Frederick Zackel - Dark Red And Deadly

Lester Rahler said, "Throw the knife as close to my toes as you can."

Mad Dog hefted the knife for balance, then tossed it into the air, catching it after it turned around once in mid-air. Then he leaned forward and threw the knife.

The knife struck an inch from Lester's bare foot and quivered from the power behind his throw.

Lester pulled out the knife and set his foot atop the hole made in the grass. "Good shot, dad!"

"And now it's your turn?"

Lester sank the knife to the hilt beside his father's sandal. "From now on, as your feet get closer together, the game heats up."

Mad Dog tugged out the knife, moved his foot closer to his other one, then tossed the knife. The knife landed a fraction of an inch from his father's other foot.

Mad Dog was growing skeptical. "Lester—? What's to keep the other guy from sticking the knife in your foot?"

Lester said, "You get to use the knife next."

"How do you know when you've won?"

"When he flinches, you win."

Mad Dog started to laugh. "You gotta be outa your fucking mind to be playing this!"

Lester frowned, juggling the knife. "Dad, don't say that."

"Why don't you just stick the guy, son? It's quicker."

"You're not trying to stick the guy!"

Mad Dog stiffened. "Shut up, Lester!"

"Daddy, don't tell me to shut up!"

"Helicopters!" Mad Dog said, warning him.

Mad Dog and Lester ran across the ridge to the trees. The growing rumble of approaching helicopters was behind them.

Their trucks were both parked beneath the trees, and their belongings were scattered around the trucks.

Mad Dog grabbed his portable color TV from atop his truck and threw it inside. He took out a shotgun and made sure it was loaded. Lester already had his shotgun racked and aimed at the sky.

Two helicopters were headed their way, noisy as motorcycles without mufflers. The choppers came quickly, then passed overhead, flying off towards the mountains, both painted in bumblebee colors, the word Sheriff in white letters on either flank.

Lester and Mad Dog watched them fly away.

Mad Dog lowered his shotgun. "They're hitting somebody else.

Lester Rahler said, "Dirty bastards.

The helicopters flew away, growing smaller, their noise diminishing.

Lester said, "Wanna play Flinch! some more?"

Mad Dog shook his head. "The goddam Sheriff just made me flinch."

The helicopters flew on, following the course of a creek bed into a lush valley. Then the helicopters landed beside a sugar cane field.

From both choppers, a dozen deputies hit the ground with automatic rifles drawn and fanned out like an army patrol, disappearing into the cane.

Sheriff Charles Hartman followed them from one of the helicopters. He was handsome, well-built, and athletic. He wore his uniform with pride. He could be either an ex-Golden Gloves fighter or a male model.

A deputy said, "Nothing here, Sheriff."

Hartman was angered. "Not another ... "

Alice Taylor, one of the helicopter pilots, left her copter and joined them. She was a beautiful woman and man-crazy. She wore aviator sunglasses, an aloha shirt, white slacks and deck shoes without socks. They entered the cane field. The cane was twice as high as a man and waved like Kansas wheat.

They toured the garden. The stalks were fresh-cut. Batches of leaves littered the ground as if a storm had blown through. At least a hundred plants had been removed in a matter of hours.

Alice said, "I saw it yesterday morning."

Hartman said, "Maybe you were spotted."

Alice said, "No."

Hartman faced her. "Well, Alice, what else could it be?"

Rafferty and Audrey stood at the gulch's edge, looking down at the bottom of the gulch, at many tropical trees, a green pond held in check by a lava dam, a creek from the spillover, and a naked man in a jockstrap doing push-ups on a long flat rock.

Audrey Quint said, "There's your boy."

Rafferty and Audrey climbed down the gulch wall. They met with Jimmy Quint, the man in the jockstrap. He was deeply sun-burned, skinny from self deprivation, had uncombed hair and had deep-set, lost eyes. He didn't notice how undressed he was.

Jimmy shaded his eyes. "Rafferty? Terry?"

Rafferty said, "Hello, Jimmy. "

Jimmy laughed. "You came to see me?" His smile weakened. "Goddam." He shook his head, amazed that anyone would visit. "Goddam." He was lost in self-thought. "Goddam!"

Rafferty said, "How are you doing, Jimmy?"

Jimmy thought it over. "Not bad." Then he brightened. "I got running water over there." He pointed at the pond. "It gets deep over there. I get in over there and take a bath whenever I need one."

Rafferty and Audrey exchanged glances. The message that passed between them recognized that poor Jimmy was in a confused mental state.

Rafferty asked, "How long have you been living like this, Jimmy?"

Jimmy confided. "It feels like forever."

Rafferty said, "We want to know how it's going for you. We want to know if—when—you're coming back to work."

"I don't know. Maybe. I don't know."

Jimmy choked up, his voice hoarse.

Audrey watched, holding back her tears.

Later that day in Wild Banana Gulch, Jimmy wandered off and became silent and distant, again lost in himself, and Rafferty found that nothing he could sai could break through this new wall.

Rafferty said, "Well, if not dinner, how about if I come back tomorrow?"

Jimmy was lost. "Okay."

"Do you need anything?"

Jimmy looked around absent-mindedly. "I miss the Sports Page. I used to like reading the Sports Page."

Rafferty promised, "I'll get you one."

Jimmy stopped Audrey. "Don't tell my brother, Audrey, okay? He wouldn't understand." He told Rafferty, "He thinks the Bible is the only thing you should read."

Audrey said, "I won't tell Jeremiah."

Jimmy raised a palm. "Hey, Terry, Audrey, later, okay? Thanks for coming by."

Jimmy and Rafferty shook hands, while Audrey took Jimmy’s hands in her and quoted from the Psalms.

She said, "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." Then Audrey kissed Jimmy goodbye.

Jimmy turned and left his own camp. The last sight Rafferty and Audrey had was his bare ass disappearing into the trees. They were both surprised.

Mad Dog looked over the supplies Henry Oteas had brought up to their camp. Three pickup trucks were parked nearby. Lester wandered into the scene.

Mad Dog pawed through the boxes. "Henry, did you get me those batteries?"

Henry, a retired canefield worker, sat to one side drinking his favorite drink, a mixture of bourbon and Gatorade. He was Tahitian and wore his mane of white hair tied back in a ponytail. His clothes all seemed a little large on him.

Henry looked blank. "If it was on my list, it's in the boxes."

"You didn't read the list?" Mad Dog asked.

Henry said, "Tomo did. Keep looking."

Lester watched Henry drinking. "How can you drink that shit?"

Henry winked. "It's good shit."

Lester said, "Hey, old man, what are you going to do with your fourth?"

Henry smiled happily. "Buy a house for my grandson and his bride. The rest is for my old age."

Lester mocked him. "You're old now." Then he daydreamed aloud about his own lot. "I'm gonna buy a lot of women. Nothing in the world is worse than not getting any."

Mad Dog had found batteries and had replaced the old ones in his pocket-size electronic blackjack game. As he started punching the keys, Mad Dog said, "Sure, I'll take a hit on seventeen." He punched the keys. "Shit."

Lester told his father, "Mad Dog, you know what's crazy? Tomo's gonna use his share and get married. With that kinda money, he can afford more than just one woman." He broke up over his own joke. "One with meat on her bones!"