He saw them before the old woman. His father saw them too. He could hear his father’s shout as he jumped from the car, “Joe! Get them Joe!” His father’s hand was still on the door handle as the full can of beer hurled at his head struck him and brought him to his knees with the blood running through the fingers he clutched to his face. He wanted to run to his father, to protect him, to hide behind him. But he brought his body up from hiding and slammed a rock into the nose of one of the white bodies crashing into the bright lights of the car. He knocked only the last of them down, the other four were in the light. He ran into the light. The rock was high over his head and he ran at them, filling the clearing with a new sound, a cry that wrenched and twisted from his gut and cut up his throat like a spurt of blood, a cry of war, “AYIIIIIIIIIEEEE!” They were waiting for him. Before he could bring the rock smashing down on them the stroke of a boot hooked its leather point right between his legs, driving his balls straight into the bone of his body. The rock slipped from his hand as the pain sucked out of his bowels and burst in a hollow gasp, dropping him to the ground, his blind hands groping over the roar of blood blasting in his groin. He felt a fist in his hair and his face was yanked up. He could see, far and into the distance, he could see the white face right before him. “I’m going to kick your ass Indian!” The shout came again, far and into the distance, the shout that was screamed right into his face, “I’m going to kick your FUCKING ASS!” Through the roar he could hear, he could see, far and into the distance something slipped in his flesh, but he could no longer feel He could see the boots that kicked him walking to his face, “Don’t kick his ass Eddie.” “Why not Dora? Why not kick his ass in? Look what he done to my nose? He damn near busted it to nothin! I’m going to kick his ass off!” The Indian’s head was jerked all the way back so his face stared up into the night. “No Eddie let go of him. We don’t want to hurt Joe. We want him to eat shit.” “You mean watch it Ben!” “That’s right, eat shit,” the boots moved away and the Indian’s head was lowered, he could see the Levis above the boots, the silver bullhead belt buckle and the short Levi jacket that fit tightly over the wide chest, the boy had short hair, trimmed to a flat burr on top, with long greased wings on the sides combed straight back, he was only two years older than the rest, he was seventeen, but his hands had grown so big he could fit one full over a man’s face and twist it with the bulk of his shoulder muscle like an orange. He tipped the beer can to his lips and drank, the excess beer running out his mouth and down his chin. He flung the can into the dust, “Where’s that other beer I brung! You, old lady, old squaw, you took my beer?” The old woman looked up at him from the ground, she had her arms wrapped around her knees like she was hugging a baby, she sidled back and forth, her lips moving, but no sound could be heard, the air just sucked into the hollow of her toothless mouth. “The can’s over here Ben. You threw it at the old Chief when he jumped out of his car screaming like a redass.” “You tell me where it is Rick, I don’t see it. These headlights are too bright.” “Right there Dora, in front of the Chief,” he pointed to the can glistening in the light of the headbeams. “Well yah, that’s it,” Ben Dora stooped and picked it up, holding it out in the light, “Why look at this, the damn things all been bashed in, this Chief must have a head carved of stone.” He nudged his boot tip into the man before him, “That right Chief, you got a stone head? You must, cause that son of yours over there does, he’s the dumbest dumbass bunny in our school, he can’t even spell FART. They told him if he could learn how to spell FART at the end of four years of highschool they’d go ahead and give him his dip-plomma cause that’s all he needs to know for an Indian; whenever he gets a job application it will say, ‘WHAT CAN YOU DO?’ and he just fills in, ‘FART.’ ” He kneeled down in front of the old man, settling one knee in the dust as he pulled the sharp beer opener from his jacket, “Ain’t that right Chief Fart. Ain’t that how you kissied your way through life?” He punched the opener into the can, sending a white spray onto the old man’s bowed head. The old man could not see through the blood in his eyes. “You don’t talk much, do you Chief Fart. None of you talk much,” he swigged his beer and pushed himself up. “Let’s get this party goin! Let’s start the party! We come to party!” He swaggered into the blaring white light of the car that held the girl captive, she was surrounded on everyside by the four waiting white bodies. Her brown eyes caught only on the one with the beer can, she kept her hands locked across her thighs as he came forward into the light, “You know that wasn’t nice of you not to send us invites to your party Sarah Dick. We would have all been glad to come. You don’t have to be so stuck-up with your Indians only parties. We don’t mind rubbing asses with Indians. So we thought we’d have this little party of our own, just the four of us, and of course, you.” “That’s right Ben! It’s just like you said it would be. She’s just standing around in her bra and panties waiting for it!” “Now don’t you get too itchy Carl. You just wait until I’ve held the grand opening of this little brown box,” he came up before the girl and grabbed her long hair, pulling the dark face up to his and pressing his lips down on her. Her knee kicked up like a deer between his legs. He was waiting and slammed the beer can into the side of her head, knocking her to the ground. The laughter shot from his wide chest as he stooped his shoulders and his body swung around like he was in an arena, “Hey you, Carl.” He pointed at the one who had the smaller girl by the neck, “You lay off that one, it’s too small. You’ll bust your cock in that cherry.” “AWWW Ben come on, we came up here to party. She’s just dying for it.” “No! This is the one we want. This is the one we came up for,” he swung back to the girl before him. “It’s her party,” his eyes glared at the girl cowed in the dust, the white cloth of her bra and panties flashed against her brown skin as she leaped up and ran before his hand yanked her flying hair and flung her back in the dust, dropping down on her with one knee pinned in her stomach as he ripped off his leather belt, jerking her arms up over her head, binding the belt around her outstretched wrists and pulling it tight. He leaned his weight down and stamped his lips on her mouth. The sharp animal bone of her teeth clamped into his flesh. He jerked his mouth away and slammed the ball of his fist into the side of her head, a small spot of blood showed in the corner of her mouth as he punched her on the other side of the head, then hooked his hand under her bra and ripped it off, her brown breasts spilling out in the light beneath him. “FUCK HER BEN!” He unbuttoned his pants, pushing them below his knees, the needlepoints of his boots digging into the dirt as he kept the balanced weight of his body pushed into the narrow hips trying to buck him off. He stabbed both knees between her legs, jamming her thighs open, getting his hand in under the panties and up through the elastic. He tore the panties in his fist and stuffed them in the clamp of her mouth. “FUCK HER DORA!” He got one hand pinched around her throat as the other pushed the stiff white bone of his body up between her legs, the needlepoints of his books scratching into the earth as his knees cocked up, pumping him deep between her twisting thighs. The breath broke out of his chest, “Shit, fucking an Indian is like fucking a snake!” “FUCK HER BEN. FUCK HER BRAINS OUT!” He had the full weight of his white body in her. The brown body was pinned to the earth beneath him as the muscle of his white ass pumped up and down in the brilliant light of the headbeams. The heavy breath blasting out of his wide chest blew with a snort from his nostrils, obscuring the whimpering in her throat. He pulled off. She was released. But her brown body kept thrashing as if his weight was still in her, trying to throw off the damp whiteness gleaming between her thighs. The bulk of his shoulders stooped as he stood with the hot breath still snorting from his nostrils, he swung into the full glare of the headlights, “Who wants seconds!” He pulled his pants up and leaned against the bumper of the car and watched as the others threw their full weight into the brown body. He laughed and shouted into the thumping rising dust, clapping his hands together until the last man trotted off.
Rabbit Boss Page 36