Savage Dawn (3 page)

“Hello?”

The voice of Richard, his father was as strong and
forceful as he remembered. He took a deep breath and began, not sure what to
say.

“Hi, it’s me.”

He knew that would suffice.

“Chris?”

“Yes, Richard, it’s me Chris. I’m calling about my
mother,” he said, refusing to say ‘dad’ – a term he hadn’t touched in many
years.

“Yeah, that was sad… huh?  I heard it was from
an overdose. She never could break that habit,” Richard said, his voice emotionless.

“Yeah, no thanks to you…” Chris said, his voice
betraying a sliver of the anger that boiled inside him.

“Look; that had nothing to do with me. She went off
the rails, started doing that shit every day. There was nothing anybody could
have done to stop her.
Too damn stubborn for her own good!”
Richard was becoming annoyed, and pretty soon Chris knew he would more than
likely fly off the handle and hang up on him. His already deep, booming voice
was growing louder in Chris’ ear as he became impatient.

“I’m busy, what is it you wanted to talk about?”

Chris controlled the anger in his voice, “You’ve
already made arrangements for mom’s funeral. I want to know what they are.”

“I’ve made arrangements with a local funeral home
not far from where you are. We’ll have her in the ground by Saturday.” Richard
said still betraying no emotion and Chris knew there was none to betray.

“A local funeral home, are you kidding me? So you’ve
basically planned some cheapskate funeral to get rid of her as quick and painlessly
as possible?” Chris struggled to hold back the fury threatening to rise to the
surface.

Richard was as cold as ever, “Yeah, basically. As
far as I’m concerned, you are ‘both’ dead to me and the sooner I get this done
with, the sooner I can get on with my life.”

“Just send her back to where she belongs, the
reservation. She can have a proper burial and be with her people.”

Chris didn’t want to plead but he would if he had
to.

Richard laughed and his voice filled with scorn,
“Back to the savages? Now, it’s you that’s
gotta
be
kidding, Chris. She goes nowhere near that inbred community. Sorry but that’s
the way it’s going to be.”

Chris finally broke, his anger spilling over cancelling
out any fear he may have previously felt, “You disgusting animal. It was you
that killed her. You introduced her to that… that… poison and you beat her till
she couldn’t walk. You owe it to her to give her a proper burial with her
people!”

Richard’s voice suddenly became menacing, and Chris
flinched from the sound as memories flooded his mind, images of the hulking
figure in the darkness, belt raised to strike.

“She’s going nowhere near that bunch of savages.
Those filthy people don’t want anything to do with you and neither
do
I, so do yourself a big favor and don’t waste my time by
calling again.”

Then he was gone. Chris stared at the phone in his
hand, tears welling up in his eyes as he realized he was powerless to do
anything. Richard would have his way, just as he always did.

Desperate, Chris dropped the phone and began to rack
his brain, looking for an alternative solution. He was willing to do anything,
whatever it took to give his mother the burial she deserved and stop that
monster from taking away her last chance to be with her own people. Soon, an
idea began to form in his mind.

It was risky but he didn’t care.  His mother
would get what she deserved, and so would Richard.

His plan was simple. Chris would steal a lab coat
from the UNLV laboratory and then pay a visit to the morgue where his mother’s
body was being kept.  He had to find a way of getting her out of there
without being detected, and that would be the difficult part.

Once it was done, he knew all that would be left to
do would be to drive to the
Whayani
reservation and
convince the elders to give her a traditional burial. His mind was made up;
there was no turning back now. His mother would be given the burial she
deserved; he would make certain of that, no matter what it took. The world was
full of injustice and people like his mother had to go on suffering in silence
while those few parasites like his father fed off them and drained their
spirit.  Enough was enough.  

In his heart, Chris knew this was only the beginning
of a long journey.

The next day, at noon, Chris walked into the
hospital and made straight for the restroom, where he quickly slipped on the
lab coat he had stolen from the lab at school that morning. He still wasn’t
entirely sure how he was going to remove his mother’s body without being
detected by the staff.

He would have to play it by ear.

Before leaving the bathroom, he stood and looked at
himself in the mirror. The medical coat didn’t really suit him, he thought. He
was too muscular and broad for its shape and somehow it didn’t look right on
him. He looked like a wrestler, pretending to be a doctor. That was not very
far from the truth, after all.  Chris had been a star performer on the UNLV
wrestling team, when he was not working on his engineering degree.

All that would have to wait.

This little mission of his wasn’t going to be easy
and he would need time, a ‘long’ time in order to make sure his mother was put
to rest in the way she would have wanted. Someone entered the bathroom and
Chris took that as his cue to begin the search for his mother’s remains.

Exiting the bathroom, he turned right into the
nearest corridor and headed to the end where he had a choice, he could enter
through a set of double doors, or turn right into another long corridor. He
paused, considering the options and that’s when the first stab of doubt hit
him. What was he going to do? Wander the hospital aimlessly; hoping that by
chance he would stumble upon the morgue? As he stood, questioning the logic of
his decision, nurses and other hospital staff walked by, some glancing in his
direction as they passed and his doubt soon morphed into paranoia. Did they
know he wasn’t a Doctor?

How…

Chris stopped the thoughts all at once, using a
technique his mother had taught him many years ago. Back then his mother had
ritually meditated each day in their flower filled garden. Chris had been
fascinated with the little ritual and one day asked her what she was doing.

“I’m meditating. Our people believe it is important
to keep the mind free of impure thoughts.”

He was so young then, perhaps only nine, and wasn’t
willing to sit still for that long, “But what if I can’t meditate? How do I
keep my mind pure, Mom?” He had asked her fearfully.

His mother had smiled and stroked his face lovingly,
“That’s alright, son. We also have another way of stopping bad thoughts.”

“What is it?” He had asked eagerly.

“Next time you have bad thoughts in your mind,
simply ‘stop’ thinking and breathe. Don’t think at all, just simply breathe and
count to ten. The thoughts will be gone and you can fill your mind with happy
thoughts, okay?”

…
nine
…ten…

Chris took a deep breath and began to think more
logically. Panic would only give him away. He knew if he asked the right people
and followed the signs he would find the morgue and everything would fall into
place.

He eventually found where his mother’s body was
being kept and upon reading her paperwork he discovered she was due to be moved
to a nearby funeral home to prepare her for burial.  The transfer was
happening the next morning.

Having the information he came for, Chris slipped
off the lab coat and exited the hospital.  He got back into his car and
paused before starting the engine. It was clear to him now, what he had to do.
Removing her from the hospital would be next to impossible, he would be caught
and arrested before he had gotten anywhere near the exit. The only option he
had was to intercept the hearse carrying his mother’s body, take her and drive
to the
Whayani
reservation straight away.

He would have no time for delay. The police, and
possibly his father’s goons, would be after him once they discovered what he
had done.

He smiled grimly.  
Just let them try
.

Chris spent the rest of the day making preparations
for the rescue of his mother’s body. He first plotted a series of ‘strike’
points, or areas where he could rob the hearse without attracting too much
attention. After that, he purchased a pellet gun that resembled the real thing
and went home where he packed his things for the long journey to the
Whayani
reservation the next day. That night, sleep eluded
him, so instead he went over the operation again and again until every step of
the way was perfectly imprinted upon his memory.

As he left the apartment that morning, two hours
before the hearse was due to leave the hospital, he said a silent goodbye to
the home he had shared with his mother for so long.

He knew he might never return.

A single tear rolled down his face as he started the
car and drove away slowly, a gloominess clouding his spirit as he left his old
life behind.

Chris watched as the hearse left the hospital and
took a left, just as he thought it would, before starting his engine and
pulling out into the light traffic to follow it. The journey was only a short
one so he would have to be quick, otherwise he would miss his opportunity. He
allowed the hearse to pass by the first two strike points – but not because the
traffic was too thick or there were too many people around. He was simply too
afraid to take that first step.

Once he had taken it, there was no turning back.

At the third strike point, a quiet little stretch of
road just on the edge of a residential area, Chris finally broke through his fear.
Seeing the hearse slow down for a traffic light just ahead, a cold chill ran
through his body as he slammed his foot down and braced
himself
for the impact.

Chris’ much smaller car plowed into the back of the
large black hearse with a smash of grinding metal and shattered glass, throwing
Chris forward in his seat. Just as he had planned, the driver of the hearse got
out and began to approach his car, a look of anger on his face, ready to unload
his fury. Chris took off his seatbelt, pulled a black bandana up over his face
and drew his pellet gun before stepping out of the car to meet the fast
approaching man.

“What the hell do you
th
…
”

The man saw the gun and froze, momentarily
paralyzed, and Chris knew he didn’t have long. He had to act quickly. In one
fluid motion, Chris pocketed the pellet gun, grabbed the man and swung his
fist, catching the guy square in the temple.

The driver crumpled to the pavement, unconscious,
but Chris grabbed hold of him and made sure the fall didn’t cause any more
damage than his fist already had. He dragged the man to the side of the road
before quickly opening the back of the hearse and dragging his mother’s coffin
out into the road.

Seconds had passed since the accident. 
Perhaps only twenty or thirty of them.

Checking the road for other cars, Chris saw that he
was still clear for the moment, but it wouldn’t be long before he was spotted.
He ran to his car, grabbed his mother’s blanket and returned to the
coffin.  He removed his mother’s cold, lifeless body and as he wrapped her
in the blanket, he tried not to look at her.  It was hard and the smell of
death clung to her, causing him to gag several times before
he
,
at last, managed to drag her to his car and gently place her into the trunk.

By this point, nearly two minutes had passed and he
saw cars approaching.

Chris leapt into his damaged vehicle and sped off
down a side street, heading for the highway. The hard part was over.

Now all that lay ahead of his was the long drive to
South Dakota, a thousand miles.

Chris removed the bandana, wiped away the sweat from
his face and took several deep breaths before smiling.

You’re
gonna
get the burial you deserve mom.

Exhausted from his long journey, Chris finally
reached the
Whayani
Indian reservation after driving
day and night, stopping only for a brief nap in the parking lot of a diner in
Wyoming.

He was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open,
but he knew he had to find his grandfather quickly.  During the long
drive, his mother’s body had been unpreserved and nature was taking its
course.  The heat hadn’t helped matters.

This burial had to be performed
today
.

The
Whayani
reservation
wasn’t very large and a helpful map aided Chris in navigating his way
around.  He had vague memories of many of the buildings he was
seeing.  It wouldn’t take him long to locate his grandfather, he
thought.  However, as Chris drove along the main street in town he
realized that things had changed drastically. The roads and sidewalks were
littered with rubbish and the buildings that had once been proudly maintained
were now falling into disrepair, as though the people had lost their spirit and
the pride that had once been prominent in this society of warriors.