Lucky's Girl (5 page)

The Big Tree showed him what could be, what possibilities there were if he was willing to receive this wisdom. And now, his God was calling him home to assume his rightful place. Ever since that fateful day so long ago he’d used the gift as much as he could… but he’d never felt the voice of the Big Tree, not until
now
. It was a quiet voice which he had to strain to hear, an itch in the back of his mind, a smell he could only vaguely place, a form of
déjà vu
. Colors, sounds, shapes, textures, aromas came in a flood, but still fragmented, still not fully
here
. It called him, he was the true son, and soon his God would walk the face of the earth again.

CHAPTER 5

“Jerry, I don’t even know where the fuck to begin.”

It was Errol, Elton Township’s mayor, mailman and sometimes Sheriff’s deputy. So far Jerry wasn’t sure if this was the most fucked up day in Elton in twenty-odd years, or whether the moment of critical mass had arrived when all the misery, ugliness, and blind misfortune of this terrible little town had taken form and was devouring it.

“We’re already on another township’s dime for the coroner for Everclear and the Polack and for…”

He stopped short and part of the shock gripped him. “And for the Rev.”

The air whistled out of Errol’s throat. “I can’t fucking believe it. The fuck are we gonna do without him?” More of a statement than a question. Bad things happen in the dogpatch between logging mills and Indian casinos, but the death of the Reverend James wasn’t one they’d planned for. There was no way to sum it up short of facing that this was the end of Elton Township. At least it was the end of hoping that somehow, someway, things could be turned around.

And if today was what the beginning of the end looked like, neither man wanted to look any further down the road. “Okay, Errol, I didn’t know that things could get worse so just go ahead and lay it on me.”

“It’s Blackie again.”

Jerry didn’t respond. He just glanced over his shoulder at the mourners filling the James’ house, spilling out into the yard. Crying, holding each other. This man meant that much to them. He was the light at the end of their tunnel, something approaching a real saint. And now he was gone.

He and Errol had flown up the road following the song of the Pack. They hadn’t bothered with pleasantries, they’d just torn ass around to the back of the house. The Pack weren’t in front but their song was loud and clear, so that must’ve meant they were in the back. Like
right there
in the back of the Rev’s place. But all they saw was the shaking of the bushes and trees, the Pack melting into the forest.
Gone
, and when they walked up to the Rev’s porch to apologize for tear-assing across his property they saw Abby’s face buried in his big chest on the couch. He wasn’t moving.

The Rev was dead.

Blackie had been there.

Watching, then howling
.

Wolves don’t fucking act like that, they just
don’t
. And moments before that, they’d devoured a woman’s dog in front of her, reducing it to blood and fur in less than a minute.

And here’s Errol the mailman, mayor, and deputy with even more good news.

“They killed every single one of Colson’s sheep. Didn’t eat em’ – just killed em’. Apparently they did it right before dawn; somehow they spooked the sheep out of the barn, herded them across the field, and massacred them. I’m looking at thirty to forty carcasses here, Sheriff.”

Jerry looked at the mourners around him, then across empty Elton Lake to the back of the church. The coroners from two counties over were loading up Everclear and the Polack right now. They’d be coming here next.

Suddenly the Rev’s voice came back to him. “They died sober.”

Jerry had heard that line at so many funerals officiated by the Rev that he’d lost count. Some of the time it was true. The Rev and that AA meeting in the basement of the church were the world to almost every person in this town not staggering around perpetually drunk. Everclear and the Polack had died sober as far as Jerry knew. They’d both spent the night in his drunk tank, one after another. Everclear had said he was going back to AA. Jerry had told the Polack that Everclear was going back to AA and the Polack had also decided he was going to make another go at it too.

They’d both hung themselves from the rafters with strips torn from their blankets.

They’d died sober but had killed themselves.

“Errol, wolves don’t fucking do that and you know it.”

“Well, we’re going to need to add it to the list of firsts for this particular Pack.”

Jerry repeated himself quietly. “They don’t do that. They’d eat them, maybe take one or two.”

“Colson came up on them in his truck and said he saw one of the males carrying a ewe off. All the males hung back but Blackie stood her ground until she saw him get out of the truck with his shotgun. She wasn’t going to leave. Colson says she looked straight at him like she was…”

“Like she was what, Errol?”

“Like she was letting him know that this was personal.”

“It’s a fucking animal, Errol!” Jerry realized too late that he was yelling into the phone and that the mourners were looking at him with what? Horror? Contempt? Pity?

He spoke quietly into the phone. “Errol, she said they were right outside the Rev’s sliding glass door. Just watching, then they started howling.”

“I know, Boss, I was there when we found out too.”

“Abby said that they were there to watch him die, they knew he was dying and they’d come to watch him die.”

“Yeah, Boss, she’s in shock. Blackie’s not the fucking angel of death… although Colson thinks that…” Then he stopped.

“What, Errol?”

“Colson says that Blackie did what she did to lure him out to that pasture, wanting revenge for the male he shot last week.”

“So Colson sounds as crazy as I sound now, eh?”

“I just work here, Boss.”

Jerry let out a tired and defeated laugh. “Technically you’re my boss, Errol, mayor, right?”

Errol let out a stale laugh of his own. “The state’s prolly going to revoke our charter after this. This town existed on their life support and the Rev’s charity and now he’s dead.”

This was the topic neither man had wanted to face. Errol would go to their state representative every year at state capitol to beg for the money to allow Elton Township to exist. Money enough for a sheriff and a mailman. As it was they were both making minimum wage. Jerry often wondered why Errol did it. He wasn’t getting paid to be mayor, and he could go be mailman anywhere. Maybe he was just a good man, like the Rev, plus Jerry couldn’t escape what would happen if their charter got revoked. If they were merged with a township nearby, he’d get fired immediately. The other sheriffs knew he was a good guy, but they also knew he was a drunk. And they knew why a cop from Detroit ended up as sheriff of the last place on earth.

CHAPTER 6

Fucking
shack
. This was the best description he could think of right now. Kenny sat motionless, staring at the little cabin. He was raised here, yet the mental pictures had never looked like this. In his mind it was bigger, brighter, and cleaner. This would have sent Kelly into a seizure had she still been alive. Her parents would call the Child Protection Services when they found out about it. In his mind, Elton Township was poor but bright. But this place was blighted.

Jenny broke the dead silence. “Daddy… is this where you grew up?”

Jake pulled out his camera phone and started tapping keys. Then his face tightened into a further expression of disgust. “No service.”

A spooked look came over Jenny. “Daddy, are we going to be… cut off here?” She had no understanding of this, and neither did Jake. Both had been in a fully interconnected world right from their first footsteps. There were serious things Kenny hadn’t thought about before putting them in the truck back in Houston.

“This is a shithole.” Jake spoke without looking up, still trying to acquire a signal.

“Daddy, is this where you grew up?” Jenny asked again with quiet sympathy.

He turned around and tried to look optimistic, like this was an adventure. “Yeah kids, it’s not what you’re used to but we’re just getting away for a while. Away from the city, away from… cell phones and stuff. It’ll take just a little bit of love and some work, and we’ll fix it right up.”

Jake looked up from his phone. “Take me to grampa’s house. I don’t want to be here.”

Jenny looked at Jake, then looked back to her dad. “It’s okay, Daddy, I’ll try it.”

Kenny brightened. “Yeah, it’ll be like summer camp right? We’ll live in a cabin, we’ll go fishing in the river, and you won’t believe how beautiful it is when the trees begin to turn. Seriously, this can be one of the most beautiful places in the fall.”

“Sounds… fun, Daddy.” Jenny tried, but the disjointed fear of being this far away from everything she’d known, plus the fact of how dismal the cabin looked, was printed across her face.

“I can’t wait for you kids to see the lake, in a few months we’ll be ice skating out there, god there’s so many memories!”

Jake spat on the ground, “
Months
?”

Kenny saw Jenny wince, then try to resume her role as the optimistic kid. “Yeah, Daddy, you’ve never really said anything about where you grew up, I’d really love to hear all about it.”

***

For a few years after Lucky had hit the road he’d burned with rage at his old life. During those first years he’d flown into violent furies, causing some close calls. He’d realized that, despite all the wrongs which had been inflicted on him, he would have to bear the pain and
know
; the past is the past and he wouldn’t be able to redress these grievances. He simply wouldn’t get away with it. If anything had happened to the principal players in the drama, all fingers would be pointing to him.

So he lived the best he could, given the magnitude of his loss.

At first he’d hung around the Hell’s Angels club in Detroit. He’d been a hit with the guys from day one, so he’d dropped the clean-cut All-American look, had grown out his hair, and started learning from the best. He’d liked that they treated women as property, but he didn’t like sharing
his
property.
His
women were
his
. He’d also discovered meth while riding with the Angels, but had quickly discovered its dangerously addictive qualities. He couldn’t Read the Signs while on it. He’d lose all of his ability to influence others, becoming just like everyone else. To be
Lucky
he needed to be completely clear.

He’d also found out that the government would give away free money if you asked for it. Most of the guys had their ladies on the dole and working for cash at the same time. He admired that angle, but the money just went up their noses. Very few of them had any real cash. Lucky saw bigger opportunities, but he’d need to strike out on his own to make it work. What was his was his. He didn’t want to support any bikers with his cash. But they’d shown him all the ingredients which would serve him well in later years.

He throttled the Harley into a lower gear, breathing in the air as he crossed the border from Wisconsin into the Upper Peninsula. He’d ridden almost without stopping since California, all the while the images, sounds, feelings and tastes becoming stronger, pulling him like a magnet, guiding him home. As the landscape had changed from desert to prairie to mountains and forests, the images had changed as well. He saw what could be, what
would
be if he was strong enough, if he gave himself, if he believed with all his heart and soul. He could be a vessel for something which would give him the justice he’d been denied.

Since he’d hit the road he hadn’t felt the Big Tree even though he’d been using the gifts and knew that it was
still there
, eternal, waiting and watching for something. And that
something
was now here. Now the Big Tree was with him again, holding him in its embrace of power and love, and declaring to the world
; “This is My Son, the dearly loved, in whom is My delight.”