Dennis Yates - Minus Tide

He was supposed to have turned around by now. He steered the Skylark around a Dodge pickup parked in the middle of the road. It had a flashing yellow light bubble on top. There was a guy standing next to the truck, and when he saw the Skylark heading toward him he dropped his thermos and dove into the open door of the Dodge.

Ann watched as Traitor formed itself from the curving outlines of land. Downtown buildings seemed to emerge from the earth like a dark fungi. There still wasn’t any power. She couldn’t remember a time when it took them this long to connect Traitor back onto the grid.

She tried to ignore the pain in her leg. It was swelling and she imagined that when she got to the hospital they’d have to cut off her jeans. The last time she’d looked at her leg she’d seen a pink line moving up from the wound. Aunt Kate said it meant blood poisoning. If you didn’t take care of the infection, the line would keep moving up until it got to your heart and killed you. There was nothing she could do about it now but hope the salt water slowed the line’s progress.

The outgoing current had picked up strength and Ann couldn’t believe she was moving at all. It felt as if she were trying to climb up an escalator. Every gain forward against the current was met by several lost. She revved the motor to its highest setting, afraid of how much gas it was eating up. The aluminum boat was no contest to the force of the water. She’d just have to go fast and watch for logs conspiring to sink her.

As she worked her way around an island known for its talkative crows she noticed a glow of light coming from the distant bridge. She wondered if Mitch and Tammy had found help, if they were looking for her in the bay.

The fishing ramp was less than a mile away.

James screamed as wooden barricades split across the front of the Skylark . I’ve been living under a shadow for too long. Writhing in this molt of dysfunctional everything, waiting for this day. Breaking out. Maybe the moth catches on fire and dies. Maybe it gets through the flame and survives.

The bridge pulsated with moving flashlight beams. Road crew workers dressed in yellow rain gear were running toward the rails. James fed the Skylark another hit of gas and in an instant he saw their frightened faces blur past.

He didn’t see the tractor until it was too late.

Seeing Elk Woman down on the river reminded him of his mother. Of watching his mother in her black shroud as she paddled the boat onto the icy river so she could be in the exact spot where his father’s car had gone down. Searching for any messages in the water that might have surfaced. His final thoughts scrolled across the brown water where the ice had broken away. Information about his murderers and who the family could trust. And most importantly, if there was money hidden that she needed to know about.

“Get into the boat, Mikhail.”

“No. I don’t want to go near that water.”

“You mustn’t be afraid. There’s much more to learn than being able to understand a person’s sleep-talk. That’s only the beginning. Let me teach you how to find the dead-talk.”

“I don’t want to learn it. I don’t want you to teach me any more of that stuff.”

He knew that she wouldn’t argue with him about it. Nor did she feel hurt. She knew her son needed to take his time going over things. His father was also wired that way. Obsessed with details. Hammering at them to see if they could be broken into smaller pieces.

She’d paid a man to haul the rowboat in his truck, the one Mikhail and his father used for lake fishing. When he was a child and his father was happy and hadn’t started having the severe anxiety attacks that his mother treated with a special tea from the old days. He’d hated to see the boat go out on the dirty river. Was afraid that it would be lost with his father. He’d only wanted it to continue leaning against the back of the house. Taking it away was like taking the best memory of his father away.

But he had, in the end, learned the dead-talk. He still heard his mother’s voice every day.

When James opened his eyes he thought he was floating between blue clouds. Except they weren’t clouds at all but buckled up metal covered in windshield glass. He heard shouting. Black smoke blew into his face and made him cough. The door shuddered next to him as someone struggled to pull it open. Hands reached inside and pulled him away from the Skylark as the hood caught fire.

They carried him around to the other side of the tractor where someone had parked a Subaru Outback. After he was set on the ground he heard a woman say she was going to get the first aid kit off the back of the caterpillar.

“Did he hit anybody?” someone asked. James opened his eyes and waited for the murkiness to go away. While he lay in partial shock he took inventory of his injuries, was surprised that he’d only had some bloody scratches. His ear still throbbed from when the sheriff jammed him with his pistol barrel.

“No. Just the cat thank god. But Jim Love lost his grip and fell into the bay.”

“Goddamn. Did the fall knock him out?”

“No. They’re talking to him. He’s trying to stay in our lights. Bill is on his way. We’re taking his car down to the marina to get a boat. I told the crew to move the lights over on Jim so we can keep an eye on him. Pete’s going to lower a safety line down. Maybe he can get it tied around him.”

“How’s he keeping from being swept down river?”

“There’s some rungs on the center bridge support. I don’t now how much longer he can hold on, but he’s one strong son of a bitch.”

A tall bearded man approached them. His eyes were pale blue like the car and he stared at James. A woman rushed past him with the first aid kit and sat on her knees next to James. She said her name was Kathy. She had a kind face.

“What are you doing back in Traitor?” Bill said. James pretended not to see him, rolled his eyes up and watched the stars above to think about something else other than Bill Calder standing over him with murder in his eyes. If there wasn’t any dark space between them they wouldn’t even be stars, he thought to himself.

“You know him Bill?” Jeff asked.

“Yeah I know him. We go way back. Last I heard, he’d gone AWOL or something down in Mexico. What we’re doing James? Trying to run down me and my crew?”

“Leave him,” Kathy said. She got the emergency blanket out of its package and unfolded it. Jeff bent down and helped her spread it over James. Kathy grabbed a roll of gauze from the kit and started working on his scratches. James gazed blankly at her.

“You’re going to be okay honey. Help will be on the way.”

James closed his eyes.

“I’d prefer that you left me and him alone for a while,” Bill said.

“I bet you would. He’s in shock, Bill. Might have brain damage. I think he’s got blood coming out of his ear.”

“I’d say the brain damage happened before he tried to kill us.”

Kathy stopped and looked up. She’d always hated it when Bill was in one of his swaggering moods. Talking as if he were some badass. Trying to act like he wasn’t the coward he was.

“I’m not going to sit here and let you do anything. So just forget it.”

“He almost killed us, Kath. He’s probably drunker than a skunk. It’ll be too late for a blood test by the time help comes and he’ll get away with a warning.”

“You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

“The guys would back me if we said I’d found him that way. Crushed skull and all…”

“I really doubt that would happen,” Kathy said. She finished taping the gauze that held James’ ear.