Chapter 25, Time of Purification

"Doc, you prolly want ta get over to the jail, they's been a shootin'," Jim said to Doc Robbins as he stepped out of one of the hotel rooms looking tired and disheveled. His eyes were blood shot and sunken and his clothing rumpled.

"What?"

"Somethin's happened at the jail, Doc. Willie Banks an' Steven Hubener is both dead, shot. You prolly need to pronounce death fer them," Jim said feeling as tired as Robbins looked.

"Christ, as if enough hasn't already happened today."

"How's these folks doin'?"

"No permanent damage that I can see of, once people got out of the valley and up here they seemed to have recovered, though a few of the older folks is still down with it. As near as I can tell, it's like an epidemic of histamine reaction to whatever the plant released into the air. Antihistamine's seem to be helping everyone. Sorry about your mother, Jim. Perhaps I could've helped her had you found her in time," Robbins said and shook his head.


"I think she missed Howard too much to want to live much past the day, Doc."

"Well, I'm about done here so I'll head over to the jail. Any idea who?"

"Idea, yes. Proof, no."

"Not that it matters much, still got two dead bodies I suppose either way. I'll check back on Sally and the kids when I get back," Robbins said and tipped an invisible hat to Jim and walked out into the parking lot.

Jim walked to thier room and rapped on the door. Susan, his youngest bounded up to the door, Jim could hear something on the other side run up to the door and quickly jerk it open. The security chain caught and the door came to a sudden stop.

"Susan! Don't just open the door, check to see who it is first!" Jim heard Sally saying.

"Who is it?" Susan chirped as she looked at her daddy through the open space the chain allowed.

If this where home, the door wouldn't be locked, Jim thought. The children had little sense of security or the need for it. Approaching ones farm was a point of exposure for at least a mile, one always knew who was coming. But, they also never stayed in hotel rooms nor in places where the nearest neighbor wasn't only feet away. He was also now acutely aware of his father and himself by association in the eyes of the other valley men. Someone had it in for Howard and he knew of Willie's peculiar hatred for all of the hill toppers but had to wonder now of what role he might have played in Howard's death. That Ed Tate Jr. was capable of such things was no longer a mystery to Jim, he'd seen it with his own eyes now.

"It's yer daddy, you silly goose," Jim responded with a grin to the delight of Susan who jumped up and down and tried to open the door once again. She was too small to reach the chain, but not that she realized it was still hooked.

"Hold on, Sue," Sally said, "hold on, momma needs to undo the chain."

The door closed suddenly then opened wide and Susan, still in her pajamas jumped out from the open doorway and grabbed on to Jim's waist. The eyes and face that hours before couldn't express any signs of life save for labored breathing now glowed with mischief and life.

"How's Hubie? I still can't belive ..."

Jim gave Sally his "not here, not now in front of the kids" look. His children knew about death, one cannot live on a farm and not be aquainted with lifes vagaries and death was often the thing one learns about first when one day the cow or the horse or one of the pigs is suddenly no longer there or is looking ill. But murder was a particular subject that never came up on a farmstead. The children knew about carnivors and herbivores and what happens when the two are mixed in together, but that was still nature and they seemed to know the difference between them. If a wolf took a sheep or a managed to get a pig, it was the wolf's nature to seek out meat as food. But what Jim had seen in the jail was neither natural nor need based, it was cruelty and he had no intention to introduce the topic of what happens when one man hates another man and has a gun.

Occasionally one of the older children would ask Jim about the war, and though it was men and guns and killing, it was done out of the natural instinct to survive, not raw emotional hatred. He didn't like talking about it much with them, for it always ended up opening some memory that he'd sooner leave in the dark recesses of his mind undisturbed, but it was also not murder.

"He's fine, met George Pembrook there also, he was checking up on Steve also," it felt odd lying, it always did, but at the moment where the kids had no where else to send them off to so a private mommy daddy conversation could take place, it was eaiser to lie than to scare them.

"Good, good," Sally replied and tried not to frown.

"Talked with Doc Robbins outside, he said everyone's having some allergic reaction to what was coming out of the plant an' most peoples is recoverin' save fer a few older folks," Jim stated to change the subject.

"Oh, not a poisoning then?"

"I suppose it could still be considered that, but gettin' people away from it has helped, how do you feel?" Jim asked.

"My eyes still burn a bit and my nose is runny, but breathing is easier," Sally replied.

"Though I doubt anyone's gonna have any livestock left," Jim replied with a sigh, thinking of thier milk cows, hen houses, pigs and the children's rabbits. "Pembrook seemed surprised at the problems in the valley, so did Shields. It's like they worked at the epicenter of it all but didn't have any of the problems everyone else had."

"That's a little odd," Sally responded.

"They were already havin' a problem when I dropped by after we found dad, everyone had a respirator with them while they was cleanin' up from the spill, maybe that had somethin' to do with it."

"Well, hopefully Benton was able to figure out what was happening and stuff should return to normal soon." As soon as he said it, Jim wondered if that was really a hope at all or just a wish. The last several hours had brought more change and trouble than he could remember from most of a lifetime in the valley. Things would not be the same given what had already transpired, but how different would remain to be seen.

"That would be nice," Sally said though not with any real conviction or hope.

A chorus of voices from outside in the parking lot was heard, shouts and scuffling leaked through the windows and closed door. Jim cocked his ear to listen, but the noise from the radio and the restless children precluded hearing what was going on. It didn't sound too good and Jim suddenly felt that same pang of worry and fear that he had felt that morning as the possee surrounded Hubener's Hardware.

Frowning to Sally, Jim turned to open the door. In the center of the parking lot, bathed in the florescent glow of the parking lot lamps a group of men huddeld together, the shadows mixed with the yellow tinting of the lamps gave the crowd a spectral appearance. Faces where darkened by the shadows cast by the bills of thier hats, hands clearly seen but other forms hidden. There was a loud discussion going on and in the center of it was Ed Tate Jr. and Ed Sr. Ed Sr. hadn't been out of his house for years, least not that Jim had ever seen him. But there he was in all of his corpulant glory. Standing behind the crowd was Sheriff Middlebrook and Alan as if to surpervise another gathering of the posse.

"It has to go, they have ta go," someone shouted.

"Yeah, all 'em!"

"We start up here an' work our way down ta the plant, no one escapes this time!" said Ed. Tate Jr. "Right Sheriff?"

"Uh, yeah, right," replied Middlebrook.

It struck Jim that the sherrif didn't sound to enthused.

"We know that Pembrook kilt ole Willie an' the prisoner," Ed Jr. said.

"Now, hold on there, how do we know this?" Jim shouted.

"Because he was there," Ed Jr. retorted.

"Yeah, an' so was Sheriff an' Alan, an' me. So which one of us did it?" Jim replied as he stepped off of the front walk and onto the parking lot. "You wanna check me fer a gun?"

"Stay outta this, Hilcock." Ed Jr. returned.

"Shut up, boy. Show proper respect to your elders," Ed Sr. snapped. "Jim, jus' go back inside yer room, we got buisness to attend to."

"It seems to me you've been attending to a lot of buisness today," Jim said as he stood apart from the group. The faces of the men gathered around the Tate's were all familiar, all of them he had known all thier lives and all of them he knew had some sense of right and wrong. They were following the flow, Jim needed to change that flow before something else went haywire.

"This is more of that official buisness, an' these men have been called ta posse, you haint," Ed Sr. replied.

"An' this is a village parking lot where I can stand an' enjoy the evening air," Jim said. "An' I don't suppose, Sheriff, you tole these men 'bout what happend at the jail this evening. 'Bout how ole Alan here was chased off by Ed Jr. before Willie an' Hubie mysteriously became dead?"

"Alan din't say nuthin'," Sheriff Middlebrook replied. "He saws Pembrook enterin' the jail afore findin' Willie an' the prisoner dead, that's what he saws."

"Alan?" Jim asked.

Alan slumped against the cruiser where he and his father where leaning against and didn't reply.

"But why shoot Hubie? 'less of course Willie shot Hubie an' Willie got what he deserved." Jim postulated.

The men gathered around the Tate's just stared at Jim and in the darkness Jim couldn't see thier expressions. He didn't know if what he was saying was causing any of them to doubt what was being sold them by Ed Sr.

"Never you mind, don't stand in th' way o' official police buisness," Ed Jr. growled.

"Boy, I won't tells you agin' 'bout that!" Ed Sr. snapped.

"What happen' ta Willie?" the voice of Robert Mumsford asked.

"Ask Ed Jr. here, he was with him, least thas what Alan said."

"I tole you what Alan saws, an' it weren't Ed," Sheriff Middlebrook replied. "So if you'll kindly butt out, Jim, we gots some fugitives ta round up. Posse, we'll start in the neighborhoods agin, this time no one refuses entrance."

"You all is makin' a mistake," Jim said to the group as it started to dissolve.

"An' you makin' a mistake standin' in our way!" Ed Jr. shouted.

"Posse, let's go," Sheriff Middlebrook said again and started walking towards the street.

Robert Mumsford walked over to where Jim stood. "Tate an' them lying to us?"

"I dun' know Rob, but somethin' aint right, especially about what happened at the jail. I know Pembrook didn't shoot Willie and certainly not Hubie. I know that for sure. The rest of what's going on, I have my doubts about," Jim said.

"You saw Willie then?"

"Yeah, I did. Was wierd, brought back some memories of the war."

"Why's the sherrif lyin' then?"

"Why isn't Alan talkin' either? I wish I knew Rob. I'd lay money down on the Tates bein' behind all this."

"You, you think Hubie innocent too, er, was?"

"What beef did he have with my paw? None that I ever knew of," Jim replied.

"Shields did shoot Ed, though." Robert said after a moment of silence.

"Yes, Benton told me that earlier, but do you know why?"

"Naw, wasn't in the office when it happend."

"Because Ed was claiming to be the father of Benton's daughter."

Robert Mumsford went wide eyed. Finally, after another pause he said, "hell, I'd a shot 'im too!"

"Things are goin' on 'round here that I don't think any of us knowed the half of."

The parking lot had cleared of men leaving Jim and Robert alone.

"That means Hubie prolly died tonight fer no reason attall, an' this search fer Shields an' Pembrook could be somethin' else cooked up. What can we do?"

"I don't know, Rob. With most of that posse behind the Sheriff, there's not much we can do, lest we willin' ta sacrifice our families fer it."

"Nothin' doin', nuthin's worth riskin' mah family any more, least not fer any hill topper," Robert said.

"Well, I'm not inclined ta sit back an' let this go on any further, it's not right," Jim replied and breathed a heavy sigh. "Someone needs ta stand up fer what is right."

"I'm sorry, Jim, but I aint riskin' any reprisals by the Tates. Why not jus' let this go?"

"Because, it aint right, whatever the Tate's have cooked up, that's enough fer me." Jim strode away from Robert, leaving him standing alone in the parking lot. The mob had descended upon the residential area and even in the darkness, Jim could see vague figures milling about the houses. He'd faced worse in the war and at the moment no rounds were coursing up range at him, he figured anything else was just child's play.

The night was cloudy, the blue reflection from the moon barely a dim and fuzzy orb on the waxing horizon. Traffic was non-existent, another puzzling happenstance for a busy state road and Jim was able to walk along the side of the road and past the stop light without having to step aside for a passing car. Ahead there was laughter and shouts of anger intermingled and the crashing of glass breaking. Jim had seen mob behavior before, from the hungry and war weary Italian peasants he'd encountered in his months in Italy. They would descend upon any luckless individual whom had been fingured as a fascist colaborator without any real evidence to support the action. Only the word of one trusted individual was all it took to string someone up to the nearest poll. Anger had a way of finding its expression regardless of who the target was.

Jim passed the Happy Valley Market whose windows were dark and parking lot empty. Ahead lay the houses and the now dispersed posse. They wouldn't be mollified easily, but aside from boxing the ears of the ring leaders, there was little else in his arsenal save for reason, and there was little hope that reason would be usefull either. Something had to be done just for the sake of being done, to salve the conscience should he be able to even remember this night and escape in one piece.

"Where'd you think yer goin'?"

The voice startled Jim and he stopped. In the shadows by the front of the market Jim made out the outlines of a car and someone leaning against it.

"To stop your little game," Jim responded.

"An' what game would that be?"

Jim heard the sarcasm in Ed Sr.'s voice.

"You infer I'm playin' a game."

"Aren't you? You're out here watchin' like a Ceaser overseein' his army. I dun' know what yer up to Ed, but yer playin' a game that's spun outta control," Jim walked a step forward but Ed Sr. stayed mostly hidden in the shadows.

"Mebe, but it's goin' an' it's got to keep goin' to the finish. They'll tear you up if'n you go down that road further. You been labled a turn coat, Jim. Take mah advice an' turn back. You can't stop it; I won't allow it."

"What yer doin', whatever it is yer doin', is wrong Ed, dead wrong. Three dead, Ed, three. Yer game aint a game, it's murder," Jim stated.

"I jus' enable what's already there, Jim. It's the valley's will, will of the people an' all that. It's jus' down the road."

"You may be able to feed yer son that, but you an' I both know that aint true. Those men're jus' a mob followin' someon's lie; yer lie." Jim knew it was of no use talking to Ed, but he wasn't going to back down to Ed's power play.

Jim could hear the cloaked grin that he couldn't see. Ed replied, "An' Ceaser gave them bread an' circus to appease the mob. I'm merely providin' a circus of a different stake."

"I'll wager you even b'lieve that yerself. Even Ceaser had his Brutus, Ed. Yer playin' with somethin' you don't want to mess with an' I think you've already tasted that. Jr. shouldn't have been wound up." Jim nudged at the dirt lot, making a little mound with the toe of his boot.

"You jus' mind yer own house, Jim. I'll mind mine," Ed Sr. said testily.

"I'll do that, Ed an' I'm doin' it now. I can't let you ruin this place fer anyone."

"It's not mine nor yer decision, Jim. It's the will of the valley. Oppose it at yer own risk."

"I'll do jus' that, Ed." Jim turned and continued on his way, leaving Ed Sr. in the darkness. The thought of a ball rolling down hill, gaining momentum with each rotation and once started impossible to stop as it gains speed and endangers anything that opposes it likened to the events of the day. Had it been corrected months, even years ago would the ball be rolling this far this fast? A farmer only sees his crops and his family and relys upon others for companionship, but it is always about the crops and the yeild and the mortgage. What was happening was without precedent in the valley, and the valley men had gotten a taste of collective action and developed an appitite for it.

The noise of the mob got louder and Jim saw groups of men poking around the houses or coming and going inside of them as if they were meant to. Parked by the side of the two streets that held the row of houses that bisected State15 like a large cross with the houses astride the arms of that cross, where Tate Jr, Sheriff Middlebrook and his son Alan. Here's his praetorian gaurd, Jim thought to himself. The Sheriff and his deputies were clearly outlined by the night horizon as the hill began its descent into the valley from the residential area of Bumpersville. Giving thier tacit approval to the obvious breaking and entering the mob was engaged upon were the very law that was intended to prevent such depredations upon its citizens.

"Dun' tell me God's finally striken the three of you blind, but like Paul on the road to Demascus, yer supposed ta be seein' the light, not ignorin' it," Jim addressed the three of them as he approached from behind them.

"Go back home, Hilcock," replied Sheriff Middlebrook without turning.

Alan and Ed swiveled around in surprise. Jim noted the still present hesitation in Alan, the confusion of a young man brought up on sound principles but was now lacking the proper role model.

"Where in the village charter do it say you can allow this?" Jim asked.

"Under the clause the Sheriff can use any means necessary ta apprehend a criminal," the sheriff replied and folded his arms.

"Then God has stricken you blind, 'cause yer standin' right next to one," Jim said then wondered if it was really that wise to confront the devil himself on his own turf.

"Fortunatly, you dun' make the rules nor define the criminals, Hilcock. Now be off with you while we conduct this here search."

"An' I suppose yer posse has permision to enter all these homes from they's owners?"

"Anit nobody here, they's all down there at the plant 'er somethin'. We aint breakin' too much," replied Ed Jr.

"I imagine that's a bit more to yer liking then, no one to oppose you. Fine example yer settin' there Sheriff," Jim said as he moved passed the rear of the squad car the men where reclining against and headed for the first house on the street, the Shield's house where several figures where milling about.

"An' jus' what you think yer doin'?" Ed Jr. asked as Jim passed him.

"Goin' ta do yer job, at leas' the job yer supposed ta be doin'."

Jim felt the back of his neck get hot, no doubt from the glares burning into him from the three men he had unjudiciouisly left behind him. Shooting someone in thier cell was one thing, shooting someone out in the open was something entirely different, or at least Jim hoped.

"Ed, wait, whatchoo doin," Jim heard Alan's voice from behind him call out.

Quick and heavy footfalls sounded behind him and Jim turned to see Ed Jr. take another step towards him and swing his right arm forward and was struck by Ed's revolver handle in the temple and felt his legs buckle underneath him.

"Paw! Ed! What's goin' on!"

Jim's head didn't hurt, at least not yet but he also couldn't stop the ground from spinning. He didn't really know what had happened only that the ground had suddenly come racing towards him.

He felt cold, chilled to the bone and memory triggered by the suddenness of the blow took him back to Italy; back to the war. Days bled into each other so that he had no idea what one day was from the next as one would normally be able to discern a Monday from a Tuesday. It was while manuvering his platoon up another rocky Italian mountainside against another German devensive position, one not so unlike the position encountered the day before and the one it took a week to breach before that. The mountainsides where bare but for scraggly brush and sharp shale rocks that artilery fire exaserbated the danger from flying shrapnell and shards of rock.

Infantry needed to fire and manouver, fire and manouver, cover fire for the movement of the platoons on the flanks, hunker down and reorganize for another attempt up the slope and do it all over again. One moment Jim had been reorganizing the men left uninjured and rose to move off when another such blow had sliced his temple and knocking him back down to the ground. A richochet had glanced off a rock and the round hit him under his helmut. He hadn't felt any pain with that one either, not right away but had been felled and was dizzy and none too sure of what had happened. Images where all he could remember, blurred and disjointed images as he lay looking up at the sky. But clear headed conciousness would not return for another few hours when he found himself being carried down the mountain by two medical corpsmen.

"Paw, do sumthin'!"

"Quiet, Alan," Sheriff Middlebrook hissed. "That's enough Ed."

"He's standin' in th' way, I'm gonna put him down like the dog that he is," Ed Jr. said with a laugh.

"I said enough, now back off. Alan, load him in the back of yer cruiser and get 'im back to the cell, we'll keep 'im there fer awhile," Middlebrook said.

"Awright." Ed said and stepped back.

Jim rolled over onto his back, the night stars looked so bright this evening, he thought as his head began to throb painfully and he closed his eyes to shut out the pain.