Drawn to Light

Chapter One

David and Sammy looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes and quickly stood up on the pedals of their bicycles so they could pedal faster as they headed directly to the base of Indian Mound, which was about fifty yards away. They had planned the outing for several days and now that the time had come they could hardly wait to begin their exploration of the fabled mound of dirt. It didn’t really matter who got to the mound first; the race was just the icing on the cake. The real treat would be what they would find in the mound. Having grown up in southern Indiana, the boys had heard for years about how Indian tribes had populated the area before colonies of palefaces, as they were called, took over and flushed out the native inhabitants. They were glorious stories and, more than once, had made Sammy wish he had been born an Apache or Arapahoe, or Comanche, even though he didn’t know if he had it in him to be a warrior. But since the mound was pretty far from where they lived, their parents had never allowed them to ride their bicycles there. Finally, the two boys had worn them down. David’s parents had seemed more comfortable with the trip than Sammy’s. Even though the distance from their houses to the mound was around five miles, the trip itself was mainly on roads seldom traveled and thus less dangerous. There was even a half mile of gravel road, but the boys did not let that stop them. Surely today was the day many questions would be answered.

Indian burial mounds are scattered throughout the Midwest. Some tribes honored their dead by building the mounds on high, dry ground in order to give their ancestors a beautiful view for eternity. In some areas it’s actually a felony to disturb such areas which is a headache for many developers who would like nothing more than to build high-rise condos on the same locations. It won’t happen without much legal wrangling. Even in death the Indians have legal woes. Some people discover too late that they cannot build a garage or an addition to their property because it sits too close to ancient, holy land. The value of their property immediately drops when that is discovered. History must be preserved, say the politicians. It might appear to some that Indian tribes get more respect dead than alive.

David and Sammy knew little of the legal and political history of the mounds, nor did they care about it. Mainly what they did know was that Indians had been buried on top of each other and, over the years, a mound had been formed into what could be called a small hill. And in this hill, buried under who knows how much dirt, would be bones, Indian artifacts, and probably even weapons, they hoped. Their mission for the day was too find as many of these things as possible.

Of course the area was fenced with NO TRESSPASSING signs placed every few yards apart on the fence that surrounded the base of the mound, but it would take more than that to stop the boys. Breathless, they both arrived at the fence at the same time, applied their brakes and, skidding in some loose gravel, gently place their bikes on their sides. Then, standing with arms akimbo, they surveyed the scope of their adventure. They immediately decided to walk around to the back of the mound so no one could see them as they climbed over the fence. It took them only a few minutes to walk to the back. They were only slightly surprised to discover that other adventurers had solved the fence problem for them by cutting some of the wire and spreading the fence apart far enough to allow the boys to walk through.

Guess we’re not the first ones to brave the ghosts of the past, David said. I hope those who went before us didn’t anger the ancient fathers. He laughed.

Too late to worry about that now, said Sammy, as he looked at his compass. Of course he didn’t need a compass, but who goes on an adventure without one? Look over there, he said. There’s even a path to the top. I think too many others have beaten us to this treasure. We’ll be lucky to find anything.

On this far side of the mound there was a small creek that flowed gently toward the road they had come up. There were some large trees which had limbs hovering over the creek. Some brave soul had climbed one of the trees and tied a rope to a large branch that leaned out quite a ways over the water. The rope hung straight down, tempting them to grab it and swing from the sloping dirt out of the water, maybe even dropping into the creek if the water was deep enough. David and Sammy looked at each other and, without a word, realized that they would have to take the challenge before heading for home.

With that decision made, they began the ascent to the top of the mound, glancing to both sides of the path as they went up, hoping to see bones or tomahawks sticking out of the ground. They both had brought paper bags to put their findings in. In addition, Sammy was wearing a lanyard around his neck that he had woven in Boy Scouts. On a clip at its end was a whistle which would come in handy if they got lost or saw any wild animals that needed to be spooked. The twelve-year-old boys seemed to be ready for all contingencies.

Hey, what’s that? asked David, spying something poking through the ground. Bending over, he fished it out. Looks like the part of a necklace or something, he said. I remember my mom talking about Indian beads. I’ll bet that’s what this is. He gently lifted the artifact out of the ground and blew the dirt off, not realizing he had found what was probably nothing more than some fossilized remains of some historic creature. The cylindrical stems of what looked like vertebrae were open at each end, suggesting that they were made that way to be strung into a necklace, while in reality it was probably for nerves to travel, but to the boys it didn’t matter, for the day was beginning well. They both scooped up the few beads that they saw and placed them gently in their paper bags. No doubt their next discovery would be a skull with a hatchet buried in it, proof of a violent death at the hand of a savage.

Hey, Sammy, do you know what poison ivy looks like? asked David, as he paused to look at some vines.

Nope, I’ve never seen it. Guess we’ll just have to cross our fingers that we don’t run across any. I’m glad we didn’t wear shorts. That should help. It was the best response he could come up with. His cousin had once gotten into poison ivy while fishing, and Sammy remembered hearing how terrible it was to deal with, so he hoped for the best. On the other hand, it would be a small price to pay if they found something really neat, he thought.

The path wound from side to side as it progressed to the top of the mound. There were trees and various vines woven among them, but the boys couldn’t have cared less about that. They were not there to admire nature. When they were about halfway up, they paused to look back at how far they’d come. It was impressive how far they had come in fifteen minutes or so. They were sweating quite a bit and found themselves fighting gnats and mosquitoes. The gnats were especially irritating as they swarmed around the boys’ eyes. Dang these gnats, growled David. He took a red bandana from his rear pocket, wiped his face off, and tied the bandana around his forehead to catch the sweat. He thought he looked neat. Sammy would have done the same thing, but he had neglected to bring a bandana or even a handkerchief. He silently cursed his stupidity. He would simply have to tough it out, he concluded.

As the boys continued their climb, they began putting their hands on their knees to help propel them upward. It was becoming more difficult than they had thought it would be, but neither would suggest turning back. That would be worse than the weary bones they no doubt were going to have when the adventure was over. Sammy began to think that maybe swimming naked in the creek when they were back down might be a great way to cool off, even though he had never done such a thing before. He didn’t know if he’d have the nerve to suggest it to David or not. The idea sounded kind of nasty to Sammy and he wondered how he came up with it. He had never been naked out in public in his life, even though he had heard other boys at school boast of doing such a thing. He didn’t know if he could go through with it or not or if he could even mention it to David.

By the time Sammy had pushed the idea out of his mind, he and David had climbed closer to the top. They had found no more treasures, but to be honest, they really weren’t looking all that hard now. They were concentrating on surviving the climb. They even had stopped talking. Finally, after another ten minutes or so, they arrived at the top and immediately flopped down onto their backs and waited for their panting and sweating to stop. They closed their eyes and remained motionless.

It took you jerks long enough to get here, said a voice out of nowhere.

Moving more quickly than they thought possible, David and Sammy opened their eyes and sat up. Leaning against a tree as he chewed on a long stem of grass stood Eugene Pritchard, a kid in their grade at school and known as the school bully. He had failed a couple of times, so he was much larger than David and Sammy and, to make matters worse, his voice had already changed so he had a growl in everything he said. What are you gonna do now? he queried. And what do you have in them bags? For some strange reason he pinched himself after saying this.

The boys looked at each other as they desperately tried to plan what to do. They knew very little although they knew enough to know that they were in trouble. They had a feeling that Eugene was not going to let them go without giving them a hard time. His reputation at Riley Elementary was legendary. He had been a bully as long as they had know him. Perhaps being overweight added to his problems. At any rate, he did a great job of bullying. Not much, squeaked David. Just some crummy rocks. He quickly determined not to let on to Eugene that he might have found some Indian beads worth a small fortune. We are going to throw them at the fish in the creek when we go back down, he said, quite pleased with himself for coming up with a quick lie.

No shit, Eugene said as he took a bite from a Payday candy bar. Immediately the pressure on David and Sammy increased tenfold, for neither of them cussed and Eugene had crossed that line, no doubt not for the first time. Sammy’s Adam’s apple began bouncing up and down as he swallowed nervously. Lemme see, Eugene said.

David offered up his bag, trying his best to will his hand to stop shaking. He didn’t succeed. Eugene smiled.

Whatcha shakin’ for? he asked, even though he knew the answer to his question.

Nothing, David said, hoping to get away with such a weak answer.

Yer not goin’ to pee your pants, are you? Eugene added, enjoying himself. Neither boy said a word.

Eugene turned David’s bag upside down, spilling the artifacts onto the ground. Nothin’ but a bunch a rocks, he said. Dope. He wadded up the bag and threw it at David. What about you? he asked, scowling at Sammy. Sammy gingerly handed Eugene his bag, wishing he could throw it into Eugene’s face. Without even looking inside, Eugene crumpled the bag and threw it to the ground. Hope you don’t mind, he said, with an evil smile on his face. Stand up, he said to both boys. Take yer clothes off, was his next command. David and Sammy froze. This was going too far, they both thought immediately. They looked at the ground. Did you go suddenly deaf? Eugene yelled. Take yer clothes off! His low, growling voice carried much authority. Without knowing how far they would go, both boys began undressing. When they got to their underwear, they both stopped. Well? sneered Eugene. He spat to further intimidate them. Closing their eyes, they took off their underwear. Standing with their hands folded in front of their genitals, they waited for the next humiliation. Sammy had noticed, however, that David was circumcised, whereas he was not.

Yer both pathetic, you know that? Move yer hands. I wanna see. Too afraid to do otherwise, David and Sammy complied. Jesus, Eugene said, you both could pass for girls, you know that? Sammy began to cry. See, what did I tell you? Yer cryin’ just like a girlie. You should wear panties. He laughed at his joke. David remained firm but continued looking down. His face had a resolute look on it.

Eugene continued to look at the boys, enjoying how ill at ease they were. He absent-mindedly picked his nose and wiped his prize on his pants. When he saw Sammy staring at him, he laughed, picked the other nostril, and wiped the residue on Sammy’s bare arm. Sammy almost vomited. No one had ever done anything like that to him before. David stared straight ahead, his eyes glazed over.

I’m bored with you two wussies, Eugene said. I’ve got other things to do anyway. Start walkin’ down, he said as he wadded up their clothes. Because they had left their shoes on, David and Sammy were able to walk without much difficulty. Even so, Eugene found reason to poke them in the back with a stick he had conveniently found. It took far less time to reach the bottom of the mound than to go up. Once there, Eugene took the wadded-up clothes and threw them into the creek. Good luck, girlies. See you around. With that, Eugene threw his stick at them and waddled away. David and Sammy ran along the creek bank until they were even with their clothes. David waded in, shoes and all, and retrieved the clothes. Forcing themselves to ignore their nudity, they stood opposite each other and twisted the clothes to wring as much water from them as possible before putting them back on. It wasn’t easy, nor did they succeed in getting much water out. Like it or not, they would have to put them back on wet and hope that they could get into their houses without being seen. They had little choice in the matter. Sammy had the urge to tell his parents, hoping they might somehow get even with Eugene, but on second thought he realized that would probably, somehow, backfire. He concluded that he would have to deal with what happened in another way. He felt he needed revenge, but he certainly had no idea how to go about it. Bullies were not easy to deal with. He hoped David felt the same need for revenge, but he had a sinking feeling that he didn’t. David seemed to be recovering a lot more quickly from the trauma of what they had experienced than he was. Early in their friendship Sammy had realized that David was more mature than he was, even though they were the same age.

As they walked back to their bikes, they said nothing. Sammy regretted crying and hoped that David never brought it up. It was clear to Sammy that David was in many ways stronger than he was, and he knew that there was little he could do about it. He also wondered how their friendship would handle what had happened. Only time would tell, he knew.

When they reached their bikes, they saw immediately that all four tires were flat. Eugene had let the air out of them as his final insult. He had even thrown the value-stem caps away. Oh well, said David, once again demonstrating his maturity, maybe we’ll dry out some as we push our bikes. There’s a gas station about a half a mile up the road. And off they went. It was an adventure they would not soon forget.

Chapter Two

Eugene forced himself to walk faster than he really wanted to, which wasn’t easy, for he had a feeling he was taking too long to get back home and he didn’t want to upset his old man or bring any unnecessary attention to himself. He bent over and picked up a few rocks from the gravel which lay at the side of the paved road and took aim on some blackbirds which were having a discussion on some utility lines above him. As he released the rocks he knew his chances of hitting one were slim, but he didn’t care. The challenge was automatic and enough in itself.

He hitched up his bib overalls which kept trying to fall off his shoulders. He knew that he was probably the only boy at school who still wore overalls, but he didn’t give a shit. During the summer months, he even went without any underwear. Of course no one could tell, but the sensation of his dick swinging freely made him feel especially nasty and he liked--actually sought after--that feeling. He had decided to go without underwear after a terribly embarrassing incident at school. Once a year, both boys and girls had to line up for some sort of medical exam. He was faintly aware of something called ringworm and had a vague idea of how contagious it was and how it would cause the poor fool who had it to scratch constantly. But it was not ringworm that caught him with his pants down, literally. For some reason which no one ever explained to him nor did he have the courage to ask, boys had to drop their pants in front of a doctor who then put his hand on the guy’s dick and balls. The boy was then told to turn his head and cough. It was incredibly stupid to Eugene but he knew he would have to do it. When it came his turn, the doctor looked at him for an unusually long period of time and then said to the nurse next to him who was taking notes: Put down undescended testicles for this young man. You don’t need to cough, my friend. Next. Eugene was incredulous. He hardly understood what he had just heard the doctor say, and he knew that others in the line must have heard it too. This suspicion was immediately confirmed when he heard Ron Brown, who had been standing right behind him, say, No wonder we can’t kick you in the balls, Pritchard. You don’t have any! Eugene’s life changed dramatically at that moment. He knew he had to figure out a way to compensate for this embarrassment. It was no time at all before he decided to become a bully. He was happy to have or to do anything that would make his classmates think twice about him. He liked his bully image. Having no friends didn’t bother him in the least. He was even aware that some of the teachers were slightly intimidated by him, so he always tried to be unpredictable. The only teacher who made him think twice was Miss Marsh, the school principal. Besides being principal, she taught eighth grade and tolerated no nonsense. Perhaps her flaming red hair helped her be so strict, he had thought more than once, but whatever it was, everyone in school moved to one side as she walked through the halls. More often than not, she was on the prowl for someone who had tracked some mud into the just-cleaned hardwood floors that the janitor took such pride in, or maybe someone had managed to jam one of the spigots in the water fountains scattered throughout the building. That was always a challenge that Eugene had conquered several times. Once, in the boys’ bathroom, he had loosened the pipes that brought water into the top of the urinals. It had made quite a mess. Although everyone suspected him, he had made sure the room was empty when he did it, so there were no eye witnesses and the matter had dropped. Even so, he was pleased to think that everyone knew that he had done it. Another time he had put so much toilet paper in one of the toilets that it had overflowed. He had leaned against one of the bathroom walls laughing as boys on either side of the toilet lifted their feet and tried to scurry out of their compartment before seeing a turd float between their feet. His thoughts turned back to his dad.

As a last-minute attempt at self-preservation from his dad’s wrath, Eugene decided to stop at McCormick’s corner grocery store not far up the road and buy his old man some Red Man chewing tobacco and some pop for himself. Perhaps that would soften him up a little. Even though Eugene was underage, the owner of the store knew him and his old man and felt it was worth the risk to sell to Eugene, for, like everyone else, Mr. McCormick wanted nothing to do with Lester Pritchard. As a matter of fact, no one in Vincennes wanted anything to do with him, because he always seemed to be half-drunk or mad about something, looking for a scapegoat to dump his frustration onto. He limped which helped add to the idea that he was probably drunk. Eugene had no idea why his old man limped. It was never talked about and he certainly wasn’t going to ask. It was just another thing for Lester to curse about, another problem to deal with. And whatever the problem was, it was never his fault, of course. Lester’s wife, Molly, had learned that lesson long ago, and, like Eugene, she always hunkered down as much as possible in hope that Lester’s verbal and physical abuse would find another source than the two of them. More often than not, it was wishful thinking. Even though Lester did not discriminate whom he leveled his fury upon, his wife and child were always the closest and, by default, the best victims. They bore his treatment as stoically as possible, not knowing how to avoid it. Both Molly and Eugene longed for the time when Lester would drink too much and maybe have an accident on the way home or stumble in front of a truck as he walked about the neighborhood, trying to remember where he lived. His need to find someone to ask for help was always fruitless, for his nocturnal meanderings usually took place in the wee hours of the morning when few people were out and about. Somehow, though, he always managed to find his bearings and stagger through the front door of his dilapidated home. More than once Molly had to get up and shut the door which Lester had carelessly left open. Lester, in the meantime, usually fell face down on the couch and remained motionless for the rest of the night as the alcohol he had imbibed coursed through his body, sapping brain cells and attacking his liver without mercy. The alcohol was patient, knowing that in time it would weaken his defenses and conquer his system when it reached the point of no return. His demise would be sad but not that all unusual, for throughout time individuals had turned to mind-numbing ways to relieve themselves from being unable to cope with life’s burdens. Rather than light a candle they preferred to curse the darkness, and that made them happy in a perverse way.

The screen door of McCormick’s grocery store slapped the bell which was stationed above it as Eugene walked inside the store. Hey, everyone, here’s another customer! the bell heralded. Hopefully it would be a customer with deep pockets. In this case, however, it was only Eugene Pritchard. Mick McCormick smiled ruefully as Eugene walked toward him. He had a pretty good idea of what the boy was after. This was not his first visit to the store by any means.

Hey, Eugene, what brings you to this neck of the woods? Mick asked, hoping to bring a little happiness into the boy’s life. On the prowl for some girls?

Naw. I’m on my way home from Indian Mound. Just thought I’d waste some time up there this morning. Not much else to do in this dump. Eugene was his pleasant self.

School’s out for the summer, ain’t it? asked Mick.

Yeah, and I’m bored already, said Eugene. Might go fishin’ tomorrow, he added.

Guess you go to the gravel pit, don’t you? asked Mick. That could be dangerous, you know. Lots a deep holes there, waiting for someone to fall in. Can you swim?

Kinda. I can dog paddle some. I’m not afraid, though. I’m always careful. He said this, even though he knew his weight was against him. There was no use in denying it: he was fat. But let someone else say that, and the jerk would have a black eye in a heartbeat.

Anybody who drowns would say they were being careful, said Mick. But I don’t think you want any advice from me, even though it’s free. He hoped to lessen his comments with a little humor. It didn’t work.

"I don’t give a shit if I do drown, Eugene said. Mick was not the least bit surprised. Gotta go one way or ‘nother when it’s yer turn." Quite the philosopher, thought Mick.

No reason to ask for trouble, Mick said.

Bullshit. It will find you whether you ask for it or not. I didn’t come in here to chat, anyway. Gimme a couple pouches of Red Man and put it on our account. He thought about saying please but quickly dismissed the idea as stupid.

Sure, said Mick. Tell your old man that his bill is now approaching fifty dollars and that he needs to come in and pay some of it down. I can’t go over fifty. He knows that.

Soon as I catch ‘im in a good mood I’ll tell ‘im, Eugene said sarcastically.

It’s better he hears it from you than from me when he comes in and wants something but can’t have it. You know that.

Indeed he did. Somehow Eugene knew he’d be blamed for that situation when it happened. That would probably be cause for another beating with the razor strop. Hopefully he would have enough warning to put some newspapers in his pants before the beating began. It had worked before.

Gimme a Dr. Pepper too, Eugene said. I kin pay for that, and he forked over a dollar bill. Mick gave him his change.

You’ll need to drink it here or I’ll have to charge you for a bottle deposit, said Mick.

Man, you don’t give up, do you? Whadda I owe you, another nickel?

Yeah, that’ll cover it, said Mick. Thanks.

Eugene didn’t respond. He never had said You’re welcome in his life and he didn’t intend to start now. He began swigging his soda. After a couple of gulps, he belched and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He hoped Mick would react, but the man just stood there, staring at him. This’ll be beer one of these days, Eugene said.

Yeah, I suppose so, said Mick. Your dad has taught you well.

You leave him out of this, barked Eugene. I do whatever I want to do. He can take a flying leap.

Mick decided not to respond to such a silly statement, for they both knew that wasn’t true. Eugene’s bravado was for show only. He must need it, thought Mick. Eugene took another swig of his Dr. Pepper and grunted when some liquid spilled over the top of the bottle onto his bib overalls. He silently cursed and wiped his mouth once again with the back of his hand. He had noticed some time ago that his upper lip didn’t seem quite right. It was quite thin compared to his lower lip. He had spent much time in front of the bathroom mirror, wondering about it. Of course he couldn’t ask his parents what was going on. They probably didn’t know anyway, he thought. So he simply concluded that when he was old enough he would grow a mustache to help disguise the problem. That seemed like a simple enough solution. He knew that no kid was stupid enough to make fun of him, so he was content to let time help him solve the problem.

Their conversation was shortened when Mrs. Barnes walked in and went toward the meat counter. She motioned for Mick to come over, so he gladly did so. He was getting quite tired of Eugene’s attitude, even though he knew that the boy had deep problems. Hell, he had problems of his own; he didn’t have any time to give to a kid. He turned his attention to Mrs. Barnes.

When Mick stuck his head inside the meat display case, Eugene took that opportunity to help himself to a bag of Planters Peanuts. They would go good with the soda, he knew, so he picked up the bag with the chewing tobacco and began walking out the front door.

Hey, kiddo. Did you sign the bill? yelled Mick.

Without saying a word, Eugene turned around, went back to the counter, and impatiently wrote what looked like Eugene as though written by a doctor. He had no reason to make his handwriting look readable. Only saps did that, he had concluded some time ago. He couldn’t write very well in cursive anyway, not that he gave a shit. He figured that he might need glasses but that wasn’t going to happen. He then gave the finger to Mick’s back and once again began walking out the door, hoping his peace offering would do its job when he was standing in front of his old man.

As he continued his journey homeward, he put his hand in his left pocket and felt some strange objects there. Pulling them out he saw that they were the valve caps from the boys’ bicycles. He smiled to himself for letting the air out of their tires. He couldn’t care less that they would have to walk to a gas station to fill the tires up with air. He could have done a lot more to the bikes; maybe he would next time, and he felt there really would be a next time. He recognized David and Sammy as being in his grade at school, although he didn’t know their last names, not that it mattered. He had sized them up as wimps early on and was pleased to have found them on top the Indian Mound this morning. He had watched them from their arrival at the base of the mound, and savored the time it took for them to get to the top as he planned his strategy. His only disappointment in it all was that they didn’t cry more. Only Sammy had sniffled. The other kid would be harder to crack, Eugene noted. He would concentrate on him the next time he caught them alone. He had a reputation to keep up, after all. He smiled in anticipation and pinched himself. It was a habit he had recently begun without explanation. He didn’t enjoy doing it, naturally, and he was certainly self-conscious of the red marks on both arms, but he didn’t quite know what to do or how to stop the pinching. He chalked it up to simply a nervous habit and, if and when it turned into something more serious, he had decided to ignore it as much as possible.

He devoured the peanuts with the Dr. Pepper. He thought they probably tasted better because he had bought them with his five-finger discount. Finally finished, Eugene gave the bottle a sling. It landed precisely in the middle of a stop sign and shattered. Proud of himself, Eugene gingerly walked around the shards of glass and continued toward the corner of Wabash Avenue and ninth street. He was quite close to home now and needed to plan out his story if his old man questioned him. He kept his fingers crossed.

He looked at the pouches of Red Man and stopped. Why not? he asked himself. The pouches were poorly closed by only a seal on the top fold. With a little encouragement, the seal released itself and remained intact. Eugene felt he could surely lick it and put it back in its place. His old man would never notice that it had been opened. He took a cursory smell and was both pleased and surprised. It had a sweeter smell than he thought it would have. He didn’t quite know what to do, so he took just a small pinch between his thumb and forefinger and placed the tobacco between his lower lip and teeth, as he had seen his old man do. It immediately stung his gums and startled him. Not knowing what to expect, he just stood there until he grew accustomed to the sensation. Saliva gathered in his mouth and he resisted the temptation to swallow. He felt that was a no-no. He needed to spit, but didn’t quite know how. He pursed his lips, blew out his cheeks, and let loose. It was quite a scene, nothing like when his old man spat, he realized. He almost laughed, which caused him to inhale and, without meaning to, he swallowed a bit of the brown liquid. It burned going down and he thought he was going to puke, so he spat out as much of the rest of the liquid as he could. Then he turned down an alley, just in case he did throw up, and moved quickly. He leaned up against the back of the Devlin’s garage to wait for the nausea to pass. He knew he had to tough it out. He took out his pecker and peed against the garage. His stomach continued to burn and he could taste something very unpleasant at the back of his throat. He knew he was going to puke in a couple of minutes, so he began to walk down the alley and look around to take his mind off his troubles. The various garbage cans stank and most had scores of flies hovering around the top of the rim. Most of the sides of the cans were dented from being thrown down carelessly when the garbage man was through dumping the refuse into his truck. Lids were almost nonexistent.

Eugene continued on his way to the end of the alley. This was not the first time he had used an alley as a shortcut and to look for treasures that someone might have thrown away. He pushed over the next trash can he came to. It spilled into the dirt of the alley with nothing but garbage inside and immediately got the attention of a black cat which had been surveying the alley form its perch on some cement blocks. One of its eyes was filled with puss and an ear looked bloody. Unafraid, it immediately jumped down and ran toward the stinking garbage which was strewn in one of the ruts left by a recent rain. Eugene took advantage of the situation to pretend the cat was a football and tried to dropkick it for an extra point. Luckily for the cat, Eugene missed by a few inches. The cat ran behind the overturned can and waited for Eugene to move on. It hissed at him menacingly. Eugene wished he had a slingshot to teach the cat a lesson. There was no way he would ever like cats. Maybe next time....

He stopped in front of another trash pit and looked carefully at the partially burned trash. He grabbed a limb that was conveniently lying next to the pit and began poking around, moving the dirt and garbage. Something caught his eye. He dragged it closer to him. It was a cap gun, a pistol. The plastic on the handle had burned off, naturally, but the rest of the gun looked pretty normal. He couldn’t imagine why someone would throw away a cap gun. He pulled the trigger but it only partially worked. Eugene immediately concluded that he might be able to make it work again with a little elbow grease. At least it would give him something to do for a while and use up some time. He hated to be bored.

As he prepared to move on, he piled a few leaves and old newspapers in the corner of the pit and took out a book of matches from his back pocket. He lit some of the drier leaves and stepped back, watching them all catch fire. He loved fire. Eventually, he turned and walked on.

When Eugene got to the end of the ally where it emptied onto ninth street, he realized that his stomach seemed fine now, so he turned left and stood before his house. All was quiet; he had no way of knowing if his old man was home or not. He put the cap gun under the steps and then walked up to the porch and toward the front door. He listened carefully for sounds that would tell him what to do. Nothing. Shrugging, he opened the door, made sure he had the pouches of Red Man, and walked into uncertainty.

Chapter Three

Lester Pritchard looked at the tip board sitting on the bar. He knew he should ignore it, that he would just be throwing his money away, but, as was always the case, he gave in and punched out 10 small, folded pieces of paper. It didn’t take him long to discover that,