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CHAPTER SEVEN
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Blackwater Val CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER EIGHT1IT WAS THE SMALL, black hours and the streets of the Val lay deserted, except for a stray traveler or two: Lucy Dixon on her way home, coming off the late-night nurse’s shift and zipping along now while visions of her pillow-top mattress danced in her head. Phil Jenrette, the local high school football coach, cruising toward the old freight yards across town, while his wife and children slept, in search of a prostitute by the railroad tracks—and either a young girl or young boy would do at this bleak hour, since Mr. Jenrette wasn’t too choosy in that way. And the kid whose name nobody could ever remember, heading out in his broken-down cargo van, choking and stalling and sputtering all over the sleeping village to deliver his morning edition stacks of The Rock River Guardian safely to their drop-off destinations.Each of them drove past the permanently darkened Lawrie Theater at some point or other on their witching-hour excursions, and yet none of them looked up. No
Last Updated : 2021-09-06Blackwater Val CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER NINE1THE GREASE-YELLOWED WALL clock above the griddle read 11:20 AM when Officers Clemency and Crider walked into the café for their order. Meg Bilobran saw them enter and retrieved their sandwiches from behind the counter, a Reuben and a turkey club on sourdough, and then met them at the cash register. With a weary smile, she handed the paper bag to the uniformed black man, the deputy chief.“Here ya go, fellas, all ready. How are things, Palm?”“Oh, same old same old. Can’t complain. Mm-hmm. You look tired, Meg.”“Morris, my cook, and Jilly Sweet both called off, so I’m runnin’ the gauntlet by myself today. Running being the key word. Nothing sweet about it, either. Ha. So how are you, Bobby? How’s that pregnant wife of yours holdin’ up?”The younger and newer of the two officers grinned. “She’s holding fine, Mrs. Bilobran. We’re just waiting and hanging on.”“How many times I told you, babes? Call me Meg. Anything else for ya?”Palm Clemency ordered a couple of lar
Last Updated : 2021-09-06Blackwater Val CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER TEN1IT REALLY WAS funny, Alice thought as she sat listening to Mrs. Van Meers’s resonant Corinthian bells chiming in the light wind. Priceless. The look on Syd’s face last night, that dripping look of shock and bewilderment.Funny, how things turned out.In truth, Alice Granberg wasn’t actually a homosexual. She’d only gone along with things, certain things, for as long as it was convenient. After all, she’d had no place to stay, no one to turn to. Sydney had taken her in after Alice’s shithead excuse for a boyfriend had found someone new and kicked her without ceremony to the curb. But Syd Cholke had gotten something out of the deal, too. You better believe it. For as long as it was convenient . . . nothing more.No, Alice preferred to think of herself as an ‘Anne Heche style’ lesbian. Alice suspected there were probably a lot of girls out there like Miss Heche and herself, young ladies who for whatever reason—be it getting burned by abusive shithead boyfriends, or be i
Last Updated : 2021-09-06Blackwater Val CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN1DEPUTY CHIEF CLEMENCY and Bobby Crider ate their lunches on the bench in front of the Public Safety Building. Crider took a bite of turkey club, watching as someone mowed the Post Office’s narrow strip of lawn across Elm Street, mulching leaves as they went. A squad car glided to the curb, blocking his view, and Chief Priewe got out.“How we doing, boys?”“Chief,” said Clemency. The younger officer could only nod, his mouth filled with sourdough bread. “You aren’t eating? Meg’s being generous today: my Reuben really got loaded up on the corned beef and Swiss here.”“I’ll grab something later. Listen, I want—”Priewe stepped back from the sidewalk, just missing Karl Kissick as he sailed by on a skateboard, student book bag slung over him like a full parachute pack, clicking away heedlessly at his Game Boy. The kid glanced up for a second before returning his attention to the handheld game as he rolled past.“Hey, stay off the walks!” Priewe barked. “Goddamn kid.
Last Updated : 2021-09-06Blackwater Val CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER TWELVE1TOMMY TRUITT’S RAMSHACKLE little house had no front porch steps. They had disintegrated into nothingness over the years. This is what Richard noticed first about the place, and the way the whole structure leaned. Just a pinch to one side.“Didn’t know I’d be renting a lean-to,” joked Tom as he showed him around, “when I read the ad in the paper. Woops . . . renting with option to buy, make that.” Truitt hopped up onto the porch with the ease of someone who’d done it countless times, offering a hand back to Richard and helping hoist him up over the space where the stairs should have been. “I’ll get to that one of these days.”Richard nodded. His friend lived alone out here, so the house was sparsely furnished: an opened sofa bed in the living room surrounded by various used, thrift-store items, obligatory big-screen TV on a stand against the wall, some rickety chairs circling an old cottage drop-leaf table in the kitchen.A tattered color photograph of Kyoko was at
Last Updated : 2021-09-06Blackwater Val CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER THIRTEEN1JULIAN EXCUSED HIMSELF and was at last able to slip away inside his church. He needed solitude, just a brief respite from their tedium and banalities before the commencement at hand: the setting in motion of it all—faith against doubt, and everything that would follow. Besides, William Salt would occupy them, keep them assuaged with food and drink until he returned.He made his way slowly, achingly, feeling the corrosions of his own body, the shrinking of his bones. Each day he applied the pepperwort and menthol for their deep heating attributes, but they did little good. This vessel was at its end, was breaking down and deteriorating with every step he took—twice already had the heart stopped beating, once upon the operating table during a routine knee replacement procedure and once while shoveling snow from the front walkway of Nain Trinity Lutheran. Twice he had waited patiently, hidden within, prepared to abscond and move on to another if necessary, and twice
Last Updated : 2021-09-06Blackwater Val CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN1“ROBERT PLANT,” began Richard, tilting his Michelob. His friend leaned, clinking his bottle to Franklin’s. “Planty,” Tom Truitt said and they took respective drinks.Katie was fine. When he called the house, George had put her on and she was doing fine. She told him of her day so far, how Granna had fixed her hair, doing it up with clips and a polka-dot bow, and of the games they’d played and the cartoons they had watched. She told of the food they were having: the grilled chicken George was fixing, and macaroni salad, and the tray of assorted vegetables and dip.A menu devised by Glee, no doubt.He talked a bit longer with her—at one point she held the receiver to Blondie’s ear so he could say hello to her, too—and, once Richard’s mind had been put at ease, he told Katie he’d be there soon. By the time he had hung up, sliding the cell phone back into his pocket, Tommy was outside again with two more Michs. Richard mentioned catching that string of Zeppelin trac
Last Updated : 2021-09-06Blackwater Val “THEY POISON THE HEART”
“THEY POISON THE HEART”by Michelle Brooke Deadmond(an excerpt)Those that bled out and died quickly were among the lucky, they who never knew what hit them. All up and down the Mississippi near the mouth of Bad Axe River their frantic drums sounded. No one came, though, no allies rose to the call—promises of British assistance were not kept. Even when a second white flag of surrender was hoisted in desperation, the slaughter continued unabated, insatiably. Thus had begun the~~ Fugue ~~History tells us there were numerous other skirmishes leading up to this, before the end came for them at the Battle of Bad Axe that summer. In May of 1832, appointed war chief Black Hawk and his dwindling band of followers scored a surprise victory over drunken, attacking, and then abruptly fleeing soldiers at Old Man’s Creek, in what would shamefully come to be known later as Stillman’s Run.This spark ignited the fire, and the Black Hawk War was on.It’s said that a green, 23-year-old captai
Last Updated : 2021-09-06
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Blackwater Val EPILOGUE
EPILOGUETHE COLD HANGS on, and on. Sinks in deeper. Lost within it, forsaken, the duped and the defiled wander the streets of the Val in a haze. Wondering what’s happened.One of them, Syd Cholke, enters her Regan Street apartment and drops onto the sofa. Slumps alone in the dark. Much later she hears the front door open and close, hears footsteps enter sheepishly. Then delicate, auburn-haired Alice Granberg sits down. No words are spoken between them. After a time Sydney goes to her and kneels and places her ear against the small hill of Alice’s belly, feels the baby roll lazily there. Soon both are dozing in this position, an empty birdcage on the end table nearby.Mrs. Wintermute shrieks inside her narrow prison below ground, breath hitching in and out. She begs and she wails . . . screaming, screaming . . . and eventually becomes quiet at long last. Meg Bilobran sits propped in her theater balcony seat, draped in sheet plastic, eyes flung wide and staring, as if waiting for the
Blackwater Val CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT1“YOU NEED TO say goodbye,” Katie said, and Richard pulled off the road. Cornfields surrounded them on both sides here at the outskirts of town. The first snow of the season was melting, drifts of white caught between the rows.Reports were breaking over the radio about the previous night’s horrors. A spate of deaths in and around Blackwater Valley, and missing townspeople. Structures burnt to the ground. Palm Clemency had had a lot of questions, but Richard never faltered.Now it was time to leave.After they’d showered and eaten a little, recovered somewhat, Richard had gone to the Deadmond place first thing, found the door unlocked. Found George under the drop cloth in the basement where he and Tom had left him.Moving fast, Richard gathered up Blondie’s things: some toys, bowls, her memory-foam bed, loose cans of pet food and a large bag of dry nuggets, pills prescribed by the veterinarian for her arthritis pain—although he suspected she wouldn’t be need
Blackwater Val CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN1SALT BRACED HIMSELF, centered his weight, and began to clamber to his feet. Slowly. First one, then the other. He looked toward the treeline as he did, saw the front end of the Chevy Blazer glinting there like silvery, lupine fangs, its chrome-plated steel grille guard catching light. A shudder wrenched through him. Still he rose, forcing himself erect, the war ax in his left hand.The others were drawing closer.Glee snatched at Katie fearfully, nestled her to her side. Croom glared into their faces. He bent, retrieved something near Dr. Mint’s fingers: the hypodermic syringe. He held it before him, flicked the plastic tube like he was testing it. “Gyaa . . . ?” his disfigured mouth emitted, a bad-natured grin forming. He thumbed the needle’s plunger, had placed one foot on the shovel handle. They wavered in uncertainty.Julian had gone quiet, head back, maimed arms and legs dangling as he levitated higher. Eyeballs rolled to white. He appeared to be in a t
Blackwater Val CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX1THEY SWUNG TO witness Chip Priewe’s demented features, to see him pointing with the pistol and backing away. Soon everyone was looking, gazes upturned. The high wind which buffeted the trees and tore across the shadowed ground had caught Michelle’s cremains up, and up, keeping them aloft. Lifting and throwing them around with leaves and other bits of debris. Denying them respite—Out of this blizzard of swirled grit and ash, uncannily, shapes were forming.“The trees!” Priewe screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. His lunatic eyes shone moon-bright. “Oh, Christ. Hanging . . . in the trees. Can’t you fucking see them?”They did: apparitions in the night-dark limbs of the cottonwood. Something glimmering in the sleety rain. Thunder crashed and everyone jumped, lightning skittering throughout the clouds. The police chief howled.Shadows were coming to life in the tree branches, undulating with an inner light. Changing particle and position, reconfiguring. But
Blackwater Val CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE1THEY PARKED IN the cover of the trees and made their way across Jasper Park, out over its baseball diamond, through the foreboding shadows on the other side. There was scant light here, a few lampposts lining the bike path, some safety lights on at the red-brick shelters. Dark of the new moon, no illumination visible through the cloud cover in the sky, no pulse of stars.On edge, Tommy and Richard milled about. The wooden bat hovered in Franklin’s two-handed grip.Tree frogs were croaking in the river birches overhanging the water—the exfoliating bark on the trees looked like peeling skin at this distance. Besides frogs, a chorus of crickets could be heard chirring in the dewy grass, their evensong waning, getting weaker with the cold. That sound alone was heartbreaking to Richard, signified the inescapable death of summer, an oncoming winter.Tommy noticed the way his friend throttled the bat, the way he stared to the left, the right.“Come on,” Rich murmur
Blackwater Val “THEY POISON THE HEART”
“THEY POISON THE HEART”by Michelle Brooke Deadmond(an excerpt)Soon they tracked the hunted Sauk warrior northward to Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin, where finally he surrendered and was taken prisoner at Fort Crawford, thus becoming government property and a ‘trophy’ of war to be put on display.Exhausted, and sick at heart, the 65-year-old Indian chief spoke in chains at the Prairie du Chien fort, standing shackled upon the original ceded lands of his great Sauk ancestors, his long resistance at an end now. The speech he gave that day told of lies and betrayal, of the deliberate, systematic extermination of his people. It would become Black Sparrow Hawk’s~~ Coda ~~“I fought hard,” he professed before his captors. “But your guns were well aimed. The bullets flew like birds in the air . . . my warriors fell around me.” His discourse shifted to admonishment. “You know the cause of our making war. It is known to all white men. They ought to be ashamed of it.” He went on to tell of
Blackwater Val CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR1LISTEN, MY PRETTY-WITTY. Listen to me now.Katie heard the voice enter her head, plain as day. Felt it reaching from far off to connect with her mind somehow. She stiffened involuntarily, her arms tightening around the cremation urn. Was this a trick?Your father will find you, it continued, invading her thoughts, but first you must trust me and listen, eh? Close your eyes, cover them so that you cannot see. They are coming. And your father will find you.There was a brief pause, a scanning of her trepidations. Who is this? the young girl wondered, eyes shifting.Your mother paid a kindness to me once. I am repaying it to you. Do what I say, and do not look. No matter what you hear, what you feel, do not look. Do not see . . .I’m afraid, thought Katie, and the voice reached into her head in response.Do not be afraid. You have your mother’s gift. Let it flow through you. Take hold of it, child. The power lies within you . . . it is yours. It always has be
Blackwater Val CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE1“SAY YOUR NAME for me,” the old woman said. “Speak it now.”Hesitation: “Richard Franklin.”She repeated his words, pronouncing them slowly—“Richard” came out as Ricard.“Now say mine.” Her tongue darted over shriveled lips that were barely there. “Say it.”A small red fox with half its tail gone was circling around his shins, he’d noticed, brushing against them. “Witch Beulah. But I’m not sure . . . ” Richard swallowed. “Beulah the Witch.”The puckered mouth curved. “Why have you come this night? What would your pleasure be, eh? And why should I help you?”“His little girl—” Truitt began.“Let him speak it himself, Thomas.” Her eyes glinted obsidian-black in the firelight. “Well?”Richard spoke, going over it all again, telling her about Katie and raking fingers through his hair, telling her that he had nowhere else to go. She listened, allowing him to finish before beckoning them both.They followed her through the dark, followed the swish of her ski
Blackwater Val CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO1THERE ARE PARTS of Illinois known for their inspiration, places of important historical significance and remarkable beauty. Places to give one pause, just knowing they could exist in a flat, windswept floodplain state such as this. On the flipside of that coin, the dark side of it, there are also areas of desolation and blight-ridden anguish. Stark places where menace walked, natural and unnatural, where even nightbirds chose to hide and take to roost rather than sing their evening songs.The Island was of the latter.Angell Island was named after Clarissa St. Angell, first woman from the township of Blackwater Valley ever to graduate college and actually earn a degree. She had been born into poverty out on the remote island in the year 1860, and the poverty of the place had only increased since then. Along with the decay and disrepair.A hodgepodge of shabby little houses and trailers, the 33-acre tract of land sat floating off shore in swampy muck out on the
