Summer of the Guns

by Justin Daniel Herman

  “You goddamn little shit!” the big man shouted as he got up, holding onto his bloody shoulder. Then he started walking toward us.

  I rushed to Sara’s side and pushed the suitcase and blankets out. Then, holding tight to my little sister, I jumped from the moving train.

  We hit and rolled on the slope. I got on my feet as fast as I could and looked back at the boxcar. I could see his face peeking out the open door as the train rolled away. He just stood there watching us as the train picked up speed. By the time I looked back at Sara, she was pulling my arm.

  “I’ll be looking for you, you yellow brats!” he yelled.

  Sara and I ran toward an irrigation ditch, then jumped down into it and continued to run. Fortunately, it didn’t have any water in it. Finally we came to a stop where a dirt road went over the ditch. We were both gasping loudly. I could see bloody scrapes on Sara’s face. When I looked carefully, I saw they were just scratches. I rubbed the dirt from her face with my sleeve, then hugged her.

  After we stood there a few minutes, I crawled out of the ditch. I could hear the train sounding its horn half a mile off. I motioned to Sara to follow, then helped her climb up. We walked back quietly to where we’d jumped to retrieve the suitcase and the doll. When we finally reached them, we saw that the suitcase had sprung open. Carefully, I put our possessions back inside it except for an empty canteen. Then I latched it back up. Sara was already holding the blankets again. One of the cantaloupes had remained intact, but the other one was smashed. I wrapped the good one into the blanket, then took the suitcase and started walking.

  Sara just stood there blankly. I could see her tears glisten in the moonlight. “I’m sorry,” I said, hugging her to me. “I’m sorry, but I’m doin’ the best I can. You’ve got to follow me now and I promise things will get better.” Then I let go of her gently and started to walk again, looking back to make sure she was following.

  Further down the tracks I found my pocketknife. I picked it up and thrust it in my pocket. I’d dropped it without even realizing it. We must have walked a mile after that. We could hear the sound of an occasional car far in the distance. When we passed a big metal shed I spotted a water faucet where I filled the canteen. We both drank from the faucet, then I washed the dried blood off Sara’s face.

  After another spell of hard walking, I saw Shanty Town across the avenue—the place Captain Sykes had pointed out as we drove to his house. There were some flickering lamps among the tin and cardboard shacks. I thought of approaching someone there but that would have been too dangerous. There might be another Boomer waiting to grab us.

  We crossed the broad street like a couple of cats—there wasn’t a car in sight—as I led Sara into a dump. Fortunately, it didn’t smell too bad. Junk was strewn like confetti—broken coke bottles, rusted tin, and parts of cars. There was a long series of little hills where the kids had been riding their bikes, making regular pathways.

  We sat down on some rocks and rested, then looked up at the moon. It looked like a giant silver Christmas ornament all alone in the blackness. “Someday they’ll fly right to it,” I said to Sara. “I read a book about it. They blasted a man out of a cannon and he went all the way to the moon.” I knew she couldn’t hear me, but somehow it made me feel better.

  Over in the west there were big billowing clouds. They glowed in the moonlight, then lit up with lightning flashes. We listened to the distant rumbling for a while as the clouds moved toward us. All of a sudden a thunderbolt exploded so close that it made the ground shake. Sara squeezed Raggedy and gave me a scared look. I figured we’d have to find shelter or we’d get soaked in the approaching storm. As I searched for shelter, I saw a big packing crate a couple of hundred yards away. I motioned to Sara, then we walked over to have a look. Someone had laid a big tin sign across the top of it to make a roof. When we walked around to the other side we saw a board propped against a cut-out hole that served as a doorway.

  I went over and tapped on the board. “Anyone in there?” I called nervously.

  There was no answer.

  Finally I got on my hands and knees and pulled away the board, then poked my head through. Once my eyes adjusted I could see that it was empty. It was plenty big enough to lie down in, but not tall enough to stand up. I finally lit a match and crawled inside. There were a couple of torn seat cushions against one wall and magazines strewn around. Someone had tacked sketches of baseball players and airplanes to the wall. Then I saw a name printed neatly in crayon. “Kelly’s Place. Keep Out,” it read. I figured it had to be some kid’s clubhouse.

  It was starting to sprinkle when I finally got Sara inside and fixed the blanket so she could lie down. I pushed one of the cushions under her head, then sat at the door in case anybody came. After a while it rained harder, making a drumming sound on the tin sign that served as our roof. I lay my head on one of the cushions and covered myself with a blanket. I must have fallen into a deep slumber. I don’t remember anything after that until the next day. When I woke the next morning, somebody was crouched over me, shaking my shoulder.

  5

  At first glance, I thought he was a girl. His long blonde hair stuck out under the baseball cap pulled down over his round, freckled face. Something was stuffed into the breast pocket causing it to bulge. All the while I stared at him he was yelling at me in a high-pitched voice.

  “Who the hell are you?” he demanded. “You’ve got no right here. This is my place—I made it. You make your own clubhouse.”

  I didn’t know quite what to say so I got on my hands and knees, then pointed at Sara. “She’s asleep,” I whispered. I pointed at the doorway after that, then crawled outside and stood up.

  “What’s going on here?” he demanded as he came outside with me. He wore blue denim pants, all faded and torn in places. He also had on an oversized man’s work shirt. He was trying to sound tough but I could tell he was harmless. “I’ve never seen you two around here,” he went on. “Where’d you come from?”

  “Nowhere,” I said. “We ain’t gonna stay. We just used this place last night to get out of the rain.” Just then Sara came crawling out. She looked at him curiously, twirling her curls with one hand.

  “Why don’t she say anything?” the boy asked me.

  “She’s deaf,” I replied. “She can’t hear you. She’s my little sister. I’m twelve and she’s six.”

  “Well, I’m twelve too!” said the boy proudly, pulling off his billed cap and scratching his head. He was sort of cute in spite of his frowning face. We stared at each other for a while, sizing each other up. Then he spoke hesitantly.

  “Are you and your sister in trouble?” he asked.

  “Nah,” I said. “We’ll make out okay. We’re headin’ for California. My uncle’s waitin’ for us there.”

  “I thought you were a boy,” he said, “but you’re a girl in boys’ clothes.” He looked me up and down. “My name’s Kelly,” he said in a friendlier voice. “I guess you seen my sign in there and my drawings.”

  “Yeah,” I answered, “you’re a pretty good artist.”

  “My real name’s Percy Kelly but I don’t like sissy names so I just go by Kelly.”

  “Mine’s Billie Jane, but I go by Billie,” I answered. He gave me a nod then turned to Sara. She and Kelly just stood there sizing each other up. As usual, Sara had Raggedy with her.

  “That doll looks like it’s stuffed too full,” he said.

  “You got something against dolls?” I asked. I glanced at the doll, worried that he’d make out the shape of the gun inside it. Only the stuffing hid it completely.

  “I don’t care if she plays with dolls,” he said defensively. “There’s a couple of ‘em out there in the dump, if she wants ‘em. Broken ones.”

  “You hungry?” I asked as I picked up one of our cantaloupes. I was trying to change the subject. I cut it into three pieces before he could answer, handing one to Kelly and the other to Sara.

  “Well, scrape the damn seeds out,”
he said. I took his piece back and scraped the seeds out, tossing them into the dirt. Then I did the same with the other two pieces. We all ate silently, the juice dripping on our chins. Kelly acted like he was as famished as we were.

  “I get tired of these things,” he said as he took a bite. “Half the time I can’t smell anything but rotting cantaloupes around here.” Then he looked at me and smiled. “But thanks anyways.” He took another bite, then pointed south to a dirt street that ran along one side of the dump. “I live over there.” On the far side of the street were a row of houses. Some of them were just unpainted wooden cabins, but there were a couple of well-kept places, too. One of them was a cottage of white stucco with a picket fence out front. The other was a big adobe house across the street and down the block.

  “That’s where I live,” he resumed, pointing to the well-kept cottage. “I stay with my Uncle Ace.”

  “That’s a nice house,” I said.

  “He likes to keep it neat and tidy. Big waste of time if you ask me. I have to do a lot of yard work and stuff.”

  “Who lives in that one?” I asked, pointing to the well-kept adobe place. It was twice the size of Kelly’s house.

  “Oh. That’s Jack Wells’ house. He lives there with his brother Lenny. I don’t like ‘em and Ace don’t either.”

  “Where’s your mom and dad?” I asked.

  “Haven’t got any,” he said. “My mom’s dead and my dad took off. I’ve lived with Ace for five years now.”

  I squinted at him. “Sorry about your ma. Our ma died, too. We had to live with our aunties, only they didn’t like us. Then Papa came and got us. We’re on our way to California.” I didn’t tell him about Papa going to prison, of course.

  “Where’s your dad?” Kelly asked.

  “He’s in the hospital,” I answered. “He got hurt in a car crash,” I lied. “Sara and me are going to California to live. He’ll come, too, when he gets well.”

  There was a long silence, then Kelly spoke again. “Well, maybe I can help you,” he said while fishing in his shirt pocket for something. He finally pulled out a cigarette. He sat down on a rock and lit it with a wooden match.

  “You smoke cigarettes?” I said, a little taken aback.

  “What of it?” he answered. “I stole it from Ace. He smokes these mentholated cigarettes for his health, but they make him cough half to death anyway. He says he’s got asthma or something. He can’t do no work. Not unless it’s at a desk.”

  “He’s got a pretty nice house for someone who can’t work,” I said. I realized I was being rude, but I couldn’t take it back.

  “He gets a pension from being in the war. He makes me help out, too. I sell cantaloupes and newspapers.”

  Kelly went on puffing, then suddenly looked up again. “Haven’t you ever smoked?” he asked. “People will call you a sissy if you turn down a cigarette. But I guess you wouldn’t care anyway, since you’re a girl.”

  “I don’t care what they call me. I can lick any boy my age, and I’ve smoked a hundred cigarettes at least. It’s just boring, that’s all.” I was lying, of course.

  “Well, take a puff or two and prove it,” he said, handing me the half-burned cigarette.

  I took it from him nervously and inhaled deeply. All at once I started to get dizzy. I had to sit down before I fell. “Here,” I said, handing it back to him. “It’s too early for me. I smoke after dinner like my dad did. A cigarette tastes best then.”

  Kelly went on puffing contentedly until he finished the cigarette, then stamped it out with his foot. “Gotta be careful with these things,” he said. “Ace said cigarettes killed my mother. She burned up in a chair.”

  “Oh,” I said. “That’s awful.” I’d heard of people burning down their houses with cigarettes, but never anyone burning themselves up in a chair.

  “I don’t remember it,” he went on. “I was only two when it happened. I lived with my dad ‘til he ran off. Then Ace took me in. He’s my dad’s older brother. Ace had a wife then but she’s dead, too.”

  “Oh,” I said, not really knowing how to respond. “You said you could help us,” I continued, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “Of course I can,” he answered, “but I’m not sure I want to.”

  “Okay,” I said, “then don’t help us. We’re goin’ to California anyway. We don’t need you. My dad gave us enough money for a bus ticket.”

  “How you gonna buy it?” Kelly asked. “They won’t sell a bus ticket to a couple of kids.” I knew he was right, of course. We had nowhere to go. By now Captain Sykes would have cops after us, I thought to myself. He’d assume we’d stolen the car and run away. Tommy Sykes and his friend would be looking for us, too, but for their own purposes. Our only hope was that they’d think we’d jumped the train and gotten out of town.

  “Well, I might help you,” Kelly resumed, as he picked up the canteen and took a swallow. “Ugh!” he grunted, spitting the water out. “It’s too warm! We’ve got cold water at home in the icebox.”

  Then he handed the canteen to Sara. She turned it to her lips and drank it half empty. Then I drank the rest of it. Sara looked like a ragamuffin, with her face scraped and her hair in tangles. I must not have looked much better.

  “Do you think your uncle would let Sara and me use your bathroom to clean up?” I asked.

  Kelly didn’t answer at first, then spoke up with a kind of false confidence, like he was trying to sound grown up. “I don’t need his permission,” he announced. “You just come on and use it. He won’t say nothin’.” Then, without another word, Kelly started walking away. I picked up our things and followed, pulling Sara along by one hand. I could tell she was puzzled. She looked a little angry, too. She felt left out because she couldn’t talk.

  “Wait a minute,” I shouted, remembering what was in the clubhouse. “We forgot our blankets.”

  “Just leave ‘em there,” replied Kelly. “You may need ‘em again tonight.”

  6

  Kelly led us down a big street until we came to a giant intersection. I realized it was the place that Captain Sykes had called Six Points because the roads went off it in six different directions. Kelly’s house was about a half block west of the intersection. You could hear rumbling sounds now and then as cars and trucks passed by.

  “That big road is Grand Avenue,” he said. “It goes all the way to California. It’s busy all the time. Those big trucks don’t stop for the Sabbath.” He turned and looked at me sagely. “That’s a word for Sunday. It’s out of the Bible.”

  When we reached Kelly’s house, I saw it had a picket fence out front and a gravel driveway, but no car. The house itself was white stucco with green shutters. It boasted a small front porch with some sagging chairs on it. Next door sat a row of unpainted cabins and on the other side was a vacant lot where Kelly said the kids played ball. The last house next to the intersection was the two-story place where Kelly said some bad guys lived.

  “Why don’t you and Ace like those guys in the big house?” I asked.

  He squinched his face as he answered. “One of the guys that used to live there tried to beat me up. His name’s Lenny. He pulled me into his house one day and started kicking me. He claimed I’d thrown a rock at his car. I screamed like hell and broke free. Then Ace came over and slapped the shit out of him. Jack Wells, his older brother, got mad and said Ace had no reason to do that. But he didn’t call the cops. They don’t speak to us and we don’t speak to them. Only Lenny doesn’t live there anymore. He moved into some apartment.”

  “Well did you?”

  “What, throw the rock?”

  “Yeah.”

  Kelly raised his eyebrows and smiled. “It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it.” Then he pointed to a big tree with yellow berries on it. “Them’s china berries,” he said. “Can’t eat ‘em, but the tree is fun to climb on.” He ran over and swung from one of its branches, then jogged up on the porch and opened the front door, signaling us to follow.

&nb
sp; When we got inside, we found a small living room that was neat and clean despite threadbare furniture. The walls had flowered paper on them, making the place cheerful. I saw a radio on a scuffed table. It had a big round speaker atop a black metal box with knobs.

  “Does the radio work?” I asked.

  “Of course,” he answered. “Ace fixed it after I found it in the dump. Just needed new tubes and wires.”

  “Where’s Ace now?” I asked. I felt a little anxious about meeting his uncle.

  “I guess he’s not here,” Kelly replied, peering into the open kitchen. “He usually puts a note on the kitchen table if he leaves when I’m gone.”

  Sure enough, there was a note on the table. He picked it up and read it.

  “He took the bus to the county clinic for his medicine. He goes every month. Ace hates that place, but they don’t have no veterans’ hospital here.”

  Knowing Ace wasn’t around made me feel more at ease. After Kelly gave us some cold water from the freezer, I escorted Sara to the bathroom. I turned on the faucet in the tub, then laid out Sara’s only change of clothes from the suitcase. I motioned for her to hurry up, then closed the door. She came out in ten minutes or so wearing her old red cotton dress. She’d combed her hair and scrubbed her face. Then it was my turn to clean up. I kept puzzling over what I’d change into, since the only other outfit I had was a dress. I wasn’t eager to put it on.

  I climbed into the tub without bothering to drain it. It was pretty murky but I was used to that. I scrubbed and scrubbed, then dried myself on a big moist towel that was fraying on the sides. Then I climbed out and put my dirty clothes back on. Just as I emerged from the bathroom, I saw a man coming through the front door, carrying a sack of groceries.

  “Well, who do we have here?” he said, placing the sack on the kitchen table.