|
Uncle Charlie crawled out of the trap door, cast a furtive glance up and down the aisle. Benny held his breath, afraid to move. Uncle Charlie was almost as old as the mountains, but his ears and eyes were bright and sharp as any coydog's. He was as wily as one, too, to have out-witted the tax-&-spenders all these years.
Benny could have laughed. If Aunt Mara caught Uncle Charlie slipping in the house with so much as a teaspoon of his magic elixir, Uncle Charlie would be bedding down with the cows all of next month, and probably the one after that, too. She hated booze and dope because of what it did to her family.
Charlie eased the heavy planks down over the trapdoor, covering the door with a tarp and few pitchforks of hay. He took the four jugs in his battle scarred hands. He stepped lightly for a man his size and age, limping from the barn.
Waiting for a few moments, Benny slid over the stall door and ran to the door. Benny glanced around. He listened carefully for noises. The rustle of straw came from the loft and faint groans. He dived into a pile of hay.
A few minutes later a man and his wife descended the ladder from the loft and staggered out of the barn, each supporting the other. Smiles wreathed their faces.
Benny crawled out, brushed off the hay, and immediately clawed his way back in as another couple sneaked into the barn and climbed up the ladder.
More cautious now, Benny slipped out of the hay and moved the covering from the trapdoor. He opened the door and cursed when two people ran into the barn. Benny closed the door quickly and quietly, and pulled the tarp over himself.
The couple embraced and laughed softly, enjoying the feeling of each other's company. Curiosity growing, Benny peeked out from the tarp and scowled.
Geezis, but they were old timers. In their fifties at least, and had been married for centuries. What the heck were they doin' in the barn?
The man and woman climbed to the loft and crawled to a secluded corner.
Benny shook his head and rolled his eyes at them. He opened the door and slid down into darkness. Fishing around in his pocket, he found a lighter.
"Du'e, better not. That stuff is pure nitro."
He felt around until he found an entire stack of wooden crates. "Yo." He whistled softly and pulled out a jug. Benny stumbled through the pitch black of the pit and fumbled around for the ladder.
Finding it, he crawled up and peered over the edge.
Chrisake, another couple? He snarled quietly and ducked. Benny waited until the gentle sounds of footsteps receded and he clambered up, the jug hugged into his chest. He replaced the tarp and hay, then trotted out of the barn, down through the fields and meadows and up onto the mountain behind the house.
He was nearly out of breath when he came to a small clearing. Benny paused in sad reverence. He looked across the glen, and there, invisible unless you knew where to look, was a small hunter's hut made of living saplings woven together.
He stepped across the glen and pushed aside the curtain of brown and green camouflage. Benny stilled, listening to the rustle of mice, sniffing for the rank odor of rotten cucumbers that would warn him of rattlesnakes or copperheads.
"All clear."
Benny crawled through the small opening, and went to the back of the hut. He sat down and brooded about his grandfather, Old-Man Waya.
The old man had made this place right after Uncle Charlie bought the land, about the time Benny had been born. Mom loaned him the gelt to buy the place out of Dad Ben's death benefits. Grampa Waya came up here to meditate and to make war on the darkened-suns, the demonic hosts. And, on rare occasion, to get blasted with a little of Uncle Charlie's Pocono Dew
Benny sighed. He set the jug down with more gentleness than he felt and drew his knees up to his chin and smiled sadly at the living beams. The air was cool and dim, but no wind made it through the densely woven branches. They had grown together over the years and were now an impenetrable wall of living wood. Outside a gentle mist was softly falling but in here it was dry to the point of being dusty. The place was of an ancient design from the days when Benny's Mengwe ancestors, The Outcast People, were hunted out of their homelands as criminals and misfits.
He closed his eyes and let his head drop to his knees. "Oh, Grampa," he whispered and choked on the painful lump in his throat, "why'd you have to die? Why?"
He could smell the death and dying of the old man. Benny had just turned seven, and in secret Leda Melancowski was taking over the reins of old man Grey's coven. She and the women she ruled took Benny and Carl from the Children's Home down in Wilkes-Barre. Grampa had tried to rescue Benny and had gotten a knife in the back. He had died in the trunk of Leda's car, still trying to comfort Benny and to call on the Warrior-guardians of the Sun to rescue the boy.
Not himself. That old man never did care anything about himself. He was a di:Danwida, a Sacred-healer, and he lived his life to make things easier for others. Grampa had seen enough of death and dying in 'Nam, and was haunted by it.
Benny shook his head and took a deep, calming breath.
Everybody thought they had to protect him. "Dammit," he snarled. "I'm a man. Not some snot-nosed freekin brat. I can take care o' myself. Geezis."
Swallowing the tears, Benny rose up to his full height and hopped up to grab at the stub of a branch. He did pull-ups until his arms wanted to break off, then dropped back to the earth.
For a very little, they helped control the anger.
Diving out the low opening, he ran down the path and back to the house, his hair sweaty and steaming in the cold air.
Passing through the crowded house, he ignored everyone. For some reason known only to her, Carl's mother Natalia Ivanoff had come. She wasn't long in letting Benny know why.
She grabbed Benny's arm. "I know your mother had a life insurance policy in my Carl," she cried, her voice breaking as the crocodile tears traced through the heavy make-up she wore. "My Carl would want me to have it."
"Get bent, Mrs. Ivanoff," Benny told her.
"You dirty little good for nothing back-door whore." Natalia Ivanoff struck at him and missed. The crowded room fell silent. He raised a fist. She blanched and without realizing it stepped back from the hate that blazed on her step-grandson's face.
"You hated my dad," Benny said in a calm, iron hard voice. "You used him like he was second-hand goods. He loved you, and you treated him like he was trash." Benny spat on her over polished shoes and artfully dodged her hands. The stair's doorway came open with a hard jerk and he pounded up, his boots resounding like a drums on the worn ashwood planks. Natalia Ivanoff's screams echoed up the stairwell. Benny allowed himself a brief, hard smile.
Smiling, the twins had converged on poor old Natalia with hate even he couldn't surpass. "Hope she doesn't catch fire. Might damage the house." Benny muttered a grim chuckle.
"Yo, Todd-ee," Benny called. "You up here?" He trotted down the hall to his cousin's room and threw open the door. It crashed against the worn oak dresser that held all of Todd's worldly goods.
Todd and a snarling Donna hastily straightened their clothing.
Arms crossed, one heel tucked up under his right buttock, he leaned against the doorframe and stared at the ceiling. It wasn't easy, but he managed not to smirk.
Teeth bared in a grimace of utter disdain, the girl breezed past Benny and ran down the hall. "Careful, Donna," Benny called over his shoulder, "the girls are beating up on Carl's mom." He glanced at Todd. "Think she'll catch fire?" He
pulled out a coin. "Got a whole nickel that says she gets crisped." Benny grinned at his cousin and best bro.
"Ah, didn't break anything, did you, cuz?" Benny murmured a leer in his eyes. He rolled his eyes at Todd and winked broadly.
The darkening flush on Todd's cheeks told Benny it hadn't even made past a little heavy petting. Todd was gonna go to his grave a virgin if he didn't stop telling poor Donna no.
"What do you want?" An angry Todd stared out the window, too embarrassed to look at Benny.
"Yo . . . I wanted to know-" Benny peered out the door. No one in sight, but the hair on the back of his head was crawling. Def'netly not the time to get nervous. He scowled, glanced again, and softly closed the door.
"Yo, Toddy." Benny moved to stand close to his cousin. He shook his head and flopped down on the bed. Through his jacket and jeans he could feel the heat of the two bodies that had been pressed there, so close together, so near to breaking Todd's vows of chastity until the wedding night.
Todd glanced sharply at Benny. He impolitely stared until Benny frowned.
Lacing his hands behind his head, Benny muttered, "I need you to do me a favor." He glanced at Todd. Todd didn't look inclined to do God in heaven any favors right now, let alone the dude who had just busted up a really hot scene in the making. Benny hid a grin and winced. The idea of seeing Donna naked and hungry set his blood to boil.
He saw Todd looking his way and Benny was snapped out of his fantasy.
Donna was not up for grabs. Besides, she was in love with Toddy and saving herself for him. Dude had a ring in his nose already and he didn't even know it.
"You're real good with computers, right?" Benny waited until he saw Todd give a hesitant nod. Taking a deep breath, Benny moistened his lips and softly told his cousin, "I want you to break into the national birth records and make me a year older." He closed his eyes and waited for Todd to laugh.
Neither of them saw the twins slip out of the house, into the dark. It was growing foggy. The time was right for a little play. The girls turned, peering in the window at the woman who hurt Uncle Benny. They sighed with love at its purest. Their eyes burned with hate for the woman.
The woman's bleach-blond hair started smoking.
Trixie giggled and Dixie threw her a crooked grin. Aunt Mara wouldn't miss a little bleach, a little ammonia. Styrofoam and a liter of gasoline. Some odds and ends of farm chemicals. It worked on bugs and deer mice. Maybe it would work on rats.
Dixie giggled and Trixie snickered. It was night, and the fog was beautiful. Two set of red, glowing eyes moved down the wood chips of the path to the barn.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
|
