Blood in the Woods Read online

  One mid-afternoon a few days after Thanksgiving, Jack and I decided to start up our reign of terror once again. During the fall and winter months, the liveliness of the neighborhood tended to slow down, and the only kids outside playing were Jack and me; it was like everyone except for us had gone into hibernation. The only other kids we saw every now and again were Kyle and Lucy, but they rarely came out of their house anyway.

  Like people say though, it’s always calm before the storm – and the storm was definitely on its way.

  Around three thirty or so one afternoon, I was playing around in Pepaw’s shed, digging around in the toolboxes, when I found some nails in a plastic bag. In an instant, I’d conjured up a plan for what to do with my new and exciting find, and I just knew Jack would love it. I grabbed a handful of the nails and ran from the shed, hoping that Pepaw wouldn’t see me. Once I got in front of my trailer, I glanced up the road toward Jack’s house, and saw that he was already on his bike and heading my way. I took off towards him with a sprint, maneuvering my way across the pine needles that covered my front yard and stopped next to the road. Jack rolled up with his hair looking like an untamed mess, and stopped right next to me.

  “What’s going on?” Jack asked, picking up on the excitement in my face.

  “Check it out man; I got some nails from Pepaw’s shed, and –”

  “And?” Jack interrupted.

  “If you’d let me finish, I’d tell you what I want to do with them.”

  “Let me guess – you want to build a clubhouse.”

  “No, damn it! I want to pop some tires with these babies!” I exclaimed.

  “Now, that’s what I’m talking about!” Jack shouted, as his mood suddenly switching from I don’t care to Let’s do this!

  Jack got off his bike, walked it over to one of the big pine trees in my yard and leaned it up against its smooth trunk. He trotted back over to me with a look of sheer mischief on his face, as I was knelt down counting the nails I’d spread out on the ground.

  “So, how are we going to do this?” Jack asked.

  “You see that hole over there in the road?”

  “No – where?”

  “Right there, dumbass!” I said, pointing my finger across the road.

  Jack followed my finger with his eyes and searched for the landmark. “I don’t see shit, Jody,” he said.

  “Damn it,” I grumbled. I stood to my feet and walked to the road, “this hole right here.”

  I bent down and slammed my index finger into a tiny hole about half an inch deep, certainly no wider than an inch; the circumference probably the same as an eraser on a pencil.

  “We’re putting the nails in that little hole?” Jack was curious.

  “Yes. We’re putting them in there – ’cause look.” I got down on my stomach and lay alongside the road. “You see,” I explained, “this little hole is lined up perfectly with where a car’s tires pass. If we stand the nail up in the hole and maybe stick some dirt around it to keep it steady, it might just go into someone’s tire. And then ­– BOOM! They’re having a bad day.” Grinning, I got up from off the ground and dusted myself off.

  “Ha-ha! Genius, pure genius, I tell you.” Jack clapped his hands together with glee. “How the hell did you spot that tiny hole?”

  “I was out here checking the mail the other day and I just happened to see it. It wasn’t until I got the nails that I remembered it, though.”

  “Awesome. Let’s do it,” Jack insisted.

  We got down on our knees. I held the nail up and Jack stuffed the dirt around its base. Once it stood up by itself, we ran into my front yard, hid behind one of the trees and waited for a vehicle to pass. A few minutes later, we heard our first victim and pure joy shot through our bodies.

  “Can you see who it is? Can you see?” Jack was almost beyond himself with excitement.

  “Hold on,” I said. I poked my head out from behind the tree and caught a glimpse of some multi-colored piece of shit, which I’d never seen before, rattling its way along the road. “It’s some piece of shit jalopy,” I reported back to Jack, “I think it’s on fire, too. Smoke is shooting out the back of it.”

  “Oh – that’s one of Mr. Rhine’s friends,” Jack told me, “my dad went coon hunting with him once.”

  “Well, with a car like that, I hope he can afford a new tire,” I joked, and we laughed like maniacs.

  “Shhh – listen for the pop!” Jack said as he composed himself.

  “Oh my God, I can’t take all this excitement,” I said.

  We waited as the car got right upon us, then – nothing. The pile of junk just kept on going right down Rhine Road, all four tires still inflated. We got up from behind the tree and walked out to the road.

  “I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch,” Jack said, scratching his head. “The damned nail is still standing up.”

  “What? It didn’t stick into that guy’s tire?” I asked in total disappointment.

  “Nope, it’s still here.”

  “Damn it! Well, let’s go hide and wait again. Maybe the next car will hit it.”

  “Okay,” Jack agreed, and we went back behind the tree.

  We waited for a good five minutes for another victim, and once again the nail didn’t penetrate the car’s tire.

  “Maybe we need to put some more dirt around it – you know, to keep it sturdier?” Jack suggested as we stood over that nail, gazing down upon it as if we were about to scold it for not doing its job. We packed the hole with yet more dirt; hell, we even threw some spit in there hoping it would add some support once it dried. After we were done we went back, yet again, to our hiding spot.

  “You ever think about what happened that day at the mall?” Jack asked me.

  The question had come straight out of left field. I wasn’t expecting to hear it from my friend at all, but I knew Jack was serious; his tone of voice said it all.

  “Every now and again, I guess. How about you?”

  “Yeah, every now and again too, I suppose. I have a lot of nightmares about it though, and sometimes I don’t get away from him. I just stand there in that elevator and let him choke me until I die,” Jack told me as he brought his knees up tight to his chest and crossed his arms on top of them. “I don’t know if I’d still be here if it wasn’t for you and Justin.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Jack. There were too many people in that mall to let that asshole kill someone.”

  “Oh yeah, then why didn’t anyone stop him from chasing us, huh?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t know, maybe because it all happened so fast. One minute we were in the toy store, then the next thing you know, shit was going crazy inside the elevator.”

  “Yeah, but someone still should’ve helped us,” Jack said, staring blankly down at the ground.

  “I know, Jack. Look,” I said as I placed a hand on his shoulder, “what’s done is done, man. That yahoo is probably locked up in jail somewhere getting his asshole shaved by Brutus The Butt Shaving Beefcake.”

  Jack started giggling, and by that, I knew we would soon be off the topic, which suited me just fine because quite frankly, I didn’t like talking about it at all, either; it was something I wanted to forget and put behind the both of us.

  “He’s probably in jail, huh?” Jack said.

  “Totally. The cops don’t keep lunatics like that on the streets for long. They have a special little place to put those people.”

  “Hey,” Jack said, springing to his knees, “another car is coming – I hear it!”

  And voila, our serious conversation ended and we were focusing once more upon the nail. It’s funny how a child’s mind works sometimes; I didn’t understand back then, and I still sometimes can’t understand it today. Kids can be talking about the most serious things one minute, and the next they’re back talking about stupid kid stuff. It’s bizarre, but I guess that’s just how it is; I’m learning that now with my own offspring.

  “Here we go baby, here we go!” I said, rubbing m
y hands together like a madman.

  “See who it is!” Jack demanded.

  I leaned over to take a peek at who was approaching, and felt my eyes widen as I looked upon Mr. Shawn’s truck.

  “Aww shit,” I muttered.

  “What?” Jack asked.

  “Oh, fuck...”

  “Oh fuck what?!” Jack spat.

  I brought my head back around and stared directly at Jack’s face. “Dude, we are so screwed – it’s your dad.”

  “My dad?” Jack asked, shockingly, leaning over me, taking a look-see for himself.

  “Holy shit, it is my dad,” Jack gasped, “he must’ve gotten off work early today. He normally doesn’t get home until dark.”

  “Maybe he’ll miss the nail just like everyone else has,” I said, trying to give Jack a little hope.

  “Let’s run out there and stop him,” Jack insisted.

  “Should we?”

  “Yes, damn it! Let’s go.”

  We both clambered to our feet and ran toward the road, our arms waving up and down to try to get Mr. Shawn to stop.

  “Hey, Dad! Stop! Stop!” Jack shouted.

  “Mr. Shawn! Hey! Stop! Wait!”

  We were jumping up and down alongside the road as if a Christmas parade was passing us by, and Mr. Shawn was Saint Nick himself. As he got closer in his Ford Ranger, he caught sight of us jumping up and down like a bunch of faggots at a dildo show, but didn’t show any signs of slowing down or stopping. He just began waving at us with a presidential wave, you know, all nice and proper like the ones you see on TV. He had a huge smile on his face as he passed us, which lasted right up until his front right tire just ran right over the nail.

  A small POP was heard and Jack and I quit our jumping up and down, slowly backing away from the road. And then we watched with our mouths hanging wide open as Mr. Shawn drove all the way home.

  “I can’t believe he didn’t stop,” I said.

  “He is going to be so pissed off,” Jack blurted out. “I’m not owning up to this one! Fuck that, he’ll tear my ass up if he finds out I had anything to do with it.”

  “Well don’t say anything. It’d be suicide if you did.”

  “Don’t worry; I’m taking this one to the grave, that’s for damned sure,” Jack reassured me.

  “So – you want to put another one in the hole?” I asked, hoping that Mr. Shawn hitting the nail hadn’t foiled our plans.

  “Might as well. I’m not going home until it gets dark now. Once Dad realizes that joker’s flat, he’ll be out there changing it and cursing up a storm, and I don’t feel much like helping.”

  “You’re an ass,” I told him.

  Jack jokingly pushed me off the road and walked over to the nails that we’d left on the ground. He picked one up and placed it into the hole. I gathered up some more dirt and was helping Jack get the nail situated, when someone honked a horn off to our right. It wasn’t a loud horn, but it was loud enough to get our attention since we were facing in the opposite direction. We both looked over and saw that it was the mailman. We stood up and I surreptitiously swung my foot around to knock over the nail so he wouldn’t see it.

  “Shit, what the hell does he want?” I asked, aloud.

  The mailman pulled his rinky-dink mail truck over to the right-hand side of the road, put on his four way flashers and turned off the vehicle. He rolled down his window and signaled us over with a wave of his hand. Slowly, we walked across to him, hoping that he hadn’t seen us putting the nails on the road.

  “You boys wouldn’t happen to be putting anything sharp on the roadway, now would you?” the mailman asked us.

  The man’s voice was so deep, it would have intimidated any kid who hadn’t perfected the art of lying into spilling the beans about what they were doing, but thank God Jack and I were seasoned veterans.

  “No sir, we weren’t doing anything like that at all,” Jack spoke up first.

  “I don’t believe you,” The mailman said coldly.

  “Well I don’t care,” I was furious; I was tired of this guy trying to intimidate Jack and I every time he had the chance to. I know what we were doing was wrong, but I was already beginning to develop a problem with authority and decided that this guy just needed to leave us the hell alone. “You’re not my dad, and you’re not my mother either.” I realized just how cocky I must have sounded. “So why don’t you get the heck out of here. It’s none of your business what we do, so why don’t you start up your little piece of shit truck and leave us alone.”

  Jack looked over at me in complete shock. He couldn’t believe I had just spoken to an adult that way, and I was pretty surprised at myself too – I rarely used cuss words when arguing with adults, but there was just something about this guy that sent me over the edge.

  “Let me tell you something, you little foul-mouthed fool,” the mailman said maliciously, “you had better watch how you talk to me, you understand? You and your friend here – that’s right,” he nodded slowly, “I know he’s not your brother.”

  “So what, creep? What’s it matter to you?” I demanded.

  “It matters to me because you’re a pair of conniving little liars on a destructive path that’s going to get you into a whole world of trouble. You have no respect for your elders, and you need to be disciplined! Maybe I should walk up there to your five-star trailer and tell your fat-ass mother what you’re doing out here. Would you like that?” he growled.

  “Fuck you, weirdo,” Jack spat. “Why don’t you get the hell out of here before we call the police and tell them you’re harassing us?”

  “You little bastard! You’re not going to speak to me that way!” the mailman roared, and flung open the truck’s door.

  Jack and I jumped back a little, but still we stood our ground as this monster of a man stepped out of his vehicle and cast his giant shadow over us. He walked toward us, red in the face, extremely pissed off and with murder flashing in his cruel eyes.

  Then I felt someone yank me back by the shoulder.

  “Is there a problem, sir?” Pepaw asked.

  I was standing behind Pepaw, Jack quickly joining me.

  “Yes, there’s a problem,” the mailman spat, “I saw these kids putting nails on the road and trying to pop people’s tires. When I rolled up and asked them what they were doing, that one right there,” he pointed directly at me, “used foul language and I’m not going to take that kind of lip from a little boy!”

  “You swore at us, too –” Jack blurted out, but Pepaw quickly reached back and covered up my friend’s mouth with his hand.

  “I’m sorry for the way the boys behaved. I will personally take care of them. I’m sorry they troubled you,” Pepaw said, kindly.

  “What’s your name, sir?” The mailman asked Pepaw, standing mere inches from his face.

  I swallowed a sour lump of nerves as I watched in anxiety, hoping that Pepaw would knock him out.

  “My name’s Jerry Jones, and yours?”

  “Mitch Moreland,” the mailman replied, backing away slowly from Pepaw as he spoke. “You won’t be around forever to protect them, old man, so you’d better teach them some manners while you still can.”

  “Oh yeah,” he continued after a small pause and nodding his head knowingly, “I know you’re sick. You see, I deliver your mail, and I see all the doctor bills you got coming in from the hospitals, Jerry. Looks like you’re not doing so well,” he glanced down at me and Jack. “Next time this happens – ‘cause I’m sure there’ll be a next time – he won’t be here to save you. I just want you both to know that.”

  “I’m going to give you to the count of three to get back into your truck, and then I want you to finish your run, and get off this street. Do you understand me, Mitch?” Pepaw asked, coolly.

  “Aye aye, Sir!” the sinister mailman growled. He shot one last chilling glance back at Jack and me, and then got into his vehicle, and continued on down the road.

  “I want you to run home, Jack. You can play with
Jody tomorrow,” Pepaw said.

  “You’re not going to tell my parents about what happened, are you, Mr. Jones?” Jack asked nervously.

  “No son, I’m not going to say anything to them. You just run along home, okay?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Jack said. “Later, Jody.”

  “Later, Jack,” I said and looked up at Pepaw.

  “Are you mad at me, Pepaw?” I asked him.

  “No, Bubba, I’m not mad at you. I was actually just on my way over to talk to you, since we haven’t talked in a while, but once I saw that the situation was getting a little out of control, I figured I had to step in.”

  “I know.”

  “You been okay?” Pepaw asked me, “We didn’t talk much during Thanksgiving.”

  “Yeah, just been playing with Jack and doing the whole school thing.”

  “I remember those days,” Pepaw said, looking up into the sky. “Those were some of the best times of my life; I had great friends, and I did very well in school. That’s important, you know, to get good grades and a good education. It’ll help you be successful later on down the road in life, believe me – but friends are important too.”

  “I know, Pepaw, Momma told me the same thing.”

  “Good,” Pepaw said with a warm smile, “that means she listened to me while she was growing up, ‘cause I gave her and her brother that exact same lecture.”

  “How have you been, Pepaw?” I asked, even though I was scared to hear his response.

  “Well, Jody, to be honest with you, it doesn’t look good for me right now,” Pepaw told me with his usual bluntness.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The doctors say the cancer has spread all the way down into my stomach, and the chemotherapy isn’t working anymore, so it looks like my time here has gotten a little shorter. That’s why I was coming to talk to you, Bubba, I wanted to give you the news myself.”

  “Why are you telling me this, Pepaw? I really don’t want to hear it,” I said angrily. I could feel myself getting sad, but I quickly turned that sadness into anger. “I don’t want to hear about how you’re dying. I don’t even want to think about.”

  “But it’s okay, Bubba. Really, I’m okay with it, and we really should talk about it. Dying is a part of life, and you shouldn’t be afraid of it. It’s all part of God’s plan. He knows everything from the moment you are born, to the moment you die. I’m not afraid to die, Bubba, because I know I’ve lived a good life and there’s a better place waiting for me.”