Absolution
by Rae
eighth in the Savior Series
Around 9.30 that night they pulled off the bumpy road into the driveway, Hutch thinking he shouldn't have eaten so much at Rick's Tavern. A rainy day, a little sightseeing, a lot of "farm activity," and too much to eat. He was ready to sleep again, and the rain on the roof would add the right ambience.
"We should have gotten another order of onion rings to go," Starsky said, and belched, and laughed.
"You didn't mind missing the movie?"
"Nope. We'll go see it when we get back home." He went quiet for a moment while Hutch maneuvered the Jeep into the driveway. "Was kind of wishing we could stay longer. Not go home."
Hutch turned off the ignition, wanting to say something about maybe putting in applications at the Brattleboro PD or the sheriff's department, and not just joking either. He was going to say something about maybe getting a year's lease on their cabin, and maybe a few critters of their own. Something about not caring about no TV and no movies within fifteen miles and no yellow air and no traffic lights and no murders and no screaming children. Something about—
"Do you hear that?" Starsky shoved his door open and got out fast.
There was some kind of commotion in the barn: awful moaning sounds, flapping and squawking, and a teeth-on-edge shriek that sounded as ungodly as anything Hutch had ever heard.
Starsky ran for the barn, yelling, "Go get Ruthie!"
Hutch wanted to shout wait for backup! but Starsky was already shouting himself, shouting and swearing and he wouldn't have listened anyway. Hutch veered left to the main house and up the steps, heart pounding as fast as if he were in some Bay City alley, calling out to Ruthie and Sophia to come out quick, but they were already at the screen door, already running. He turned to let them go past and followed, tripping over the flat stone at the bottom of the stairs.
Ruthie had a rifle.
Jesus Christ.
"Ruthie! Starsky's in there!"
Sophia stopped short and turned back to him, waving her hand. "It's not loaded." She was breathing hard, though it was only a few feet that she'd run. "Don't tell her I told you."
Hutch's heart slowed down a little, but picked right back up when he realized Starsky was now hollering wordlessly, and banging something around. Maybe whatever was in the barn was just as dangerous as any human with a gun. Maybe it had sharper teeth than any knife they'd dodged, and a stronger survival instinct than any drug-hyped crazy clawing his way up a chain link fence at the end of some filthy alley.
Sophia had the flashlight, and pointed it toward where Starsky was. He'd found a pitchfork or rake and had wedged the handle of it behind something raccoon-sized. It was big and dark—and upside down at the top of the window of the hen house. It had somehow wedged itself between some chicken wire and the window itself, less than a foot above where the lower window had been removed. Inside, inches away, the chickens were making horrible bellowing sounds, the geese and ducks were swearing louder than Starsky, and the roosters were sending out an alarm that even Hutch, with his lack of education in chicken language, was able to understand easily.
Sophia's up-pointed flashlight made the raccoon look huge and terrible, but at the same time young and almost vulnerable. It must have been terrified. Its teeth were less than a foot away from Starsky's upraised arms, and what if it had rabies . . .
"Fucking asshole," Ruthie said, but she didn't mean Starsky. She meant the animal that Starsky was holding at bay with his pitchfork. "That's the son of a bitch who murdered Bandy and Victor the other night." She took up a stance with her gun. "Look out. I'm going to kill him." She glared at Starsky. "Don't let him fall inside the coop."
Starsky obviously had nothing to say to that, and threw a wild helpless glance at Hutch. Hutch couldn't think of a suitable don't-worry signal so he just shrugged, and, taking a couple of steps forward, put his hand on the rifle. Ruthie let him take it, and to his horror, suddenly began to cry.
"I hate him," she said. "But it's not his fault. It's just what he does."
Still crying and muttering, she started to rummage around in the dark corners of the barn and found a stepstool. Starsky, still at his post, stared at her. He'd begun to look a little desperate. Hutch didn't want to think what they'd do if the raccoon fell into to the henhouse before Ruthie could figure out a way to get him out of his self-made trap. She climbed up her wobbly ladder and yanked hard at some boards.
"I just put these up the other night," she said. "I thought it was enough. It's never enough. No matter what I do, the foxes, the raccoons, they always find a way to take them. One after another. These are my friends. I'm responsible for them. I keep failing them. Over and over."
Sophia looked uncomfortable. "I'm so sorry," she said to Hutch. "Luckily we didn't have any guests in the cabin the other night." She moved the flashlight so Ruthie could see better. "The other night he got in and we came out too late to save two of them. Ruthie's been a wreck ever since."
They talked quietly and watched while Ruthie pulled down her boards and Starsky held the raccoon in its precarious position. It just hung there, upside down, quiet, and Hutch could swear it was avoiding eye contact with all of them. As soon as Ruthie gave it enough room to turn, it hauled itself upright and out, a few pokes from Starsky's pitchfork helping it along in the right direction. It climbed up into the rafters and stayed there, watching, glaring.
"Oh," Ruthie said to it, "did we hurt you? Sorry." She gave kind of a short almost-laugh that held no humor. "Get the fuck out of my barn before I go put bullets in my rifle."
Starsky was breathing like he'd run a marathon without warming up first. He dropped his arms and looked at Hutch.
"I know how you feel," he said to Ruthie. He put down his pitchfork and started hunting around. He found some dusty boards leaning against a wall. "Got a hammer? I'll help you board the window back up."
Ruthie scrubbed at her face with both hands. Sophia moved toward her but she held up a hand and said, "Don't," and Sophia stopped short. All she did was stand there for a minute, until Ruthie nodded finally. "I'm okay." She looked at Starsky. "Thanks. You saved a lot of lives tonight. So thanks."
Starsky looked at Hutch again, and took a short breath. "Maybe it's better to think about the ones we save, and not about the ones we don't."
Ruthie nodded. "I'll go get the hammer," she said, and disappeared into the dark.
Sophia said, "When you're done, we'll go in and have a couple of beers."
Starsky managed half a smile. Hutch began to breathe normally, and felt his adrenalin start to ebb.
"Hey," Sophia said. "You guys ever play Monopoly?"
Victor (with little Frosty) Bandy
(photos (c)Ruth Rayfield. 1981)
feed the critter: racric@verizon.net