All the Earth, Thrown to the Sky

17

I sat up front with Timmy at the wheel. We hadn’t gone far before he turned on the radio, but all he got was a sound like someone rubbing a jagged rock over sandpaper. He turned it off and hummed a little, whistled a few bars, then went silent.

I started trying to pay attention to things. I had grown up on a farm and I knew weather, but on direction I could be iffy. I was never like Daddy, who could get up in the middle of the night and be spun around and still point true north. He always knew which direction was which, and he could tell time by the sun, and there were times when he wasn’t in sight of the sun and he could still tell you what time it was within five to ten minutes. He could hear a dog run across the yard in the middle of the night. But I never really picked up his skills. Heck, maybe they couldn’t be taught. Maybe they were inborn and I just didn’t have them.

I watched out the window to see if I could locate the sun, but it wasn’t high up yet. There was a lot of light from one direction, and since it was early, it stood to reason that was the east. That was where the sun rose on its way to the middle of the sky, and then down on the other side into darkness.

Okay, I decided, we were finally traveling south, because the sun’s strongest light and the warmest spot was on my left shoulder, and the shadow from the steering wheel lay across me. Yes, to the left of me was east, to my right was west, and that meant we were heading south, and into Texas.

I was just sitting there with my mind on that, when Timmy said, “You ever cut up anything alive with a knife, boy?”

I glanced at him.

“No,” I said.

He grinned. “It’s an experience.”

He went back to driving, fished a toothpick out of his shirt pocket, and put it in his mouth. “It’s going to be a hot one,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t lost my hat. I’d like it better with my hat. It gets hot, a hat keeps the sun off, but mostly I’m just used to wearing it.”

“Shut up about your hat,” Bad Tiger said. “Just shut up and drive.”

I glanced at Timmy. He swallowed heavily, like what he was choking down was a green chicken gizzard full of bile.

We come to a little town with a filling station. We was still in Oklahoma, because painted on the buildings were signs with the town’s name and Oklahoma on the end of it. I didn’t point this out to Bad Tiger and Timmy, and I hoped Jane wouldn’t. It was all right we knew they were lying the night before, but it wasn’t a good idea to let them know we knew.

When we were parked in front of the station, they pulled at their coats so their guns were well hid, and Bad Tiger said, “Any of you talk, it better be something you’ve always wanted to say, ’cause it’s going to be your last bit of chat. Timmy, you stand outside with him till he puts in the gas. Then go in and get us something to eat, some Coca-Colas.”

“Some tissues or some toilet paper would be nice,” Jane said.

“Those are your last words?” Big Tiger said.

“Nobody’s come out yet,” she said.

Bad Tiger grinned. “You like to push it, don’t you?”

Timmy slammed a fist down on the horn. It made me jump. Timmy looked at me and laughed.

“Nervous?”

About then a young man in coveralls strolled out from behind the station and Timmy started to get out of the car. Bad Tiger said, “And don’t forget the toilet paper, they got any. They don’t, get some paper towels. The lady here, she likes it tidy.”

Timmy got out of the car and told the station man to fill it up.

When it was full, the boy checked under the hood and checked the tires, and then he and Timmy went inside the station.

After a while I heard a pop, and Timmy came out of the station with a bag of groceries. He put them on the seat between us and started the car.

Bad Tiger said, “You didn’t need to do that. It just makes it hotter for us.”

“How was I going to pay for it? My good looks?”

“You didn’t have to shoot him,” Bad Tiger said.

“You said that,” Timmy said, pulling onto the road. “But if it makes you feel better, I just shot him in the foot. He ain’t going to go tell anyone anything quick-like. And he ain’t got no phone in there. I asked if I could borrow it, just to see. That gunshot, it didn’t sound like nothing. We’re off scotfree. At least enough to get us down the road a ways.”

“Yeah, well,” Bad Tiger said. “You better hope so.”