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On
a faint breath of air that drifted on the warming October morning the Guardian
could smell the stench of the unborn child Leda Melancowski had sacrificed.
He
rumbled softly, eyeing the spirit she sacrificed to. Not much, that one. The
dark-sun, Rattlesnake, rested in a cave far below, uncaring and unconcerned with
his servant Leda Melancowski.
Two
Swords snorted.
He
squatted behind the kid and gave Benny a rough pat on the back.
Anna
let Benny pull away. Her smile was a little crooked as she brushed the blood
stiffened hair out of her son’s eyes. She closed her mouth on a silent moan.
The kid was born for trouble as assuredly as she was of the ani:Wy:O:Ming. You
could see it in those blue eyes of his. Pure hellion.
But
her hellion.
You
are my son. The fierce thought raged through Anna. Mine. Somehow, some way,
you will survive.
The
‘how’ of it that worried Anna.
She
took him by the hair and gently tugged.
Benny
raised his head. He tried to smile.
“I
l-love you Mom,” he said in a kind of quiet despair. “But I can’t be the
kind of son you deserve. I . . . .” Benny grimaced and looked away. “I’m
s-sorry.”
Half-heartedly,
she smiled. “You are, Benny. Your dad would be so proud of you-”
“Bull.
He’d be ashamed.” Benny’s anger rasp put. He straightened. “I won’t
ever be a man. I can’t,” he shouted. “Men don’t . . . don’t . . . whore.”
He cast a guilt-ridden look at Carl.
“Kid,
it ain’t yesterday that matters, it’s today. Ain’t neither of us had a
chance to say no . . . .” Carl’s broad shoulders moved in an expansive
shrug. “It don’t do squat to blame yourself.” Blame me, his eyes told
Benny. It was my fault for mixing you up with old man Ryan in the first place.
“Kid,”
he said, his face an agony of uncertainty, “You already are a man. A real man.
A better man than most of the dudes I know.” He took a breath, his face
scowling and unreadable. “And you’re a better man than . . . me.” A faint
smile eased the chronic anger on Carl’s face. He grunted a wry, “Huh,” at Benny.
“No
kid, and fer sure no punk, would offer
his life up for some nut case like me. You grow into the honor of manhood, dude.
It ain’t . . . ain’t something they give you at a certain day. You are a man
when you learn to live for other folks, instead of only for yourself. You do
that now, bro.”
Carl
choked. Tears threatened the narrowed eyes. He blinked them away, his expression
became fierce.
Clearing
his throat, he snapped, “Don’t sweat it, Grey. Just finish growing up and
beget me a mess of grandkids. Ok?”
There
was fear and frustration in Anna’s face. They already had grandchildren. All
products of the Project’s breeding farms. Carl leaned past Benny and took her
hand in his. Strong, work callused fingers rubbed her hands.
I
love you,
his mouth formed. Her head bowed in shy acknowledgement. Blood suffused Anna’s
face until she seemed to glow with pleasure.
Slowly,
careful of their newfound and fragile relationship, she disengaged her hand from
his, and began to pat the dirt and blood from her son’s beaming face with the
cold towel.
The
water in the bowl turned black, then red as the coal dirt settled out to form a
gritty black layer.
“Want
to tell me about it?”
Anna
took away the now warmed water and daubed on some more of her pine salve. Benny
winced, but remained stoic. Anna sighed, meticulously kept her gaze on the job
at hand and not on her son’s guarded eyes. The wounds sealed shut, the salve
bright with scent and substance.
Benny
shook his head slightly, half pleading with his mother to drop the subject. He
was home, he survived to live another day. What else mattered?
“Speak
a little louder, will ya’, kid?” Carl growled sarcastically. “I ain’t as
young as I use t’ be, and my ears are a little dense, ist?”
Benny
snarled wordlessly at Carl, teeth bared in silent warning.
They
both tensed, ready to fight it out to the bitter end.
“Stop
it, both of you,” Anna cried.
The
pair of them turned on her with sullen glares. Anna bit her lip to hold back
laughter that skated too close to hysteria. They reminded her of a couple of
sulky children.
“I
ought to paddle you. Both of you,” she told Carl’s brightening face.
Carl
scowled at her. “I ain’t into that crap.”
“Anymore,
ain’t it, Pappy?” Benny snickered and whispered in a harsh mutter, “Slug.”
Gritting
his teeth, Carl slapped Benny on the head hard enough that they both winced.
Balling
his fist, Carl tapped Benny on the shoulder. “Uh . . . ‘pologies, kid.” He
grimaced. “I ain’t . . . I didn’t mean to,” he finished with a heavy
shrug.
A
quiet Anna nodded and ask Benny where he had been.
“Uh
. . . just a date,” Benny hedged, and tried not to squirm.
She
eyed him, and he ducked his head.
“Up
in ‘Barre.”
Her
look could have withered grass.
“Uh
. . . well.” He started squirming, his mind spinning, reaching out to find
some excuse, some reason.
“With
Angie.” He was dead. Benny closed his eyes and waited for the first salvo of
his doom to ring out. It was not long in coming.
“The
DA's brat?”
“That
slut?”
The
roars slammed him front and back.
Purely
by instinct, Carl slapped him on the head.
“You
got no right,”
Benny screamed.
Carl
was shocked and pained by the venom in Benny’s voice. He let Benny plow him on
the face a half a dozen times, hard, and Carl bowed his head. He didn’t have
any right. If not for him Leda would never have touched the kid.
Finally
having had enough, Carl leaped to his feet and raised his hands. The cast of his
face was murderous. He slapped aside Benny’s fists and drew back to knock
Benny into the next century.
In
the back of head, Gramps muttered, Ut-oh.
A
wary fear came into Benny eyes. He was dead. After what the three nimrods at the
Blackman Street did last night, he was gone. Benny looked at the broad fists.
His eyes narrowed and his head cocked to one side. With a grim determination he
discovered within himself only last night, Benny straightened, waiting for the
blow.
Ashamed,
Carl dropped his fists, an awkward grimace passed his face. He sagged back to
the bench.
“Yeah,
kid I know I don’t. I . . . know.”
“And
you’re real sorry, ain’t it,
Carl?” Benny leaned over and spat in Carl’s face. “Well I ain’t, man.
I’m friggin glad you split. So why don’t you pack it in and go back to
that-”
Anna
screamed, “Benny.” She pushed him
aside.
Stumbling
out of her way, Benny was astonished to see her wipe the saliva from Carl’s
chest and face, her hands gentle.
Anna
kissed her husband and hugged him. She held onto the big man until the powerful
body eased its grim countenance and he started to relax.
“Mom?
How could you? After what he did -”
Taking
a deep breath, Carl rasped, “I deserved it. I love you, y’ know. I love your
mom. And I know you both love me. I don’t deserve love,” he added. Benny
winced at the depth of Carl’s bitterness. “But I figure you wouldn’t o’
done that if you didn’t care, at least a little. I mean it, Benny-dude, when I
say I’m sorry.”
“My
beloved-man,” Anna whispered and stroked his face.
He
scowled, unhappy, and nodded.
Appalled
at what he had done, Benny took a hesitant step forward. He sank to his knees
and hugged Carl around the waist.
“I’m
the sorry-ass, Papa-Bear, not you,” Benny said gruffly and squeezed hard
enough to bend ribs.
Carl’s
arms went around them both.
“You
two are the only family I ever had.” He closed his eyes and held tightly to
them. How his mother would laugh when he ask for a hug as a kid. She despised
all men, and that included her own son and raised Carl on her razor sharp temper
and on the end of her fist.
Still
he was nutty enough to hope she would some day love him back. But here he had
everything he ever wanted, and all without the asking.
Sniffing
back a few of what looked suspiciously like tears, he released his wife and
stepson.
The
words catching in his throat, Benny ask, “You home to stay, Carl?”
He
shook his head. Benny’s face stiffened and Carl scowled.
“Look,
man . . . .” Carl made an empty gesture. He grimaced and said, “I can’t
just yet. I don’t touch her, Anna. I give you my word.”
Anna
nodded. Carl never lied to her, not once. She looked into his eyes, saw the
hollowed depths of pain there, and the fear he had for her sake and Benny’s.
“This
is just something I got to do. I can’t come home. Not yet.” His eyes pleaded
with Anna to understand.
With
a sigh of frustrated longing, Anna lay her hand on his shoulder. “You’re our
de:dan:wa:ki, Carl. Our warrior. I
know you aren’t doing this because you want to. No, chill,” she firmly told
a protesting Benny. “I saw this all happening a long time ago, when he and I
got married. It’s a time of testing and renewal.” She grinned at them both
and slapped them gently on the head.
“After
school, man,” an earnest Carl said to Benny. “I want you to come up to
Freeland. Me and Jukebox, we’re opening a new shop, just for motorcycles. I
want you to come up and help out, like you did before-” He shook his head,
angry with himself. He scowled an apology at Benny.
“‘S
OK, Papa-Bear,” Benny told him. He smacked Carl on the head and grinned.
Suddenly worried, he yelped, “Hey, what about old man-”
“Piss
on him.” Carl grunted in disdain. He snarled a cold grin and snapped his
fingers. “He must o’ fired me by now. If his cousin don’t like it, I’m
going to rent me a law-rat and get some changes made.”
Skeptical
of someone as poor as Carl getting anything resembling justice, Benny grunted.
“Do not know. What you had with the parole rat’s cousin wasn’t much, but
better ‘n jail time, du'e.”
“Yeah.
Barely better.”
Benny
glanced at Anna. Eyelashes wet with tears, she glanced up.
Reluctant
to hurt either of them, Benny nodded. He felt wary, uncertain. He wanted to be
with Carl, but Carl was as deep in trouble as he was. “It wouldn’t take much
for O’Brian to put us both behind bars. I’ll come, man.” He smiled, and
the dread of jail evaporated. He thrust a battered and grimy paw at Carl.
To
camouflage the joy he felt, Carl grunted. A reluctant, crooked smile tipped the
full lips. He gripped Benny’s hand hard and nodded. “It’ll be cool,” he
said with more certainty than he felt. “I’m married to your mother. What the
freek can they do?”
Any
excuse.
Benny
shrugged it off. He needed Carl more than he feared jail.
“Let’s
hope nothing,” Anna said with a wry groan. “The Project took you out of
tighter places than Luzerne County lock-up.”
Benny
paled, but shook his head. “They got me,” he said with a chilling smile,
“and they got a corpse.” He glanced out the front window and saw old man
Ryan’s once handsome Deusenburg roll passed the house. It looked like it had
been through a war. Come to think of it, it had.
Carl
watched Benny’s face for a few seconds. He pulled the teen into a rough
embrace. “You don’t be a moron, kid. I need you too much.”
Shocked
at this admission by tough, self-reliant Papa-Bear, Anna and Benny looked at
Carl in stunned silence.
Carl
spread his hands and nodded, his face scorching hot.
He
stood, hitched up the towel around a too lean waist.
“Come
on,” he said, gruff and rumbling. His heart was swollen with a hope for the
future. “I’ll tuck you in bed and read you a nighty-night story.”
He
smiled serenely and Benny scowled, wary of the placid look on Carl’s face. One
thang Carl ain’t, Benny knew, was
tranquil.
He
preferred to see the burly Russian-American growling over something. Carl at
peace could mean only one thing: Hell for everybody else.
“Carl,
no.”
Benny
yelped and the robust giant tackled him, scooped him up, and then hurtled them
both through the loft’s trapdoor seven feet above the floor.
In
a convulsive movement, Benny threw his arms around Carl’s husky neck, certain
they would both crash into the low ceiling, then pile onto the floor.
Carl
straddled the trapdoor, satisfaction on the broad, starved face.
“Look,
kid, I love you too, but don’t expect no kiss.”
He
smirked at Benny’s choice of words.
Below,
Anna gasp in apprehension, then forced herself to look up.
Putting
two fingers in her mouth, and with a lecherous gleam in her eyes, she whistled
shrilly with an easy appreciation.
“Yo,
Car-el,” she taunted, “I thought you were a Rooshkie, not a Scot. Love what
you folks wear in the way of undies.” She smirked. “Yo, bay-bee." When Carl blushed all the way down to the roots, it
was all the way down. “I like a nice
pink tushie,” she observed with a critical eye. “Even your you-know is
changing color.”
He
glared down at Anna and got a smug grin in return. Carl sighed. Anna was no
blue-nose. Not by a long shot. Even if she did hate pre-marital fooling around.
She once caused him many a sleepless night and early morning soak in the frigid
waters of various creeks and swimming pools before they were wed.
Huh.
Since the first time he met her, should say. Carl grimaced, thinking of the
times he’d had to abandon his clothing at the DA's pool when the jerk called
the fuzzy creeps. Man, but there was a nice pool! Not easy to escape the law
from, but a great place to take a bath.
He
leaped away from the trapdoor, snarling as Anna whistled and cheered. Dumping
Benny in his army surplus cot, he brushed his lips across Benny’s forehead.
“G’
night, son,” he whispered and ducked under Benny’s fist.
“You
rotten scuds. You did it. You kissed me. Gross.” Benny scrubbed at the faint
moisture and warmth of Carl’s lips. His ribs gave a harsh reminder and Benny
hugged himself. How many foot prints did he have on his sides? Geezis,
but it hurt.
“Benny?
You OK, my man?” Carl scowled, hands working at his side. Carl looked at
Benny’s face and wanted to smash something.
Benny
muttered a savage grunt. “Yeah. Just freekin jolly. Now beat it, before I beat
you.”
With
a laugh, Carl ask, “You and what army, kid?”
“Me
and a freekin Brownie. And I’ll only be there to make sure she don’t hurt
you too much.”
Still
chuckling, Carl ignored the steep ladder and hopped through the trap. He caught
the side of the trapdoor, grinned broadly at the boy, then lowered himself into
Anna’s waiting arms.
He
winked at her.
“Is
he all right, Carl?”
“He’ll
survive, babe.” Carl bent down and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. “He
looks pretty raw, and had some hard knocks, but he’ll be OK.”
“That
kid is as mulish and bull-headed as you are.”
They
sat on the couch, snuggling under a handmade quilt she patched together, and
watched the flames in the fireplace die to glowing embers.
“His
father never would admit to it when he was in pain, either.” She glared
briefly at him, then eased her hand between them. He gasp and she grinned
knowingly.
A
thin, hungry face peeked down from the trapdoor.
“Please
God, make him stay . . . .”
He
crept back to bed and Benny fell asleep to the sound of soft loving coming up
from the sofa-bed in the living room.
It
crawled into his sleep, a maggot-ravaged human skull. The jaws opened. Benny
struggled, trying to swim back up a black well of horror. He cried out, his
voice soft and weak. It laughed and jeered at his fruitless struggle. The
massive, dank jaws dragged Benny in.
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