The reformatory, p.53
The Reformatory, page 53
“Did you, now?” Haddock said, taking only one slow step forward despite the bloodhound’s frantic pulling. “Then you must be real proud of yourself. Where’s my envelope?”
“Does he know what’s in it?” Robbie said, pointing to the Negro man.
“I don’t share my private belongings with just anyone,” Haddock said. One more step, until the water reached above both ankles. “I think you know that, Robert. Why would I tell everyone my business? I only told you because you’re special. Boone was right about you.”
“He’s a killer!” Robert shouted to the Negro man behind Haddock. “He killed his baby sister! He takes photos of all the kids he’s hurt. That’s what he wants, so I won’t show them!”
Haddock looked back at the Negro man as if they were sharing a joke. But even at a distance through the spindly plants, Gloria could see the sober concern in the Negro man’s face.
“Quite an imagination you’ve got there,” Haddock said, grinning back at Robbie.
“Robert,” the Negro man said, pleading. “Don’t talk back! Don’t put up a fight. Just give the superintendent what he’s looking for. Settle the rest later.”
Gloria knew his voice: it was Mrs. Hamilton’s brother, the one named Percy who had come to her house! Gloria longed to call out to him. He had a gun too, and if she could think of the right words, she could pull him to her side, the two of them against Haddock. Papa had helped their family! Gloria’s lungs heaved as she tried to decide if it was smarter to act—or to wait for a more perfect moment. If Robbie had stolen something Haddock wanted badly enough, he might not kill Robbie until he had it back. Robbie must have hidden the envelope he’d taken; his hands were empty.
“You hear that, Robert? Mister Crutcher here is talking good sense.” One more step, then two. Haddock was striding into the creek, less than twenty-five feet from Robbie. The dog was within fifteen feet of Robbie at the edge of his leash, trying to swim toward him since he could no longer run. The dog whined, frustrated, almost like he wanted to play. Robbie took a small step away from the dog, his first sign of fear. The water rippled gently around him, the wavy circles reaching the dog and then Haddock, enfolding them all.
“He set the fire in 1920!” Robert yelled to Crutcher. “He’s got photos of all the—” Gloria’s intuition showed her what would happen seconds before life imitated her vision, so she was suppressing a cry before Haddock turned to Crutcher with his gun raised and an explosion ripped through the woods. Crutcher grabbed at his chest with a muffled yell, more of surprise than pain, before he dropped his rifle and curled to the ground on the creek’s bank. He didn’t stir an inch. The distant barking grew frantic. Haddock’s dog yelped, startled, wading in a confused circle back toward Haddock.
“Now you see what you’ve gone and made me do?” Haddock said, voice still languid as he turned back to Robbie.
Robbie was the only one who screamed.
* * *
The worst of the worst of the worst, Blue had said about Haddock, but that hadn’t prepared Robert for the rose bloom of blood on Crutcher’s white shirt after Haddock had shot him. Mrs. Hamilton had lost her husband and now her brother too, and it was Blue’s fault. If he hadn’t listened to Blue, he might be at the railroad trestle by now instead of only feet away from Haddock and his gun that stank of killing. Every path he took with Blue meant walking past someone else’s dying.
Robert hated for Haddock to see tears in his eyes, but he couldn’t hold them back. “You’ve got a big mouth, Robert. This is what happens when you say things you shouldn’t,” Haddock said. He almost sounded sad about it. “That’s a good worker lying dead on the ground because you talk too much. That social worker from the state said you got done wrong by the judge, and I’ll confess he had me wondering about it my own self. But it turns out you’re a thief after all, like the rest of these dumb monkeys and swamp trash. And a liar. We had a deal, Robert. We toasted it, and anyone knows a toast is as good as a handshake. I’d say even better. Don’t you remember our deal? You’d catch the haints; I’d let you go.”
Robert sobbed. He still hated himself for toasting with Haddock and agreeing to be his haint catcher to help Haddock cover the wrong he had done.
Haddock went on: “But that isn’t what you did, is it? You and your slick-mouthed friend Redbone made it into a game—”
“Shut up!”
“You had to know I wasn’t going to let that pass,” Haddock said. “You had to know you would pay the piper. So tell me where you put my photo collection and I’ll let you die quick. If you don’t tell me… when those dog boys find us—and you can hear ’em on their way—those leashes are gonna slip loose. Whoops! Have you ever seen somebody who got chewed up by a dog? Not a bite: I mean chewed down to the bone. I do believe Scout’s palate has developed a taste for stupid boys. You’re gonna taste real good to Scout, Robert. There’s no good way to die except maybe in your sleep, but no one since the beginning of time wants to get eaten alive.”
“I’m not scared of you,” Robbie said. After the Reformatory, he doubted he could ever be scared of a new thing again.
“Really?” Haddock said, wading another foot closer. “I think you ought to be, and you know why? You’re plenty smart, I’ll give you that. But you’re not as clever as you think you are. You made a mistake with that Vaseline: it didn’t hold off Colonel here at all.” At the sound of his name, the dog whined and wriggled against his leash, trying to reach Robert again. “You made a mistake with the creek—because here we are: you, me, and Colonel. And you got yourself good and wet, so I can see straight through your shirt. It’s all black skin except for one square spot right across your belly. So I’m gonna guess that’s where you hid my envelope. I’m fairly certain I can see the edges poking against that thin cotton. Ain’t that right?”
Robert didn’t answer, but Haddock had spotted the envelope he’d hidden: Blue had advised him to toss away the satchel and hide the envelope from sight to buy him time, since Haddock had a sickness and would not be satisfied until his photographs were in his hands again.
Be sure to get him in the water, Blue had said.
“You sure about that?” Robert said. “Then come and see. I dare you.”
Haddock laughed. His smile faded with a moment’s uneasiness, but then he smiled brighter than before. “You dare me?” he said. He pointed his gun at Robert so he could see the wide hole of the large revolver’s muzzle. Every part of Robert wanted to duck and run, but he held himself steady. Blue had told him to stay where he was no matter what.
“If you shoot me and you’re wrong… you’ll never see your stupid, nasty photos again,” Robert said. “Ever.”
“But I’m not wrong,” Haddock said. A gun sounded.
Robert thought he had died, until the water six feet beside Haddock sprayed and bubbled with a stray bullet and Haddock leaped away. Robert realized he had felt the bullet sail past him. He looked back at Crutcher, praying he was awake and alive—but Crutcher had not moved, his gun still abandoned. Of course not. The shot had come from behind him.
“Leave him alone!” Gloria’s shaky voice said. “That was just a warning. Drop your gun, or I’ll put the next one in your head!”
Robert whirled around, sure he had slipped into a dream. Gloria was standing near the bank, a small pistol raised like she meant it. Gloria barely seemed real, dressed in too-big men’s pants, talking like a mobster with a gun in her hand. If he was dreaming his sister so vividly, maybe he’d dreamed these past days at the Reformatory too. If Blue hadn’t told him to stay exactly where he was, Robert would have run to her.
The only person more shocked to see Gloria was Haddock, squinting his eyes in her direction, pointing his gun toward her instead. That was the only way Robert was sure she was real, and pain bloated his belly. He’d never thought Gloria would come to try to find him, although now it seemed he should have known he would lose everyone he loved. Mama first. Then Papa. And now Gloria was in a place she shouldn’t be, face-to-face with a man who was the closest Robert had seen to the devil himself. Nothing had been right for him in the world for as long as he could remember, so of course Gloria was about to get killed while he watched.
“I’ll be goddamned,” Haddock said. “That explains this whole thing. You had help.” He didn’t sound the least bit concerned about the gun. He’d flinched at the gunshot, but now he was at his full height again. The bloodhound barked angrily at Gloria, tugging hard on his leash.
“Put the gun down!” Gloria said again, although her voice was less steady.
“Who is that, Robert?” Haddock said. “Is she kin to you?”
Robert didn’t answer, as if telling would cause Gloria immediate harm. If he moved at all, Haddock might shoot her. Or he might shoot him to spite her. Gloria didn’t have good pistol aim—she was just playing a part to try to seem scarier—but Robert was sure Haddock loved to practice.
“Ahhh…,” Haddock said, and a small smile returned to his face. “I bet that’s the sister who came to visit on Sunday. Is that when y’all hatched this crazy idea? Is she the one who cut the fence?”
“Drop your gun!” Gloria said again, screaming with rage now, although clearly Haddock had no plans to obey her. Her gun seemed to mean nothing to him.
“With all due respect, miss,” Haddock said, turning to Gloria, “I admire your gumption, but I will not. I’m betting that wasn’t a warning shot; you just missed. Now, you can come closer and try to shoot me again with that little lady pistol, but I guarantee you Robert will be dead before you can get a bead on me. You’re lucky you didn’t clip your brother at that angle. I think we both know that, don’t we?”
Robert heard Gloria breathing faster, frustrated and frightened. Blue landed on the tree branch, watching as a crow. He cawed so Robert would see him. Finally!
Robert’s relief died when Haddock fired back at Gloria, and wood chipped from the tree trunk near her head. Gloria ducked away with a shriek, splashing in the water. Robert felt faint with worry that she’d been shot, but she was stirring behind the brush, climbing to the bank to hide. The dog barked and growled madly now, wading toward Haddock.
“Now, that was a warning shot,” Haddock said. “See the difference? But I’m not gonna kill you yet, little miss. I want you to see this.”
Robert covered his ears, which were ringing terribly from gunfire so close, especially the ear Red McCormack had hurt. “Gloria, get back!” Robert yelled to her. “I don’t need your help!”
Again Haddock looked at Robert with nervous confusion. He was more worried about Robert than he was about Gloria. Maybe, deep down, he knew.
“What’s got into you?” Haddock said.
“Now, Blue!” Robert shouted. “What are you waiting for?”
Haddock crouched slightly, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one else was coming. When nothing on the bank moved, Haddock canted his head as he glared at Robert. “You’ve wasted enough of my time. I’m getting that envelope back. Move an inch and I’ll shoot you where it’ll hurt most.” Haddock waded toward Robert, so close that Robert could see his rage-reddened eyes. “First I’m gonna kill you… then I’ll get your sister too.”
The water around Robert’s knees turned cold, as if he were standing in the freezer. He thought the cold might be from fear, his limbs losing sensation—until the fog began to rise.
* * *
In his last moments of life, Fenton J. Haddock thought about his baby sister.
It was a lie to say he’d never wanted a sister. The idea had seemed fine at first: someone to dress up, someone to tease who couldn’t cuss him like his mother or beat him like his grandfather, who had once made a living whipping slaves he tied to an oak tree on the McCormack plantation. But he’d quickly learned that a baby drained away what little time and care his parents had for child-rearing, and it wasn’t long before he’d hated how they only smiled at Lucy and never at him. They didn’t notice whole days he missed school or the wild rabbits he caught to torture in cages in the barn. Lucy had been staring up at him with those giggles that turned so easily to tears, and one day he’d had enough of his parents’ new favorite pet. He didn’t plan it out or choose the day; he simply picked up her blanket and covered her face until her crying stopped. He wasn’t sure she was dead at first, since he hadn’t pressed the blanket especially hard. He was a little surprised at the new color of her face, how her breathing had stopped along with her wailing. But he made his peace with it.
He’d been more superstitious as a boy, thinking God would storm into his room and drag him straight to hell. But it never went that way. If anything, he gained more sweets and a later bedtime because his parents coddled him after Lucy died. Maybe he tried to make it up to Lucy by brushing her thin hair so pretty and heating up the iron all by himself so her dress wouldn’t have a wrinkle on the photo-taking day. But while he posed with her on the sofa with her feeble weight on his lap, her skin cold, eyes closed, he felt certain that Lucy would exact her revenge one day. Sure enough, that very night, a drinking glass flung itself from his nightstand and broke to pieces on his bedroom floor. A piece of glass he missed when he tried to clean up the mess cut his foot so deeply that it had left a blood puddle that could never be washed away from the wood. That was the first of his long association with spiteful haints.
And this ordinary summer day in Gracetown might be his last. Haddock suspected it as soon as the creek turned to ice water, but he only knew when Kendall Sweeting appeared in front of him, blocking his view of Robert Stephens, solid as living flesh. Even Colonel saw Sweeting, the dog yanking so hard on the leash that he finally freed himself as Haddock’s hand went slack.
“You,” Haddock said, the last word he would ever speak.
Sweeting shook his head. “Us,” he said.
The water, so still before, churned like rapids against Haddock’s knees while the treetops swayed above, a sudden and impossible storm. Colonel growled and barked, confused and wild-eyed, but he was moving toward Sweeting as if for protection. Smiling at Haddock with perfect white teeth, Sweeting laid his hand across Colonel’s head to scratch him behind his ears.
“Colonel knows me from the kennel,” Sweeting said. “Colonel knows us.”
The new cool fog hanging low over the creek should have been enough to warn Haddock to move out of the water, but it was too late now. He felt a small, short-lived victory when he put the rest together: Stephens had emptied out the haints’ ashes in the creek, so he’d been standing in their midst the whole time. Who knew how many spirits were conspiring against him now?
Could Lucy be with them too? Haddock felt the greatest terror of his life as he thought he saw his baby sister’s face framed beneath the bubbling water, laughing at him. Other faces shimmered beneath the pale creek water—some he remembered, some he didn’t—but Lucy’s was his greatest torment, a long-ago promise finally fulfilled.
Too late, Haddock turned to run toward the safety of the bank.
“Git him, boy,” Sweeting said, his voice mimicking Haddock’s, nearly buried by the water’s roiling.
Colonel splashed after Haddock with savage growls, his sweet nature twisted by the haints, unrecognizable. Between awkward, stumbling steps in the water, Haddock reached over his shoulder to try to shoot the dog, which he now knew he should have done as soon as he’d seen Sweeting petting him. But Colonel sank his teeth into Haddock’s wrist before he could squeeze the trigger. Haddock dropped his Colt in the dizzying blaze of pain as Colonel’s teeth raked through his skin, snapping the bones of his fingers and wrist. Haddock roared with agony as he stumbled and fell into the hostile creek. One or two of his fingers might be gone, but he couldn’t tell for sure in his hand’s pulsing agony.
All he saw was fur and Colonel’s bloody muzzle.
Haddock started to say, “NO, boy—” as he choked on the bitter water clogging his mouth, but Colonel’s teeth clamped across his neck and stole his words, and his throat, clean away.
42
Gloria hadn’t known dogs could feel shame until she saw Haddock’s bloodhound, coat drenched soupy red, dragging itself out of the creek. The dog was shaking as much as she. Gloria raised a wobbly arm as she climbed over brush to get closer to the dog and Robbie, ready to shoot the animal if she had to, but the blood-spattered dog didn’t look her way. It didn’t sniff at Mrs. Hamilton’s brother, who was now groaning and stirring on the bank as he raised himself to a sitting position. She knew the sheriff would put down any dog who killed a man, but she didn’t have the heart to shoot the dog that had saved them. The dog trotted off to the woods, back the way he and his master had come, tail slung between its legs. Whatever strange fever had sparked the dog’s attack against the Reformatory’s warden had passed.
She’d felt the fever too. For a minute, maybe two, the world had slid off-kilter to a place where still waters churned white with foam and tree branches whipped without wind. Somehow, in the confusion, the dog had gone mad. Or come to its senses. Or… something.
But the other dogs were still coming, and she could not expect a miracle twice.
Gloria wanted to help Mrs. Hamilton’s brother, but first she went to the edge of the creek to look after Robbie, who was staring at the mess left floating there. Gloria looked quickly away from the gore so it wouldn’t sear her memory—although she would never forget the sight of a man’s neck so thoroughly shredded. Robbie was standing only feet from the mess, still staring. He had not looked away once during the attack—had not seemed to hear her calling for him.
“Robbie!” she said. For the first time, his eyes snapped up—but only his eyes. He looked so much like he wasn’t himself that Gloria tensed, afraid that whatever fever had gripped the dog might have infected her brother too. “Don’t look!”
But his eyes went right back down to the mutilated corpse barely held together by clothing, half floating in the water.
