Tom Piccirilli - November Mourns

Rebi moved on the bed, waggled the backs of her fingers against his naked ass. He nearly jumped into the wall. She tried to get her mouth on him again. He gripped her by the shoulders and pushed her away, but she only hauled him to her again.

“I want you,” she said.

“Oh Jesus Christ.”

He had to get control, had to focus. Get C-Block solid again. Tighten up his guts before he got sick all over the floor. He forced himself to calm down. You had to deal with one thing at a time.

Like you couldn’t have two gorgeous girls coming after you any other damn day. No, had to be now like this, with a corpse under the bed and your dried spit dappling the body.

But the rage had its own will. It rose and ran inside him, moved him along until he’d grabbed Rebi and flung her across the bed. She let out a sharp laugh, part burlesque and part accommodating, as she twisted and tried to yank him down into her.

You learned to pay heed to the dead breath on your neck.

Shad clutched his pants and started to get dressed. He heard doors opening around the house and abruptly he knew that his life was in danger. The hills were being cute, playing him like this.

He grabbed his boots. He wanted to make sure he had something on his feet in case he had to run. He unlocked the window and opened it, thinking, Yeah, this really is a punch line. Traveling salesman nails the farmer’s daughters and then has to hop out the window with his pants half on. Except the wooden track of the frame had warped over the years and the window wouldn’t go all the way up.

“Someone’s comin’,” Rebi said. “You better jump.”

Lucas Gabriel burst through the doorway wearing only white long johns and heavy cotton socks, looking like he hadn’t slept a minute during the night. He rushed inside and barely glanced at Jerilyn’s corpse. His hand rested on the butt of an old army.45 that smelled like the ass end of Da Nang.

“I wasn’t sure if you were him or not,” Gabriel said. “Him with another face on.”

“What’s that mean?” Shad said. “What’s all this about faces?”

“But you’re not him, are you?”

“I told you who I am, Mr. Gabriel.”

“You’re just another moon-running townie bastard poisoning our people!”

Shad didn’t know why that annoyed him so much, but it did. He started to growl a curse but thought better of it. The man’s daughter had been murdered, even if he didn’t seem to care much at the moment.

A peculiar situation that just kept getting worse, begetting more and more strange things.

Gabriel hunched as if to charge forward with his knobby hairless skull. He was letting the compressed force within him free, and it wasn’t going to stop rushing out until more blood spilled. Shad saw that Gabriel’s throat, without the collar and tie to cover it, was also covered with snakebite scars.

Those washed-out eyes of grit and rubble gazed at him in confusion and pain.

“I haven’t done anything, Mr. Gabriel.”

“Yes you have. You don’t even know what it is you’ve done.”

“Call the sheriff’s office. Get Increase Wintel or Dave Fox up here. We need this looked into.”

“I don’t know them, and we don’t want any more hollow outsiders. I’ll handle this myself.”

That had the nuance of a threat but no will behind it. Shad thought he could cover the distance between them before Gabriel could pull his gun, but the man didn’t seem to want to draw.

You could be cornered in a room with an open door and a half-opened window. Shad couldn’t defuse the situation. Couldn’t truly even make the attempt. Not with both Gabriel daughters in the room, one on the bed, one under it.

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed and he worked his lips, staring at Rebi naked between the messy sheets. She reached over for her blouse and put it on. She moved to stand beside Shad and sort of slumped against his shoulder. Her skin still burned. Was she baiting Shad or her old man, and for what purpose?

“She isn’t for you,” Gabriel said.

“That so?” Shad asked. “Who then? Tell me his name.”

There it was, coming around to the same question, sounding like an owl. Unable to do anything except go who who who fucking who .

“He’ll show you no mercy.” Gabriel’s voice took on a plaintive note.

“Who won’t?”

“He’ll drag you down into the gorge with the other doomed.”

“Fairly vicious talk for a man of God.”

“Would you expect any more from a snake handler?”

“Yes.”

Whatever was going on in this house had started a long time ago. Shad knew he was the catalyst that had forced someone else’s hand, and Jerilyn had paid the price. He wanted to ask the man why he wasn’t crying. Why the bastard wasn’t showing any regret or true anger. What he was really afraid of. And who who who fucking who.

But Shad didn’t want to shock Gabriel from his paralysis. He turned to Rebi, hoping she’d say something calming and reassuring, take the edge off, but she only let out a slow grin that was pure backwoods jezebel. Any other time it would’ve made him hum, but now he could only groan.

The man took another step, angling sideways to show off the handle of the pistol. He flexed his fingers, inched his hand closer to the butt of the gun.

“Don’t do that,” Shad said. “I can’t smell a trace of oil. You haven’t cleaned that.45 in years. It’ll take off your hand. Or your damn head.”

“Why are you here?”

“I told you.”

“You said nothing of consequence! What are you doing in my house? You’re no friend. You don’t hear the word.”

Like it was all in playfulness, Gabriel actually put his hand on the gun and began to tug it loose.

As if you were just supposed to stand there and wait for it to clear leather.

“Don’t!”

If they were mouthy, you let them run with their talk. It gave you a wedge while they went along posturing. But when they were quiet and slow you knew they were already disconnected.

Shad slapped out with his left hand and smacked the.45 to the ground, swung around with his right, and drove a fist into Gabriel’s face. The man fell back into the door and the wood tore loose from the top hinge. His mouth spurted and a streak of blood curved down the wall.

Rebi coiled beside Shad, her arms writhing over him, and said, “Kill him. Kill my daddy.”

Their Jesus had hellfire in his eyes. You couldn’t forget it.

A scream resounded in the corridor. It had to be Mrs. Gabriel. He didn’t remember her features and couldn’t see her now in the shadowed recesses of the house. There are some people who are in your story but not of it.

“I was right,” Gabriel said. “You didn’t come here with an open heart lookin’ for the Lord.”

“You’re a real contrary bastard, you know that? Why don’t you tend to your own house?”

“He’ll find you eventually.”

“Will he?” Shad would ask one final time and then let it go. “Who’s the serpent stalking your garden, Gabriel?”

He saw a blur of black motion in the trees, coming toward the house from the shack next door. He knew it would be the Wegg brothers with more guns. Shad pushed past Gabriel but Rebi reached around from in back and hugged him. “No need for fussin’. You got no reason to fear ordinary fool men.”

He shoved her off and started for the door again, but Hart and Howell Wegg were already inside, keyed up by the scream. Hart held a rifle. Howell carried one of the Plexiglas containers filled with snakes.

These people and their snakes, like bringing over a crumb cake.

There was no animosity in their faces. Nothing like when Little Pepe had lumbered closer, intent on doing the job.