’m here,” Alice said.

“Good,” Gary said. “Let’s keep it tight and call out if you have trouble.”

While he wasn’t sure what everyone else was experiencing, Gary felt a nearly overwhelming anxiety. Years ago, he’d rented an RV for a family trip. The vehicle was enormous and he’d never driven anything like it before. He was constantly worried he was straying out of his lane or going to hit a curb when he took a turn. There was the fear he was going to hit an awning when he refueled or that he was going to get into some jam he couldn’t back up out of. It was exhausting and that was how this felt at the moment, like he was maneuvering some awkward and barely controllable behemoth down a narrow, unfamiliar road. He would be glad when this day was over.

They approached the intersection with the four-lane Route 19.

“This is where Alice and I got hijacked, Will,” Gary said into the radio. “Keep your eyes open.”

Gary did the same, scanning every clump of bushes, trying to see beyond the guardrail and over every embankment. He saw nothing out of the ordinary.