by Paul A. Rice
There was also a strange stirring in his loins, a hunger, one that seemed to have been brought about by the rather-revealing picture of a young lady on the second to last page of the magazine. Those long, smooth legs reached up into her tiny skirt. The white tennis shoes on the girl’s feet were brilliantly contradicted by the glossy red of her lips, and a shock of black hair, tumbling onto her slender shoulders – he almost smelled the fragrant lustre of that hair. Red didn’t remember noticing her previously, and that surprised him.
‘How come I ain’t seen her before? I must o’ read this here book a thousand times or more…’ The thoughts confused him. Still, he had found her now, and she took his breath away. It was a picture that did not leave a lot to the imagination, an imagination the young man was just starting to develop. He stared at it and felt the heat within himself. She almost seemed to smile at him and the boy swore he was able to hear her voice.
‘Any day now, my sweet, one day I will see you. One day soon…’
It was a distraction that helped to save Red from the inner pages of the magazine – he now began to spend more time looking at the girl than he did reading those familiar words about the Army, and the men in grey suits.
The time dragged by and he savoured it.
Occasionally, depending upon the wind, he would catch the sound of a vehicle slowing down on the main road as it approached the farm’s distant turning. The noise would make him pause and stand with his head tilted towards the gate, trying to catch the sound of his father’s cog-crunching gear change. There was no mistaking that noise and his pulse quickened in fearful anticipation of it every time he heard the sound of an engine. For a long time it never came, the noise of the engine accelerating away, humming softly into the distance as whoever it was, kept on driving towards town. After a while he learned to discard that awful sense of trepidation that filled him every time he heard the sound.
Red had taken to living off the land, and to his great shame the boy had used his father’s shotgun on several occasions. After each successful hunting trip, he would carry his prey back to the kitchen, whereupon the brace of wild birds, which he had shot, would be treated with a respectful reverence as he plucked and gutted their ruby-feathered bodies. They, like the fish, provided a feast fit for a king. After cleaning his plate, he would carefully inspect the remains of his meal, proceeding to pick it spotlessly clean with his teeth, enjoying the birds even more than the fish, sitting and noisily sucking the marrow from within their fragile carcasses. By the time Red had finished there were never more than a handful of splintered bones remaining in witness to the meal.
He also kept a careful eye on the small supply of vegetables that remained in the plot behind the kitchen. There were still a few turnips in there, along with a handful of carrots and some onions, too. At one stage, the boy had eaten nothing but apples for three days on end, the tree down by the lake was starting to bear fruit and he made the most of its tasty gifts. He was careful with all the plants and animals on the farm, and they rewarded him with their bounty. It was a meagre existence, but he revelled in the freedom. Plus, he had the woman in the magazine to keep him distracted when times became too lonely.
One day the noise of the slowing vehicle didn’t fade away.
As he stood and listened, Red heard the dreaded sound of wheels rumbling across the cattle grid. In horror he listened to the engine accelerate as the vehicle began its journey down the dirt track leading towards the farm.
‘Poppa’s back, shit!’ He raced into the house and hurriedly put the twelve-gauge back into the cupboard. Eyes racing around the house, looking for any mess, the boy stood and trembled. ‘No! I don’t want him back. No, please, I’m happy here, please no!’ He very nearly sobbed the thoughts out loud. Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the porch and prepared for his father. Red felt himself shaking as he tried to force the fear away.
As it headed his way, the noise of the approaching vehicle began to growl. The boy knew that if the noise did belong to his father, then the older man must have bought himself a new truck. The engine noise echoing towards him sounded nothing like the worn-out old smoke-blower, which his father mistreated so badly. Red sometimes felt more sympathy for the old Chevy than he did for himself. No, this engine sounded like the most sweetly tuned V8 he’d ever heard.
‘Yeah, listen to that baby growl!’ he thought, watching the trail of dust head towards the farm. Then, in a cloud of the same red dust, and amidst the loud honking of an air-horn, the young man’s life changed, and changed radically.
Red’s face broke into a toothy grin as he ran down from the wooden steps and onto the weed-riddled patch of earth in front of the house. A brown pickup truck skidded to a halt in front of the young man’s bare feet.
It was the truck he had hitched a lift in before, weeks before.
‘I thought they’d forgotten…’ he thought. Mind awhirl, he ran towards the truck. Racing onto the driveway, he heard their words of greeting.
‘Hey there, big guy, how are things going?’ the driver shouted through the open window. With a wide grin, the man stepped out of the truck. Leaving the door open behind him, he stood and waited for the other two people to join him. The tall man with the jet-black hair, and the white-toothed smile, came around the front of the truck where he was soon joined by an equally dark-haired woman.
Red smiled, huge teeth shining whitely in the bright sunshine. ‘Howdy folks, howdo ma’am…’ he said, happily. ‘Gee, it’s so good to see you all – I ain’t seen folk fer days, week’s maybes!’ Red grinned again and ran over to shake hands with them. ‘How are you doing ma’am? You weren’t looking’ so fine before, the last time I seen ya, you look better now tho’, a whole heap better! If’n you don’ mind me saying so, sir?’ he said to the woman, whilst looking at the driver hesitantly. The big man still had an icy air about him, and although he was smiling, the expression stopped at his eyes.
‘Still, he shore is friendly enough,’ Red thought. The kid guessed it was just his own imagination and turned to listen whilst the woman told him that her fever was all better now.
The tall, dark-haired man with wide shoulders said his name was Mike. Then the woman reached out with her hand, and upon shaking Red’s large paw, told him that her name was Jane. Putting her arm around the slightly shorter of the two men, she introduced the other man. ‘This is my husband, and he goes by the name of Ken, or Kenny,’ she said, with a smile.
Ken reached out and Red felt the steel once again. ‘How are you, sir?’ he asked, looking at the man.
‘Yeah, I’m good, Red – how about you, pal?’ Ken said, staring at the boy.
Red said he was fine and looked at the truck sitting behind them, engine ticking as it cooled. He looked back to Ken, saying: ‘That shore sounds like a finely-tuned motor, yes sir, it must be finely fettled!’ Ken said he would let him see under the hood some time, he actually said ‘bonnet’, but Red guessed he meant hood as Ken had slapped the brown metal cover when he said it.
Interrupting them, the woman reached into the back of the truck. ‘Red, honey, would you give me a hand with some of this stuff?’ she said, lifting out some bags of shopping.
He leapt across in his haste to help. ‘Yes ma’am, what do you need?’ he asked. She passed him two brown paper grocery bags, they bulged with their contents and he grasped them carefully to his chest. ‘Where do you want them to go, ma’am?’ he said, standing and looking confusedly at her.
‘Well,’ Jane replied, ‘you can stand there all day and let those beautiful steaks go bad, or…’ she laughed, ‘…you can take them inside before everything falls through the bottom of those bags!’
He looked at her in bewilderment and shook his head.
Jane laughed again. ‘Yes, Red, they’re for you, my love – now, come on, chop-chop!’ she said, shooing him inside. ‘Come on, guys, let’s get this food into the house, I’m starving!’ Jane chivvied the men, whilst handing them some more bags.
Re
d heard them laugh; with a smile of his own he politely held the door open with his large foot. They, all three, filed past him with arms full of supplies. ‘Supplies for me – oh, wow!’ he thought, juices flooding into his mouth. With a happy grin, Red rushed in behind the others, leaving the fly screen to clash shut of its own accord.
In no time at all, Jane had organised the unpacking and it wasn’t too long before Red’s previously-bare cupboards began to take on a much healthier look. There was every conceivable item of food he had ever wanted. This consisted of a large array of tinned goods, fresh steak, red tomatoes, cartons of apple juice and almost everything in-between. He recognised all of them, and if he hadn’t known better, Red would have thought the woman had somehow managed to peer inside his head, picking out all his favourite food stuffs as she did so. There was even a stack of freshly-cut farm ham. The only items that Jane didn’t find a home for were the pile of fresh meats and dairy produce.
‘Where’s the fridge, big guy?’ Mike asked, looking around.
‘Fridge…?’ Red said, looking at him in confusion.
‘Yeah, you know? Where you put stuff in to keep it cold,’ Mike said, whilst smiling at the blank look the young man gave him.
‘Oh, you mean the cooler, like Missus Jones has in the shop. Oh, well, I mean…we don’t have one o’ them here, Mister Mike, sir!’ Red’s face flushed with colour. They laughed and Jane told them not to worry as she was going to make some sandwiches anyway.
Ken went back out to the truck and returned with arms full of fishing equipment. Red said he should dump it on the porch and gave him a hand to ferry it across. ‘Are we still okay with the deal we made, buddy?’ Ken asked.
Red looked hesitant.
Ken helped him. ‘You know, we’ll bring the grub and you let us put some lines in your lake, remember?’ he said, with a smile.
Red grinned again, saying: ‘I shore do sir, and a deal is a deal!’
Ken looked at him and Red saw for that first time the man’s smile actually reached his eyes. They twinkled with a green light – he thought of the dream and quickly shut the door in its face.
As they were organising the fishing equipment, Ken rose to his feet. He stood scratching his head for a while. ‘Oh, damn, I’ve forgotten the floats!’ he said. ‘You go and get some of that food and tell Jane I’ve just gone into town. I’ll be back in a bit, Okay?’ He walked over to the brown truck and with a roar of the engine, hurtled back towards the main road.
Red watched the dust that Ken’s passing left. It rose into the air like clouds, red storm clouds. He watched them hang over the hedges for a while, and then, with stomach rumbling, he turned back into the house. He was just tucking into his fifth sandwich, the thickly-cut bread filled with tasty ham, which Jane had smothered with something called ‘English mustard’, when they heard Ken arriving back from his trip.
He shouted from outside: ‘Give us a hand, will you, guys?’
Red rose quickly, still chewing on his latest mouthful, and ran to the door. Pushing the screen to one side, he looked down at Ken. He saw that the man was manoeuvring a large white box over the lip of the cargo area on the truck. ‘They must be mighty big floats…’ the boy thought, as he stepped down to help.
Fifteen minutes later and he was standing in the kitchen looking at his new ‘Re-fridge-er-ator’. The boy stood and gawped. It was so big that he felt as though it would contain a whole cow, and it made ice-cubes. After they finished ripping off all the packing materials, he sat with Ken, where together they managed to finish off the whole loaf and most of the ham, too. Jane just kept it coming until they were done. Red couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten so much, and in-between mouthfuls he talked endlessly to his guests.
He told them all about himself and his life down on the farm. He promised to show them around the place any time they wanted. ‘That’s ifen yo’all wanna come on back, of course?’ he asked. They said they would, and he believed them. He enjoyed their company and whilst his three new friends sat politely and asked him about things, Red let the words pour out in their direction. They were so friendly and he felt yet another new sensation, for the first time in his short life, the young man felt friendship.
Later, after having done with the fishing, they sat upon the banks of the little blue lake and ate some apples from the overhanging tree. Red absolutely insisted they try them. ‘They’re just the finest apples you’ll get anywhere aroun’ here!’ he said, through a mouthful of the crunchy fruit. He was right, they were delicious.
They had also been very successful with their fishing. Mike was an expert and had caught twice as many as Red and Ken. Ken laughed out loud and said something about Mike and his magic, Red didn’t know what they were laughing about, but he made them put the fish back as soon as they had landed and unhooked the flapping creatures.
‘I have enuff food for a year,’ he commented. ‘Let them be free and then maybe we’ll keep a few the next time.’ They agreed, and as they pushed the slippery fish back into the water, Red caught a glimpse of Jane smiling at her husband. ‘She knows what I mean, she knows and she’s good, I like her, yessir – I like this lady with a whole heap o’ like!’ His happy thoughts fetched another big smile to his face.
Dusk approached, releasing the long shadows of an advancing night to begin their inevitable victory march over the remnants of the day. Sitting underneath the apple tree, they watched as the sky began to darken in surrender. Looking up at that sky, Jane said that maybe they should be getting back.
All the men agreed and everyone rallied round to help Ken pack the fishing equipment into his truck. Whilst Jane drove, the three men sat in the rear of the pickup, laughing and joking as they bumped their way back to the farmhouse. Red pointed things out to them along the way, his huge hands indicating the old windmill over in the distance, now sitting and dying on the horizon, its dilapidated blades motionless without any sails to catch the plentiful wind.
‘My Gran’pappy used that ol girl,’ he said. ‘I seen the fotografs of when he made bread with the stone wheel, it’s a fine place, I been up there many a times. There are thangs to draw up there, lots o’ thangs!’ Red hairs glistened on the back of his hand as he waved it towards the skeletal building. The men smiled at him and listened as the young man’s commentary rolled on. He pointed to a river over by the windmill, and then to woods, which lay darkly against the side of a sloping gully in the distance over to their left.
The truck soon reached the house and once they’d stopped, Red suggested that perhaps they should leave the fishing gear in the barn. ‘It’ll be okay in there, there ain’t anybody here but me anyways, an’ yo’all are gonna be coming back, right?’ He pronounced the words more carefully now, trying to hide the pleading tone that had begun to creep into his voice.
Ken grinned. ‘Yeah, we’d like that, Red. That’s if you’re sure you really want us to?’ he asked, whilst dumping the rods in the barn.
Red said of course they were – he’d never had such a fine day in his entire life. And then, just before they left, Mike made it even better by taking Red into the kitchen and showing him how to use the refrigerator.
‘Just plug it in,’ he said, ‘then put the stuff you want to keep cool on those shelves, and then pour some water in there.’ He pointed at the spout. ‘Then tomorrow, when you get up, you’ll have a good supply of ice cubes. They’d go pretty good with that apple juice, I think!’ He winked at Red and the boy grinned so widely that it looked as though his teeth went from ear to ear.
Jane jostled Mike out of the way and showed Red where to pack things into the big white cooler. When they were done she reminded him of the basics, saying: ‘Just make sure that you always shut the door when you’ve used it, honey, okay?’
He smiled and said he would definitely do that. Red quite liked being Jane’s ‘honey’. He guessed that she, like Mrs Jones, made him feel like someone’s Momma would make them feel. Walking out onto the porch, they turned to him and each
said their own goodbyes. The men gripped his hand warmly and Jane even gave him a little hug. It made him freeze.
He stood still, holding her awkwardly. Red had never been hugged before, not ever. Hugs were so much nicer than arm-locks. Standing under the wooden overhang of the porch, he watched as Ken started the old truck. With that sweet engine burbling, he turned it around on the driveway, reached out of the window and gave Red a wave. Red waved back, ‘Yo’all come on back now, you hear!’ he shouted after them. The roar of the engine drowned out Ken’s reply.
Red stood and watched as they raced towards the gate. Through the dust he saw the pale shape of Jane’s face as she looked over her shoulder. He imagined that she would be smiling at him through the small rear window.
He imagined right.
Red stood looking at the truck as it disappeared into the distance; it was soon out of sight behind the trees which lined the track, but he stayed and listened to the sound of the rumble as it crossed the final cattle-grid, just managing to hear the engine note rise as Ken accelerated away down the main road. The boy scratched his head and swept the long, red hair from his face. He missed them already and wistfully turned back towards the empty farmhouse to spend a few moments tidying things away. There wasn’t much to do as Jane had done most of it already, so he opened the door of the cooler and stood looking at the array of foodstuffs that filled the shelves. ‘I…’ he said, out loud, ‘…sure is a lucky boy!’
Later that night, in the depths of his sleep, he was proved to be right. A lucky, lucky boy indeed, one who dreamed of a young lady with shining red lips and long, smooth legs – she smiled at him. There wasn’t a green stone in sight and not even the slightest glimpse of any Darkness, either.
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