Scratch, page 9
“’Bout time,” he yelled when he saw Joe. “Come on, get a move on. We gotta eat miles this morning.” He sipped coffee from a Styrofoam cup, then took a bite from a day-old glazed donut. Joe ran to the passenger’s side and opened the heavy door. He threw his stuff on the cracked vinyl seat and hauled himself in. The radio was tuned to the local Country station and Tim McGraw was belting out his latest chart-topper. Joe frowned. Not only didn’t he like Country music, but Elmer was also more hard of hearing than he liked to admit. Tim McGraw was really fucking loud.
“You all ready, then?” Elmer said over the music.
“Yep,” Joe answered.
“What?”
“I said, YEAH!” The long day had begun.
He didn’t know it was going to be his last.
The truck roared up town hill onto High Street, then backfired its way down Morrison until it crossed the bridge at Water Street and was out of Appleton. Elmer had checked his maps this morning and decided that the interstate only took them farther away from where they wanted to be. The two lane state roads had slower speed limits, but were a more direct route. The way he figured it, the two would even out.
Sixteen miles later they crossed the Mason-Dixon line into West Virginia at White’s Ford. Joe had already finished his Twinkies and Elmer needed a bathroom break. Less than an hour later he needed another one, and just stopped and pissed along the side of the road.
The hills lengthened into mountains, and the truck alternated between painfully slow ascents in its lowest gear and shaky descents with the carburetor farting its protest all the way down. Joe wondered when the brakes had last been checked. He figured as long as he could smell the hot metal they would hold.
Spring was trying on her new dresses earlier here than in Appleton. The hillsides were clad in trees, each proudly displaying its newly opened buds. The first flowers were peeking out from under the ground cover, checking to see if it was safe to come out. Groundhogs scampered across the road, shed of their winter fat. Robins gathered material for their nests, pausing to dine on the occasional worm the night’s rain had brought out.
Elmer and Joe didn’t notice any of it.
By early afternoon they chugged to the top of one last steep hill. Joe thought he was going to have to get out and push, but just as the truck seemed about to breathe its last, the road leveled out. A wide lush valley, bounded on all sides by steep green mountains, spread before them. They could see a small village tucked at the head of the valley.
“That outta be Canaan,” Elmer said. “Leastways, that’s what the map says.”
“Thought we’d never get here,” Joe grumbled.
“Ain’t there yet, either.” Elmer touched the gas. The truck sputtered and lurched forward.
The road crept down into the valley in a series of sharp switchbacks. The truck swayed from side to side. Joe just knew it was going to tip and spill them over the steep embankment, but Elmer held steady until they eventually came to the bottom.
The road was narrower here, so much so that there wouldn’t be room if another vehicle came from the other direction. They drove parallel to a creek for two miles, its water high from the recently melted winter snow.
They stopped at a covered bridge.
“Ah shit!” Elmer spit a wet chunk of his cigar on the floor. “I don’t think we can get through that.” The door handle creaked as he yanked it up, then he swung his legs out and dropped to the broken blacktop road. Joe got out on his side. They walked forward to inspect the bridge.
It was the kind of bridge that looked quaint when they appeared in Americana calendars and art prints. To Elmer it was just an obstacle. It was one lane only, the floor made of narrow wooden planks, hard and gray with age. Some of them were warped at the edges, pulling loose the rusty nails that held them. A peaked roof covered the span.
Elmer and Joe stood back and looked at the aperture. They turned and looked back at the truck, then back at the bridge. Elmer worried his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other, then back again as he studied the situation.
“Well,” said Elmer after a while. He hawked up some phlegm and spat it in the dust at the side of the road. “I reckon she’ll fit. I make that roof to be about twelve feet high, and the truck ain’t but ten or so.”
“If you say so,” Joe said. “Looks pretty tight to me.”
“Ain’t none of ‘em as tight as you’d like ‘em to be,” Elmer said, then winked at Joe. “If ya’ get my drift.” He walked forward to the edge of the bridge.
“Next question,” he as he stepped into the shady interior, “is will she take the load?” The boards creaked under his weight, but the bridge felt solid.
“It’s the only way up there,” Joe said. “The map says that except for a couple of long dirt roads that goes up into the hollows, the main road dead-ends right at Canaan. They must have cars up there. The bridge gotta hold them, don’t it?”
“Cars, maybe,” Elmer said, bouncing his weight on a groaning plank. “I don’t think we should trust it to take the truck.”
“But…”
“You wanna end up in the creek?” Elmer said. “’Cause I think that’s where we’ll be if we try to drive across.”
“So now what?”
“I’m thinking,” Elmer said. “I reckon we just take part of the load off, drive the truck across, then carry the pieces over and reload it.”
“Aw, shit.” Joe groaned and kicked at the gravel.
* * * * *
scratch scratch
A flare of anger from a new source woke Scratch from his slumber. It was a small thing, little more than a minor frustration. But it was new, and little sparks could become great big fires.
Besides, Scratch was hungry. He always was when he first woke up. His mind lifted from his body and went to investigate.
Joe unlocked the back door of the truck and hauled himself up into the dark bed. He was just picking up the first box and swearing to himself when he heard wheels passing slowly over the blacktop on the other side of the bridge. He looked around the doorjamb and saw a red and white 1961 Ford truck ambling toward them.
It pulled over on the berm of the road and with a sputter, the engine stopped. The door opened and a bluetick coonhound jumped out onto the ground and shook.
“Settle down, Blue,” said the old man who followed the dog. He slammed the truck door shut, stuck an unlit pipe in his mouth, and moseyed through the bridge.
“You know,” he said as he eyed the truck, “I was sitting down at the store waiting on you fellas, when it suddenly hit me that you might have some trouble here. Looks like I was right.
“Jack Hardy,” he said, and extended his hand to Elmer. Blue sniffed around their feet, then found an inviting bush to pee on.
“Elmer,” Elmer said while shaking Jack’s hand. “That’s Joe up there in the truck.”
“I assume this is Holly’s stuff in the truck?” Jack said.
“I think that was the lady’s name,” Elmer said. “Carol Evans hired us.”
“Caroline,” Jack said. “Yep, that’s the stuff. I have the key to the house, but it looks like we have us a small problem here.”
“I don’t think the bridge will hold us,” Elmer explained.
“Neither do I,” Jack said. “Tell you what… unload some of those boxes into my truck. I’ll back her up over here so you don’t have to carry it as far. Then I’ll drive one of you up to Canaan and enlist some help. Jim’s got a truck, and I told him you might need help. Larry Miller was hanging around. He’ll come along. Ed was there. He won’t want to help, but he will. Just ignore his bitching ‘bout everything. It’s just sorta his way.”
“That’s mighty nice of you,” Elmer said. “It’s already been a long day.”
“Once we get a bunch of the heavy stuff off of there,” Jack said, “you oughta be able to get the truck across. Drive it on up to the house so you don’t have to worry about a ride back here when you’re done.”
“Day’s passing,” Elmer said. “Joe, start grabbing boxes.”
They spent half an hour transferring stuff to Jack’s truck. Once it was full, Jack and Blue climbed into the cab. The truck started smoothly. Elmer got in the passengers side, and they pulled away from the bridge and headed for Canaan. Joe sat on the stone foundation of the bridge, dangling his legs over the creek. He unwrapped his second peanut butter and jelly sandwich and waited for them to return.
It was another three miles to Canaan. The village squatted at the foot of the mountain that was the eastern wall of the valley. It was a small community consisting of a couple dozen houses clustered along the edge of the narrow road. The road ended at a wooden footbridge that crossed the little stream that flowed into the larger creek Jack and Elmer had followed. On the other side, sitting at the head of the table that was Canaan, was the First Church of the Blessed Angel. A general store and a laundromat faced each other across the street at the footbridge.
Jack pulled in front of the store and turned the truck off. Silently, he got out and went inside. Elmer followed, as did Blue.
Three men sat around a table in the front of the store. Elmer assumed these were the men Jack had told him about. There were open bottles of cola and full ashtrays arrayed around them. A teenage girl stood behind the counter. She looked up briefly when they came in, then turned back to the issue of Glamour she was reading.
“Didn’t fit?” said the largest of the men.
“It fit, Jim,” Jack said. “Didn’t think it would hold it, though.”
“Let me get my truck,” Jim said, standing as he did so. “Come on, Larry, you can ride with me. Ed, your old car oughta hold a few boxes, so come on.”
“Shit, Jim,” Ed said, and wiped a greasy mass of dark hair out of his eyes. “I’m busy this afternoon.”
“You sure are,” Jim smiled. “Busy helping this nice gentlemen get the new neighbors stuff unloaded. Come on.
“Shelley?” he said to the girl behind the counter. “You gonna be all right here?”
“Yes,” she said, the world-weary arrogance of youth in her voice. “I think I can handle the thousands of customers we’re gonna get while you’re out.”
“I hope you’re right, girl,” Jim said with a smile. “Think you can close up for this evening? Raz wants me over at the church early for the service tonight.”
“No problem,” Shelley said. “I’m not going tonight anyway.”
“That’ll upset your sister,” Jim said.
“Like everything else I do these days,” Shelley countered, then turned back to her magazine.
* * * * *
scratch scratch
Shelley was becoming one of Scratch’s favorites. Her adolescent emotions raged at the surface. Her love for Jim, her envy of her sister and her anger at both of them, was raw. She wanted Jim, and felt used when she had him. She wasn’t sure if sex with him in the back room of the store was because she liked it, or just to have something that April did.
She was becoming easier for Scratch to manipulate. She was a tasty morsel now. With a little work, she could provide him with many meals.
* * * * *
With all the help, the transfer of boxes went quickly. Smaller ones were placed in Ed’s old Buick, while the heaviest items were carried over the bridge and loaded onto Jim’s truck. When there were only a few things left on Elmer’s truck, Joe started it up and slowly crept through the covered bridge. The boards rattled and screamed their protest, but they held.
Joe followed Jim and Ed into Canaan. They stopped at the store and Jim treated Joe to a cold Pepsi before they went on to the house. Shelley flirted with Joe shamelessly, with occasional glances to see how Jim was reacting. Joe flirted back. Shelley was attractive, and exuded a casual sexuality, just like Mona before the baby. He was unaware of the dark look Jim gave him.
One dirt road led up the hollow out of Canaan. Joe eased the truck over the rutted ground. They passed a couple of houses and trailers, as well as Ed’s Garage. He had to gear down as the road began to wend uphill. Several dirt roads, some little more than a thin path through the woods, branched off from the one Joe was on. They all had signs that read “Dead End.”
The Porter house sat on a steep bank on the right side of the road. It was a large, three-story Victorian, with a massive front porch that perched over the yard. There was a fruit cellar built into the bank next to the house, and a barn on the other side of the road.
Joe parked the truck in front of the barn. He groaned as he looked up over the hillside that was the yard. There was going to be a lot of lifting and hauling to get the stuff in the house. He rolled his eyes in anticipation and got out of the truck.
The residents of Canaan stuck around to help, and while that made everything go more smoothly, there was still a lot of work to do. Since the old house was furnished with Grandma Dora’s furniture, most of the heavier items were stored in the barn. They were placed on top of boards on sawhorses to keep them off the ground, and then wrapped in plastic and tarp to protect them from the elements and rodents. It was easier than carrying the stuff up the hill to the house, but it was time consuming.
Even with a lot of people helping the many trips became tiresome. They tried to set up a bucket brigade strategy, so that no one had to make the whole trip, but it quickly fell apart and they each resumed making multiple hikes back and forth.
They slipped into the easy camaraderie of men who work together on a task. They swore and told dirty jokes, and laughed easily, and belched and farted out loud. They ragged each other in the age-old tradition of masculine one-upmanship, challenging each other’s manhood and parentage. Tempers flared, and cooled, and each did his part to achieve their goal.
Around five pm, April Toland and Larry’s wife Sue brought a basket full of food and insisted they all take a break. They sat on the porch and dined on cold chicken, potato salad, and Sue’s famous homemade buns. For dessert there was a raisin-filled pie. Blue gorged on what was dropped.
Scratch waited his turn to dine.
When the women left Jim broke out a couple of six packs and passed the cans around. The belching and farting resumed.
The sun was starting to disappear behind the western hills when Jim reminded everyone that the church service would start soon, and that he had to go. Jack, Ed, and Larry were going as well. There were a few last minute details that Elmer and Joe needed to take care of before they left.
“That’s okay,” Jack said. “Just lock her up when you’re done. I’ll be at the church, but you can drop the key off at the store on your way out of town.”
“Yeah,” Jim said. “Shelley should still be there. Good working with you guys.” He stuck his big hand out and shook with both Elmer and Joe. “You guys be careful on your way out of here. These roads can be tricky at night. Watch out for deer.”
“Thanks for all your help,” Elmer said. He and Joe stood by the truck and watched the others drive away. “Well,” he said when they were out of sight, “let’s get this finished. It’s gonna be midnight or later before we get back to Appleton.”
“Mona’s gonna be pissed,” Joe said. “And today I actually was working late.”
They took the few remaining boxes to the house and made one last sweep to make sure everything had been put where Holly wanted it. Elmer turned out the lights and locked the heavy oak door. The last light was fading as they walked down the hill to the truck.
“Shit!” Elmer said as soon as the truck was running.
“What?”
“Gas is low. Not empty, but it’s a long way out of this hollow before we get anywhere to get some. I didn’t see any pumps at the store, did you?”
“No.”
“Somebody around here’s gotta have some,” Elmer said. “They got cars. They surely don’t make a thirty mile trip every time they need to fill up, do they?”
“I dunno,” Joe said. “We can ask at the store when we leave the key. Maybe we can siphon enough to get us out of here.”
“Shit.” Elmer put the truck in gear. “Something else to make us late. Hope you’re up for driving some. I’m getting tired.”
It took several tries to turn the truck around on the narrow road. Joe was sure they were going to back into the barn, or get stuck in the ditch, but eventually they were on their way back down the hollow. The truck, now completely empty of its load, bounced and rattled over the ruts.
They stopped at Ed’s Garage, hoping to find gasoline, but no one was there. The trailer was dark as well. That was true of every one of the few houses they passed. Apparently everyone around Canaan went to church tonight.
They would have to hope that Shelley was still at the store.
* * * * *
Shelley Tanner was not in the store. Not long after everyone had left for the church service she had gone outside and climbed the steps along the side of the building to Jim’s second floor apartment. The door was unlocked, as she knew it would be. She glanced around quickly to make sure no one was watching, and then slipped inside.
The apartment was small and utilitarian, decorated with the casual mess of the life-long bachelor. The living room had a well-worn couch and one mismatched chair, a small television, and a cassette tape player. A kitchenette looked out over the front street. Shelley could see the roof of the Laundromat. The refrigerator had beer and TV dinners in it, and little else. The sink was full of dishes, nonetheless.
Shelley crept through the dark into the small bedroom at the back of the apartment. Her heart raced as she stepped inside. The bed was unmade, and she could see stains on the sheets. She had never been here with him, but April certainly had been. Shelley felt the knot of jealousy tighten in her gut.
scratch scratch
They laugh at you, you know, Scratch whispered in her mind. They think you’re a silly little girl. They lay here, covered in each other’s sweat, and he tells her how you suck him off. Not as good as her, of course.
