by Tim Tingle
“There’s something moving in there!”
“Probably some kind of animal.”
Suddenly, a wrapped body began to rise up out of the coffin. Just as the old men’s lights trained on it, the bloodshot eyes popped open, and the creature raised his wrapped arms. “AAARRRGGGHHH!” it snarled.
Unable to speak, the two old men reached for their oars and laid into them like men possessed! They were getting away from that thing as fast as they could. Finally a safe distance from it, and both gasping for breath, one of them grabbed at his chest, and was able to utter, “Shit! What the hell was that?”
“You’re asking me? I don’t know, but if I’d had my gun, I’d a shot the hell out of it!”
“The hell you would! You were too busy drawing water with that oar!”
“You wasn’t exactly slacking off yourself!”
“Well, whatever it was, it’s goin’ on down the river!”
“That’s a good place for it.”
“You ready to go back to camp?”
“We got three more jugs to put out.”
“To hell with them jugs! In fact, to hell with fishing! I ain’t comin’ back out here tonight!”
“Yeah, we can check our jugs in the morning, after sun-up. Let’s head in.”
They paddled in silence for a few minutes, then one said to the other, “You going to tell anybody about this?”
“About what?”
“Yeah, that’s about what I figured too. I ain’t seen nothin’ either!”
* * *
The casket was visibly shaking, because Chris was laughing so hard. He really got them good! But the old men couldn’t hear him laughing because they were too busy paddling as fast as they could. The bow of their little boat raised out of the water, they were paddling so fast. They looked like those canoeing dudes on Hawaii Five-O! he thought, as he watched them streak across the water. Too bad his brothers hadn’t seen it! He was going to have a hard time conveying to them just how funny that looked.
Thinking of his brothers, just where were they, anyway? Chris still didn’t know how he got into the river, but it was safe to bet that this wasn’t a hoax by his brothers, because the casket was a wreck. They were all in hot water for damaging the casket, so where were they? Had the truck wrecked, or run into the river, and killed everyone else? Was he the lone survivor? At this point, he had no idea. That started him thinking that perhaps he should pull up on a sand bar and leave the river, to see what was going on. He began looking for a suitable place to land, but realized that with no oar, he wasn’t able to steer, and if he leaned over far enough to try paddling with his hands, he ran the risk of capsizing. The current was carrying him well, so he just went with the flow. Besides, he saw another light down the river, and the moonlight shined on something that spanned the river.
It was the New Slab! And there was someone on the slab, so all he had to do was continue drifting. That was probably his brothers on the slab, waiting to laugh at him, and fish him out.
* * *
Calvin had climbed back up the steep hill, and met Cory coming down to help.
“Did you find him?”
“Nope!”
“No! What do you mean, no? We can plainly see where the casket slid down the hill!”
Calvin was having to catch his breath. “The river! . . . The casket went all the way to the river!”
“That far? Man, it’s going to be a job, hauling it all the way up from the river! I guess it was smashed up, huh? And what about Chris, is he okay?”
Calvin was shaking his head. “No, the casket’s not there! Floated down the river, with Chris in it!”
“You are kidding me! Is that wild or what?”
“Joey took your flashlight, and is following him on the bank! He wants us to drive around and try to pick Chris up down the river somewhere!”
“Okay, we can do that! Come on.”
They were both out of breath by the time they got to the truck. Cory fired it up and burned rubber, as they got back on the pavement, heading toward the New Slab, since they decided that was the best place to get down to the river with their truck.
“Better slow it down, Cory! You don’t need to wreck your dad’s truck.”
“Remember, we have a curfew. We need to find Chris, and get back home as soon as possible. I don’t guess we’ll have enough time to hit the Tiger Hut, do we?”
Calvin looked at him incredulously. “Are you kidding Cory? The casket is smashed up, Chris could be dead, and you’re still worried about the Tiger Hut? And ain’t no way we are making the curfew!”
“Calm down, things ain’t never as bad as they seem. We’ll work things out!”
As he spoke, they passed a car so close that they almost side-swiped it.
“That was close!” Cory said.
“And it was a police car too! He’s got his lights on! He’s coming back after us, Cory!”
“That’s not good! The last thing I need right now is a ticket!” He shoved the gas pedal to the floor, and the trucks four-barrel carburetor kicked in. The old truck came alive, and they were eating up the asphalt.
“Cory! What are you doing? You can’t out-run the police!”
“I can for a little ways, and the county line is just over this hill! That’s an Arlington County car! He can’t chase us after we get into Byram County!”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Anybody knows that!”
“Cory! Yes he can!”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure! Are you going to test him to find out?”
Cory eased off the gas, and the truck slowed to the speed limit. By now, the police car was quickly closing in on his bumper.
“Are you going to pull over?”
“After I pass the Byram County line. See, there is the sign, and a good spot to pull over just on the other side of the sign. See? I’m pulling over.”
The Deputies got out on both sides, and approached the truck as though they meant business. “Oh shit!” Cory said, as he rolled down the window.
“Keep your hands where we can see them!” an officer said.
“Was I doing something wrong, officer?”
“You almost sideswiped me back there, and when I turned on my lights, I clocked you as going almost 80 miles per hour. Are you in a hurry, young man?”
“Well, kind’a, but not any more.”
“Have you been drinking?”
“No, sir.”
“What about your friend in there?”
“No, Sir!” Calvin replied.
“Where are you two headed?”
“Do you want the truth?”
“Yes, I would prefer the truth, but if a lie is more entertaining, then tell us a lie. It’s a slow night. We got nothing better to do. And by the way, while you are spinning this ‘truth’, let me see your driver’s license and registration.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you the truth . . .”
“Thank you!”
“The truth is, officer, we are kind of in a hurry to get to the New Slab, because we need to pick up Calvin’s brother.”
“I’m Calvin Lee. He means my brother!” Calvin added.
“Is he camping there?”
“Uh, no, he’s floating down the river.”
“So your name is Cory Walters?”
“Yes sir.”
“Address and phone number correct?”
“Yes sir.”
“Who owns this truck you are operating?”
“My dad, Lewis Walters.”
“So you are rushing to pick up this guy’s brother at the New Slab?”
“Yes sir.”
“Why is he floating down the river? Is he fishing?�
�
“No, he was riding in a casket, and up on Turkey Ridge, the casket slid out of the back of the truck, because Calvin forgot to close the tailgate.”
“I did not forget! I remember closing the tailgate!”
“Anyway, the casket fell out the back, and slid down the hill into the river, and so, we need to get to the New Slab to pick him up when he gets there. We think he’s still in the casket, floating down the river.”
“Is your brother dead?”
“I hope not! That’s why we need to get to the New Slab, to find out if he is okay.”
“So your brother was alive, and riding in a burial casket?”
“Yes.”
“I got lots of questions. First of all, where did you guys get a casket?”
“My mom bought it for my dad, as a birthday present.” Calvin said.
“Ooo-kay. Now, why was your brother riding in the casket?”
“There wasn’t room for all four of us in the cab, so Chris was riding in the casket.”
“Who is the fourth person you mention?”
“My other brother, Joey. He’s coming down the river too.”
“Riding in a casket too, I presume?” the officer asked, smiling at the other officer.
“No, he is running along the bank, trying to catch up with the casket.”
“Oh, I see. I can visualize that.”
“That’s why you need to let us go,” Cory said, “So we can be there when the casket arrives.”
“Well, okay, Mr. Walters! I will try to write out your ticket as quickly as possible, so you can be on your way. I would hate for you to miss the arrival of the casket.”
“Wait! You can’t write me a ticket! You’re out of your jurisdiction! This is Byram County, and your uniform says, ‘Arlington County’!”
“Is that so? You were in Arlington County when we observed you breaking the law, so you are getting a ticket!”
“In fact,” the older officer said, “You’re not just getting a ticket, we are taking you in. The posted speed limit here is 35, and we clocked you at going 80.”
“But just for a mile or so.”
“Regardless, you were speeding excessively. And according to the law, when you exceed the posted limit by more than 25 miles per hour, we are supposed to arrest you and take you to jail. You, sir, were going 45 miles per hour over the speed limit, so by law, we have to take you in. Please step out of the vehicle.”
“Does that mean you are arresting me?”
“You’re sharp as a tack, kid! Now out of the truck!”
“Wait a minute, this officer was just going to give me a ticket, and you want to arrest me? What is this?”
The younger officer said, “We might have cut you some slack, but then you told that whopper of a tale, so now we are going to arrest you for excessive speeding, reckless driving, and lying to an officer of the law! Now, step out of the truck, please!”
“We’re not lying!” Calvin said.
“You get out too, kid!”
Cory was indignant as he got out. “My dad isn’t going to like this! It’s called police harassment! He’s the undertaker in Laurel Grove, you know! He’s got friends in high places!”
“Turn and face the truck, hands behind your back.”
“Handcuffs? You are putting handcuffs on me?”
“Shut up Cory!” Calvin said.
“You better listen to your friend and shut up, son! As a matter of fact, let me just go ahead and read you your rights. ‘You have the right to remain silent. Should you choose not to remain silent, anything you say can, and will be used against you, in a court of law . . .”
“You can’t put handcuffs on me! How will I drive my dad’s truck?”
“A wrecker will come get your dad’s truck.”
“. . . If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed to you by the court . . .”
“A lawyer! What do I need a lawyer for?”
“Shut up, Cory! Just shut up!”
* * *
As Chris drifted with the current, he watched the lights on the New Slab, as he approached it. It appeared that someone had a fire built on the Slab, and was fishing off the down-river side. A truck was parked on the slab near by, with the radio turned way up, on a country music station.
The New Slab was actually a massive solid concrete road that had been poured across the river. It had been built illegally, in the early ‘70’s, by a coal mining company, to conveniently haul strip mined coal across the river to the coal washing plant. It had dozens of 5 foot diameter pipes laid through the concrete, to allow the water to pour through it when the river was normal. But in times of flood, the water rushed over the top of the massive structure. When the strip mine went out of business, the Slab was abandoned there, to be used by locals to cross the river, fish off of, and to party on. (The reason this was called the ‘New Slab’, was because there was also an ‘Old Slab’ farther up river. It was built for the same reason, by a different coal company, back in the 1930’s.)
As he neared the Slab, he yelled out, “Hello! I need some help here!” He thought the people on the Slab might help him out of the river, when the casket got to the structure, but for all his yelling, the people on the Slab didn’t hear him until it was too late. Between the loud radio, and the roar of water rushing through the pipes, the noise was too great to hear his voice. And then another danger became evident: If the casket turned broadside against one of those massive spillway pipes, the power of the river would rip it in half, and probably bang him up, dash him against the downstream rocks, and possibly drown him. He was going to have to do like he had seen canoers do, try to align his ‘boat’ so that it would flow straight through one of the pipes, and out the other side. So he began trying to steer, by dragging his hand in the water on one side or the other. As he approached one of the giant pipes, he was not perfectly straight, but close enough. He hunkered down in the casket, to endure what he knew was going to be a wild and violent ride.
The casket entered the pipe, but not straight, which caused him to bang side to side, as he went through. He just hoped the casket did not wedge sideways inside the pipe, or he would be trapped, and possibly drown. But he swooshed through so quickly that he was out the other side, and a hundred feet below it, before he realized it. Safely through, he raised up to look back at the astonished fishermen on the Slab. There was no way they could help him, so he just waved at them, as he was swept on down the river by the white water.
Chris didn’t know where his brothers were, but he knew one thing. He was going to have to get out of the river on his own. And now there was a new concern, as he could feel cold water in the bottom of the casket. It was leaking! And why not, considering the rough obstacle course he had been through. He felt around in the dark, and found the styra-foam Dari-Delite cup his Coke had been in, and used the cup to start bailing water out of the casket. He needed to stay afloat until he could reach shallow water somewhere. And from what he remembered about the river below the New Slab, there was such a place about a mile farther down, if he could make it that far. And tonight, there should be plenty of people there to help him.
* * *
Back up-stream, Joey was still following the river, looking for any sign of the casket or his brother. He was soaked with sweat, and scratched up from encounters in the dark with saw-toothed briars. He had also side-stepped a few snakes, and was lucky he had not stepped on one. He was starting to wonder if the casket might have sank in the river, and drowned Chris. This was going to be very hard to explain to his mom, or to his dad, when he got back from England. How could such a simple prank, go so badly wrong? The way it had happened was almost unbelievable, but he was learning a valuable lesson about life: If anything can go wrong, it will go wrong.
And on top everything else, now Cory’s fl
ashlight was starting to get weak. He would be in a bad situation, if his light went out. It would be too dangerous to be tromping through the river valley at night without a light. He just hoped that Cory and Calvin were able to find Chris, if he didn’t, because he was starting to get the bad feeling that Chris could actually be dead. This thought spurred him on, to move faster. If Chris was out here, he had to find him.
Up ahead, he saw the glow of a small camp fire on the bank of the river, and he was grateful for the possibility for help. As he neared the camp, he saw two old men sitting in front of the fire, with their backs to him, so they had not seen him approach. Joey clicked off the dim flashlight, to conserve his batteries as he walked up.
“Hello there!” he yelled. The response of the two men was not what he expected. They leaped up from the fire as though he had shot at them, and one yelled back, “W-who’s there!” The other man picked up a shotgun and pointed it his way.
“Speak up, or I’ll shoot!”
“My name is Joey Lee!
“What you doin’ out here this time of the night, boy?”
“I’m looking for my brother! I think he’s in the river. Have you seen him?”
The two geezers’ mouths fell open, as they both gazed with owl-like eyes upon what they thought was a ghostly apparition from the river.
IT WAS THE DROWNED BOY, LOOKING FOR HIS KID BROTHER!
They slowly backed away, never taking their eyes off Joey. Finally one of them could stand it no longer, and broke and ran for the truck. The other was right behind him, moving a lot faster than geezers should move. They jumped into the truck, started it, and the tires slung gravel and sand, as they tore out of there. They disappeared up the road, and didn’t look back.
Joey was bewildered. What was wrong with them? They acted like they’d seen a ghost! Oh well. He walked into their empty camp and looked around. He picked up the shotgun from where the old man had dropped it. Yep! It’s loaded. He took it over near the fire, and propped it up. What caused them to run away at the sight of me? Do I look that bad? He looked around for a flashlight he could borrow, to replace Cory’s dead one. He was going to explain the situation, and try to borrow one, but since they had run out on him like that, and since this was kind of an emergency, he picked up one of the cap lights and turned it on. Oh yeah, that was much better! He shined it across the river, and was amazed at how well it worked. He immediately set out down the river with the fresh light.