Half of Paradise

by James Lee Burke

  The guard jabbed his revolver in LeBlanc’s side and shoved him towards the embankment.

  “You’ll think you’re in hell when you’ve been in the box a few hours,” Rainack said. “Get up there.”

  LeBlanc picked up his straw hat and his shirt and climbed up the embankment with the two guards behind him. He draped his shirt over his shoulder and put on his hat. Evans still held his pistol in his hand.

  “Did you hear what I said? I’m going to kill you, you fat-bellied swine.”

  Evans whipped his pistol barrel across LeBlanc’s taped ribs. He grabbed at his sides with both hands and doubled over. His teeth were clenched and his eyes glazed in pain. His black hair hung down over his face, and his knees were buckling as though he were going to fall.

  “You goddamn, I’ll get, oh you goddamn, oh goddamn.…”

  “Get him out of here,” Evans said.

  A guard took him by each arm and led him, doubled over, to one of the trucks. The sweat on his back glistened in the sun. The tape around his ribs was moist and pulling loose from his skin. His hat fell from his head and rolled on the ground. Rainack stooped to pick it up, and threw it inside the cab of the truck and pushed LeBlanc in after it.

  “Pick up the tools and go to work,” Evans said to the men.

  He put his revolver in his holster and snapped the leather strap over the hammer to hold it secure. Daddy Claxton turned the wheelbarrow right side up and began to refill it with his shovel, and the rest of the men picked up their tools and went to work. Evans watched them a minute and then walked farther down the line.

  “Did you see Evans’ face when he called him a fat swine?” Billy Jo said. “He would have shot him if the rest of us hadn’t been here.”

  “He’s mean enough to do it,” Daddy Claxton said.

  “I never seen him so pissed off. Not even at Toussaint,” Jeffry said.

  “He don’t like to be called fat,” Brother Samuel said. “He always wears his pistol belt over his stomach to hide it.”

  “I seen it in his face. He would have shot that guy dead if we wasn’t here,” Billy Jo said.

  “That guy was talking like he was ready for the nut house,” Jeffry said. “What was all that about the stockade and the army?”

  “He was in a military prison somewhere,” Avery said.

  “You liked to got in the middle of it yourself,” Brother Samuel said.

  “It wouldn’t make no difference to Evans who he shot. He don’t care. He likes to hurt anybody,” Jeffry said.

  “The water can didn’t miss Evans’ head but about two inches,” Billy Jo said. “God, I’d like to seen him catch it full in the face.”

  “You think he means it about killing Evans?” Jeffry said.

  “He means it,” Avery said.

  “I served with some tough cons, but that boy can stand up with any of them,” Daddy Claxton said.

  “Somebody done him a lot of wrong,” Brother Samuel said. “When he gets out of the box he ain’t going to rest till he does Evans some bad.”

  “I want to be there to see it,” Billy Jo said.

  “It’s going to be plenty hot in the box unless we get some rain,” Daddy Claxton said.

  “What’s it like in there?” Jeffry said.

  “It ain’t nice,” Toussaint said.

  “I heard a man suffocated in there,” Daddy Claxton said.

  “I couldn’t pull no time in the box. I’d go flip closed up in a place that small,” Jeffry said.

  “You’d pull it if you had to.”

  “Not in this weather. The sun will be like a blowtorch on them sides.”

  “Maybe the warden will ship him out to maximum security at Angola,” Claxton said.

  “Evans will make sure he does his time in the box. He won’t turn in a report if he thinks the warden would ship him out,” Toussaint said.

  “I want to see him get Evans. Benoit’s got a knife hid in his bunk. I’d get it from him and give it to this guy if he’d use it,” Billy Jo said.

  “Benoit ain’t got a knife,” Jeffry said.

  “Yeah, he does. I seen him go in the latrine late at night and work on it with a whetstone.”

  “Leave LeBlanc alone,” Avery said. “If you want Evans cut up, do it yourself.”

  “He can do it for me.”

  “You give him a knife and he’ll end up being executed.”

  “That’s his worry.”

  “Don’t give him the knife.”

  “I do what I take a notion to. He says he wants to kill Evans. I ain’t making him do it.”

  “You talk about getting Evans, but you got to have somebody else do it for you,” Avery said.

  “Get off my back, Broussard. I don’t take orders from nobody on this gang.”

  “I’m telling you, let LeBlanc alone. He’s got a ten-year sentence, and he’s going to have enough trouble without you getting him into any more.”

  “You better mind your business.”

  “If you ain’t enough man to do your own cutting, don’t put a crazy man up to it,” Toussaint said.

  “You guys break my heart,” Billy Jo said. “That nut ain’t going to last a year in here. Why don’t we let him get Evans while he can?”

  “Get him yourself. You been talking about it ever since I come here,” Toussaint said.

  “I been waiting for the right time.”

  “You say you’re breaking out next week. Get Benoit’s knife and take a piece of Evans with you,” Toussaint said.

  “I ain’t taking a chance on fucking up my break.”

  “Then don’t put a knife in a crazy man’s hand if you ain’t willing to stick out your own neck.”

  “What’s your part in this?” Billy Jo said. “Are you Jesus Christ or something?”

  “I don’t like to see you send somebody to the electric chair for what you can’t do yourself,” Toussaint said.

  AVERY BROUSSARD

  It was Sunday afternoon, and LeBlanc had been left in detention overnight, even though it was against normal disciplinary procedure. The day was bright and the sun reflected off the tin roofs of the barracks in a white glare, and the air was very still and heavy with the smell of the pines and dust and heat. Gang three had been assigned to police the area outside the barracks. They moved about slowly with their cloth sacks, picking up bits of paper and cigarette butts out of the dirt. Their wash-faded denim shirts were bleached almost white, and the stenciled letters LA. PENAL SYSTEM were black across their backs.

  Inside Avery’s barracks blankets were stretched across the windows to keep out the sun. The noise of running water came from the showers where the men were washing their clothes. Benoit and Jeffry were sweeping the grained floor with brooms, and three other men were scrubbing it behind them with soap and water. The bunks and footlockers were pushed back against the wall in order that the entire barracks floor could be well cleaned before five o’clock inspection. Avery and Toussaint stood at the window with the blanket pulled aside and looked out into the heat.

  “It must be over a hundred degrees in the box,” Avery said.

  “It’s hotter than that,” Toussaint said. “They’ll have to let him out this afternoon. A man can’t take more than two days of detention.”

  “You guys move out of the way,” Benoit said, sweeping the dust in their direction.

  They stepped back and let him sweep past.

  “Why are you all standing around? We got inspection in a couple more hours,” he said.

  “We were on cleanup this morning,” Avery said.

  “I been on cleanup all day. I ain’t had time to do my laundry yet.”

  “That ain’t our fault. You’re doing Billy Jo’s share because you couldn’t pay off your card game last night,” Toussaint said.

  “Who says so?”

  “Daddy Claxton.”

  “Claxton’s ass. He don’t know nothing.”

  “Wait a minute. I want to talk to you,” Avery said.

  �
��I got work to do.”

  “Do you have a knife?”

  “I ain’t got no knife. Who told you that?”

  “What will you take for it? I got two dollars.”

  “I ain’t got no knife, and it ain’t for sale, anyway.”

  “I’ll give you the two dollars. You can pay Billy Jo what you owe him and sleep the rest of the afternoon,” Avery said.

  “If I had a knife I wouldn’t sell it for no two bucks.”

  “All right, keep it. And if Billy Jo asks you for it don’t give it to him.”

  “What’s he want it for?”

  “He’s going to give it to LeBlanc to kill Evans.”

  “Evans needs killing,” Benoit said.

  “If LeBlanc gets Evans with your knife I’m going to let the warden know where it came from.”

  “That ain’t good talk.”

  “They’ll think you were in on it. That could mean ten to twenty years,” Avery said.

  “You shoot off your mouth and you won’t finish the week.”

  “Maybe you’re right, but you’ll spend the rest of your life in the work camp.”

  “I only got two more years.”

  “Don’t give Billy Jo your knife,” Avery said.

  “I ain’t saying I will or I won’t, but it’s going to hit the fan when you mouth off to the warden.”

  “Twenty years. There’s a good chance they’ll bury you here.”

  “I ain’t going to say nothing about what you told me, because somebody might slip up on you one night and wrap a belt around your neck. But don’t threaten me no more, or I’ll give you that knife myself, personal.”

  “It works both ways, Benoit. You give away the knife and you’ll rot in here.”

  Benoit’s small eyes glared at Avery.

  “You might get to ride the midnight special out of here in a wood box,” he said.

  He moved off with the broom, sweeping ahead of him.

  “I don’t think you got any sense,” Toussaint said.

  “It scared him. He won’t give Billy Jo the knife,” Avery said.

  “Like he says, he might give it to you instead.”

  They looked out into the heavy stillness of the afternoon. Tufts of grass grew around the edges of the barracks, and the bare dirt grounds, trodden to dust, looked hot and dry. The men from gang three sweated in the sun. Avery watched one man pick up several cigarette butts and turn his back to the other men and conceal them in his pocket.

  “Here he comes. They’re bringing him in,” Jeffry shouted from the other end of the barracks.

  The men put down their brooms and mops and crowded to the windows. They pulled aside the blankets and pressed their faces against the wire mesh to see both ends of the grounds.

  “Where is he? I don’t see him,” Daddy Claxton said.

  “Around the other way. I seen them from the latrine. He looks like a baked apple.”

  The key turned in the lock and the door opened. Evans and Rainack brought LeBlanc inside by each arm. His legs wouldn’t hold him and broke at the knees when he tried to set his weight down. His denims were smeared with black and red rust. His skin was raw, and his hands and forehead were spotted with dark red places. His heavy beard was covered with flakes of dirt and rust. They dragged him to his bunk and threw him across it. LeBlanc stared blindly at the two guards. His breath came in pants.

  “Evans,” he said. “I can’t see nothing yet, but it’s you. I been thinking about it since you put me in there. I know how I’m going to do it. God damn me to hell I’ll cut your fucking stomach out.”

  “You want another two days in the box?” Evans said.

  “Let’s get out of here. He’s stinking up the place,” Rainack said.

  “He smells like somebody pissed on a radiator, don’t he?”

  “Let’s go. My relief comes on in a few minutes.”

  Evans took off his sun helmet and wiped his fore head with his sleeve. There was a damp smear across the khaki. He looked down at LeBlanc and put on his helmet.

  “Just like piss on a radiator,” he said.

  “Come on, I want to wash this guy off my hands,” Rainack said.

  They walked out of the barracks, and locked the barred door behind them.

  “Look at his hands. They’re burned,” Jeffry said. “He must have tried to push the lid open.”

  “His head’s burnt, too,” Billy Jo said.

  “Who’s got some grease?” Toussaint said.

  “There’s some around the pipes in the latrine.”

  “Go get it.”

  “I ain’t going to get all dirty,” Jeffry said.

  “Get some grease, Billy Jo.”

  “I just got cleaned up.”

  “I’ll get it,” Brother Samuel said.

  “He must have tried to bust the box open with his head,” Daddy Claxton said.

  LeBlanc had his hand over his eyes. He took it away and blinked at the ceiling. The pupils were small black dots.

  “He can’t see nothing,” Jeffry said.

  “He ain’t seen light for two days,” Toussaint said.

  “I know how I’m going to do it,” LeBlanc said. “I figured it out. I kept seeing his face like it was painted inside the lid. I thought of all the ways I could do it to him, and then I decided.”

  “How you going to do it?” Jeffry said.

  “I got it figured.”

  “Get him undressed,” Toussaint said.

  Avery took off his shirt and trousers, and threw them on the floor. LeBlanc’s underclothes were yellow and foul.

  “He’ll stink up everything in here,” Benoit said.

  “Shut up,” Avery said.

  “Here’s the grease. There ain’t much,” Brother Samuel said.

  “Put it on his hands and face.”

  Brother Samuel spread it thinly over the blistered swellings.

  “What are you doing?” LeBlanc said.

  “It will take the heat out of them burns,” Samuel said.

  “How you going to get Evans?” Jeffry said.

  “You’ll find out when the time comes.”

  “Let’s strip him down and cover him up,” Toussaint said.

  They finished undressing him and covered him with the sheet. His hands lay on top of the sheet, taut like claws and black from the grease.

  “We’ll bring you some supper from the dining hall tonight,” Brother Samuel said. “When you got some rest and something to eat we’ll get you a shower. You can go on sick call tomorrow.”

  “I ain’t going on sick call.”

  “They’ll give you some medicine for them burns,” Daddy Claxton said. “They might even keep you in the infirmary a couple of days. You ain’t got to go out on the line.”

  “I don’t want no sick call.”

  “You ain’t in no shape to work tomorrow,” Toussaint said.

  “I’ll be out for morning roll call.”

  The men went back to their jobs and let LeBlanc sleep. The floor was swept and wetted down and mopped. The bunks and footlockers were put back in place and squared away. The blankets were taken down from the windows and folded over the bunks. Someone in the shower was drying his laundry by slapping it against the wall. The brooms and buckets were put away, and the men sat on their bunks and smoked, waiting for five o’clock inspection. Avery cleaned out his footlocker and set things in order while Toussaint stood at the window.

  “That man ain’t going to finish his time,” Toussaint said.

  “Probably not,” Avery said.

  “How’d you get mixed up with him?”

  “He used to run whiskey down the river. We were caught together after he shot at the state police.”

  Toussaint leaned on his elbows and looked out the window at the trees.

  “This weather’s got to break. It’s too hot,’ he said.

  “Brother Samuel says it’s a sign.”

  “He’s right about it ain’t being natural. I never seen it stay hot so long without
rain.”

  Avery closed his footlocker and tucked in the corners of his blanket around the bunk.

  “I heard thunder last night,” he said.

  “I been hearing it for weeks. It’s got to rain soon.”

  Monday morning the sky was black with clouds when the men lined up for roll call. The air was chill and moist, and lightning split the sky. The dark pines swayed in the wind, and a few drops of water made wet dimples in the dust. A great thunderhead was moving in from the Gulf. The wind blew clouds of dust across the grounds, and a straw hat was whipped from someone’s head and swept end over end until it hit the wire fence and could go no farther. The captain and the guards had their slickers on. Some of the men asked to go back to the barracks and get their coats. A clap of thunder sounded directly overhead.

  At ten o’clock the sky became storm-black and the rains came down. The men were working in the ditch, and the water drummed on the roofs of the trucks and ran off onto the ground and flowed into the dry and cracked earth. The men couldn’t see farther away than the trees because of the steel-gray sheet of water. The ground turned to mud, and large pools formed and drained off into the irrigation ditch. The clay embankment washed away and the men worked in water up to their knees. They tripped over one another and lost their tools, groped for them, and tried to climb out of the ditch, sliding back down into the water again. They threw shovel loads of soggy clay up on the sides to rebuild the embankment, but the water washed it back in the ditch. Three pumps were brought in and set on the bottom, and the rubber hoses drained the water over the top of the embankment, but the waterline continued to rise. Only one handle of the wheelbarrow could be seen. The rain drove coldly into the men’s skin like needles. The water was red and rising higher. The pumps clogged with clay and ceased to work. Half the men had lost their tools and were trying to pull themselves out of the ditch by the roots protruding from the sides. The guards couldn’t tell which men belonged to which gang in the confusion. Evans stood on the embankment with the rain streaming off his helmet and slicker, shouting down at gang five. Farther down the ditch a wall of dirt caved in from one of the sides and the water poured through the opening.

  The work captain walked up and down the line blowing his whistle for the guards to reassemble their gangs and to get them into the trucks. The men who still had their tools threw them up out of the ditch and started pushing one another up after them.