Alabama Moon (24 page)

“It's in my old shelter,” I lied.

Sanders was silent for a moment. “How'd it get all the way back there?”

“I got a ride with somebody.”

“When was the last time you were there?”

“I know someone tore it up, if that's what you wanna find out.”

“Yeah, I got those surveyors to take me out there to your rabbit hole. I didn't see no pistol, either. Just a bunch of junk.”

“I had the pistol with me. Then I left it there.”

“For that sickly kid's sake, you better hope you ain't lyin'.”

 

Sanders turned off the highway at Mr. Wellington's road, drove into the forest, and stopped. He got out and went around to the back of the car, and I heard him open and close the trunk. When he opened my door, he held a dog collar on a chain. He grabbed my ear, and I gritted my teeth as he pulled me across the seat.

“Just like a dog, boy,” he mumbled as he fastened the collar around my neck. “That too tight?”

I didn't answer. He pulled the collar a notch tighter and pinched my skin in the buckle. “I'll hang you three feet off the ground with this thing if you try somethin' funny.”

Sanders removed my ankle cuffs and jerked me to my feet. He draped a canteen of water around my neck then shoved me forward. “Get on,” he said.

We followed a trail of new orange flagging tape, tied to trees about every twenty yards. I walked slowly in front, my mind imagining my escape and building traps and weapons. I went through all the tools at the shelter and tried to remember where I had last seen them. I listened to Sanders behind me and gauged his energy by the sound of his footsteps and his breathing. He was tired after we climbed the first hill, but he got his energy back when we started through the flat pine forest. Once we came to Shomo Creek, he rested against a tree for a few minutes. When he jerked my leash, I knew it was time to move on again.

After we had traveled about a mile, Sanders yanked the leash so hard that I coughed against it. A sharp pain shot up into my head, and I gritted my teeth again. “Gimme some water,” he said.

Usually, the forest worked with me. The sounds of the animals and the light patterns and the breezes carrying smell told me what it knew. That day, though, it seemed the forest had forgotten about me. It did nothing to help me. The animal sounds were distant and muffled. The sunlight lay in large, still blocks. There was no breeze. All that lay before me were endless hills of pine and swampy cane bottoms. As I realized this, my head grew dizzy and my thoughts wouldn't get straight. I couldn't remember what I had decided to do about Sanders. All I put together from my memory of the old shelter was a ruin of strewn logs and scattered cooking utensils . . . Suddenly, I felt that Sanders was going to kill me and leave me to rot. I thought of Kit. I thought of what Sanders would do to him after I was dead. I thought of dying and remembered what Pap said about not feeling pain when you died. I thought of Kit again. I thought of Hal. I had not said goodbye to either one of them. My only friends.

I rushed against the leash and felt it jerk me backwards until I lay flat in the leaves. Sanders laughed over me. He said something I couldn't make out, and I was lifted up by the collar. Even though I coughed and gagged, it didn't hurt. He draped the canteen over me again and I began to walk.

I trudged on through more hills and valleys, stopping for Sanders to rest every time the leash was jerked. Eventually, sunlight fell over me, and I was standing in the clearing with
the ruined shelter before me. I had no plan. I couldn't even think of what to tell Sanders. I turned around slowly to face him. He was putting Copenhagen into his lip and breathing hard. He packed the tobacco with his tongue while his mouth hung open and gasped for air. Then he flicked the excess from his fingers and looked at me. “Gimme that water again.”

I pulled the canteen off my neck and held it out to him. He snatched it, swirled off the top, and took a long drink. When he let it down, he said, “Ahhh . . . Bet you'd like some of this, wouldn't you?”

I didn't answer. My throat was dry, but bigger problems worried me.

He dropped the canteen to the ground and wiped his hand across his forehead. “Well, let's see it,” he said.

“I don't have it.”

“You don't have what?”

I shook my head slowly. “I don't have it.”

“You don't have what?” he yelled.

I felt my body sag like it was waiting to fall to the ground with whatever Sanders was about to bring down on me. Suddenly, I heard a voice.

“What's going on here?”

Mr. Wellington had come up the trail behind us.

Sanders immediately loosened his grip on the chain and spun around to face the lawyer. “You just mind your own business and go back to your fancy lodge.”

“What are you doing to that child?”

“Police business. We'll be done shortly.”

Mr. Wellington looked at me and then back at Sanders. “What kind of police business requires a dog leash?”

Sanders's face was turning red. “Mister, I suggest you take your lawyerin' back down that trail before I write you up for obstructin' justice.”

Mr. Wellington stared at Sanders. “Obstructing justice, you say?”

“That's right.”

Mr. Wellington studied the ground and shook his head. He looked up slowly and his face became calm. “Constable, do you have any idea who you're talking to?”

Sanders's hands began to twitch with anger. He dropped the leash and took a step towards the lawyer. “You wanna play that game, old man? You wanna play who's who in Sumter County? That what you want?”

The chain was on the ground a few seconds before my senses came rushing back to me. I shut out the rest of their conversation and focused on the limp chain lying in the leaves. With a quick yank, I had it flying through the air and gathered at my stomach. Clutching it about my chest with my hands still in handcuffs, I sprinted for the edge of the clearing. I heard yelling and footfalls behind me as I sprang into the forest.

I ran until it seemed that everything around me was quiet. It might have been two hundred yards or it might have been a mile. I didn't know where I was anymore. When I lay down and let the chain fall back into the leaves, I didn't feel tired. All I heard was my breathing and my heart beating. The treetops overhead were still and the sky was overcast. The
forest was endless in all directions. It seemed to stretch out forever with no people. It seemed full of animals that turned their heads away from me and spoke about me in whispers. All I thought about was the fact that I was still alive, and it no longer seemed to matter. Everybody I cared about was in trouble because of me.

 

The clouds slid over my upturned eyes the rest of the afternoon. Just before sunset, the sky cleared and buzzards circled me.

“You might just want me this time,” I said.

As the forest grayed, a coon waddled up to the leash chain and pawed it. When I stood, it scampered away in surprise. I took off the leash and felt my neck where there was a ring of swollen skin. Looking at my wrists, I saw where the handcuffs had worn me raw enough to bleed in places. I rolled over a nearby log and gathered some slugs. By rubbing their slime on my wrists, I made them slippery enough to pull out of the handcuffs.

Using the stars, I got my bearings and set out through the forest. In forty-five minutes I was staring at the windows of Mr. Wellington's lodge. I watched until I saw him get up from a chair and walk into the kitchen. He came back shortly with a drink and sat down. I stepped from the forest and approached his door.

He opened the door before I could knock and stared down at me like he'd been expecting me a long time before. “What do you plan on doing now?” he asked me.

“I'm ready for the law to come get me and take me back to jail.”

“The last I saw of the law, he was chasing you through the forest.”

I stared at Mr. Wellington blankly.

“Come on,” he said, motioning for me to step inside.

Mr. Wellington pointed for me to sit on the sofa, and he sat across from me in the chair. The clock ticked over his fireplace and moths thumped against the window screens. “I'll take you in the morning,” he said.

I nodded and looked down at my knees.

“That constable's got problems. I've encountered men like him before. You don't need to be around him.”

“He won't let me alone.”

Mr. Wellington picked up the drink he'd left on the table and took a sip. He set it back down, and I felt him studying me. “Did you do all the things he said you did?”

“I didn't do the part about eatin' the dogs and shootin' at him.”

“Why would he make up things like that?”

“I whipped up on him a couple of times. Maybe that's why.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means I licked him.”

Mr. Wellington scratched his chin. “You licked him, huh?”

“He wouldn't let me alone.”

“But you didn't shoot at him or eat his dogs?”

“Nossir.”

“Where are the dogs?”

“At my friend's house. He lives near a place called Union at a clay pit.”

“Is this the other boy who escaped with you?”

“Yessir.”

“How about the gun?”

“Which one?”

“Whichever one he thinks you shot at him with?”

“I left it in the forest.”

“Out there where he had you today?”

“No. That's where I told him it was. I lied.”

Mr. Wellington sat forward in his chair. “He wanted you to get it for him?”

I nodded.

“Why would he want it so bad?”

“ 'Cause it's his, I guess. I wish he'd give me back the gun he took from me.”

Mr. Wellington sat back and chuckled to himself. “First of all, kid, they can't put you in jail, at least not for long. You're too young. I don't know what Sanders has planned for you, but he's been getting the general public riled up about you for some time now.”

“I've got a feelin' I know what he's got planned for me.”

“Well, I've been a lawyer long enough to know that his legal options are limited. However, this is not your typical situation. His father happens to be the judge. That can complicate things. This Sanders fellow is a bully and a bigot. He's got a chip on his shoulder that's probably been there since he was a child. He's unintelligent, and he's mean, and he's in a position of power. That's a bad combination to be facing.”

I didn't reply.

“Not to mention that you seem to have caused irreparable damage to his pride.”

“What's that mean?”

“It means you're going to need some help.”

“I don't need help from anybody. He can't do anything to me that I care about. He's gonna go after Kit if he doesn't get his hands on me.”

Mr. Wellington sighed and stood up. He walked into the kitchen, and I heard him turn on the faucet. When he returned he held out a glass of water to me. I took it and he sat back down in his chair. “You know why I came after you today?”

“Nossir.”

“I feel responsible for a lot of what's gone on with you. I'm not going to stand for that constable and his ways, especially on my property. I never thought it would turn out like this.”

“How'd you know I was out there?”

“The chime sounded that lets me know somebody's coming up my road. When no one showed, I drove out and found Sanders's car. I figured he was up to no good when I saw your footprints with his.”

I was quiet for a minute. Finally I said, “You lied to me. Every grown person I know has lied to me except Mr. Mitchell and Obregon and Mr. Carter.”

“You're right. Even though it wasn't a technical lie, I lied to you all the same. I'm sorry about that.”

“I was lonely. I'd have gone away if you'd wanted.”

“I know. The first thing that came to my mind wasn't the right choice. I could have talked to you, and I could have been your friend.”

“Yessir.”

“I've got too much money. I thought I could buy my way above the general human condition, but when you get old and retire and live alone, you realize you're not any different. Sometimes you're worse off.”

“I don't know about any of that.”

Mr. Wellington nodded to himself. “That's all right . . . You know, I've been following your story on the television and in the papers. I've defended enough criminals to know a little about character. I had my doubts all along that you were all they said you were. I'll give them ‘feisty' and ‘hard to hold,' but not the other things Davy Sanders is putting on you.”

“I already told you he lied.”

“I'm going to help you, Moon, and it's not just for your sake, but for my own as well. You might just go along with me, because I don't see that you've got anything to lose.”

“I don't care what you do,” I said.

“Then why don't you go into the bathroom and clean up while I fix you a sandwich. Then you can get some sleep in the guest bedroom. We've got a big day ahead of us.”

 

Mr. Wellington came into my bedroom just after daylight, dressed in his robe. I had been awake since the birds sounded almost an hour before, enjoying the large, comfortable bed in one of his T-shirts. He had washed my clothes for me and set them at the foot of the bed.

“Get dressed,” he said. “We've got to get an early start.”

He walked out, and I heard him in the kitchen pouring a cup of coffee. I put on the clean clothes and went into the living room to wait. Mr. Wellington came in with his coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He held the paper out to me and nodded towards the pictures in it. They were pictures of the place along the road where I'd left Kit when he was sick. “This where we need to go to get that gun?”