Trouble's Always Watching Volume 1: Volume 1 (The Trouble Series)

by Courtney Smith

  “I have a family with two children and a lovely wife who would miss me, and that is exactly what would have happened if he had not intervened.” He turned in Trouble’s direction and continued, “I cannot thank you enough, young man. I do not know where you got that incredible strength from, but I am grateful for it. I owe you my gratitude.” He nodded his head in the young juvenile’s direction.

  Trouble smiled and humbly returned the nod. The red-haired man with sandy skin sprung to his feet.

  “I am not saying that the boy is not trustworthy, but we still do not know who he is or where he comes from.”

  “That is enough, Hutchins! He is a friend, and he comes from the persona of good will because he saved several lives today and prevented an elephant from being shot, and that is the end of it!” finalized Mr. Scottsdale with a flushed face as he slammed his raised fist into the table. He turned to Trouble who stared at Hutchins as though entranced.

  “Do not mind him; he does not make any of the major decisions around here.” The staff’s hands mildly shook their silverware, chewed slowly, and exchanged quick, stiff glances at one another before leaving the table.

  Trouble placed his blanket upon the nearly invisible grass on the dark field with cool breezes flowing through the area. The young man glanced briefly at the eerie outlines of the tents, stakes, and vehicles bathed in moonlight. The adolescent reclined upon the blanket and stared at the starry sky. His eyes were nearly closed before a small movement garnered his attention. The vigilant teenager saw a red-haired man walking quietly and gently in his direction. I know this fool is not trying to sneak up on someone with eyes in the back of their head.

  “How may I help you, Mr. Hutchins?” asked Trouble in a hostile tone. Mr. Hutchins jumped backward upon realizing he was seen.

  “Wow, you certainly are vigilant.”

  “You did not come out here to tell me that. Now, what do you want?” replied the vagrant with clenched teeth and furrowed brows.

  “Everyone has really been on edge, lately. We are worried the show will not be as successful in this region as it is in other regions because rural areas tend to have little or no people that can afford to look at it. It places a tremendous, financial burden upon the crew and everyone when no money is made to keep the workers happy, feed the animals (especially the voracious ones such as the lions and tigers), and maintain enough for supplies and transportation. How much money do you think it costs to transport twenty elephants, fifteen lions, ten tigers, nine seals, and other animals?” asked the man.

  “I don’t know: I always thought I could make extra room for them in my pockets since I have a dire need to carry them: You still haven't answered my question. What do you want?” snapped Trouble.

  Mr. Hutchins chuckled, “Well, I just want you to understand that I am not trying to harass you; I just want to make sure you understand why having an extra mouth to feed that is not contributing to anything is burdensome.”

  “First of all, I did not ask to come: Your boss invited me. Secondly, I am not required to explain anything to you: Mr. Scottsdale made himself very clear when he said you did not ‘make any major decisions.’ Finally, I would not have minded telling you anything except you were questioning me as though I had no business being here! That may have been true to a certain extent, but that is still your boss’s decision, not yours,” affirmed Trouble.

  “You are absolutely right. I am not the one making the decisions. I would like to apologize for my behavior, earlier. I want to give you a drink as peace offering,” presented Hutchins as he pulled a small bottle of water out of his pocket.

  “I do not accept drinks from strangers,” refused

  Trouble.

  “But, it is alright for several strangers to feed you large portions of food?” asked Hutchins with one raised eyebrow. The skeptical recipient acknowledged the man’s point and accepted the drink without opening it. Trouble glanced upward to see green irises directed upon him with the focus of a laser. Something is wrong with this man! I wonder if God would be upset if I snatched his eyes out of his sockets and fed them to an alligator.

  "Thank you," said Trouble flatly as he grasped the bottle, rose from the ground, and walked away.

  Darkness flooded the waking teenager's eyes as they strained until a couple of lit tents eased them, slightly. Trouble jumped up from his spot, rolled up his blanket, grasped the folded cover with several, scattered glances before it disappeared, altogether. He made slow, light, and deliberate steps through the dim area surrounding the tents as he searched for the crew. The inquisitive worker finally heard Mr. Scottsdale’s voice giving assignments to different members of the staff. He followed the voice through an opening.

  Trouble quietly entered behind dispersed bodies, but heads still turned away from Mr. Scottsdale to identify who was behind them. They immediately redirected their attention to the English man to get their assignments. The man pointed toward Trouble as he spoke.

  “I have a special assignment for you,” said Mr. Scottsdale with his finger pointed in the boy's direction.

  Echoes filled the tent with dry bristles scratching the floor throughout the enclosure. He occasionally glanced outside at the unusually quiet field. Then, he redirected his attention to the pacing, caged tigers with their coats yielding crimson hues from sunlight shining through the tent's thin, red awning. This is not what I had in mind when he said I would be working with the animals. I am not even worried about being attacked. The smell is already killing me! Trouble kept pushing the broom until a beryl eye glanced up at him.

  A tiger with nearly exposed ribs, thin legs, and matted fur surrounded by flies, occasionally glanced at him before putting its head back down. The teenager felt drawn to the silent beast's melancholy despite not communicating with it. Trouble began pushing his broom until he felt flashes of heat race throughout his back. Someone is here!

  “Don’t mind that lazy creature. Sometimes, I wonder if it is a real tiger. You can pretty much do anything to it you want without fear or consequence,” volunteered an unpleasantly familiar, arrogant voice. The teenager slowly turned around to see Hutchins eyes pressing into him.

  “Say that when you step inside of his cage!” challenged the adolescent. The redheaded man smiled smugly as he pulled the door’s handle, strutted confidently toward the animal, and pressed his foot against its face. The tiger moaned, lightly. Trouble dropped the broom and gasped with quivering lips. What just happened?!! That man should have been ground beef!!

  “Don’t be amazed by the animal’s reaction. His spirit is broken, and he is ready to pass. We had some veterinarians come and examine him. There does not seem to be anything wrong with him with the exception of starving himself. Something traumatic happened to him, but no one knows what that is.”

  “I better get back to work,” asserted Trouble with squinted eyes and a scowl. He turned his back to the man and continued pushing the broom with vigor. Trouble felt Mr. Hutchins’ eyes upon his back before turning around to see the man was gone. He glanced sympathetically at the animal and resumed his work.

  The calm darkness of the evening seeped into the tent as peace saturated the room. The crew bent a few benches with their combined weight upon the seats and settled around the table as they had done the previous night to discuss plans and operations. The clamor of silverware striking plates filled the room while steaming vessels shifted from hand to hand around the table. Mr. Scottsdale spoke with a piece of roasted turkey dangling out of the side of his mouth.

  “Everything went well today, but we are still in a critical period. So, there can be no errors. Anyway, I heard that our newest employee has done a really good job with the cages, today.” Everyone turned toward the black teenager and applauded.

  “I’m accustomed to hard work. That was typical for me where I come from,” expressed the guest.

  “Wherever that is,” interjected Mr. Hutchins before Mr. Scottsdale gave him a chastising glance.

  “Anyway, I can e
asily do more if you would like for me to,” volunteered Trouble.

  “Now, there is something you don’t see, everyday: A youth who is willing to work,” laughed Mr. Scottsdale, “I don’t think anyone would disagree you are earning your keep, except maybe Hutchins.”

  “I never said that the boy isn’t worthy of working here; I just said that we do not know who he is or where he comes from,” clarified Hutchins.

  “People call me Trouble, but my birth name is invalid because I can no longer use it. I come from Baton Rouge, Louisiana. My father was a sharecropper before he and my mother were killed by a mob. Is that enough or would you like a blood and urine sample?” sneered Trouble. People held their mouths before laughter exploded uncontrollably throughout the table, and Mr. Scottsdale nearly fell out of his chair and held his sides. Mr. Hutchins just grinned, removed his hat, and covered his face with it.

  “Well, Trouble, I cannot speak for anyone else, especially Mr. Hutchins, but I do not care where you came from because you saved my life and helped us out, tremendously. I am glad that you are here. My name is Kyle Rogers,” conveyed the grateful man whom the teenager rescued earlier from a stampeding elephant. He nodded respectfully at the appreciative gentleman before he returned his glance toward Mr. Scottsdale.

  “I really appreciate you giving me a chance to earn my keep,” expressed the grateful vagrant to Mr. Scottsdale. The man smiled as he gave Trouble a gentle tap on the back. The glistening teeth of smiles and laughter shimmered throughout the table for the rest of the evening.

  Trouble smiled as he glanced at the moon upon his blanket. His eyes followed the moonlit outlines of the surrounding tents with a deep breath. I have never had this much peace since my parents died. His eyelids drooped slowly and uncontrollably before his peripheral vision noticed someone who shattered the serene mood saturating him. Really?!!! I guess nothing lasts, forever! What does this fool want!! The disappointed teenager abruptly rose from his peaceful position to acknowledge the unwanted visitor.

  “May I talk to you for a minute, son?”

  “Why not? You usually do, anyway!”

  “I just want to say that we have gotten off on the wrong foot, and I am really a nice person. I do not want us to be enemies. I just did not like the fact that he brought you into the crew without going through the same processes everyone else had to go through. Anyway, I would like to declare a truce. This is my peace offering,” explained Mr. Hutchins as he pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to the juvenile.

  Trouble took the bottle out of the man’s hand and held it. Mr. Hutchins opened another bottle and drank from it. The cautious adolescent carefully opened the bottle and drunk upon seeing Mr. Hutchins opening his bottle. The man with red hair leaned over toward Trouble and lifted his bottle in the air.

  “Here is to new beginnings.” The adolescent raised his bottle to meet Mr. Hutchins and continued to drink.

  “Well, I’m going to retire for the night. Anyway, you have a good evening.”

  “Good night, son...”

  I was not this tired before! How come I am so... Trouble collapsed upon spreading his blanket upon the field beneath the stars.

  The exhausted teenager felt something hard as he turned his head. Why is this grass so hard, and it feels dead. This smells like something I cleaned out of the tigers’ cages! The cautious guest opened his eyes to see hard, yellow strands of hay instead of soft, green blades of grass, and he noticed the moonlight seemed even dimmer than it had upon sleeping. He did not remember going to sleep on dead grass. The stunned juvenile quickly noticed the environment currently surrounding him was different from where he went to sleep.

  He looked around him, but he saw something much more disturbing than his different surroundings. The adolescent saw a tiger staring at him, and there was nothing separating it from him. The teenager stood still and remained very calm. How did I get in here, and how can I prevent this tiger from trying to eat me?

  “Don’t make me vomit! Food is usually supposed to smell good! When is the last time you had a bath?” The juvenile scrambled to the back of the cage in utter surprise with his hands against the bars as if easing along walls to hide or avoid something. Trouble looked around to see if there were any people hiding in the area.

  “No, it is just the two of us.”

  “You mean you are actually speaking to me?”

  “No, you’re just crazy! Yes, the other living thing you see before you in the same cage is communicating with you, telepathically!”

  Trouble remembered the provision the angel with the four different heads mentioned, but the angel never mentioned the animals would be able to communicate with him, especially telepathically.

  “I guess I should be grateful to you for not eating me,” admitted Trouble.

  “Why? I already told you that you stink. Besides, I am not trying to eat, anyway.”

  “How come?”

  “Why asks why? Do you really want to know my reason for not ripping the flesh from your bones, or would you rather just be grateful? I doubt very seriously you would understand. I really wouldn’t expect an extremely young boy to know the agony of pain and loss.”

  “Try me! You might be surprised!” challenged the teenager. His caution immediately left with the animal’s presumption. He lowered himself to the ground, crossed his legs, and stared in the feline’s direction through the dim light.

  “What happened to you?” inquired the tiger.

  “My parents were killed by a group of men because they were not the same type of people as the killers,” explained Trouble.

  “I am sorry to hear that. You just might have an idea of the pain I am experiencing. I was a cub nursing from my mother years ago off of the coast of a territory you humans refer to as India in the Sundarbans. It was typical for my mother to leave me alone with the rest of the litter to hunt for herself. Then, she would come back and continue to nurse us. Anyway, one day, she left to hunt. Two men with sandy skin and turbans shot her before she was several feet away from us.

  The men watched her writhe in pain and struggle with her breathing as though they were watching a movie before they picked up her lifeless body and dragged her away with a dark, red trail forming behind her. They were hunters looking for different skins of tigers to sell to merchants. The men saw the litter I was a part of and decided to kill some of us as well. I saw a few of my brothers and sisters being slain while a few of us managed to run to some bushes to avoid the men. They were searching for the rest of us, but there were so many plants for us to hide under; they got frustrated and left.

  We managed to find another tigress who was a mother. She had mercy on us and raised us as her own. I eventually became an adult and had a litter of my own. I thought my misery was over until another group of hunters came to hunt more tigers. It was typical for us to avoid hunters nearly daily and anticipate the most likely places they would look for us. However, they actually caught us by surprise, once. A group of other tigers and I attempted to drive the cubs to safety while some were going to take the men by surprise.

  We were the ones surprised because they had a large party of hunters with more rifles behind the first group, and we were completely overwhelmed with bullets. I immediately rushed to the cubs and their mother to find her blood-spattered body with the cubs being captured by the men. I knew I was not a match for the company with guns, but I did not care. I leapt with full rage and managed to kill one of the hunters before another shot me in the head. I thought I was dead before I woke up with something white and hard around the area where I was shot.”

  “Why were you spared if you do not mind my asking, and what was around your head?” queried the polite, young man.

  “Someone managed to treat the wound and put a cast around my head, saving my life. It turned out someone was interested in a wild, male tiger for a show they were having. He was with the hunting expedition who was responsible for my cubs’ capture and separation from each other and me. I was immediate
ly shipped to the United States to perform for many people. I did not really want to become some human pet or freak show.

  I fought men carrying whips and chairs in front of large audiences until I realized what they wanted: a show. I stopped reacting; they started losing money because people did not want to see an inactive tiger. They were supposed to be ‘taming’ me, but the show was kind of dull when I was acting as though I were already tame. Some of the men finally decided to put me to death. I was not good as a wild tiger, a trained tiger, or a show tiger. It was not because I was incapable of doing those things; I just refused to entertain a race of beings responsible for the destruction of my family and cubs. I hated them for a long time.

  I thought about escape, but what kind of life would I have in the middle of a wilderness I did not belong in? What kind of life would I have in the middle of a city where all the animals resembling me were restricted to an area where people are constantly staring at them? What kind of life could I have in the city, assuming I was not killed by police officers, or I was not placed in an environment with other tigers where the space is restricted or limited?

  I was sick of this place. Some of the humans believe they have broken me, but I am really just ready for someone to pull the trigger or swing the ax. Some will still come to try to ‘whip me into shape,’ but I never yield to their will even after extensive beatings and whippings.”

  “I am truly sorry about all the things that happened to you and still happen to you. I would think anyone would not want to antagonize any creature capable of disemboweling them with one swing of a paw. That shows how much I know,” confessed Trouble.

  “I would not worry about that. It’s not like you knew me your whole life or about the standards regarding my care. Some of these people think I am brain dead. However, they would probably force me to live for the challenge of making me obey them if they found out how much I really knew. Some of them really think they are God. So, I am exactly where I want to be,” declared the depressed tiger. “By the way, I really don’t think the man with the red hair likes you too much.”