My Brother's Keeper (16 page)

Rudy tried to, but it all jumbled up. Hotdogs, and roller coasters, Jon laughing, and Ellis refusing to get on the rides. The cotton candy had smelled so good, but Rudy never got any. They’d left. They’d left because of Lenny and the horrible things he’d said.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Rudy’s lip trembled.

“Of course you don’t. See, that’s the problem. You’re a retard.”

“No.”

“Can’t deny the truth, Retard.”

“My name is Rudy. Rudy…” Tears filled Rudy’s eyes, making the headlights on the truck waver and Lenny go all funny. “Rudy…”

“Nope. Say your real name. Go on. Say it. I’ll even help out. Re-tar-d. Now it’s your turn.”

“My name is Rudy.”

Lenny shook him hard enough to make his teeth rattle. “Say it, Retard. Say your name.”

“Please…” Spots danced in front of Rudy’s eyes and big black circles joined the watery headlights.

“Say it. I won’t ask you again.” Lenny tightened his grip

“Retard.” Rudy’s voice cracked a lot like it did when he was sick.

“And what’s a retard?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh yes, you do. Tell me what a retard is.” Lenny’s palm connected with the side of Rudy’s head.

He held up a hand. “I don’t…please.”

“I’ll give you a hint. You’re a retard. Now say it, ‘Lenny, I’m a retard.’”

“No.”

“Say it.” He slapped Rudy again.

“I’m a…”

“Re-re…C’mon, even a shit for brains like you can say it.”

“Retard.”

“Now all together.”

“I-I-I’m a re-retard.”

“Again, Retard. Again.”

A sob bubbled out of Rudy’s chest. “I’m a retard.”

Lenny let Rudy go and he stumbled back.

Was that it? Was Lenny done? Was that all he wanted? Rudy made sure to keep his hands close to his chest so he wouldn’t break rule number three. Because touching Lenny would be worse than touching Jon’s dishes and making them break.

“I’m going to my room now. It’s nighttime and…” Lenny snatched Rudy by the hair. Every strand became a painful point and Rudy cried out.

“What? Don’t like having your hair pulled? I thought that was your thing?” Lenny dragged Rudy closer to the truck. “Did you like pulling Jenny’s hair? Is that the kind of shit that gets you off?”

“I didn’t pull it.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“It was an accident.”

“Too bad for you.” Lenny’s laugh was an ugly sound. “Queer Boy should have just let me beat the shit out of you then and this would have been settled. Getting in my way?” He clicked his tongue. “Oh no, that was not smart, not smart at all.” He twisted his hand tighter in Rudy’s hair.

“Stop, please stop.”

Lenny repeated Rudy’s words in a high pitched, whiney voice.

“That’s not nice. It’s not nice to make fun of people.”

Lenny shoved Rudy into the side of the truck, he hit the fender, bounced off, and landed on the ground. “What else did I tell you, Retard? What else did I say I was gonna do to you and your faggot brother?”

Rudy shook his head. “Ellis isn’t a faggot, he’s gay. Gay means happy. It’s good, like ice cream, baseball cards, and Ellis’s smiles.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Good things. The best things. I put them in a box. But only one in the box. Only one because each is special.”

Lenny slapped his knee and threw back his head howling. “Holy fuck, you are a riot.”

Rudy started to push himself up. Lenny stomped Rudy’s fingers, and ground his heel into the back of his hand.

The asphalt shredded Rudy’s flesh and he screamed.

It was worse than anything. Worse than the time he got dog bit, worse than the time he fell off his bike, skinned up his knees, or burned his hand.

“Still waiting for you to tell me what else I said.” He landed a kick to Rudy’s arm. It buckled and a dull throb rode up to his shoulder. “Say it, Retard.”

Rudy didn’t want to say it. It was horrible.

“Say the words.”

Snot covered Rudy’s upper lip and he couldn’t get his right arm to work to wipe it away.

Lenny’s landed another blow to Rudy’s chest. The air whooshed out of his lungs in a ragged cough. Rudy rolled to his side, mashing his hurt arm.

“You ready to talk yet?”

Maybe if he just said what Lenny wanted to hear, he would go away? “You said, I didn’t breathe the same air.”

Lenny kicked Rudy’s foot. “I said you don’t deserve to breathe the same air.”

Rudy nodded.

“What else?”

“That someone should cut…should cut…cut…my…”

“Balls off. All together now, say it.”

“Someone should cut my balls off.”

“And why is that, Retard? Why should someone cut off your balls?”

“So I can’t make retarded babies.”

“Yeah, you’re getting there. What else?”

The roaring throb in his arm made it difficult for him to concentrate. “I can’t remember.”

“And that, fuck-tard, that’s exactly why you’re useless. That’s why getting rid of people like you should be a public service.” Lenny scissored his first fingers moving them like legs. “Line you all up, dump you in a meat grinder, and feed you to the pigs. Of course, you might make the pigs stupid. So we can’t do that. How does that make you feel, knowing you’re not even good enough for a pig to shit out his asshole?”

Flecks of spit hit the side of Rudy’s face. He wished Ellis and Jon were here. Ellis and Jon would know what to do. He missed them. Rudy would give all of his baseball cards to have the chance to see them again.

He shivered. He should have brought his hat. If he had his hat his ears wouldn’t get cold.

Rudy pushed himself up on his knees. The pain in his hand and arm spread to the rest of his body.

“I wanna go home. Please let me go home.”

“Go home, huh? Home to your faggot brother and that faggot marshal.” Lenny bent down so close, their noses almost touched. “I got news for you, Retard. When I get done collecting my pound of flesh, home ain’t gonna to be nothing but a charred pile of wood and a couple of smoldering bodies.” He spit in Rudy’s eye. “What do you think about that?”

Another sob broke over Rudy’s lips. “You better leave us alone or Jon will be mad. Jon’s my friend. I gave him baseball cards and he will be mad at you.”

“You think I give a shit?”

“You shouldn’t cuss. Cussing is bad.” Lenny spit on him again. “Stop. Stop being mean. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I pulled Jenny’s hair. I’m sorry. Please stop being mean. Please. Please. I want to go home. I want to see Ellis and Jon and eat pancakes with bananas in them. It was an accident. Please stop being mean.”

Lenny’s fist connected with Rudy’s side. A deep crunch resonated through his chest and jagged spikes of fire shot through his lungs. The tang of copper crawled up his throat.

Rudy crumpled forward and Lenny kicked him in the side of the head, once knocking him over, twice scraping his face into the asphalt, and the third blow rolled him down the incline and into the ditch. The grass and wet earth were under Rudy, but he just kept falling and falling.

Whatever Lenny yelled was drowned out by a loud roar and, for some strange reason, all the pain and fear went away.

Then the mixed up thoughts in Rudy’s head cleared and all the things he’d never understood made sense.

That’s how he knew everything would be okay. And he had nothing to worry about. Ellis would get the light, the Big and Terrible would be stopped, and Jon would make sure Ellis’s clothes were never wrinkled.

Ellis scrubbed the kitchen, swept the floors, and organized the VHS tapes on the shelf under the TV. George had called twice. Still no sign of Rudy. Now it was almost midnight.

From here on out, there would be no bike. Ellis couldn’t go through this again. The panic, the fear, the worrying. Ellis’s stomach was a volcano, ready to erupt and, with every swallow, the burn rode up the back of his throat.

When there was nothing left to do in the kitchen, he went upstairs to collect the laundry. Ellis carried the basket from his room, and then went into Rudy’s.

He was almost out the door when the drawing on Rudy’s drafting table caught his attention. He picked up one of the wrinkled pieces of paper. Three stick figures, with over sized heads and smiles sticking out the side of their faces, held hands. There were M shaped birds and happy clouds. The sun had a smiley face.

Rudy didn’t normally draw faces on the sun. The last time he did was right before they met Jon in the park.

“That’s why I didn’t know his name.”

No. It was just a drawing, a silly, colorful drawing. Rudy drew pictures of horses and cows, but they didn’t have any of those in their backyard. Or dinosaurs and giant butterflies. Rudy saw people every day. Maybe he’d just drawn someone to draw them?

Ellis put the piece of paper back on the drafting table. On the shelf, half hidden under a picture book, was another small stack of drawings. He wasn’t sure why, but he put the basket back down and looked through them.

A large black shape dominated the first sheet of paper. Two red slits at the head made eyes. Large sharp teeth grew from all angles in its gaping mouth. The creature’s limbs had equally grotesque claws. The next one had two running figures while a third stood in front of the monster a weapon in hand. What was it? A spear? A sword?

A bat.

The next one showed the same black monster, this time, with spikes. The two stick figures in the picture now had oversized frowns.

The last picture was mostly red and yellow. One of the two stick figures held up a sun. Rays went from it to the creature. It no longer had red slits for eyes. They were X’s.

Ellis flipped through the drawings again. Three stick figures, then two.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

Downstairs the phone rang and Ellis left the pictures on the drafting table.

Please, please tell me they found him. Please. I swear I won’t yell. I won’t be mad. And Rudy can have damned waffles every morning. Just find him.

He grabbed the phone.

“George?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Where is he?”

“Out near Grant Road.”

Grant Road? That was almost ten miles away. “Are you going to bring him home or do I need to drive out and get him?”

“Ellis.” There was the slightest waver to George’s voice. When he continued it was gone. “You should come down.”

Ellis checked the end table for his keys and then the hook by the door. He found them in the bowl in the kitchen.

“Where on Grant Road?”

“Close to the Moonlight Motel and the M’s Café.”

“Okay. Okay. It will take me a few minutes to get there. I have to let the truck warm up or it won’t run.”

“That’s fine. Take your time.”

Ellis hung up.

Shoes. He needed shoes.

Ellis shoved his bare feet into his sneakers and he didn’t even bother to close the front door.

The truck cranked right up. He thought about risking driving it cold, but if he did, it might flood when he restarted it. Then it would take him even longer to get there.

The temperature gage twitched.

“C’mon. C’mon.” Ellis gave it a little gas. The engine sputtered. “Don’t you dare cut out on me.” It chugged and resumed rumbling. He squeezed the steering wheel and bounced his foot. The needle twitched again and this time stayed up. It had to be enough. He prayed it would be enough.

Ellis put the truck in gear. It stuttered and he tapped the accelerator. A dark cloud puffed from the tail pipe and the rumble smoothed out.

Gravel pinged off the undercarriage until he hit the road.

The bike was definitely gone. Ellis would get Rudy something else. He didn’t know what, but he’d figure it out. Rudy was going to be mad and he was going to sulk, but it was better than dealing with this again.

What about when they went to the camp grounds? If Rudy wandered off up there, he’d get lost for sure. There would be no police to look for him. He could fall off a cliff or drown in the lake. Ellis would change the plans. No cabin. They needed somewhere safer. Somewhere Rudy couldn’t wander off and there’d be no people for him to bother.

Ellis took the main roads. It was longer in mileage, but shorter in time. As he turned onto Grant Road, red lights cut streaks through the trees up ahead. Why would George have his lights on? And since when did they put red ones on a police cruiser?

The trees dwindled away. Multiple cop cars crowded the curb, there was a fire truck, and a first responder.

Ellis sped up.

With a stomach full of chicken and dumplings, a gallon of sweet tea, and two pieces of peach pie, Jon had staggered back to his room and collapsed on the bed. He knew when he sat down in the booth at M’s, he’d gotten too much food. But, once inside, surrounded by scents of cinnamon, butter, crisp overtones of onion, and the richer flavor of meat, his hunger took over. It only made sense that the food coma came next.

The dreams were always the worst when he slept hard. That’s when his mind descended into a hidden layer of unconsciousness, unknown by science, where all the darkness of a man’s life pooled to ferment.

Dreaming about the factory, where he relived the moment his team members died, didn’t surprise him. The shift from a scene of concrete, metal beams, and broken windows, to the softer light of spring sectioned by the slat walls of a barn also came as no surprise. Here, he would find his brother hanging from the center beam and the overturned stool. It was usually then that Jon woke up.

This time, he didn’t.

Jon stood on the porch of a beautiful farmhouse. He knew the screen door would squeak when he opened it, and inside he would find hard wood floors aged to almost black. There would be a staircase to his right and three bedrooms on the top floor.

It only had one large bathroom because it had been added years after the house was built.

Jon did not want to go inside, but he opened the door. Sunlight poured through the back windows, washing away the shadows of the interior. Instead of well-loved furniture, a curio cabinet, and pictures on the walls, there was a single rubber duck in the center of the living room floor.