Something in My Eye: Stories

by Michael Jeffrey Lee

  A nurse was serving on the western front of a popular war. She went out one morning into a smoking field, strewn with the dead and dying of both sides, to administer aid to those who were in need.

  First, a male soldier, whose blood was seeping from the places where his eyes had once been, called to her.

  “Medicine,” he said. “I need medicine.”

  “I have no medicine,” said the nurse. “How about a vision?”

  “A vision will do.”

  She sat down in the mud beside him and cradled his head in her arms. “Somewhere, not far away, a stadium stands atop a high hill, lit up and waiting for something coming.”

  “Thank you,” he said, and died.

  The nurse walked on until a female soldier, blood seeping slowly from both ears, tugged at the hem of her long skirt.

  “Water,” the soldier said. “I need water.”

  “I have no water,” the nurse said. “How about a song?”

  “A song will do.”

  She knelt and began to sing:Take my hand, I’ll lead you away

  Outside the fracas, above the melee

  Where the fruit is ripe and the water is clean

  Won’t that do wonders for your self-esteem?

  “Thank you,” the soldier said, and died.

  The nurse walked farther across the smoking field until a little drummer boy, blood seeping from the stumps left where his hands had been blown away, waved to her.

  “Medal,” he said. “I need a medal.”

  “I have no medals,” said the nurse. “Shall I make you one?”

  “Making one will do,” he said.

  The nurse went searching across the wide field until she found one of the drummer boy’s hands. She brought it back to him, and kneeling, pinned it to his shirt. “Handsome and manly,” she said.

  “Thank you,” said the drummer boy, and died.

  The nurse suddenly became tired, and wished to be back home. And so she persisted and walked a little farther until she reached a grove of blackened trees. There she was approached by a pack of wolves, who walked on their hind legs and lolled their tongues at her.

  “What are your intentions?” said the nurse.

  “Oh, we wish you would turn back,” they said.

  “And why is that?” she said.

  “We’ll miss watching you work,” they said.

  “But I must return home,” she said. “I am needed there.”

  “And where is that?” they asked.

  The nurse winked, and then revealed that she wasn’t a nurse at all, but one of God’s angels in disguise.

  “Forgive us,” said the wolves, disbanding and leaving her alone.

  Moral: You never know.

  Repenting

  Braines lay in prison, repenting. When he was finished, he thought of his friend Handy, who was in the adjacent cell. Handy was a co-conspirator, and Braines’ best friend. He crawled to the hole he had dug to Handy’s cell, and peered in. His eyes met Handy’s through the hole.

  “Thought you might be up,” said Braines.

  “Knew you were up,” said Handy. “Didn’t hear you kicking.”

  “Quit it,” said Braines. “Didn’t hear you chewing.”

  “Kicked it,” said Handy.

  “Prison’s got a way of flaying away the habits,” said Braines.

  “Sure does,” said Handy. “I’m a shell of my self. Been a while since we spoke.”

  “Sure,” said Braines. “I ain’t been inclined.”

  “Me neither,” said Handy.

  “How about Churn?” said Braines. “Any contact?”

  Churn was the other co-conspirator, and Braines’ other best friend.

  “Churn ain’t been inclined neither,” said Handy.

  “And how do you know that?” said Braines.

  “Ain’t seen him,” said Handy.

  “What you been up to?” said Braines.

  “Little of this, little of that,” said Handy.

  “Slim few things a man can be up to in the wee hours,” said Braines, “especially in the wee hours.”

  “I’ve been repenting,” said Handy. “Don’t you go judging me.”

  “Hush now,” said Braines. “Nothing wrong with repenting. Was doing a little of it myself tonight.”

  “It don’t feel too good to repent,” said Handy. “Us being killers and all.”

  “All part of the plan,” said Braines.

  “Say what?” said Handy.

  “Repenting’s like falling down a well,” said Braines. “Whole time you’re repenting, you’re falling, but there’s a bottom to the well, you bet. You know what happens when you hit the bottom?”

  “No,” said Handy.

  “You’re dashed against the damn stones, and you’re nothing but a shell, but you gather your strength, and by and by you get fired up to commit more crimes.”

  “How far have you fallen?” said Handy.

  “Must say the bottom is pretty nice,” said Braines, “if a little dank.” He laughed his old laugh. “You catching what I’m wafting?”

  “Caught it,” said Handy. He laughed a similar laugh.

  “How far down are you?” said Braines.

  “Pretty close,” said Handy. “Could use a little extra gravity.”

  “Go repent a little more,” said Braines. “I’ll wait here.”

  Handy slid away from the hole. He crossed his legs, closed his eyes, and started to murmur. Then he opened them again. “What’s the plan?” he said.

  “That it?” said Braines.

  “That’s it,” said Handy. “I told you I was close.”

  “Good man,” said Braines. “You fired up?”

  “Melting,” said Handy.

  “What about Churn?” said Braines. “Churn up?”

  “Let me check,” said Handy. Handy crawled to the hole in the opposite wall, and then crawled back.

  “He’s reading,” said Handy, “Ain’t no telling how far he’s fallen.”

  “What’s he reading?” said Braines. “Ain’t but one book I know of here.”

  “Couldn’t tell,” said Handy. “He looked engrossed.”

  “Better not be the Good Book,” said Braines. “If he’s reading that, he’s got a ways to go.”

  “You never know with Churn,” said Handy.

  “True,” said Braines, “Muteness is mysterious.”

  “What do you want to do?” said Handy.

  “Well,” said Braines. “I was thinking the world might’ve forgotten about us. That it might be time again to remind them who we are.”

  “Don’t know about the forgetting,” said Handy. “Our crime was downright heinous.”

  “If you couldn’t remember your damn alibi on the stand,” said Braines, “how do you expect to know whether the world can or can’t remember what we did?”

  “You didn’t remember your alibi too well either, as I remember,” said Handy.

  “I played my part,” said Braines. “I was supposed to be the dumb one, remember?”

  “Churn didn’t fare so well either,” said Handy.

  “You’d think that a mute wouldn’t give nothing away,” said Braines. “But Churn was as obvious as a hospital visit.”

  “That’s all in the past, Braines,” said Handy.

  “You’re right,” said Braines. “Besides, Churn’s indispensable to the group.”

  “What are you thinking?” said Handy.

  “One thing’s for sure,” said Braines. “If I repent any more, I’m gonna immolate before I even make it back to the world.”

  “Me too,” said Handy. “So?”

  “Give Churn the sign,” said Braines. “I’ll call the guard.”

  “Guard’s not going to be happy about us leaving,” said Handy. “Gonna miss kicking us around.”

  “Never laid a hand on me,” said Braines. “I painted pictures for him in my spare time.”

  “What kind?” said Handy.

  “Renditions of
the crime scene,” said Braines. “Extra ghastly.”

  “Glad you were treated fairly,” said Handy. “That’s rare.”

  “Don’t you worry about me,” said Braines. “Me and the guard are on good terms.” He laughed his old laugh again.

  “Where should we meet?” said Handy.

  “You really have to ask me that?” said Braines. “Where’s the only place left where a man can be free? In this region, at least?”

  “Don’t know,” said Handy.

  “The woods, Handy,” said Braines. “The woods are still wild.”

  “Free seems to me the best way to be,” said Handy. “See you in the woods.”

  “Repent some more in the mean time,” said Braines. “I need you good and ready.”

  “Best of luck,” said Handy. “If we don’t meet, you’ll know they got us.”

  “Worse ways to go,” said Braines. “You’ll make it. You and Churn.”

  “Churn’s unsteady sometimes,” said Handy.

  “Churn’ll find his legs,” said Braines. “I’m tired of jawing.”

  “Alright,” said Handy. “See you in the woods.”

  Handy’s eyes left the hole. Braines lay back and thought about what he would miss. Nothing, he decided, and he started repenting, though it was just for show. After a while, he called the guard, who came to the door.

  “Yes, Braines?” said the guard.

  “Time to make good on our special relationship,” said Braines.

  “I’ll miss you,” said the guard.

  “You’ll miss my ghastly paintings, is what you’ll miss,” said Braines.

  “I will,” said the guard. “But mostly I’ll miss jawing with you.”

  “Open up, now,” said Braines.

  His cell door swung open, and he walked into the empty hallway. Handy and Churn’s doors were also ajar. He saw all the other prisoners in their cells, either lying back or repenting. Braines laughed his old laugh as he passed out of the prison and jogged the hundred miles to the woods.

  He found his co-conspirators in a clearing, on a picnic bench. Handy was watching for passersby. Churn was reading by starlight.

  “How’s the weather on the coast?” said Braines.

  “Coast is sunny and clear,” said Handy.

  Braines approached them and gave Handy a quiet high five. “Any problems?” he said.

  “Had to drag old Churn out of his cell. Wouldn’t leave without his book.”

  Braines inspected the book. “Damn it all,” he said. “It’s the Good Book.”

  “You remember reading that when you were littler?”

  “Fairy tales,” said Braines. “Childhood sugar dreams.”

  “We could try and wean him off it,” said Handy.

  “Wean him with what?” said Braines. “You got another book in your possession?”

  “Something will turn up,” said Handy.

  Braines put his hands on Churn’s shoulders. “Churn,” he said. “This isn’t gonna work. Got to put down the book. Got to put the book down or Braines and Handy aren’t going to be best friends with you any more.”

  Churn put the book down. He looked bereft.

  “He always listened to you before me,” said Handy.

  “Hell,” said Braines. “Look at him.”

  “Brutal sight,” said Handy.

  “I can’t look at him,” said Braines. “When I do I see the person that I am and never wanted to be. Now Churn, if we let you keep reading your book, do you promise to do the dirty work for us, just like old times?”

  Churn blinked.

  “We got a deal,” said Braines. “Get that book out of the dirt.”

  Churn picked up the book and dusted it off. He opened it and smiled.

  “Braines,” said Handy, “if Churn is still reading the Good Book, how can we be sure he’s hit the bottom?”

  “Unsolvable problem,” said Braines.

  “So what’s the plan?” said Handy.

  “Something’ll turn up tomorrow,” said Braines. “These are happening woods. We’re bound to find some victims.”

  “You want to ditch the prison jumpsuits?” said Handy.

  “God no,” said Braines. “Less you’re comfortable going à la carte.”

  “But what about the element of surprise?” said Handy. “The victims won’t even give us the time of day if they see that we’re repented and escaped prisoners.”

  “Good point,” said Braines. “Can’t have victims without the time of day. Let’s turn ’em inside out.”

  They turned their uniforms inside out. Handy held the Good Book while Churn turned his.

  “I’m hungry,” said Handy.

  “I’m downright feeble,” said Braines.

  They heard something cry in the trees. Churn picked up a stick and threw it in the direction of the crying. The crying stopped. He put down the Good Book and walked into the trees. He came back with food in his arms and dropped it on the picnic table. Then he picked up the Good Book again.

  “There’s old Churn,” said Braines. He bent down and took a bite.

  “Maybe Churn never had to hit the bottom,” said Handy. He bent down and took a bite.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” said Braines.

  “Maybe Churn never felt the need to repent,” said Handy, “because he doesn’t even know he committed a heinous crime.”

  “I’ve had about enough of your epiphanies,” said Braines. “There’s food on the table. Ain’t that enough?”

  “I guess,” said Handy. “Churn, bend down and get some of this.”

  Churn kept reading.

  “He’s a natural man,” said Braines. “No doubt about it.”

  Braines and Handy ate until they were picking bones.

  “I’m swole up,” said Braines. He lay down in the dirt, closing his eyes. “Bedtime.”

  “Come to bed, Churn,” said Handy.

  Handy and Churn lay down in the dirt, next to Braines.

  “All together again,” said Handy. “Feels nice.”

  Braines fell fast asleep, and started kicking Handy and Churn. Handy slipped off to sleep, then started to chew. Churn lay on his back, reading the Good Book by moonlight.

  They awoke in the daylight. Two men stood over them. “Get up,” said one of them.

  Braines shielded his eyes from the sun. “Get up Handy,” he said. “Get Churn up too, while you’re at it.”

  Handy got up. So did Churn, but he started reading.

  “Morning, men,” said Handy.

  “Good afternoon is more like it,” said the other man.

  “We overslept,” said Handy. “Damn.”

  “My name is Tone,” said the first man. “Sorry to have woken you so suddenly.”

  “My name’s Mace,” said the other. “I don’t know the word sorry.”

  Braines rubbed his eyes and looked behind the two men. He saw a third person near the trees, but couldn’t tell if it was a man or not. It had very long hair and wore a dress. A straw hat hid its face. “Who’s your partner?” he said.

  “Please don’t you worry about him,” said Tone.

  “So it’s a him?” said Braines. He rubbed his eyes again. “You sure about that?”

  “Don’t think you’re in position to know,” said Mace.

  “What’s his name,” said Braines. “Surely he’s got one.”

  “He hasn’t told us,” said Tone. “If he tells you, let us know.”

  “Sure is nice to meet you both,” said Braines.

  “I’m Handy,” said Handy. He stuck out his hand. No one shook it.

  “Did you say your name was Handy?” said Mace.

  Braines shot Handy a look. “No,” said Handy. “I said my name was Randy.”

  “I could have sworn you said Handy,” said Tone.

  “Randy’s the name,” said Handy. “And these are my friends Bane and Chum.”

  Braines shot Handy another look. Churn kept reading.

  “The radio
’s been talking a lot today about a Handy, Braines, and Churn,” said Mace. “And, of course, it’s also talking about the end of the world.”

  “Radio’s always talking about the end of the world,” said Braines. “Can’t never stomach more than five minutes at a time, myself.”

  “Why are you worried about the end of the world?” said Mace.

  “Don’t like to think that we all gotta settle up eventually,” said Braines.

  “Why does that worry you?” said Tone.

  “I’m having too nice a time amongst my friends, I guess,” said Braines.

  “Are you boys vacationing?” said Handy. “I hear these are happening woods.”

  “We are not,” said Tone. “We met a few vacationers today, though.” He and Mace laughed a hollow laugh. “What are you doing here?” said Mace.

  “Vacationing,” said Braines.

  “Really?” said Tone. “Where are your tents?”

  “We like to rough it,” said Braines.

  “Then where are your canned goods?” said Mace.

  Braines pointed to the bones on the picnic table. “We like to rough it,” he said.

  “And the remains of your campfire?” said Tone.

  “Chum here likes to read his book by the night sky,” said Braines, “so we don’t never light one.”

  “You believe our story?” said Handy.

  Braines shot Handy a look.

  “You believe the story we’re telling you?” said Handy.

  Braines shot Handy another look.

  “You believe the justification for why we’re here?” said Handy.

  Braines shot Handy one more look.

  “Hush now,” said Mace. “We try and believe everything.”

  “We’re very open people,” said Tone.

  “What do y’all do for a living?” said Handy.

  “Move around,” said Mace.

  “We used to be the same way,” said Handy.

  Braines did not even bother shooting Handy a look.

  “Well, what changed that?” said Tone.

  “We had to get nine to fives,” said Braines.

  “Must be nice to take a vacation like this,” said Mace.

  “You bet,” said Handy. “In such a camping spot to boot.”

  Braines looked again at the long-haired man in the hat and dress. He thought he recognized him. “Do you mind if I talk with your friend?” he said.