Death Rhythm (2 page)

The second doe tried jumping over the car’s hood. Her jump was quick and graceful, her white tail pointed towards Heaven. The muscles in her legs stood taut against the dying sun as she sailed in an arc trying to reach the other side of the cement. But her hooves tripped on the hood, and she smashed into the windshield. Andy slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop. The doe rolled forward, off of the car, leaving a thick smear of blood on the hood.

Andy forced himself to loosen his grip on the steering wheel. He stared open-mouthed at the viscera on the windshield, unable to comprehend what just happened.

It had been so quick.

So violent.

Out of nowhere.

A swath of blood traveled slowly down the broken glass and collected like thick syrup in the air vents. Andy’s hands trembled as he quickly closed them, a thin mist of blood coating his knuckles.

He glanced in the rearview mirror and slowly backed up onto the shoulder. Gravel popped loudly beneath the tires.

He stopped. Turned off the engine.

Silence. Complete and utter silence, save for the ticking of the settling engine and the far-off chatter of a flock of geese. Their honking was distorted over the distance, reaching Andy in a wavering noise that amplified the stillness. Amplified his heart pounding in his ribcage like rocks being dropped in a hollow metal barrel.

He swallowed. Got out of the car and scouted the road behind.

He saw no one.

He walked hesitantly to the smashed doe, trying not to look too closely as he bent over and grabbed the hind legs. He dragged it off of the cement and onto the gravel of the highway’s edge. The sound of hide scraping against the road drew his eyes from the sunset and caused him to glance at the deer through squinting eyes.

There was blood everywhere. The deer’s head was unnaturally twisted.  The eyes seemed to stare at Andy, scrutinizing him.

He dropped it onto the gravel and turned his gaze across the pavement into the grass where the other doe was struggling to stand. She tried valiantly, but her hind legs were motionless, paralyzed, and she could only drag them behind while straining to pull herself forward. She tired and collapsed, waiting for more strength to start the hopeless struggle over again.

Andy looked around to see if he could spot the buck, but there was no sign of him. Instead, he spotted the lights of a highway patrol car rising above the horizon. 
Thank God…

As the patrol car neared, it slowed, finally stopping behind Andy’s car. The sheriff took his time getting out of the vehicle, most of his features hidden behind his hat and sunglasses. A brownish fuzz of close-cropped hair outlined the side of his ears. He surveyed the mess.

“I feel sorry for your car,” he finally said.

Before he mentioned it, Andy hadn’t paid much attention to the damage the deer had done. His mind was still on the mutilated deer itself.

“You okay? You got insurance?”

Andy nodded absently, glancing at the front of the car, at the huge dent in the hood. The windshield was embedded with an intricate spider web pattern splattered with blood.

Andy looked back at the poor doe.

“Yeah, you hit her pretty good.” The sheriff looked over at the other doe, still struggling in the grassy divide. “Good thing she didn’t come through the window.”

The sheriff went back to his patrol car, said something to his deputy and came back, pulling a handgun from his holster. He crossed the highway and put the gun to the struggling doe’s head.

The doe seemed to sense what was about to happen, pulling herself upright, then stiffening with the last ounce of survival in her. The report of the gun echoed, the only sound in the entire world, ringing in Andy’s ears, making his body twitch. He was cold. He shivered.

The sheriff holstered his pistol and came back over to Andy. “You can ride back with me if you want, or you can wait for the tow truck. I suggest you come with me, just because my car’s warm, and you look like you could use some warmth. The tow truck will be about twenty minutes.” He nodded over to Andy’s car. “Got a jacket in there?”

Andy shook his head no. He hadn’t been thinking of jackets or warmth when he left Cathy fifteen hours earlier.

Fifteen hours earlier, the moon had been a white scythe high over the horizon. The farthest things from Andy’s mind were a deer and a smashed up windshield.

He told her he’d be back. Maybe in a week, maybe a month. He told her he’d understand if she gave up on him.

Cathy remained silent behind her tears. When Andy bent down and kissed her cheek, she grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed it tightly. The lavender scent of her shampoo filled his nostrils, while tears filled his eyes in a quick, violent rush.

When he could finally focus again, he looked at Cathy as she lay in bed. He motioned with his hand to say good-bye, unable to smile. He walked out of the apartment building with only a duffel bag and found his car in the underground ramp. Fell into the seat like a zombie, no thoughts going through his head, being pulled along by his own self-loathing.

He felt detached, like he was watching this from somewhere else. Like he was dreaming.

He pulled out of the dirty white fluorescence of the ramp and became engulfed by the night’s blackness - the blackness of the alleyway, surrounded by brick buildings that disappeared beyond the stretching point of his neck. Surrounded by the city of Milwaukee.

He only knew he had to breath once again.

The sheriff’s voice interrupted Andy’s thoughts. “What do you want to do?”

“Guess I’ll tag along with you.” He grabbed his duffel bag and threw it in the back of the patrol car, sliding in next to it. The sheriff slowly pulled away from the side of the highway. Andy glanced back at his stranded vehicle and watched it diminish over the horizon.

He was in Minnesota, but didn’t remember crossing over the border.

Minnesota. It seemed like there was something about Minnesota he should’ve remembered. Something his mother once told him.

Was it some relative who lived here? Seemed to ring a bell. An aunt, wasn’t it? Aunt Mae?

“Mom, who was Mae?”

“Mae?”

“Was she your friend?”

Andy, twelve years old, had been looking through a junk drawer for some rubber bands and had come across a picture of his mother as a teenager, hugging a younger girl. Actually, it looked as if the younger girl was being asphyxiated by the tremendous bear hug his mom was giving her. Under the picture, it said, “EDNA and MAE.” Edna was his mother’s name.

“No, she wasn’t a friend.” Edna flicked dish suds off her hands and grabbed a towel.

“Was she your sister? How come you never mentioned her before?”

“She’s someone I’d rather forget about.”

“So she’s your sister?”

“She wasn’t much of a sister.” Edna paused, looking into the deep blue sea of Andy’s eyes. “Look - as far as I know, she was dead and buried a long time ago.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t want to talk about this, okay?”

“But she’s your sister,” Andy said. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where is this place?” he asked, holding up the picture.

Edna’s eyes glazed over. “Ellingston.” She spoke in a monotone. "Ellingston, Minnesota, where I - ” She paused.

“Where you what?”

She snatched the picture out of Andy’s hand and tore it in half. “Where I grew up,” she said.

Andy was curious.

“Are we very far from Ellingston?”

“About twenty miles. Why?” The sheriff glanced back at Andy for a moment, and then turned his eyes back to the road.

“I think I have an aunt who lives there.”

This time the deputy turned around, speaking for the first time. “I’m from Ellingston. What’s her name?”

Andy tried to remember his mother’s maiden name. “Stone? Mae Stone? That’s what it used to be, anyway.”

The deputy laughed. “Sounds like you really keep in close touch with your relatives.”

Andy’s face reddened. “Have you heard of any Stones there?”

“Yeah, sure. I know who Mae Stone is. She’s your aunt, huh?”

Andy couldn’t believe it. He leaned forward. Nodded. “Yes, she is.”

The deputy turned to the sheriff. “You remember Miss Stone, don’t you? She’s the one who had that fire a while back.”

The sheriff nodded. “Not much of a fire, though. Appears some kids broke into her basement and lit her cat on fire.”

“Her cat? Was anyone hurt?” Andy asked.

“Oh, no.” The sheriff’s mouth turned up into a crooked smile. “She apparently smelled the cat’s fur burning right away. She called the fire department, but before they got there, she already had the fire out. She didn’t keep much in her basement, although there was a two-gallon container of gas down there. That cat would’ve been wallpaper if he’d gotten anywhere close to the thing. But I’ll say this; that poor cat is gonna be awfully cold this winter with his fur all burned up like that.”

Andy imagined the cat, running around in a near empty basement, its fur throwing bright orange flame into the darkness.

“We’ll take you to Ellingston if you want.”

Did he really want to meet his aunt that bad? Did she even know he existed? But his car was in no condition to drive, that was for certain, and the garages wouldn’t be open until tomorrow. He couldn’t think of anyplace else to go. He didn’t have enough money for both a motel and a windshield.

Maybe she’ll be grateful to see me, he thought. Being able to catch up on her sister. Besides, it might be kind of fun, meeting a relative he'd never known.

Andy nodded. “Let’s go.”

TWO

It was dark when they arrived. Their first stop was at the pay phone outside of Al’s Gas and Grocery. A carload of teenagers wearing Ellingston Eagles letter jackets looked them over and turned their car’s stereo down when the patrol car pulled up to the phone. The sheriff walked over to them for a chat, while the deputy looked up Mae Stone’s number.

It was a small town. Quiet for the most part. No traffic lights. Andy could see where the business district ended, the glow of the street lamps reaching only a few blocks in each direction. Most of the residential area was behind the row of buildings across the street; a bank, a V.F.W., a couple bars, a Ben Franklins’. A white banner fluttering above the gas station announced that Johnny Appleseed Days started next week.

The deputy gave Andy a dime. Punched the numbers in for him. When Andy heard the phone ring on the other end, his mouth went dry. What was he going to say?

He heard the carload of teenagers pull away. Watched the sheriff walk back to the patrol car. Saw the clerk inside Al’s stare at him over the glossy pages of a magazine. He smelled fresh gas and felt a bond of sweat form between his hand and the phone. He couldn’t think. What was the point of this? He didn’t know this person. This was ridiculous.

Someone picked up the phone.

“Hello?” It was a female’s voice.

“Is this Mae Stone?”

“Yes?”

His mind went blank. He felt the deputy grinning at him only a few feet away. “Hi.” He cleared his throat. Stared at the phone’s coin slot, wishing he could squeeze into it and disappear. “My name is Andrew Byrd, and my mother’s name is Edna Byrd. I believe she’s your sister.”

“Yes?” she replied.

He gripped the phone with both hands, his lips pressing lightly into the mouthpiece. “I was in the area and I got into an accident. A deer smashed up my car pretty good.” He took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you could put me up for the night.”

“Edna?” Mae whispered. “You’re Edna’s son?”

“Look, if you’d rather not, I understand.”

“My God,” Mae said.

The deputy took the phone from Andy and nodded into it, saying, “Yes, it’s all true. Yes. Yep. Are you sure? We’d check first thing in the morning. About eight o’clock?” He gave the phone back to Andy.

“So you’re Edna’s boy,” Mae said, sounding more composed.

Her voice sounded younger than Andy expected. In the short ride in the patrol car, he’d formed an image of Mae as an elderly spinster, but hearing her voice for the first time shot that all to hell. Andy’s mother was fifty-three, so that would make Mae fifty-one? Hardly an old spinster, now that he thought about it.

He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Mae spoke up again. “I suppose it’s all right if you spend the night. There’s plenty of room. And I’d like to hear about Edna. Could I talk to Mr. Jacobson again?”

Andy held out the phone. “She wants to talk to Mr. Jacobson.”

The deputy took it. “I’m here.” He paused and nodded into the phone, saying yes and uh huh and sure, then saying, “Eight o’clock, okay?” He hung up the phone and turned to Andy. “Looks like you’re in luck.”

They drove past the reach of the streetlights where Main Street transformed into a two-lane highway. About a mile out of town they turned right into a long, gravel driveway. At the end was a large house. A window on the second floor lit up from inside. The patrol car’s headlights converged on the front door.

“This is it,” the deputy said.

When Mae Stone emerged, she was momentarily blinded by the brightness. She squinted, shielded her eyes with the back of her forearm, peering out from beneath, anxious to get a good look at Andrew Byrd. She saw his silhouette turn towards the brightness, giving the headlights a wave of the hand, signaling the patrol car to leave.

The car stood still, its engine running. It gave a honk on the horn. A voice cut through the harsh lights. “Will you be all right, Ms. Stone?” It was the sheriff. She waved, closing her eyes against the glare.

Finally, the patrol car turned away and left Mae and Andy in the dark. They watched the tail lights dissipate into the night, leaving an illusory red streak floating in the air.

With a CLICK, Mae illuminated the front steps with a floodlight, which hung above the door.

“Andy,” she said, barely audible, as if tasting the name. “Andy,” she said again, her eyes darting over him. “Nice to meet you.” She held out her hand.