Read Dustland Requiem (A Bard's Folktale) Page 20


  Chapter 17. His Forgotten Seat of Innocence

  “Heard a sayin’ once—‘the good die young.’ Only sayin’ I ever believed.”

  – Adelais’s Scratch Pad

  Unknown Region, Mexico

  Adelais awoke at dawn in the driver’s seat of the truck, to the sound of a rattlesnake finishing its skirmish with some unfortunate prey. He had already used up a full tank of gas, and checking the gauge, was coming close to finishing off another. Having made this trip once before, he knew to bring several containers, which lay resting in the bed of the truck. He looked back, making sure the containers were still secure under the tarp he had tied down, along with his brother’s body.

  Continuing his drive, at about mid-day he finally came upon the remains of a ghost town in a fertile mountain valley. On the way in, he passed the only sign that still stood—one of the few structures not charred to ash. He drove along the broken-down road until he could make out the small lake hidden by a dense thicket of trees. Only a handful of houses remained.

  Taking the truck through the pocket-sized forest, he reached an old, dilapidated cabin that had long ago succumbed to the ravages of nature. He remained in the truck, cutting off the engine and taking a minute to look the place over. “Good ta’ be home,” he muttered.

  Adelais climbed out of the truck, wasting no time in heading into the cabin. He paused in the small doorway, surveying the long-abandoned cabin. A few pieces of assorted rustic furniture lay strewn about, either tossed around or simply disturbed by wildlife. The dusty air left no kind impression in his lungs, discouraging an extended trip down memory lane.

  He rummaged through the small closet near the door, trying to find something to protect his torn-up hands. He came upon a pair of mismatched gloves, apparently meant for a lady, and made do. As he pulled them off the shelf, a small, beaded bracelet came along with them, caught on part of the glove. Adelais scoffed, tearing the bracelet off the gloves and sticking it in his pocket. He reached behind the door, feeling for and grabbing his shovel before heading out back.

  He wandered into his backyard, a mix of sandy dirt and overgrown vegetation. It wasn’t overly large, but held enough space for the two person-length mounds of dirt marked by crude, handmade crosses. Staring at them, he estimated the yard could hold at least two more. He knelt, rubbing the shoddy etching on the wooden crucifixes.

  “Roque and Aimée Martinez…”

  A crop of honey-colored flowers swayed in the wind around the markers. Their golden petals danced with the breeze. Adelais leaned in, taking in the scent of his home. For a moment, he recalled what it had been like to be nothing but a boy. He exhaled and broke a flower off at the stem, keeping it with him.

  Putting his mother’s gloves on, Adelais went to work digging a hole next to his father. With a mighty plunge, he broke the earth with his shovel. As he dug, he drew slow breaths, relishing the cool mountain air grazing his skin. His body had long ago abandoned the woodland scent of home, but it hadn’t forgotten.

  After digging for some time, he took a seat under a nearby tree, pulling the gloves off as he sipped from a bottle of water. He leaned back on the rough bark, exhaling while he pressed his hand against his abdomen. He lifted his fingers up to see only small spots of red. That particular wound was healing. He pressed his hand against his abdomen again, laughing quietly to himself. He couldn’t tell if the pain in his gut was any different from the ache all over the rest of his body. He stood and continued his work.

  Finally reaching an adequate depth, he tossed the shovel aside and headed back for the truck. He untied the tarp, scaring off the animals that had been poking around, and picked up his brother’s stiff, rotting body. The stench overwhelmed him, forcing Adelais to hold his breath and keep his eyes off his brother as much as possible. He quickly moved to the hole and dropped his brother in.

  “I think I’m supposed ta’ say somethin’ here, but I dunno…I ain’t much of a thinker. Was always your job.” Adelais slid his hands into his pockets, feeling the bracelet. He pulled it out, playing with the beads. “Never got ya’, Sig. Spent all yer time playin’ with shit instead of fightin’. If you were any kinda smart, you’da learned how to take care of yerrself a long time ago instead of always makin’ me have ta’ do it.”

  Adelais picked up the shovel and began tossing dirt on top of his brother, into his grave. “Wasn’t enough I had to bury them, was it? Puttin’ my own baby brother inta’ the ground…still takin’ care of yer dead ass.” Adelais’s grip on the handle tightened as he filled the hole. Looking at his brother’s face again and again, he stopped shoveling. He snorted, glaring at the corpse. “What gives you the fuckin’ right?” Adelais threw the shovel down, gripping Siggy’s bracelet so tightly his knuckles cracked. Adelais ripped the bracelet into pieces, throwing beads and pieces at Siggy’s body.

  “Ya’ know what? I’m so goddamn sick of this, always cleanin’ up after yer messes. Ya’ can’t just die and leave yer shit for me ta’ fix. Clean up yer own fuckin’ mess fer once!” Adelais grabbed the gloves off the ground and threw them at Siggy’s face.

  He paced around in a circle a few times, trying to breathe and keep his hands steady. He dug his hands through his hair, ripping out several strands as they caught on his fingers. He stopped in front of the open grave, staring at the abomination that used to be his brother. “Ugh, ya’ know what? Fuck this.” Adelais kicked the shovel into the grave and walked off, back to the truck.

  As he held the truck door open, he noticed an aged man wearing a satchel and dressed in skins off in the distance, watching him. Adelais set his yellow flower in the truck and stomped off toward the man, still trying to calm his nerves.

  “The hell you starin’ at, old man?” Adelais said.

  “Nothing much,” the old man replied, smirking.

  “Ya’ think this is funny?”

  “I thought you’d be more respectful with your dead.”

  Adelais grabbed at the older gentleman, ready to shove him onto the ground when the wizened man evaded his grasp and grabbed him by the bicep and collar. The older gentleman shifted his weight and dropped Adelais onto the ground, mounting him. Adelais stared up in disbelief at the old man, who sat on top of him, until the old man stood up, offering his hand. Adelais took it and pulled himself to his feet.

  “Guess you just lack respect in general. Said the general.” The wizened man chuckled.

  “Lucky shot…”

  “Wanna try again?” the older man waited, but Adelais made no move. “Good boy. Now, we both have a problem. You’ve been off killing my lieutenants, and my lieutenants have been killing off you. You all. Your friends. Not you. Bunch of dead bodies doesn’t help anyone. Community can’t thrive if everyone’s dead, can it?”

  Adelais looked up into the sere, well-groomed face. “Who’re you?”

  “Pay attention son, I’m the grandfather of all this modern desert. But we can graze over the hype, for now.” The older gentleman brushed Adelais off.

  “Estaban?”

  “And you just skipped to the head of the class. I don’t like wasting my time, so listen up: some of my lieutenants have become a problem. Since you’ve already made it your mission in life to snuff them out, I want you to do it for me.”

  “I ain’t doin’ shit fer you. I ain’t a bandito, and yer the reason my brother’s dead.”

  “Zero for two. Yes, I sit high atop my proverbial castle. Guess what? Castles have great views. Especially the bastion. Seriously, you should see my bastion.” The old man took a breath. “You’ve done solid for work for me already, whether it was your intent or not. So fickle, intentions. Because of that, I’m gonna make you this offer: I’ll give you a list of names, you make the people those names belong to as ambitious as your brother over there,” the old man nodded to the open grave. He continued, “When the list is concluded, I’ll personally adorn and deliver the fine man responsible for your loss. With a decorative ribbon, if you like. Oh, and I’ll make sure
no one else you love dies bloody. Believe it or not—I hate bloodshed.”

  Adelais stood staring at Estaban, unable to tell whether he was talking to one of the most powerful men ever to rule the land, or a senile old fool. His expression must’ve betrayed him, because the old man began to lose interest.

  “Forgive me. I’ve been living this life a long time. Thought the wrinkles gave it away. Take your time and consider my offer, but bring me your response by week’s end. I’m sure you know where to find me. But if you forget, just ask for directions to the Hacienda.”

  Estaban took Adelais’s arm over his shoulder, and with surprising strength walked Adelais back to the red pickup. Estaban unslung his old leather satchel, pulling out a piece of jerky, and handed the bag to Adelais as a gift. Taking a seat in the truck, Adelais watched as the old man walked off and waited at the edge of the town. Before long, a black SUV pulled up, with two well-armed banditos getting out to help the old man in. Adelais drew a piece of jerky out of the bag and took a bite as he waited for the pain in his body to subside. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be ready to travel once again.