The Wisdom of Evil (8 page)

Her
eyes grew wild again as Michael, Mickey and Olivia walked into the room.

“
See them,” she said in a mere wisp of words, her eyes wide. She was looking into a corner where there was nothing except a chair. “They’ve been whispering all day. They won’t stop. I can’t…understand what they’re saying. It’s all…mixed up and now they’re here. Not just the voices anymore…I
see
…them!”

Michael and
Glory saw nothing. A chill ran up Glory’s spine. Was she seeing that
thing
, the Reaper that had been plaguing her off and on for years? This was no human opponent after all; she felt like a pawn on a chessboard. She never knew when it would appear, but she remembered when her mother had passed away. The smoke, the horrid face, and of course, that night—the thing polluting her very bed!

“I can’t…what are they saying? The whispering, don’t you hear…?
”

“Are they scary, Nana?” Mickey asked. He didn’t want her to be afraid.

“No, dear.” She smiled and put her hand to his cheek. “They’re not.”

Her eyes closed
; breathing slowed as she slipped into a peaceful sleep. Michael and Glory prayed each time she took a breath that she would continue to keep breathing.

At
one o’clock p.m. she inhaled a breath and never exhaled it. She was gone.

W
here she went, no one really knew, did they? Glory had been raised to believe in God, but her faith was shaky at best. She knew that Joan saw something in the moments before death took her, but she’d never know…until it was her turn.

There was no black mist rising from Joan and passing through the
window pane. All was peaceful. Only the glittering white of the new falling snow appeared at the window.

As
they were leaving the hospital, the front desk staff wished them a Merry Christmas. They walked through the lobby strewn with pine; the smell of it, one of Glory and Joan’s favorite scents of the holidays, went unappreciated. As did the white twinkling lights hanging above them on the ceilings.

Once outside
, they drew a deep breath of the cold, crisp December air. Trudging through the snow, which still fell steadily and quietly, Glory spotted a group of teenagers laughing and throwing snowballs at one another, sliding along the slippery parking lot. The scene seemed strange, surreal somehow. In the midst of their sorrow, life went on. Death had not yet touched these young souls. She was envious of their frivolous youth.

Glory and Michael’s
son went with them to the funeral home, picking out the casket for his beloved grandmother. He chose one made of brushed steel in the most delicate olive green with elegant pale pink roses inlaid around its sides. “Nana loved roses,” he said.

Michael and
Glory told him how proud they were of him for doing this last, loving thing for her.

He nodded, but did
n’t look up as his hand touched the cold, steel casket lovingly, two small tears coming to rest on the top of it.

“She’s…my Nana,” he mumbled
, walking away, wiping at his eyes with his shirtsleeve.

Although J
oan passed away on December eighth, she couldn’t be buried until April. Again, they had to wait, the same as with Glory’s mother, who’d also passed away in the winter months.

The Maine ground
was hard and unforgiving and could not be moved until the snow had melted and the ground softened. The dead were kept in holding until such time that burial was possible.

This caused
Glory’s family many nights of pain, not just from the grief they shared, but from knowing Joan was in a refrigeration compartment at the funeral home, a place they avoided like the plague. It hurt to know she was right there, although forever unreachable. For some unknown reason, there were no visits from the Reaper during that time. Perhaps, in her great sorrow, the Reaper was unimportant and he knew it.

Her body was
in limbo for those months and, of course, in April, they had to re-live their loss all over again when it was finally time to put her to rest.

Ch
apter 10

Finally, after the bleak winter days, which brought the death of the last of their parents, spring came to Maine.

Spring in Maine
was special simply because it was the shortest of the seasons.

A touch of snow still lingered on the ground where the first flowers of
spring, the Crocus, pushed their way upward toward the sun.

For
Glory, the best part of spring was when the lilacs bloomed. The most beautiful smell in the world emanated from these tiny flowers, sweeter smelling than any perfume created by man.

She
picked plumb, heavily laden branches from her lilac shrub out back, spreading them in vases throughout the house each spring. Oh, how Joan had loved them as well. She filled a vase and brought them down to place on her grave.

As always,
Glory took her dog, Haley. He’d sniff and chuff at the grave, lie down, and softly whine. That dog was always there for her. Faithful and loving unconditionally as only the canine species seemed genuinely capable of.

In the bright spring sunlight,
she noticed that his snout was now completely gray. He was getting old at a mere ten human years.

She
bent down to rub his ears, which he loved so, and hugged him fiercely “It isn’t fair,” she murmured as he leaned his muscular form into her. How she loved this dog. He’d become her comfort while Michael worked nights and the kids were so busy with all their various activities.

Glory truly believed that there was one true soul mate animal for each human being, and Haley was hers. Surely, no evil could come to her or her family with Haley by their side
. He wouldn’t allow it.

Riding home
in a comfortable silence, Glory’s thoughts ran one over the other and she realized that everything she once thought she knew about life was wrong. She didn’t know more as she got older; she simply had more questions and less time to find the answers. If there even were any answers.

In the year that followed,
the family began to recuperate from their loss. The world moved on, taking them along with it. Glory learned a few things in that time, most of what she’d learned from Joan. She tried hard to appreciate the little things, remembering Joan saying “the little things, when added up over a lifetime, are really quite large.”

Maybe
that was what life was, a series of small things that were overlooked as people constantly strived for more; more of the big stuff, the material things that culture insisted humans needed to be fulfilled.
Could it really be that simple
? Glory thought.

As
mankind struggled with its petty trials and tribulations, the seasons still changed, the beauty of each one of them always there whether they were noticed or not.

To smell the great Maine pines after a rain had kissed them
, or listen to the songs of wind chimes on a really windy day. Seeing that perfect rainbow as the sun shone behind the clouds casting spears of light upward toward heaven. Sights that lasted for only a finite moment in time, and yet has the ability to uplift the soul each time it was remembered.

Or to watch
one’s children grow and thrive, to sit in comfortable silence next to a husband with whom you are still in love with after many years of marriage.

Her
childhood had taught her many things on how to survive in the flawed family dynamic she grew up in; however, it also taught her to surround herself with a hard shell so she’d be less vulnerable to hurt and pain at the hands of those who were supposed to love and care for her.

So
determined not to be like them, she became cold and detached. Yet, Michael and her family had taught to give and accept love, to
trust
them.

Still, the crimes escalated in southern Maine as the United State
s began its slow but steady decline into a full blown depression. Thankfully, both Michael and Glory still had jobs, but many did not. As want became need, crime against property rose; theft, burglary and robbery. With those needs unfulfilled, the crimes became increasingly violent and disturbing. Not just confined to the cities, but spreading like a viscous web, reaching into the normally docile rural communities as well.

During this time, Glory had seen the
Reaper only once, but in a dream. Was he done with her? She’d slept out on the couch for months after he’d first appeared in her bed. Michael suspected she was harboring a secret, but said nothing.

He was in
harm’s way every night as a cop and his focus was now on survival and protecting his family. For the first time since coming to Cliff’s End, he was thankful he’d worked as a cop in a large city such as Boston. His skills were invaluable to the small town police force. So much so, he’d been promoted to Sergeant.

As
is true with most people, as time went by, the kids now young adults, Glory and Michael became complacent, not seeing what was truly going on, not only in their country, but in their own home.

For one thing,
Olivia was spending a lot of her time in Boston with her cousin, Sean. Glory had told her to stop going down there, but she insisted he was making progress with her help.

Mickey commented on a number of occasions that he suspected it was the other way around
; that Olivia was gradually being pulled into Sean’s world of addiction.

“Just look
at her eyes, Mom,” he’d say.

Glory
looked, but she only saw what she wanted to see.

The nightly news was
frightening. Events both scary and strange appeared nightly. There was nothing supernatural about it. Unlike Glory’s encounters with the Reaper, these horrors were not from another realm; they were the reality of all.

The economy was
eroding at a rapid pace. The stock market was on precarious ground indeed. Banks and insurance companies both were bailed out by the taxpayers, and still there were less and less jobs to be had.

Every
day yet another American corporation was linked to scandal and dirty dealings, which affected everyone, but hit the American Middle Class hard. So, what else was new? And yet, this was somehow different, more ominous than the travesties of the past.

A slow, creeping paranoia gnawed at the edges of Glory’s mind, but she was
unable to pinpoint the exact origin of the feeling. Each time the feeling came over her, she heard soft, sinister laughter echoing in her head. It was him! She knew it, though she dared not challenge the creature for fear it would materialize and take another loved one away. Or kill her.

Instead, s
he watched as evil unfolded across their great country. She feared for Michael’s safety out there on the front lines. She was afraid for her family, afraid of losing her job as so many others had. The innate will to survive was overriding the moral fiber of humanity. All species would always do whatever was necessary to preserve their lives. It was an instinct, and the most powerful motivator of all.

They had a state of the art security system installed in their home and Michael insisted Glory learn how to fire a hand gun. Mickey already knew how
to use guns. Maine was big on hunting and fishing. The kids had grown up around guns and learned to respect them. An antique, locked gun cabinet contained the rifles and shotgun, as well as an antique rifle Michael’s father had left him. The key hung on the chain around Michael’s neck, along with his dog tags; the only jewelry he wore, other than his wedding band.

Glory’s hands tensed as he placed the .32 caliber automatic handgun in them. Out in the back woods, he
’d set up target paper for her to shoot at. He showed her time and again how to release the safety, to hold the weapon hand over hand, arms straight, and elbows slightly bent, until he was sure she had command of the weapon.

“I’m not here
all the time and neither is Mickey. You
need
to know this. Olivia too.”

Poor Olivia
; the gun shook in her delicate hands. She cried, saying she could never kill anything. Michael sternly insisted she learn, even though his heart hurt to see her pain at the thought of it.

C
hapter 11

Every year in June, on the weekend of their wedding anniversary, Michael and Glory took a trip to the White Mountains. The kids were given their instructions while they were away. After all, who knew what kind of trouble two teens could get into without their parents’ prying eyes?

The beauty of the mountains
relaxed them. This time was about just the two of them. It was a time to meander through the town of North Conway, holding hands, going back to their tiny bungalow to make love, sit by the fire with a glass of champagne and talk. Both of them felt this much loved ritual was vital to keeping their marriage healthy.

This time, however,
something was distracting her. An intuition of sorts; something was going to happen. She had no idea where, when and to whom, just that it was something
bad
.

T
hen she saw it, in the pool, where she sat reading a book while Michael napped. A foggy substance was emerging from the water!

It turned smoky gray, just hovering above the water. Glory ceased to breathe, her eyes opened wide. Now, the smoke was
iridescent black. All at once, it made its way into the water itself, turning the aqua color to pitch black. There were a few other sunbathers lounging in chairs on the other side of the pool. They never stirred, which meant, this “vision” was meant for Glory’s eyes only. She got up fast, causing the lounge chair to tip on its side.

People were
looking at her now, but her eyes were on the water. She ran toward the bungalow, holding in a scream, not wanting to cause a scene. From behind her, right at her very ear, came a voice;
its
voice! “You can run, but you cannot hide…” It was chasing her!

She slammed the door of the bungalow hard, shutting it out
. Thankfully, she hadn’t woken Michael up. He slept like the dead, just like always.

She curled up in a ball beside him, shaking all over, her scalp wet with sweat.

“Glooooo-reeeee.” The voice was a mere echo of a whisper.

“Leave me alone!” Glory shouted, putting her hands
over her ears to block out the horrid sound.

“Babe?”
Michael turned over. “What’s wrong? You’re soakin’ wet and shakin’.”

“It…happened again, Michael. I saw the blackness, and he spoke to me. At the pool…the water turned black and it…chased me back here!”

“
Who
chased you?”

“Death. The thing I saw at my mother’s funeral. It’s been haunting me on and off for years, Michael! It’s the Grim
Reaper himself and he…wants to take away the people I love.”

Michael sighed with impatience.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Look, I love you, always have, always will
, but this whole Grim Reaper thing has gone way too far. You need to talk to someone and I mean soon, like when we get home.”

“And how the hell is a shrink supposed to make this thing go away? I don’t think the
Thanatophobia has anything to do with this. It’s…something else.”

“
Like what?”

“A warning maybe? That someone is going to die. This time was
different
than the other times. He’s appeared after someone died or in my dreams.” She failed to mention the creature had been in bed with her. “It felt like a premonition or somethin’.”

“Okay, that does it. You
will
see a doctor when we get home. That’s not a request, Glory.”

“Who the hell made you my boss?” Glory was angry that he assumed she was under his command. Treating her like one of his subordinates
, being a police sergeant now. How
dare
he?

Heading for home now, Glory wasn’t speaking to Michael
. She was furious with him.

As
they approached their driveway, the sight awaiting them caused Glory to feel physically ill. She heard Michael take a sharp intake of breath, his eyes wide. A police car sat with lights flashing. It wasn’t a vehicle with the familiar Cliff’s End emblem on the side; it was a Boston police car!

T
wo men dressed in tidy suits stood at the back doorway to their house as Mickey paced with head down and hands in his pockets. Haley stood beside him, sniffing at the men’s slacks, tail wagging hesitantly.

All eyes turned to
ward Michael and Glory. Quickly, they exited the car, meeting the grim-faced men and their frantic son.

“Thank
God!” Mickey exclaimed. “I have been trying to reach you for
ever!
Why didn’t you answer your cell?”

“No reception
in the mountains, and by the time we were in range, I realized the battery had gone dead,” Michael said. “What the hell is goin’ on?

The two men approached
them.

What kind of trouble
are Olivia and Mickey
in?
Glory thought. “Ma’am, Sir. May we come inside and talk?” the older of the two men asked. He had a kind face and gentle smile, which did nothing to calm Glory’s apprehension.

“I
’m sorry to have to inform you that there’s been an incident involving your daughter.”

“What
incident
? Where
is
she? Why didn’t you bring her home?” the questions tumbled out of Glory’s mouth in rapid succession. “Mickey?” Her eyes begged with him to quell her fears.

“
Maybe you should sit down,” Mickey said quietly.

“No, I’m fine, just…somebody tell
us what the
hell
is going on.”

“We found your daughter on the church steps of Saint Ma
ry’s early this morning,” explained the younger of the two officers.

“
Is she all right? Where
is
she?” Michael reached for his wife’s hand. His palm was sweaty in hers.

“I
’m sorry…no, sir, she’s not all right. She was…pronounced dead at the scene. Cause of death was an apparent overdose of heroin,” replied the young officer.

“That can’t be! Olivia
doesn’t do drugs. How do you know it wasn’t someone else?” Glory’s voice was high pitched; she was virtually pleading with the officer to take his words back! She was near to hysterics in her misery and disbelief. “Has to be someone else…not…her…no way.” She shook her head violently from side to side. It just didn’t make sense.

“
Ma’am, it was her. We’re sure of it.” The young officer, tried desperately to look Michael and Glory in the eye. He couldn’t do it. Instead, he fixed his eyes down at his feet.

“
Was she with…her cousin, Sean?” Michael asked, his voice taking on a hard, angry edge.

“No sir. She was found when the parish priest went to open the doors to the church this morning. The needle was still in her arm. She was alone.”

“That bastard left her there? To die alone?” Michael was furious. “Did you at least find and question him about what happened? I
know
he had to be there. I
know
it.”

“
Yes, sir, we were able to locate him. Olivia had a letter in her jacket pocket, had his name and address on it.  Sean claims he got scared when she wouldn’t wake up and he didn’t want to be there when she was found,” explained the older officer, looking Michael directly in the eye even as the young officer stood slightly behind him. “I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry we are for your loss, Sergeant Solomon, Mrs. Solomon. I hate to ask, but it’s standard procedure, as I’m sure you’re aware of, Sergeant. We need you too…identify the, um, your daughter. She’s at the Suffolk County morgue.”

“
Oh nooooo!” Glory sank to the floor, her cry sounding foreign, guttural, like a wounded animal. She grabbed hold of Michael’s shirt sleeve, pulling him down with her. Both of them now slumped up against the kitchen cabinet doors. Mickey stood beside his mother, his hand on her shoulder, jaw clenched, his face wet with tears.

Haley
whined, low in his throat, tail down, licking first at Glory’s face, then Michael’s.

On the terrible drive to Boston, which may as well
have been hell, Glory thought,
surely, this is a nightmare.
Because if it wasn’t, she wondered how they’d be able to go on after this.

Even while the thought of seeing Olivia in death was sickening, still
, she wanted to see her face, touch her hair, and kiss her cheek.

When
they passed the Welcome to Massachusetts sign, Glory turned to Michael and said, “This is the last time I will
ever
step foot in this fuckin’ state as long as I live. I’m done. Done with all of them!” She blamed Ted and Sean for this; and to think, they’d moved to Maine to get away from crime, drugs, and her family. Bitter anger mingled with heartbreak. Glancing over at Michael, she saw these same emotions etched upon his face.

As
they drove up to the Suffolk County morgue, flowers of all kinds and colors were planted, the ground covered with red hued mulch. The plantings did nothing to take away from the worn out, ugly, dirt covered red brick of the building itself.

Michael silently handed
Glory one of the Xanax her doctor had prescribed without hesitation before they left Maine. She took it without any water.

Michael shook his head when
she’d asked him if he wanted one.

“No,
” he said. “I needa be alert to see this the way it is. I need to hang onto my anger right now.”

They walked into the cold building
. The institutional pale green walls and the workers with their white hair caps and sterile latex gloves made it all the more ominous.

They
were led down a dreadful windowless corridor and into the room with all the stainless steel drawers and tables, the very heart of the horror. Which drawer had they put their baby in? How many other parents had been here, their sorrows forever lingering in the place where nightmares resided?

A
drawer numbered two-twenty-two slid easily on greased rails, revealing a shrouded figure lying on the table.

The
medical examiner’s assistant looked at both of them until they nodded that they were ready. He pulled back the cover, revealing the beloved face of their daughter.

Her lips were blue
, her skin a sour gray, but her hair shone with its intricately laced golden strands, as always.

As the
medical examiner went to cover her up, Michael grabbed his arm. “No. I wanna see where the needle was in her arm. I need to see it.” His tone was almost as harsh and cold as the room itself.

“No, Michael. I can’t look at it. I can’t!”
Glory said in anguish.

“
I wanna see how that son of a bitch left our child like a bag of trash on the steps of a church.”

And there it was, a grotesque purple bruising all around the point of impact; a tiny needle mark, that was all
, and yet that tiny mark had ended Olivia’s life.

Glory
had known much loss in her life, but this…she didn’t think that this could ever happen in her own family. It was a tragic and wasteful death, one that many a parent had suffered in this country, but surely they should be spared this. They’d left the inner city with its poverty and drugs and crime to give their children a better life in Maine.

Yet
, here they were, looking at the most dreadful heartache of all, with funeral plans to make for a teenage girl. Glory blamed herself. She’d turned a blind eye to what Mickey had been trying to tell her.

She
blamed Michael for not protecting her. She blamed God for, surely, how could he allow this horror on the very steps of his own house?

Most of all,
she blamed her brother Ted and his son for all the evil they’d brought, trespassing into her family’s world. She shouldn’t have allowed Olivia befriend Sean, should have forbidden her to go there. Poor Michael; she’d kept him in the dark about some of it, leaving him to be completely blindsided. She’d
never
forgive her brother for this or his piece of shit son.

Just how much c
an this family take before it breaks?
Glory thought.

That night
, Glory fell into a drug induced albeit fitful sleep. Even in sleep, she couldn’t find peace. The nightmare was worse than any she’d ever had.

She was on a train,
but in the visage of a small child. A deluge of rain pummeled the train in fat, heavy drops, and she could hear the deafening sound it made as it hit the roof. As the train made its stops, she saw her parents.

Her
neck bulged as she tried to scream so they could hear her, yet no sound emanated from her throat. Even her mind was a soundless vacuum.

“
I’m lost, please…please find me. Take me home!”