Miracles

by Thomas A. Watson

  “Load up the kids!” he shouted and took off running for his four-wheeler. Leaping over the back, Arthur landed in the seat and started the engine, gunning the gas while Wendy directed kids into the MRAP and others to side by sides.

  Speeding back down the path they’d cleared, Arthur punched the thumb throttle when the plane roared overhead again, flying south the way it had come from. Glancing up, Arthur could see the plane turning west. Afraid he would run off the cleared area, even though it was a hundred yards wide, Arthur dropped his eyes back down to race across the hilltop until he reached the slope.

  Glancing down and seeing he was doing fifty, Arthur gripped the handlebars tight while the four-wheeler bounced over the soft ground. Nearing the floor of the valley, he pushed the thumb throttle wide open and the engine screamed in response when he shot over the field. Reaching the dirt road he sped along, leaving a dust trail and heard the plane coming from behind him.

  Arthur raised his left arm, waving in the air as the plane roared over his head and Arthur gave a jerk, actually feeling the prop blast from the four engines. Watching the plane soar down the valley over the collection of supplies, Arthur saw the wings rock side to side when the plane passed over their original house and his thumb slipped off the throttle. “Joseph,” he sighed, feeling tears stream down his face.

  The plane climbed up in the sky and his four-wheeler coasted to a stop. Seeing the plane was making a loop, “What the hell is he doing?” Arthur gasped out loud. The fields in the valley weren’t level enough and the road had trees beside it, not many but enough.

  Watching the plane line up and head straight for him, Arthur pulled his four-wheeler off the road as the plane continued to grow. Cocking his head to the side, Arthur thought the plane looked like it was slowing down, but he didn’t see the landing gear. “Oh, that plane better not be broke,” he grumbled, then saw a small parachute sail out of the back. When the plane zoomed over, Arthur glanced up and saw the back ramp was down and someone was on the right side waving.

  “Hi,” Arthur called out, returning the wave and then sped off as the small chute landed on the dirt road. Skidding to a stop, he leaned over to see a metal tube connected to the chute and scooped it up. Taking one end off and finding cloth, Arthur pulled it out and found a radio.

  “Dad,” he heard and dropped the tube in shock.

  Diving off the four-wheeler and hitting the ground with his face, Arthur pulled the radio out. “Joseph? Is it really you?”

  “Yes, Dad,” Joseph answered. “Have you had lots of rain here?”

  “Um, no. Just a few showers. Joseph, you can’t land in the fields, son,” Arthur replied, never registering he’d busted his nose when he’d face-planted in the road.

  “I know, Dad, but I was thinking the Dawson farm. They have a runway for their crop dusters.”

  “Son, that runway isn’t that long. Why not just fly into Clarksville and I’ll come and get you?”

  “Dad, they’ve landed C-130s on aircraft carriers without tail hooks and taken off without catapults. That strip is long enough. I was just worried if it was muddy because that could be a problem. And I really don’t want to land near any population. I got bullet holes when I landed in Florida to refuel.”

  “Okay, son, I’ll meet you there, and nobody was there when we checked,” Arthur said, wiping tears off his face.

  “Um, Dad? You need to bring something that can carry back six adults and seventeen kids.”

  “That won’t be a problem,” Arthur laughed.

  “Talk soon. This radio broadcasts a long way so I won’t call back unless I have to,” Joseph told him, and Arthur lowered his hands and looked up at the sky.

  “Thank you. You may have started me off on my own, but at least you let me continue on with them,” Arthur sighed.

  Hearing a thundering roar, Arthur turned to see the MRAP hauling ass down the dirt road toward him. “Didn’t know it could go that fast,” he admitted, very happy he was off the road. Looking behind the MRAP, he could see a line of side by sides in the dust cloud.

  As the MRAP neared, he saw the weight shift when the brakes were hit hard and had a new appreciation for anti-lock brakes. The vehicle was barely stopped when Wendy leapt from the driver’s door and flew at him. She stopped when she saw the smile on Arthur’s face and never noticed the blood from his nose. “It was Joseph?” she asked timidly.

  “Yes,” Arthur sighed, and Wendy launched through the air to wrap her arms around him. “We have to meet him at the Dawson farm.”

  Jerking her head back, “He can land that there?” she asked in shock.

  “He said he could if it wasn’t wet,” Arthur told her, and Wendy let him go. “I’m going to rush over. I know it was empty when we got the pastor’s dogs, but I don’t want Joseph to land and a gang be there.”

  “We’ll kill every fucker in the state!” Wendy shouted. “Let’s go!”

  “Babe, you’ll have to drive one MRAP over. I don’t want any of those following to get lost on the way there. We are bringing back six adults and seventeen kids, so we’ll need all three MRAPs, the Stryker, and a Suburban, along with the other rides.”

  Wendy turned, heading for the MRAP, “Take Todd with you,” she commanded. “Donald, Daisy, out. Go with Daddy!” Wendy shouted in the door, and Arthur saw the Rotts round the front of the rig. “I’ll wait at the bridge for the others, but tell them to hurry.”

  The vehicle was moving before Wendy even shut the door and the side by sides pulled up to Arthur. “Andrea, you get in the other MRAP. Shawn, drive the Suburban with the minigun. Tony, take one of the other Suburbans. Shelia, you drive the Stryker. Split your groups accordingly and Todd, you’re with me in the Blazer.”

  Jumping back on his four-wheeler, Arthur took off and the others followed. “Why is his nose bleeding?” Kirk asked Andrea and she just shrugged.

  Chapter Ten

  Life experiences

  Sitting in the passenger seat of the Blazer, Todd held on for dear life while Arthur roared down the dirt road that led north from the valley. Todd could tell Arthur knew the roads like only someone who’d lived there awhile just by the way he’d move to one side and then they’d speed over a rut Arthur had dodged. Repeating this over and over, Todd just gave up and closed his eyes. If he was going to crash, Todd wanted it to be a surprise.

  “What the hell are your eyes closed for?” Arthur snapped. “I’m not even doing eighty.”

  Feeling the Blazer powering around a curve and the rear end swinging out, Todd swallowed nervously. “Never traveled this fast on a dirt road,” Todd admitted.

  “A dirt road is where you head when someone’s chasing you,” Arthur laughed. “Before I married Wendy, I bet I lost a dozen cops on dirt roads.”

  All Todd could do was grin because until they slowed, he vowed he wasn’t opening his eyes. “How far?” he asked, then felt the Blazer dip and he was bounced out of the seat. When his butt retouched the seat, Todd could swear he felt his ass grip the seat to stop that from happening again. But he never opened his eyes.

  “Twenty miles,” Arthur replied, and Todd gave a sigh to feel the Blazer slowing and opened his eyes.

  “SHhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiIT!” he screamed, seeing the road ahead bank right in a near ninety-degree turn. Throwing out his feet, he pushed his body into the seat and pressed up against the roof with his left hand, only because his right refused to release the ‘oh shit’ handle.

  “Pussy,” Arthur laughed, pressing the brakes and hitting the curve low before tapping the brakes harder to make the rear end slide out. When the rear end slid out, Arthur spun the steering wheel and stomped the gas pedal. The engine roared and Todd’s eyes glanced in the side mirror, seeing the rear wheels shooting long tails of gravel and dirt out behind them.

  When he felt the Blazer right itself, Todd quit screaming and just panted hard. “I always thought that was CGI in movies, didn’t know you could actually do that,” he admitted.

  “Don’t
you watch old movies? Stuntmen were driving those cars,” Arthur laughed, and Todd thought Arthur seemed really relaxed as they rocketed down the road.

  Not having heard about Arthur’s past, Todd asked, “Did your dad or brothers teach you how to drive like that?”

  “Never found out who my dad was or if I even had brothers. I learned to drive when I stole my first car at twelve,” Arthur laughed. “Old bitch who lived next to the foster home I was living in at the time would always sit on her front porch when the bus dropped us off and screamed ‘little unwanted bastards’. After a year of that, I wanted to learn how to drive, so I borrowed her car. That old bitch was the first person I ever really considered killing,” Arthur told him. “Nobody knew why she hated us because we avoided her mean ass like she was Satan’s bride. But she only yelled mean stuff at us, the foster kids next door, not the other kids in the neighborhood. Out of all the homes I stayed at it was the nicest, and no one ever got out of line because it was nice. If you were a pain, you knew someone would pick you up and take you to a worse home.”

  In shock, Todd’s left hand dropped down from the roof and he had the sudden desire to find that old bitch and beat her to death with a croquet mallet. Seeing another curve ahead, Todd didn’t even get excited because it wasn’t a sharp ninety-degree turn. “You get caught taking her car?” he asked while Arthur barely slowed for the curve.

  “Hell, no,” Arthur laughed. “I had to steal a booster seat from McDonald’s first and make some blocks to reach the pedals to drive that damn land yacht. It was a ‘74 Buick LeSabre Sedan. I swear, you could’ve landed a plane on that car. Shit, it was huge.”

  “Did they ever recover the car?”

  Nodding even though Todd wasn’t taking his eyes off the road now, “Yeah, a year after I stole it,” Arthur chuckled. “Some fishermen found it in the lake I’d driven it into. I drove it around until I was nearly out of gas, drove to the lake, pulled my bike from the trunk, and drove the car into the lake. Grabbed the booster seat and blocks and then swam back to shore, changed clothes, and pedaled my ass back.

  “That old bitch was screaming at the police that one of the ‘little unwanted bastards’ had stolen her car. I was the oldest at the foster home and like I said, twelve. The cops took one look at me, a scrawny kid not even four-foot-ten and just laughed at the old hag. The cops did come over and gathered all us foster kids in the living room with the parents, but they only asked us if we’d seen anyone strange in the neighborhood,” Arthur paused and he grinned.

  “Putting on my most sincere face, I told the cops Ms. Penderton usually let one of the people from the bingo hall use her car,” Arthur smirked. “The cops turned to my foster parents and they both nodded and told the officers I was right. Hearing that, the cops flipped their notepads closed, thanked us, and even gave the two younger kids stuffed animals.”

  Listening to the level of thought a twelve-year-old had put into the action, Todd turned to glance at Arthur. “Whoa! I got in trouble because I got caught stealing a pack of bubblegum from the store when I was twelve.”

  Scoffing, “Dumbass, you should’ve figured out kids are watched like hawks around the candy racks in a store,” Arthur told him. “Just walk around and you can tell where the clerks watch and know where to go.”

  “You stole a lot from stores?”

  Shrugging, “Sometimes, but it was usually books or magazines. No, not Playboys,” Arthur chuckled, then stopped. “Fuckers kept those behind the counter.”

  “What else did you steal?”

  Letting out a long sigh, “Clothes and shoes,” Arthur answered remorsefully. “The foster parents only got so much, and only a few actually spent it on us. But even the ones who did, there wasn’t much they could do with the money. So, I did it myself. I would always arrange a small job to do for someone to explain how I got some money. To get a receipt, all you had to do was hang around the store because people always drop them or throw them away in the parking lot. I would have my story ready for questions before I carried out my crime, and almost always had my receipt before I stole from the store.”

  Turning back to the road, “Holy shit,” Todd mumbled at the intrigue a small kid had understood. “Did you learn that from anyone?” he asked.

  “Hell, no. Most of the foster kids I was around were dumbasses. Those who stole got caught more than they succeeded. I just watched and planned, but I also read. And that led to my next area of theft; tools. I learned how to fix broken stuff and sell it, then I had an excuse to steal something expensive. The foster parents saw me selling stuff I fixed up, small things like toasters, lawn mowers, and stuff people would throw away. They knew I had money, so they didn’t question me when I came home with something new.”

  “But you sold stuff, you could’ve bought it,” Todd exclaimed.

  “Todd, when you sell a toaster for a dollar, you can’t make that dollar grow enough to buy a pair of forty-dollar tennis shoes. I just needed a cover to explain how I was getting money.”

  Feeling the Blazer slow, Todd tensed up when he saw a sign, ‘sharp curves ahead’. Now only moving thirty miles an hour, Todd thought he could probably get out and run faster than they were going. But when Arthur took the first curve, Todd understood why Arthur had slowed way down. The curve turned to the right, but the road tilted ‘out’ instead of ‘in’ from the curve. “He really knows these roads,” Todd mumbled.

  Then Todd remembered the neat and organized stacks of ‘reclaimed items’, what Arthur had called them, in his workshop. Wendy had called them ‘junk’. “So, that’s where you learned to repair stuff?” Todd asked.

  “Yeah, but a part of me likes to see how stuff works. And to be honest, I hate buying something if I can fix what I already have. Those new items we have at the ranch are the only new items I’ve ever brought home but I didn’t buy them.”

  “I would think foster parents would like that,” Todd said.

  Giving a loud scoff, “Oh, sure. Some kid living with you for a year or two starts hauling crap to the backyard? I kept it organized for me. It was just easier to find stuff. But only one didn’t care and for the most part, encouraged it.”

  Continuing the drive at much slower speeds because of the road, Arthur didn’t notice Todd looking over with bated breath, wanting the story to continue. “So, who was it? Did you end up getting adopted by them?” Todd finally asked.

  Letting out a long sigh, “Mr. Will,” Arthur said in a low voice but had a soft smile of remembrance, and Todd suddenly regretted asking. “I was fourteen when I moved in with him. He was a senior citizen, which was rare then for a foster parent, and the only reason I was placed with him was because I had such a good record and I could take care of myself. Mr. Will was a war vet. His wife had died a few years before and they’d had no children. I think he was just tired of being alone. He offered to become a foster parent and I was placed with him. He was a good man.”

  Hearing the ‘was’, Todd felt sick for dragging up the memory. He was about to change the subject when Arthur continued. “Up until that time, I had studied hand-to-hand fighting from books. I’d always been a member of the local library. I was the scrawny kid who didn’t back down. I wouldn’t fight people in school, but I damn sure would follow them home and fight them in their own yard. Mr. Will had been a Ranger in the Army and taught me how to fight. He was stationed in Japan. That’s where he learned several forms.”

  Hearing softness in Arthur’s voice, Todd just stared out the window while they drove. “Mr. Will was also the first one to get me a real job, working at a gas station,” Arthur smiled, then the smile dropped off. “When I got my first check and saw how much of my money that I’d worked for the government had taken, let’s just say I wasn’t a happy camper. Mr. Will told me he was sorry for the country he was leaving me, and the rich would continue to destroy it.”

  “So, he taught you guns also?” Todd asked, but wanted to ask more because it sounded like that old man and young Arthur had been two pe
as in a pod.

  “No,” Arthur mumbled. “Mr. Will was going to teach me guns and teach me outdoors, but…” Arthur stopped, and Todd saw a tear run down Arthur’s cheek. “He had a stroke, nine months after I’d moved in. I was put in another home thirty miles away and Mr. Will was sent to a nursing home. I got another job as a paperboy and for three months, pedaled my ass off every Saturday to go visit Mr. Will. Being a nurse now, I’m surprised he lived three months longer, but Mr. Will would always give me half a smile when I came in. He was totally paralyzed on his right side.”

  Reliving the memory, Arthur smiled big. “He would tell me as soon as he got out, I was moving back in because he hadn’t even taught me anything yet. It felt good, knowing someone actually wanted me to stay with them and be a family. I wouldn’t get that again until Wendy. Mr. Will was the only foster parent I ever really liked, and I would say loved. We weren’t together long, but he left his mark on me.”

  Todd was trying not to cry and vowing to never ask Arthur another question about his life again when Arthur spoke. “Mr. Will, I came to find out, actually changed his Last Will and Testament before he passed,” Arthur continued, and Todd turned, expecting to see joy on Arthur’s face, but found a dark and foreboding mask. “Turned out, Mr. Will had some assets, land, and money. I found this out at the funeral that I skipped school for and rode my bike to. It did hurt my heart to only see a dozen people there. Mr. Will was such a great man in my eyes I expected hundreds. After the funeral a man came up to me asking my name. Turned out, he was Mr. Will’s lawyer.”

  When Arthur stopped talking, Todd noticed his jaw muscles flexing in anger. “I was sad Mr. Will was gone and would’ve rather had him, but the lawyer told me the money was going into a trust for me. It was the first time in my life, I felt secure that I would make it. Two months later, the lawyer showed up at my foster home and informed me the IRS had seized the trust and all assets. They’d stated bullshit about making the will under duress of medical care, even though the will was changed three months before the stroke and blah, blah, blah. Since there were no blood relatives and I was a ward of the state, it was just taken. Tennessee and Ohio got half, since that’s where I spent most of my time in foster homes. The feds took the rest.”