‘Surfin’ U.S.A.’ crackled over the AM as Will guided his Chevy 3100 down the narrow pavement. Janie reached for the tuner. “Won’t do any good,” he said. “Nearest Top 40 station is back over in Radmore. You’re lucky to get anything but a gospel station out here. Here we are, anyway.” He steered into the parking lot of a rambling clapboard grocery at the crossroads of Galvin Run and Nally Pike. Sun and storms had eroded most of the green grit off its asphalt shingles. Bleached lettering on the gable spelled out ‘Shouse Grocery.’
“They better have a good cooler,” said Janie, wiping her forehead, “or you’re in big trouble.”
Will shook his head. “Oh ye of little faith.” He pointed to a faded blue and orange sign nailed next to the screen door. “See, they got a sign right on the wall. Says ‘Cold Drinks Here.’ Even has ice cubes painted on it.”
“There better be.”
He rolled up about ten feet away from a rusted-out Ford pickup, tires scrunching in the loose gravel as he braked. A shirtless, gray haired man in stained overalls sat motionless in its bed. Pale brown eyes, sunk deep in his weathered, bronze face stared off into the distance. White dust swirled up, drifting over him.
Janie studied him for a moment. “That man’s got a big old hunk of chain around his neck,” she said.
“Don’t stare at him. Folks around these parts have funny notions. It’s best not to get them riled up.”
“You sure this is a good idea?”
“Don’t worry,” Will said, climbing out of the cab. He pulled off his baseball cap, giving his curly brown hair a good scrabble. Then, he tugged up his jeans. “You comin’?”
“Well, I’m not gonna sit out here roasting in the sun.” Janie hopped out of the cab, adjusting the hair tie holding her auburn ponytail. Then, she straightened her white crop top before checking herself in the side mirror. Her freckles stood out in the reflection. She frowned. “You’re buying.”
Will pulled the screen door open, its rusty spring creaking. Janie peered inside before she entered. A cast iron stove sat in its center, dividing the space. The left side was devoted to groceries. The other to beer and bait. Except for a small counter in the corner, coolers topped with racks of sundries, snacks, knives, and artificial lures lined the back of the store. The walls were stained amber from decades of tobacco smoke. A plump, balding man in overalls and a t-shirt stood behind it, chewing a stubby cigar. An oscillating fan above his head strained to push hot air and stale, leathery cigar smoke around the store.
The man was talking with an old, stooped woman in a tattered shift. Two long white braids dangled to her waist. “What do you want, Arletta?”
“Got any day ole bread?”
“Maybe a loaf or two in the back.”
“Ow mush?” she asked.
“How about ten cents each?” Shouse looked over at his meat cooler. “Got some baloney ends. I’ll let you have the lot for thirty-five cents.”
The old woman shook her head and grunted. “Gugh. Dat seems way high.”
He shrugged. “Take it or leave it, Arletta. I’ll feed it to my hogs if you ain’t interested.”
“Awrigh, Awrigh.” She leaned forward. “I be needin’ a jar too. Ow mush?”
“Two bucks.”
Arletta slapped her hand on the counter. “You a gotdamn fief.”
Janie laid her hand on Will’s arm. “Let’s go,” she whispered.
Will grinned. “Oh, that’s just the way folks negotiate around here. Nothing to get worried about.”
Shouse knocked the ashes off his cigar. “I can sell shine all day long at two bucks a jar.” He pointed to Will and Janie. “Bet them kids is here to try and buy some. Now, you gonna put up or shut up?
“Gugh. How much for it all den?”
“Two dollars and fifty-five cents.” Arletta reached into her pocket.
“Not so fast,” said Shouse. “You ain’t gonna let him have none of that shine, are you?”
“Nunna your goddamn business, you skunk turd.”
“When I heard what they said about him breakin’ that kid’s back, it became my business. Ain’t gonna have no one come after me if he—”
Arletta pulled a pistol from her pocket, pointing it at Shouse. “One more word an’ I’ll shoot you ass.”
Janie pulled on Will’s arm with a trembling hand. “Come on, Will.” He stood transfixed by the scene unfolding in front of them.
Shouse laughed. “You really think you’re gonna hurt me with that .22 short barrel?”
Arletta snarled, “No. I’ll let some docker gut you like a hog in winner. He be lookin for dat bitta lead in your belly.”
Shouse held up his hands. “Whoa there, Arletta. No need to get hasty. Didn’t mean nothing disrespectful. Why don’t I make it two dollars for the shine and you consider the bread and baloney a gift?”
She tucked the pistol back in her pocket and pulled out a tattered leather coin purse. She dug out a couple of crumpled ones and tossed them on the counter.
Will put a finger to his lips, shushing Janie as he pulled her to a side aisle. “Don’t do nothing until she’s clear of the parking lot,” he whispered.
Shouse grabbed the bills, then bagged the bread and baloney and placed them on the counter. Next, he disappeared into a back room only to return moments later with a mason jar of crystal clear moonshine. He handed it to Arletta. She unscrewed the lid and sniffed its contents. Smiling, she took a big swig. “Gugh. Taste like hog piss,” she rasped, screwing the lid back on. Grabbing the bag, she left the store, letting the screen door slam with a loud whack.
Will, Janie, and Shouse watched and waited as Arletta threw the bag to the man in the truck bed, then took another swig from the jar. She shuddered, then looked back at the store and gave them the finger before climbing in her truck and roaring out onto the road.
Janie balled up her fist and gave Will a sharp jab. “I’m gonna kill you,” she growled.
He winced. “Nobody got hurt. That’s just the way they do business around these parts. Think of the story you will have to tell your girlfriends. Now let’s get something to drink and get outta here.” He took Janie’s hand and started off toward Shouse.
Shouse let them get a little closer before he asked, “What can I do for you?”
Will smiled. “How about a jar?”
“No.”
“But—”
“I said no. I’ll let you get a couple of cold beers, though.”
“I’ll have a Pepsi,” said Janie. She elbowed Will’s side. “And since he’s driving, make it two.”
Shouse eyeballed Will who pinched his lips together and nodded. “Good decision,” said Shouse. “Look in the middle cooler.” Will sidled over, retrieved two cans. He handed one to Janie. She rolled it on her face and sighed. Shouse puffed on his cigar. “That’ll be twenty cents. You kids ain’t from around here are you?”
“No,” said Janie. “We are going hiking up to Everett Furnace.”
“Nice place,” said Shouse. “Lots of young folks from around here go up there.” He winked at Will. “Though mostly at night. I ‘spect you’ll find plenty to keep you occupied in the daytime too.”
“Not far from here, is it?” asked Will.
“Naw. Turn left and head down Nally Pike for about three miles till you come to Auger Chapel Road. It’ll be on your right. Take that for a mile or so till you come to Furnace Ruins Road and there you are.”
Will fished two dimes from his pocket and laid them on the counter. “What was that all about with that old woman?” asked Janie.
“That was Arletta Burlow. I’m guessing you noticed Clurie in the back of her truck too.”
Janie nodded, “Yeah, that was creepy. It looked to me like he had a chain around his neck. What’s with that?”
“They say he’s a very dangerous man.”
“Really,” said Janie. “How so?”
Shouse knocked some ash off of his cigar. “That’s a long story. If you ain’t in no hurry—”
“We’re not,” Janie interrupted. Will frowned and dropped his head.
“Well then, Arletta’s bunch has lived up in Burlow Holler for as long as anyone can remember. Nowadays, it’s just her and Clurie. The rest has died out. You see Clurie’s Arletta’s son…and…her brother—”
“No freaking way,” said Will. “That would mean his father was—”
“Yeah, he was,” said Shouse, shaking his head. “She was fourteen when he was born. People says that was something what happened a lot in the Burlow family.” He paused, taking a long draw on his cigar, exhaling slowly. He leaned over the counter, furrowing his brow. “Truth be known, Arletta ain’t quite right and Clurie even more so. He never did learn to speak. Anyways, not so people could understand. They say Arletta can understand his gibberish.”
“That’s awful,” said Janie, voice breaking. “Why is he chained up?”
Shouse continued. “People that knows say he’s just a rung or two above an animal. Dangerous he is. Been that way all his life. Kids liked to pick on him whenever Arletta brought him with her to town. That was before she started keepin’ him chained up. One day…they say he was around twelve or thirteen…when they was in town, some boys got to teasing him. Took his cap or something silly like that. Well, they say he went wild. Grabbed one of them boys. They say he was big as a horse even at that age. Well, they say he threw that boy to the ground and stomped the hell out of him. Broke his back, he did. They say that kid never walked again. Hell, that was over fifty years ago and people still talk about it like it was yesterday.”
“What happened?” asked Janie.
Shouse folded his arms. “There was one helluva big row. In the end, the sheriff told Arletta if she didn’t want him to go to prison or get sent to an asylum, she’d have to keep him locked up. He’s been chained ever since.”
Will laughed. “You can’t be serious. You tell all the tourists that tale?”
Shouse pounded his fist on the counter causing the dimes to bounce. “If you don’t believe me, haul your skinny ass outta my store.” Janie jumped back a step. Shouse spit his cigar out and locked his black eyes on Will. “Boy, I’m as serious as a hangman with a noose.”
Will gulped. “Sorry, sir. Guess I showed my backside.”
“That’s horrible,” said Janie, putting her hand on her throat. “How could she do such a thing?”
Shouse shrugged. “All I can say is they done things differnt back then; and don’t forget, they say Arletta is a lot more like Clurie than she is like us. The best thing anyone can do is to steer clear of them two and let time and fate take care of the Burlows.” He pushed the dimes back toward Will. “Drinks are on the house. Now you two need to get on with your picnic or whatever it is before them drinks get warm.”
“Thanks,” said Will, scooping up the dimes. “We’ll do just that.” He took Janie’s hand. “Come on.” They turned and walked toward the door.
Janie looked over her shoulder and said, “Thank you Mr. Shouse,” but he had already disappeared into the back room.
They hurried out the door and climbed into the truck. Will dug a can punch out of the glovebox and opened the cans. He handed one to Janie. “Here, this ought to cool things down a bit.” He gazed at the store for a moment then slapped the steering wheel and chortled, “Damn. You ever seen the like?”
Janie took a long sip of the cold liquid, savoring its sweet, dark, cola flavor. “No, and I hope never to again,” said Janie. “Let’s just go home.”
Will started the truck. “Now, now. When you think about it, nothing bad really happened. We’ve come all this way. No need to let something like this ruin the whole day.” He paused. “Tell you what. Once we get to the Furnace, if you still want to head home, we’ll leave.”
“You promise?”
Will pulled her close and gave her a kiss. She smelled of flowers. “Sure. Now, don’t worry. It’ll be clear sailing from here on.” He put the truck in gear and pulled out of the parking lot.
As Will navigated the hilly, serpentine road, Janie stuck her arm outside the window, hand surfing the wind. Mirroring a creek to the right, the road inclined, veering left. She watched its narrow shoulder sheer away into a deep gully. As they rounded the curve, a pickup truck, flipped on its side, appeared. It sat at the end of a flattened path of Indiangrass, front bumper at the water's edge. A body lay next to it.
“Stop,” she screamed, grabbing Will’s arm.
“Hey. What the hell you doing? You want me to run off the road?” he shouted.
“No. There’s a wreck down there. Looks like someone’s hurt. We gotta stop and help ‘em.” Will hit the brakes. Janie jumped out and scrambled down the slope.
“Wait,” Will screamed, yanking out the parking brake. He looked out the rear window in time to see Janie’s head disappear over the shoulder. He threw the door open and followed. Reaching the side of the road, he saw her drop to her knees beside the truck. “Be careful. I’ll be right there.”
Janie looked at Cluries’s writhing body. “It's those folks from the grocery,” she called out. Clurie was on his back, head cinched tight against the undercarriage. Gurgling saliva drooled from his lips. She furiously tugged on the sweat-burnished chain, trying to loosen it while he batted her arms.
Will joined her. “Holy crap. Looks like he got thrown out and the truck rolled over that damn chain. Smell that?” he asked, sniffing the air. A pungent, slightly sweet chemical aroma filled his nostrils. “The gas tank must be leaking.”
“We have to do something,” pleaded Janie. “He’s choking to death.” Tears streaming down her cheeks, she tugged at the chain. “Can we push the truck over?”
“No. The cab will prevent that.” Clurie stopped moving. “Crap, he’s passed out.”
“Isn’t there something we can do?”
“I got some bolt cutters up in my toolbox. Lemme see that chain,” he said, pulling Janie aside. Dropping to his knees, he tried to run a finger between the links and Clurie’s neck. “Geez that’s tight. Good news is it ain’t too heavy. If I can get a good angle, I might be able to cut him free.” He got up. “Stop that tugging’ now ‘cause you might bring this truck down on you both. Why don’t you see if the old lady’s in the cab while I fetch the cutters.” He turned and clambered up the slope.
Janie got up and made her way around to the other side. The windshield was cracked in a spiderweb pattern. Bringing her face close to the shattered glass, she cupped her hands around her eyes and peered in. Empty. Hearing a faint moan, she looked around. About ten feet away, some Indiangrass was mashed down. She could just make out the profile of a body crumpled in its middle. She pushed through the scraggly vegetation to where Arletta lay. One look at her twisted, bleeding body made Janie cover her eyes. Another low moan leaked out of the woman.
“Janie. Where are you?” called Will. “I need some help.”
“Arletta’s over here,” Janie shouted.
Will poked his head around the back of the truck. “Is she alive?”
“Barely.”
“Well, let’s cut this one free before he chokes to death, then we’ll figure out what to do with her.”
“Okay,” said Janie. She trotted back to the truck.
Will was kneeling beside Clurie. “I need you to hold the skin back from the chain while I cut,” he said. She knelt across from Will and pushed on Clurie’s swollen neck. His skin was rough and calloused. “Now comes the tough part,” Will said, guiding the bolt cutter’s jaws around a link. He squeezed the handles together. The blades sliced through the metal with a soft click and the chain fell away, revealing a small cut. A trickle of blood welled up.
“You cut him,” Janie said.
“Couldn’t be helped with the way that chain was dug in. Would you rather he choked to death?”
Janie shook her head. “No.”
Taking a deep breath, Will put a hand on Clurie’s lower chest. He waited a moment before exhaling. “Thank God, he’s still breathing. I don’t know how long it’ll be before he comes to.”
Janie bit her lip. “He ought to be checked out by a doctor. Arletta’s purty bad off too.”
“We’re only a couple of minutes from Shouse’s,” said Will. “We can call for the Sheriff from there. They’ll send county rescue. Come on.”
“You go. Someone ought to be here when he wakes up. I’ll try to keep an eye on Arletta also.”
“You sure you wanna stay here all alone?”
“Yeah,” said Janie. “Neither one of them is in any shape to do nothing. Now hurry.”
“I’ll be back in less than ten minutes.”
“You drive safe. I don’t need you getting in a wreck.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, giving her a kiss.
Janie watched him clamber up the slope and over the edge of the road. She couldn’t see Will or the truck, but heard its engine start and the tires squeal as he sped off. She placed her hand on Clurie’s lower chest, feeling for its rise and fall. She did this for several minutes until she was confident he would continue breathing before she headed over to check her other ward.
Arletta lay where Janie had left her distorted torso, left cheek pressed tightly to the ground, her breath labored. Blood, seeping from a long gash in her right arm, soaked her shift.
Janie knelt beside her, asking softly, “Miss Arletta, can you hear me?’
She opened an eye, rolling it around until it found Janie. “Clurie?” she rasped.
“Don’t worry. He's doing fine, resting over by the truck.”
“Clurie?”
“He’s resting over by the truck. Is there anything I can do to help you?” Arletta reached out. Her arm trembled as she grabbed at the air. Janie took her hand and laid it back against her chest. “Will has gone to call the Sheriff to send county rescue; but until then, you need to stay still.” Arletta reached out again. Trying to speak, she coughed up blood and spit instead. Her eye rolled back in its socket and her mouth fell slack. “Please don’t die,” Janie whispered. Stomach churning, she put her hand on Arletta’s lower chest. Feeling slight movement, tears welled up in her eyes.
She kept her hand there for several minutes until Arletta opened her eye and called for Clurie again. “Please stay still,” begged Janie, “you’re only going to make things worse.”
Arletta reached out again, rasping, “Clurie.”
Janie heard a rustle in the Indiangrass behind her. She looked over her shoulder and gasped,
“No.” A glowering Clurie towered over her. With a sweep of his massive hand, he sent her sprawling. He dropped to his knees and bent low over Arletta, rocking his head back and forth.
Arletta opened her eye. “Where dat bitch?”
Clurie looked where he threw Janie and shook his head. “Gah.”
“Dey called da sheriff. Can't let ‘im get you. You gotta go. Leave me. Go back to da holla. You hear me, Clurie?”
He pounded his fists against his temples, letting out a guttural roar.
While Clurie was occupied with Arletta, Janie took the opportunity to crawl back to the overturned truck.
Arletta took a shallow breath. She ran her hand along her bloody shift until she found the pocket. Snaking her hand in, she pulled the pistol out. It slipped from her grasp, tumbling to the ground. “Take it, Clurie, an’ git.”
Janie worked her way around to the undercarriage and flopped on the ground, sucking in a few breaths. She laid still until the pounding of her heart subsided.
Clurie shook his head, hands covering his face. “Noooooo. No lea’ you.”
Arletta placed a trembling hand on his chest. She coughed up more blood. “Take da gun,” she wheezed, “an’ git. Now do what’ Mama sez.” Her eye closed and her hand slipped to the ground.
Janie kept watch on Clurie and Arletta until she heard Will pull up. A door slammed and Will called out, “Janie.” She stood up and waved her arms. Will scudded down the embankment. She held up a finger to her lips while pointing toward Arletta and Clurie. Will crouched beside her. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Clurie come to while I was tending to Arletta. He snuck up and knocked me for a loop—literally—so I crawled over here to wait for you.”
Will balled up a fist. “Did he hurt you? I’ll kill that bastard if he did.”
Janie shook her head. “No, he just scared the crap outta me.” She put her arms around Will, hugging him tightly. “Will, I heard Arletta telling Clurie to get that gun of hers.”
“Did he?”
“I think so.”
Will rubbed his forehead. “That can’t be no good.”
“You get a hold of the sheriff?” asked Janie.
“Yeah. Shouse called. Told him it was the Burlows and to send everybody.” Will checked on Clurie. “I’ll be damned. Looks like he’s shaking her.”
“We can't let him do that,” said Janie. “He’ll kill her.”
“I don’t think there’s no stopping him once he’s set on doing something,” Will said, shaking his head. “If we tried to stop him, it would probably make things worse. Best thing we can do is go up to the road and wait for the sheriff. He’ll know what to do.”
“I suppose you’re right,” said Janie.
“Well, come on then,” Will said, taking her hand.
While they made their way up to the road, Clurie continued to shake Arletta. “Ma, Ma,” he groaned, watching her head loll from side to side. “Gah ‘ome, gah ‘ome.” He stopped, eyes searching the ground. Finding the pistol, he grabbed it up, hand engulfing the small weapon. He stuffed it in his pocket, then wrapped his right arm around Arletta’s waist. He pulled her tightly onto his hip. Steadying himself with his left arm, he stood up. Arletta’s arms and legs dangled askew and her bloodstained braids dragged along the ground. He started up the slope to the road.
“Oh my God,” cried Janie, pointing toward Clurie.
“What the hell’s he doin?” gasped Will.
Reaching the steepest part, Clurie scrambled up the slope, Arletta still clamped to his right side. He pulled himself up grabbing handfuls of grass while digging his heels into the dirt and pushing. He continued this maneuver as he worked his way up.
Will heard a car approaching. He turned and raised his hands to stop it. A black DeSoto with a searchlight mounted on the driver’s side pillar screeched to a halt. A short man with slicked black hair got out. His ample belly hung over his gun belt. He held out a badge. “I’m Constable Ira Belcher. Identify yourself.”
“My name is Will Johnson and her name is Janie Bates. I’m the one who told Shouse to call the sheriff. Did he send you?”
“I monitor dispatch and since I live close by, I decided to respond.”
“Is an ambulance on the way?” asked Janie. “The woman is hurt real bad.”
Clurie reached the road, still holding Arletta tightly.
Belcher pulled his pistol and drew down on Clurie. “Hold it right there. Put the woman down. Now,” he shouted.
Janie gasped. Stepping in front of Belcher, she waved her hands back and forth. “Oh. No need for that. He’s trying to help her.”
“Shut up. Don’t interfere or I’ll arrest you.”
“But—”
Will pulled her aside before she could say anything else. “Better do what he says, Janie.”
Clurie struggled to his feet and started walking away from them.
“I told you to stop and put the woman down.” yelled Belcher, stepping forward. “If you don’t stop, I’ll shoot.”
Janie broke away from Will and fled down the pavement toward Clurie.
“Janie, don’t,” cried Will. He ran after her.
The faint sound of a siren wailed in the distance.
“Goddammit, you're under arrest, Missy,” screamed Belcher. “Boy, you better catch her if you know what’s good for the both of you.”
Janie ran past Clurie, Will hot on her heels. She spun around, raising her arms and showing her palms in an effort to stop his progress. Will joined her. “You got to stop, Clurie,” she pleaded. “An ambulance is on the way for your mother.”
The siren grew louder. “You hear that? She’s right,” said Will. “That’s the ambulance. It’ll be here soon.”
Clurie stopped. “Ma,” he whimpered, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Ma wan gah ‘ome.”
Janie fought back her own tears. “That man back there is gonna shoot you if you don’t stop. Do you hear me? He’s gonna shoot you.”
“Janie’s right,” said Will. “Your mother don’t want you to get shot. Why don’t you put her down. We’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”
Clurie slowly walked past them to a patch of grass on the uphill side of the road. Dropping to one knee, he lowered Arletta to the grass. He straightened Arletta’s bloody shift, then brushed some dirt from her face.
“Clurie, you got to go with the man,” implored Janie. “Please, just go with him. Do what he says. Don’t make any trouble.”
Belcher had steadily advanced until he was standing next to Will and Janie. He kept his pistol aimed at Clurie. “You deaf, boy? I’ve had enough. I ain’t puttin’ up with no more. Now git up and put your hands behind your head or I’ll make short work of you where you sit.”
“Please, Clurie,” Janie called out. “You got to.”
“Yes,” added Will. “Go with Constable Belcher.” Clurie looked over his shoulder, glaring at Belcher.
“Don’t be lookin’ at me like that,” snarled Belcher. He glared at Clurie. “Now stand up. You’re comin’ with me.”
Clurie looked back at Arletta. “Do it.” she rasped. Her eyelids fluttered, then her jaw fell slack and the air rattled out of her lungs. Clurie reached into his pocket and retrieved the gun.
“Well, boy?” shouted Belcher.
Clurie rose up, bellowing at the top of his lungs. He held out the gun as he staggered toward Belcher. Clurie didn’t fall until Belcher had fired his sixth bullet.
“You murdered him,” screamed Janie. “Why did you have to do it?”
Belcher holstered his pistol. “Missy, you don’t understand. I just saved all our lives. That was Clurie Burlow. Everyone knowed he was a dangerous man.”