by D. M. Pulley
“Ain’t nothin’ to it. Clutch. First. Gas. Wayne’s been doin’ it since he was younger than you.”
Jasper just stood there.
“Wayne, why don’t you help ’im start ’er up? Then hop on down here and give me a hand.”
“C’mon, Jas! Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little ol’ John Deere. She can’t even go that fast.”
Wayne started to make chicken sounds to shake the younger boy out of his stupor. Jasper forced a vengeful smile like a normal ten-year-old might give and hopped up onto the curved metal throne and took the wheel. He had to sit at the very lip of the seat molded to fit a giant man’s backside to reach the pedals.
“That’s right.” Wayne nodded. “Push in the clutch. Slide ’er to first. Now give ’er some gas.”
The great green beast roared to life. The two-stroke engine rumbled under Jasper’s seat so loudly he was certain it would shake his teeth loose.
“Okay! Now giv—s—th—s!”
Jasper couldn’t hear a thing over the twenty-five horses churning under his ass, but Wayne was making a turning motion with his hand. Jasper nodded and turned the wheel to reposition the tractor for another run down the field. He gave it some more gas, and the giant machine lurched forward, almost throwing him off the seat. His hand jumped off the throttle, and the tractor jerked to a stop hard enough to make Jasper hit his head on the steering wheel.
“Will you two stopping playin’ around up there?” his uncle bellowed. “Radio’s calling for rain. We got to get this field cut before supper.”
“I don’t know, Pop. Maybe I should do it,” Wayne called back.
“No. Jasper here needs to learn somethin’,” Uncle Leo insisted. His uncle was always trying to find ways to get Jasper engaged in something productive. His aunt and uncle gave him a pained look every time they caught him staring off into space or slumped against a tree. When they thought he couldn’t hear, they’d discuss what should be done about him.
He had to make a bigger effort to laugh and pal around with Wayne. He hated making them worry. He always finished his chores and schoolwork on time, earning top marks in both, but it wasn’t enough to ease their minds. Or his. It would never be enough.
Jasper threw the tractor into gear. The green beast lurched forward again, but this time he was ready for it and held tight to the wheel. The rig slowly swung around and inched its way forward, a bit unsteady but moving nonetheless.
“That’s it,” hollered Uncle Leo. “Now p—her up—econd!”
Jasper nodded and pushed in the giant clutch and slid the lever up a notch. The machine chugged slightly but then continued on a bit more quickly. Wayne slapped him on the shoulder and then hopped off the side. It was just him and the John Deere.
Driving straight was no problem. He just kept one hand on the throttle and one on the wheel. Everything was fine for three hundred yards, but he felt his arms tense as the end of the hay field drew nearer. He eased up on the gas and began to turn the wheel. The tractor ran off course a bit, so he turned the other way, but the corn tufts at the edge of the run were approaching fast. Using both hands, he cranked the wheel over. The tractor made a sharp turn. Too sharp. It began to roll up on one side.
A voice shouted from behind, but he couldn’t make out the words as the tractor tipped. Sheldon’s son had been killed the year before when his tractor rolled. Never get caught under a tractor, boys. His uncle’s words had been beaten into his head. And now it was about to happen.
Jasper cut the throttle and climbed up the tipping deck to jump. For a split second he hesitated and willed the tractor to pull him under, but he could feel its momentum shift. Just as he lifted his feet, the giant machine slammed back down on the lifted wheels, launching all seventy pounds of him into the air.
The landing knocked the wind clear out of his lungs. Colors flashed. He could smell smoke. He closed his eyes and was back in the old farmhouse, lying on the floorboards, bleeding. He could hear the horrible grinding of metal on metal.
A pair of boots marched over to him lying there on the attic floor. A gun hung over his head. The point of a boot raised up to kick him. He braced for impact. Somewhere above him, he could hear screaming.
Then he heard laughter.
“That was quite a ride, huh?”
Jasper snapped his eyes open to see his uncle’s boots. Leo reached down and pulled him off the ground. “You alright?”
“I—I think so,” Jasper heard his disoriented voice answer after the air came back to his lungs. He regained his footing, moving each arm and leg cautiously. Nothing seemed broken. His back was sore where he’d landed, but that was about it. He blinked the fog from his eyes and focused on the rows of corn stretching out to the horizon.
“Man! I never seen anybody fly like that before! That was amazing!” Wayne came running up, beaming. “You’re lucky we weren’t pulling the baler!”
“Lucky, my foot. I’d never let a greenhorn driver pull that.” Uncle Leo swatted his son’s head. “Soft ground, light load, it’s just how you learned, boy.”
Wayne chucked Jasper in the arm. “I never got to fly like Superman, though.”
Jasper tried to smile back.
“So now, Jasper.” His uncle grabbed him firmly by the shoulder. “You ever gonna take a turn that fast again?”
“No, sir.”
“That’s what I thought.” His uncle wiped his red nose with the handkerchief. “Now get back up there and drive. Don’t forget to downshift at the turn. I want you taking those slow as molasses in January. Understand?”
Jasper nodded. He climbed back up into the driver’s seat and surveyed the damage. The crushed sprouts of corn where he’d fallen left only the smallest scar in the endless field of green. Behind him he could hear his uncle and cousin laughing, replaying his amazing flight over and over. He put a smile on as he started the engine.
In his mind, a pair of black leather boots were still staring him right in the face.
CHAPTER 45
Can you describe the victim?
That evening, Jasper was playing in the barn with his baby goat, Timmy, when the storm rolled in. The low rumble of thunder sent the kid scrambling back to his nanny. By the time Jasper had the loose goats all penned back up, the wind was whistling in through the siding boards at a deafening pitch. The cows shifted their feet and bellowed restlessly. Jasper agreed with them. The air crackled with the feeling that something was about to happen.
He tried to ignore it and wandered back behind the feed bins the way he did every night. It was a penance now to look for his mother’s diary. Once again, he retraced the path of its flight from where he’d thrown it. As he searched for the spot where it had landed, he mentally flogged himself for being so careless.
“You got ’em all secured?” Wayne shouted from the doorway so Jasper would hear him over the wind. “Pop says this one looks like a doozy.”
His cousin trotted inside and double-checked the cow stalls. Jasper had learned in his months on the farm that milking cows produced the vast majority of the family’s income. He came out from the feed bins and followed behind Wayne, checking water dishes and securing the milking hoses. When both boys were satisfied, they latched the barn door and trotted back to the cabin.
“All the stalls locked?” his uncle asked. He was standing on the porch, nailing boards over the windows.
“Yes, sir!” both boys answered.
“Then get your butts inside.” Jasper could hear the anxiety in his uncle’s voice. He didn’t like thunderstorms. “That lightning is nothin’ to mess with. It can demolish a solid barn in minutes, and don’t you forget it.”
Sheldon’s barn next door had burned down thirty years earlier when it was struck by lightning. They all had lightning rods now, but Uncle Leo still brought it up during every major storm. It had nearly ruined that family.
Once they were in the safety of their room, Wayne whispered in Jasper’s ear, “Did you know Sheldon’s father hung himsel
f the day they finished building the new barn?”
“He did?”
“No one knows why either.”
Maybe he just couldn’t bear having anything left to lose, Jasper thought to himself but said nothing.
Outside their bedroom window, the world had gone deathly quiet. Not even the birds were chirping. Jasper stared out and saw an unnatural green glow in the sky. A shelf of purple clouds hung out over the fields a half mile away.
“You ever see anything like that?” Jasper asked Wayne.
His cousin pulled off his shirt and gazed out the window. He’d grown into more of a man than a boy. His voice had dropped over the winter, and he towered over Jasper’s shoulder. He let out a low whistle. “That’s somethin’. This could be a real big one.”
“What should we do?” Jasper thought of his baby goat hunkered down in the barn and felt a pang. A bolt of lightning struck a field a mile away. Not a second later, its thunder shook the cabin.
“There’s nothing we can do besides watch.” Wayne sounded more fascinated than scared. The green sky grew dark as night. Bolts of electricity jumped between the clouds. The wind picked up just as Uncle Leo finished boarding up their window. It grew steadily louder until it seemed to suck every inch of air out of the house. Not being able to see outside made it even more frightening every time the tiny cabin shuddered.
Jasper had never heard anything like it. The roaring wind was louder than ten freight trains. The window sashes began to quake. The stand of trees outside flapped like a million panicked birds.
A large hand grabbed Jasper by the shoulder and pulled him away from the rattling window. Uncle Leo shouted something that Jasper couldn’t make out over the screaming wind. His uncle grabbed him and Wayne each by the arm and dragged them into the kitchen and forced them under the table. They huddled there together with Wayne’s lanky frame draped over Jasper as the cabin lurched and trembled. Pots and pans fell from their hooks with a faint crash. The dishes tumbled from their shelves. Broken shards rained to the ground around them.
Jasper peeked out from under Wayne’s arm and tried to find his aunt and uncle. All he could see was the front door. The wind had ripped it open. It banged violently against the porch wall. Outside, the rain blew past sideways. His uncle’s truck had tipped over. Trees were being ripped up by the roots.
Another hard gust of wind slammed the door shut. The electric lights went out, and the house went dark. Jasper huddled under Wayne in the pitch-black as the wind tore open the world around them. He couldn’t hear his own thoughts. A thunderclap ripped through the house, and the wind forced its way inside. The table above them flew away into the abyss. An instant later, Jasper was falling through the sky.
CHAPTER 46
How did she die?
Braying and bleating wails echoed all around him. Jasper rolled his head away from the noise, and his ear filled with muddy water. He was lying in a puddle. The sounds of dying animals flooded the spaces between the sheets of rain dropping all around him. Am I dead? he thought, unable to move. Is this hell? Another death wail rang out only a few yards from where he lay. In the distance, the wind rattled the trees. A giant crash shook the ground.
Feeling began to register in his extremities. His legs were tangled beneath him. His arm lay at an unnatural angle. It was as though his body had been ripped apart and put back together wrong. Somewhere in the distance, a woman was crying.
Mom?
He tried to look toward the noise, but all the lights had gone out. Invisible rain drenched his face. The soft sobbing continued, but he hardly believed it was there at all. His eyes might not even be open. I’m dead.
Somewhere in the distance, a voice called out. “Jas—per!”
His mind was playing tricks on him again. He didn’t answer.
“Jas—per!” it called again.
He tried lifting his head. “Mom? Is that you?” he called, but the dry rasp of his voice was lost in the crack of a shotgun. Then another.
His mind broke open at the sound. He was outside his grandmother’s house, lying prostrate on the grass. The fire roared hot wind. Crack! He could hear the floor collapse inside. Crack! Jasper could hear her crying. She was trapped.
“No!” Jasper flailed his arms and legs, trying to get up and run. A shock of pain in his shoulder made him scream.
“I found one!” a voice called out over the gunshots. The chorus of dying animals grew quieter with each blast.
A pair of hands lifted his head from the mud. From the rush of cold air down his back, he realized he was naked. Another gunshot rang out.
“Stop,” Jasper whimpered. He realized he was crying. “Don’t shoot her.”
“Shh!” the voice murmured.
“Is he alright?” a deeper voice asked. Whoever it was sounded winded. A warm glow floated next to him, shining down at his face. Jasper recoiled from the light.
“I think so. Get me a blanket.” It was a woman’s voice talking.
A moment later, scratchy wet wool fell all around him. A yelp caught in his throat as strong hands lifted his shoulders off the ground. His arm dangled from his side in an unnatural way, and bolts of pain shot up his arm. He couldn’t breathe.
“I’m going to need a board and a wrapping,” the woman ordered.
Cold, wet mud seeped into his bare rump as she propped him up. As if she sensed his discomfort, she gently laid his head back down onto a pile of damp cloth. The voices of men shouted a few yards away.
“Grab the head!”
“Get her onto the side. We’ll have to break her down here.”
“I need a bigger knife.”
The wind carried the pungent smell of fresh blood and entrails. He could taste it. Jasper heaved up the contents of his stomach into the puddle as muddled parts of a face appeared in his head. A hairy chin. Wet lips smiling a drunk, sweaty smile. Hot breath on his neck. A pair of hands gripped him. Struggling to escape, he sat pinned on a bouncing knee.
Jasper let out a strangled scream.
“It’s okay. It’s okay, baby. They’re just butchering the cows. That’s all. They’re beyond our help now.”
Jasper forced his eyes open to stop the terrible nightmare in his head. The blackness reeled overhead. Another gunshot fired in the distance. “Why?”
“It was the storm, hon. It picked us all up and threw us back down hard.”
Jasper remembered falling from the sky. He seized as though he were plummeting again.
“Shh! Take it easy, baby. Can you feel your legs?” the woman cooed in her hoarse voice.
He turned toward her. In the yellow light of the lantern on the ground, he could only make out the side of her face. Her hair was short and unkempt. A thin scar ran down the length of her cheek. She reached down and patted his forehead gently. Mom? he thought again, but he knew it wasn’t her.
“I got what you asked for.” The man with the bright lantern trotted over with a wood board and an armful of long rags.
The woman had him set the supplies down, then swiftly slid the board under Jasper’s back. Together, the two adults rolled him onto his side and began to tie his back and bad arm down to the board. They rolled him flat and straightened his legs out.
“Can you wiggle your toes?” she asked. Not waiting for his response, she ran a fingernail down the middle of each foot until they both twitched. “Good. You’re gonna have to stay here a minute until the truck can get in.”
The woman stood up to leave. He wanted to yell after her, Don’t go! But by the time he’d mustered his voice, she’d gone.
In the distance, he heard other panicked calls out over the fields. “Cecil!”
“Mary? Where are you?”
“Eleanor? You out there?”
Tied firmly to his board, all Jasper could do was lie there. Trapped. Turning his head to the side, he saw the field nurse had left her lantern so the truck could find him. The putrid smell of bile and stomach acid spilled onto the ground as a cow was gutted nearby.
“Uncle Leo?” he called out in a weak voice. His lungs felt flooded, but he tried again. “Uncle Leo? Wayne? Are you there?”
Refusing to close his eyes for fear of what he might see, he craned his neck and tried to tell from the shadows of nearby trees and buildings where he was. His uncle’s barn and cabin were nowhere in sight. Nothing in the landscape looked familiar. A large silo loomed off on the horizon. None of his uncle’s neighbors had a silo.
“Where am I? Hello?” he called out. No one answered. Death was all around him. The air reeked of it. Fear began to squeeze his chest, making it harder and harder to breathe. They’re not dead, he told himself. They can’t be dead. He struggled against his bonds to sit up. The pain in his shoulder forced him back down. He couldn’t move.
A man’s voice breathed in his ear, Stay down, boy. This isn’t going to get any better for you.
Somewhere far behind him another gunshot rang out.
“Stop it,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. The instant he did, he was back in his grandmother’s house. The man was laughing.
“Leave me alone,” he whimpered and opened his eyes at the black sky. “Make him leave me alone. I’ll be good for Uncle Leo and Aunt Velma. I’ll do good in school. I promise. I’ll make you proud.”
He realized he was talking to his mother. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to picture her. The backs of her fingers brushing his cheek. Her breath, warm with whiskey. The way her black hair fell across her forehead and curled around her ear. The beaded necklace hanging down from her long neck as she hovered over his pillow. Her smile . . .
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” he wept. “I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry I did everything wrong. Please forgive me. Please.” He shouted at the sky for all he was worth. “God, I’m sorry!”
The rain kept falling.
CHAPTER 47
Who discovered the body?