All the Earth, Thrown to the Sky

20

Walking along through what had once been farmland but was now nothing but sand, we came to an old barn that was mostly fallen down. The sky was clear, and night was setting in, and the stars were bright. We didn’t know if Bad Tiger and Timmy were still looking for us, but we stayed away from the road.

Earlier, we thought we heard the Ford’s big engine whining along up over the rise, on the main road. Going first one way, then the other. We heard a door slam, and I thought I could hear men talking. I didn’t know for sure that it was Bad Tiger and Timmy, but I wasn’t interested enough to go up there and find out.

The barn was way off from the road, and it had three good sides and most of a roof. We went inside. There was an old sand-covered tarp in there, and we scraped the sand off with our feet, which took some time; then we took the tarp out into the open air and shook it and snapped the dust off of it.

Carrying the tarp back inside, we laid it out on the sand and pushed it down with our hands and knees and found us a place to lie down. It was the best bed I had been on in a while.

As we lay there, I told them about Strangler Nugowski. I told them what he had done and that he was probably in Tyler, Texas, and Bad Tiger and Timmy were going after him.

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” asked Jane.

“When? During the grasshopper storm, or while we was sleeping last night?” I said. “I ain’t exactly had the time for an in-depth conversation.”

“All right,” Jane said, “you can slide by on that one.

“Strangler?” Jane said. “Really? Is that what his mother named him? ‘Come on in to supper, Strangler. Come on in and wash your hands and I’ll let you strangle one of the chickens for us to eat. Course, you have to wash your hands again.’ ”

“I kind of doubt his given name is Strangler,” I said.

“I’d like to see his birth certificate,” Jane said. “I think it would be funny if his mama named him Strangler and it says so right there on the paper.”

I laughed that time. It wasn’t that funny, but I was tired and everything seemed kind of amusing right then.

“I don’t know,” Tony said. “I wish my name was something like that. I wouldn’t mind being called Crusher.”

“Go on to sleep, Crusher,” I said.

“That poor man,” Jane said. “Them going after him and all.”

“He stole money too,” I said. “And he might have shot someone. He might have shot Buddy.”

“But him taking the money to fix his daughter’s foot,” she said. “That’s sweet.”

“I suppose,” I said.

“Maybe y’all could call me Crusher from now on,” Tony said.

“No,” me and Jane said together.

“We are not going to call you Crusher,” Jane said. “Tony is a perfectly good name.”

“It sounds sissy to me,” Tony said.

“It’s fine,” Jane said. “Tell him, Jack.”

“It’s fine,” I said.

“You say that ’cause you’re sweet on her,” Tony said.

“I am not,” I said.

“Oh, come on,” Jane said. “You are too.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are. You let me put my head on your shoulder all night.”

“I was just being nice,” I said.

“Sure you were,” Jane said.

“Well, you’re the one put your head on my shoulder,” I said.

“It was better than the hard ground or that tree trunk,” she said.

I didn’t have anything to say to that. I was still trying to think of a snappy comeback when Jane said, “I still got the toilet paper anyone needs it. It’s mostly dry, and you can peel off a couple layers you need to go.”

Neither Tony or me answered. I could hear Tony already breathing evenly in deep sleep.

Jane said softly, “We still live.”

Next thing I knew, it was morning.