CHAPTER NINE1THE GREASE-YELLOWED WALL clock above the griddle read 11:20 AM when Officers Clemency and Crider walked into the café for their order. Meg Bilobran saw them enter and retrieved their sandwiches from behind the counter, a Reuben and a turkey club on sourdough, and then met them at the cash register. With a weary smile, she handed the paper bag to the uniformed black man, the deputy chief.“Here ya go, fellas, all ready. How are things, Palm?”“Oh, same old same old. Can’t complain. Mm-hmm. You look tired, Meg.”“Morris, my cook, and Jilly Sweet both called off, so I’m runnin’ the gauntlet by myself today. Running being the key word. Nothing sweet about it, either. Ha. So how are you, Bobby? How’s that pregnant wife of yours holdin’ up?”The younger and newer of the two officers grinned. “She’s holding fine, Mrs. Bilobran. We’re just waiting and hanging on.”“How many times I told you, babes? Call me Meg. Anything else for ya?”Palm Clemency ordered a couple of lar

CHAPTER ELEVEN1DEPUTY CHIEF CLEMENCY and Bobby Crider ate their lunches on the bench in front of the Public Safety Building. Crider took a bite of turkey club, watching as someone mowed the Post Office’s narrow strip of lawn across Elm Street, mulching leaves as they went. A squad car glided to the curb, blocking his view, and Chief Priewe got out.“How we doing, boys?”“Chief,” said Clemency. The younger officer could only nod, his mouth filled with sourdough bread. “You aren’t eating? Meg’s being generous today: my Reuben really got loaded up on the corned beef and Swiss here.”“I’ll grab something later. Listen, I want—”Priewe stepped back from the sidewalk, just missing Karl Kissick as he sailed by on a skateboard, student book bag slung over him like a full parachute pack, clicking away heedlessly at his Game Boy. The kid glanced up for a second before returning his attention to the handheld game as he rolled past.“Hey, stay off the walks!” Priewe barked. “Goddamn kid.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN1JULIAN EXCUSED HIMSELF and was at last able to slip away inside his church. He needed solitude, just a brief respite from their tedium and banalities before the commencement at hand: the setting in motion of it all—faith against doubt, and everything that would follow. Besides, William Salt would occupy them, keep them assuaged with food and drink until he returned.He made his way slowly, achingly, feeling the corrosions of his own body, the shrinking of his bones. Each day he applied the pepperwort and menthol for their deep heating attributes, but they did little good. This vessel was at its end, was breaking down and deteriorating with every step he took—twice already had the heart stopped beating, once upon the operating table during a routine knee replacement procedure and once while shoveling snow from the front walkway of Nain Trinity Lutheran. Twice he had waited patiently, hidden within, prepared to abscond and move on to another if necessary, and twice

“THEY POISON THE HEART”by Michelle Brooke Deadmond(an excerpt)Those that bled out and died quickly were among the lucky, they who never knew what hit them. All up and down the Mississippi near the mouth of Bad Axe River their frantic drums sounded. No one came, though, no allies rose to the call—promises of British assistance were not kept. Even when a second white flag of surrender was hoisted in desperation, the slaughter continued unabated, insatiably. Thus had begun the~~ Fugue ~~History tells us there were numerous other skirmishes leading up to this, before the end came for them at the Battle of Bad Axe that summer. In May of 1832, appointed war chief Black Hawk and his dwindling band of followers scored a surprise victory over drunken, attacking, and then abruptly fleeing soldiers at Old Man’s Creek, in what would shamefully come to be known later as Stillman’s Run.This spark ignited the fire, and the Black Hawk War was on.It’s said that a green, 23-year-old captai

CHAPTER SIXTEEN1NAIN TRINITY LUTHERAN’S chapel was filled and Glee Deadmond had them in the palm of her hand. Studio lights on tripods illuminated her, while a camera operator kept her in frame, directed by a second man in a white short-sleeve shirt and tie. There was a hanging backdrop of crushed muslin with the words THE GLEE CLUB—WE ARE UNANIMOUS IN THIS! emblazoned in gold, and Glee wore a wireless mic clipped to her lapel so she could move about unencumbered before it.To one side of this was the brightly lit oratory, the church’s choir at attention within. They had opened services with a hymn: “All the Earth Will Sing for Joy”, and Richard recognized the leggy young girl with the yellow ten-speed from yesterday as one of the satin-robed singers.Glee spoke with a natural ease, addressing the congregation as if accustomed to doing so her entire life. She had started off haltingly, gaining steam as she engaged them on the necessity of healthcare for seniors, and local job gro