Evil Heights, Book III: Lost and Found

by Michael Swanson

  It was Carl's turn to slap his leg. “Goddamn, boy! I knew there was some reason to like you. Shit I know you ain't lyin’ neither, ‘cause it was a damn coat hanger wrapped through the u-joint. At first I thought the ugly butt-lick must've just snagged it up when he was drivin', but shit, I had to cut that mother fucker out of there with a pair of wire cutters."

  "I tried to get it in there good and tight,” Lee beamed.

  "Well shit fire. I think you earned yourself a drink with that one.” Carl held up his bottle swishing it around. “Damn, I about drank all mine. Daryl, give him a swig of yours."

  Daryl obviously didn't want to share as much as Lee didn't want to take a drink, but they were both trapped. Daryl handed over his Nehi bottle. Lee wiped the bottle on his forearm and gingerly took a sip, keeping his tongue pressed to the hole so that it would look like he was taking a respectable gulp.

  Surprisingly, it didn't taste nearly as bad as it smelled. It was almost like an oily fruit juice. But it did burn. Lee tried not to cough, but his face turned bright red, and finally he had to give in and coughed again and again until he though he'd surely choke.

  "Good shit ain't it?” Carl said approvingly. “Have yourself another."

  "Hey!” Daryl complained, snatching back the bottle. “Let him mooch off someone else."

  Lee was relieved when it appeared the others were going to be equally as stingy.

  It was Daryl who said, “I bet you don't drink nohow. You don't smoke. You don't do shit."

  For a moment a heavy silence hung in the tree house. Daryl had crossed the line; these were fighting words.

  Lee had to think it over, he had three options: Say nothing and irrevocably lose face. Invite Daryl to come down the ladder and put his fists where his mouth was. Or think of a snappy come back to put Daryl in his place.

  "Well shit fire!” Lee came back leaning on his drawl as hard as he could. “I prefer to drink me some real store bought liquor like Rum, had me a bunch last Saturday night, too. Pussy like you, you might as well just go suck some gasoline, that is if you ain't too busy beatin’ your meat all the time."

  The ball was back in Daryl's court. It was put up or shut up.

  Daryl had all eyes on him. He thought for a moment, then took a little sip from his bottle and said, “This here shit's real corn liquor, ‘bout ten time more powerful than any damn rum, huh Carl?"

  Carl didn't answer the question. It was plain from his response Daryl didn't want to fight. Instead Carl asked, “Where the hell'd you get some rum?"

  "My dad was havin’ a party. When nobody was lookin’ I filled my glass."

  "Pretty slick,” Carl came back. “Corn liquor, rum, don't make no difference. Best kind of liquor's free liquor, that's a fuckin’ fact."

  Carl drained the last of his and made a point of holding the bottle out and just letting it drop from his fingers. “Goddamn that's good shit,” he slurred. Without warning he reached over and snatched Maurice's bottle away.

  Maurice, who had only drank a few sips didn't seem to mind.

  Carl rubbed the top of the bottle on his fore arm as Lee had. He took a little sip, blew out a big breath, and then asked, “You don't mind sharin’ do ya, Maurice?"

  Maurice shook his head.

  "He don't mind,” Carl said to everybody.

  Carl took another drink, this time a long one, and finished by smacking his lips. “We'll have to go pay Porter another visit here real soon and get some more of this extra fine hooch."

  "Porter?” Lee seized on the name. “I heard about this old man, part Indian, who lives way back up the woods. His name's Porter."

  "One and the same, I'd imagine,” said Carl. “How the hell'd you hear ‘bout him?"

  "This Mexican man, Javier, he lives by the creek, he told me ‘bout him.” Lee had tried not to take too big a swig, but he was already feeling he effects of the one sip. That stuff they were drinking, did make the rum seem like iced tea.

  Carl nodded. “Yeah, I know spic, Javier. Lives in that fuckin’ ugly ass pink and green dump."

  Lee couldn't imagine how Carl could call anyone else's house a dump. At least Javier had doors and windows. Of course, he didn't say so.

  "I'd like to go back in there and meet Porter some time."

  "Ha!” Carl and Daryl both burst out laughing.

  "You may be hell with coat hangers, but I fuckin’ guarantee you'll never find your way back through them fuckin’ woods to ol’ Porter's shack,” Daryl said, like he had a mouth full of rubber. “Revenuers and Sheriff's been lookin’ for him for years. They cain't find him, how could you?"

  Carl pulled his pistol hand out and drew aim and shot at Lee. “I tell ya what. Since you fucked over Fat Larry so good, I'll take ya’ back in there with me the next time I go and do a lighten’ run. I'm leavin’ Saturday to go fuck this girl and her ugly sister over in Manseville, but I'll be back around the Fourth of July. You come on by and I'll take ya’ ‘long with me.” Carl winked and blew the imaginary smoke from the barrel of his finger pistol. “That is if yer still up to goin'."

  "Shit Carl, a gator'll probably get him,” Daryl complained. “We don't need to be draggin’ no town boy ‘long with us when we go back in there."

  "Then don't go,” was Carl's matter-of-fact reply.

  "I tell y'all what,” said Lee standing up. “I think I better be goin'."

  Carl, Daryl, and the two other boys glared at him.

  Lee thought quickly. “I need to take me a piss."

  "Take one for me while yer there,” Pink Eye slurred and causing Maurice to giggle.

  Ronnie got up, having to scoot Maurice over to get enough room to gain his feet. Pink Eye wobbled shakily but managed to pull himself up on the milk crate Lee had just vacated.

  Lee pulled open the flap, wincing at how bright the sun had suddenly become. “I'll take you up on it, Carl.” Lee started to step out on the landing. “I'll come by around the Fourth."

  "Make it the fifth or sixth,” Carl took another drink. “Bring a coat hanger. Maybe you can snag you a gator.” Carl thought this was uproariously funny.

  "Might be Dora that snags him,” Pink Eye hollered out.

  Daryl punched Pink Eye.

  "What'd I say?” he came back, rubbing his arm.

  "You just shut yer goddamned mouth ‘bout Dora,” Daryl replied. “That is if you want to be keepin’ all yer teeth."

  "Hell, she's my sister, Daryl,” Pink Eye complained.

  "I don't give a damn,” Daryl came back.

  Lee looked back in. Daryl looked pissed. Knowing how guys get when they drink corn liquor, he was pretty sure one way or the other there would be a fight happening here pretty soon. He'd actually grown to dislike Daryl quite a bit, and didn't feel he'd have any problem mopping up the floor with him even if the older kid wasn't drunk. But, right now it'd be best to just let it slide. Feeling a bit dizzy, Lee looked down the ladder. That one sip had been more than he needed. That clear stuff really did make that rum seem like Kool-aid. He hadn't felt too well on the Sunday after the party, his dad and Maggie hadn't either. They had even skipped church that morning. Lee was extra careful turning around, and then made sure each foot was set before taking the next rung. Once on the ground he kicked up his kickstand and pulled his leg over the bike.

  "You okay?” Ronnie asked.

  Lee shook his head trying to clear the cobwebs. “I guess so.” He blew out a mighty exhale and shook his head. That definitely didn't help he felt even foggier. “I think I'll take it a bit easy and walk it across the creek this time,” he said.

  CHAPTER THREE: PLAYING TAG

  Lee came riding up the drive skidding his rear tire in the gravel as he came to a stop outside the garage. Instead of locking his bike away he walked his bike through the gate into the back yard to give it a good scrubbing. By the back door was a length of garden hose and a galvanized bucket with a rag in it he kept special just for washing his bike.

  He took care, working softly with the ra
g to get into every nook and cranny, even taking the time to wash around each individual spoke. Flapjack though, seemed determined to help to the point of aggravation. As Lee knelt down to get between the chain guard and the sprocket, the persistent duck got a death grip on the washrag with its beak. Refusing to let go, he tugged at it, wobbling his head side to side, just like the dog in the Coppertone ads.

  Lee was feeling a twinge of a rising headache resulting from the snort of moonshine. “Cut it out, Flapjack,” he called out, his irritation showing through. “Let go!"

  Flapjack ignored him, staring down his beak with those beady, black eyes.

  "You better let go!” Lee warned.

  When Flapjack still refused to heed the warning he let him have it with a full blast from the hose. The result wasn't exactly as Lee had planned, as Flapjack enjoyed the water immensely. He stood there, taking it squarely in the breast, leaning back, neck extended and flapping his wings. Defeated, Lee twisted shut the nozzle and retrieved the rag. He dropped the hose and held up the rag. “Now let me do my work. Okay?"

  Having abandoned the washrag, Flapjack now fixated on the brass garden hose nozzle, nibbling at the fine mist of spray jetting from the end. Finally, picking up the whole thing, the duck managed to drag it away a few feet like some great big, green worm. Flapjack's persistence with the hose ended up completely distracting Lee. Feeling more than a little put out, he yanked back the hose and twisted open the nozzle to form a steady stream. In short order the duck was forced to retreat to the bushes, flapping and quacking. In no time at all though, Lee had almost forgotten about his bike entirely. It was proving to be way too much fun to squirt Flapjack as he ran back and forth and in and out below the hedges lining the back of the house, like a target in an arcade booth. The duck would dart under a hedge then quickly circle back out into the open flapping his wings and quacking uproariously while taking it right in the kisser. From the way Flapjack kept up the game it would have been difficult to tell who was enjoying it more, the target or the gunner.

  Finally though, Lee had to get back to work, and it was a relief once the Schwinn was scrubbed to his satisfaction. He carefully dried it with the chamois his dad used for the car, making sure to get all of the chrome and even under the seat. Satisfied at last that it looked as good as the day his dad had brought it home, he locked it away in the garage and went inside out of the sun.

  Maggie had made lunch, but the graying tuna fish sandwich on the table didn't look very appetizing. Maggie was already watching her stories, lying back on the couch in a cloud of blue smoke, with Patty playing Lincoln logs on the floor. He ate the potato chips, leaving the sandwich, then went to his room and lay down on the bed. Watching the ceiling fan whirl overhead an oily burp forced its way out. One thing was for sure, the moonshine might taste all right going down, but it tasted like rancid gasoline coming back up.

  "Lee,” Maggie called from down the hall. “What's the matter with you? Are you all right?"

  Lee sat up and looked at his alarm clock. At first glance he thought that he must have forgotten to wind it since it appeared to have stopped at 5:35 this morning. But from the light outside, he knew it had to be almost dinnertime. Groggily, he sat up and remembered that he had been alive earlier in the day. Whatever had happened in the world after he lay down, some time after noon, had happened without him.

  "Yeah, I'm okay!” he called out. “I just fell asleep for a while.” Putting his feet on the floor and rubbing his eyes he had that spacey, fuzzy feeling he always had after sleeping during the day. His mouth too, was all filmy, and the taste was something he needed to do something about as soon as possible.

  Brushing his teeth with baking soda, then a cold shower, and next a hot dinner did wonders to put him back on his feet. Even though all throughout the meal Patty whined and complained about not being able to go to the movies.

  His dad wasn't home yet, and this had Maggie nervous almost to the point of distraction. There was a constant argument running between Maggie and Patty about the movie. Patty wanted to go. Lee sat patiently, knowing to keep his mouth shut while Maggie explained over and over that this was a grown up movie and too scary for children. It did rankle him each time she resorted to using him as an excuse saying, “Patty, hon, Lee isn't even grown up enough to be allowed to go see this movie. It's too scary for kids.” In the back of his mind he thought about inviting Maggie to take a little evening stroll down Seminole road past the Ballard house tonight if she really wanted to do something that was too scary for kids.

  Further injustice was heaped upon the latter since he had to do all the dishes now that Maggie had to get ready to go out. Worst still, was that she had made fried chicken tonight, and the kitchen was a greasy disaster, coated with globs of flour from the cabinets to the floor. By the time he sat down in front of the T.V. his dad had been home for a while, eaten, changed, and was sitting on the couch watching T.V. with Patty on his lap. Any vestige of a good mood after his nap had gone down the kitchen drain with the last of the suds.

  "Maggie!” Ted called out, twisting his wrist to look at his watch. “It's almost seven. We've got to meet Ed and Laura in thirty minutes!"

  He looked over at Lee and shook his head.

  It did make Lee feel somewhat better to see that some one else was almost as put out as he was.

  A few minutes later, a click of heels coming down the hall announced that Maggie was ready.

  "How do I look?” she beamed, turning sideways to strike a debonair pose with her palms up and elbows down at her sides.

  Ted whistled a more than satisfactory wolf whistle, causing Maggie's face light up under her rouge and eyeliner.

  "You look great,” Lee complimented though he really hadn't even turned around.

  Patty didn't turn around at all, preferring to sit and pout.

  Ted scooted Patty off his lap and peeled himself out of the chair, walking over to the long mirror by the front door. He pulled his comb from his back pocket, giving his freshly oiled hair a few licks from front to back.

  "I can't believe you didn't put on a nicer shirt,” Maggie carped, pushing in to get a look in the mirror. “I'll bet you Ed'll even be wearing a tie."

  "I'm not putting on a tie just to go to a movie,” Ted replied, finally giving up and letting Maggie have the whole mirror to herself. “The next time you see me in a tie will probably be the next time we go to a funeral."

  Lee could tell right off that this trip to the movies was getting off to a normal start. They didn't go out very often, but when they did it usually started off with an argument before they even got out the door.

  Maggie turned away from the mirror. “Now you kids be good while we're gone."

  "We will,” Lee said tiredly.

  "Lee, if any of you friends come around, you're not allowed to have them in the house while we're not here."

  "What about Ronnie?” he replied, still hoping he might change his mind and come over.

  Maggie was back to primping, pushing up at the bottom of her hair. She must have used at least half a can of Aqua Net. “No, not even Ronnie. You boys always get up to something no good when there's nobody around to watch y'all."

  "Who says?” Lee came back.

  "Just about everybody,” his dad replied. “The only ones qualified to baby sit the two of you is the Sheriff's office."

  "Oh yeah, like Fat Larry could do anything about anything.” Lee tried to affect the same confrontational tone as his previous answer.

  Maggie didn't take the bait. “Don't you be going out either and leave your sister here alone."

  "Aww, Maggie!"

  "You listen to your mom,” Ted admonished.

  Lee came within a hair of saying she's not my mom, but he caught himself before committing the fatal error.

  "Can't I at least go over and see Phoebe? It's just across the street."

  Maggie was still pushing at her freshly teased ball of hair trying to coax it into resuming the right shape. Lee had barely
recognized her when he came out for dinner. She had gone to Millie's while he was napping. She'd gone with one of those French-styled bouffant hairdos. At least with such a drastic change, he hadn't forgotten to notice.

  Maggie put her hands on her hips. “What did I say?"

  "Aww, gee.” He got the tone of complaint just right, sounding like Beaver Cleaver whining to Ward and June. “What about if I see her outside? Can I take Patty with me?"

  Maggie picked up her purse from the stand by the door. She smoothed down the ruffles of her dress over her hips and tucked the pink sequined bag under her arm. Taking one last, long look she seemed somewhat satisfied. At last she looked over at Ted who was slumping in the doorframe impatiently, his dark aviator style sunglasses obscuring his thoughts along with his eyes.

  "I guess that would be O.K., don't you think so, Ted? It seems like I can't remember the last time Patty went outside."

  Patty cast her most hateful look at her mother then turned back around. She called out in her most petulant voice, “I played outside with Flapjack today."

  Ted held the door open. “Let's go if we're going."

  "Bye, pumpkin.” Maggie blew a kiss to the back of Patty's head.

  As soon as they were out the door Patty turned and stuck out her tongue and then scowled up at Lee.

  "Hey, why make faces at me, squirt? I wanted to go too."

  "I never get to go anywhere.” She crossed her arms and stared at her big brother defiantly. “You're always out riding your stupid bike, running around with Ronnie, or mooning after that girl across the street. Lee's got a girlfriend,” she sang out sharply, “Lee's got a girlfriend."

  Letting her sing, Lee got up and ambled over to the front window, looking across the street. Patty really had got to him with the bit about having a girlfriend, but he'd learned the best defense against Patty was to simply ignore her; she couldn't stand that.

  Patty kept it up, continuing to sing out, “Lee's got a girlfriend! Lee's got a girlfriend!” But after a minute of taunting, and without Lee becoming upset, there was nothing left for Patty to do but turn back to the T.V.