Samuel stood on the porch of his new house smoking a Marlboro. An old Kenworth car transporter carefully reversed up the gravel driveway with six old Jeep Wranglers from a car lot in Tennessee, purchased by Samuel at an online auction.
He had left his job at the auto plant, and in six months would know if his idea to build a business was something he’d come to regret. In that case, he would return to the factory and hope there was a place on the assembly line.
When Samuel saw how the driver was fixing to maneuver the rig, he waved at him to stop, then went over, crossing the upward slope of his property, all mud now after the reconstruction of a ruin that had once been his grandmother’s childhood home.
Right where you are! Samuel yelled over the chugging diesel motor.
The man seemed relieved as he shut off the engine. I’d sure hate to get stuck, he told Samuel through his open window. Looks pretty slick back there.
Oh, it’s all mud. I wouldn’t risk it. I can tow the vehicles to where I want them with my tractor. So you can just let ’em down here, if you don’t mind.
The driver had gray curly hair and a thin film of gray beard that contrasted with his dark skin. Samuel figured he had to be nearing seventy, and wondered if working was just a hobby or if he was struggling to make ends meet.
The Jeeps were all different colors. Three had broken windshields, and all but one had flat tires. When they were unloaded, Samuel took the driver into the house to give him a check and complete the paperwork. Each room smelled like paint and fresh wood from the renovation. A young pit bull belted across the couch and started licking the driver’s hand.
That dog is the most intelligent animal I ever had, Samuel told the man.
The driver cupped the dog’s head with his palm. I’m just happy he’s friendly.
He picks up on energy, Samuel explained, handing the man a lime soda. You seem like a nice guy, so I feel at ease. The dog knows that. He treats a person based on how I feel about ’em.
That’s pretty smart . . . like he can read your mind.
The dog was now on the back of the couch asking the driver to play by flicking his head and pretending to run away. So he don’t like ever’body?
No, he don’t. Especially the guy who poured the foundation for the steel barn I got going up.
The driver opened the can and took a long drink. Didn’t care for him much, huh?
I never even met the guy. My wife was here when he come. First time she goes out to say hi, takes him some coffee, signs the paperwork, everything is fine . . . he has a crew with him. But when the cement is poured and his crew have taken off, the guy starts coming back to the house like he forgot something.
With your wife all alone? That ain’t no good.
Well, the dog goes nuts.
Like he could sense something?
Exactly, and we’ll never know what ’cause the guy turned around and went back to his truck.
He took off?
Right. It could have been something innocent, but that dog’s got protective instincts. You live alone or you married?
The driver chuckled. You don’t want to know—my daughter is full-grown with a teenage daughter who now has a baby and they all live with me and my wife. Four generations under one roof. Nobody wants to leave home anymore, seems like. Me, I was out at fourteen, workin’ my ass off.
At least you can keep an eye on everyone.
I should get me one of them dogs, for when I’m outta town.
I’ll be honest with ya—they don’t live a long time and they have a bad reputation, but if you train ’em right, they’re loyal dogs who give nothin’ but love.
They both stared at the young pit bull, who was now on the floor, chewing a rubber bone.
Then the driver noticed Samuel’s championship poker ring.
I see you is a card player. I fool around myself with the boys when we get the chance.
Samuel held the ring up so the driver could take a good look. I got lucky is all, won a tournament years back.
Mississippi?
Indiana. Riverboat.
You win a lot?
Fifty-seven thousand.
Jesus Lord!
I sunk the money into this here land and house. I’m trying to start a business.
It’s good you quit when you did.
Oh I wanted to go to Vegas—play the big tables an’ all, don’t get me wrong, I considered it.
You would have been on TV. I would have seen you on TV sitting at one of them tables.
Yup. You would have. Just another hillbilly in sunglasses with a bad haircut.
The driver leaned back to laugh. Shit, he said, you’re funny. But it looks like you fixed this ol’ place up pretty good.
It almost killed me though. House was empty for fifty, sixty years, so we had our work cut out for us.
I can imagine, said the driver. Once the rain gets in, there ain’t much you can do but start over.
I’ve never been so stressed out. Almost cost me my marriage.
Listen, when you’re sixty-eight years old and still rentin’, it don’t feel too good. I once had a pile of money like you. It was from an insurance claim . . . but I had to get a steel plate in my head. The man pointed to his hair.
What happened?
Accident at work.
How bad?
Not too bad, except my head was in it. Now, one little blow could finish me off, or so the doc tells me.
You better drink sittin’ down then.
You’re right about that. It’s fine if I’m careful. But if I had money? I’d do like you and get a place like this. Somewhere that’s mine, somewhere way out in the boondocks where I can cause a ruckus.
Samuel remembered the phone call from Grandpa Joe, when he said they wanted to give him the property. He had been dating Heather only a few months then, but was eager to marry her. They wanted a place of their own, somewhere new, where Heather’s mother could have her own little apartment.
Samuel’s grandmother Carol inherited the house in 1946 when her father died, but it was half a century before she knew. Someone in Youngstown, Ohio, wanted to buy the land and lawyers had traced her through a marriage certificate.
When Alfredia found out about the house, she wanted everyone to drive out and look at where her mother had grown up. But then Grandpa Joe came on the phone and asked to speak to his grandson.
Listen, he told him. Your grandma don’t want to go out to that property because it’s full of bad memories. Are you old enough to understand that, Samuel? I think you are. Anyhow, your parents tell me you want to start a camping business or some such.
That’s right, Samuel said. Survival and wilderness training.
Joe chuckled. When I was your age, the war was on . . . so we got all that for free. But let me get to the point—your Grandma Carol and I think you should have the property for something you’re willing to work at.
Samuel went quiet.
You still there?
But shouldn’t it be for Mom and Uncle Rusty?
Well, neither of them need it. And selling won’t bring much in, with all the taxes and fees.
I never expected anything like this. I’m in shock.
Grandpa Joe laughed. You will be when you see it.
Alfredia had her hand out, ready to take the phone back, but her father was still talking.
The house been sitting empty for a long, long time. It’s gonna be rotted through, trust me. I done up a house in town once and can help with the carpentry, but I’m not sure there’s much we can do with this one, Samuel, except raze it.
As long as it’s got four walls.
I can’t promise that, but it does have fifty-eight acres, if that means anything.
Samuel lowered the phone and made a face to his parents and Uncle Rusty. Then he raised the handset back to his ear. You’re kiddin’ right?
Samuel! said his mother. What’s goin’ on? What’s Grandpa sayin’?
If you want to sell it, Grandpa Joe went on, that’s fine by us too. Maybe you can split the money with your folks, or use it to start your company. Your father tells me they’re layin’ people off left and right at the plant.
That is so.
Well then, best find somethin’ else to do.
But I don’t know if I can accept this, Grandpa. It’s too much.
Go take a look, my boy. It really ain’t nothing but a bunch of rotting wood and bad memories for your grandmother. But maybe you can turn it around. I have always believed in you, did you know that?
I appreciate it.
Your momma told me they can fix your eye and you said no. That right?
Yuh it is.
Okay, listen to me now, quickly, because your grandma just stepped outside to get the cat. I’m gonna tell you something, and it’s between you and me . . . you understand what that means? If you do, say yes.
Yes.
Not even your parents.
Okay.
Carol’s father, your great-granddaddy, his remains was found on the property somewhere, along with the remains of another man who was never identified. So I don’t know what was goin’ on, but it ain’t worth lookin’ into. You listening, Samuel?
I agree a hundred percent.
So man to man, if you see anything, bones or bloodstains or hair or clothes or anything like that, just burn it to hell, you got that?
Yes, sir.
And if you find a gun, you put it in a cloth sack with some rocks and dump it in the nearest creek. Don’t fool with the damn thing, you hear me?
Loud and clear.
Now if you want my advice, drive out there with a buddy . . . like that Eddie character, the Cherokee. You still know him?
Sure, but . . .
And don’t tell your momma or your grandma any of this, okay? And don’t let my daughter go out there until you’ve looked it over. You hear me? Alfredia was always very sensitive and this sort of thing upsets her. Can I count on you, Samuel?
Yes, Grandpa.
Good, because I already put your name on the deed. You can go out there whenever you want, and no one can say nothing. It’s all yours if you want it.
Samuel made a liverwurst sandwich for the driver and carried it into the living room on a paper plate with some chips and a pickle. The dog knew it was food and leapt up from its bed.
Might as well have something to eat, Samuel said, clearing a place for the driver to sit at the table. You like my filing cabinet? he asked, pointing at the piles of papers and empty soda cans. Underneath everything was a yellow tablecloth. Samuel had found it in the house when he was renovating.
That’s a good table, said the driver, sitting down. Oak or mahogany?
I wish my Grandpa Joe were here, ’cause he knows ever’thing there is to know about wood. It’s old-growth for sure and one of the only things I saved from the original house.
As the man ate, Samuel looked at his cell phone. He wondered if Heather and Linda were on their way home from the mall. Heather’s mother had died six months before from kidney failure, and since then, Heather spent much of her free time shopping, though most of what she bought remained in the closet, unworn, with the tags still on it. They’d fought about that, mostly late at night, when Linda was asleep in her bedroom across the hall.
Samuel sat with the driver until he finished his meal. Then he signed the delivery paperwork and both men went outside to the tractor-trailer.
So, I gotta ask, said the driver, what you gonna do with all them vehicles?
I think I mentioned I’m starting my own business? Well, I got everything pinned on it right now . . . loans coming out of my ass to tell you the truth.
Some kind of auto repair? You a mechanic?
Samuel shook his head. Can you imagine something for me?
Okay.
Power has just gone out . . . not only the grid, but anything with a computer, even a calculator, it’s all been fried.
Fried? How come?
Samuel locked eyes with the driver. Because we’ve been hit by an electromagnetic pulse.
A glaze fell over the driver’s face as though he were about to hear things he wouldn’t understand or believe.
My business idea is to teach people how to live in the woods after some kind of natural disaster, war, or pandemic.
You got a gun range?
Maybe I will later. But what use is a gun if you’ve got nothing to eat? With earth, water, and sunlight, you can grow as much food as you want and live a long life. Everything we need to survive is right here free of charge if you have the know-how.
Sounds smart, the driver said. He was cleaning the mud from his boots with a brush on the bottom step of the truck. Land of milk and honey, as the Good Book says. Once his boots were clear, he got back into the cab.
How long to Tennessee?
I ain’t going to Tennessee. I’ve got to pick something up just a few miles from here, then I have to be in North Carolina by tomorrow . . . where I’ll get me some of that barbecue.
What you picking up nearby?
Rusted out car. Edsel, I think. The driver pointed to the shell of a green pickup at the far corner of Samuel’s property. There were plants growing all around and even inside, where they had pushed up through rusted floor panels.
That a 1931 Ford?
I couldn’t say, Samuel replied. But it belonged to my great-granddaddy. He was a card player, like me. Reckon it’s gonna be my retirement project.
The man scratched his head. I guess you could say delivering ’em has turned out to be mine.
With the engine turning over, Samuel dug in his pocket for some bills.
Oh, I couldn’t take that, the man told him, staring at the money. You already fed me lunch.
Buy your wife some flowers so she’ll let you get that dog.
I never did see such an intelligent animal, said the man, taking the money.
As the truck pulled away, Samuel inspected his motley crew of Jeep Wranglers, wondering where they had been and whose voices had once filled each cabin. A red one was missing a door, so he got into the seat. People had kissed, he thought, people had argued, and songs had been played over and over through the speakers—emboldening dreams that by now would have come true or gone forever. He would never meet those people, but he felt their lives crossing into his like wind through trees.
At six o’clock, the dog jumped off the couch and roused Samuel from his slumber. He locked the animal in its cage and looked out the window to see Heather walking down the driveway. She was wearing his vintage Iron Maiden concert tee shirt and red-tinted sunglasses. Then he saw Linda standing in a mud puddle at the end of the long drive. She had on shiny rain boots and a sweater with the tags flapping.
Her biological father lived in Sacramento. Without Heather knowing, Samuel had been in touch with him to try and get paperwork signed so he could legally adopt Linda. But in order to do it, her father wanted money, so Samuel gave up on the idea.
When he got outside, Linda was staring at the Jeeps across the muddy slope.
Which one do you want? he asked.
The red one, Dad.
Do they even run, Samuel?
I doubt it. But figured we’d try ’em out together. He held up the keys in one big bunch. Though first we’re going to have to figure out which is which.
Linda rushed forward. I’ll do it!
But Heather wanted them to change out of their mall clothes first. Inside, the dog was whining at the sound of their voices.
After some coffee and something to eat, they all went out to inspect the vehicles.
You really think we can make money from this? Heather asked. She had given up her job at Booth’s Diner but still drove up there to see the people from time to time.
Eventually, once they’re running and painted all the same color with our company logo on ’em . . . and we got the website going . . . maybe some advertising. Then we can go after corporate contracts and set up those experience weekends I was telling you about. That’s where there’s real money, especially during Derby season.
Heather climbed into the driver’s seat of a blue Wrangler and put her hands on the steering wheel. You think we can do all that? I’m worried it’s not gonna work out.
We’ll be fine, but we ought to save as much as we can until things are up and running.
Quit shopping, you mean?
Well, Samuel said, feeling them move toward another argument. I guess we’re okay, for now.
But Heather was red with shame. I can take all that stuff back anytime. You just say the word. That’s why I leave the tags on. You see all the tags, right?
Then suddenly, near the old green pickup, something moved.
Heather, look, Samuel whispered.
A family of deer had wandered over the tree line and were ripping up weeds near the rusted truck.
A few years ago, I would’ve gone for my rifle.
Linda pulled on his wrist. But you wouldn’t now, right Papa?
No, I don’t reckon I would.