The River of Blood

It’s not a river of blood. It’s not really a river of blood.

No matter what I thought, it sure looked like blood. Through the billowing smog in the sky, the sun’s white light stabbed across the river’s murky red surface. Dead fish, tinted red, bobbed in the thick ooze. Clumps of Budweiser cans, plastic Tysod food bags, and Marlboro cigarette butts, held together by black sludge dumped from the factory upriver, swirled in currents too bogged down to whirl. Bubbles floated here and there, filled with the pain and the fire and the ceaseless clang, clang, clang of the smelting rods.

I was standing on the shore, looking back up the hill of the riverbank. My eyes met Arthur’s. His arms were crossed about his chest. He looked down at me and nodded. The gang stood behind him, a bunch of boys chuckling, coughing, and spitting on the ground.

“Told ya,” one said, hitting Arthur on the shoulder. Arthur didn’t look away. “He’s a pussy!”

The gaggle laughed. Arthur smiled, and his cheek scar twisted. “Pussy!” someone called. “Get your ass in the water!”

I looked at the river again and thought about Arthur’s scar. Did lycidic acid cut like that? Arthur worked at Smelt Corp’s factory, where smokestacks towered like sentry turrets over our town. Maybe he’d had an accident there. Yeah, the accident had to be there. No way had the river done that to him. Right?

Arthur worked for Smelt Corp because he was poor, but the entire town of Grand River was poor, grown around the river like a tumor. That’s why someone got shot at the high school every week. Grand High was dangerous. I’d told my dad that the other night at dinner. Earlier, we’d watched a news report about a fight at Grand High. Someone pulled a pistol. That ended that.

My dad jabbed his fork at me, a piece of burned beef on the end. “You need school,” he said. He stuffed the piece of beef into his mouth and chewed noisily. “How else you gonna stop people from tramping all over you? Beat ‘em up? With your size?” He laughed. “No, you ’bout as scrawny as a smelting rod.” He shook his head and looked back down at his food. “You’re gonna have to think your way out. Ya gotta smelt your own steel in this world.”

That was the saying. Smelt your own steel. Funny because Smelt Corp did all the smelting. Or at least, Smelt Corp paid people to smelt, and they always needed smelters. Smelters died a lot, but who would be dumb enough to sue Smelt Corp? It employed half the town. So we scurried around the feet of the factory like servants.

My size. Maybe that’s why I was standing in front of the river. Just like my dad said. Did this count as thinking my way out?

My arms were shaking. I hugged myself and noticed that the river left red residue where it licked at the bank. I turned back to Arthur to speak.

“Is there—?”

“Nope,” Arthur interrupted. He nodded at me. “If you don’t want a cap in your ass next year, you gotta swim. We all did.” One of the boys took a long drag on a cigarette.

I turned back to the river. Lycidic acid turned it red. Smelt Corp cleaned the iron ore with it and then discharged it into the river. I shuddered.

“Will I get sick?” I shouted.

“Only if you’re a pussy,” Arthur said.

The sun peered through the smog. Lots of other rivers would have shimmered. This one glistened like a slug. Lots of Michigan Rivers turned red after the last President let up on water laws. Bad for business. Smelt Corp brought steel plants to Michigan because there weren’t a lot of jobs here. People were dying at the plants, but no one cared. A job was a job. Eventually, though, there weren’t enough adults. So Michigan let up on child labor laws. There was a whole stink about it, lots of protests and stuff. But no one wanted to think that they couldn’t smelt their own steel.

Like my dad. He had to believe that he could do it by himself. Even back in Illinois when he stayed out past midnight running the tractor. Tysod Food Incorporated bought his land for nothing. I remembered that night.

I’d heard him crying from upstairs. I came down and crept up to the table where he was sitting. His hand clutched at an open Budweiser. Then he saw me. “Hey,” he said. I started backing away. He stood, so I started turning. Then he reached down and grabbed me by the back of my head, brought my face close to his. “Don’t ever say I couldn’t smelt it,” he said. “Don’t you ever…” he trailed off. Then he let go, and I turned and ran back upstairs.

Now I was just as defenseless at Grand High as my dad was against Tysod Food because I didn’t know how to use a gun. Maybe that’s why I needed to swim this river. I probably couldn’t even shoot one.

A breeze brought me back to the present. My boxers flapped against my legs. “Come on, ya pussy,” Arthur yelled. I turned, clutching my pale sides. A glowing cigarette dangled from Arthur’s lips now. His arms were crossed about his chest, his leather jacket pulled tight over his shoulders. The other boys watched behind him.

“He won’t do it,” one of them said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Wait,” I called, extending a hand to them. I turned back to the river and saw Smelt Corp’s plant in the corner of my eye. Four smokestacks, towering like a feudal castle over the river. Somewhere in the distance, a gun went off. I stared at the glistening surface again and took a deep breath. I’d be fine. I had to be. They’d all done it too.

I stepped into the river. The slime licked up my ankles and crept up to my knees. Some of the boys chuckled. I stepped forward again. The water hissed and snaked up my waist. My shorts clung to my skin. Invisible pins stabbed at my toes. They’d been submerged the longest. The water was lukewarm. The slimy silt wrapped around my feet. Soon I’d have to dunk.

The water hissed and slipped up my stomach. I looked up. A pile of red foam drifted by. A clump of dead fish bumped against the other bank.

The slimy water lapped at my chest. The current pushed me sideways but was too sluggish to push me down. I turned around. Now to dunk. Arthur had sat, one leg stretched out among the Marlboro cigarette butts and Budweiser cans and the fish carcasses. He took a long drag on his cigarette before he blew it towards the sky, and it rose like smoke from a king’s funeral fire.

My knees bent. I plunged.

Pins pricked at my body. I closed my eyes so tight they ached. Slime oozed over my neck and face. The water gurgled. The current pushed me. I held my ground.

Something hard hit my legs, and I slipped. In surprise, my mouth ripped open. The red water flooded my throat.

I was swallowing fire. My lungs and stomach burned. Sluggish pain shot into my arms and legs. I tumbled through the muck and grime. My feet scrabbled. They grasped the slimy silt. I stopped sliding. I stood. No surface. The water torched my throat. My ears popped with sounds like gunfire. I kicked.

My head splashed to the surface, and people cheered. Arthur and the gang. I spat out the water, coughing. My vision fuzzed. I paddled towards the shore, kicking until I could stand. Electric pins stabbed into my throat and lungs. Hacking and wheezing, I walked from the water.

I reached the shore and sat, still coughing. Arthur was laughing. “You are one desperate motherfucker,” he said. I coughed again and pain shot up my neck. I looked at the river. Maybe that’s why I swam in it. Desperation.

A hand patted my shoulder. Arthur laughed again. “Way to smelt your own steel, kid,” he said, mussing up my slimy hair.

My eyes slammed shut. I bent over and coughed. I held my mouth in my hands. Fluid shot up my throat. It splattered on the bank. The hand left my shoulder. “Shit,” someone muttered.

Silence. The water licked at the shore. Smelt Corp’s plant clanged in the distance. Somewhere else, a gunshot popped. I panted.

“Dude,” Arthur said finally. “That’s not good.”

I opened my eyes.

My blood was caked in the dirt at my feet. My eyes widened. I started to shake. I looked at my hands. They were shining, red with blood.

My vision fuzzed, stomach twisted. I clutched at it and cried out. Fire spread into my fingers and toes. My body was burning. I was dying. Someone talked about calling the hospital. Too slow. Call my parents? They’re at work. Smelt Corp? Call Smelt Corp?

Pain cracked through my body. I collapsed. The wet sand caught my head. Something hissed near me. I opened my eyes. An arm of the river was lapping up the shore. It swept up my blood, claiming it like treasure.