Up Pops the Devil

By Louisa Dang

A break-in leaves a pregnant woman and young boy in dire straits. A teenage girl tries to hide from her past in Vietnam. A couple grapple with cancer... Bittersweet, unpredictable, strange...even the Tarot makes an appearance. Check it out!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Louisa Dang
• Release date: Jan 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370583225

Louisa Dang

Louisa is a freelance writer and editor. She's done just about every kind of writing under the sun, including technical writing and newspaper reporting. She's also been a fact checker and copy editor for Our State magazine and has taught English at the college level. She lives in North Carolina with her family and a crazy Jack Russell mix who is 16 years old and still going strong!

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Up Pops the Devil

By

Louisa J. Dang

Up Pops the Devil

Copyright © 2017 by Louisa J. Dang at Smashwords

This book is the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial use without permission from the author. Quotes used in reviews are the exception. No alteration of content is allowed. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to buy a copy. Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Table of Contents

Up Pops the Devil

The Mood Detectives

Moon River

Viet

What’s for Dinner?

Sidewalk Vision

Traveling Textiles

Human for a Day

About the Author

Up Pops the Devil

Lara had been dreaming about being in a white wooden cradle. Nathan sat back and jerked it with his foot, but she lay on her back perfectly still, staring at the swirls carved in the wood.

When the crunching sound filtered through her consciousness, then the thump of footfalls, she was barely awake, still half-believing she was in the cradle. She opened her eyes; Nathan stood by the window, holding back the white gingham curtain. The lights flicked on, and Lara pushed herself up.

A group of men—fat, tall, skinny, broad, black, and white—stood in the doorway. Three of them grabbed Nathan by the elbows and dragged him out into the hall. Nathan groaned, and Lara held her stomach.

You stay here. An old man pointed his rifle at her. She could see directly down the small black opening of the barrel. A young man, about 16, stood with him at the corner of the bed, watching her with wide eyes.

Shouting started in the room next door—the baby’s bedroom, not yet painted. The old man handed the kid a pistol and jerked his head at Lara. Then he ran into the hall; the voices grew louder – Where’s the goddamn money? – and then quieter.

The kid was African-American, wearing a red tee shirt and jeans. His hands shook as he held the gun at eye-level, probably copying someone he’d seen on TV. Lara’s stomach rumbled and she put a hand on her belly, wishing she’d remembered to put the crackers by her bed. The clock said 4:30 a.m. Usually the time she had to go to the bathroom.

Gun shots fired, and the kid darted into the hall. Lara climbed out of bed and felt under it for her old flannel slippers. When she stood up, the kid was back in the room, his face gray.

What happened? Lara reached for the robe at the bottom of the bed. What happened to my husband?

They shot my cousin, the boy said. He lowered the gun and pointed it at the floor.

What happened to Nathan? Lara pulled on the robe.

He…he jumped out the window.

Their home was a three-story farmhouse; Nathan would be dead or paralyzed. Lara stared at the floor; the knots in the pine were like eyes blinking back at her.

The boy leaned over and rested his hands on the footboard. He looked like he was going to throw up. Lara slipped the gun out of his hand; it was wet. She stuck the gun in her robe pocket. From the other room, men shouted and more shots fired. The boy started to cry.

Lara took his arm. Let’s get out of here.

He wiped his nose on the back of his hand. They’ll kill us.

They’re going to kill us anyway.

She dragged him into the hall, past the closed door and the scuffles of men fighting. They ran down the stairs, out the back door. Lara pulled the boy behind her, and he stumbled over the concrete stepping stones and followed her down the grass path towards the tobacco barn. It was dark, but she could tell the way even with her eyes closed. The dogs were quiet in the barn—either dead or drugged. They passed a grey van with Tennessee plates and she wondered if Nathan’s fighting cocks were already in cages in the back.

Behind the barn, parked beside a crepe myrtle bush, was Nathan’s old Nissan, the keys still in the ignition from when he’d driven it to town three months ago to get it inspected. The boy sat sniffing in the passenger’s seat, staring at Lara as she tried to start up the engine.

Come on, come on… The thing was ancient, but the engine still good. Gunshots sounded in the darkness, and a man’s voice reverberated in the damp air. The engine sputtered and whined.

Lara kept the lights off and drove behind the barn, around a pile of firewood Nathan had started a few days ago, and through the dip where their land turned into Mr. Finney’s 60 acres. He would be asleep in his farmhouse up over Banker’s Hill.

They bumped over molehills and tree stumps. Lara didn’t know what they would do if a tire went out, or if she accidentally drove into one of those holes Mr. Finney kept digging, looking for Civil War artifacts. But finally they made it to the dirt road at the other side of the field, and she pressed hard on the gas.

Slow down, the boy cried, holding onto the door.

I know these roads, Lara said.

She turned left onto the two-lane highway, and the back wheels squealed as she spun the steering wheel. The road curved like a snake’s back. No one was about, and she took the turns wide, crossing the yellow line like a drunk.

After a few minutes, the boy turned in his seat. I think I see them. Lara looked for the first time in the rear view mirror, and saw two yellow circles. She pressed harder on the pedal and said the Lord’s