Hazard 6

July, 2009
Hazard, Nebraska

Sleepy-eyed, standing in track-pants and an over-sized Mambo T-shirt that had once belonged to Zac, Mackie opened the front door. Constable Schultz stood on the door-step. He barged straight past the boy and stood by the lounge, indicating that Mackie should sit there.
"Can I help you officer?" he asked, puzzled, as he sat down.
"Where's the girl?"
"Excuse me?"
"Where's the girl?"
"If you mean my Mom, she's upstairs, but I'd hardly call her a girl,"
"Don't play games with me boy!!! Mary Hutchinson's been reported missing and you were the last one to see her,"
"What?" Mackie's eye went wide with shock. Mary was missing?
"You heard me boy! Now where is she?"
"I . . . I don't know," his face was white as a ghost.
"Mrs. Hutchinson told me you came back to your house last night alone, saying that Mary was going to walk home later. She never made it home, now where is she?"
"How am I supposed to know?!?"
"You were the last one with her boy!!! That makes you our number one suspect,"
"Suspect?!? Do you think I kidnapped her or something?!"
"I know from personal experience boy, that when you're involved, anything's possible,"
"Last night, I left Mary by the river. Safe and sound, I swear. She said she wanted to stay behind a little while and watch the stars!" Constable Schultz snorted. A likely story!
"Is that your official statement boy?"
"Yes it is. And would you quit calling me 'boy'!"
"According to you then, we should find her down by the river,"
"I didn't say that. I'm just saying that's where I left her last night,"
"That will be all for now, boy," the Constable picked up his hat and walked out the door, leaving it wide open behind him. Mackie didn't notice. Mary was gone. She was really gone. Why? Why would Mary just go? Why would she leave him all alone? Why hadn't she taken him with her? Mary was gone. A tear trickled down his cheek. They'd never find her. He knew that as certainly as he knew his mother was dying and that his life had been nothing but pain and tears.

Anger, powered by anguish, was behind every step Mackie took to the Kilch's front door. The bandages were wrapped securely around his chest, cradling injured ribs, the black eye-patch hiding an even blacker eye was in place. He took a deep breath and pounded on the door. Mr. Kilch opened it. He was a big man, liked by most, solid and extremely quiet, seemingly timid; it was his wife who ruled the roost here. Mr. Kilch simply went about his work, earned the money that his wife spent on extravagances for herself, and didn't say a word. He'd never understood why his wife had taken such a dislike towards Mackenzie Hanson, hated it when she constantly preached at the dinner table against the boy. But the second Mr. Kilch saw Mackie – bruises on his skin and fire in his eyes – on his front doorstep, he knew just what had been going on right under his nose.
Old Mr. Lawson had come to talk to him the other night, mild-mannered, saying he understood what raising four boys must be like, and that as much as he didn't want to, he would have to ask for some of the damages to be paid for.
'Of course, I don't expect you to pay for all of it! Four teenage boys can be a bit of handful at times I'd imagine!' Mr. Lawson had said, and had laughed. The bastard had actually laughed. Mr. Kilch inwardly smiled at what he'd answered with.
'You come kissing up to my ass because I could break you in two if I wanted to. If it was the Hanson boy you'd found in that store, you'd be over at their house right now, swearing and cursing at the poor boy's dying mother, demanding that everything be paid for, probably doubled'. Old Lawson had turned red as a beet. He hadn't suspected that Mr. Kilch was one of the five people in Hazard who didn't despise Mackie Hanson with a passion.
"Sir, I –" Mackie began.
"I know why you've come," Mr. Kilch cut the boy off, not unkindly. The town was buzzing with the news of the Mary Hutchinson girl's disappearance. And his Danny had raved about the girl so often . . . staring pointedly at the patch over the boy's eye, Mr. Kilch asked quietly,
"Did my boys do that to you?" Mackie just nodded, unable to speak the words, "I'll settle this," Mr. Kilch murmured to himself, "Once and for all," and then shouted furiously up the stairs, "DANNY KILCH YOU GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE NOW!!!" a door slammed and feet pounded down the stairs.
"Jeez Dad! What side of the coffin did you –" Danny froze. The look in his father's eyes scared him to death. He'd never seen his father more angry.
"I assume you know Mary Hutchinson's disappeared," blanching, Danny forced himself to look shocked. Too late! Mr. Kilch had seen it. He had known. Quick as a snake, Mr. Kilch had his son slammed against the wall, "All right boy, you better start talking,"

Wincing again, Mackie stared, horrified, as Mr. Kilch continued to beat his oldest son with his belt.
"Dad! Please! Stop!!!" Danny was screaming. Strange, Mackie hadn't thought it possible for a Kilch to cry.
"Where the hell's the girl?!?"
"I don't know!!!" for probably the first time in his life, Danny wasn't lying.
"Rave about the girl you're going to have no matter what it takes, hmm?!? How odd, she goes missing the next day!!! What have you done with her boy?!?!?"
"NOTHING!!!"
"BULL-SHIT!!!"

All the screaming finally forced Sonny out of his bed. Screaming wasn't really unusual in the Kilch house. If it wasn't the boys screaming at each other, it was Mrs. Kilch screaming at the boys or at her husband. But it was going on for so long. Trudging down the stairs, Sonny pulled up short, shocked. His dad was beating the shit out of his eldest brother . . . and Mackie-baby was standing in their living-room!
"Mom!!!!!!" Sonny shrieked, racing back up the stairs two at a time. A few seconds later, Mrs. Kilch, in a blue silk night-gown about three sizes too small, ran down the stairs to see what the hell was going on.
"Richard!!!!" she shouted pompously, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!?" Mr. Kilch ignored her. Then she spied Mackie. Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. "You!" her voice was filled with more venom than a cobra bite. Mackie heard her, and turned his bruised face to stare fearfully at her.
"See what you've done Judith? See what you've turned your own sons into?!?" dropping the almost unconscious Danny to the floor, Mr. Kilch turned on his wife. How many times had he regretted marrying this bitch? She'd been so different before. But the second he'd slipped the wedding band on her finger, the veil had dropped. She'd thrown off the disguise and become the cruel, arrogant, selfish bitch he knew now.
"What the hell are you talking about Richard? Are you drunk again?!?" by sheer force of will did he keep the burning hot belt by his side and not across his bitch wife's face.
"See what your own sons have done?" he pointed at the bruised Mackie, standing terrified at the door. He vaguely remembered his parents fighting before his dad had . . . had . . . but never anything like this! "They did that! They almost killed the boy!! For what?! You, you bitch!!!"
"The boy's a low-born bastard!!" Mrs. Kilch screeched back, "He deserves everything he gets!" Richard didn't miss 'the boy's flinch against the prejudiced hate in his wife's voice.
"You've turned my sons into devils of hate!!!" his voice became drenched in sarcasm, "That is, of course, if they are my sons –" screaming in rage, Mrs. Kilch launched herself at Mackie . . . but never made it. The hot leather smacked across her fat cheeks. She fell to the ground, crying.
"Get out! Get out now, bitch woman!!" Mr. Kilch practically had to drag her do her feet and went to open the door, only to find it already wide. Mackie had run, scared senseless. Lifting her clear of the door with a grunt, he kicked her down the stairs.
"Ever come near me or my sons again woman, a belting across the face will be the least of your worries. The divorce papers'll come through soon," he tossed over his shoulder as he slammed the door shut.

His breath coming in ragged gasps, Mackie collapsed on the stairs of his house. He hadn't been able to stand it a minute longer. The screaming, the accusations, the hate. . . . Pushing himself to his feet, he stumbled inside his door.
"I'm home Mom," he managed to shout. No answer. Strange.
"Mom?" still no answer. He felt his heart-beat up its tempo a few notches.
"Mom?" with a hesitant step, he walked into the kitchen.
"MOM!!!" she lay slumped on the floor.


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