Charlie Fairlaine, who’d picked them up not from this very
spot when they’d been heading north, revved the truck again and started off
down the road, heading for home.
Freddie Merrill said, “What’d you say to him to make him
kick us outta the truck?”
“I didn’t say nothing!” Tommy exclaimed. “He didn’t want his
dad to make us clean the barn.”
Freddie stared at him, shook his head, and said, “I guess
we’d better get walkin’ then. A hundred miles is a long way and I’m pretty sure
we been gone a long time.” He looked at the creamy truck as it faded into the
distance on the flat road. “At least the Socialists, the mobsters, and the
Anoka Witch won’t be bothering us anymore.”
They sighed together looked backward, then followed in the
fume trail of the creamery truck.
The summer sun was well risen on their right when
Freddie said, “What if we have to walk past Charlie’s farm?”
Tommy stopped, shaded his eyes, looking into the rising sun,
then turning west. “Our shadows are long,” he said.
Freddie sighed again, adding, “That just means that it’s
really early and we have a long, long way to go.” He started walking. “How long
do you think it’s going to take to get home?”
Tommy ran to catch up to him. “Why you all fired up about
getting home?”
Freddie shuffled along for a long time before he said, “I
guess having a bed to sleep in is better than sleeping in the grass.”
Tommy snorted. “You got a bed. All I got is the couch.”
“But your dad don’t use you for a boxer’s speed bag.”
Tommy couldn’t say anything about that. “My dad’s old.”
“Yeah?”
“You didn’t let me finish!” Tommy said, “He’s a Socialist
which is like, the next thing to a Communist.”
Freddie didn’t have anything to say about that. They walked
for a long time and the sun climbed a few inches into the cloudless sky. “Gonna
be a hot one.”
“Yup.” They walked. A tractor futtered past them, the old
farmer waving a finger but not slowing at all. “Creep,” Tommy said.
“Yup,” said Freddie.
They continued walking and a few miles later, passed a fancy
sign that pointed west and read, “Fairlaine Creamery”. Tommy said, “That’s why
we didn’t have to worry about passing Charlie’s farm.”
“I forgot this turn.”
“I didn’t.”
They walked as the sun climbed into the sky. After a while,
they crossed a small bridge over a culvert. Both boys stopped to peer over the
edge and even though there was dirt and sand, there was no water in it. “I’m
getting thirsty,” said Freddie. “If we don’t drink something soon, I think I’m
gonna dehydrate or something.”
“Yup,” Tommy said, looked both ways, then stood up and
started walking south again. After a while, he said, “I think the left side of
my face is getting sunburned.”
“Me, too,” said Freddie. “And I sort of feel sick. Like I
didn’t drink enough water or something.”
“That’s stupid, of course you didn’t drink enough water.
That’s why you’re getting dehydrated!”
Freddie stopped and shoved Tommy, “Don’t call me stupid!”
“I can call you stupid any time I want to – but I’m calling you
stupid now because you ARE stupid, stupid!”
Freddie crouched to charge Tommy when they heard the roar of
an engine coming out of the north. Freddie screamed, “It’s the Communists!”
Tommy looked both ways again and rushed Freddie, tackling him of the road and
into a ditch alongside where they both splashed into the butt-deep water that
smelled like rotting weeds.
Up on the road, an old truck – one that looked so familiar
that both boys laid flat down in the mud, muck, and water, their eyes wide,
white, and bulging out of their reddened, blonde faces. It roared past without
slowing and was gone in an instant. But they lay in to water until the leopard
and pickerel frogs around them began to croak again. Finally Freddie said, “I’m
cold.”
Tommy sneezed and said, “I’m molding.” Freddie looked at him
and busted out laughing. They both scrambled to their feet and after a few
minutes Tommy said, “Water’s running. That way,” he pointed south. “We wait a
few minutes and we can scoop up enough water to keep us a while. “They we can
keep going.”
“What about the Socialists?”
“First of all,” said Tommy, “They ain’t gonna want to drink
out of a ditch...”
“That’s not what I meant, stupid!” Freddie snapped, balling
his fists.
“I know. I’m trying to make us laugh.”
“Why?”
Tommy looked up at the road and said, “‘cause I think the
Socialists are still after us.”
