JeSSE DON’T KNOW BUT I DON’T BELIEVE IN HEAVEN NO MORE. When I died last night I didn’t see no mansions nor streets of gold nor angels. And no good God would’ve let Jesse kill Abby so he’s bunk too. The sun burned like lye when I run out the door after her. I wasn’t thinking. I heard her crying and wasn’t thinking. There wasn’t no sense in me going out there. You can’t bring nothing back from ashes.
We was in Houston Texas when I found her. Jesse was out hunting. I’m to keep to the room when he’s gone but I sneak out sometimes. I know what fifteen minutes looks like and I never go more than that. I walk to the swimming pool if we got one to a washing place to McDonald’s. Once I stood outside a drive-in movie and watched a show about some boys in jail and once I peeked into a tavern where a lady dancing with her titties hanging out called me sugar. Come in and enjoy the show, she said and I said, No ma’am I got to get to work.
In Houston I was on my way to a market with a quarter to buy me a Hershey Bar. Abby was sitting under a car in the parking lot. I called her to me but she wouldn’t come till I spent that quarter on jerky and gave her some. Then she followed me all the way back to the room purring and rubbing on my legs.
The row me and Jesse had over keeping her went for days. I had to make a thousand promises. And I thought he was gonna stomp me a new asshole when he found out I turned her. I couldn’t bear to think of her dying.
I was the only one could pet her feed her or pick her up. She slept next to me and kept watch like a guard dog. She liked it when you scratched her chin but couldn’t abide you touching her paws and if her tail was swishing watch out. Her favorite food was tuna fish out of a tin but she’d eat grapes peanut butter soda crackers—most anything. And after I fed we didn’t have to do hardly any cleaning she was such a pig about lapping up spilled blood. She’d even gobble at the dead girls’ throats and chew on their fingers.
Jesse didn’t kill her ’cause of what I said about Johona. He killed her ’cause he lost his sweetheart and couldn’t abide me having Abby still. Pure meanness is what it was. When he pulled me back after I went after her my heart hurt more than it did when Mama died but I knew he’d dust me if I fought him. The Little Devil told me so. That cocksucker’s looking for a reason to throw you out there too, he said, don’t give him one. So I did what Jesse wanted. I washed the sheets like he told me to yes sir yes sir. I took myself to bed keeping my sadness hid and whetting my anger like a blade.
What I got left: my cards my train book most my cars some of my dinosaurs a puzzle I can’t work a sack of fake gold nuggets my Mickey Mouse flashlight.
Mr. Sanders comes back from the swimming pool and quick as a dog can lick a plate clean Jesse tells him I pissed the bed. I fall asleep for a while and wake to find them going out to talk to Monsieur Beaumont. I pull the curtain aside and watch them climb into the camper.
Folks are setting off fireworks for the Fourth of July. Jesse always says he won’t get me none but always does for a surprise. He won’t let me light firecrackers but I can do sparklers and fountains if I’m careful to run away before they go to spitting. Some kids out there got sparklers and I’m thinking I might go over and say howdy and see can I have one but Jesse and Mr. Sanders come out of the truck and I get scared and close the curtains. They come inside and Jesse opens a can of pork and beans for me. Mr. Sanders asks do I want bread and gives me a slice. I don’t ask for butter. I want it but don’t ask.
Jesse and Mr. Sanders lay out their guns. Mr. Sanders has got a brand-new shotgun in its box. Daddy let me shoot his shotgun once. It was like a mule kicking me in the chest. Him and Uncle Offutt laughed when I cried. More meanness.
Jesse loads the shotgun. I pick up a shell and sniff. Smells like fireworks. Put it down, Jesse says. I don’t want to speak to him but I want to know. I ask what’s happening and he says him and Mr. Sanders are fixing to do away with the Fiends. I go to shaking. I don’t want no more trouble nobody shooting me nobody stabbing me. I say, You’re gonna get me killed. No, I won’t, Jesse says, I’ll see you’re safe.
I don’t trust him. I quit the beans and get back into bed. Jesse asks do I want to watch television. I don’t answer but he puts it on anyway. A soldier band is playing and there’s fireworks in Washington DC. Washington DC’s where the president lives in his white house.
Daddy took us to see President Teddy Roosevelt in Wheeling. He come in on the train rode in a parade and give a speech. There was so many people I couldn’t see nothing but a man yelling on a balcony. Daddy bought me a candy apple. On the way home we laid over for the night outside Littleton in the barn of Daddy’s friend Breezy. Breezy had a dog named Red that’d sing when he played the fiddle. The president now is a man named Ford same as the car.
I don’t care about the fireworks on television. I’m feeling sick to my stomach and the Little Devil won’t quit griping. Get up, Jesse says, we’re leaving. I don’t want to. Get up, Jesse says again and his voice means business. I go to pull on my shoes and there’s blood all over them. My fingers get sticky tying the laces. Stop putting on a show, Jesse says when he sees me crying.
Me and him and Mr. Sanders walk out and climb in the camper. Mr. Sanders opens the box back there and I go to shaking again when I see Monsieur Beaumont lying in it wrapped round with chains.
Jesse puts his pistol to Monsieur Beaumont’s head. We’re going after the Fiends, he says, I don’t want to hear nothing from you but directions. Monsieur Beaumont with a rag in his mouth can’t do nothing but nod. Jesse and Mr. Sanders lift him out of the box. He stinks like he shit hisself and his fancy suit is black with blood.
You’re riding back here, Jesse says to me, there’s no room up front. I don’t want to. It’s dark and it’s hot. Jesse says, Buddy do what I say or I’m gonna lock you in that box. I can’t let him put me in there. He’s like never to let me out.
Him and Mr. Sanders take Monsieur Beaumont with them. The door shuts and I’m all alone. Sweat’s running down my face and crawling down my back. The truck starts and we’re agoing. Through a little window I see cars lights people. Fireworks are popping and fading and leaving spidery ghosts. We stop at Kmart and Jesse runs inside and then we’re driving again.
The road’s long and straight and empty after that. I open drawers and come upon some silverware a hammer and nails a box of pencils and two Christmas candy canes. I put one candy in my pocket and tear the plastic off the other. I’m sucking on it when the truck all of a sudden slows. I go sit at the table and hide the candy under a cushion.
Out the window’s a red arrow and a motel. The truck goes past them but stops down the road. Mr. Sanders opens the door and Jesse brings Monsieur Beaumont in and lays him back in the box. Mr. Sanders sticks the rag in his mouth and closes the lid and locks it.
Him and Jesse strap on their guns and knives. Sit tight, Jesse says to me, don’t open the door no matter what you hear. I ask what about Monsieur Beaumont. He can’t get at you, Jesse says, he’s all locked up and no more dangerous than a sack of spuds.
Him and Mr. Sanders step out and I watch through the window at them walking off toward the red arrow. I hear Monsieur Beaumont breathing in the box his chains jingling. Keep still you sonofabitch, I say. You was our friend but you ain’t no more.
I take the candy from under the cushion and go to sucking it again. It’s real quiet just flies buzzing until Monsieur Beaumont commences to moaning like a haint and kicking inside the box like he means to break out. Boom boom boom. I go to the drawer and get a knife and yell that I got it but that don’t settle him. Boom boom boom. I kick the box myself. I pound it with my fist. You best lay off, I say, I’ll dust you I will. Boom boom boom. I go to singing loud as I can to drown him out. We got a great big convoy trucking through the night. We got a great big convoy ain’t she a beautiful sight.
I’m singing and he’s kicking for I don’t know how long but when we’re both finally quiet another sound gives me goose bumps gunfire rattling like marbles in a can. There’s a bed up a ladder. I climb into it pull a blanket over me and stick fingers in my ears deep as they’ll go.