Shallow Grave-J Collins 3 (43 page)

She laughed. And kicked me in the ass.

All the breath left my body. I prepared for the next blow, forearms blocking my face, familiar with the drill.

I’d been in this position plenty of times with my father.

If I laid there motionless for long enough, not fi ghting, not crying, not responding, he’d go away.

Would she go away?

Not until I was dead.

Th

e taste of blood fi lled my mouth. I couldn’t swallow. I couldn’t spit. I opened my lips and let the saliva and blood run out onto the wooden slats before I choked on it.

With my eyes squeezed shut, I was that helpless fi fteen-year-old girl. Waiting for the next punch to land.

Stand up. Don’t let her win.

I stopped breathing entirely.
Ben?

No answer.

Fuck. Now I had hallucinations in addition to the 502

excruciating bag of pain my body had become.

Stand up. Get away. Live to fi ght another day.

Th

at
was
Ben’s voice. He’d preached to me that I couldn’t win the fi ghts with my dad; I just had to survive them. Did hearing Ben’s voice mean I was close to dying?

No.

Ben?

Get away.

I heard Leticia’s footsteps circle around behind me.

Would she kick me again? I tightened up my stomach muscles and fl exed the fi ngers on my right hand.

Leticia bent close enough I felt her sour breath on my cheek. “You should’ve jumped when you had the chance.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the edge of her long coat. I grabbed it, jerking with every ounce of strength I had. She wobbled. I swung my legs around and knocked her feet out from underneath her. She landed fl at on her back. My action caught her by surprise.

But not as much as the fi st I plowed into her ugly face.

Blood spurted; she shrieked and let go of my gun. I rolled to my right side and wobbled to my feet.

Whoa. Head rush. Speckles of light and dark spots wavered in front of my eyes.

She grunted and scrambled for my gun. I reached it a split second before she did.

Leticia’s gun was in her right hand. I didn’t stick 503

around to see if her aim was still good. I dove for the stairs and caught my ribs on the bottom tread. I didn’t manage to keep my left shoulder from striking the ground, but I bit my tongue hard to stop the scream from escaping.

Get away.

Th

oughts of vengeance vanished. My adrenal system kicked into overdrive as survival became paramount.

Leticia would kill me. Guaranteed. I struggled to my feet and hit the ground running.

Two gunshots echoed somewhere to my left. Shit.

My red coat was a bull’s-eye. I couldn’t move my left arm to hold onto the sleeve while I removed my right arm. I jammed the Browning in my back jeans pocket and shrugged my shoulders up and down as I ran like a drunken sailor.

I clamped my teeth together and crossed my right arm over the center of my body. Jesus fucking Christ that hurt. My frigid fi ngers caught the sleeve and somehow gripped the cuff as I jerked. In one quick painful movement my arms were free. I rolled the coat up in a ball and chucked it into the ravine.

I kept running.

Blood dripped in my eye. I stumbled on the fl at rocks and almost took a header over the edge of the embankment. A cool mist pressed down. Not fog, just a gauzy veil that made this surreal situation even more so.

504

Footsteps pounded behind me. Or was that the thud-ding of my own heart? Didn’t matter. I didn’t have the luxury of stopping to see if Leticia was close.

I stumbled through the rock cut where the path angled upward, sending me over the hump between the two sides of the butte, which separated the back from the front.

Every footstep jarred my shoulder, a hot poker jabbing my fl esh. My scalp stung. My jaw throbbed. I swiped blood from my eyebrow before it dripped into my eye.

Th

e descent would take less than half the time than the ascent. Th

e path smoothed to hard-packed dirt. I

rounded an enormous pine tree dripping with prayer ties.

Below the exposed root structure was another narrow, steep path, which disappeared between two big white boulders. Probably led directly to the private Indian campground area with the fi repits and the tipi skeletons.

Or maybe it didn’t.

Did I chance it? Head into the unknown? Find a safe hiding spot until nightfall?

No. Stay the path.

I shivered. Why was Ben in my head now? Was it my subconscious’ last-ditch eff ort to retain my mental acuity by grasping onto the one thing guaranteed to get my attention: my dead brother?

505

Leticia knew the layout of Bear Butte much better than I did. Which meant even if I turned around, gun drawn, and faced her down like an Old West gunslinger, she still had the upper hand.

But if I made it to the bottom fi rst, I had a chance.

Th

at thought spurred me on and I increased my pace, only to trip in a sinkhole and go fl ying ass over tea-kettle past sagebrush bushes.

My injured shoulder slammed into a rock. Another sickening rush of wetness coated my skin beneath my shirt, while I got a face full of yucca. Two razor sharp spikes pierced my neck; another one grazed my cheek below my eye. I hit with such force the gun jiggled in my back pocket.

I wanted to lie there, catch my breath and formulate a plan. Pretend I was a chameleon and Leticia would zoom past me as I became one with the landscape. My eyes started to drift shut.

Stand up. Get away.

Shut up, Ben.

His laugh inside my head vibrated down my spine and brought a fresh rush of tears.

Why are you here now?

Because you need me now.

But I’ve needed you for years.

No. You’ve always been strong enough on your own.

506

Don’t let her win again,
tanksi
. Stand up. Quickly
I didn’t argue with the phantom voice. I slid on my butt until my feet were on a fairly fl at spot, rolled on my right side and crouched. I scrambled up the embankment like a three-legged dog and was stumbling on the trail, running for my life.

My lungs burned. My legs were half-cooked noodles.

My face had gone numb. I wished my arm would. Sweat soaked my back, my head, my chest. Hell, even my ear-lobes were sweating from pure fear. Blood dripped down the side of my body. I wasn’t cold without my coat, but once I stopped I knew I’d be frozen to the bone.

If I lived that long.

Th

e low level of light signaled dusk’s fast approach.

I identifi ed the roof of the visitors’ center through the skeletal trees. Nearly at the bottom. Tears of pain, frustration, and relief clouded my vision.

I added a burst of speed, vaulting over the last jog in the path. I couldn’t aff ord to take the long way and follow the road. Leticia would assume I’d travel the road.

A shudder broke free and I knew she and I weren’t fi nished. I removed my gun from my back pocket.

As quietly as possible I cut through the underbrush by the bridge. Part of me wanted to wait until full dark to creep along the bank. Part of me wanted to play troll and hide under the bridge forever.

507

I hunkered down, dodging a low-hanging elm branch, which snapped back and smacked my shoulder. A cry of pain escaped, extraordinarily loud in the ghostly stillness.

Lavender light deepened into prunish-black as darkness fell. I humped along the left side of the bank, scanning the trees for sign of Leticia. Numbness settled in my shoulder. Th

e fi ngers gripping the gun were so

cold I didn’t know if I was physically capable of pulling the trigger any more.

Chills racked my body as I began to measure the distance in inches. Nothing seemed familiar. Would I even recognize the break in the treeline that led to where I’d parked my truck?

Resting my gun on my thigh, I stopped to take a breath. When I straightened up Leticia stood downstream about 20 yards.

How the fuck had she gotten here so fast?

Leticia adjusted her stance and I saw it: Ben’s necklace. Wrapped around her wrist. Th

e bones practically

glowed in the near darkness.

Th

e necklace wasn’t a good luck talisman; it was a harbinger of death. Th

e old man’s. Ben’s.

And now, Leticia’s.

I raised my gun and fi red. Th

e shot went wide and

skimmed the side of her head. Th

e kickback nearly threw

me on my ass I was so weak.

508

She stumbled, then righted herself. “Th

is is better

than I’d planned. Now I have a bullet wound to prove self-defense when they fi nd you shot to death. It’ll be a sad thing. Poor Julie Collins fi nally tipped over the edge of insanity over her sainted brother Ben.”

I willed my wavering hand to steady; it fl opped to my side like a dead trout.

“I wish I could scalp that blond hair.”

Jesus.
Shut up and fucking fall down already
. She kept coming at me with a sneer on her face like some goddamn B-grade horror movie zombie.

I thought,
why isn’t she fi ring at me?
and then she did.

Pop.
Th

e bullet tore into my thigh. My knees buckled.

What little blood remaining in my head drained, making me dizzy. I wanted to stay down. I had no fi ght left in me.

Don’t let her win.

Leticia picked up her pace. “Th

ere’ll be no prayer

bundles or ties for you. No—”

I gritted my teeth and straight-armed my gun, aiming for the black hole where her heart should have been and squeezed off two shots.

She landed fl at on her back amidst the dust and mud of the rocky creekbed.

Resting on my knees in a puddle of water, I wheezed like a kicked dog, bled like a stuck pig, and whimpered 509

like a trapped wolf from the injuries riddling my body.

Before I gave into the pain I had to make sure she was down for good. I swayed to my feet and had taken two shuffl

ing steps when Leticia sat up.

On automatic, I emptied the rest of the clip into her neck.

Th

e buzzing in my ears from the gunfi re overpowered the silence.

Leticia would never get up and come at me again.

I spit blood. I’d faced her with a ruthlessness only surpassed by what I’d witnessed in her eyes.

I waited.

For what?

An easing of my sorrow?

An awareness of justice?

A sense of absolution?

For
Mato Paha
to forgive me or punish me further for spilling blood on sacred ground?

Nothing changed.

Th

ere’d be no vindication for me. No moment of clarity. Leticia Standing Elk was dead by my hand. I’d avenged my brother’s murder. I should be whooping a war dance around her dead body. I should watch to see if her soul was as black in death as it’d been in life.

I did none of that.

Instead I bent over her body and snatched Ben’s 510

necklace. It seemed fi tting to have the necklace in my hand when I died.

Crying in relief, I stumbled backward until I fell down.

511

Tanksi
.

Go away. I’m tired.

Listen to me.

You’re not real.

I’m here, aren’t I?

No. You’re an illusion. I’m cold. And I hurt. I’m
dying.

Or am I already dead? Is that why I can hear you, Ben?

You can hear me because you never forgot me.

I never will.

So don’t give up on me now.

Too late. I’m so tired. Will it hurt when I die?

You are not dying, Julie.

I want to die.

No, you need to live.

Why?

512

You have more to give.

I’m tired of giving. It hurts too much.

It will stop soon. Th

e time has come for you to fi ll the

void I left in your life.

I don’t want to fi ll it. It reminds me of you.

Instead of letting it hurt you, use it to heal yourself. Use
it to tell her about me. Let her fi ll it.

Who?

Mitanksi
. Your
tanka
.

My
tanka
? Brittney?

Be to her what I was to you. She needs you.

But I need you.

No, you need to let me go.

Silence.

Ben? Are you there?

I’m going now.

NO!

Be at peace,
tanksi
, my little sister, be at peace.

I let the darkness and pain overtake me completely and let go.

513

The caller ID on Kevin’s cell phone read:
PRIVATE

number
. He’d been avoiding phone calls all day, but answered it anyway. “Yeah?”

Martinez said: “About time you answered the goddamn phone. Have you seen Julie?”

“No, why?”

“Because she’s missing.”

“You’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t be calling you if I wasn’t sure.”

Th

at explained the restless feeling Kevin hadn’t been able to shake all day. He looked at his watch. 6:00.

“What makes you think she hasn’t gone off to shoot her bow? 0r to get drunk?”

“Because this just feels . . . wrong.”

“Gotta give me something more, Martinez.”

514

“Fine. I came to her house around 5:00 because I’d been trying to get a hold of her for four goddamn hours. We were supposed to go out of town this afternoon. While I was here, Abita called to check on her.

Evidently they’d met at Canyon Lake Park and Julie had gotten sick. Abita tried her on her cell phone and got no answer. Th

en she called the house phone to make sure