Dog Days of Summer (Damned of the 2/19th Book Four) - Finished

History Can Always Repeat Itself

Chehalis River Bridge

Centralia, Washington

United States of America

9 August, 1986

0215 Hours

        Reggie Doutree walked in front of me, his hands bound behind his back with 550 cord, a gag made of his own shirt in his mouth, and a two foot line of 550 cord binding his ankles togther to keep him from running. In my right hand I held the Ka-Bar I'd taken from my cousin by force, in my left hand I held the end of the rope that swung between Reggie and me before arcing up his back and ending in the noose I'd tied in front of him.

        Our footsteps thudded on the bridge as we walked toward the middle of it, and I could see he was sweating in the cool night air. Above us was just a hangnail of a moon, a tiny sliver that probably did little for Reggie, walking in front of me, or Briana, walking behind me. Myself, my night vision was good, and I was already charged up, the little lizard in the back of my skull making sure I absorbed all the details.

        "That's far enough." I told him, pulling on the rope. He stumbled to a stop. "Face the edge." I ordered. His shoulders had slumped when I held him down and put the noose around his neck. He had tried struggling when I first moved him to the truck, back in the ER parking lot, but I'd man-handled him to the truck, slammed his head against the tailgate to stun him, then tore off his shirt to gag him. When he struggled after that, I'd taken the time to break one of his fingers.

        He'd gone through four before he got it into his thick head that he wasn't in control and nobody was coming to save him.

        The rope whispered as I threw it up in the air and it flew up over the steel girder before falling back down. I hauled on it, forcing Reggie to head toward the edge of be lifted off the ground. He struggled, briefly, madly, but when I hauled him up on his tiptoes, his air getting cut off, to the count of ten, he stopped.

        "In 1919, members of the IWW attacked the American Foreign Legion as they marched, shooting and killing unarmed veterans marching to celebrate Armstice Day." I said conversationally. "In the marchers was members of my family as well as Briana's." I smiled at Briana, who smiled back, her face no longer pale.

        Something had changed in the blonde woman. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were sparkling as she watched me haul on the rope to lift Reggie up on his tiptoes before I continued.

        "One of the men who cowardly shot at the men marching was named Everest, who first mortally wounded one of the men chasing him, and then cowardly returned to pistol whip a dying man." I hauled on the rope again to the count of ten. "The next night, persons unknown, including members of Briana and my families, broke into the jail, pulling Everest out, and took him here."

        Briana nodded. We all grew up on the story, which had happened to our grandfather's, had heard it from the time we were babes in arms.

        "And here they hung him. A coward's death." I looked at Briana and saw her eyes glowing softly in the darkness. She was breathing fast, and I could see her nipples were erect under her shirt.

        The Aine blood coming through.

        Briana stared at me as I moved in front of her, keeping tension on the rope. I stared her in her eyes, then held out the rope to her. "This man thinks that our girls are victims, and that he may touch them without permission, abuse them like farm animals You know, as well as I do, what blood demands, what your mother would demand we do to a man who dare touch a girl of our families."