Darkness upon the Land

Wednesday morning dawned with a few cumulous clouds bunched throughout the sky and Liana’s condition still unchanged. Yesterday evening, after Reuben wrapped the bodies in a couple of old sheets she kept on hand to use as bedding or bandages for the animals, he rummaged through the men’s belongings but found nothing of use beyond the partially loaded 9mm pistol, one spare full clip, and a bottle of cheap whiskey.

He figured out that Alexia thought both men were already dead when she came out to get him, and he saw no reason to tell her otherwise. When he returned to transport the bodies to the next hummock, he was relieved to confirm Hooter had passed away while he tried to regain his composure back in the house. Each ruffian had brought a change of clothes that were too large for him to consider confiscating, but they did make him wonder if the thugs were planning on staying at the Gautreaux place for a while.

That night he slept fitfully on the couch, his rifle within reach, while Alexia stayed with her mother. The aurora borealis glowed as brightly as it ever had.

It didn’t escape him how quickly he came to now think of her home as the Gautreaux place. He couldn’t really call it that before. Benedict Castille bought this property before he even met Liana, but since he had no interest in formally adopting Alexia, her mother kept her surname for both of them.

Reuben found nothing unusual about that. His mom, who was actually a couple of years older than his dad, kept her maiden name because she was already professionally established when they married. When his parents had kids they simply gave their son his father’s surname and their daughter her mother’s surname. But since they lived on the farm that his dad had grown up on, everybody still knew it as the Baldridge place.

As he rode Elsie toward town his thoughts drifted to Ben. He had decided to take the horse instead of one of the bicycles for several practical reasons. Although the old mare probably couldn’t outrun a rheumatic gerbil on a rusty wheel, he figured she still had the qualities of height, weight and mass that could prove useful in a pinch. And with any luck he would need her to haul back some supplies that would never pack on a bicycle.

Ben had always considered the horse to be one of Liana’s useless expenditures. He seemed to take pleasure in complaining about how she liked to spend his money, although it was Reuben’s observation that Alexia’s stepfather was the one who took the most pleasure in spending money.

As an oil executive, Ben was a wealthy man. He had enough Cajun in him to desire a spread of land where he could hunt and fish and have someplace dry to sleep, but the Esperanza property was strictly a playground to him. For daily life he preferred the hustle and glitter of New Orleans.

When Liana married him she made it clear that she and Alexia were going to stay at Esperanza because it was healthier for her daughter’s sensitive dietary needs. The family was usually together only on the weekends or when Ben took leave from work, and even then two or three weeks might pass that the girl wouldn’t even hear from her stepfather.

Reuben had reached the conclusion this was merely a marriage of convenience. Whenever Ben did return to his playground, he never helped out around the place although he treated Liana like his plaything. Considering how her judgment was otherwise sound, she must have married the man for his wealth and property in order to take care of her daughter’s special needs. But Reuben could tell her trade-off involved appeasing a selfish and most likely unfaithful husband.

This had its effect on Alexia, whose relationship with Ben was distant yet deep. It had probably contributed to her independent streak, which wasn’t a bad thing because it put her at the opposite end of the spectrum from the girls who crowed “Any dude’ll do.” Although initially she suffered from a touch of misandry when Reuben first met her, it seemed to diminish as their relationship continued – although he could still irritate her without even trying.

He started thinking about Ben this morning because he realized neither he nor Alexia seemed concerned about the man. Did her stepfather actually think it might be more secure for him to stay in New Orleans than head to his property in the country? Did he get stranded on the road on his way to Esperanza? Was he still packing when the phenomenon trapped him in the big city?

The only thing Reuben knew for sure was that Ben wasn’t here, and nobody seemed to worry or mind. In fact, he almost hated to admit, he was glad the man wasn’t around. Liana’s husband would have simply been a hindrance. But Reuben wasn’t comfortable with that attitude, which he could tell was desperately in need of some adjustment.

He’d had several disturbing dreams last night, but the worst nightmare caused him to awaken in a cold sweat. It couldn’t be a traditional nightmare where he had to flee from something monstrous. Instead, he had returned home, but then learned he had to kill everybody in the community, including his own family, and proceeded to do so. In other words, he was the monster.

One central principle prevalent in both Jewish spirituality and Cherokee “medicine” was the necessity of maintaining balance or harmony. In a culture that seemed filled with ever more extremes, the centered path was the one that led to tikkun olam, the repairing of the world. Acts of evil had to be counterbalanced with acts of good, or the whole world could be tipped into destruction.

Likewise this philosophy applied to personal life, and Reuben knew without a doubt that he had become distinctly unbalanced over the last few days. The stranger walking around inside his skin was the result, and he knew he had to start letting go of the anxiety and fear and negativity. He was well-practiced in surrendering his concerns, but it was a little harder this time. The problems he’d had before last week were insignificant compared to what he faced now.

He occasionally urged Elsie into a canter, but after a couple of minutes would slow the mare back to a walk. He spurred her into a trot only once and quickly decided she was no good at that gait – or he was too spoiled by the smooth clip of his Foxtrotter gelding back home. By the time he reached the outskirts of town he figured Elsie could use a little break, so Reuben dismounted and led the horse along the streets as he followed Alexia’s directions to the clinic.

With a population of just under two thousand, Esperanza was often dismissed as a one-stoplight town, but it was still at least four times as large and had one stoplight more than the little community of Donnick that he called home. His knowledge of this burg was somewhat limited. He had mostly just passed through, although he did accompany Liana occasionally with a trip to the market or the feed store or the Catholic Church, and once visited the DuBois House, a historical museum that was the main tourist attraction. He had never seen the clinic, however, and as he strode through the residential streets on his way to the business district he noticed few other people about.

They seemed to regard him with a mixture of wariness and reservation. Half a dozen elementary-school aged kids that were playing some form of kickball in a lot between two homes briefly suspended their activity to watch Reuben and Elsie approach. He noticed no adult was supervising, and hoped that meant things were quiet enough around here the residents didn’t feel the need to post a guard. He did wonder why there also didn’t seem to be any attempt to continue classes.

Most of the other people were pedestrians or bike riders, and he noticed the ones who did offer him any greeting remained reserved. He met even fewer people after turning right at the first stop sign, and when Reuben turned left at the park he realized he was growing uneasy.

He could see the green, metal sided building Alexia described, and the sight of two men lounging in lawn chairs at the top of the short concrete stoop only stirred his discomfort. His impulse was to avoid them, but he was desperate to obtain help for Liana. The men were also watching him approach, and from the borderline scowls on their faces he suspected that if he turned around at least one would come after him. He was committed to his task.

Reuben muttered in Cherokee to the horse, “Keep your mouth shut and let me do all the talking.”

The men were dressed in boots and jeans, and one wore a red polo shirt while the other had a short-sleeve Western style shirt striped in shades of blue. Both had ball caps on. What surprised him as he drew within a few yards from them was that each had a blue piece of paper about the size of an index card pinned to his shirt, with a star drawn in the corner and something written below it. They also wore gun belts with pistols. The taller, thinner one in red, with brown hair and beard stubble, rose to his feet.

“Where’d you come from?” he asked.

Lots of answers shot through Reuben’s mind, but he reckoned he’d better play nice. “I’ve been staying with Liana Gautreaux. South of here. I presume this is the health clinic?”

The other guard, a slightly rotund man with a dark brown mustache, chortled as Reuben came to a halt before them. He stuck his thumb toward the sign hanging above the steel door.

“You can do more than presume.”

“Ah. Who put that there?” He decided he’d better really play nice, and offered the best dopey grin he could work up under the circumstances. “Unfortunately Liana’s been hurt pretty badly. I was hoping someone at the clinic could help or I could get something for her?”

“Clinic’s closed,” Slim stated bluntly.

“Oh?” He tried not to let his wariness show as he regarded the thinner man. “When’s it gonna open again?”

“It only opens when it needs to be.”

Reuben frowned slightly. “Well, my friend needs help. So you can open it, right?”

The two men exchanged smug glances. Chuckles leaned forward in his chair.

“Couldn’t you come up with a better story than that?”

He shifted his attention to the rounder man. “I beg your pardon?”

“Most likely if you’ve got a friend that’s needing help, it’s only that her stash is running out and you’ve come up here to see what pain killers or other controlled substances you can get your hands on.”

These men just didn’t strike him as law officers even if that was what the stars were supposed to designate. He decided it wasn’t going to do him any good to divulge the whole truth to them, especially the part about his needing to dispose of two dead men.

“What I need most is medical assistance. Is there a doctor, nurse, EMT, somebody like that you could direct me to?”

“So you can do what?” Slim regarded him coolly. “All drug paraphernalia has been confiscated. You might as well keep moving on because you won’t find nothing here.”

“I just need a person with medical skill.”

“Well, ain’t that interesting?” Chuckles slid a sidelong glance toward his partner. “Sounds to me like you got some raw materials you need cooked up.”

He wasn’t going to get any help here. “Well, thanks anyway. I’ll just move on then.”

Slim suddenly drew and aimed his pistol. “Not so fast, stranger.”

He wished he’d listened to his gut.