These young people keep pretty active some of em. Let’s go up here.
They walked up the road to the turnaround. On the far side they found shoetracks in the mud along the edge of the road. Further down the circle they found more. The sheriff just sort of nodded at them.
What do you reckon, Sheriff? said the deputy.
Why nothin. It could just be where somebody got out to piss. He was looking off down the road. Do you reckon, he said, that if you was to shove a car off from along in here it might get as far as where we’re parked down yonder fore it left the road?
The deputy looked with him. Well, he said. It’s possible. I’d say it might could.
So would I, said the sheriff.
B ALLARD’S NEW SHOES sucked in the mud as he approached the pickup truck. He had the rifle under his arm and the flashlight in his hand. When he got to the truck he opened the door and flicked the light on and trapped in its yellow beam the white faces of a boy and a girl in each other’s arms.
The girl was the first to speak. She said: He’s got a gun.
Ballard’s head was numb. They seemed assembled there the three of them for some purpose other than his. He said: Let’s see your driver’s license.
You ain’t the law, the boy said.
I’ll be the judge of that, said Ballard. What are you all doin up here?
We was just settin here, the girl said. She wore a sprig of gauze ferns at her shoulder with two roses of burgundy crepe.
You was fixin to screw, wasn’t ye? He watched their faces.
You better watch your mouth, the boy said.
You want to make me?
You put down that rifle and I will.
Any time you feel froggy, jump, said Ballard.
The boy reached to the dashboard and turned on the ignition and began to crank the engine.
Quit it, said Ballard.
The engine did not start. The boy had raised his hand as if he would bat at the riflebarrel when Ballard shot him through the neck. He fell sideways into the girl’s lap. She folded her hands and put them under her chin. Oh no, she said.
Ballard levered another shell into the chamber. I told that fool, he said. Didn’t I tell him? I don’t know why people don’t want to listen.
The girl looked at the boy and then she looked up at Ballard. She was holding her hands in the air as if she didn’t know where to put them. She said: What did you have to go and do that for?
It was up to him, said Ballard. I told the idjit.
Oh god, said the girl.
You better get out of there.
What?
Out. Come on out of there.
What are you goin to do?
That’s for me to know and you to find out.
The girl pushed the boy from her and slid across the seat and stepped out into the mud of the road.
Turn around, Ballard said.
What are you goin to do?
Just turn around and never mind.
I have to go to the bathroom, the girl said.
You don’t need to worry about that, said Ballard.
Turning her by the shoulder he laid the muzzle of the rifle at the base of her skull and fired.
She dropped as if the bones in her body had been liquefied. Ballard tried to catch her but she slumped into the mud. He got hold of her dress by the nape to raise her but the material parted in his fist and in the end he had to stand the rifle against the fender of the truck and take her under the arms.
He dragged her through the weeds, walking backwards, watching over his shoulder. Her head was lolling and blood ran down her neck and Ballard had dragged her out of her shoes. He was breathing harshly and his eyeballs were wild and white. He laid her down in the woods not fifty feet from the road and threw himself on her, kissing the still warm mouth and feeling under her clothes. Suddenly he stopped and raised up. He lifted her skirt and looked down at her. She had wet herself. He cursed and pulled down the panties and dabbed at the pale thighs with the hem of the girl’s skirt. He had his trousers about his knees when he heard the truck start.
The sound he made was not unlike the girl’s. A drysucking of air, mute with terror. He
They walked up the road to the turnaround. On the far side they found shoetracks in the mud along the edge of the road. Further down the circle they found more. The sheriff just sort of nodded at them.
What do you reckon, Sheriff? said the deputy.
Why nothin. It could just be where somebody got out to piss. He was looking off down the road. Do you reckon, he said, that if you was to shove a car off from along in here it might get as far as where we’re parked down yonder fore it left the road?
The deputy looked with him. Well, he said. It’s possible. I’d say it might could.
So would I, said the sheriff.
B ALLARD’S NEW SHOES sucked in the mud as he approached the pickup truck. He had the rifle under his arm and the flashlight in his hand. When he got to the truck he opened the door and flicked the light on and trapped in its yellow beam the white faces of a boy and a girl in each other’s arms.
The girl was the first to speak. She said: He’s got a gun.
Ballard’s head was numb. They seemed assembled there the three of them for some purpose other than his. He said: Let’s see your driver’s license.
You ain’t the law, the boy said.
I’ll be the judge of that, said Ballard. What are you all doin up here?
We was just settin here, the girl said. She wore a sprig of gauze ferns at her shoulder with two roses of burgundy crepe.
You was fixin to screw, wasn’t ye? He watched their faces.
You better watch your mouth, the boy said.
You want to make me?
You put down that rifle and I will.
Any time you feel froggy, jump, said Ballard.
The boy reached to the dashboard and turned on the ignition and began to crank the engine.
Quit it, said Ballard.
The engine did not start. The boy had raised his hand as if he would bat at the riflebarrel when Ballard shot him through the neck. He fell sideways into the girl’s lap. She folded her hands and put them under her chin. Oh no, she said.
Ballard levered another shell into the chamber. I told that fool, he said. Didn’t I tell him? I don’t know why people don’t want to listen.
The girl looked at the boy and then she looked up at Ballard. She was holding her hands in the air as if she didn’t know where to put them. She said: What did you have to go and do that for?
It was up to him, said Ballard. I told the idjit.
Oh god, said the girl.
You better get out of there.
What?
Out. Come on out of there.
What are you goin to do?
That’s for me to know and you to find out.
The girl pushed the boy from her and slid across the seat and stepped out into the mud of the road.
Turn around, Ballard said.
What are you goin to do?
Just turn around and never mind.
I have to go to the bathroom, the girl said.
You don’t need to worry about that, said Ballard.
Turning her by the shoulder he laid the muzzle of the rifle at the base of her skull and fired.
She dropped as if the bones in her body had been liquefied. Ballard tried to catch her but she slumped into the mud. He got hold of her dress by the nape to raise her but the material parted in his fist and in the end he had to stand the rifle against the fender of the truck and take her under the arms.
He dragged her through the weeds, walking backwards, watching over his shoulder. Her head was lolling and blood ran down her neck and Ballard had dragged her out of her shoes. He was breathing harshly and his eyeballs were wild and white. He laid her down in the woods not fifty feet from the road and threw himself on her, kissing the still warm mouth and feeling under her clothes. Suddenly he stopped and raised up. He lifted her skirt and looked down at her. She had wet herself. He cursed and pulled down the panties and dabbed at the pale thighs with the hem of the girl’s skirt. He had his trousers about his knees when he heard the truck start.
The sound he made was not unlike the girl’s. A drysucking of air, mute with terror. He
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