Читать книгу Core - Kassten Alonso - Страница 10

17

FOR OVER AN HOUR HE HID AND WATCHED FROM THE TREES. When he was sure, he came out in the moonlight. He went twice round the church, like he was on just a midnight stroll. Between two rose bushes, in the shadows, in the bark dust he sat. He stopped his breath to listen. There was nobody, just him. Him who alone doeth great wonders.

Between the two roses he leaned back on his arms. He clamped his teeth and kicked the basement window with the flats of his sneakers. He raised up his knees and kicked harder. The catch broke easy. The window rattled open and fell to again. A dog barked at him in the dark. A pick up raced its engine. The moon looked like a big old onion and he wiped his mouth of sweat.

He sat still a minute but there was nothing else. He rolled over on his stomach. Bark dust poked him through his tee shirt. He pushed himself backward so his legs fell into the basement. He slid his chest and shoulders and head through the window and his sneakers clapped on the floor. His gut burned some from the sill. He opened the window again and bark dust spilled like dead dried bugs as he reached for the can of gasoline.

He said, Everyone shall be salted with fire.

The moon shined down through the basement window. The can he set at his feet. He pulled the penlight from his back pocket. He gave the lens a twist. The light blinked a couple times before it showed the empty fruit crates and cartons of clothes. There were stacks of prayer books and hymnals, stacked chairs and parlor furnishings, even four or five pews.

He wiped his wrist across his forehead. His tee-shirt stuck to his back. His throat was all dry and hoarse like he’d been yelling a long time. He shined the light down on the gas can. Burs were fastened to his tee shirt and his jeans and there were splinters of bark dust, too. Everything would burn to the ground.

How when him and Linn were just kids and Linn had all kinds of tricks with fire. How Linn would be all smiles as he closed his mouth round a lit match. All the kids going oh and aw when he opened his mouth, the match smoky and Linn laughing with his breath full of sulfur. How one time he stole a box of matches and hid down in the junked cars and tried Linny’s trick and hollered and ran with his hands clapped to his mouth.

How Linn could smoke from the lit end of a cigarette, Linn smiling and smoking and the butt stuck out and twitching some between his teeth. All Linn’s pals thinking he was so special. Sure, Linny had lots of tricks. But they were just tricks, kid stuff, not even real magic. Unto him lay the power to scorch men with fire.

He bent to fetch the can of gas. The penlight he stuck in his mouth. The can he shook in both hands and the gasoline sloshed around. It was like the gas was laughing inside the can, tickled by getting shook up, waiting its turn. He unscrewed the cap and dropped it on the floor. He moved toward a stack of cartons. With one hand on the handle and the other on the bottom he tipped the can forward. The can gulped like it was drinking, only the can wasn’t drinking. It splashed gas out on the cartons and furniture and books. Gas splashed the garden tools hung on the walls and splashed across the floor. He took care not to get any on him.

He went from one corner of the basement to the next. Sweat made his scalp itch. The penlight was making his jaw ache the way he bit it between his teeth. The smell of gas got him all dizzy and he couldn’t stop himself thinking of Cam’s eyes. The way Cam’s eyes were so pale they looked white. It was like Cam had eyes that gave him secret powers. Cam could see in the dark and could see through walls and girls’ skirts and panties and into tomorrow. He tried to blank his mind out sometimes, when Cam looked at him. When Cam ran a hand through that blond lick of hair and looked at him with those milky blue spooky eyes. When Cam looked at him like he was trying to see inside his head.

The thoughts of the wicked are an abomination to the Lord, he said.

He stood under the broke open window. The empty can he set on the floor. He dug in his pocket for the matchbox all crushed and damp with his sweat. He hoped it wasn’t too wet. He pushed the end of the box and out the little drawer slid. He pinched a matchstick and squeezed the box closed between his thumb and finger and the moon just sat up there with its eye on him.

Things didn’t have to be like this. He’d tried other ways. Down the slope he’d crawl to the junked cars. Off with his shirt and jeans and shorts and he’d lie on the front seat and roll back and forth on the blue bits of busted windshield. It helped, but not enough. Neither did it help to cut his stomach with a razor blade. He’d ask forgiveness and please don’t cast me to hell it ain’t my fault innumerable evils have compassed me about and he’d make the cuts on his skin. But when Grandma started asking why the bloodstains on his laundry and then at the beaver pond he took off his tee shirt and Cam pointed and swore, and even Roxy crouched above him in her red print dress, he knew he had to find another way. A secret way, a way that would make everybody pay. Because everybody was a hypocrite and an evil doer and every mouth spoketh folly. But mostly God.

He scratched the matchstick on the striker. There was a snap and the flame. The gas was all wet and glittery in the beam of the penlight. For wickedness burneth as the fire. It shall devour the briars and the thorns, and shall kindle in the thickets of the forests. It is a fretting leprosy. Thou shall burn it with fire.

When it had burnt itself halfway, he dropped the match to the floor.

SO, WHY’D YOU DO IT? HE SAID. WHY’D YOU GO AND DISAPPEAR like that?

He sat on the sandy ledge of the beaver pond, in a spot where the sedges and the cattails had got torn out. His feet hanged over the water. The sun was hot and caught his eyes with fire.

Cam said, I didn’t disappear.

Cam stood with his back to him. Cam stood at the diving end of the diving plank. I told you I was off camping with my old man. Spur of the moment type shit didn’t have time to alert the mayor whoop dee do. Cam rode up and down on his toes so the plank bounced Cam a little. Ain’t like I was hoping to get my face on a milk carton or nothing, Cam said.

Yeah, but you didn’t tell nobody where you got off to, he said. We was all worried about you. And your mom. Gosh Cam. Your mom was in a real bad way.

Cam began to jump up and down on the plank. Cam pumped his elbows to the sides and the plank yawned under him and Cam sprang in the air with his arms up like he was going to fly away. Cam tucked his knees and somersaulted and kicked out the tuck and cut the water with his smooth brown arms. There was a slap and a spit flew, then only ripples. Cam did not come up.

He took a deep breath and held it. Water dripped some, back of his neck. Across the pond the leaves of the ash trees shook and flickers called from the branches. Cam did not come up.

The bluff curved like an egg out from behind him. The rocks made broken steps to the sky. On the left the face carried on past the ashes. On the right it petered off well shy. From the end of the diving plank you could see the cornfield wide of the ashes and the bluff. There wasn’t much to look at now, but in ten or twelve weeks the corn would shine bright as the water. The tassels all shook with fire. When hotter days came he would hide in the corn. He’d lie on his back and listen to the things that ran up and down the rows. He would hold his breath when Roxy called his name. He’d lie absolutely still lest he burst into flame.

The sun bore down on him like an ant been left in a mason jar. The breath sat on his heart. He clenched the sand in his fists. Cam did not come up.

He couldn’t hold it anymore and he coughed out his breath. He counted all the way to twelve Mississippi before Cam broke for air. Cam gasped and shook his head and laughed. The bluff faces laughed with Cam. The faces hawked strong smooth strokes as Cam swam to him.

When he reached the shallows, Cam stood. The water streamed down his body. Cam stared with those milky blue spooky eyes. Christ you’d a let me drowned wouldn’t you? Cam said.

He looked to the place where the creek seeped out the pond and cut through the ash trees. He said, You had to know everybody’d be worried about you.

Cam grabbed the sand and hoisted himself onto the ledge. Cam shook his head and water sprayed all over. Say man toss me that towel Cam said.

He picked up the green towel and handed it to Cam. Cam rubbed the towel over his blond hair and over his shoulders, his arms and stomach. Cam’s chest rose and fell all brown in the sun. Cam said, Okay look man I admit I didn’t think things out on this one. Same time there wasn’t no harm done. The way people bugged just shows we could all use a good mindfuck every now and again. Keep us loose. My mom of all people could sure use one. It’s like a karma thing and I can just see Mom wringing her hands and wringing her bottle and saying Where’s that boy a mine he’s all I got because I’m all alone here since I dumped his old man and booty hooty hoo. Cam laughed. Kind of funny, karma, ain’t it? Cam said. The way things are always going around and coming around?

He stared at the scars on his stomach. They’d all healed over but a couple were still red. How last night when the fire had run along upon the ground. How it had run round the basement and had run back at him like Indians on the warpath, eating things down to the shadows. How his sneakers pedaled the wall and his fingers raked up the bark dust and he could feel the heat all wet on his back and he wondered if the furnace would blow and if he’d be able to get out in time.

He looked up at Cam. He said Thought you maybe disappeared on account a what happened with the baseball team.

Cam’s eyes shined like lamps of fire. He felt Cam’s eyes try to light the insides of his head. He looked away. Cam laughed. No man, Cam said, I don’t give a shit about the baseball team. I took off because I never get to see my old man no more. And he’s growing up so fast. Cam laughed and punched him on the arm.

But Cam, he said. Everybody knows you lost your scholarship.

Wedged into the sand behind Cam was the water bottle that didn’t have water but did have vodka and soda pop. Cam stretched out and fetched the bottle and sat up and popped the cap with his thumb. Shit happens, fecal matters, Cam said. Cam raised the bottle and drank.

But that was the only way we was getting into the same school. Like we been planning?

Cam belched and licked his lips. Aw fuck school, Cam said. Fuck school and fuck baseball man. Hell I’ll just play a guitar.

But you could of gone so far, he said. Mr. Randolf says you could of won the Cy Young someday. You could of been a real star.

Cam said, A star? and blinked his milk blue eyes. Don’t you get it? I am hindoo baby. Bad luck and fucked days, they just roll right off me. Check it out. So what if I got kicked off the baseball team. So what if I lost the big bad scholarship. I don’t give a shit about college. I don’t give a shit about the majors. For chrissakes baseball’s a game for kids ain’t it? Cam took a drink and smacked his lips. Cam tipped the bottle like he was making a toast. All getting kicked off the baseball team means is it’s time to do something else. Like learn how to play guitar. Start a band. Make a bazillion and be found dead with a couple hookers and so much coke it’ll look like we got rolled in flour. Cam took a drink from the bottle and belched again. Here man.

No, he said, and he waved away the bottle.

Just have a sip man. One little sip. It’s hot out.

He pushed Cam’s arm away. I don’t want none, he said. Butter and honey shall I eat, that I may know to refuse the evil, and choose the good.

Cam’s eyes stared like chips of ice in his head. Onward Christian soldier, Cam said. Goddamn. You ought to be a priest or something. You got the guilt for it. The scars too.

He felt his face burn. He smelled the smoke and the gasoline in his hair and saw steam come up out his skin. Cam grabbed his shoulder so he could push himself up. Cam’s body looked like it was carved out of caramel. Next to Cam he was soft and pale and dead.

Cam said, Check it out man. The possibilities in this life are endless is all what I’m trying to tell you. Baseball ain’t the start or the end of the world or nothing. Not when the world’s a big old oyster I’m going to suck up one pearl at a time. Live in the now you know ain’t that what they say? Live in the now. Be free. Fuck man. You ain’t even taking care a your own now.

He looked up at Cam. Pollen drifted round Cam’s head. Cam smiled down at him and drank from the bottle. What do you mean? he said.

Cam said, You know what I mean. Today’s the most important day of our young lives and you’re going to spend it—what? Canning peaches with your grandma?

I already told you I couldn’t find no date.

You had Jenny twisting on the hook. She’d a pooped if you gave her the work order.

I couldn’t take her, he said, That girl’s a tramp. She’s done it with everybody. Even you.

Cam’s laugh bounced all round the broke up shell of the bluff. The ashes rustled their leaves. The flickers went wic wic wic hidden in the green. The creek trickled into and out the beaver pond and the sun beat on his head. Everything laughed at him.

He pulled his feet out the water and swung his legs up onto the ledge. Reckon I didn’t want to go to no prom anyhow, he said. It ain’t nothing except evilness, drink and adultery. He stood and went through the reeds and hoppers scattered and a snake rasped off into deeper cover.

Hey man, Cam said.

He walked out on the diving plank. The plank bobbed some with each step. He curled his toes over the end. Mats of water fern and glossy clouds of duckweed floated on the water. Round the pond purple loosestrife grew even thicker than last year. And no fingerlings hatched this season at all. The beaver pond was dying. His folks were dead. Everything shall be salted with fire.

Cam clapped his hands and said, Hey man come on this is dumb you got to go. Missing your prom’s bad mojo ain’t you heard the news? It’s like a unfinished chapter type thing. You’ll be unfinished and the rest of your life’ll be in limbo. Come on man you want to go. You can wear your old man’s tux and take your Aunt Roxy. She ain’t too bad. She’s what twentyfive, thirty? Come on man. Say you’ll go.

He raised his arms out to the sides. He took a breath and jumped up and down till the plank dipped heavy under him. Drops of water flipped off his skin. His head already hurt from the sun and hurt worse when Cam called his name. His knees came apart and he caught the plank wrong and the plank hucked him. He fell up in the air. His back arched so his feet went over his head. His calves slapped the water and the water made a plunging sound in his ears. It was cold, and for a second he thought he might burst to steam and float away. Instead pondweeds brushed on his skin and he opened his eyes. Bubbles floated up all round him. How last night he skinned out between the two roses and the sweat and smoke made him blind as he ran for the trees. Howthe windows busted and the flames were like hands that clawed their way up out the basement of the church. How he looked down and saw the cuffs of his jeans were on fire and he thought to let it be till his skin was all black on him, his bones burnt up with heat.