Redemption (22 page)

“
Yeah,” Ramsey said, “but aren’t they leavin’ Sunday?”

“
There’s been a change of plans.”

“
Oh.” Ramsey fiddled with the focus. “You, uh, do this for everyone?”

No, just people whose lives are in danger.
“We ain’t got nothin’ better to do today,” he said, and he pulled his hat over his eyes. “Besides, it’s an election year. Folks like rescue stories. Just wake me when it leaves.”

“
Uh, Sheriff? It’s leavin’ now.”

So soon? Good.
“They load much stuff?”

“
No. Only Michael got in.”

“
Probably getting some gas. Bet that thing will take forty or fifty gallons. We’ll stay put till he gets back.”

“
You sure? I mean, it might break down, maybe run out of gas on the way to Pine.”

“
I think he can make it twenty miles. Wake me when he comes back.”

26

Michael slowed but didn’t stop at the railroad crossing south of Pine even though the signal lights flashed.
Them things are always flashin’, but there ain’t never a damn train comin’. Some railroad engineer’s idea of a damn joke.

He drove up Mason’s Hill, the longest hill in the county, the Winnebago straining as it neared the top. “C’mon, girl,” he whispered as it crested the hill, and in moments, he was looking down on the sparkling waters of Pine Lake, the town of Pine on a peninsula in the distance.

His eyes wandered to the dam ...

Fool never knew what was up. Such a trustin’ ass
and
a dumbass. A trustin’ dumbass. Always ran that piece of shit car of his down to empty. “Hey, need some help?” J lookin’ at Darcy then sayin’ “Yeah.” Nigger never knew if he was black or white. Screwin’ Darcy silly before goin’ out with Sharese who wouldn’t give him none, and I sure am glad for that. I married me a good girl. Then J’s tellin’ me Darcy was the kind to screw, Sharese the kind to marry. Showin’ me the engagement ring at school, sayin’ “Tonight’s the night, Mikey,” and me sayin’, “Yeah, it sure is.” And it was. It sure enough was.

Jimmy Lee sweet-talkin’ Darcy and J into the front of the truck, me and Maggie in the back, towin’ his car behind us down the dirt road where I live now. Nothin’ there then but a few logs in a circle. Startin’ the fire, Jimmy Lee turnin’ up the music, passin’ around a milk jug of the finest ‘shine. J askin’ Maggie to dance, and Jimmy Lee goin’ off. Jimmy Lee and Maggie goin’ at it behind a tree, J and Darcy doin’ it right there for all the world to see, and me watchin’ and waitin’.

He filled up the Winnebago at Henry’s Amoco, chuckling to himself.
The sweetest little plan, but we hadn’t figured on the girls freakin’ out, Darcy especially. 'Course the position she was in when I hit him that first time. Yeah, I might of freaked out, too.

Fool wasn’t even dead, and she was hard trippin’, screamin’ “Oh my God!” and “Don’t hurt him!' Shit. I was just savin’ the brother from himself, just rescuin’ that two-toned yaller-white black boy who stole my girl.

Michael paid with a new fifty and used the change to get a few liters of water in case the radiator overheated. Instead of taking the quickest route, he drove the long way around the dam to give Sharese and the boys more time to get ready.

Tossed him in the truck, and the boy was out cold, Darcy still freakin’ out in the back, Jimmy Lee yellin’ “Shut up, bitch!!” through the little window, me laughin’ my ass off. Droppin’ them bitches at the dam where Maggie had her car, Jimmy Lee sayin’, “Drive that whiny bitch around till she calms down.” “Don’t hurt him,” Darcy says. “Too late,” I say to myself, and then Jimmy Lee goes off on her, callin’ her a nigger-lovin’ whore. That pissed me off, but it was Jimmy Lee’s show. “We ain’t gonna kill him, so go on,” Jimmy Lee says. I laughed my ass off.

He slowed to a crawl at the midpoint of the dam then floored it.

Right there. Sank the car right there. Rolled down all the windows, gave it a push, sank like a stone. Took J to the church. Never much liked Mt. Zion. Too damn cold in the winter, too damn hot in the summer, never enough seats, preachin’ goin’ on and on, ladies fannin’ their fat faces with Martin Luther King fans, kids cryin’ and fussin’, choir too damn loud and couldn’t sing a lick, a white Jesus up on the wall.

I woke J’s ass up, and he says, “Where’s Darcy?” He was still thinkin’ about that fat white ho. “What time is it? I gotta date with Sharese.” He feels his head. “What happened to my head?” “Fallin’ star,” Jimmy Lee says. “Fell right out of the sky right on your head while you were screwin’ Darcy. God’s tryin’ to tell you somethin’, brother J. Tryin’ to send you a message. That’s why we’re here at your church. Gonna have a little service ...”

He started down Mason’s Hill, a long train crossing the valley below. “Damn,” he said, and he shifted into the lowest gear.
Now Sharese is gonna be mad I took
too
long.

He stopped at the crossing and counted boxcars, occasionally looking down the line for the caboose. He turned up the air-conditioner and the volume on the radio. “Mama said knock you out!” he chanted, tapping on the steering wheel. He looked at the side mirror and saw a Jeep creeping closer and closer to his bumper. “Shit, boy, you bein’ on my ass ain’t gonna make the train run any faster. Back the hell off!”

Then Michael Lavender felt a bump.

27

Creep up, a tiny bump, check to see that the Jeep’s not locked with the Winnebago’s bumper, drop it into four-wheel low, pop the clutch, stand on the accelerator, and watch the Winneba-GO until it catches on the train.

Daa-em. That was too easy. Man didn’t even try to get out, didn’t even try to back up. Remind me not to get one of those. A Winnebago’s brakes are weak as shit.

Throw it in reverse and watch the show. Dag, the Winnebago took out the crossing light like it wasn’t even there. Bumpety-bumpety-bumpety-bumpety like an old tin can bouncin’ down the street. SCREEEEECH. Ooh, sparks now, lots of sparks—BOOM!

Fourth of July, take three!

Lester still got you beat, though.

And the train still ain’t stoppin’? That’s cold, man. That’s no way to treat a passenger, even one that don’t got a ticket.

Damn, Michael, you finally done caught that train. Went out in a blaze of glory, too. Gonna have to call you Boxcar Michael from now on.

Time to make another house call. Don’t worry, I’ll be nicer to your wife. Though we ain’t exactly friends yet, I know she and I are gonna be real good and tight.

28

Overton checked his watch. “He ought to be back by now.”

“
Maybe he stopped at the store,” Ramsey said.

Or maybe he isn’t coming back.
He drove out onto 109. “We’ll just mosey a bit up the road, see what we can—you hear that?”

“
What?”

“
I thought I heard sirens.” He rolled down his window and heard the whine of several sirens. He stepped on the accelerator. “Get on the radio and see what’s—”

But then he saw a plume of black smoke muddying the sky.

“
Oh shit,” Ramsey said, and he fumbled with the mike.

“
Gimme that,” Overton said, and he swiped the mike from Ramsey’s shaking hands. “This is Sheriff Overton. What the hell’s going on?”

“
Got a train on fire, Sheriff,” a voice said over the static.

A what?
“Who’s this?”

“
Wilkes.”

“
Is it on fire at the crossing?”

“
No,” Wilkes said, “about a half-mile west.”

“
Are you at the scene?”

“
Almost. Usin’ the dirt access road ... holy shit!”

“
What is it?” Overton demanded.

“
It, uh, looks like ... damn, it’s what’s left of a truck or something, stickin’ out the side of the train!”

My God!
“A small truck?”

“
No, a big one. Like one of them—”

Overton threw the mike to Ramsey and floored it. “It’s Michael.”

The Winnebago was a blackened carcass, crushed and crumpled like a discarded beer can. Overton stood with the train’s conductor, Ramsey, and Pine Sheriff Bobby Poole while Wilkes and the volunteers doused the remaining flames.

“
A train this size, you don’t even feel it,” the conductor said. “And it was just plain luck we looked back as we were rounding that curve. Good thing the train was empty. No telling what would have happened if we’d been fully loaded.”

Wilkes stumbled down the embankment beside the tracks. “No sign of him.”

“
Coulda been thrown,” Sheriff Poole said. “Better walk the line.”

“
Jesus,” Ramsey said as they spread out and walked back toward the crossing. “We could have run right over him.”

They hadn’t covered fifty feet when Ramsey yelled out, “Over here!”

By the time Overton arrived, Ramsey was vomiting into a thicket of brown grass, pointing to his right. Overton knelt next to the upper half of Michael’s body, his arms severed at the elbows. “Hello Michael,” he said.

“
Jesus, Sheriff,” Ramsey said between wretches, “we just talked to him!”

Overton helped Ramsey to his feet and waved his arms until Sheriff Poole noticed. “We’ll let the Pine folks manage this, okay? After all, it’s on their side of the tracks, right?”

“
Fine by me.”

They walked to the crossing where Pine deputies were directing traffic around the initial area of impact, glass and metal littering the pavement. Overton wandered around the scene, Ramsey following on his heels. “What
don’t
you see, Ramsey?”

“
Um, I don’t know.”

The boy is dumber than snail shit.
“You see any skid marks, Ramsey?”

Ramsey squatted and spun on his heels in all directions. “No.”

“
What does this tell you?”

Ramsey looked up and grimaced. “That he drove straight into the train. You, uh, think he tried to beat the train?”

“
He hit the
middle
of the train, Ramsey.”
Snail shit is smarter.

“
Oh, yeah, right. Do you, uh, think his brakes failed?”

Overton shook his head. “That was a practically new Winnebago. The brakes should have been fine. Even if he was going too fast down that hill, he should have left at least one skid-mark somewhere.”

Ramsey stood. “Unless he
wanted
to run into that train. But who’d want to run into a train?”

A man trying to escape his past might.
“Nothing more to do here. We need to break the bad news to Sharese.”

Ramsey bit his lip. “I could stay here, take some notes, see what Wilkes and Sheriff Poole have to say.”

“
No. Let’s go see Sharese.” He started for the car.

“
You’ll do all the talkin’, right?”

“
Sure. I’ll show you how it’s done.”
I’m getting pretty good at it lately.

29

Nice place. No messin’ with her cuz she wasn’t involved back then. She was still at home waitin’ for him that night. She supposedly loved him.

But she benefited, she bore three of Michael’s sons, she got her a nice house, and she never had to work a day in her life.

What to do, what to do. Wanna wipe it all clean, wanna get rid of any traces. Three little traces runnin’ around the yard. Least they got to know
their
daddy. They didn’t really know him, though. Maybe she’ll tell them one day. That’ll mess them up for life, knowin’ their daddy murdered his best friend so he could steal his best friend’s girl.

Mercy. This time we show mercy. For now.

Five down, two to go.