A CAR WITH GREEN LIGHTS

  Towards the end of our second summer of work, our job territory was along the foothills of the mountain counties. From time to time, Bill would say, “You know from here we could get down to Millville by Saturday afternoon, have a look around, be back by Monday. Ask the folks what they have heard about Doc. Maybe then drive out to visit him. You think things must have worked out for him by now? Sure want to see him and his place.” I would stall, explaining that we should complete the job we were on before taking off. Wait until we had more than a weekend. Be sure we had no hard obligation for a while. Call it what you want, but I had this uneasy feeling that things might go amiss.

  The smokestack stood clean, the town’s proud landmark. The factory paid prompt and in full. We were ready to roll; this time I could not hold back on Bills urge to see the Wizard. Taking off at day break, we are in Millville before noon. Pulled into the general store, looked the same. Once inside we saw the big change; electricity had come to town. A light bulb on a cord over the counter, hung like a trophy. A clerk, whose face I thought I knew, gave us the usual howdy, “What’s it gonna be boys? “ I order the three Bs, beans, bread and baloney. Bill stood over a soda pop cooler, filled with chipped ice, searching for Stookys Lemon Lime, asked the clerk for it. He says, “Don’t carry that no more. The soda company got bought out by another; try 7up.” Bill says, “Nope. I can get that anywhere, it’s not the same.” I said, “Pick out colas for me.” As I pay I says to the clerk. “How is old Doc Worbolt? He looked up to see who I might be. “Don’t know the name, might have left for war work.” I says he was kind ‘a old for factory work. I said he lived across the river beyond the hog trough crossing. “That’s gone, washed out, county put in a concrete slab. Better not go too far up river; things have been changed up there.” We left. Outside I said to Bill, “Everybody in town knew the Doc; have we been gone that long? “ Drove on to the river, passed the scattered homes along the dirt road. Stopped in front of Clarence the Muleman’s place; all weed grown up, empty!

  Did a U-turn, went back to the first house that looked somebody would be at home. One had wash out drying. When we stopped in front, a girl came to the door, went back in; an old women came outside, stood on the front steps. I called to her,” Does Mr. Mueller still live around here, he was the mailman.” She says, “No mailman now, we goes to the post office in Vinetree to get our mail.” You don’t remember Mr. Mueller? “Yells back,” I think he may have took a war job in the city, lot’s changed since you was here last.” That remark gave a twist to my mind. She was holding back something, for sure. Didn’t dare ask the question I wanted to ask.

  Straight to the river now! The road drops into the valley, becomes gravely as it winds around to our destination; an unexpected turn heads us a little way downstream from the bluff crossing. There is a break in the tree line that gives us a peek at the bluff, The overhanging trees end; there it is flowing clear blue in the sunshine, our river. Bill yelled, “It’s truly real!”

  First change we notice is the foot bridge is gone; part of it still dangles from where it was connected to the bluff. Anxious to get across, we take off our trousers and wade across at the shoals, wearing only our shorts and shoes. The bluff line tapered down at the end of the peninsula. We remembered the stone steps Doc had built from his vegetable garden up to the house. Locating them, we took the steps two at a time, racing for his home.

  There we see it, gone! His home, his gardens gone! To break the shock I said “Fire got it; see the black on the stones.” Walking slow like a couple of crooked old men, we stepped on to the stone foundation, look down to the cellar bottom. Sapling trees grew in the middle of a water puddle. Saw a flash of green light in the puddle; it wasn’t water. We slid down on the saplings as firemen do. Saw for sure the green glass mass, melted, broken, scattered. Bill dropped to his knees. I thought for a moment he was going to curse God. His fingers grasped at the black soil, held up for me to see, a chunk of green glass. Billy sobbed, “It was once real, wasn’t it. I saw it in those long nights; saw it with my eyes open wide. It was there, in the air, in the smoke, in flames, in the screams of pain. I want to see it again! “ ”We best go”, said I.

  We made our way back to our car. Bill laid down directly on the gravel. I tried talking to him, he lay still as death. This was the deep depression, I felt it too. I couldn’t let it take me down; I fought it off; tried walking it off. I went about gathering firewood, piling it next to a log, washed up on the river gravel. Went back to Bill, said a few words. I may as well been talking to a rock. I did not know what to do! In desperate frustration, I climbed back up to the stone foundation, picked up a couple pieces of the glass. Searching for something I knew not what, anything that might tell me more, proof of what may have happened. Built a fire, made coffee. Walked over to Bill, said, ”How about a cup of coffee Billy”. I didn’t know what else to say. Thought maybe I could concoct a believable story. “Lightning might have struck it. Doc could not been able to build another. He probably decided to move to some place that was easier to get to, might have moved to town or the city.” This had gotten through; he stood up, walked to the fire. I handed him a cup of coffee. Finally he says. “You think that is all that happened. I was thinking the worse.”

  What happened next was the worst ! At first I thought we was seeing otters floating down with the current. Two shapes stood up. Walking toward us came two young devils, naked as angels. Walked right up to our fire, sat down on the log. One said, “We was swimming.” I said, “‘Want to eat a donut “”No, just came to say howdy.” Going fishing are you? “. The tallest one looked to be ten, the little one seven or eight. I ask, “What are your names? “Tallest boy answers, “He’s Cecil, I’m Leroy. Flat out I asked,” Did that house on the top get burned down by lightning?” Leroy speaks, “Nope, it was burned down on purpose. “ “What happened to the fellow that lived there?” “He got burned up too!!! “. Bill let out a whimper!

  I shouldn’t have continued!!! Who burned it down? “ Leroy says. “ The men in hoods, cause they said he was evil.” Cecil sobbed. Leroy yells, “Stop your balling; he was bad. Cecil cries out. “He helped me get born “ Leroy then says, “Folks said he had Satan’s power; he would do things only God should do. He said people can be cured without God’s help” Then admits, “He cured my fever!” Both boys began sobbing.

  Bill stood, yelled, a madman’s scream, arms up in the air, ran around in circles, flopped and rolled on the ground shaking with convulsions. The boys ran to the river, swam down with the current. I did not know what to do. I covered him with a blanket. Fearing to let Billy see me, I walked off away to cry; cried till drained of tears.

  Returned to the campfire, sat on the log and tried to sort things out. I wanted to get away from here fast, never come back, never! Could we too be in danger? Must go before night. How to get Bill to move. Went over to him again, said we ought to pack up. He still lay. I pour water on the fire. Sun dropped behind the hills, dark came fast. Cold air drops in to the valley, mist forms. Are we now to be trapped by fog? Got to jolt him up. Walk over to where he lay, squat down next to him. Say “Lazy” we best be going.” Then with a worried tone add, “I think we are being watched.” He sits up on his haunches, but does not stand up. Again I say. “We got to be going This fog is going to trapped us in.” No response! I go back to our car, fiddle around with things. Go back to Bill, say, “I heard footsteps in the gravel.” I shout! “Look! Look!” Two green eyes light up the haze, staring directly at us. The river mist glows green! Our headlights are the green eyed beast. Bill stands paralyzed. Nothing moved, no one, nothing. I yelled out, no answer. Instinct should have told him to run, instead the green lights lured. Together we approached the car. Walked around the car from a distance, crept closer. Nothing! Stared at the headlights; a sheet of melted green glass covered each lamp. Bill shouts “It is the light of the green window”. Bills said it, not I, “We have been chosen ! “

  With him teetering on the edge, I dare not reveal my prank. Slyly, I managed to slip the fishing line off the headlight pull switch, letting it drop to the ground; trapping myself in Bill’s leap of faith.

  How things brew in the heads of men I cannot say, but I say, at that moment our two minds locked together as one. We would become Doc’s disciples.

  PART THREE - IMMORTALITY

  We were floating on air, minds locked, ready to save the world. Doing what? We weren’t saints, though we had the fervor. We weren’t trying to get a place ready in Heaven. We just wanted to help out people in trouble, as Doc had been doing. I asked, “ So are we going to be do-gooders, help old ladies across the street; knock on doors asking people for money for the poor; taking off our coats, throwing them in the mud, so the ladies don’t get their shoes dirty ? Bill replies back, “I’m not throwing my coat in the mud; I might carry them across if their cute. “

  “Here’s what I been thinking; we can’t just sit outside banks waiting for hold up men to show. My idea is that when we come across trouble along the highways, we stop to help. Do what we are best at doing. I’m good mechanically, you’re the wiry one, you can wiggle under autos; tie up sagging mufflers and tail pipes, even put on snow chains for stuck cars.” Bill questioned how much free service we would provide. “Do we stop to give hitch hikers a ride? “Not if their just traveling, if we see their standing in the freezing rain we’d give them a lift.”

  “Now as I see it we’re to be like the Lone ranger and Tonto. Which you want to be?“

  ” I got be Tonto because I’m half Indian.”

  “You’re half Indian? Your hair is blond, your eyes are blue, what tribe is that!”

  “My fathers, he was pure Cherokee; that is my real father from the Carolina tribe, one of the last of his tribe still living there. My mom was not exactly married to him when I was born, besides the law would not allow them to be married because they were mixed blood. Later on my mom married a preacher so I could be adopted. His name was Williams; my mom made me take that name when she married my stepfather. I told her it was a dumb idea since my first name was already William.”

  There usually was trouble to be found on every drive, not every trouble was the kind you’d call desperate. There was a convertible with its roof stuck down in the winter, fan belt broken, radiator boiling, that sort. We thought we would be rescuing lots of dames in distress; instead it was more often boys that needed rescuing. Like the one that had climbed up a cliff and couldn’t get himself down; Bill, using his climbing skills was the hero. It was a dangerous rescue. He loved being the hero. Then there was the young fellow standing on the bridge rail, thinking if he should make the plunge into eternity. Bill did the rescue work, only he didn’t use climbing gear. He himself was once close to going over the edge; he knew what was needed to save him.

  Any how one time we certainly did rescue some dames in distress. In the heat of August, we came up to a car parked on the shoulder, there was two young gals waving handkerchiefs, I drove on pass. Bill asked me why I didn’t pull over. I said I saw they were colored. Bill says, where in our rule book says we don’t help colored people? I say, “Guess you’re right.” I make a U-turn. As soon as we get back to the auto I notice a huge puddle of oil underneath, they have dropped their oil pan. The gals coming running up to our car and say, “We thought it was going to blow up.” “You aren’t going to blow up, but we aren’t going to be able to fix that on the highway.”

  “We don’t expect you to fix it, can you go send us a tow truck.” Bill says,” We best take you to the nearest garage; not good for two young ladies to be standing alone on the road.” Were’ not alone, my mama is in the car too. Sitting in the auto is their mama, big woman. I sized up the situation, “I think we can all squeeze in.” Big mama gets in the front taking more than her share of the seat. The girls climb in the back. Bill slides in after the first one climbs in so that he’d be sitting in the middle. Mama is fanning away with a church fan. Looking in the rear mirror, I see that Bills got his arms around both of them, then slides it down to a hug. Mamas talking about the heat, nothing is being said in the back seat. I drive on, hoping the next town would be coming along. As soon as I reach a town, I stop a fellow on the street; ask him who has tow service. Tells me turn right on Adam, first place on the corner is the garage. Find it, pull in. As I am helping mama scoot out, the girls get out on their sides. Bill climbs out, has a few words with them, then I notice they give both give him a kiss, then he kisses them.

  Once on the road I sat silent. Bill asks, “You jealous cause big mama didn’t give you a kiss? “

  I said “Don’t you have any decency.” He shot back, “Is it decency or is it color you’re bothered by? I say to him,” It was a family group, you said we were protecting them.” “ We did protect them; they were grateful, showed it with a little affection, that’s all. You won’t admit it, but it was because you don’t like colored people. Soon I would have to prove myself!

  BROWN BOY WITH GREEN EYES

  After a few month experiences as the Roaming Rangers, we came to learn that every car on the shoulder did not need our service. To show you what I mean, early one evening we came on a car, motor idling, a man sitting at the wheel. Bill guessed it might be a drunk that had pulled over to sleep off the booze. Turned out to be young lovers, smooching, entwined together. Bill tapped on the window, the boy shoved the girl off, and spun off without a howdy. Another time we stopped for a car with a man standing on the shoulder. Asked,” Can we help you? “He said, “Not unless you want to hold it for me “. He was just relieving himself.

  Most real troubles were dead batteries, flat tires and running out of gas. Dead batteries required a push to get them rolling, then pop the clutch to get them started. Sometimes we did this for the ladies own auto. So common were flat tires that we did not stop to help every car with a flat. If a quick check proved that the person with the flat can handle it themselves, we passed on. Let them have the chance to learn a new skill. Running out of gas, befuddled me. Didn’t the driver keep an eye on the gas gauge needle on the dash? We’d give them a gallon of gas that we carried in our car. Then there were those people that took us to be a kind of free taxi service. Say we would stop to offer our help for a stalled automobile. See that it can’t be fixed on the spot; then they would ask, almost insist, they be driven home, which might be thirty miles back. Did this a few times, after that decided no more; instead take them to the nearest telephone booth or garage.

  We had finished up a Saturday of routine rescues, as we headed back to home base, cruising along a two lane blacktop, we passed a car on the shoulder, no lights on, not in apparent trouble. Then Bill shouts “Hold it, I think I saw a little dog. Rather reluctantly, go back for a dog; I made the U-turn, again U-turned in back of the parked car. Even with the green headlamps on, we could not certain what we saw, but were able to make out a dim light. Got out to walk closer. There stood a tiny kid waving a dim flashlight. His face so black that all that was visible were his two eyes reflecting the green light. I knelt to him, “What’s wrong?” He pointed towards the side of the auto. Lit by my flashlight, I made out a body on the ground. I knelt, checked quickly for blood, then breathing; he was breathing .Next noticed a car jack and the spare by the car. Come to the quick conclusion, he over exerted himself, had a heart attack. “He’s breathing,” I said to Billy, “We best take him to the hospital; I think the town is big enough to have one.”

  To the boy” Your daddy is sick we ‘re going to take him to the doctor, you go with us too.” He is a heavy man, we sit him on the back seat slumped over, the boy up front between us, sits in silence, shaking. The dim flashlight tells us the little boy had been standing there a long time.

  As we enter the town, a sign on the road points to “hospital”. Bill ran to the emergency door, in seconds, two hospital men came out, carried the poor fellow inside. I carried the boy in. A nurse right off, began asking us questions. I said check see if he has his wallet in his trousers. It was there with his name, address and phone. They called, talked to his wife. She said she couldn’t get to the hospital, he had their auto. Bill volunteered to get her. I sat in a waiting room with the boy. I ask him his name. His said his name was Cerny. Goes on to say that his daddy told him go wave the flash light, get a car to stop. This little lad must have waving that flash light for hours judging by how dim it was. I told him, “You did good “. A nurse came to take the boy. He caught my arm and held on crying. Told the nurse, I’ll sit with him tell his mama can take him. His big brown eyes looked so scared that I sat him on my lap.

  When Bill returned, a nurse takes the mother direct to see the doctor. Bill sits with us. This scared little boy looked up and says to me, “If my daddy dies will you be my pawpaw?

  How could I say no to those sad eyes? I said, “I sure will.”

  Towards morning the mother walks back in.. Mama picked up her boy, hugged him tight. She explains to us. ”The doctor said, Daddy is going be all right, it was not his heart. His blood sugar had dropped too low.” She turned to Bill, hugged him, thanks him over and over. Comes to me, hugs me, and thanks me! Outside, on the road, Bill says, teasing like “You promised to be a little chocolate boy’s grandpa and you ain’t even a paw yet.” I said, “I sure meant it!”

 

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