Return of the Devil's Spawn by John Moore

Author:John Moore [Moore, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Helenia Media
Published: 2018-01-07T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen:

Rebirth

We’d just signed an agreement that put Tom and me in a sink or swim position. I had to admit to myself that I had reservations. We didn’t know anything about farming, except what I’d learned as a child about corn, and organic farming was a horse of a different color. But my inner voice nudged me to sign the purchase agreement. Was that my mother trying to get me back on a farm or the universe telling me organic farming was the right thing for me to do? It didn’t matter at this point, because the agreement was signed and we were committed to succeeding or losing everything. OK, I could admit to myself that I was scared, but fear wasn’t always a bad thing. I’d heard someone say that bravery was feeling the fear but doing it anyway. God, I hoped they were right. I would soon find out if I were brave or dumb.

We were all so excited about buying a farm that we didn’t talk about Clint’s death. I did think about him before I went to sleep, and was a little sad remembering him sitting at his desk, in charge, in the middle of his life, and then—bam. Gone. One less soul on earth.

Was he a good man or a bad man? I couldn’t decide, but then it came to me: He was, like most people, a mixture of both. Surely there were people who would miss him and mourn his passing. After all, a group of jazz musicians paraded down Bourbon Street honoring his life, but I wondered more what impact he had had on the world, and what impact his death would have. Without Clint, no one was around to stand in Victor’s way. I went to sleep knowing I would have to deal with three of the devil’s spawn: Victor, Rogan, and the Quarter Killer.

Morning shined its bright light in the Quarter, bringing to life all of the slow-moving early-morning activity. It was a new day with new tasks to accomplish, and the first task was for me to drink a cup of Community Coffee on the balcony. Tom joined me as we watched the sun conquer the night.

“Tom,” I said. “I forgot to ask about the explosion at the ACC plant. Did you find out anything?”

“It was confined to one section of the plant, but a horrific explosion from what I heard,” Tom said. “One person was killed, but I don’t know any other details.”

“That’s awful,” I said. “Maybe the tragedy will shine some light on ACC’s activities. Was anyone ever able to prove the leak you detected came from that plant?”

Tom cocked his head to the left and shook it side to side. “No, and now I’m afraid they never will.”

“So when do you think we can close on the land in LaPlace? I am ready to get my hands in some dirt,” I said. “You know I’m handy with a tractor. I drove my dad’s tractor all the time as a child, tilling the soil and planting corn.

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