Davis Aurini - As I Walk These Broken Roads

Raxx’s long stride quickly closed the distance with the truck. He got in, slamming the door and turning the key in the ignition. The engine rolled over and he took hold of the gearshift, pressing down on the clutch as the transmission thunked into first. He sat there with the motor humming; heavy in thought, glaring at the dashboard.

Wentworth got in and Raxx stomped down on the accelerator. The truck roared, spitting gravel, and the passenger door banged shut. As they passed the last building he eased the pedal down to the floor, ratcheting up the speed to ninety kilometres an hour. He drove recklessly, the vehicle canting left and right, skidding out as the potholes sent vibrations through the frame. His wrist muscles twitched in response to the forces trying to jerk the vehicle off the road, while he clutched back and forth between the gears.

Wentworth eased back in his seat and lit a cigarette. He didn’t know what had Raxx so upset; for all of his reticence, Jenkins had stayed polite. So he waited, smoking, bracing himself with his foot as the vehicle shuddered. Raxx remained silent, barrelling down the road. Wentworth would have to speak first.

“‘Sodomites’ — that’s what Jenkins called Slayer and his crew. He said something like, ‘These sodomites have come upon us.’ Any idea what he meant by that?”

Raxx sighed. His features relaxed, and he finally let up on the accelerator, letting the vehicle coast to a reasonable speed. “It’s got a bunch of meanings,” he said, “but it all depends on the context. Without knowing more about this Slayer guy or the Mennites, I couldn’t say exactly what he meant. Hell, it could’ve just been just an insult — you know, meaningless, just a word they use. It’s hard to say.” He paused, and his knuckles momentarily whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. “Its root meaning is ‘One who is despicable in the eyes of the Lord.’”

Wentworth nodded, though he doubted it was an epithet. Jenkins hadn’t spoken it with enough vehemence for that, and he didn’t seem like the sort who’d use slang. Raxx was about to go on when a voice came from the back seat.

“Excuse me, gents—’

Raxx slammed on the brakes, throwing the vehicle into a skid. Wentworth whipped around, counteracting the centripetal force to lever himself against the headrest. The vehicle came to a stop amidst a cloud dust as Wentworth trained his pistol on the figure in the back.

Sitting there was a boy of about fourteen or fifteen years, stunned into silence by their reactions. His outfit identified him as a Mennite, and the first traces of a beard were on his chin. After a moment the fire in Wentworth’s eyes dimmed, and he slouched back in his seat.

“Goddamnit, kid, you scared me. You make a habit of hiding in strangers’ vehicles?”

“I — I’m sorry, gents, I didn’t mean to!” he stammered.

Wentworth glanced at Raxx, then unbuckled his seatbelt, “Aw, fuck, my cigarette!” He reached down and picked it up before it burned a hole in the floor. “Alright,” he said, turning to face the kid, “Who are you, and what do you think you’re doing back there?”

The kid swallowed. “My name’s Tyler — Tyler Inglewood. Please, gents, I didn’t want to sneak into your carriage, but it was the only way I could talk to you. Don’t — I hope you’re not so angry!”

Wentworth looked dubious, but Raxx managed to shrug off his ill temper and put on a friendly expression, “No harm done. You just surprised us, is all. I’m Raxx, by the way. And this is Wentworth.”

“Puh — pleased to meet you Mister Raxx, Mister, uh, Mister Wentworth.”

“Just Wentworth. Listen, kid, relax; we’re not angry, just a little on edge right now.” He let out a breath, glaring at Raxx behind polarized lenses. “Here;” he offered his pack of cigarettes to Tyler, who took one but remained nervous. He lit it off of the dashboard lighter Raxx offered, his hands trembling with inexperience. His first puff had him explode in coughing, but by the second he seemed to have caught the hang of it.

“So Tyler,’ asked Raxx, “What’s so important that you couldn’t just tell us out there on the street?”

“Well, you see gents, uh—” he glanced about for a second. Raxx guessed at his dilemma, and reached over to the driver-side console to lower Tyler’s window. The boy jumped at the window’s hum, regarding it suspiciously, before hesitantly ashing his cigarette and nodding his thanks, “You see, I heard you talking to Ol’ Annie about the sodomites — I works for her now — and then I saw you go off to the Church to talk with Mr. Jenkins. But I knew what he was going to say, the same thing what he said to them folks from Hope. And I knew if I talked to you where everybody could see I’d get in trouble, and they wouldn’t have let me say nothing anyway. So I figured I’d hide in here and wait until you’d moved a bit before saying anything—”

“So Tyler, tell me this;” Wentworth took a final drag of his cigarette and flicked it out the window, “Why are you talking to us when no one else will?”

Tyler swallowed. “It’s… it’s because of what happened…” he looked up at Raxx and straightened his back. “What happened to my family! It was… it was at the beginning of summer.

“We’d just finished the seeding. I remember, ‘cause I was in the barn putting away all the stores. It was really hot and dusty, the dust from the bags was getting all over me, and I was taking a break ‘cause I seen a funny looking spider. That’s when I heard a growl, and a whole bunch of popping noises coming from the road. I crawled over to the peepin’ crack and that’s when I saw ’em — Slayer and his gents. There was a whole bunch, all lined up on the road, and running at our farm.

“They… hurt my sisters and brothers, my parents! My older brother Jersey tried to fight back; he was running back from the fields when I saw him, with a shovel. He had it lifted above his head like he was going to hit them, and he was screaming, but then a — an arrow — showed up in his tums. For a second he looked all surprised, then — well, then… then he just fell. And he didn’t move no more.”

He took a heavy drag on the cigarette, coughed, and wiped at his nose. “After shooting ‘im they laughed about it. Laughed! Like it weren’t nothing! Then, well… I think one of ’em saw me… Gents… I don’t really wanna talk ‘bout it.” He sighed, casting his eyes down again. “The whole time I was hiding in the barn, watching the whole thing. At first it was because I was too scared to move… but then, well… after a bit, it was ‘cause I knew that I couldn’t do nothin’ no-way. They’d just kill me like they did Jersey. The man that looked at me — I don’t know why he didn’t, but I was just so scared.”

For a moment the boy was silent, and Wentworth and Raxx looked away. When he started speaking again his words came spilling out like a flood.

“So’s I walked here afterwards, I didn’t know what else to do. I’ve been living with Ol’ Annie, helping her out, ever since. And I listen to Jenkins when he preaches, and what he’s saying don’t make sense. When I talk to him it’s like he just looks right through me, he’s too busy thinking about all them words in his head. I don’t know much about all that stuff, but I know the Lord wouldn’t send that kind of trouble! Those gents — those gents come from the Other One! And I think that maybe the Lord only helps those what helps themselves, gents, that’s what I understand. So I don’t know why Jenkins won’t let no one fight back. Why we can’t do what we oughta?

“When you two came in today I heard what you were saying. You talked all smooth, but I knew you had something else in your wits. I figured maybe you were here from Hope, or some other place, and that you might be looking to do something to this Slayer. Maybe do something that oughta be done.”