The Wisdom of Evil (11 page)

Chapter
15

In the year two-thousand and twelve, theories abounded. This was supposed to be a pinnacle year, a turning point for the entire world. There truly was a feeling in the air; the winds of change were no doubt on the horizon. Biblical theologians pondered the idea that this may be the year which bore witness to the second coming of Christ. The year that the Rapture would occur; where “the faithful” would be swept up into the sky from whence they stood, up into the Kingdom of Heaven. Thereafter, the great tribulation would occur, causing suffering on a massive scale. The earth would quake, the waters rage, the very magnetic core of the earth would shift. The world’s economies would fail, taking down the government with it. All this before the new age, one of peace and enlightenment, could come to pass. At that time, the truth of all things would be revealed.

Against this canvas of uncertainty and fear,
Glory’s own life was about to dramatically change. Everyone made choices, some good ones; some people are not proud of and would rather forget. Once a choice becomes an action, there would be consequences. Sometimes the consequences cost a little, other times they cost a lot, and at other times, they cost all you have.

It
was on that hot and humid night in July when Glory was sitting on the back deck of her house, Haley at her feet, that she made a choice that changed everything. The house was deathly quiet. Mickey was in his room on the computer. Michael was at yet another domestic violence call.

She
knew as the sun began to set that little time was left before she’d have to get indoors and shut down the house. She kept her gun holstered at her side all the time now. Most days were relatively safe to be outside. However, the nights were not.

It started with a sudden quivering in Haley’s hind legs and before
Glory knew what was happening. He was enmeshed in a full blown seizure. His eyes were glazed and his tongue hung to one side. His breathing was very shallow and quick. This was an emergency.
I’m only a vet tech, not a vet
, she thought. What the hell should she do?

“
Oh God, not Haley
,” she thought. She couldn’t bear it. “Don’t take him from me, please, Lord.” She spoke the words as an expression more than a plea for help. No “higher power” was listening. No one could save him. He was twelve years old and his time had come. That was all there was to it, no more, no less.

His breath
ing became haggard and every few seconds, he stopped breathing altogether. Glory knew exactly what that meant!

“Gloooo-reeee, I’m go
ing to take him. Soon, he shall be mine…” The voice of the Reaper! Since some time had passed since she’d last encountered the entity, she assumed incorrectly that she was rid of it.

“No!
You can’t have him!” she shouted in the empty air.

An echo of laughter, surround
ed her, enveloped her, was literally within her, relentless! She ran into the house in a blind panic, Haley in her arms.

“Hang in there
, Haley. Hang on my good boy. I’ll be right back.” She placed him on the couch and hesitated for only a moment, not wanting to leave the room not wanting Haley to die alone.

She dialed her cell, hands shaking on the numbered keys.

“Kate! It’s Glory. Haley’s havin’ a seizure. Can you please open the hospital so I can rush him over there?” She’d called Kate because she lived a few doors down from the hospital.

“I can, Glory…but the bridge! You’ll have to come over the Piscataqua to get here.”

“I don’t care! I’ll get Mickey to come with me. We’ll be armed…I can’t just do
nothin’
, Kate!”

Kate
sighed and finally agreed. “Okay. Be careful, Glory. I’ll be waitin’. Use your key to get in. I’m not gonna open the door for anyone. I’ll call Dr. Moulton right now. He’s the only vet I’m sure will come. See you in a bit.”

Glory frantically raced around, wrapping Haley in a fleecy blanket.

“C’mon,” she said to Mickey. “We need ta take Haley to Mainely Paws, now!”

“Are you
serious
? What about the bridge?”

“Get Dad’s
Deerslayah, the rifles, and your handgun. I’ve got mine already.”

Mickey loaded the Winchester 12 gauge shotgun, the rifle
, and two boxes of ammo into Glory’s Jeep.

Still, the
Grim Reaper was relentlessly at her ear, hissing now. “Heeesssss miiiiine.”

“Shut the fuck up!” she screamed.

“What the hell did I say?” Mickey asked, shocked that she’d yelled at him like that.

“I wasn’t talkin’ to you.
”

“Then who? There’s no one else here, Mom
!”

The bridge itself
in broad daylight was depressing and disturbing as suicide increased, but at night… Theft and murder owned the night. Thieves attempted to stop motorists by throwing rocks at the cars or standing right in front of them. When the vehicle had no choice but to stop, even though the drivers tried to defend themselves, they were often beaten, stabbed, and left for dead. No one would dare stop to help. These newly made thieves and murderers could be former neighbors, perhaps even old friends.

Oft
en, they’d catch a glimpse of the faces of desperation on the bridge or throughout the small coastal community of Cliff’s End, someone they knew by name. Maybe the parents of some of their kid’s friends; others they saw frequently at town functions like the yearly Harvest Festival. One thing about a small town was everyone really
did know
everyone and it was virtually impossible to keep secrets. Knowing their neighbors in all their humanity, good and bad, was one of the many things Glory and Michael had loved about Cliff’s End. But now, as much as they wanted to help, they couldn’t without putting their own family in jeopardy. After all, God didn’t see it fit to intervene. Why should they be better than he? Glory often thought this; a way to rationalize the guilt she felt at being unable to help.

C
autiously, they went down the driveway and out onto the road.

“I’ll be
God dammed if
he’s
going to take Haley away too,” Glory muttered. She sat in the backseat, Haley’s head in her lap. Mickey drove. Both had one hand on their guns, fully loaded, safety off, ready to fire in an instant if necessary.

“
If anyone gets in your way, just…run ‘em over.”

“
Okay, Mom, but only if I have to.”

“
Of course. We’re not murderers. Only if we have to.” After all, they were the good guys, weren’t they?

Mickey drove without headlights
; the night was pitch black, the stars brilliant. There were no street lights in their rural area.

Glory called Michael on her cell to let him know what was going on. He picked up right away.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“It’s Haley,
Michael; we’re takin’ him to the animal hospital right now. He’s had a seizure.”

“Are you fucking
crazy
? You can’t go there…at night! Is Mickey with you?

“Yeah, he’s with me.
Kate’s openin’ the hospital for us.”

“
I’ll meet yah there. I’m in Kittery right now, so I should be there before you. Do you at least have guns with you?”

“Yeah, of course we’re armed. I’m not stupid, Michael!”

There was no sense arguing with her; she was strong willed and was going to do what she set out to do and damn the consequences.

“Okay, I’ll, uh, see you in a bit. Be
careful
! Shoot first, ask questions later. Got it?”

She hung up. Her eyes
were peeled for any threats of danger coming their way. So far, the streets were deserted, even as they took the turn onto Route ninety-five south headed for the Pisquataqua. The tension in the car was so thick; one could cut it with a knife.

The bridge loomed just ahead of them.
The familiar sign, “Maine—worth a visit, worth a lifetime,” once so inviting was now covered with graffiti; ugly, black paint stating “Anarchy Rules.”

Their eyes looked all around them
at every angle. There was no one. Or so they assumed. These “crazies,” as they’d come to be known, were like vampires, committing their crimes under the cover of night.

Out of nowhere, a man jumped onto the hood of the Jeep, startling Mickey, who swerved to the left to avoid hitting the guard rail. The man pounded on the windshield with what appeared to be a hammer, but the windshield held. Mickey pulled the vehicle hard left,
and then swerved hard right, trying to throw the intruder off the truck, but he held on tight. When the man’s body swung over to the left side of the hood, Mickey deliberately slammed the Jeep into the guardrail. Still, the guy hung on! They couldn’t believe it! One of the man’s feet smashed the headlight.

“What the
…frig!
Get offa my car!”
Mickey screamed. He used his free hand to grab hold of his gun.

Glory’s eyes were wide with fear
, and something else too—
recognition
.

When the man had first jumped on the hood, he’d appeared all sweaty flesh and hair, his face a grimace of maniacal malice. Now, for some unknown reason, he
peered at them in desperation.

“Mickey! Do y
ou know who that is?”

“No! Who fuckin’ cares
?” He struggled to keep control of the vehicle, smashing it into the guardrail and swerving left, hitting the cement barrier that separated the north and south bound lanes. There was no way to turn around. Once they were on the bridge, they knew they were committed to go all the way across.

“It’s…Mr. Gale! Your math teacher from middle school.”

“Holy shit, you’re right, Mom! Why the hell is he doing…this?”

“Don’t you remember when they laid off all
those teachers back in two-thousand nine? He was one of ‘em. And there ain’t many jobs here anymore.”

Mr. Gale
’s eyes were wide, pleading, like those of a wounded animal. He kept looking down to his left and back to the windshield. Then the screaming began, and didn’t stop. “Help me, pleeeeaaaassee!”

“Oh my God, Mom! I think he’s
stuck
. I can’t tell! Take…the wheel, quick.”

Glory gently moved Haley from her lap. Thankfully, he was still breathing, fast shallow breaths, but still with them. Glory climbed into the driver
’s seat from the back. Mickey slid over to the passenger side and opened the window.

Leaning out as far as possible, one hand on the rim of the window, one on his gun
, he saw it! Mr. Gale’s foot had become caught in the Jeep’s side grill and it wouldn’t come loose.

“Help me,
please
!” The panicky screams were deafeningly awful.

“Stop the car, Mom! Stop!”

Glory slammed on the brakes, coming to a screeching halt, the vehicle coming to rest sideways on the pavement.

Mickey got out, closing the door after him. As he did, Glory watched. Everything happened as if in slow motion. A quick flash of
steel glittered in Mr. Gale’s hand. He had a gun!

“
Mickey! He’s armed!”
She shouted.

Mickey looked into the man’s eyes
, a man he once respected, who’d tutored him with algebra. A good and decent man reduced to little more than an animal. He looked like a madman!

Their eyes met, locked
, and Mr. Gale’s gun came up, aimed toward Mickey’s chest. In an instant, Mickey fired, and fired again and again, not even aiming. Mr. Gale fell silent to the ground. His face was just
gone,
lost in a mangled mess of bloody flesh, brain spatter and bone
.

Glory got out of the vehicle. Staring down at Mr. Gale, she was at once horrified! The look on Mickey’s face
mirrored her own. The face was bad enough, but now they could see that his foot was indeed stuck in the grill. The angle was sickening, his ankle and shin had both snapped; bone protruded through his blood soaked pants. Glory threw up.

Swiftly and silently, Mickey opened the back of the Jeep and pulled out a machete.

“What are you gonna do with that?” Glory had never seen the weapon before.

“We have t
o get outta here, fast!”

Mickey held Mr. Gale’s leg taut, and in one swift, powerful slice, he cut his foot off, releasing the man from the grill at last. Glory would never forget th
e whooshing sound the blade made coming down through the desolate night as long as she lived.

“Help me throw him over the bridge, Mom!”

She walked slowly over to the grisly sight.

“Hurry! There could be more of them.”

Between the two of them, they hauled him up and threw him over the guardrail into the cold waters of the Pisquataqua River.