Will the Sun Ever Come Out Again? (16 page)

He crashed to the floor like he’d been suplexed by Ricky Dalton, who made extra cash on the weekends as a wrestler down in Louisville named Rugged Ricky Danger. In the same instant, he heard the cleaver’s blade strike home in something thick and meaty. The monster’s cry fell silent at once.

He looked up from the floor to see a hideous face in the window. It was black and smooth, glistening with a thin sheen of river water. Narrow eyes that were milky white broke up the darkness. A large mandible full of dagger-like teeth hung in two sections, but Charlie couldn’t tell if it was meant to function that way or not. The cleaver’s blade bisected the face perfectly, and light from the stars and moon shimmered off the visible steel. The monster held onto the window an instant longer, then fell back into the water.

Charlie’s gaze shifted to Jimmy.

The cook stood frozen, his eyes locked on the now empty window. The air was silent save the dying waves from the creature’s splashdown. Mills didn’t appear to care, though. He wasn’t taking his eyes off that window.

“Jimmy?”

“Yeah?”

“How the fuck did you do that?”

“That thing, it was still coming in.”

“Well, I know that now.”

“I just saw its face and threw.”

“And a good fucking shot, too. Jesus, man! They teach that shit in the crap-ass school where you learned to burn burgers?”

“Fuck you, Crawdad. Your precious little salt didn’t stop it!”

Charlie climbed to his feet and used his free hand to dust off his knees one at a time.

“Maybe not. Hurt the fuck out of it, though! That earn me any points, or are ya just gonna throw something else in my direction?”

“What the hell was that thing?”

Charlie shrugged. “Beats me, man. I’ve seen more than snapping turtles come out of the river, but that’s a new one on me.”

“You think there’ll be more?”

He stopped and listened. Silence greeted him, and he was thankful for it. “Don’t think so. You probably gave ‘em something to think about with your little axe-throwing act.”

Jimmy turned away, heading for the stairs. “Hope so,” he said.

“Hey, Jimmy!”

The cook turned around. “Yeah?”

“Seriously, where the fuck did you learn to throw like that?”

He blinked. “I didn’t. Just saw that thing and panicked.” He walked the rest of the way to the narrow steps and started down.

Charlie watched Mills’s shadow stretch and then finally disappear. A shaft of flickering yellow light spilled up the stairs from the kitchen, and he watched that light for a long while before following Jimmy downstairs.

Almost time.

She grew worse fast, her health diving from fine to not so good to downright terrible in less than a day.

By the time Charlie drove her back to her parents house, she had begun to sweat. Perspiration poured from her skin as if somebody had left a tap running. She looked feverish, but her temperature had dropped. Where her eyes should have been red and rheumy, they grew sunken and ringed with pale blue. Every vein grew darker and closer to the skin. The wounds on her ankle pruned, the flesh there soaked through and beginning to chafe.

Charlie laid her on her bed. Her room still looked like it belonged to a teenager, right down to the pink and purple bedspread that was immediately soaked with sweat that smelled the slightest bit like mud and fish.

“Darling, you’re twenty years old,” he said through a worried smile. “Time to redecorate.”

She still lived at home. Her parents were gone, visiting relatives in Indianapolis. It was the only reason he’d been able to sneak her out of the house and down to the river in the first place. Dammit, why did they have to be gone? Who the fuck went to Indianapolis for any reason?

“I feel wrong, Charlie.”

“You still look great. Better than a porn star.”

“Shut up.”

He nodded, giving her a smile that felt as fake as it probably looked. She returned the smile and closed her eyes.

Charlie got to work. Over the following hours he tried every chant and remedy he could think of. He stuffed her wounds with salt, ash, and clover, but she kept right on leaking. Her body grew thinner and thinner, the rest of her skin turning blue and milk white, shrinking over her bones. The room filled with the think scent of the Ohio.

Charlie threw things. Broke things. Neither helped him feel any better. Neither gave him an answer.

Hours later, he barely recognized Tammie. She was a waterlogged shadow of blue and white. Her eyes had taken on a milky hue. They bugged out of their sockets slightly, and he knew they were filling with fluid, swelling. He ran his fingers through her hair, and it fell out in clumps that turned to river water almost immediately.

He swallowed hard. “Tammie?”

She rasped something, maybe his name. She tried again, and the words gurgled deep in her throat. She coughed violently before she managed to draw another breath.

“Don’t talk,” he said. “Just don’t even try. I just want to say I’m sorry. I love you, and I’m sorry.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

He knelt on the soaked carpet and began to cry.

More than twelve hours later, the sunlight had arrived to pierce the green water that flooded Second Street. The waters would crest before nightfall. They’d begin to recede before the next sunrise.

Charlie Crawford sat in a booth, eyes locked on the table in front of him. His mind was heavy.

He didn’t have much time left.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Jimmy’s voice was almost childlike. It snapped Charlie out of his deeper thoughts.

“What do you mean?” Crawford asked.

“The river,” Jimmy answered. His hands were pressed to the glass, and his eyes remained fixed on the window, watching as something that looked like a squid made of steel squirmed past the storefront. “So much crazy stuff in it. Blows your mind.”

“You come a long way from being scared of a catfish.”

“Maybe. Guess I just saw the light. Guy’s allowed to do that, right?”

“The light? You know better than that, Jimmy. Ain’t no light but the sun. It’s all darkness past that. Heaven ain’t shit but a myth the devil’s scared of.”

Mills shook his head, dismissive. “Says you.”

“Says everything. Entire world only makes sense when you take God out of it. Otherwise, you gotta rely on that ‘mysterious ways’ bullshit, and that ain’t done nobody a lick of good but teach ‘em self-pity.”

“Maybe. Still amazing, though.”

“Wasn’t little more than twelve hours ago you were pissin’ yourself over what might be in the big green bitch. Then you kill something out of it, and you’re both hunky and dory. Can’t say I get that, Mr. Mills.”

“Maybe there’s nothing there for you to get, Charlie.”

“Guess that’s possible. It’s rarely the case, though.”

“You so sure?”

“Always am. It’s how I keep my ticker clicking.”

“That just makes you cocky.”

“That makes me alive.”

“Does it?” Jimmy turned to give him a look.

He flashed a smile in response. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Mills shrugged. “Until the water goes away, I guess.”

“Well, we’ll all be sad when that happens.”

“Will we, now?”

He dropped his eyes to the tabletop for a moment, then met Jimmy’s gaze and grinned.

“Fuck no, shit splat. I can’t stand ya.”

Mills turned away from the window, his hands clenching into fists for an instant before relaxing again. He managed to push the anger away from his face, but couldn’t quite keep it out of his eyes. It churned there like black bile. It made the smile on his lips ring hollow, like the promise of a pretty woman or a young politician.

“Right,” Jimmy said. “Screw yourself, Charlie Crawdad. I’m gonna grab some shut-eye. You should do the same.”

Charlie shrugged and crawled out of the booth. He held his hands up in surrender as he approached Mills.

“Look, Jimmy. I’m sorry, okay? Seriously. You handled yourself real well last night, and you saved my goddamn skin. I’m not used to anybody pulling my bacon out of the fire but me, and I guess I just let it crank up my asshole-dial. So I’m sorry. And thank you.” He held out a hand.

Jimmy looked deep into his eyes, and Charlie could tell he was searching for a lie. A moment later he took the hand and shook it.

“Anytime, Charlie.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Jimmy let go and walked past Charlie, heading for the back.

“Hey, Mills!”

“Yeah?” He turned to see what Charlie wanted.

Charlie threw the right with everything he hand, and Jimmy hit the deck like his switch had been flipped.

He stared at the soaked bed for a long time. Every last trace of Tammie was gone. The smell of mud and the squish of water in the carpet served as her corpse. Her belongings had become her grave marker.

He had called her parents. They were on their way back from Indy. He’d have to explain. If the conversation didn’t kill him, Tammie’s parents might.

Good. He probably deserved it.

He curled into a tight ball and sank deeper into her waterlogged bed.

Charlie was glad to see Jimmy remain out unconscious for so long. It gave him time to go upstairs and prepare. He bound the cook’s wrists and ankles with duct tape before anything else. Last thing he needed was the guy coming to and raising a stink. One day earlier, he might not mind, but now he’d seen Mills lob a cleaver like a Cy Young winner, and he didn’t want his head to wind up a strike zone.

Once he finished in the attic, was sure everything was just as he needed it, he checked in on Jimmy. The man was still out, even snoring a little. He almost laughed, but instead grabbed him under the arms and dragged him upstairs. He used thick loops of the silver tape to bind Jimmy’s knees, then used a quick holding spell just to be sure he didn’t squirm away. Once done, he took a satisfied breath. Mills wasn’t going anywhere.

He tore the man’s shirt off, and still Jimmy didn’t snap out of it. Only when he took the knife and started carving the first symbol into Mills’s chest did the man jolt awake with a scream.

“Whoa there, buddy,” he said.

Jimmy let loose with another wail, his pain bouncing off the high ceiling. The spell kept him rooted to the floor, not that Charlie doubted it would.

“What the fuck are you doing to me?” Terror and pain shifted the pitch of Jimmy’s voice an octave higher than normal.

“It’s nothing personal. I’m using you. That’s all.” He dug the blade into flesh again, carving a smooth line along the sternum. Jimmy let out another scream before speaking.

“You
bastard!”

“Never claimed to be anything different. Now try to shut up. I’m working.”

“Fuck you!”

“Heard that one before. Try something new.”

He finished the line and started another. Blood flowed freely down Mills’s chest, tracing lines between his ribs and beginning to pool on the wooden floor. He wondered how messy it would be before he finished, decided he didn’t really give a rat’s ass.

Jimmy’s scream became a roar. “I’m going to
kill
you for this, god
dammit!”

“Heard that one, too. Hell, heard it just last week. It would be awful nice if you at least tried to make this entertaining. We’re gonna be here a long time, and the last thing I want to do is fall asleep ‘cause you’re boring me to death.”

The man’s screams filled the dusty space. They echoed and circled and cracked. Charlie wondered if anybody was left in town to hear them, but he shrugged off the thought. It didn’t matter. If anybody heard, they’d ignore it, same as always. Besides, he had work to do and only a few more hours to do it. The sun was past its zenith and heading downward. He had to be ready by nightfall. No point in wasting time with bullshit concerns.

Another line, this one crossing the other two. Spittle sprayed from between Mills’s clenched teeth.

“Why you doing this, Charlie? Why the fuck you doing this to me?”

Charlie shook his head. “I figured you’d ask that, Jimmy. Didn’t figure it would be so soon. Got miles to go before sunset, y’know?”

“Tell me!”

Figured. If Jimmy was anything, he was tenacious in his desire to have every single fucking thing explained to him. Fucking baby.

“Fine. You want answers, I’ll fork ‘em over. Almost twenty years ago, I lost somebody precious, somebody I loved.”

Mills squeezed his eyes shut, pain burning across his features. “Tammie Bowers?”