Kings Of The Earth Part 17

Problem was it got so Creed weren't pulling his weight. He done ch.o.r.es but he done them his own way and some of them wasn't even ch.o.r.es needed doing. He done his wash two three times a week when my mother wouldn't do it for him. Extra wash I mean. Just his army uniform. I thought if he'd do some of the wash he ought to do the rest of it but he didn't think like that so every Sat.u.r.day morning my mother still did it and he weren't no help to her. Donna come over from school sometimes to help but not always. Then when he was doing his wash he was too busy to do nothing else. And even when he kept up with his ch.o.r.es he did them kind of light. Like he give up sweating. It got almost like he was right back in Korea except he needed feeding and he weren't sending home no pay.

Preston.

THERE WASN'T ANY QUESTION what Creed was up to. He was going courting. what Creed was up to. He was going courting. He'd set his cap for somebody He'd set his cap for somebody, is how they used to say it. Along about suppertime I'd seen him start down the road with that old three-legged mutt they had back then trailing behind him until its legs gave out. I mentioned it to Margaret and her eyes lit up and she clapped her hand over her mouth and fessed up about the uniform. Like it had been a secret between her and Creed and now it was out. I asked her if he'd said anything about a girl when he'd come about his khakis and she said no, but the both of us put two and two together.

A young fellow that age it was to be expected.

Then again this wasn't just any young fellow. It was Creed Proctor. I don't remember he'd been lucky with a girl ever. Of course I can't speak for what might have happened over in Korea or even up to Camp Drum. A lot of things can happen to a young fellow in the service. Things he might not be in a hurry to bring home. Not all of them will have to do with what you're required to do regarding the enemy, either. Some of them you come up with yourself, or among the other fellows. Out there in the world.

Anyhow the Proctor boys had always been shy around girls as far as I knew. Not that they were the kind of men that girls would have gone seeking out. Far from it. But then again there's all kinds of girls. A fellow I know in the car business will tell you there's an a.s.s for every seat.

Look how Ruth married Lester. You never know who'll come along or what'll happen or why.

So even though I thought it was comical that he'd get his sights set on some little gal, Margaret thought it was sweet.

Ruth.

THE AFTERNOON IS FIERCELY HOT and wickedly close and a couple of mile-high thunderheads hang in the sky like anvils. Vernon is bent over inside the henhouse wielding a short-handled shovel, sc.r.a.ping the worst of the chicken manure into piles by the door and pus.h.i.+ng lumpy hailstorms of it out into the yard, much to the irritation of the chickens. They squawk and storm around as if the flying manure is a surprise every single time, as if they have no idea where it came from in the first place. Audie is up at the edge of the high pasture underneath the Farmall tractor, uns.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the plug to let the old oil drain out into a swale that runs along the fence line. He has half a case of fresh oil on the wagon behind it because he can never remember how much it takes and he wants to make sure he has enough. Creed has lifted the hatch to the pumphouse and let himself down into its coolness to tap at joints and knock on valves and pretend to himself that he is forestalling future problems. and wickedly close and a couple of mile-high thunderheads hang in the sky like anvils. Vernon is bent over inside the henhouse wielding a short-handled shovel, sc.r.a.ping the worst of the chicken manure into piles by the door and pus.h.i.+ng lumpy hailstorms of it out into the yard, much to the irritation of the chickens. They squawk and storm around as if the flying manure is a surprise every single time, as if they have no idea where it came from in the first place. Audie is up at the edge of the high pasture underneath the Farmall tractor, uns.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the plug to let the old oil drain out into a swale that runs along the fence line. He has half a case of fresh oil on the wagon behind it because he can never remember how much it takes and he wants to make sure he has enough. Creed has lifted the hatch to the pumphouse and let himself down into its coolness to tap at joints and knock on valves and pretend to himself that he is forestalling future problems. Preventative maintenance Preventative maintenance, they called it in the motor pool. Pipes clang and rust rains down. He may as well be banging on the works of a nuclear generator or a rocket s.h.i.+p for all he grasps of it and all the good it does, but the temperature is comfortable down there below the ground and the day is hastening on and he doesn't want to begin anything too demanding. He is thinking of the girl at the Dineraunt.

He climbs out and lowers the hatch behind him and brushes cobwebs and red rust from the front of his overalls, then he bends and claps the same mess out of his pant legs as best he can. More or less satisfied, he stretches up straight and gets a look at the sky and judges that by the appearance of things there are worse places to be right now than underground. With those storm clouds. He goes and stands in the shadow of the barn and hollers Vernon's name toward the henhouse and Vernon sticks his head out the door.

"You go on up there get Audie and bring him back," Creed says.

"If you want him brung back you go."

"Storm's coming," says Creed.

"I know that," says Vernon.

"Go bring him back."

"You want him brung back you do it. I'm busy." Pulling his head back inside the henhouse. Mr. Punch on a traveling stage.

Creed raises his voice further. "He'll get hit while you fool around with them chickens and then what."

"He'll come if he wants to."

"He won't come. He'll hide under them trees and them trees'll get hit and then what."

Chicken manure flies from the door of the henhouse. "Far as I remember the old man never run home on account of a little rain."

"The old man never learned what I learned in the army. He never had my army training."

"I guess he didn't, but he done all right." Then, sticking his head back out and playing his trump, "You didn't know him like I did. You was always too little."

The storm does not come but Audie does, rattling down from the high pasture aboard the Farmall, grinning as if he's just taken the whole thing to pieces and put it back together again, blindfolded. Creed watches him come, imagining a spiny finger of lightning leaping from one of those great distant piles of cloud to the very crown of his brother's head, seeing the impact and the power of it illuminating him all blue and yellow before burning him to a cinder, thinking that the whole tragedy will be Vernon's fault if it happens. But it doesn't happen, and Audie draws the tractor up alongside the barn and switches off the engine and climbs down from the iron seat. He disconnects the wagon and puts the leftover oil cans in the barn and throws the empties into the trash. Then he says something that Creed does not quite catch and goes around to the front of the house to sit on the porch and carve on a piece of wood for a while. It is half an hour at least until milking time and if Creed is going to take a rest then maybe he will take a rest too. Their mother comes out and sits beside him, watching something emerge from the wood and watching the storm come on. Marveling at both of them.

1990.

Del.

I BACKED OFF BACKED OFF and came around slowly to the important questions. It wasn't because I wanted to sneak up on Audie or trick him into saying something he hadn't fully thought out, but because the process was clearly so painful for him. There was no stealth on my part. My aim was strictly to acclimate him to the process of being interviewed. At a handful of points I thought again that it might be just as well to jump into the deep end in order to get it over with and minimize his distress, but then he'd settle back down and I'd decide that going slow and steady was best after all. I may have been wrong, but you play these things as wisely as you can at the time and then you try not to look back and second-guess yourself. Although I still do. I always do. Second-guess myself, I mean. and came around slowly to the important questions. It wasn't because I wanted to sneak up on Audie or trick him into saying something he hadn't fully thought out, but because the process was clearly so painful for him. There was no stealth on my part. My aim was strictly to acclimate him to the process of being interviewed. At a handful of points I thought again that it might be just as well to jump into the deep end in order to get it over with and minimize his distress, but then he'd settle back down and I'd decide that going slow and steady was best after all. I may have been wrong, but you play these things as wisely as you can at the time and then you try not to look back and second-guess yourself. Although I still do. I always do. Second-guess myself, I mean.

Preston.

HAVING THE LAWYER THERE was my idea so I was the one who had to suffer for it. First he made us wait on him the better part of the morning, and then when he finally made his appearance he bl.u.s.tered around like a little banty rooster. As if it was all his show to begin with. When he finally settled down and we got going he didn't do anything I wouldn't have done on my own, except for just being a lawyer, which I guess counts for something. I don't know why. was my idea so I was the one who had to suffer for it. First he made us wait on him the better part of the morning, and then when he finally made his appearance he bl.u.s.tered around like a little banty rooster. As if it was all his show to begin with. When he finally settled down and we got going he didn't do anything I wouldn't have done on my own, except for just being a lawyer, which I guess counts for something. I don't know why.

We had to do a lot of whispering back and forth. Audie got nervous right off and I didn't think he'd stay with it for long, but Graham backed off a little on the deathbed stuff and I said how what we were doing was just like on one of those crime shows they always watched on television. He brightened up like we were putting on a show. Or like the people on those programs weren't playacting but doing it for real and now here we were doing it just the same way they did. He'd whisper something to me and then he'd bend forward and watch me whisper it on to Chapman, all smiles. Then the lawyer would nod and tell me to go ahead and I'd say out loud what Audie had told me and he'd sit there listening to it and nodding up and down just as satisfied as a person could possibly be. He even began to drink a little of his coffee, but it had to be cold by then, so Graham buzzed somebody on the intercom and they brought in a fresh pot of it on a hot plate. Audie's eyes lit right up to see it come. He doesn't see too well but he could see well enough to make that out. You would have thought he was getting room service at the Ritz.

The problem was that it all went on for too long. Graham has a roundabout way of getting at things. He's a very methodical person, and that's all right. He has to be. He has a job to do like the rest of us. I believe he wanted to take it kind of easy on Audie, but as a result he ended up going all the way back to the Civil War. He got Audie talking about how it'd been growing up right behind Vernon, and then how Creed came along next and then Donna. The things they did as children and young people and so forth. I remembered an awful lot of those things myself, since very little of what went on in that family went on inside the house. They weren't much of an indoor bunch then and they still aren't.

One of the things Graham asked about was killing. I mean as a general thing. Mercy killing and slaughtering livestock and what have you. It's part of living on a farm and he had to know that. Audie answered his questions all right, though, pa.s.sing on what he remembered and staying pretty calm, and I spoke his answers out again just the way he said them. Stories of his various experiences. The lawyer Chapman got impatient after a while. He asked were they here for a questioning or for an installment of This Is Your Life This Is Your Life, which was a program I remembered but I didn't think he was old enough to. He threw down some papers on the table and pushed his chair back like he meant to leave even though there was no way he would've dared do that. It was all just for show. But when Chapman got agitated Audie got agitated right along with him. Jumpy. I blame it on Chapman more than I do Graham. Audie was doing well enough right up until then and he might very well have kept it up if that d.a.m.ned lawyer hadn't flown off the handle and got him started.

Graham did as the lawyer wanted, and got right down to bra.s.s tacks. He asked Audie if he knew what it meant to die from suffocation. Audie c.o.c.ked his head like he didn't understand the question and Graham said like strangling. Like strangling a man. Audie said he knew about that and Chapman let him say it. That is, he let me say it for him. Audie went on to say he'd seen that kind of thing on crime shows on television and Chapman let me say that for him too. Audie was shaking pretty badly. He was starting to draw his neck in the way he does and he kept looking down at the table. Graham went on because he had to. He asked Audie if he'd heard about how that was the way his brother died. Being strangled. The lawyer hit the table with his fist and objected to that and Audie jumped like he'd been hit by lightning and Graham tried a different way. He asked Audie if he'd heard that his brother'd pa.s.sed on from suffocation and Audie said yes he'd heard about it and the lawyer let him say that too. Graham nodded. Then he said he wanted to clarify if Audie had only heard about it, or if maybe he knew something about the subject firsthand. You can bet the lawyer raised an almighty objection to that, but Audie didn't know he was objecting because he'd kind of shut him off by then and he wasn't paying much attention to him. Only to Graham and me. Like we were two fellows with a couple of life preservers and he was drowning. He answered the question and I guess it was a good thing I was there to do his talking for him because I bent over to repeat what he'd said more or less to Chapman and Chapman said don't you dare say it. Just flat out like that. Don't you dare say it Don't you dare say it. Even to him. He said it didn't matter what the answer was since it wasn't a fair question. He cited some fancy legal reason, I don't know what. I can't say if it was a good reason or a made-up one, but either way Graham accepted it and shrugged his shoulders and moved on. That other trooper, Burnes, was writing away like mad, doing his best to get it all down. I don't know how he could have kept it straight.

About then Audie gave up and just put his head on the table. Leaned over with his hands in his lap and laid his head on the table with his eyes shut. Graham asked could he please sit up and he didn't answer. His head was kind of drumming on the table and the coffee in his cup shook in circles. I picked it up and moved it away to keep it from spilling over. Chapman said all right, that's enough, and it was. It was enough.

Donna.

WHEN THEY BROUGHT her brother in, she was waiting under the portico where the ambulances pull up. Emergency had called the third-floor nurses' station and she'd dropped everything and come right down, skipping the balky elevator at that end of the building and taking the stairs two at a time and tearing down the hall and reaching the portico before he did. The troopers hadn't called an ambulance. Del Graham just drove him straight over from the barracks in his patrol car, like a member of the family using his own vehicle. It was only a mile or two. Audie sat in the back with Preston. Actually he lay on his side with his head on Preston's lap. His teeth were chattering as if he were freezing to death in that bright, hot patrol car and he was saying something over and over again that n.o.body could make out. Not even Preston. Chapman had returned to his office to see about other things. her brother in, she was waiting under the portico where the ambulances pull up. Emergency had called the third-floor nurses' station and she'd dropped everything and come right down, skipping the balky elevator at that end of the building and taking the stairs two at a time and tearing down the hall and reaching the portico before he did. The troopers hadn't called an ambulance. Del Graham just drove him straight over from the barracks in his patrol car, like a member of the family using his own vehicle. It was only a mile or two. Audie sat in the back with Preston. Actually he lay on his side with his head on Preston's lap. His teeth were chattering as if he were freezing to death in that bright, hot patrol car and he was saying something over and over again that n.o.body could make out. Not even Preston. Chapman had returned to his office to see about other things.

They didn't admit him overnight, but they may as well have for as long as it took. Preston went with Graham to get his car and came back. He sat in the waiting room reading a Syracuse paper that was more than a week old and a Hollywood gossip magazine that was a lot older than that, wondering with every page he turned how many kinds of contagion he might be picking up on his hands. He didn't recognize a single soul in the gossip magazine and it made him feel old and out of touch. All those celebrities were just regular people to him. After he was finished he stood up and went over to check out the vending machines. It was going on one o'clock and he hadn't had any lunch yet and he didn't feel like finding the cafeteria because who knew when they'd be done with Audie. A package of Cheez Doodles caught his eye but before he put in any money he remembered the time he'd spent with the newspaper and the magazine and he went to the men's room to wash his hands. He came back and got the Cheez Doodles and ate them, then folded up the package and tucked it into his s.h.i.+rt pocket rather than get up. He paged through a cooking magazine and used it to brush orange cheese dust from his trousers and he saw there on his lap the greasy imprint of Audie's old head from the ride over. He sighed.

When Donna came out from the back and found him in the waiting room, half asleep with the cooking magazine in his fist and a little trace of orange powder staining his lower lip, she ran over with a panicky look that said, Not twice in one day Not twice in one day.

"Hey," he said, rousing himself. "How's Audie?"

She said never mind Audie, Audie was going to be all right, how was he?

"I'm fine, fine. I rode your brother down to the barracks, and I thought I'd ride him home when he's ready."

"I didn't know. I thought you'd-"

"I didn't think he ought to go in the patrol car."

"Right. That was kind of you."

"I guess. It didn't do him much good."

"We do what we can," she said. "Those brothers of mine."

Preston blinked and put down the magazine and rubbed at a little orange stain he'd found on his s.h.i.+rt front, making it worse.

"They're putting him on a sedative," she said. "He's going to be fine, but it'll be a while."

"Because-"

"Because it always is. Everything takes forever. You know hospitals."

"I know this one pretty good. I've read everything there is to look at around here except the VD flyers. I had enough of them in the army."

Donna smiled and stood there for a minute, and then she sat down in the chair next to Preston's. She leaned in close and lowered her voice. "Tell me," she said. "What did they ask him?"

"Nothing special. Background stuff. The usual, I guess."

She slumped forward a little with her hands folded on her lap, shaking her head. "It doesn't take much, does it?"

"No," said Preston. "It doesn't take much."

Audie.

I WOKE UP WOKE UP in the bed and all the lights were on and Donna was in the chair. I don't think those lights ever do go off. Donna wasn't there to be a nurse, so a different nurse came in and sat me up by pus.h.i.+ng on a b.u.t.ton and the bed moved. Donna smiled to see me come up. She said they were going to let me go home and I asked how long they'd had me to start with and she said not too long. The doctor came in to sign papers. He asked me how I felt and I said I'd feel better once I got out of the hospital and Donna said something to him and he laughed like he didn't really mean it. They had me in a dress made out of blue paper and it made a noise when he touched it. He asked me if I'd mind him taking a look at my backside before he let me go. I said I didn't have any trouble with my backside that I knew of but go on ahead and Donna said go on ahead and he sat me up straight and pulled at the paper dress. He said oh my he'd never seen anything like that in all his years. That rooster tattoo I got way back. He said had I ever got any medical care for that and I said I never got any medical care for anything until this very day. This was the first time and everybody must have done a pretty good job because I felt all right. He stood there clucking at it until he let me go and I got my clothes on and Donna brought me home. I was glad to be out of that dress. It was late and Creed had the milking done and I felt bad about that but he said it was all right. I didn't need to worry. That was what he said. in the bed and all the lights were on and Donna was in the chair. I don't think those lights ever do go off. Donna wasn't there to be a nurse, so a different nurse came in and sat me up by pus.h.i.+ng on a b.u.t.ton and the bed moved. Donna smiled to see me come up. She said they were going to let me go home and I asked how long they'd had me to start with and she said not too long. The doctor came in to sign papers. He asked me how I felt and I said I'd feel better once I got out of the hospital and Donna said something to him and he laughed like he didn't really mean it. They had me in a dress made out of blue paper and it made a noise when he touched it. He asked me if I'd mind him taking a look at my backside before he let me go. I said I didn't have any trouble with my backside that I knew of but go on ahead and Donna said go on ahead and he sat me up straight and pulled at the paper dress. He said oh my he'd never seen anything like that in all his years. That rooster tattoo I got way back. He said had I ever got any medical care for that and I said I never got any medical care for anything until this very day. This was the first time and everybody must have done a pretty good job because I felt all right. He stood there clucking at it until he let me go and I got my clothes on and Donna brought me home. I was glad to be out of that dress. It was late and Creed had the milking done and I felt bad about that but he said it was all right. I didn't need to worry. That was what he said.

1989.

Tom.

"HENRI GIVE ME A CALL yesterday," Nick said. yesterday," Nick said.

Tom put down his beer and reached over for some Chex Mix. He got a handful and picked through it to filter out the tasteless bagel bits and those hard little dried peas with the horseradish powder that they put in there to make you thirsty. He didn't say anything.

Nick went on. "He told me all about the new setup. He had an idea I might not know about it and he was right."

"What new setup?" Crunching the Chex Mix.

"You know."

"Maybe I don't know."

"The deal he cut with you and your old man. Him selling our stuff up there. Us buying more of his stuff for down here."

"Oh," said Tom, going for some more Chex Mix. "That "That setup." setup."

"How come I had to hear about it from Henri?"

"I was getting around to telling you."

"When?"

"When I figured out how to do it so you wouldn't feel stupid for not thinking of it yourself."

"I don't feel stupid. I feel got around."

"I'm sorry."

Nick waved for the bartender's attention and tapped on the side of his gla.s.s for a refill. "I told you we go way back. Me and Henri."

"I know that. I remember."

"You can't keep secrets from old Nick."

"I know. That's why I was going to tell you any minute now."

"Especially if the secret means more work for me."

"More work, more money. I don't see the problem." Picking through the Chex Mix.

"It ain't balanced. It ain't fair like it used to be. You got a cigarette?"

Tom gave him one and lit him a match. "Sure it's balanced. Everybody gets paid for what he does."

"I already don't get paid as much as you. And now I bet I'm gonna get less."

"You don't grow the stuff, and you don't process it, and you don't cut the big deals with the Canuck."

"I used to. With Henri, I mean."

"Things change."

"Now look," said Nick. He pointed at the bowl, which by now held pretty much nothing but wasabi peas and bagel bits and dust. "That right there is exactly what I'm talking about."

"What."

"That's the kind of person you are."

"I don't-"

"The kind of person only thinks of himself. No concern for the next guy."

"Oh come off it."