Chips of Red Paint

by K. Martin Beckner

  “Okay, tell me where we’re going.”

  “Mr. Miller is carrying him down the hill. They should have made it down by now.”

  “Are you talking about that old hermit, Buford Miller.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s the one.”

  “I hope he hasn’t done you boys any harm. He didn’t kidnap y’all, or anything like that, did he?”

  “No, he wouldn’t do anything like that. He’s the nicest old man you’ve ever met. He didn’t kidnap us. He just let us stay with him for the last few days.”

  “We’ll let the authorities decide whether it’s kidnapping or not. If it was up to me, he’d be locked up and the key thrown in a lake.”

  “He’s nice. He never kidnapped us,” I said, wanting desperately for him to believe me.

  “Okay, right now the priority is getting Charlie medical attention.”

  The police car rattled and shook us about as it struggled up the neglected road.

  “I hope the ambulance can make it,” said Deputy Houchens. “This road’s pretty rough, not to mention steep.”

  I looked back at the ambulance. It was a good distance behind. Its red lights were still flashing, but the siren was off. I had been excited to see those red lights speed down the road so many times before, never realizing that somewhere someone needed help, that someone’s life depended on those red lights reaching them in time.

  As the police car rounded a curve, I returned my gaze to the front of the vehicle and saw a terrible sight: Charlie was lying on the ground, and Mr. Miller was facedown beside him. Mr. Miller’s right arm was underneath Charlie, as though he had collapsed before he had a chance to sit him down. The deputy stopped the police car in front of them, and I got out of the car and ran to the two bodies.

  “Wake up, Charlie! Wake up, Mr. Miller!” I said, crying and shaking them. “What’s wrong, Mr. Miller? Why don’t you wake up?” I looked up at the police officer and said, “Why won’t Mr. Miller wake up? He wasn’t bitten by a snake. Is Charlie going to be all right? Is he still alive? Please Charlie, wake up.” I was starting to cry uncontrollably.

  The ambulance rolled up behind us. The ambulance drivers carried a stretcher to the scene. One driver looked barely twenty and had dark hair that nearly reached his shoulders, the other looked to be at least in his fifties and was nearly bald.

  “His leg looks awful bad, but the boy’s still alive,” said the older driver, giving Charlie a shot in the arm. “That shot will keep him from going into shock, if he ain’t already, until the doctor can get some anti-venom in him. I’ll work on getting this tourniquet off his leg on the way to the hospital. I guess the old man thought he was doing him a favor by cutting the circulation off his leg. I wish people had better sense.”

  The younger driver quickly assessed Mr. Miller, attempting to take his vital signs and said, “We need to get the boy to the hospital. They’ll come back for the old man later. He’s already cold. We might as well do CPR on that rotten log over there. Guess he died from a heart attack while trying to carry the kid down the hill.”

  “No!” I screamed. “You’ve got to try and save him. He wasn’t bitten. The snake never bit him. Why would Mr. Miller be dead? He’s probably not dead because the snake never bit him. Please try to save him. He probably just got tired from carrying Charlie and passed out. The snake never bit him.”

  “Please do something with this kid,” the older ambulance driver said to the deputy, as he helped the younger driver load Charlie onto the stretcher. The two nearly ran with Charlie to the ambulance and place him inside. The older driver got in the back with Charlie, and the younger driver took the wheel. The ambulance struggled to turn around on the narrow road before it headed with its flashing lights back down the hill.

  I stood there and cried, almost screaming, helplessly. I reached down and tried again to wake up Mr. Miller. But at this point I knew that he was dead. His skin was a pale blue. “What happened?” I asked. “Mr. Miller shouldn’t be dead. He wasn’t bit by the snake.”

  “He probably had a heart attack,” said the Deputy. He was getting pretty old, you know. It looks like he died trying to carry Charlie down the hill. I wish I had a blanket to put over him.”

  “Is Charlie going to be okay?”

  “I think Charlie will be alright. It’s going to be a while before he’s back to his old self, but I think he’ll be alright.”

  I put my arms around the deputy’s waist, because he was the only one around to cling to, and cried.

  “Now listen, I need to get you back to your mother. She’s been worried sick about you.”

  “We can’t leave Mr. Miller here alone,” I said.

  “Oh, he wouldn’t mind it. He liked being alone. He was a hermit.”

  “No, he used to like being alone but not anymore. Nobody really likes being alone.”

  “He won’t be alone for long. Now get in the car, and let’s get you home.” He radioed for someone to come and pick up the body. “See,” he said, “they’re on the way right now.”

  I sat in silence as the police car slowly made its way down the hill. I was too physically and mentally exhausted at this point to cry. I was so tired, in fact, I dozed off to sleep.

  “Wake up,” I heard the deputy say when we had made it back to the store. “There’s some people here to see you.”

  I yawned myself awake, opened the car door, and stepped out onto the hot pavement. My mother yelled my name when she saw me. She grabbed me and hugged me tight. My dad hugged us both. They were crying.

  Then I heard a voiced behind them say, “Child, where in this world have you been? You nearly scared the death out of us.” I couldn’t see who was talking, but I knew the voice well. It was Miss Hazel’s voice. I was confused because I knew it couldn’t be her. Hazel was dead. I wondered if I was hearing a ghost. “If your parent’s ever let go of you, come over here and give me a hug.”

  “Miss Hazel!” I yelled and tore away from my parents. It was Hazel. Somehow she was alive. I ran to her and hugged her. “I thought you had died. I’m so glad to see you.”

  “I’m too ornery to die, I guess. Whatever in the world made you think I’d died, anyway?”

  “I heard Mamma talking on the phone the other day. I thought she said you died from eating them cookies I brought you.”

  She laughed out loud and said, “I was just sick. My blood pressure dropped real low, and I passed out. They had to take me to the hospital. Thankfully, your daddy came over to put the air conditioner in and found me.”

  “I thought you’d died, and it was my fault. I’m so glad to see you.”

  “If that don’t beat everything I’ve ever heard,” she said and hugged me again.

  “Hey, Charlie, or Brian, where have you been all this time?” asked a reporter, holding a microphone towards me. I hadn’t noticed until now, but there were three cameras pointed at me.

  I didn’t know how to answer the question. Thankfully, my dad stepped in. “We’ll be taking questions later,” he said. “Right now we’re going to take Brian to the hospital and make sure he’s okay. It’s been a long week, and we don’t know ourselves what happened yet.”

  After hugging my grandmother and being welcomed back by other family members and friends, I climbed onto the back seat of my parents’ car, insisting that Hazel ride with us. Bruno hopped in the car and sat on my lap. I fell asleep on the way to the hospital, waking up when my dad carried me from the car to the emergency room. “You’re almost getting too heavy for me to carry,” I heard him say before I drifted off to sleep again.

  Chapter 18

  I woke up some time later with a clear tube attached to my arm. I looked around the room and saw my mother sitting in a chair thumbing through a magazine. “What’s going on?” I asked her. “What’s this tube in my arm for?”

  “The doctor said you’re dehydrated, so they’re giving you some IV fluids. That bag hanging up there is running saltwater in your veins.”

  “What’
s dehydrated mean? Is it something serious?”

  “It just means you haven’t had enough to drink. You got too hot today, you know. You’ll be alright once you cool down and get some fluids”

  “Where’s Charlie?” I asked, suddenly terrified. In all the excitement and my fatigue, I had nearly forgotten about Charlie’s predicament.

  “Charlie’s up on the intensive care unit. They’re supposed to be transferring him to Baptist Hospital in Nashville sometime today. Your dad’s up there with them now. We’ve been taking turns going up there.”

  “Is he going to be okay? I’ve got to go see him.” I climbed out of bed and felt a draft and realized that I had nothing on but a flimsy gown that didn’t even have a back to it. “What’s going on here? Where’s my clothes?”

  “Now get back in bed,” said my mother. “You’re sick yourself right now. You can go see Charlie when you get feeling better.”

  “I’m feeling better right now.” I started to walk towards the door but stopped suddenly when the IV tubing pulled my arm. “How am I supposed to get around with this tube stuck to my arm?”

  “Get back in that bed right now. You’re not going anywhere until the Doctor says it’s okay. Besides, they’d have you arrested for streaking if you went out there dressed like that.”

  “But I’ve got to see Charlie. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

  “We’ll go to Nashville and see him tomorrow, if you’re out of the hospital by then.”

  I reluctantly got back in bed and covered up. A short time later my dad came back, and the room filled up with family and friends.

  “Why did you run away?” asked my mother. “I just want to know why.”

  “I was upset and figured everybody would be mad at me,” I said, embarrassed.

  “Why on earth would everyone be mad at you?”

  “Can’t I tell you later?”

  “It looks like you’re feeling better. I think now is as good a time as any. I’m dying to know why you ran away.”

  “I just don’t want to talk about it in front of all these people, Mom.”

  My mother fixed that problem by asking everyone except my dad to step out of the room. I explained to my parents everything that had happened, starting from the time I brought Hazel the cookies, then overhearing her telephone conversation the next morning. My mother laughed and explained that I had only heard part of the conversation. She said that if I’d heard the rest of the conversation, I would have known Hazel was only sick, not dead. She also explained that it wouldn’t have been my fault even if she had died from eating the cookies, although I still should have listened to my grandmother. I then told them about meeting up with Charlie and about how we ran away to the mountaintop. I told them about Mr. Miller and about what a nice man he was and about the fun we’d had.

  “That old man didn’t harm the two of you in any way, now did he?” asked my mother with a stern look.

  “Absolutely not,” I said, offended that she had asked such a thing. “He was the nicest person you could ever meet.”

  “I just wanted to make sure,” she said. “There’s a lot of mean people in the world. And even if he did save Charlie, it don’t change the fact that he should have contacted someone about your whereabouts on day one.”

  “I guess we were having such a good time that he didn’t want to spoil it. He was lonely, you know. He really was a nice man, once you got to know him.””

  “Why do you say was?” asked my dad.

  “Didn’t you know?” I asked.

  “Know what?” asked my dad.

  “He died while trying to carry Charlie down the hill, after Charlie got bit by the snake.”

  “Wow,” said my dad. “With all the excitement going on today, I haven’t heard about that. He must not have been all bad.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t know that had happened,” said my mother. “I guess that old Mr. Miller must not have been the worse person in the world. I don’t know what to think of him. I do know it would have saved us mountains of heartache if he’d told somebody you two were up there on the first day he saw you.”

  “He didn’t mean to do anything wrong,” I said. “He really was one of the nicest people you ever could meet.”

  Miss Hazel entered the room, wearing a black dress and hat. “I tell you, it’s dangerous going to that church of mine. People’s dropping dead like flies in a hot car. That poor girl was supposed to get married today, for the third time, I might hesitate to mention, and they buried her in her wedding dress today, the same day she was supposed to get married. If that ain’t the pits, I don’t know what is. That’s the third funeral I’ve been to this month.

  “Now look at you, sitting there in bed getting all the attention.”

  “Hi, Hazel,” I said. “I was wondering where you went.”

  “Now, you know I wouldn’t go too far, not with you sick and in the hospital.”

  “He’s been telling us about a little misunderstanding he had,” said my mother.

  Hazel laughed and said, “Now ain’t that the funniest thing you’ve ever heard: the poor child thinking he’d done away with me.”

  “How’d you know about it?” asked my mother.

  “He told me about it at the store today.”

  “It seems we’re the last people to get all the news today,” said my mother and laughed.

  My dad stepped out of the room and told the rest of the visitors it was okay to come back in. The room was soon full of people again. A nurse came in and said there were too many visitors, that I needed my rest. The room slowly cleared out after that. Finally, there was just me, my parents, my grandmother, and Miss Hazel in the room. My dad left shortly, saying he needed to get up early in the morning to talk to a family about an upcoming auction, and Miss Hazel left when he did. I was amazed to see Charlie and myself on the news that night. Before falling asleep, I ate two cups of orange sherbet that the nurse had brought me after I told her I was dying for a snack. My mother slept in a chair that opened into a bed. She later stated numerous times during various conversations that a bed of nails would have been more comfortable.

  When I woke up the next morning, Brenda, Charlie’s mother, was in the room talking to my mother. She was talking in a soft voice to my mother, probably trying not to awaken me.

  “Right now I’m just glad to have him back,” said Brenda, “but I’m not sure how he’s going to handle the news. This is just terrible. He’s such an active child. I’ve cried tears of joy and tears of sadness all night until I’m blue. But I’ve come to realize that the important thing is he’s still alive. Anything else we can learn to deal with.”

  “I feel so bad for him,” said my mother. “I wish there was something I could do.”

  “Dr. Landrum says the tissue damage is very extensive, and they may not be able to save his leg. That tourniquet on his leg just made matters worse. He said a tourniquet should never be used for a snakebite; a lot of people don’t realize that. His leg is swollen up like a balloon. He says if he had gotten help earlier, it would have easily been saved, only some scarring to deal with. He said the snake must have released an unusually large amount of venom. Also, Charlie must have walked on his leg for quite a ways after the bite, another wrong thing to do.”

  I sat up in bed jarred by this news. A feeling of guilt swept over me for not having gotten help for Charlie sooner. I should have left him and ran for help. Too much time had been wasted letting him walk with me, not to mention that, according to the doctor, he should have stayed off his leg. I wouldn’t have felt any worse if I had personally cut off his leg. I started crying, wishing it were my leg that was possibly going to be amputated. I was certain Charlie would never want to speak to me again.

  “Oh, dear,” said Brenda. “I’m so sorry, Vicky. I shouldn’t have let him overhear that.” She walked over to me and put her arm around me. “It’s okay. Charlie will get through this. The important thing is he’s alive. That’s what really matters.”

>   “He would have heard about it sooner or later,” said my mother.

  “I know, but I would have preferred to have broke the news in a gentler way.”

  “It’s my fault,” I said. “I should have gotten help faster. I should have ran and got help faster. I shouldn’t have let him walk so much on his sore leg.”

  “You did the best you could,” said Brenda, “and I want to thank you for taking care of Charlie like that. He told me you’re his hero for saving his life.”

  I cried even more after hearing those words. I didn’t feel the least bit like a hero.

  “I’ve got to get going now,” said Brenda. “I’ve got to run home and grab a few things. I’m going to ride in the ambulance with Charlie to Nashville.”

  “Why are they taking him to Nashville?” asked my mother.

  “I requested it. My brother Don, the heart surgeon, is setting it up. His office is at Baptist. He knows all the doctors there and is going to make sure Charlie gets the best surgeon and the best rehab afterwards, if his leg does need to be amputated. They’re, of course, going to try and do everything they can to save it.”

  “Can I go see him before he leaves?” I pleaded.

  “It’s okay with me as long as the nurse says it’s all right,” said Brenda. “Just one thing though: Charlie doesn’t know about his leg yet, so whatever you do, don’t mention anything about it. We’re going to break the news to him later. Besides, when he gets to Nashville the doctors there may save his leg, and we won’t have to tell him. There’s no reason to get him upset if we don’t have to. We can always hope. I just want to make sure it’s a sure thing before he’s told anything.”

  “I promise I won’t say a word about it,” I said.

  A man walked in the room as Brenda was leaving. His graying hair, black rimmed glasses, and white lab coat made him look to me like the type of man who went around spreading bad news. I had a different opinion of him when he started talking.

  “Well, hello there, Little Man,” he said, extending his big hand out to me. I shook his hand nervously. He reached in his lab coat pocket and brought out a notepad and a pen and handed it to me. “I hope you don’t mind if I ask for your autograph.”