Evil Heights, Book I: The Midnight Flyer

by Michael Swanson

  Maggie, still wringing Lee's arm had put on her snottiest tone. “My advice to you is to mind your own business.” She held out her left hand, displaying her ring. “And let me correct you, Mrs. Busybody. I left high school to take care of this boy here. And my name's not Bonham, it's Coombs. I...” and she stressed that “I” as though it weighed a thousand pounds. “I am a married woman, with a family."

  "Well, I imagine I guess I should apologize, then, Mrs. Coombs,” Mrs. Barton had come back without even missing a heartbeat. “But allow me to correct you. That ain't exactly your boy that you're danglin’ there. He's your dead sister, Darva's boy. Same as that husband you're so proud of was your dead sister's husband. You know your mamma ain't all too happy ‘bout what's been going on under her roof. Course you know all about that, since I see you don't live off your mamma no more. I expect, being a good God-fearing Christian, Kathleen kicked you out like that there high school did, for ‘bout the same reason too, I'd imagine. Why'd you go after your sister's husband, poor Darva's not been dead but a few months. Cain't you get nuthin’ on your own? Or are you too ignorant?"

  "Ain't ain't in the dictionary, because ain't ain't a word,” Maggie recited like she'd spoken the wisdom of the ages; then she dragged Lee inside.

  After that confrontation, Lee couldn't remember Mrs. Barton and Maggie having ever spoken to each other again.

  "Maggie's fine,” Lee said, grinning slightly as he remembered Maggie's red face after her dressing down.

  Mrs. Barton turned her attention back to Sticker, but said to Lee, “You go on now. I'll keep this mongrel busy for you."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Barton,” Lee replied, as always as sincerely appreciative as he could be.

  "Now, don't you be a stranger, you hear?"

  "I won't ma'am."

  She pressed herself back against the fence and held the broom out to the side as though maybe then Sticker couldn't see it and would make the mistake of taking a step or two in. “Come on, you,” Lee heard her say. “Just you come a little bit closer and I'll give you what for."

  Lee ran around through the back yard to the other side of Mrs. Barton's house and let himself out through the back gate. Knowing better than to show his face on Arbuckle Ave., as even with Mrs. Barton's attentions Sticker would still be there, he crossed over Normand St. taking the back way between two houses. He came out behind Ronnie's house, in the high grass that marked the over grown utility corridor that ran along behind all the houses.

  Ronnie's mom was outside, hoeing in the big garden they had made of their back yard. She was intent on her work carefully cutting out the weeds between the tall, healthy stalks of flowering green beans.

  She jumped, startled when Lee emerged from tall grass, dropping her hoe and letting out with a little yelp. Putting her hands to her blouse, she said with her syrupy southern drawl, “Oh, Lee! It's you! Lord, you gave me such a start. What in God's name are you doin’ comin’ ‘round back through there?"

  "Sticker's loose,” Lee answered.

  She bent down and picked up her hoe, and then gripped it between both fists and leaned on it, letting it support her weight for a moment. “Someone's gonna have to do somethin’ ‘bout that animal always getting’ loose, before it kills a child."

  "I'm a child,” Lee offered with a grin.

  "Lee,” she said returning his grin, “I've know you since you were born,” she said, “and you've never been a child."

  There was something magical and long lost about her soft pronunciation of the word “child.” Lee loved listening to Mrs. McGiver. He'd always found himself affected by sounds and words, sometimes repeating the sounds of certain words over and over again inside his head for days. He might forget about it for a while after, but later, he'd hear the same word, and the strange feeling would come back, just as before, and he'd find the words tumbling over and over again in his mind.

  Thinking about “child,” another word jumped into his mind, “cabrrrrito,” he thought. He could think it, but try as he might, he still couldn't pronounce it like Javier. “Cabrrrrito,” he repeated in his head.

  "Is Ronnie home?” he asked, being careful to walk in the middle between the rows.

  "You just go on inside,” she said, getting back to her hoeing. “I expect you'll find him in front of the T.V.."

  Lee passed through the rest of the backyard and entered through the back screen door, making sure it closed silently. He walked stealthily through the kitchen but saw no one. There were two cereal bowls still sitting out on the kitchen table along with a knocked over box of corn flakes and an almost empty bottle of milk.

  Lee stopped at the doorway and peered down the hall cautiously, before going through the door that led in to the dining room. Still being very quiet, he crossed over to the far door that connected to the den and looked out.

  Ronnie was lying on his stomach facing the T.V.; a bowl of milky cereal residue with the spoon sticking out was in front his chin. He had his feet up behind him, and both the shoelaces of his tennis shoes were untied and dangling freely.

  Seeing he opportunity, one of Lee's ideas leapt into his head.

  Melissa, Ronnie's younger sister, still in her yellow nightie was spread across the tired overstuffed chair their dad usually used to read the paper before going to work in the mornings. She caught sight of Lee just as he began tiptoeing in through the door to the dining room.

  Lee put his index finger to his lips, pleading for Melissa to be quiet with his eyes.

  She nodded and turned back to the T.V., but kept her brother in view out of the corner of her eye. Ronnie's little brother Robbie and littlest sister Carolyn still hadn't seen Lee yet, as they were sitting on the sofa, their attention fixed on the T.V..

  Melissa couldn't suppress a smile, as she tried to sit still and act naturally. Lee was always up to something.

  Ever so stealthily, hardly daring to breath, Lee bent down and began to crawl forward on his elbows and knees. Once close enough, he gently gathered up the hanging shoelaces and tied them together into a firm knot, as quietly and carefully as he could.

  Melissa was by now having great difficulty suppressing her smile, but Ronnie didn't notice. He was too intent on the T.V.. They were watching “The Thunderbirds,” a Saturday morning science fiction series, which used puppets instead of actors or cartoons. It was really a cheap production, like most everything that came from Japan. The fake looking space ships always bobbed about with smoke flowing up from their tails, even while they were supposed to be in outer space, and Lee always hated how they never even tried to hide the strings.

  His trap set, Lee backed out, still on his elbows and knees. When he got up, again he had to touch his finger to his lips and plead with his eyes for Melissa to be silent and not blow it.

  She gave him a little nod and a conspiratorial smile, which luckily, Ronnie didn't notice.

  Lee softly retraced his steps back through the house, and going out the kitchen door he was careful to not let it slam. Mrs. McGiver stopped her hoeing and watched while Lee slunk around the side of the house. She grinned patiently and shook her head, knowing something was up.

  He stepped up onto the porch, still trying to be as quiet as possible, and being extra cautious to avoid any loose or squeaky boards; he made his way up to the screen door.

  Banging on the doorframe he hollered, “Hey, Fatso!” so loudly, even Melissa, who had been expecting something, jumped. All four of the kids in the room were staring at him, shocked for a moment when he put his hands to the side of his head, waggled his hands like flopping elephant ears, and blew a tremendous raspberry. “Hey, is that Fat Larry on the floor?” He laughed having trouble containing himself. “How come y'all got Fat Larry watching’ T.V. with y'all?"

  Ronnie had upset the bowl of milk when he started after Lee's first yell. The bowl was on its side and the spoon was lying in the spreading puddle of milk. Even angrier with the mess, than surprised by suddenly being called Fat Larry, Ronnie pulled his legs up u
nder himself in one quick move, and jumped up to give chase.

  Lee heard the crash and thud from the spot where he had stopped on the porch stairs. Immediately he was back to the screen door, opening it and stepping in to enjoy the carnage.

  Ronnie had launched himself forward, but found no feet available to get under him for his next step. He had clung to the back of the overstuffed chair high up, his force, trying to save himself, carrying it over and back, with Ronnie falling upside down, his hobbled feet up against the wall. Melissa, who had been in the chair had done a backwards somersault and was on her back on the floor, trying to pull her nightie back down from up around her chest.

  Everyone was laughing, except for Ronnie and Melissa.

  Ronnie was on his back, scowling, and looking up at his shoes. Melissa, red-faced, had thrashed herself around frantically and finally managed to get herself somewhat recovered.

  Lee enjoyed the scene a moment more, but knowing when to quit was an important part of playing the game.

  "I got ya',” he said, coming in and extending his hand down to Ronnie. Tactfully, he ignored Melissa who was obviously not happy with how the joke had come out.

  Ronnie slapped the offered hand away, doing his best to look angry. “Pay backs are hell, you know that don't you?"

  "I saw London, I saw France...” Ronnie's little brother, Robbie sang out, sounding just like Patty had when she had chased Lee down the hall the other day. They had both been in the same kindergarten class last year, and obviously had learned the same things.

  "Shut up!” hollered back Melissa, now up on her feet and with her nightie restored. She stepped over and stuck her finger in front of her little brother's nose and then rolled it up into a fist. “You! You had better just shut up, you hear!"

  Robbie pursed his lips, showing he still thought it was funny, but he did shut up.

  Now she glared down at Ronnie, who was working at his knotted laces. “It's all your fault!"

  "What'd I do?"

  "You pitched me over, you clod.” From her neck up she had grown scarlet. “Lee saw my..."

  Ronnie looked up at her from his place sitting on the floor as he tied his shoes. “That's what you get for not tellin’ me,” he growled at his sister. “Ain't nobody wants to see your old underpants anyway."

  Lee knew better than to say a thing.

  "I'm tellin’ mom,” she hollered back finally, and ran out of the room.

  Lee and Ronnie ran after her and crowded together near the back door to listen.

  "Mom, Ronnie knocked over my chair, and Lee saw my ... my..."

  "Saw your what?” came back the tired reply.

  "You know, I was in my nightie!"

  There was a long pause.

  "Don't you think you're becoming too much of a grown up young lady to be lying around in your night clothes when company is here?” Ronnie's mom responded sternly.

  "Lee's not company!” Melissa fired back.

  "You're not a little girl anymore, either,” her mom replied. “Now why don't you go get dressed and come out here and help me? I could use some help with the weeding."

  "What about Ronnie?” she appealed. “Why's it always me, me, me?"

  "He helped yesterday.” There was no mistaking the change in Ronnie's mom's tone. “Now you do as your told, young lady."

  Before Melissa could stalk back inside Ronnie and Lee knew to take off. A few minutes later both boys were walking south down Valentino, Ronnie swinging a stick he'd just picked up from his lawn.

  "Come on Ronnie,” Lee said, walking backwards while facing his friend. “You got to admit it, I really got ya'.” Lee ran a few steps and tumbled down on the grass doing a somersault, and then lay flat for a moment. “You should have seen yourself fly."

  "I should beat you with this stick,” Ronnie countered.

  Lee jumped up and ran back over, but kept a few paces between himself and Ronnie. He walked backward, facing his friend. “Melissa was pissed,” he grinned.

  Ronnie laughed, in spite of it undermining his attempt at staying mad. “That's ‘cause you saw her underpants. I don't think she minded getting knocked over so much, at first she was laughing. But she'll about die now that you've seen her panties."

  "They had little flowers on ‘em,” Lee grinned.

  "Why don't you tell her that the next time you see her,” Ronnie suggested. “She'll kick your butt."

  Everyone knew that Melissa had a terrible crush on Lee, though she would have never admitted it. To Lee though, she was just his best friend's little sister. When they were really little it was kind of cute and funny, how she always tagged along after him with her big doe eyes. But now that they were getting a bit older, and Lee was fourteen and she was almost twelve, Lee had to admit that the situation was changing. Neither one of them were really little kids anymore. Melissa was growing up. The nightie had almost fallen down to her chest; no wonder she had been so red-faced.

  Ronnie was having difficulty sustaining his mad act, and had to be satisfied with occasionally taking half-hearted arcing swings at Lee, who artfully dodged, as he kept walking and backing away.

  "So what've you been doing while I've been digging my way to China?” Lee asked, finally, falling back into step beside his friend.

  "I've been hangin’ out with Art, and those guys."

  "That bored already? What will you sink to without me?” Lee grinned and seized the opportunity to grab the stick away and fling away. It flew up high and stuck in the branches of an elm and didn't come down. Ronnie, in response took off after Lee who led the way easily, dodging and keeping out of reach, making Ronnie look slow. Hollering and laughing the whole way Ronnie chased valiantly if unsuccessfully after Lee, until winded, he finally had to give up.

  Pickford Acres, like every rambling neighborhood with lots and lots of kids, had groups and sub groups of friends who played or fought with each other, depending upon the current pecking order. There were usually pairs of best friends who kept together, like Lee and Ronnie. Sometimes there were close groups of three or four, but these usually revolved around a bully and his toadies. The lowest members of kid society were the new comers and the loners. They had no regular friends, and until they could find some way to fit in, they were always at the mercy of the bullies.

  "So where do you want to go?” asked Ronnie puffing and red.

  "Your shoelace is untied,” Lee pointed out.

  Ronnie bent down, retied it, and then stayed on one knee for a moment longer catching his breath. When he got up, he pulled his shirt back down and said, “I don't know. What do you want to do?"

  This went on for quite while, going back and forth.

  Finally Ronnie said, “Hey, I'm thirsty. How about we go get a Coke?"

  "The store's that way,” Lee pointed.

  "Art's is closer,” Ronnie grinned.

  "Free's good,” Lee came back.

  Art Wren was a woefully skinny kid, who had big ears, which stuck out from the sides of his head like a Disney character. He was different from most of the other boys, who sported crew cuts, or “Burrs,” as the boys liked to call the popular, ultra short haircuts. Art's mother made him wear his thin, black hair, long and parted down the middle. Kids who didn't like him, called him either “Mouse Ears,” or “Girlie Boy.” Lee had always preferred Mouse Ears; since after all, he liked girls.

  Art's mother was a divorcee, and she owned the most popular dress shop in town. Most of her best customers were the women and their daughters from the affluent neighborhood, north of Highway 57, called “The Groves.” This was the neighborhood where his dad's friend, Uncle Ed lived. The cheapest house in the whole subdivision was at least fifty thousand dollars. And a visitor would be hard pressed to find a car out in a driveway which was more than two years old.

  Art, though bizarre and hen pecked by his overprotective mother, had a few advantages that saved him from being a loner. Being an only child, his well-to-do mother lavished him with almost anything he wanted. He
had a bowl on the dining room table which was always filled with candy bars, and the ‘fridge was always packed with sodas. His mother's property included the best open field around, perfect for playing baseball and football. In addition, Art could always be counted on to bribe the guys he liked with snacks after a game. And even better than the freebies, Art claimed he had recently managed to secret a peephole between the back room of his mother's store and one of the ladies’ dressing rooms. To be invited by Art to come along, if he was helping his mom on a Saturday, could well turn out to be the highlight of a lucky boy's year.

  Art's mom was becoming impressed by the amount of different friends her son suddenly had, and who were always willing to help him out at the store. She was probably convinced all the money she spent on candy and sodas was well worth it.

  "Art's it is,” Lee came back. “What y'all been doin’ anyway?” Lee asked with a sly tone.

  "We've been playin’ baseball,” Ronnie answered, offended. “Us against Jeff and the jerks from over on Crabbe St.."

  "Yeah, who won?” Lee wanted to know, as these things were important.

  "They won Monday and Thursday. We won Tuesday and Wednesday."

  Lee looked at Ronnie questioningly.

  "Since you weren't there,” Ronnie explained grudgingly, “We had to let Art play on our side."

  "Oh,” said Lee, shaking his head, “That bad, huh?"

  The best way for any boy to gauge his current standing in the Pickford Acres pecking order, other than who he had just beaten up, or been beaten up by, was by the order he were picked when sides were chosen up.

  Lee didn't ever worry about his place, as he was the captain of the group of boys who lived around Arbuckle Ave.. If he wasn't there, Ronnie took his place picking the other kids for the team. Art, being slow, whiney, and weak, was always among the last ones chosen.

  "What about Friday?” Lee asked. “Y'all had to have had the deciding game Friday?"