Renewal 7 - When the Student Is Ready

by Jf Perkins

  The huge, jacked-up pickup crunched over the snow at the gate entrance. I could see it perfectly from my high position. It plowed through the drift along the fence, and rocked to a stop at the gate. There were three men in the front seat, and another half dozen in the back. Rifle barrels jutted out everywhere. Crap. Three men jumped out of the bed of the truck. One worked the gate latch, while the other two stood watch with rifles pointed more or less directly at my head. If they could have seen me, they could have easily shot me. When the gate was open, the truck lurched through the opening. The two riflemen jogged out to the sides of the property, looking like it was a big effort. The one on the left could not go far before he hit the valley that had become a lake. I didn’t worry about keeping an eye on him, which was good since Kirk gave him to me as my assignment. Kirk was tracking the man heading to the right. Luckily he started to angle towards the barn long before he slid out of our line of sight.

  Mom could hear the truck, and she was fighting the urge to turn around to watch. Her job was to look in the opposite direction, and it was clearly torturing her. My mom had become a face-the-danger person, and I was proud of that. I kept her apprised with hand signals to indicate the threats; one finger to the left, one finger to the right, and my entire hand slicing in the direction of the approaching pickup trucks.

  The man who had opened the gate, trotted along behind the truck, close enough for cover, but far enough to serve as an overwatch for the men still in the truck. I tried to see everything at once. My man, as he came close enough to see clearly, turned out to be the skinny boy from the morning. He was splitting his attention between the barn and the truck. The driver was no dummy. He used our own well house as cover for his men. He stopped the truck behind the shed, leaving the truck idling, so that his engine and cab was well protected, and only a couple of feet of the truck bed showed. The men in the back were ducking as low as possible. Otherwise, I’m sure Kirk would have been taking their heads off by now. His rifle muzzle was perched in a gap in the wall, clear to fire, but several inches inside. Arturo had taught us early that cover meant not sticking out a telltale gun barrel for the enemy to target.

  I couldn’t see Dad and Arturo without moving, and I was basically holding my breath, much less crawling around the platform. I assumed that they were ready to fire as well. The intruders on the sides were advancing to the barn. If I didn’t have a whole truckload of bad guys in front of me, I would have been panicking over the guy on my side, who was about twenty feet short of disappearing around the corner of the barn.

  A tall, rangy man in a gray cowboy hat stepped around the well shed. He was unarmed, unless you count the revolver slung low on his right hip. The man was seriously gaunt, to the point of looking almost inhuman. His eyes were sunk way back in his head, and lost in the shadow of his hat brim. His men were arrayed behind him in the best cover formation they could manage. The man stepped forward like he was preparing to address the city council. He stopped about forty feet from the barn doors, and fingered the weathered rope we had strung among the buildings. He looked up, almost revealing his eyes and said, “Howdy, neighbors! Name’s Eugene Curfman. We ain’t lookin’ fer trouble.”

  Dad spoke up. “Looks like you came for trouble from here!”

  “Pays to be ready, these days. Who am I talkin’ to?” Eugene asked the barn.

  “David Carter. What can I do for you, Mr. Curfman?”

  “Well, we was just looking around the neighborhood, seeing who’s still about, and who might need some help... Like that, Ya know?”

  “Well, were doing just fine. You don’t need to worry about us, friend.” Dad said.

  “I’d prefer to see fer myself. How about you open up them barn doors, so we can come in and check on things.”

  “No, I don’t think I’m going to do that,” Dad replied. “I’d prefer if you and your men went back the way you came. Don’t worry about the gate. We’ll take care of it.”

  “I’d like to take your advice, friend,” Eugene said, “But, ya see... I ran out of cigarettes a while back and it makes me kinda touchy. You not inviting me and my boys in, well... You’re hurtin’ my feelings. Why’d you hurt old Eugene’s feelings?”

  “All right, Eugene. Here’s the thing. I don’t know you. I don’t trust you and your boys, pointing their rifles at me, and frankly, you’re just being rude. Bad manners piss me off.” Dad said. Kirk and I looked at each other like, what happened to Dad?

  Eugene laughed in a dry, raspy hack. “Ya know, there used to be a thing called southern hospitality. But, hey, if you don’t want to be hospitable, that’s ok by me. We’ll just get in our truck and head out. Try not to shoot us in the back.” The man started backing away. He gave a little two fingered wave to the men on the sides and slipped behind the well shed. I could practically feel Kirk focusing his entire will on his trigger finger. He wanted to shoot that man. He really did.

  I heard a bang on the sheet metal roof of the barn, followed by scrabbling footsteps. While I was watching Eugene, my guy had escaped from view and climbed on the barn roof. It was easy to do. Kirk and I had done it last summer, until we got tired of the adventure. The footsteps were traveling up the barn to the peak. Then, they were walking along the ridge in my direction. The boy from this morning dangled his legs over the roof, hung from his hands, and saw both of us lying on the plywood platform. I imagine he saw two little boys, and that triggered his foul grin. He took a quick swing out and landed, boots first, right between us. I remember just having time to register how bad he smelled before he kicked me in the face.

  Well, he aimed for my face. I flinched to the side and he hit my shoulder instead. I could feel myself sliding off the edge of the platform, some eighteen feet in the air, and I grabbed for something to hold. The only thing in reach was the boy’s ankles. I had them, but my hands were slipping on the waxy leather. That was the first time I ever really saw Kirk move. I was busy watching my young life flashing in little strobe-light bursts, but it’s not like they say. I wasn’t seeing my past. I was seeing right that moment in broken instants. In one of those instants, I memorized everything there was to know about those boots. In the next, Kirk was not moving as much as he was flowing like gray liquid. In the instant after that, the skinny boy was impaled back-first on those jagged boards my dad had intended as camouflage. His ankles were horizontal now, making it easier to hold on. Another flash had me back on the platform, but I’m sure I didn’t do it. The final flash was the muzzle flash from Kirk’s automatic, blowing the top of the boy’s head off.

  Old Eugene didn’t take too kindly to watching his son die in a few chaotic seconds. He also didn’t like the way his boy’s ragged remains were dangling out of the top of that barn. Eugene found his revolver in his hand and began firing wildly around Kirk and me. In a strange moment of realization, I discovered that his son made a pretty good shelter from gunfire, and I huddled close to the body. I tried to ignore the bits flying off. Kirk had forgotten the whole event. He was calmly aiming and firing, and men were yelling.

  Eugene was too clever to throw his life away. He dove into the cab of his still-running truck, chucked it into gear and launched in a roar of engine and a spray of flying snow. He actually ran over one of the men taking cover under the truck. The other guy rolled out in time, but all of them made one fatal error. They knew they had bitten off more than they could chew, and they knew their leader was taking off without them. In the heat of the moment that equaled a mental command to run after that roaring diesel lifeline. In normal circumstances, the speed and chaos might have saved them. With Kirk pulling the trigger, nothing was normal.

  I watched his face as he worked. I was still recovering from my near fall to the floor, but he was fully in the moment. The task at hand was clear to him. The rules of engagement had been crossed and he finally was free to do what he was born to do. Aim and fire, aim and fire. Eugene escaped. No one else did.

  We all took a few minutes to gather our wits as we heard th
e truck fade into the distance. Dad seemed to have crossed some threshold where this kind of thing was business as usual. He took several deeps breaths and started putting our lives back in order.

  “Kirk, you keep the watch. For today only, if anyone approaches, you shoot.” Dad said.

  “Ok, Dad.” Kirk seemed at peace with himself. I imagined him as some kind of vampire who could only be cooled into satisfaction by the taking of blood.

  “And Kirk,” Dad added. “Nice work.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Dad rounded us up into a group below Kirk’s post. “Ok, folks. Kirk and I followed that kid to Eugene’s camp this morning. We watched the kid make his report and as soon as we figured that they were loading up to come here in force, we took off running. At the end, we were racing the sound of that damn truck.”

  Arturo asked, “Where is the camp?”

  “About five hundred meters from our treehouse, on the bluff above the river, opposite side of the road.” Dad replied.

  “So, just under a mile from here, give or take.” Arturo used his fingers for the math.

  “Yeah. We were lucky they are a lot hungrier than we are.”

  “How many in the camp?” Arturo asked.

  “At least forty, maybe fifty.” David answered.

  “Shit! We need to move.”

  “Yeah, it looks that way. Even with Kirk doing his thing, we can’t fight off that many. Even if we won, it would cost something we can’t afford.”

  “Exactly. So, the big question is where.” Arturo looked around the barn, as if he could get an answer.

  “I’m for increasing the distance between us and them. I thought we might try that road down to the northwest, just past that subdivision full of cheap houses. It looks like that road will cross Brewer Creek at some point. We may not have this well, but at least we’ll have the creek.” Dad said.

  “Ok. I can’t argue with that. How are we going to get our stuff there?” Arturo asked, full of practical questions.

  “Same way we got here.”

  Chapter 7 – 8

  Terry was wide awake in the dark room. His eyes traced the two rectangles of moonlight on the opposite wall at least a hundred times. His mind tumbled and swirled, chattering endlessly and denying him the one thing he wanted; sleep and the end of this long day.

  His brain dissected every word of Charlie’s statements, over and over. It replayed his encounter in Tullahoma at least as many times, and it fretted about the future, all of the future, starting with his intimidating meeting with Kirk in the morning.

  Supper had dissolved after Charlie left. Bill had become quiet and thoughtful, and refused to discuss anything beyond the food on the table. Aggie and Sally went from glowing with incandescent charm to a distracted reflection of the weighty events that were flowing around them. Terry had probably looked just like Bill, lost in his own thoughts; thoughts that were still working overtime hours later. He alternated between serious attempts to sleep, which almost guaranteed that he would stay awake, and long periods of time when he just let his mind run wild. It’s not like he was thinking about trivial matters. Terry was feeling the weight on his shoulders. He could not believe how fast he had gone from total ignorance, to hitting the jackpot when he found this community in northwest Coffee County, to a state where the prize was as much his responsibility as anyone else’s.

  It was safe enough in Teeny Town that he reacted calmly when his bedroom door opened partway and a slim white figure slipped in through the gap. He knew it was Sally before she crossed the moonlight and revealed herself in a long cotton gown. She startled when he threw back a corner of his covers, but recovered quickly and slid into bed beside him. Terry flipped the blankets back up to her chin and turned on his side to face her.

  “You awake, Terry?” Sally asked just above a whisper, as if she didn’t know.

  “Can’t sleep.” He replied in that same quiet voice.

  “Me neither. I’m too worried.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “What are you worried about?”

  “Everything. What was Charlie saying? What are we going to do if it comes to fighting? How long ‘til Daddy is back on his feet?”

  “Well, I think Charlie was saying he killed those men himself, which solves problems and creates new ones. I have no idea about the fighting. That’s your department, Tough Girl. And, your dad will be fine. He’s been telling me about the Breakdown years. He’s survived a lot worse than our problems.”

  Sally turned on her side, facing Terry, and slid her arms around his neck. She gave him a hug. Terry took it as a comfort hug, and returned it gently, then retreated a bit to let her know he was not making a move. She probably didn’t know that simply looking in her eyes from four inches away was more than he had hoped. He was marveling at the power of the sensation when she asked, “What are you worried about?”

  “All of that, and the fact that I can only shoot when a weird noise goes off in my head, and then only for a few seconds. Plus, I have to talk to Kirk about it tomorrow. To be honest, that guy scares me.”

  Sally laughed softly and said, “Don’t worry about Kirk. He cultivates his killer persona on purpose. When you get to know him, you’ll like him. As for the fighting, all I’ve heard it that it’s every bit as amazing as what Kirk does, and Daddy told me you saved him in Nashville. Maybe that’s what it’s about. Maybe when you see someone in trouble, you go into overdrive.”

  “Maybe. It’s really weird. It’s like someone else takes control, and I’m not sure if that someone is me.”

  “I wouldn’t worry, Terry. Talk to Kirk and see what he can tell you. Then you can worry about being possessed.”

  “Ok, thanks. I do have one other worry...”

  “What’s that?”

  “What happens if your folks find us like this?”

  “Well, since neither one of us is naked, I don’t think it would be too bad. Maybe thirty lashes each.”

  “We could fix that... The naked thing.” Terry said with a grin.

  “You could try, and find out why everyone is really afraid of the Terror of Teeny Town.” Sally’s own smile took the threat away.

  “Oh, me so scared!” Terry said, and smothered her giggles with a quick kiss.

  Her smile was gone when he pulled back, replaced with something else. The second time, she came to him, and the kissing went on for quite some time.

  ***

  Terry was by himself when the sun came up, for obvious reasons. Nothing beyond kissing had occurred, but he was still tingling from the experience, and he wondered if he would be able to think of anything else that day. He pulled on his clothes, and stepped quietly down the stairs, trying to avoid waking anyone else. Aggie was in the kitchen. He should have known. She was making a combination of breakfast and lunch. The former she set on the counter, and the latter she stuffed into several cloth sacks.

  “Morning, Mr. Shelton. Help yourself.”

  “Good Morning, Aggie. I see you’re back in your work clothes,” Terry said, grabbing a couple of bacon stuffed biscuits from the plate on the counter.

  “I’d hate to disappoint you with my old lady clothes.”

  “Well, you look at least two years younger this morning, so that would make you, what? Thirty-one?” Terry said with a glib expression.

  “Sit down and eat, you smooth talker. I can’t take that kind of thing at my advanced age, which I’ll have you know is thirty-two.”

  “My mistake,” Terry mumbled through a mouthful of biscuit.

  Aggie smiled through her lunch packing and finally slid one of the bags across the counter in Terry’s direction. “This one’s for you. You may be at Kirk’s for a while.”

  “Thank you.” Terry said.

  “No, thank you.”

  “What for? I didn’t make you breakfast.”

  “Well, just for being a good man. Good for my entire family, especially the redhead I heard singing in the shower this morning.”

  Terry felt gu
ilty for last night’s make out session. It must have shown on his face. “Uh, well...”

  “Terry, I know nothing bad happened.”

  “Uh, ok... That’s right, you know.”

  “I know. Mothers know everything. It’s a gift.”

  “I think I’ll just eat my breakfast under the table,” Terry said, blushing fiercely.

  “No need. I have to head over to Town Hall. I’ll see you tonight.” With that, Aggie walked out of the kitchen with a slightly superior wave, and worked the front door softly as she departed.

  Terry was at a loss. He settled for another biscuit, trying not to think about the awkward fishbowl situation in the Carter house. When he was done, he drank a couple of glasses of water at the sink, still enjoying the working faucet. He settled his belt and checked his knife and handgun, in case of some kind of inspection from Kirk. He picked up his sack lunch with another thought of thanks for Aggie. Then he walked out the kitchen door and headed towards the lakes. Thanks to the Bertha washing, he knew exactly where Kirk lived, and once he passed the active farm fields, he angled west to intercept the access road near the cabin in the woods.

  As he walked up to Kirk’s little house, he half-expected to be ambushed as a test. He stepped slowly and searched every tree for whatever Kirk might have thought up in his devious killer mind. It turned out to be a non-event. Terry could read the note on Kirk’s door before he reached the porch.

  “Terry, must check on some things. Back soon. Please wait.”

  Terry knew he could probably just walk into Kirk’s cabin and make himself at home. That seemed to be the way of things in the community, but it just didn’t feel appropriate. He sat on the porch steps until his patience ran out. He stepped down and began to circle the house. On the west side, he found a huge old stump, probably the source of the lumber in the cabin. On the stump, a tattered paperback book was flipping in the breeze. It was dead center on the stump, and lined up perfectly with the house. Either Kirk was a neat freak of the highest order, or it was left specifically for Terry to read. Since he was bored with waiting, Terry picked it up and sat on the stump to read.