Six Months Ago…

 

“There he is.”

I sat up a little straighter in the seat, watching as the truck passed us on the highway. Tyler started the car, pulling onto the asphalt so fast that the back end of the car fishtailed, and a spray of rocks burst up in our wake. We caught up to the truck in seconds, Tyler flashing his lights and honking his horn, laughing almost hysterically as he drove recklessly around the back of the truck. I could see the driver’s face as he glanced back at us in his rearview mirror. It was a familiar face. We’d been following him, harassing him, for months.

It was for a good cause. We were ridding our little city of unwanted influence. This man was protecting a woman who was selling sex toys to members of our church, members who were vulnerable to corruption, members who were being exploited, allowing a crack to open where the devil could find his way in and darken their souls.

We were protecting our own.

We were protecting innocents, like my sister. My beautiful, kind, generous sister, Ruth. One of these men was sniffing around her, threatening to corrupt her just as the sex toy lady was corrupting our men. We couldn’t allow it.

But it still caused me to pause when I saw the fear in that man’s eyes.

“Slow down, Tyler. You’re going to get us all killed.”

“Not us. God is protecting us.”

“God can’t protect us if you run the car off the road!”

Tyler ignored me, gunning the engine and then slamming on the brakes as we came within just a few inches of the tailgate of that truck. I grabbed the dashboard, holding on for dear life. Another brake like that, and one of us would go through the windshield!

“Tyler, you’re getting too close.”

“Shut up, Matthew!”

Tyler stomped on the accelerator, driving up close to the side of the truck, moving his car so close that we nearly swapped paint. The driver of the truck swerved, nearly going into the ditch, but getting control just in time. But Tyler wasn’t done. He purposely swerved the car into the truck, slamming into it until he had to struggle to gain control.

We were going eighty on the open road. The impact was horrendous, the sound one I would never forget. I know I screamed, and I knew it was something Tyler would make fun of me about for months to come. But he was laughing, maniacally, in loud bursts that were clearly the sounds of an insane man.

“Tyler, I think he gets the message!”

“Smythe wants him off our backs. This is the best way to do it.”

Tyler slammed into the side of the truck again. I caught sight of the man’s face, saw the naked fear in his eyes. It was the first time, after months and months of harassment, that I’d seen this man truly frightened. But we’d never done anything else quite this insane.

“Tyler!”

He went to slam into the truck a third time, but I grabbed the wheel and shoved it back the other direction. Tyler cried out, his fist flying into my nose as he struggled to regain control. I let go, and we hit the truck. Seconds later, we were facing the ditch, stopped just inches from going over, dust choking everything around us. My nose was gushing blood, my head growing a knot where I’d hit the dashboard when we slid to a stop. Tyler was slumped over the steering wheel.

“Tyler?”

And then I remembered the truck.

I twisted in my seat, searching the road for signs of it. I didn’t see it at first, but then…the wheels were still spinning.

The truck was upside down in the ditch.

I reached for the door handle, my only thought to get to the truck, get to the driver and help him. But Tyler grabbed my arm.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I have to go check on him!”

“It’s too late, brother. What’s done is done. We have to get out of here.”

“But he could be hurt!”

“Let’s hope so.”

Tyler started the engine again and slammed the car into gear, peeling out of there just as quickly as he had been driving before. I twisted in my seat, staring at the truck, willing the driver to crawl out of the ditch.

There was no sign of him.

 

 

I stood against a far wall, invisible in the busy hospital. He was standing with a cop, talking animatedly about something. I knew it was probably the accident, his need to find out what had happened, but I knew that cop, knew he wouldn’t tell him anything. Most of the deputies at the sheriff’s office were in Smythe’s pocket. I knew that cop in particular was working for the Guardians.

There was so much I could tell him. But that would require going against everything I’d believed since I was a small child, everything that had been drilled into my head since before I could remember.

A doctor approached the woman, the sex toy lady. She visibly broke as the doctor spoke. He joined her, holding her up as the doctor again explained what had happened. And then they turned into each other, dissolved in grief.

A cold finger danced in my belly, along my spine.

He was dead.

A man was dead, and I was responsible.

I’d killed Harry Cravits.