fling it to brain him.
M.C. was on his knees, reaching for the light beside him. Out of the darkness, she kicked it away. Next, she had it and was running away.
“Didn’t want to hurt you, I had to!” he yelled.
He saw the light swing over the lip of the gully. It caught Ben standing with his arms out from his sides. Rabbit flushed and blinded. The light was beamed back into the gully as though propelled and floated past M.C.
He heard her voice high and hard, with no whine in it: “You bother me ever again and I’ll cut your heart out.”
“I was only playing!” he called out. “You hear? You, girl? But you would’ve killed me! ”
He watched the light fade away in the trees, westward. Knowledge of how easy it was to hurt somebody, or be hurt, sobered him.
I used my head, he thought. But if I hadn’t of grabbed her—I was just playing. I was.
He heard sound coming near.
“Ben?” he said.
“ They’re coming. ”
“Who is? Hey, Ben?” But there was no answer.
He heard voices and recognized them. They were at the gully edge.
“Daddy,” M.C. said.
A pause before his father said, “Who would have killed you? I heard you yell it. Who?”
M.C. couldn’t see any one of them. He got to his feet, brushing his pants. His head ached where the girl had kicked him. He wouldn’t touch it for fear it was cracked.
“Scared somebody,” he managed to say.
“What were you doing off of that mountain, anyway?” Jones asked. He came into the gully with the others following.
“Mama?” M.C. said.
“Right here,” Banina said. Just her voice made M.C. glad they were all together.
“I say, what were you doing down here?” Jones asked him.
“Coming to meet you all,” M.C. lied. “I ran into some . . . some stranger.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Jones said.
“Let me lead,” M.C. said suddenly. “There’s no light at the house.”
“I can lead,” Jones said, but he made no move. “Why were you yelling bloody murder?”
M.C. kept his breathing steady in the dark. “It hit me on the head. I guess I scared him. But when it hit me I got mad and yelled. I can lead,” he said again and started out of the gully.
Jones said no more. M.C. hoped his silence meant he was satisfied. All of them walked single file on up the path M.C. felt with his feet. His mother, Banina, walked just behind him and to the side, with the children coming on behind her and in front of Jones. M.C. heard a sound like paper crackling and knew his mother must be carrying something.
“You want me to handle that bag?” he said.
“Just some noodles and milk, I can manage,” she said. “M.C., do you know who it was?” Talking about the stranger with the light.
“No,” M.C. said softly. He was listening and feeling. Someone was stalking them. Off the path a ways, it was Ben who moved when M.C. moved. M.C. could feel him there, keeping pace with the rhythm of his climb. And he felt a little easier inside, where the girl worried him.
“People always do come into these hills,” his mother was saying, as though they had been talking the whole day. “For years people wander in and out again. We don’t have to do anything. We don’t have to call, they just come.”
“The dude has come,” M.C. told her.
“I heard,” she said. She laughed. “Jones says he’s come to hear me sing.”
“Come to take you out of here to make records. You have to get Daddy to leave,” he said.
“M.C., don’t you bother him about leaving,” Banina said.
“Mama.” They were near the outcropping. M.C. had to make her see before they got home and the dude came to hear her.
“You don’t know,” Banina was saying. “You don’t understand all of it.”
“It’s not just me saying it,” M.C. told her. “The dude, he says it. He says the spoil is coming down right now, an inch at a time. We have to get out of here.”
Whispering at him, she said, “Do you think that pole is just for you?” In the sound of
M.C. was on his knees, reaching for the light beside him. Out of the darkness, she kicked it away. Next, she had it and was running away.
“Didn’t want to hurt you, I had to!” he yelled.
He saw the light swing over the lip of the gully. It caught Ben standing with his arms out from his sides. Rabbit flushed and blinded. The light was beamed back into the gully as though propelled and floated past M.C.
He heard her voice high and hard, with no whine in it: “You bother me ever again and I’ll cut your heart out.”
“I was only playing!” he called out. “You hear? You, girl? But you would’ve killed me! ”
He watched the light fade away in the trees, westward. Knowledge of how easy it was to hurt somebody, or be hurt, sobered him.
I used my head, he thought. But if I hadn’t of grabbed her—I was just playing. I was.
He heard sound coming near.
“Ben?” he said.
“ They’re coming. ”
“Who is? Hey, Ben?” But there was no answer.
He heard voices and recognized them. They were at the gully edge.
“Daddy,” M.C. said.
A pause before his father said, “Who would have killed you? I heard you yell it. Who?”
M.C. couldn’t see any one of them. He got to his feet, brushing his pants. His head ached where the girl had kicked him. He wouldn’t touch it for fear it was cracked.
“Scared somebody,” he managed to say.
“What were you doing off of that mountain, anyway?” Jones asked. He came into the gully with the others following.
“Mama?” M.C. said.
“Right here,” Banina said. Just her voice made M.C. glad they were all together.
“I say, what were you doing down here?” Jones asked him.
“Coming to meet you all,” M.C. lied. “I ran into some . . . some stranger.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Jones said.
“Let me lead,” M.C. said suddenly. “There’s no light at the house.”
“I can lead,” Jones said, but he made no move. “Why were you yelling bloody murder?”
M.C. kept his breathing steady in the dark. “It hit me on the head. I guess I scared him. But when it hit me I got mad and yelled. I can lead,” he said again and started out of the gully.
Jones said no more. M.C. hoped his silence meant he was satisfied. All of them walked single file on up the path M.C. felt with his feet. His mother, Banina, walked just behind him and to the side, with the children coming on behind her and in front of Jones. M.C. heard a sound like paper crackling and knew his mother must be carrying something.
“You want me to handle that bag?” he said.
“Just some noodles and milk, I can manage,” she said. “M.C., do you know who it was?” Talking about the stranger with the light.
“No,” M.C. said softly. He was listening and feeling. Someone was stalking them. Off the path a ways, it was Ben who moved when M.C. moved. M.C. could feel him there, keeping pace with the rhythm of his climb. And he felt a little easier inside, where the girl worried him.
“People always do come into these hills,” his mother was saying, as though they had been talking the whole day. “For years people wander in and out again. We don’t have to do anything. We don’t have to call, they just come.”
“The dude has come,” M.C. told her.
“I heard,” she said. She laughed. “Jones says he’s come to hear me sing.”
“Come to take you out of here to make records. You have to get Daddy to leave,” he said.
“M.C., don’t you bother him about leaving,” Banina said.
“Mama.” They were near the outcropping. M.C. had to make her see before they got home and the dude came to hear her.
“You don’t know,” Banina was saying. “You don’t understand all of it.”
“It’s not just me saying it,” M.C. told her. “The dude, he says it. He says the spoil is coming down right now, an inch at a time. We have to get out of here.”
Whispering at him, she said, “Do you think that pole is just for you?” In the sound of
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