A Town Called Evening (Episode VIII)

Home to Rackham

Previously on ATCE

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The truck was still running, gas near empty. He was in the driveway of before his office, Rackham returned.

The morning after the strange dreams and Grace’s letters, Luke was left with a rather obvious decision. The sun came up, but peace did not follow. Tension remained, tucked away in every corner, behind every tree, and just beyond where Luke’s eyes could see. First light—calling it light would be generous with the winter mist’s grey filter—Luke grabbed everything and all but ran down the mountain to his waiting truck.

He did not bother stopping in Evening. That felt like a bad idea.

He raced home.

Now, here he was.

Even in Rackham, the sun seemed weak. Something was wrong; like the arms of Evening stretched out and followed him. No one was out on the streets. Of course, it was normal for activity to minimize during winter but this was drastic. Things were too quiet.

Something had to be done.

Luke pulled out Grace’s missing photo and smoothed it on his dashboard with shaking hands.

She was alive. She was real.

He thought of the strange family and the ravens in the mountains. If Grace’s note could be trusted, things would be difficult.

Now, what should he do about it? Call her parents? The FBI? No. That would not do. There would be too much to explain; things that could not be explained by Luke given his history. He’d need to take care of this himself. He raised his trembling finger to his mouth and began to gnaw on the cuticle.

Luke wasn’t nervous, however. He was excited. For the first time in what felt like a long time, he was very much looking forward to tomorrow.

Of course, he couldn’t do this alone.

Abuzz, he stuffed his hand into his back pocket and retrieved his phone. He scrolled through his limited contact list. Going back to Evening would require people who wouldn’t ask many questions, but would be prepared for anything. He’d need people he could trust afterwards to keep their silence.

Luke sat in the shadow of his vehicle, his face cast by the blue-white light of his phone.

He hastily typed out a message to Sulley: Do you still have access to the cartel stuff Sheriff Carver stored on your dad’s land?

Almost immediately, a blue bubble and three rippling dots appeared on the screen.

Where the hell have you been???

There was a pause, then Sulley added: Also yes, but the key is still at your work

Luke smiled. He typed, deleted half the message, then re-typed it without mistakes: Pick up the key in ur mailbox tonight. I’ll drop it off. and get Isaac, 3 good horses. meet me at the precinct at 5AM tomorrow.

Sulley: 🤠👍

---

Deputy Forrest McNabney looked up in shock. “Where the hell have you been?” he began.

“Where’s sheriff?” interrupted Luke. The bitter air followed him as he entered the office. The door shut behind him, the bell tinkling merrily.

Behind coke-bottle glasses, Forrest’s eyes blinked owlishly. “He’s not back,” he answered. “There was an emergency meeting up North. We called you a million times. There was a cartel bust on the Canadian border.”

Luke passed Forrest and opened his desk drawer.

Forrest followed. “We thought you were dead in a ditch. You’re always here first with the coffee and everything, so we figured something was wrong.”

Luke snatched the padlock key and looked up at Forest. “I’m going to be gone for a few more days.”

“Huh?’

“I said I’m going to be gone a couple of days.” Luke hesitated, hand on the door. Then, he added, “I’m using my PTO finally.”

“Oh… okay.”

Forrest looked unconvinced, but Luke could not stop to care.

He returned to his vehicle and turned the key in the ignition. The truck rumbled to life. Without waiting for the engine to warm, Luke backed out of the parking lot.

First, he’d drop off the padlock key in Sulley’s mailbox.

Then, he’d head home.

There were two things he needed: a book and an axe.

---

Luke found his mother in the living room. The weak afternoon sun poured in from behind her, casting her face in shadow. She sat on the plush armchair that sat in the corner for decades. The green carpet beneath had moulded to its shape.

As a young boy, Luke used to lie on his stomach on the same carpet. He’d tilt the armchair, like he was searching for worms beneath a rock. Luke would try to get the fibers to lay upright to match the rest. It never worked. His mother would scold him for moving around the furniture. Then, she’d put everything back in its place.

“Where’s the book? My book?” Luke demanded.

She jumped, nearly dropping the cup of tea in her hand. “Oh, you’re home!”

Hastily, he removed the hat from his head. “Yes,” he said awkwardly. “Yes, I’m sorry. Hi, mom.”

She took him in, a small frown beginning to dent her brow. Luke dropped his hands and held them behind his back. Slowly, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He knew she’d note his energy from a mile away.

“What book, honey?” she asked.

She knew.

“The Grimm one,” answered Luke.

She placed her mug on the coffee table. “I’ve been meaning to ask you: when was the last time you saw Dr. Greene?”

Luke forced himself not to scowl. He hated questions.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Luke countered.

She crossed her arms. “Where have you been?”

A question for a question for a question.

“Why?” asked Luke.

She tapped her knee for a moment before rising with a heavy sigh. “This is why I took that book away, honey.”

“Well, I don’t need it that badly,” he muttered to himself. Luke turned away.

“Where are you going?”

Luke ignored his mother, continuing on through the kitchen.

“Lucas Michael Gatelin!” she snapped.

He paused. Out of respect, he faced his mother. She was hot on his heels and stopped just short of him. Her fists were at her sides, jaw set. “You cannot run off without telling people where you’re going to be.”

Luke’s eyes flicked out toward his waiting truck. He could see the handle of his freshly-acquired axe in the passenger window. “I know, I’m sorry mom.”

“If you’re really sorry, you’ll wait for your father to get home before leaving. We need to talk about what’s going on. You’ve been strange lately. I’m worried.”

“I’m fine. Just in a little bit of a hurry.” He retreated a single step.

Her mouth opened and closed. “If you won’t listen to me, then I’ll get Hank here,” she erupted.

“Mom.”

She brushed past him, going for the phone on the wall.

“Mom,” repeated Luke.

She ignored him.

“What are you doing? Who are you calling?” Luke asked.

“I already told you. I’m calling your brother.”

“Mom, don’t you dare.”

She took up the phone and began to dial.

“No!” Luke ripped the phone from her hands and slammed the receiver back on the hook.

She gasped, eyes wide.

Luke sharply inhaled. “Mom, I’m not asking you to understand. I know why you’re doing this, but please, please, please, I need you to trust me.”

“Lucas—”

“This isn’t what you think it is. It’s not like before. I can do this.”

Her eyes searched his for a few moments.

Then, his mother deflated. “Can’t I know?” she questioned.

“Not yet,” he said. “Maybe when things are done… maybe then, I’ll tell you.”

---

Author’s note:

This is a simple, pulpy story that takes us from point A to point B. I didn’t expect anyone to be particularly interested, but here we are: more than halfway done with the story! From the bottom of my heart, I want to thank everyone for taking the time to read.

I will be continued ATCE on Wednesdays instead of Mondays because of my difficult day-job schedule. Weeks that I get lucky, I will post ATCE on both Mondays and Wednesdays.

Much love,

M.E.