One of Us Page 15

“Can I run on all fours?”

  He smiled. “That’s the idea.”

  Enoch threw himself at the ground and landed in a crouch.

  “Well, butter my ass and call me toast,” Archie said.

  The creeper grinned at the prospect of a good run and bounded into the trees. Gaines smiled too as the kid set off. Working with creepers had always been a source of some shame to him. Not this morning. His boy was actually impressed his daddy knew creepers and had a good handle on them.

  And to think Archie hadn’t wanted to come along. He’d wanted to sleep in. Kids today were all soft. They wanted everything given over on a silver platter while they slept through the delivery. Youth really was wasted on the young.

  The hunters spread out and followed the dog boy into the woods.

  “How are things at school?” Gaines said.

  Archie shrugged. “It’s school.”

  “You keeping up with your studies?”

  “I try real hard, Daddy. I still ain’t no good at science, but I’m doing great in math this year. Health class is a hoot.”

  Gaines scanned the woods. He’d lost sight of the dog boy, who’d disappeared in the undergrowth. “What about the other kids? You getting along?”

  Another shrug. “Yeah.”

  “Yeah, what?”

  “Well, there’s this girl I like, but she don’t like me.”

  “You’ll find another one. Plenty of fish in the world.”

  “But this one is perfect.”

  Gaines snorted. “I very much doubt that.”

  “I sometimes don’t think there’s somebody just for me, that’s all.”

  “Thinking that way is natural at your age,” Gaines told him. “Funny thing about the young. You think your life will go on forever but never think you have enough time to live it. You kids have no sense of time nor patience at all.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Archie said.

  “What about the boys at the school? Your friends.”

  “They’re a little out there, but they’re okay.”

  “How about the preacher’s boy?” Gaines said. “I heard he was the one bopped you in the nose and put you on your ass.”

  Archie let out a nervous laugh. “That what you heard? That boy got a lick in, but I bopped him good. Laid him out. Ask anybody.”

  “All right, I will.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m gonna ask that boy you pal around with. The Fulcher boy.”

  “You mean Dan.”

  “That’s the one,” Gaines said. “I’ll ask him.”

  “He’ll tell you what I said.”

  “Never mind. I won’t ask him.”

  “Okay,” Archie said.

  “Because I know a cracker when I see one, Archibald.”

  When Gaines was a kid, he’d had his share of fights. Simpler times. You played together over the long summers, exploring creeks and climbing trees, until somebody got sore and declared war. That’s how he got smacked with a wood plank and ended up with a lazy eye. At the time, he considered it a badge of honor.

  Being a grown-up proved a lot more complicated. Honor rested on shifting sands. Money and property were the new badges. People fought with words and betrayals instead of fists. His lazy eye became a source of shame. Folks sure did love to pick at old scabs. They smelled your weak spots and brought them up in passing like noting the weather. Little puffs here and there to see how strong the house of cards you built.

  Being an adult was pecking and trying not to get pecked, trying not to be the one at the bottom, the one everybody else got to ride. A kid could always fight his way out of that, but not adults. Lord, how he wished he’d never grown up.

  “You get a chance at him again, you take it,” Gaines said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t yes-sir me. It ain’t for me, it’s for you.”

  “I’ll bop him good next time,” Archie said.

  “No more cracker talk. It’s okay if you lose. Just give him a good fight and earn his respect. If you don’t, you’ll live with it forever. You’ll never respect yourself.”

  Gaines wanted to tell his good-for-nothing kid to man up. Fight like a man. No, not that. Men fought dirty. No, Archie should fight like a kid. Kids fought like knights of old, shook hands, and ended up friends at the end of it.

  As long as he didn’t fight like a woman, he thought. Anything but that. Nobody fought like them. They didn’t hurt you. They nuked you and laughed at your ashes. He could attest to that through hard personal experience.

  Darlene had buck teeth and a high forehead, but to Gaines she’d been the living Venus. He’d loved watching her shake her ass in her tight uniform while she served the customers at Belle’s Diner. Loved the way she smiled as she poured his coffee, like the pouring itself was some special thing between them, embedded with private meaning. She married him to get out of the diner and had his baby because that’s what you did. Then she realized the whole thing wasn’t about to answer all her childish dreams and ran off to chase them in California, leaving him with no savings in the bank and a boy to raise.

  Sally Albod wanted to do the same thing to him. She wanted to get him on the hook so she could stomp him for sport. Come out to the Home and lead him on just so she could later tell him to his face that said face made her puke. That he had a stupid eye. That she liked monster kids better than him.

  Meaner than a wet panther. He’d never suffered anything like that verbal beating. Even Darlene walking out had been kinder and less cruel. Gaines felt like he understood Sucker Punch, the way people came at him. Only instead of seeing the swing, he always missed it. He never saw the angle, his bum eye always on the ground.

  Today, he’d teach her a lesson she’d never forget. He wasn’t going to play her game of bait and switch. He could fight dirty, too. Show her who’s boss. The sun didn’t come up just to watch her crow.

  Archie started to say something, but Gaines waved at him to keep quiet. They entered a glade thick with Indian grass, briar thickets on the other side. Enoch bounded around the clearing.

  If only you didn’t talk, Gaines thought looking at the dog boy. If only you didn’t claim to be human. If only you had not meddled in a man’s affairs.

  The briars exploded with birds.

  The covey filled the air, quail flying every direction. Gaines waited, knowing they’d all converge on the nearest cover. He shouldered his gun and shot into the winged chaos. The gun banged and jerked. A moment later, Archie did the same.

  Birds dropped to the ground as the survivors vanished.

  “How about that,” Gaines said with a grin.

  “How many we get, Daddy?”

  “At least six, I reckon.”

  “Damn if your friend don’t make a good flushing dog.”

  “He ain’t my friend,” Gaines said.

  Enoch.

  The creeper cocked his head at the distant call.

  Enoch.

  “Never mind her,” Gaines said. “Go fetch them birds.”

  Miss Sally had guessed what he had a mind to do. Her daddy must have told her to stay away from the woods because they were hunting. Albod had seen Enoch come out with him and the boy and walk off into the woods.

  Two and two make a dead dog.

  Now she wanted to meddle, despite her daddy’s wishes. Well, she could do it at her own risk, then. She’d heard the shooting. If that didn’t stop her, so be it.

  It would all be over soon.

  Gaines reloaded his shotgun, this time with buckshot. It wasn’t his intent to kill the creeper, but an ass full of double-aught would lay him up for a long, long time.

  “I don’t hear him,” Archie said.

  Gaines listened. “Come on back here, Enoch.”

  Nothing.

  He should have known. The son of a bitch ran off to find Sally.

  Thrashing in a thicket on his left.

  “What’s that?” Gaines said. “Something over there.”

&n
bsp; He was trembling, excited and scared, thinking maybe he shouldn’t do this. Sally was running around out there somewhere worried Gaines had shot up her pet. Maybe putting some fear in her heart was enough to make his point.

  A clump of bushes shook. A branch cracked. A flicker of green.

  He raised his shotgun and fired into the thicket.

  Branches flew apart at the blast. Leaves sprayed and fluttered to the ground.

  “What was that?” Archie said. “Why did you shoot?”

  “Thought I saw a pheasant,” Gaines said.

  His ears rang from the blast. He crept forward, listening.

  A girl gasped for help.

  Oh, Lord, he thought. What have I done?

  He dropped the gun and ran into the tangle. Branches tore and scratched at him like a resisting animal. He saw suntanned legs and a green dress.

  Sally lay snared in branches. His aim had been half-blind but perfect. Peppered hole in her chest. She wheezed and gasped, glaring at him in panic.

  “I’ve got you, Miss Sally.”

  Crying, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to the glade, where he set her down on the Indian grass.

  “That’s Sally,” Archie said.

  Gaines took her hand and squeezed. “I’m real sorry.”

  “That’s Sally Albod. God, Daddy, what did you do?”

  “I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m real, real sorry.”

  Something growled.

  Gaines looked up in time to see the dog boy crouched in the thicket, snarling through clenched teeth, eyes wide and bestial.

  “Enoch,” he said. “Go get Mr. Albod.”

  The creeper launched itself in a whirlwind of fur and claws. Pain ripped through Gaines’s chest and shoulder as he flew back. Blood spray blinded him. The thing’s hot breath blew against his face. The creeper’s musky stink. Drool splashed his cheeks. Claws dug into him like bolts of fire.

  A shotgun roared. The thing whined and vanished.

  “Daddy,” Archie screamed. “Daddy, get up now.”

  Gaines wiped blood from his eyes. He tried to sit up but sank back again howling as pain flared in his chest.

  “Goddamnit,” he said.

  “Don’t move, Daddy. He tore you up bad.”

  “Did you get him?”

  “I got him,” Archie said. “He ran off in the woods, though.”

  “Help me sit up.”

  “You’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”

  “Do it,” Gaines growled.

  He gritted his teeth and shivered as the boy helped him. He looked over at Sally, who lay in the grass and stared back at him breathing in rapid, shallow gasps. Blood spotted her chest, flecks of it on her lips.

  He watched her labor to breathe, wondering at his own stupidity. It was like waking up from a dream. She was just a dumb, stupid girl. Why had he gotten so worked up over her? Why did he shoot instead of listening to the voice in his head? None of it mattered. She might live, she might not, but his life was over now.

  He’d have to leave town and never look back. Give up his job. They’d take his son away from him. If Albod didn’t kill him with his bare hands first.

  “I’ll go get help,” Archie said.

  “Wait.” Gaines fought his way onto his knees, light-headed and sick. His left arm hung useless, but his right worked well enough. “It’s time to man up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sometimes, you have to be a man,” he said. “Do something bad for something better. Now look away. I don’t want you to see.”

  “Daddy?”

  “Look away, son. Don’t look back, no matter what you hear.”

  Gaines crawled toward Sally, who gaped back at him with tears leaking from her eyes. She shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Sally.”

  She shook her head again. “No,” she gasped.

  “I wanted to be in love with you,” he said.

  Then he drew his knife.

  Twenty-Five

  Dog fled, crying with shame and despair.

  Blood spotted the leaves he passed. Pain lanced through his ribs with every lunge through the brush. Sally lay back in that glade dead or dying.

  It was all his fault.

  Sally would never forgive him. Pa Albod. Mr. Gaines.

  They’d put him in Discipline for sure.

  The woods beckoned him. A boy could get lost here. He could go feral.

  That wouldn’t be right, though. He owed the Albods too much.

  He raced back to the farmstead and found Pa Albod in his barn. He skidded to a halt in the straw and lay on his side gasping.

  Pa Albod ran over. “Lord, what happened to you, Enoch?”

  “Sally got shot. She got shot, sir.”

  The blood drained from the man’s face. “What do you mean, she got shot?”

  “She was in the bushes calling for me. Mr. Gaines shot in the bushes and hit her.”

  “Is she dead?”

  “Then I ripped up Mr. Gaines, I was so mad,” Dog said. “Then they shot me, too.”

  “Goddamnit, is she dead?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I think she were still breathing.”

  “Where?”

  “A big glade about a mile—”

  “I know it.”

  The farmer ran from the barn. Dog limped wincing after him and sat in the yard. Pa went into the house and came out toting his shotgun. His daughters trailed pleading and crying after him. He turned and pointed at the house.

  “Go back inside and call 911,” he said. “Lock every door until I get back.”

  Dog sat in the tall grass and watched him until he was just a dot. Then the dot disappeared in the woods. He lay on his side hoping to close his eyes a minute.

  A boot prodded him awake.

  “Get up, boy,” the sheriff said.

  An ambulance shrieked in the distance.

  Dog looked up at the three men standing over him, all wearing sheriff’s department uniforms. “Is she okay?”

  “What happened out there?”

  He sat up, groaning over his stiff ribs. Pain rippled and throbbed along his side. “Mr. Gaines shot Miss Sally. Then I mauled him with my claws.”

  “He shoot her on purpose?”

  Dog wagged his head. “Accident.”

  “Then you mauled Mr. Gaines, you told me. You did that on purpose.”

  “Yes, sir. I did. On account of what he did to Sally.”

  “Thought I warned you not to mess around with normal kids.”

  “She’s my friend,” Dog said.

  The ambulance pulled into the yard and cut the siren. He stared at the flashing lights. Red and blue.

  “I don’t see claws on him,” a deputy said. “Did he say he mauled Gaines?”

  Dog showed them.

  “Jesus,” the other deputy said.

  “Looks like he shot you, too, Enoch,” the sheriff said.

  “Mr. Gaines’s son did it. He shot me on account of what I did to his daddy.”

  “You was all out there hunting birds together?”

  “Yes, sir. Excepting Sally. She run out to find me.”

  “Why’d she do that?”

  “I don’t rightly know, sir.”

  “You got peppered by birdshot. You’ll be all right.”

  “It hurts plenty, sir.”

  The sheriff nodded to his deputies, who crouched and rolled Dog onto his stomach. Then they handcuffed him.

  “You kill Gaines?” the sheriff said.

  “I don’t think so. I hurt him bad, though.”

  “You better pray you didn’t kill him. Either way, I have to bring you in.”

  One of the deputies pointed. “Hey, boss.”

  Pa Albod was coming, carrying his little girl in his arms. The paramedics ran over to him with their kits. They stopped and stood aside as he passed.

  Somebody had torn her chest wide open. Her eyes stared at nothing.

  “Sally,” Dog breathed. �
��Poor Sally.”

  The farmer was crying. “Look what you done. Look what you done to my little girl.”

  He fell to his knees keening over the body.

  “You son of a bitch,” the sheriff said.

  A deputy kicked Dog hard in the shoulder with his boot. He howled in surprise and rolled as the second deputy raised his baton with a fierce, desperate look. The club smashed him in the guts. Dog gasped at the shock. He couldn’t breathe. It hurt more than anything in his life. He didn’t understand what was happening. The first deputy kicked him again. Blood sprayed from Dog’s snout. He vomited in the grass. The baton came down again with a sickening thud.

  He looked up through a veil of pain to see the big sheriff raise his boot and bring it down on his face.

  MEN

  He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster.

  —Friedrich Nietzsche

  Twenty-Six

  Dog lay moaning in the back of the police cruiser. He hurt everywhere. The handcuffs bit into his wrists. The right side of his body throbbed with pain. Blood clotted his nose. He tongued loose fangs. He leaned over the seat and let a string of bloody drool spill to the floor.

  He looked up at the sheriff’s grizzled head. “Tell me why. Why did he have to kill her like that?”

  “You have the right to remain silent,” the sheriff said.

  “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “It means shut your mouth and God damn you for what you done.”

  The car lurched to a halt. The door opened. A deputy leaned in and helped him out. Dog looked around in wonder at all the buildings and cars and people. This was where the normals lived. Nothing like the squalor of the Home, the peaceful stillness of the farm.

  Everybody stared at him. He smiled weakly back.

  Special, he thought.

  The deputy gripped him under his arm and yanked him toward the police station. “You bite and, so help me, I’ll knock your teeth out.”

  Dog limped, panting hard at each step. “I ain’t gonna bite you.”

  He didn’t know why the deputy looked so scared. He didn’t get beat half to death. He wasn’t wearing handcuffs. Inside, the man sat him in a chair in a big office and took his own seat behind a typewriter. The sheriff leaned against the cinder block wall and watched.