Freedy stared gloomily down the slope at the clear running stream. Sweat trickled down his back and off the end of his nose. A narrow trail, looking like a faintly luminous snake in the twilight, could be made out meandering down the hillside from the far end of the house.
Inside, the miners had found a deck of cards and were playing for invisible nuggets of gold, in the shape of toothpicks.
The side door slammed and he heard Charlie call out to the others. "I'll be back at midnight with the guns. We'll do some target shooting tomorrow." There were delighted hoops and hollers from inside.
"Bring back the brew!" one of them shouted. "Bring the brew! Bring the brew!" the others quickly took up the chant.
"And munchies!" Fat Jim yelled out, and then there were two chants. "Bring the brewskie! Bring the munchies! Bring the brewskie! Bring the munchies!"
Freedy shivered. He wasn't going to stick around if Charlie brought back both booze and guns! (Well the munchies sounded like a good idea.) These guys were wild at the best of times. He heard Charlie slide the van door shut with a solid thunk and drive away.
He started toward the house, but through the window he saw Jay coming back from the showers, which by his reckoning of the totem pole status of the crew meant only half of them had showered.
Just the memory of the clear flow of the stream was more refreshing than waiting for the shower. His mind's eye visualized the path down to it and the blue water reward at the end of it. Instead of going inside, he veered to the side of the house. His shoes were just outside the door and he squeezed back into them.
Then he wandered around the back, past the gated 'garden' and onto a faint trail that wandered generally in the right direction. There was a shed just a hundred feet or so beyond, full of discarded lumber and equipment. There was an old railroad bell, and right next to is a windup siren. For some mysterious reason there was an abandoned purple color P.T. Cruiser. Then again, maybe it wasn't so strange -- who'd drive a purple P.T. Cruiser?
He picked his way through the clutter and down the slope. The path became wider where it merged with another trail about halfway down. Freedy started enjoying his walk. He'd been cooped up for so long, he'd forgotten what it was like to get his legs and arms freely pumping.
Someone had built a tiny dam in the stream, which had created a small pool. On the muddy grassy banks, there were a couple of rusted metal lawn chairs. He kicked off his shoes, and looking around and seeing no one, he took off his clothes and dived in.
It was icy cold, but after huffing and sputtering for a few moments, it felt good. He climbed out onto the bank, warmed up a little and then dived back in. He ran his hands over his body, feeling the sweat and grime sluice off him. To hell with the little outside shower! This was the way to bathe!
On the spur of the moment, he grabbed his clothes and submerged them in the clear water, winding them up and rinsing them out. When he finally felt clean enough, he put the wet clothes back on and started walking back up to the cabin. The sun had just sunk below the mountain, but when Freedy came parallel to the house, he figured there was enough daylight to keep walking. The road had split off just before the cabin, and he went back to that fork and started climbing.
Maybe I can find this goldmine Garland was talking about, Freedy thought. If not, at least his clothes would be dry by the time he came back.
Then a strange thing happened. Somehow, he'd gotten it in his head that he'd climb to the top of the hill. (Later he'd kick himself and remember that it was called Lorn Mountain.) Every time the road would top another slope, there would be another slope just ahead, and he'd start walking toward it.
By now he was sweating again, and he was thirsty, but he just kept walking and walking. What had appeared a gentle slope to the eyes wasn't so gentle to his legs, he started feeling sore at the hips and calves.
'I'll tell them I climbed to the top!" he told himself. "They'll be impressed."
The road kept going and going, and he started feeling faint. He sat down for a couple of minutes, but once he had his breath back, instead of heading back down again, he kept climbing. What had gotten into him? By now he knew he wasn't going to reach the top -- he'd caught a glimpse of the far off peak. But he kept trudging.
Just a little further! The sides of the road got steeper with tangled roots sticking out of the red rock and dried mud. He saw a couple of torn down homesteads, all that remained were the broken stumps of chimneys and a few base stones and weed filled holes.
He never did reach the top, but he did hit a plateau where the road was level for a fair distance, and the trees thinned enough that he could look down the mountain.
It was breathtakingly beautiful.
It was getting darker and he couldn't make out all the details, but the rounded foothills and the shadows of the trees, wisps of clouds floated between him and the shining stream below, sprinkled with lights of houses here and there had a fairy-tale quality. It would be a shame to tear off the top of this mountain, he thought. To let the poisons run downhill into that beautiful valley.
Well, his walk wasn't a complete waste. If nothing else, he had a better appreciation of the stakes involved in the possession of this land. He figured he knew what side he was on. Not to mention, he'd have one eighth of a gold mine if they succeeded! Sure, he'd help if he could, though he couldn't imagine how. If it weren't for Garland's strange confidence in him, he'd have bailed out by now.
Enough. He'd head back to the cabin. The soft yellow dust of the road still glowed as if lit be daylight.
About a quarter of the way down, he saw a metal gate on the side of the road that he hadn't noticed on the way up. Huh, he though, I wonder if someone else lives up here?
Just then a man stepped out of the shadows.
"Hey, you. Can I talk to you for a minute?"
There was a challenging tone in the voice that immediately had Freedy's hackles up. He almost walked over to the other side of the road, intending to pretend that he wasn't pretending to pretend not to hear the guy. But the guy raised his voice and there was no ignoring it.
"Come here, man."
Freedy put what he figured was a stupid, harmless smile on his face. "Just out for a walk," he said pleasantly as he approached. Hopefully, the hitch in his step hadn't been too obvious.
The guy wasn't any bigger than Freedy, in his early twenties. He was barefoot with torn off jean shorts, and an unbuttoned shirt showing a tan chest smudged with dirt and sweat.
"Out walking? In this heat?" Again, the voice was challenging. Not quite challenging enough to make Freedy run, but close. The interrogator had a weirdly energetic grin on his face, but flat eyes and he vibrated with a strange energy.
"Yeah, I was thinking I'd walk to the top of the hill."
"Are you kidding me?" the guy said, sounding genuinely mystified. He'd relaxed a little as if realizing that not only was Freedy acting and sounding harmless -- he was harmless. "What kind of idiot would do that?"
Freedy's smile froze, but the stranger immediately guffawed. "Just kidding you, guy. Where you from?"
Without thinking, Freedy blurted. "I'm staying at the, uh, Emmit house."
The man's dull eyes suddenly lit up. Until that moment, Freedy thought the stranger was probably just doing a power trip on him, vaguely threatening the the city boy for a hoot. Most likely he had a marijuana patch up here, or considering how the guy was micro-shaking, a methlab, and he was just making sure that Freedy wasn't a narc.
But the minute Freedy mentioned Charlie's name he knew he had made a big mistake.
"Charlie's back?" Now it was the other guy who was trying too hard to be casual and it sounded just as false.
"Not for long. He might be gone already. I was just going for a last minute walk, you know."
There was a power vacuum -- the kind that the most nervous party in a conversation will fill, and Freedy tried hard to keep his mouth shut.
The guy smirked, as if seeing Freedy's effort.
"Hey, come and have a beer with me."
"I have to get back." Freedy started to get really frightened now by the man's manner.
"Oh, come on, man. It's just a beer. Sit down, take a load off. I'll drive you down if it gets too dark."
I'm not getting in this man's car, Freedy thought. He started edging away, still radiating harmlessness. "No, really. I just want to get back. They're expecting me..."
"Tell Charlie that Alex said hi, O.K?" the man called out.
"You bet," Freedy said, walking away as fast as was seemly.
He turned the corner and walked even faster. Somehow he wasn't surprised when he saw headlights coming down the road slowly just a couple minutes later. He turned off the road and walked a ways into the trees and stood still.
An old sedan with lousy shocks -- a Buick or Pontiac or one of those kinds -- rolled by, and Freedy could barely make out the crewcut head of Alex searching the road from side to side. He crunched past, and then accelerated, swaying over the bumps in the road. Freedy let out a big sigh of relief.
Freedy figured he was about halfway down the mountain now, and he picked up the pace though his legs were starting the cramp. Another mile or so, and he heard a car come up the hill this time.
Sure enough, it was the same Buick, only Freedy could make out three heads in the car instead of one and they were all doing searching lighthouse turns. Freedy stood still again, and tried a little harder to hide behind the trees. He had no pride left. Maybe he'd laugh about this tomorrow. About how he'd freaked out over a stranger asking him to have a beer. Weird. Yeah, it was just weird.
He was about to step out onto the road again, when the Buick came roaring down around the corner above him, and Freedy froze. There was no cover. The car went roaring by, the three heads facing foward, and Freedy realized that it was truly dark now, and the even the light dust outline of the road was faint.
He started trotting down the road.
His heart fell as he hit the fork in the road and saw that the Buick was parked next to the cabin. All the lights were on, but they were being strobed shuttered by the frantic motion of bodes passing the windows.
Freedy slowed down as he heard shouts. And then, clearly above all the chaos, he heard.
"Up against the wall, you stinking miners."
1 comment:
[Someone had built a tiny damn in the stream] Dam! Dam!
[He almost walked over to the other side of the road, intending to pretend that he wasn't pretending to pretend not to hear the guy.] Heh. :)
[The interrogator had a energy grin on his face] what?
[Freedy stood still again, and tried a little harder to hide behind the tries.] trees
More exciting! :D
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