2. Dust

Second Revision

 “I hate that son of a b***h!” Knowlan bellowed as he trudged back and forth, sharply turning on the heels of his boots. Enraged breaths pounded out in frozen clouds, “I'll kill him if he ever comes back here! That stupid f****t thinks-”

Janie stilted up onto the tips of her toes and clapped one hand over his mouth,“Shut up! If I hear that word one more time I swear...”

Knowlan's response was a snort of disapproval. He ground his teeth and flopped down onto a milk crate beside the mailbox. Yanking off his hat he raked his fingers through a tangle of long hair before slipping it back into place. Then he turned away from her. His posture hunched forward in a pout. Janie rolled her eyes. She wasn't dressed for this occasion. Had she anticipated standing in slush the woman could have done better than skinny jeans and sandals.

Although awkward she felt a bit of relief in silence. Kurt and Knowlan's little go-round left her unsettled to imagine what could have happened had Michelle not intervened. Slowly, he peered over his shoulder. Janie appeared out of thin air one day having traveled from the west like an oasis. Now she was settled into a quaint apartment on 6^th street. Despite the frequent badgering of her younger brother she had no intention of returning home. It wasn't long before Knowlan couldn't stand the sight of her chilled dance any longer. It was the unmistakable jig of a tourist.

Clutching the rim of her belt he yanked the woman off her feet and into his lap. He laughed at her startled yelps. His arms quickly coiled around her quivering frame to pull her close and though Janie tried to object she soon snuggled into the warmth. Her boyfriend wasn't particularly romantic but he knew what she needed when she needed it.

Her nose wrinkled at the scent his jacket carried, “What are we doing out here? Can't we wait inside?”

“It won't be long now.”

“Please don't 'work' today. I don't ever want to go back to that place again. It isn't safe...”

“Quit being so dramatic.” One finger stroked down the edge of her jawline. Her bright eyes were dull with worry. Janie's curvaceous body rested heavily on his knees and she could feel the rising beat of his heart, “Don't you want me to get paid? I'll take you and Todd out to the firing range afterward.”

She bounced up in sudden excitement. Knowlan flashed a toothy grin, “Be careful though; if he's anything like me he might start getting a crush. I've never seen a girl shoot a 9 mm like you can.”

“Todd's a bit young for my taste,” Janie laughed.

Their banter was interrupted when a car pulled in close to the mailbox. The pristine Jaguar was black as its tinted windows and more ominous and foreboding than elegant. Knowlan ushered Janie up. Quickly, he approached the driver's side window. It rolled down to reveal a loathsome pair within.

“Don't just stand there looking stupid. Get in! You're lucky we drove all this way to pick your lazy a*s up. Don't count on it next time!”

The shrill, harping tone came from the woman perched shotgun. Her name was Sharon Adams though everyone simply referred to her as 'Coyote'. Perhaps it was because she resembled that namesake. Dark, splotchy skin was stretched over a malnourished frame and thick, coffee colored hair sat about her head in a messy ponytail. She nearly rivaled him in height. A single slap of her giant, manish hands was kin to getting struck with a brick.

Nodding anxiously, Knowlan opened the back door and pulled Janie's body in beside him. He honestly hadn't expected them to come at all, “Was Drake busy? I mean... I called him not you guys.”

The driver matched Sharon's aura of wrathful pride. Both pupils were so glassy and dilated they consumed all color around them. He stared pointedly into the rear view mirror with such irritation that Knowlan flinched down into his seat. A slick of ebony hair was greased down against his head hiding no part of his olive colored, square jawed face, “Drake non ha tempo per voi!”

Knowlan looked to Sharon for assistance. Drake was something of an idol to him. One day Knowlan hoped to supersede him and take over the business like a son would his father. Generally, Drake stayed hulled up in his room. He was seen only in scarce blips when he roamed the house to check on progress and report to those above him. Though, after several months, he developed an interest in Knowlan. Once or twice a week they sat down together over dinner as Drake tried teaching the younger man his native tongue.

He felt radiant and important because of this. Knowlan skipped about the house rattling off what little he knew. When possible he struck up conversations with his peers like a child learning their first ABCs. These two, however, did not hold him so favorably. They used ignorance to speak foul of him right beneath his crooked nose. They strung together complicated, formal sentences which they knew Knowlan couldn't decipher.

“Dane said Drake is busy working right now,” Sharon spat.

“Voglio uccidere questo idiota,” Dane snarled as he shifted his car into drive and turned to face her. The pair then burst into laughter.

Knowlan leaned forward and narrowed his brows in distaste, “Laugh it up, a*****e. At least I can speak English. You need a translator just to order fast food around here.”

Sharon swung her arm and issued a few hard slaps. She effectively whooped Knowlan back into submission against the door. Dane turned sharply onto the highway and they sped off toward Kettle Falls. The next town over was even smaller and more desolate than Colville. It was ravaged by poverty and alcoholism. Janie hummed to push away the churning nervousness in her stomach.

Knowlan watched rolling hills and long, expansive fields glide past. They were dotted with fences, barns, and livestock but otherwise his view was primarily of grassy cliffs. Before long they came upon the dusty little village. Erected near the entrance was a wooden sign which boasted a dismal population of 1,200. Dane hung a left at the only stoplight in town. Beyond a few tight switchbacks a cluster of pines lined either side of Drake's gravel driveway. It twisted down to a lonely, two story house.

Pulling up to the fence Dane looked around with a face now blunt and emotionless. Tiny bits of ire showed through involuntary twitches. The innocent looking picket fence met at a gate and archway out front. It was decorated with ornate elk horns all tied together with braided hemp.

“Listen up,” Sharon snapped as they got out. “Drake's had a s**t day so get what you need and get out. Don't annoy him with your lame jokes or long, rambling stories.”

Knowlan watched Dane kick his brother's gate open. To argue with her was pointless. Sharon was a goddess of verbal assault. Sometimes her bullying was so severe that he wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Janie looked up as she walked, marveling at the upstairs window. The intricate stained glass portrayed an image of two ravens racing opposite directions like a yin-yang. Between them they guarded the sun and crescent moon.

Sharon gave Janie a weighted shove as she entered the house. She then pointed at a beaded curtain behind them. Startled Janie just stared. The offensive, older woman snatched up her wrist and shoved her through without explanation. Four men were huddled close along a leather sectional in the living room. They wailed together in laughter meanwhile taking syncopated drinks from shot glasses of polished crystal. All four looked up at once. Their black eyes blinked like raccoons in a bush.

“Wait here. You have no business upstairs.”

Janie was abandoned there when Sharon walked away. She hugged herself and shook. One by one the men cracked devious grins. They whispered amongst themselves in their common language like secret code. One hand slithered out to clutch the back of her thigh. The lot of them erupted once more into rapturous laughter when she cried out and slapped it away. Janie collapsed into an armchair and listened to the footsteps passing softly overhead.

Knowlan and Sharon stopped at the first door on the left but Dane waved apathetically and continued on. His room was empty aside from a cluster of dirty dishes and clothes hanging from a curtain rod. Sharon knocked and patiently awaited a reply. Bits of stirring sounded within.

“Entrare, Coyote.”

Bookcases took up three of the four walls in Drake's room. Most the shelves were filled with composition notebooks, loose-leaf papers, drawings, and recipes. On his bed a dog slept. The thick and powerful beast was a bluenose pit. His ears had been neatly cropped close to his head for a look of intimidation but it was contradicted by the sweetness of his resting expression. Drake stood near the window to gaze outside. There was no greeting. Instead he thumbed through the pages of a notebook spayed out in his hand.

Sharon's behavior changed the instant they came into contact with someone of authority. She buzzed about pretending to preen and baby Knowlan, “Knowlan's here to see you. I told him it was out of his way but he insisted. The poor boy was sitting outside in the snow when we picked him up!”

If a look could kill Knowlan's glare would have set her ablaze. Sharon paused and peered across the room. She eagerly awaited praise.

“Leave us.”

Her eyes sharpened as she stepped out and pulled the door closed behind her.

“I didn't ask you to come here today.”

Drake wasn't pleased, displeased, or seeming to feel much at all. His tone was lifeless. He was merely observing the oddness of Knowlan coming in on a day off. Wringing his hands Knowlan awkwardly shrugged, “Did you get a chance to weigh the stock from last week? It was great. I didn't sleep or anything. Your cousins and I just worked and worked and-”

“Coyote said you never showed up so she and Dane had to make up for your absence.”

A hot rush of anger flooded Knowlan. He felt so bitterly that he wanted to start kicking and smashing everything in eye shot. Instead he hyperventilated breaths and shook without capacity to respond.

“Relax, hoss. I wasn't born yesterday. You're not the only one she lies to.” Drake then clasped the book closed and turned to face his young visitor. For once he was grinning. A section of dark hair which had once been combed back now hung freely into his face. He drifted over to the nightstand beside his bed. Resting atop it was a metal box painted black with the lid sitting ajar. Knowlan gasped and averted his eyes. Surprisingly, Drake beckoned him near.

Drake's box was something of a curiosity to those who knew him. It had it's own intricate lore. This started up because Drake himself was a legend. Some believed it contained fantastical drugs not yet tested by man. Coyote thought he had such a heightened tolerance to substance that he was immune to drugs and that he created this 'black box' to distract everyone else from finding out. Knowlan, however, knew the truth.

Drake pushed every drug he came into contact with to a point of functional mastery. There was no flavor of high which could satisfy him anymore. All creativity and adventure was lost. He wasn't immune to drugs so much as bored with them. Knowlan approached and looked nervously upon the fabled box. There were rows and pockets in the satin lining each was filled with little bags like the ark of Noah containing two of every kind.

There were sativas and indicas, crystal shards, pills grouped in rainbows of color, and black tar rocks. Gingerly, Drake lifted a bag from the center. It was filled to the brim with crushed white powder brighter and more radiant than the dusting of snow outside. With it he retrieved a tiny silver spoon. Knowlan watched hungrily. Drake scooped out a sizable bit and handed the spoon off to him. Without thinking he took it into his large hand which made the utensil look like a doll house prop. He plugged one side of his crooked nose and pulled the contents up into the other.

A sharp wince was followed by a relieved exhale. The terrible burning spiked adrenaline. Quickly, it faded and Knowlan gave his head a shake.

“Yes I weighed it; you cooked so much that we're in surplus now. Your efforts haven't gone unnoticed. They never do.”

Drake filled the spoon again and again as many times as Knowlan would take it from him. The teen's favorite euphoria invaded upon him in a heavy rush. His fingers trembled as he licked his lips and chattered his teeth manically. Both legs gave respective shudders as his worries, troubles, and fears melted down into the floor. Everything faded to nothing. It wasn't until he had seven sizable hits that Knowlan realized what he was doing.

“F**k. Oh s**t. Thank you. I mean it thank you. I'm not supposed to be doing this right now though. No more.”

“Oh?”

Anxiety clawed through Knowlan's bliss. It sent him up and down in a confusing mood swing, “Janie is downstairs. She doesn't like me doing ice so I promised her I'd quit. That's my new years resolution or whatever.”

Drake's chest rose and fell in a sharp, irritated breath, “I spent a long time training you, Knowlan. I've invested a lot into you. Don't make it all for nothing.”

“I'm not going anywhere! I'll keep making it but I can't spin anymore. It isn't a big deal...”

Lifting out the insert which contained the bulk of his supply Drake set it onto his bed. It revealed another layer into the deeper reaches of the box. Out from there came an envelope which was sealed shut and bulging at either side, “That's cute. How many times have we tried that? I believe we're up to four.”

“I'm serious this time!” Knowlan asserted.

Nodding Drake took one of Knowlan's hands and rested the envelope into it, “If anyone asks tell them I paid out standard. I don't have the patience for drama today. It's twenty-five hundred.”

“Thank you,” Knowlan whispered.

Drake then sealed the baggie and laid it too on the envelope, “Take this in case you change your mind. If you're really serious then just sell it and pocket the money. A nice woman might seem important, Knowlan, but it was a woman who brought down the Garden of Eden. Remember that.”

Knowlan turned for the door, but not before Drake could clutch the back of his jacket. There was one final order of business. He handed over the notebook he'd been holding. Knowlan crammed Drake's other gifts into the pocket of his jeans. Hurriedly, he held the book with more care than he'd give to an infant. Drake leaned in close enough that his breath was felt against the side of Knowlan's face, “Take that home, flip to page 25, and tell me what you think.”

He couldn't understand what had gotten into Drake. His boss was a secretive man. Drake guarded his room with lock and key. Simply to touch one of his books was asking to lose a finger. Now he was handing one over like it was nothing.

“I know what you're capable of because I made you. On that page is a recipe I designed. It could be the final result of all these years I've spent planning. There's big payout to be had. No one can try it before I do, though, and someone has to make it for me. You'll be rewarded handsomely for doing so.”

Knowlan hugged the book against his chest, “I'll do anything you want, Drake.”

“Look over it first and I'll see you this weekend.”

He was suddenly ushered out the door. Just as there was no greeting Drake didn't say goodbye. Once shaken from this captivating enigma Knowlan made a rush for the stairs. There was no sign of Dane and he dared not let Sharon catch glimpse of this holy grail. It was slipped into his jacket for safekeeping. Downstairs he parted the curtain of beads and leaned into Drake's living room. Sharon stomped about yelling at the top of her lungs.

The four men on the couch were reduced to quivering children. One lifted his hand and uttered something but Sharon kept on her tirade. Feeling the wight of a stare, she twisted her head up to see Knowlan, “Well?”

Quickly, he adopted the most dejected look he could muster, “Drake gave me half the standard and told me to get the f**k out. I guess you were right about the kind of day he's been having. Just... take us home okay? I'm sorry I bothered.”

A cold grin pulled over her dark lips.

Janie wasted no time leaping up to escape this verbal barrage. Sharon shoved past them to the front door; it soothed her the lullaby of someone else's misery. Knowlan paused a moment to touch his bulging pocket. It was full with money and crank. Guilt struck deep inside him. He didn't have the willpower to sell it like Drake suggested. Peering upward he took one last look at the colorful window and faintly visible figure standing beside it. Drake's hand lifted in a wave.

Author's Note

Please comment on whatever you like. I always appreciate grammar suggestions and caught typos where I missed them. Also, I like to hear which characters you like/ dislike. If you catch plot holes, unrealistic scenarios, or things that pulled you out of the flow please tell me.

Reviews

[Darkocean]

Hi :D

I found that this was hard to read and I had to read it twice consider rewording it so it flows more:

Yanking off his hat he raked his fingers through a tangle of long hair before slipping it back into place

possible edit: Yanking off his hat he raked his fingers through his tangled long hair

It changes the meaning a bit, but not much. I think it reads better.

Avoid over using the word -then- as it makes the narrator (you) more visible. consider doing:

Yanking off his hat he raked his fingers through his tangled long hair. Turning way from her he hunched forward in a pout.

The word pout would be a great place to dive in deeper to the character and show more.

Example:

Yanking off his hat he raked his fingers through his tangled long hair. Turning way from her he hunched forward, crossed his arms. How could she? Hmph!

Pov violation:

Janie rolled her eyes.

Just who's head are we in right now? If he turned around he can't know she rolled her eyes.

Another one: She wasn't dressed for this occasion. Had she anticipated standing in slush the woman could have done better than skinny jeans and sandals.

Don't break who's head your in per scene or readers will get jarred out.

I'm sorry I haven't been on in in a while my life gets pretty hectic some days.

That's enough for now I advise looking at every chapter and making sure that it's one character per scene (that means chapter) If not sure just think logically. "Can my character see, hear, smell, know, taste, this?" If not it's a pov jump.

If it is not possible for the character to "show" or know a bout it then it is most likely a need for a short tell to move things along. Not always mind you but if it keeps you from getting stuck then do it. Like with my vine tower, it finally occurred to me to have the main baddies directing it, and moving it around so that someone else is seeing it besides the unfortunate villagers. (lol) Before that though it was in pure tell (still is in this site and wattpad but i've been working on it in my head. :P )

[Darkocean]

Hi, I'm checking back and saw that you wanted me to read this chapter. I'll come back later tonight when i've the time.