And Crawling Things Lurk

Jackie didn’t bother wasting time walking up and down the streets, just the alleys. But he also discovered that folks tended to be even more defensive when it came to their home neighborhoods than he found downtown. He couldn’t make it even one block down one of the alleys without some resident spotting him and then remaining out where Jackie would see him watching until he went on to the next block. It was almost as bad as the guy from the TV shop, but at least no one told him to get out of their alley. Sooner or later, though, someone was going to call the police about the unsavory character prowling about in the alley behind their house.

He should just leave, but he hesitated. He was on a public thoroughfare, so, as long as he didn’t trespass or something, they shouldn’t arrest him. He wasn’t even drunk. They could advise him to leave, but they couldn’t make him. Well, they couldn’t if he was a respectable citizen, paying taxes and all that. Although, when he thought of it, he paid taxes every time he bought a bottle or cigarettes. Gramma paid property taxes, bought food and clothing and stuff just like everyone else, and he helped her do that, so he was a tax paying citizen. He just wasn’t respectable. Not to the people in the houses that were getting offended by his presence. Still, he had to keep looking. He needed things to make his spear.

It was an old-style neighborhood, the type with individually styled houses lining parallel streets, and alleys splitting the blocks down the middle. Some of the houses were recently built, but a good many were more than fifty years old, and more than a few over seventy-five and eighty. And so, Jackie figured, in order to maintain them, sometimes the owners had to replace things, things that would be tossed out, things that he might have a use for. It seemed reasonable, anyway.

The fact that there were no dumpsters made it a bit harder to look. Some of the houses kept their trash containers out near the alley for easy pick-up, but others kept them close to the backs of the houses, wheeling them out to the alley on pick-up days. But, those household trash bins were too small to contain what he was looking for, anyway. His only chance was to check along the edges of the alley where someone might dispose of a pole. But what were the chances of that happening?

He was getting the feeling that his quest was nothing but a wild goose chase, a snipe hunt. But what could he do? He had to keep looking. He had to have a weapon to kill the killer. He had thought about buying a gun, but only for a few minutes. He probably had enough money in the bank; he only kept a small portion of his check each month and gave the rest to Gramma. She told him once that she had opened a bank account for him, but he didn’t know what was in it or how to get it out. He supposed Gramma could do it for him, but then he got to thinking about what Evans would do if he tried walking around town with a gun. A spear was still the best idea he could come up with.

It was still only late morning, but he sure was getting thirsty. Thoughts of bottles kept pushing in with visions of them floating about just beyond his reach, their fruity aroma wafting out in misty clouds. Tempting, but he resisted by concentrating on memories of Rosie’s face. When those images lost some of their impact, he visualized Gramma, and then Muri wadded up and wrapped up in the bottom of a shopping cart. Then he had to force himself to slow down lest he rush past and miss the very thing he was looking for.

At the end of the block, he crossed the sidewalk and started to step out to cross the street when he spotted a patrol car go through the intersection a block and a half away. He waited to see if it would come back, but it didn’t. He went on across the street and was just about to enter the alley of the next block when –

“Jackie!”

Turning the other direction, he saw Muri coming from the corner.

When she got close enough to talk without shouting, she said, “Hi, Jackie. What’cha doing here? Did you come to see me?”

He smiled as his new friend walked up to him and reached out to his hand. He held her hand for a bit until he got to thinking about what the folks in the neighborhood might have to say about someone like him holding hands with one of their little girls. He dropped her hand and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“You live around here?”

“Uh huh. Right around that corner. Where you going?”

He shrugged his shoulders and grinned a crooked grin. Nodding toward the alley stretching before him, he said, “I’m just looking for something I need to make something with.”

“In the alley? What are you looking for in there?”

He didn’t want Muri to laugh at him. How could he tell her he was going to make a spear to kill a monster? Now that he had gone days without getting stinko blotto, it was beginning to sound pretty ridiculous to him, too. Maybe everyone that was laughing had a good reason. Still, he had to do it.

“I need a long pole. I’m going to make a spear.”

“A spear? How come?”

He still hesitated. Finally, “To kill it with. To kill that thing that got Josie and Sarge.”

“Who’s Sarge?”

She hadn’t laughed. Maybe she hadn’t understood. “He was an old guy with no legs and rode around town in a wheelchair.”

“Oh, yeah, I know who you mean. I didn’t know his name was Sarge.”

“That wasn’t his name. Everyone just called him that.”

“And he got killed like Josie?”

It was hard talking about his friends’ deaths with such candor. He just nodded.

“Oh, gee. Was he your friend, too?”

Again, he just nodded.

“Can I help you make the spear?”

Just like that, she accepted the whole idea. And she didn’t laugh.

“I don’t even know if I can make it. I haven’t found what I need, yet.”

“What do you need?”

He thought for a bit, unsure if he should ensnare her in his crusade, but he could use help. “I need a pole, a wooden pole for the handle.”

“Can’t you buy one?”

“I guess I could if someone sold them, but there ain’t no spear stores in town. Cedar City don’t even have a lumber yard. I don’t have a way to go anywhere else.”

“You think someone might throw one away? Is that why you’re walking through the alley?”

He shrugged. “That’s all I can do. I found one a few days ago. It was an old broken flagpole in a dumpster downtown. It even had sort of a spearhead already on it. But the guy from the store came out and wouldn’t let me have it.”

“Why not, if it was in the garbage?”

Another shrug, but this time he couldn’t meet her eyes. “He don’t like people like me.”

“That’s mean! Couldn’t you go back and take it out of the dumpster after he went back inside?”

“He broke it in two. He even took the end that would have been good for the point.”

“Well, that’s even meaner! I don’t like him.”

“Me neither, but that don’t help me find what I need.”

“Come on, let’s look.” She grabbed his hand that he had taken back out of his pocket and led him into the alley.

They had gone only a few steps, though, when he stopped and said, “Muri, I don’t think you should be walking with me. If someone sees us, they might think...something.”

She looked at him with confusion twisting her young face. Then, when it dawned on her what he meant, that she had to be careful of strangers, especially some strangers, her face darkened as though a cloud had passed in front of the sun. “People shouldn’t think stuff about other people that they don’t know, or they better have a darned good reason. If they don’t like people like you, it’s ’cause they don’t know you, and they’re the ones that lose. You’re my friend, Jackie, and no one better tell me you’re not a good enough person!”

Jackie’s smile came back, and he said, “I’m glad to be your friend, but that ain’t gonna find what I need. I think even if I did find a pole in your alley, I wouldn’t be able to take it. Someone would probably call the police and they’d just arrest me for stealing or prowling or something. They could even take me to county jail and ask me questions for the next week about what I was doing in an alley with a pretty, little girl. I don’t need to spend the next week answering questions; I got something to do. I better just go back to the Hole and try to think of something else besides a spear.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Her smiling face was now as bright as it had been dark just a little earlier.

He had to laugh that his passing compliment was what she latched onto. “I think so.” Then, aping the tone of her earlier declaration, “And no one better tell me you’re not!”

She picked up on his ribbing echo and grinned.

Just then, a pickup carrying an assortment of commercial fishing equipment came around the corner from Muri’s street. As it went past, Muri waved at the man driving, and he waved back, but he didn’t look too friendly to Jackie. In fact, it looked to Jackie as though the guy was about to stop.

“Hi, Jerry,” Muri called out and waved.

The truck kept going on past the next corner, but Jackie was pretty sure the driver was watching them in his mirrors.

“That’s Jerry. He’s my neighbor. He’s probably going to the marina. He’s got a fishing boat down there.”

“And, did you see? He saw you with me and didn’t like it.”

“Oh, but Jerry’s nice. He one of my friends.”

“Yeah, and he’s doing what friends do; he’s looking out for you.”

“Well, I’ll tell him next time I see him that you’re not like he was thinking.”

Jackie turned about slowly as he took in Muri’s neighborhood, but he couldn’t see anyone else watching them. “It might take more than that. I’ll see you,” he said with a wink as he turned and walked away towards the street corner.

“Okay, see you,” she called after him.

She stood there and watched him until he turned the corner back towards downtown and the Hole. Then she looked over her shoulder at the alley behind her house stretching away in a diminishing perspective that continued on through the alley of the next block, and the one after that. With a nod, she turned into the alley and started walking, her head swiveling side to side as she looked for a discarded pole.

Disheartened, Jackie had diverted to the bottle store before he got back to the Hole, so when Erica and Joe saw him coming down the slope, he received a warm welcome.

They were well into the first bottle, everyone sitting and slouching about Jackie’s space, when the first mention of his quest was made.

“So,” Joe said, “is this spear going to be like the one ol’ Saint George used on his dragon? You know, with a hand guard and a long butt end to stick under your armpit?” Before Jackie could respond, Joe went on, “But you’re ’sposed to use those things with a horse. You gonna go prowling the alleys for a horse, too?”

Erica waved Joe and Ed’s laughs aside and said, “No, those are called lances, dummy, not spears. Spears are for throwing.”

“Naw,” Ed put in. It hadn’t taken him long to join the others when he heard sounds of bottle sharing. “Javelins are for throwing, not spears. Didn’t you ever watch the Olympics? Spears are for jabbing.”

“You can throw a spear, too.” Joe took Erica’s side. It was more fun arguing with Ed than with Erica, especially about something as manly as the specific uses of weapons. “That’s why you gotta make sure it’s balanced. If it ain’t balanced, it’s hard to hit your target.”

“Naw, it’s gotta have a heavy point on one end. If it was balanced, the damned thing would just topple end over end. You gotta have a heavy point to pull the rest of it through the air.”

“That ain’t what balance is, you dumb shit. Balance is what keeps it from wobbling back and forth while it’s flying through the air. If it wobbles, it ain’t gonna be on target.”

Since Jackie hadn’t even had the chance to answer the original question, not that he would have answered it, he dragged himself to his feet, picked up the second, still unopened bottle, and walked away from his raucous friends. He didn’t feel much like being raucous. He just wanted to see if he could find a nice quiet spot where he could work on finding a nice fog from his bottle...maybe over by Josie’s place.

He would have answered their stupid question, all right, with a fist on their noses – every one of ’em. They could sit there and guzzle his bottle and make fun of him and what he was trying to do. They just didn’t miss Josie like he did. They could show a little respect for her, though. And Sarge, too. Yeah, they should show some respect for Sarge. He was a veteran. He deserved respect. And Josie was a good person. She deserved respect, too. Hell, he knew he couldn’t make a damned spear. He didn’t need them to tease him about it. Why did he think he could do something like make a spear and kill that thing? That was something other guys might do, but not him. Who did he think he was kidding? When had he ever done anything?

“Hey, Jackie,” Joe called. “You gonna share that bottle?”

“Oh, you guy’s leave him alone.” Erica swatted her drinking buddies and got them to sit back down. “We got plenty right here. He didn’t have to leave it, you know. We hurt his feelings, but he still left us this one.” Then, loud enough for him to hear if he was listening, “Thanks, Jackie.”

He reached out to touch the cracked handle of Josie’s cart, still at the edge of her space where he had pushed it. “I’m sorry, Josie. I wanted to, but I guess I’m just not the kind of person to do it.”

The screw cap on the bottle in his hand cracked and popped when he freed it, and the first deep swig was fiery, then sweet as the aftertaste came through. Not that he ever really evaluated the wine he bought, other than to make sure it was fortified with extra alcohol. He looked at the familiar label on the bottle that said it was port, and he decided he liked port. He’d have to remember that...yeah, that was likely to happen. He’d be lucky if tomorrow he could remember what color it was, or care.

He tilted the bottle to his lips and sucked hard. Then he walked over and knelt beside the mattress Josie left spread out on sunny days to catch the sunlight and tilted the bottle again. “Gotta sterilize the bugs out of it once in a while,” she used to say. How many times had she given him a bit of lovin’ on that old mattress? She used to say he could have a bit of lovin for a bit of bottle, but she never refused him if he didn’t have one. She never let him down.

Another swig. He needed that fog.

Not like he was letting her down. He didn’t want to, but how could he not let her down? He’d been quick enough with his promise that he’d kill the thing that got her. But what had he done since then? He had prowled a lot of alleys, but that was nothing new for him. What had he done different since he had said he would make it pay? Nothing. He was just the same old Jackie. “Good for a bottle,” he muttered. “And good to laugh at, but not much good for anything else.

He raised the bottle, but before tilting it –

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” that familiar voice said. “You’re pretty good at feeling sorry for yourself.”

He looked down at the mattress where she was lying on her back, like she did when she was ready to give him a bit of loving. It was like, even now, with him going back on his promise, she was still ready to love him.

He turned his head so he didn’t have to look at her, then he turned his body and sat with his back to the mattress. “Am not,” he mumbled.

“Sure, you are, hon. Everyone’s laughing at you, so you’re pouting. I agree it ain’t nice for them to laugh at you, but you’re a big boy, now. You don’t have to do what they think you should do if you think you should do something else. What do you think you should do?”

“You know,” he mumbled and lifted the bottle, but he didn’t tilt it.

“Yeah, I do. Do you?”

He just shrugged in answer, and the bottle lowered to his lap. He thought he knew. He did at one time. He wasn’t so sure, anymore.

“What should you do, Jackie? What is it that you want to do because it’s what you know you should do?”

“Kill it.”

When she said nothing, he wasn’t sure he had said it loud enough. He turned to face her, and she was nodding.

“And why should it make any difference if someone gets a laugh out of that? Does them laughing make it not important that you do it?”

“Still important,” he mumbled.

“Why? Why is it important? What difference does it make?”

He had to give himself a bit of time to work out the logic, to arrange it in his mind so he could explain it. “Because if I don’t, and if no else kills it, either, it’s going to come back. I can’t get nobody else to even believe it’s real. And next time it might get...it could even be Gramma – or Muri!” At this, he raised his head and looked into Josie’s eyes, and tears came into his.

“That’s right, hon. It’ll just keep coming back. How many people that you love are you gonna let it have?”

“None! No more! I’m gonna kill it!”

“And how’re you going to do that?”

“I’m going to make a spear, and I’m going to shove it clean through that thing until it screams and shakes and dies!”

The silence following his outburst gave way to a new chorus of laughter from his friends still sharing his bottle a short distance away. After glancing over his shoulder at them, he turned back to the mattress that was now empty. At least he couldn’t see anyone lying on it. Still, he smiled and muttered, “Sound like a bunch of crows, don’t they?”

He didn’t expect an answer, so when he heard his name called from up above, he rocked back and peered up at the trestle. Standing on it and looking down was a silhouetted figure he had come to know well. He raised his hand and gave a little wave. “Hi, Muri.”

“Jackie, I’ve got something for you. Is it okay if I bring it down?”

“Sure. Come on down.”

When she rounded the bottom of the slope and turned upstream, Jackie had gotten to his feet and was back beside Josie’s cart. The bottle remained on the ground beside Josie’s mattress. From back at his space Erica called out, “Hi, sweetie. How ya doin’?”

“I’m fine, Erica. Hi, Joe. Hi, Ed.”

When she got to Jackie, he shook his head and said, “Your momma’d skin you if she knew you knew everyone down here by name. And Evans’d skin me.”

“Then, don’t tell them,” she said, grinning. “Here, will this work?”

Into his hands she laid a long, smooth wooden pole. It was about six feet long, a little under an inch and a half in diameter, and it appeared to be some kind of hardwood. It was even varnished.

He gaped at it, then at her, half expecting to see white wings and a golden halo.

“Is it too long? Or too short? I might be able to get another one that’s a little longer.”

He hefted it, wrapped his hands around it and made a couple of jabs with it. “It’s perfect. Where’d you get it?”

She got a pensive look on her face and turned a little red. “Out of my closet.”

“Your clos – your closet?” He looked at it again, then back at her. “You took the clothes-rod out of your closet?”

“Well, you said you needed a pole. I checked all up and down the alley, even in the next block, but I couldn’t find anything. Will it work?”

“Yeah, it’d work great – if I used it, which I ain’t gonna do. Are you crazy? It’s bad enough, you coming down here after your momma told you not to, and Evans telling you to stay away from me. You’re gonna give them both plenty of reason to say they were right.”

Muri dropped her head and just stood there looking at her feet.

Jackie started to pace off in one direction, then spun and started to go in the other. That was when he saw her. Had she been standing there all along? Josie was beside Muri, and she had her arm curled around the girl’s shoulders. Of course, Muri couldn’t feel it and had no idea she was there. Her smiling face turned from Muri to Jackie, and she got that look where her eyes got sad and looked at him with such disappointment. He was being an ass again. He did a slow nod with his eyes closed, and then reached down and took Muri’s hand in his.

“Muri, I ain’t gonna use it, as perfect as it is, because of what it’d cost. I wouldn’t ever do anything that’d get you into trouble, especially if I don’t have to.”

She looked up, and her eyes spilled out the tears filling them. “But you said you had to have –”

“And I do. And I will. But not this one. I oughta have my tail kicked all over the Hole for not thinking of it like you did. I ain’t sayin’ it for an excuse, but I guess the reason is ’cause my brain just ain’t used to thinking. I’ve been going so long without using it, it musta got flabby. But, you know what? I’ve got a closet, too. And it’s got a rod in it just like this one. And it ain’t holding up very many clothes, either. So, you take this back home and see if you can get it back in without your momma knowing you took it out. I’m gonna go home and get mine.”

She took it back from him, but she just stood there looking at it.

“Muri, really, all I really needed was the idea, and you gave it to me. Thank you.”

“You sure?” She wiped her palm across her eyes, first one, and then the other.

“I’m sure.” He reached out with both arms and said, “But I could sure use a hug.”

Without hesitation, she threw her arms around his waist. With his arms around her shoulders, he looked over her head and into Josie’s eyes. The shade remained silent, but her smile said much.

The bottle remained on the ground.