by J E Moore
again at least I'd get a dry room and three squares a day.
I reasoned, convenience store robberies were potentially dangerous and the risk versus the reward amounted to small potatoes - it was time for a safer vocation and to make some dependable money. I caught on as a transporter with an auto theft gang. It was another illegal gig, but I needed the job bad - I had a drug habit to support. Even though I had been popping and snorting for fifteen years without over-dosing and crashing... I wasn't worried, it was under control.
Some parts of the new job were good... the money, drugs and loose, gang gals. But most days I felt tired with pressure in my head. I'd take some uppers and be ready to ride again but the bad head feeling always came back.
I don't know what possessed me but I decided to go home and show Luke the new Dodge Charger I was moving across state lines into New Orleans. She was a beauty. When I got there I was going to say, 'It's mine'. It must have been the drugs messin' with my brain. I had a coupla of outstanding warrants on me but none for Louisiana. I just knew Luke would still be hangin' around the old homestead somewhere. I had my phoney story ready about how honest, respectable and well-off I had become. By now I was sure the rest of the family had passed away since Ma and Pa weren't in that good of health when I left and Iya was in her late sixties. I'll show off and brag some then tell my brother I had some important business to do in New York City and I may not be able to return for a spell - never is what I had planned. I had always felt Luke was just another dumb, stay-at-home country bumpkin in spite of his school smarts.
I drove real careful-like on Interstate 40 passing through Texas from southern California. Me and the Rangers didn't want no part of each other. As I dropped down into Louisiana on US65 and crossed back on I20, I noted nothing had changed too much except the highway network. The countryside was still dotted with farms, most of them in decline or abandoned. It was nearly impossible for private families to live off the land anymore and a lot of people had given up and moved on. "I'll bet Luke hasn't deserted the old homestead. No siree," Cory reasoned. "Someday, somebody will find his worthless, rotting corpse face down in his precious garden. Serves his stupid ass right!" After about an hour I rumbled down our old, dirt road. "They'll never pave this thing," I surmised. "Nature will take it back first." I could see the house in the distance - no other dwellings were in sight.
I took a right turn, passed a dangling open mailbox and traveled down an even worse hundred yard long entrance driveway to the house. I coasted to a bumpy, dusty stop twenty yards from the four-foot high rusted chicken wire fence which bordered only the front side of the property. The 1870's structure appeared more rundown then when I left, which was to be expected. The flower gardens in the front yard between the road and the house were dead as well as the vegetable patch on the north side. Luke's south-side garden was as beautiful as ever, maybe more so. I figured, "He's gotta be living here and could be watching me right now. Either way, it's the weekend and he should be at home even if he has a job in town." The two-storied house appeared shoddy but habitable. There were no livestock visible.
The surroundings and the house's deteriorated condition brought back memories, mostly all bad. "Geez, my head hurts!" I had been chewing on aspirins and chugging water non-stop for the last six hours. I resolved I wasn't going to let a dumb-ass migraine deprive me of my victory gloat over Luke. I exited the Charger and left the motor and a/c running. I wanted to show him what a powerful engine sounded like and how automobile air conditioning felt. Cocky, I sauntered up to the front gate. "Imagine a gate on a fence that has no sides; what a bunch of idiots I used to live with." An ancient two foot tall, cement lion sat stationed at the base of each gate post. "Lions, can you believe?" marveled Cory in disgust. "There ain't no lions in North America, only Africa you ignorant fools!"
"Did I see a curtain flutter in an upstairs window? Did Luke see me drive up? Did he recognize me?" I wondered. "When I get to the front door I'll bang on it and say, "Open up dear brother, I'm home!" We'll have some good words and hugs then I'll slowly pour it on and make his lifestyle look like crap compared to mine. Ha! I'll get the last laugh on that redneck, hick bastard yet!"
The gravel in front of the gate felt slippery. "Had it rained?" I reached for the gate latch and lost my footing. Down I went and cracked my face on the left-sided lion. It hurt like hell. I laid prone on the ground and swore profusely. My head was spinning and my eyes were closed tight from the pain. I gasped for breath and touched my nose. It had begun to swell and I could move it freely about with my fingers. "Sonnabitch, it's busted good! It'll never heal straight!" I had blood on my hands; it felt like my head was exploding. Blood poured from my nose. I screamed as I jammed an end of a handkerchief up each nostril. I got into a kneeling position and clawed at the front gate. The front door opened. My vision had blurred from the tears. I saw four figures walk out onto the veranda. I winced through the burning nasal pain. There stood Ma, Pa, Iya and my twin brother all lookin' just the same as I had left them. "I'm hallucinating." The images were changing. Now the front flower gardens had burst into full bloom and the house paint appeared fresh. I stole a glance at my Dodge Charger - it faded away before my very eyes! I must be trippin'terrible bad!" I jerked my head around to see Luke shrinking and becoming younger until all of them appeared as they did in 1951. Realizing what was about to transpire I cried out, "No, I don't want to go back!"
Luke, who now looked six years old said, "We'll have so much fun. I'll help you start your garden."
Pa added, "We've been waiting for you, son."
All of a sudden, it felt like a bolt of lightning shot through my forehead. I had a massive aneurysm and collapsed dead on the gravel.
Ma directed: "Pa, dig a pit and git the hoist. Luke, start tilling Cory's plot. Iya, would you please fetch your pots and potions? I'll fetch my carving knives for us and we'll bring our 'good' boy Cory home."
The end
The Green Flash
Ocala National Forrest, Florida
In the recent past...
"We're stopping at this one," informed Nick who had been driving the family s.u.v. There are a lot of trails leaving this rest stop and I'm familiar with the outlying area. I hunted this site a few years ago and had pretty good success.
The two men, Nick Fleming and Glenn Grover exited the vehicle and gathered their gear for the upcoming trek. Nick explained to his friend who hadn't been on this sort of venture before, "We may encounter a few campers or hunters when we travel deeper into the forest. Oh, and of course some small wildlife, including snakes... pythons in particular. They took over the Everglades a few years back and now they're moved north. That's why I'm packing a thirty-eight special." Glenn gave him a look of mild surprise. "Don't worry, the snakes should be holed-up in the daytime, they're nocturnal. A poisonous spider would pose more danger so keep an eye out for webs especially on our crossover to trail five, there are no defined paths."
"Uh, I don't recall you telling me any of these things two weeks ago when you conned me into joining thee. I thought hunting exotic tree orchids would be a sleeper." They both smiled. Then, Glenn looked about and noted at least five trails fanning away from their recreational site which was amply equipped with parking, restrooms, pavilions with b-b-q pits and a boat launch on the other side of state road 40. "Nicely done," he commented. "Something for everyone."
"Yeah, it's about time some of our hard-earned tax money was spent on real Florida residents instead of being thrown away on the one hundred and seventy-seven thousand illegal immigrants those moron politicians let in the state," spouted Nick. "Hey, which reminds me. You've heard all the old whale/lawyer jokes, right? I have a new one for you. Who's more corrupt than a politician?" Glenn shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know? Neither do I!" He let it rest a minute, "Okay folks, let's get back to the task at hand. We'll hit the head then start out on trail number four, it's well travelled but we still could find some acceptable plants. No one else should be searching for them but without
a doubt our best gatherings should be on the crossover. Overall, as I told you before it's about an eight mile loop: three out, two across to trail five which is the most difficult part, then another three back. I'll be fair, no strings attached if you're having second thoughts and want to make it another day, I'll understand. Glenn grinned and gave a thumbs up. "Thanks for coming, Buddy."
After three miles of hiking, just before their right turn to begin the second leg of their quest Nick bemoaned, "Dang, I'm sorry, Glenn. We don't seem to be having any luck. We've only seen one scuzzy plant which wasn't worth retrieving." He brightened, "But, in a few minutes we'll be off the beaten path when we make our turn. I'm sure we'll find some 'keepers' on that stretch, partner.
"Hey, look Nick. Is that a campsite about forty yards up, off to the left at our turning point?" alerted Glenn.
His partner nodded agreement and said, "We'll walk as close by as we can and wave hello if we see anyone. The campers always appreciate it."
A short time later they were passing two Sports Authority outdoor family tents anchored a little off the beaten path. There were five people dining at two pushed together portable pop-up