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  TRUE DARK

  Mike Miner

  PRAISE FOR TRUE DARK

  “Admirers of Mike Miner’s previous novels will undergo quick conversions to devoted fans when they read True Dark. Everything Miner does well—the spare dialogue loaded to within an inch of mercy, a story that doesn’t so much unfold as uncoil, breathtaking tension—he has sharpened to a masterful art in True Dark. That Miner does this without ever letting go of your heart, no matter how jaded, is the mark of emerging genius.” —James Anderson, author of The Never-Open Desert Diner and Lullaby Road

  “A carefully calibrated and complex page-turner that cascades over generations and decades without ever losing intensity. Miner keeps upping his game. Plot lines, eras, and characters interlace effortlessly in a well-crafted page-turner. Miner’s skills have out-paced his peers. True Dark is a perfect crime novel.” —Tom Pitts, author of 101 and American Static

  Copyright © 2019 by Mike Miner

  All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

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  an imprint of Down & Out Books

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  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover image credit Gareth McGorman

  Cover design by JT Lindroos

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  True Dark

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by the Author

  Preview from Let It Snow by Nigel Bird

  Preview from Widow’s Run by TG Wolff

  Preview from The Dead Don’t Sleep by Steven Max Russo

  1

  1980

  Leo Murphy was eight years old the first time his brother, Ryan, saved his life. Ryan was thirteen.

  They lived with their father in Oscuro, California on the very western edge of the Sonora Desert, in the shadow of the Oscuro Mountain range, spitting distance from the Mexican border. The town was home to a few hundred hardy souls who preferred land and sky to people. Folks who felt crowded when in groups bigger than two handfuls.

  The nearest Dairy Queen was over an hour’s drive northeast in Quicksilver, right next to the nearest hospital. It was a drive the boys made only on their birthdays. The trip was made longer by Leo’s carsickness. Halfway there they would have to stop and give him some fresh air. They learned the hard way on his fifth birthday when their father chose not to stop and Leo vomited all over the dashboard of their father’s blue Ford pickup. The smell of it, even with both windows open, nearly spoiled their appetites for ice cream. Nearly.

  Their mother passed away when Leo was five. He had no real memories of her. Cancer, which their father swore was a result of the mercury mines, now long abandoned, that dotted Oscuro County. Including one on their own land which had once been the biggest supplier of cinnabar in the country. A lot of people had gotten sick digging it out of the ground. Their grandfather had made a lot of money before it closed.

  “What was she like?” Leo would ask his father and brother from time to time.

  “Beautiful,” they usually said, which was proven in the pictures of her on his daddy’s dresser and on the living room walls, or “Kind.”

  “She was crazy for stars,” Ryan told him one night.

  “Stars?”

  “She loved to sit outside at night and stargaze. She’d point to different constellations, name them. Ursa Major, the big bear. Scorpius, the scorpion. She named me Orion after the hunter. You’re Leo, the lion.” Ryan pointed up to the constellation he was named after, made up of fifteen stars.

  Orion had been too odd a name for the locals and had soon become Ryan for everyone but their mother—and sometimes their father.

  Tonight there were no stars, no moon, invisible clouds crowded the sky. There is not a more perfect darkness in all the world than on a moonless, starless night in Oscuro, California. Ryan and Leo stared out into the ink. Their daddy was out on a call. He was the county sheriff, which wasn’t saying much, but there was a propensity for violence in this region, as if the spilled blood of massacred Kumeyaay Indians and the blood of those massacred by Kumeyaay were the source of some mysterious virus that caused short tempers and itchy trigger fingers.

  “Mighty dark out there,” Ryan said.

  Leo’s belly tingled at the mischief in his brother’s voice. “Like somebody painted the windows black.”

  “Feller’d have to be awful stupid to go out into that kind of a night.”

  “Or awful brave,” Leo said.

  “Oh, I don’t know anybody that brave.”

  “You know me, don’t you?”

  “You’re saying you’d go out in that?”

  “I would and I’m gonna,” Leo said. “And I dare you to do the same.”

  “You dare me?”

  “I double dare you.”

  “No flashlight?”

  “Nope. And barefoot.”

  Even Ryan paused at that condition. “Barefoot?”

  “Whatsamatter, big brother? Scared?”

  “Not even a little.”

  But they both were. They pictured the creatures that crept and crawled and slithered among the rocks and sand around their home. As Leo stepped toward the door he searched his mind for a way out of this challenge without losing face. He couldn’t help himself. Always felt the need to look tough in front of Ryan. Neither of them would ever refuse a dare.

  The linoleum floor in the kitchen was cool against the soles of their feet. Before stepping outside, Ryan turned off the porch light.

  The boys were blind. The world was suddenly snatched away, held behind some sinister being’s back.

  Leo closed his eyes then opened them. No difference. He waited to see if shapes would emerge once his eyes adjusted but none did. Ryan touched his shoulder and Leo jerked.

  “Easy, little brother.” The familiar voice was a small comfort.

  “We walk straight out. You get scared, you get hurt, you call my name. Got it?”

  Leo nodded, a useless gesture.

  “You got it?”

  “I got it.”

  “Then get goin’, tough guy.”

  One tentative step. Then another. The night was made of wind that swirled around him. From above, the windmill’s blades whirred. Leo moved into the deepest dark he’d ever known, dizzy without a horizon for reference. Only the rough ground under his toes. A creak as the wind shifted making the weathervane on top of their barn change direction.

  He pictured scorpions beneath every step. Did they come out at night? In the distance, a coyote howled. Maybe it was scared of the dark too. Would howling make him feel better? Where was Ryan? He wanted to call to him, just to see where he was, but realized he would lose the dare if he did.

  A few more steps. A sharp rock made him groan. He needed to pee. Could he just go for it right here? Why not? He unzipped, felt the wind on his privates, aimed his piss in the other direction. That’s better, he thought.

  Then the unmistakable sound of a snake’s rattle.

  Terror spread from his ears down his spine out to his limbs, to his fingers and toes. The dark suddenly close, he felt trapped. The stream of his urine slowed, hot drips hit his feet.

  Another rattle made the boy recoil but he’d lost his sense of direction, didn’t know where the snake was, didn’t know where home was, the sound seemed to be inside his head. He wanted to scream but sobs choked him. Where was Ryan? His eyes strained to see. He thought he heard the rattler slither toward him. When it rattled again, he finally gasped out his brother’s name.

  “Ryan?”

  The air reminded him of all his exposed parts, he wanted to lie in a fetal position, turn into a turtle, but he was too scared to move.

  Two fangs sank into the tight flesh above his ankle.

  Sometimes the actual thing we fear is not as bad as we think it will be. A rattlesnake bite is much worse. Because it is not over after the bite. The venom has work to do.

  Leo’s screams stabbed the night.

  The kitchen light came on, closer than Leo would ever have thought. Ryan’s silhouette approached, fast. It was hard for Leo to notice anything besides his pain.

  Ryan touched his brother’s shoulder. “Did he get you?”

  “It hurts, Ryan.”

  “Where is he?”

  The snake’s rattle answered him.

  Ryan fired his father’s shotgun at the creature.

  “Can you walk?”

  He tried. “It hurts.”

  “Okay.” Ryan put his arm around Leo to support him.

  The small light in their small house looked pitiful to Leo who winced as he limped with his brother’s help. One dim light, hopeless, in the middle of an ocean of darkness. Their nearest neighbors, the Potters, lived a bunch of miles south.

  “Wh
at are we going to do?”

  “Wait here?”

  “Where are you going?”

  Leo thought of his mother. Would that be all that remained of him? Some pictures on the wall. The memories of his father and brother. Would he be buried next to his mother, in the family plot? What would his tombstone read? Beloved son and brother?

  He heard the whine of the passenger door of his father’s old pickup opening. The dome light popped on. They called the truck Blue Thunder. Ryan dropped the shotgun and pulled and pushed his little brother into the seat. Leo looked at the puckered wound above his ankle, already swelling, the skin wrinkling and buckling strangely, like it had been doused with acid. Ryan slammed the door and ran to the driver’s side.

  When Ryan turned the key and hit the gas, the engine rumbled, living up to its nickname. Reluctantly it turned over and roared to life.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The hospital. You’re gonna be okay.”

  Ryan, tall for his age, could just reach the pedals. Their father taught him how to drive a few months ago so Ryan could help him maintain the fence that bordered their property. He’d never driven on the road before. He turned on the headlights and touched the gas. The steering wheel looked so big in his hands.

  Ryan followed the beams into the vastness in front of them, the dirt road eventually turned into pavement, the only proof that they weren’t on the moon or mars. Not another vehicle, not another light or structure in sight.

  Halfway there the adrenaline wore off and Ryan got sleepy. The truck drifted onto the rocky shoulder, startling him awake.

  Leo’s ankle swelled and the skin burned. He tried to watch where they were going but his vision blurred. He slipped in and out of consciousness. In his dreams his mother spoke to him, her voice familiar, almost forgotten, comforting. I should have been there for you, my sweet little boy.

  “You are here, Mom.”

  Her face was black-and-white, like her pictures, but sad.

  “Sing me a song.”

  Leo was startled when Ryan started to hum, My home’s in Montana. I wear a bandanna. My spurs are of silver. My pony is gray.

  “Do you hear her too?”

  To the west, strange lights, like tiny moons, appeared out of the night.

  “Holy crap,” Ryan said.

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve heard of them but never seen ’em before.”

  “What?”

  “They call them the San Diablo lights.”

  They floated, eerie and pale, vaporous, just above the horizon. Leo counted six.

  “What’s making them?”

  “Nobody knows. UFOs, some people say. The Indians thought they were fallen stars. Pretty spooky.”

  As they drove, the lights moved, changed shape and color. Was this a sign, Leo wondered, from the other side? Or a warning? He decided to take comfort in them, in their mystery. The lights followed him into his sleep, kept his darkest thoughts at bay.

  Leo woke to the sound of cars honking, the truck jerking. In Quicksilver, Ryan struggled to follow the street signs and lights, to stay inside the lines, there was too much to process. Leo looked at the speedometer. They were going fifteen miles per hour.

  His ankle was the size and shape of a football. His skin was the color of red coals and felt as hot.

  Were those tears in Ryan’s eyes?

  The world changed color, flashed blue and red, then blue again. A siren whined. A police car, right behind them. Ryan pulled over. Wiped his face with his sleeve.

  The cop was young, blonde hair cut military short. His shirt and pants were a bit too big. He tapped on the window. Ryan rolled it down.

  “You boys out for a joyride?”

  Ryan wept and pointed to his brother’s leg.

  The cop shined his flashlight on the wound. Sucked in a breath. “I’ll be right back.” He ran to his car, turned off the flashing lights and ran back to their truck. “Slide over, kid.”

  He gunned the engine. “Where you boys from?”

  “Oscuro,” Ryan said.

  “You two drove up here from Oscuro?”

  “I drove.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “Where’s mom and dad?”

  “Dad’s at work. He’s the sheriff.”

  The cop’s eyes widened. “You’re Jeremiah Murphy’s kids?”

  “Yes sir.”

  Up ahead Leo saw the Dairy Queen. The hospital was right next to it.

  “What are your names?”

  “I’m Ryan, this is Leo.”

  “I’m Glenn. Pleased to meet you. Leo, how you holdin’ up?”

  “Okay.”

  “You got a helluva brave brother. You know that?”

  The heat in Leo’s ankle moved to his chest. Pride. “Yes sir.”

  “Good. Not everyone’s brother woulda saved your life tonight.”

  They pulled into a place that said Ambulances Only. The looks of confusion on the hospital staff’s faces turned to focus and concern when they saw Leo’s wound. A huge black man in white scrubs lifted the boy out of the truck, speaking in a gentle voice, “Okay, son.” He placed Leo on a gurney. Ryan scooted out of the cab and stood next to his brother.

  “Howdy, Glenn. What we got here?”

  Glenn came around the truck. “Just what you see, Vernon. The snake bit one’s Leo. That’s his brother, Ryan.”

  Ryan looked up at Vernon. “Is my brother gonna be okay?”

  Vernon put a big paw on Ryan’s shoulder. “We’ve seen a lot worse than this, believe it or not. We’ll get him fixed up. Now follow me.” He pushed the gurney through the automatic doors of the hospital.

  Ryan turned back to Glenn. “You coming?”

  Glenn sighed. “I’m coming.”

  The hospital’s sudden brightness hurt Leo’s eyes, fluorescent light shouted against the too-white walls, and when he shut his eyes, he could still hear them buzz and hiss. Motion everywhere, rooms full of emergencies, the gurney wheels squealed like a maniac’s laughter through the hallways.

  It felt as though someone had taken an iron out of a fire and was holding it against his ankle. The pain and the lights made his eyes tear.

  “It hurts.”

  “It looks like it hurts, kid.”

  Leo tried to lift his head to see.

  Vernon gently pushed his chest down. “What you wanna do that for? Listen. You in the right place. Doc gonna fix you up. You’ll be dancing outta here.”

  “I can’t dance.”

  “Not yet.”

  Behind them, Ryan and Glenn followed, Glenn with his arm around the teenager.

  Vernon brought them into a room with a bed and some chairs.

  “Here we go.” He lifted Leo onto the bed, adjusted it so his back was raised.

  “Shouldn’t we lift the leg?” Glenn said.

  “Not for a snake bite, Deputy.”

  Glenn nodded.

  “Okay then. Doc’ll be here directly. Might see a nurse or two. They’ll treat you right. They don’t, you tell ol’ Vernon about it.” He lifted a device with buttons on it. “Something serious happens, you buzz the nurse, here.” An orange button with a cartoon nurse.

  Ryan said, “How do we know if it’s serious?”

  “You’ll know. Don’t worry, Leo. You’ll feel better soon. We’ll work on those dance moves.” While they waited, Glenn made a phone call, twisting the rotary dial as fast as it would go. He spoke to a woman named Maggie about getting hold of their father. Doctor Helfrick arrived a minute later. He resembled a slender Santa Claus, with a well-trimmed snowy beard framing his smile. “Guns and snakes. Two things boys shouldn’t play with.” He looked at the chart. “Which one of y’all’s Leo?”

  Leo looked at him like he was crazy. “I am, Doctor.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Good.” His eyes were so blue, they were almost colorless. He winked at the boy. “Well what the hell happened?”

  “Got the wrong end of a rattler.”

  “Looks like it.” He inspected the wound with a sour expression. “Yup. That’s just what happened. How’s your vision?” He pulled a pen light out of his coat pocket and clicked it on.