Тэлмидж Пауэлл: Manhunt. Volume 5, Number 1, January, 1957

“We want some too,” the four young men behind the yellow-haired one sang. “We want a lit-tul bit of ev-ry-thing. We’re hungy!”

“Hungy,” Linda echoed.

“What?” Harper said, managing to swallow.

“Hungy,” they sang. “We hungy, daddio.”

Julia did not move, kneeling there on the blanket.

The yellow-haired one came around beside Julia and knelt on one knee and flung his arms wide. His sunburn was very bright. “Will you feed us, you sweet little darling? I wouldn’t ask your old man, ’cause I know he’s mean.” He lowered his voice. “But I’d ask you, baby.” He stood up and looked across the blanket at the others. “Wouldn’t you ask her?” he called.

“We’d ask that baby anything,” they chorused. “We think she’s the nuts.”

Harper stood there. He moved toward them, then stopped. “What?” he said. “Get out of here. What are you doing? You hear me?”

“Please,” Julia said to the yellow-haired one. “Go away — leave us alone. Can’t you see—?”

“She says can’t we see?” the yellow-haired one said. His face had changed. He leered down at her. They all ran over beside her. “She’s cra-a-a-azy!” one yelled.

Harper grabbed at a chunky fellow wearing dark blue shorts and an open white shirt. The chunky fellow didn’t even look at Harper — he just shoved. Harper reeled violently backwards and fell flat.

“We see you, baby,” they chorused, circling Julia.

“We dig you, too,” the yellow-haired one said.

Linda giggled and pulled at the chunky one’s shoe. He reached down and patted her head. A red-haired youth saw him do it, and moved behind Julia and reached down and smoothed her hair. He snarled both hands in her hair and slowly bent her head back, until she was looking up at him. He leaned close to her and licked his lips.

The yellow-haired one knelt on the blanket. “Look,” he said. “Look at all the crazy food.” He unwrapped a sandwich. “Chicken sandwiches.” He smelled of it, tossed it over his shoulder. He grabbed a handful of olives and threw them up into the air. “Olives,” he said. He began to grab everything in sight, one thing at a time, naming it, then throwing it into the air. “Chocolate cake! Zoom! Orange! Ham sandwich! Zoom — zoom! Celery — look at that crazy celery! Peanut butter!” The jar smashed against a tree. They all began grabbing food and throwing it into the air.

Harper moved toward the yellow-haired one with his hands held out, saying words. The youth picked up the thermos of lemonade. It was open. He sniffed at the opening. “Have you had any of this?” he asked Harper.

“I’ll get the cops,” Harper said. He shouted, “You hear me? Get out of here and let us alone!”

“Fighting spirit,” one of them said.

“He’s a gone cat,” another said.

“Real gone.”

“He’s dead.”

“He don’t like us.”

“Shame.”

“He looks mean.”

“Looks and is, two different things.”

“He sure ain’t is.”

“Man, you’re frozen solid.”

“Crazy.”

“Wait,” the yellow-haired one said. “He wants some lemonade. He hasn’t had any.”

Three of them grabbed Harper and held him, forced him down to the ground. The yellow-haired one stood above him and poured the lemonade on Harper’s face until the thermos gurgled empty. Harper knelt there, gasping, spraying lemonade.

Julia Harper was on her feet now. “Stop it,” she said. She moved quickly toward her husband. “Did you hear me? You boys, stop it — now!”

The red-haired young man grabbed her around the waist, slapped her bare thigh with the flat of his hand. “We got your message, baby,” he said.

Julia tried to pull away from the red-head. He yanked her to him harshly, holding her against him, held her face and kissed her. She fought and struggled violently in his arms, but he held her very tightly, kissing her.

The yellow-haired one watched Harper. The young man scratched his head, watching Harper. Harper knelt on the ground, his hair hanging down, covered with lemon rinds and blobs of unmelted sugar. There were lemon pits in his hair.

“Stop!” Julia said sharply. She gasped.

“She’s a bomb,” the one who held her said. “A great big, wonderful bomb, I tell you. Wasn’t I right?”

Harper started to get up.

The yellow-haired one said, “You do what you’re thinking and I’ll smash your head in.” Then he said. “You weren’t going to do anything, anyways — were you?”

Harper looked at him, and that was all.

The yellow-haired one said, “My great Jesus Christ. This big man sure scares.”

Linda ran around on the blanket, then began to cry.

The yellow-haired one dropped the gallon thermos and called out, “Billy. Take care of the kid. You got the duty.”

“Please!” Julia said.

“She told me ‘please’,” the redhead said. “Wow!”

Harper stood up, lemonade-drenched. The yellow-haired youth stared at him. Then he stepped over to Harper and shoved him in the direction of Julia and the redhead. Harper stumbled forward and the chunky fellow in the blue shorts brought his foot up and kicked Harper in the face.

Harper fell down and did not move.

“Take care of him,” the yellow-haired one said. “Tie him to a tree. He’s faking. Hurry up!”

A tall, lanky boy took Linda by the hand and moved quietly over beside the yellow and chrome hotrod, talking to her. “You going to grow up like your mommy?” he asked. “Tell me the truth, are you?” He paused. “ ’Cause if you are, I’ll stand right here and wait.”

Harper came to his feet again. The yellow-haired one turned lithely, stepped up to him and shook his head sadly. Then he set himself with both feet planted flat and wide apart and struck with his right fist so hard Harper flipped and struck the ground like a plank.

“Now, tie him to a tree, like I said.”

Two of them took Harper over to the nearest pine, dragging him along the ground. One ran to the chrome and yellow car and returned with a length of rope. They lifted him to a sitting position and tied him to the tree. He stared groggily, moving his lips — watching his wife, Julia.

“Please, little girl,” the one with Linda said. “Tell me the absolute truth now. Don’t you fib to me. Are you going to grow them,” he made a gesture with both hands near his chest, “like your mama?”

The other four stood in a circle around Julia.

“Dell!” Julia called. “Dell — do something.”

They laughed. “He's faking,” one of them said.

“You’ve got to stop this,” she said, breathing rapidly. She wasn’t crying, but she was close to tears. She stamped her foot. “Go away!” she shouted. “Leave us alone!”

“Oh, crazy!” one of them yelled. “She jiggles!”

“Go ahead and scream your head off,” the yellow-haired one said. “Nobody can hear you, darling. The falls makes too much noise. We know, don’t we guys?”

“We know ev — ry — thing,” they chorused.

“ ’Cause we come to this spot a lot,” the yellow-haired one said.

“What do you want?” Julia said.

“Strip, baby,” the yellow-haired one said. “Just strip, that’s all.”

“What? Dell— Dell!”

“Run, Julia!” Harper shouted. “For God’s sake, run!”

“Strip,” the yellow-haired one said. “Let’s see the goodies.”

“Are — are you crazy?” Julia said in a whisper. She started backing away from them. They were in a circle around her. One of them knocked his knee against her leg.

“Take your clothes off,” the yellow-haired one said. “Or we’ll do it for you. Whichever way you like, honey. We’re going to have a picnic, too — ’cause we got your message.”