In Broad Daylight

My junior high school year just started, and my Word! It’s hotter than Satan himself outside.  Because of this blazing heat here in Charleston, SC, some people wind up going crazy as loons, and lose their ever-lovin’ minds. A few of them never recover. Momma says that, anyhow.

School being over for the day, me and my best friend Earl ride to the El Cheapo gas station. He pulls in and parks. 

“Now, Skeet, go in there and just act real smooth. You got one of them pretty-boy faces, and she should just hand them over. Just tell her you’re buying them for your pop, and he couldn’t make it here today or something,” Earl said. 

Earl came up with the notion that he’s gonna show all the girls how cool he’ll look when he lights up a cigarette for the first time after school. He said that girl I been eyeing in math class would be eyeing me back, if I smoked one too. The girl he was talking about is the one and only Lauralee; prettiest girl in the whole school. Earl thinks I’m a few sandwiches shy of a picnic, far as my character, but he says eventually she’ll come around if I stick to his plan. 

I sure don’t want to ask Mrs. Reeves in the El Cheapo to hand me a pack of Camels. I guess she’d probably start staring me down in church and then Momma would ask me questions. Out here in the sticks, everybody knows everybody. I hand Earl the ten.

“Here, bubba, if I give you the money…”

Earl leans his head on the steering wheel and rolls it from side to side, like he’s having trouble understanding the likes of me. He’s laughing on the inside; I know it. 

“Geez, Skeeter, I hope you’re not going to be like this all your life. It’s just a pack of cigarettes. You’re sixteen, man! Ya gotta grow up sometime!!” 

He gets out of the Chevy and slams the car door, leaving it running. Earl nicknamed the car Bear.  It’s a faded, dark brown ’73 Chevrolet Impala. He’s still shaking his head back and forth as he stomps into El Cheapo. 

Earl’s AC is shot, and it’s downright stiflin’ outside, but there’s a breeze coming in through my open window. I lean back in the black vinyl seat and close my eyes. I hope I can smoke cool like Earl, because I sure don’t want Lauralee laughing at me. What if she thinks I smoke funny and laughs anyway? What if—

A fat, oily-faced man peers into the car. He’s wearing a white T-shirt with a whole lot of holes in it. I reckon it’s too small for the likes of him, because the thing don’t even cover his big round gut. I expect on him asking for directions so I lean closer to talk to him.

“Where you headed, Mister?”

“Shut up and make room!!”  

He’s pointing a .32 caliber right in my face! Lord, help me! He’s getting smack dab into the driver’s seat! What do I do? What am I gonna—he’s gonna kill me, oh help me, Jesus. He’s gonna shoot me dead! Where’s Earl? He ain’t done in there yet? Lord have mercy!

The man puts the car in gear and we start to roll. He’s aiming the gun mighty close to my legs with his right hand and holding the steering wheel with his left. The window knob’s poking into my back because I’m leaning so hard against the car door. I promise, Jesus, if You get me out of this, You won’t ever have to worry about me smoking like Earl!

I grab the door handle real quiet-like, so I can jump out, but as soon as I do, my body feels a strong pulling toward the windshield. My head hits it so hard, it’s a wonder I can still see straight.    

“DON’T MOVE!” Get your hands away from that door. NOW! You make me slam on brakes again and you’ll be wearing a serious new hairdo. And I don’t think you’d look good as a redhead, kid.” He started laughing at himself after that. Like a hyena!

He grunts with every hard turn and then makes his way out of the parking place. The car’s squealing and we’re heading plumb into the driving lane! I’m so scared; what in the devil am I going to do? I take a look through the rear window, and here comes Earl from the store carrying a small brown bag. His jaw drops, along with the bag, and he starts yelling and pointing. “That’s my CAR! HEY! THAT MAN’S GOT MY CAR!” The sorry thing is that right now, nobody’s around outside to help him or me.

“Listen, Mister, I don’t have no money with me because I gave it to my friend Earl back there—"

“Did I SAY I wanted money?” He turns off onto a long dirt road.

“Well, no sir you didn’t, but…you see, you can have the car and all; I’m sure Earl would want it that way, but can you please let me out? My Momma will be worried something terrible, and—"

“You talk too much!! Shut your mouth!!”

Maybe he’s a professional, and he preys around, kidnapping teenagers; what if he’s a serial murderer and his road rage starts up just before he kills his victims? My brain spins around in a thousand different directions.

Oh my Lord, I got to get out of this car he’s going to kill me Earl’s still back there maybe he called the police and somebody’s looking for me right now I don’t want to die Momma’s going to cry too young to die I never even had a job before never dated a girl will Lauralee cry maybe so she’s a caring soul….

I look over at him. He is such an awful sight. I'd say he's in his late forties. He’s got these real pale blue eyes, the kind that sharks got. And they bulge out a little bit too, like they’re too big to fit just right in his eye sockets. He’s got a thick head of curly black hair that’s also real greasy, slick as hips on a snake. His gut’s so big it’s squashed up under the steering wheel. He smells like raw onions.

The dirt road is real bumpy and mosquitoes are flying in the car. All these trees and the woods surrounding us makes me think about them Jason movies. Except this ain’t no movie and dang if Jason ain’t driving the car. My heart’s beating so fast I’m fixing to cry. I look out the window and dig my finger into the corner of my eye. Crummy way for me to go. 

I can hear the squeaky sound of the Chevy every time he hits a dip in the dirt. When he does, it swerves just a little toward the edge of the road, then it goes back to the middle of the lane again. He must be doing near fifty, and most folks would probably do fifteen because this is crater territory. I watch him switch the gun to his left hand. He lays it on his side of the dash. I reckon he thinks I won’t try to bail out. I know I won’t. I’d be too scared of getting shot. I don’t never take my eyes off him because murderers can snap any minute. He might blow my brains out any second.                                    

“You got some ‘fraidy hound-dog eyes, you know it?”

I guess that’s how anybody would look if they knew they were fixing to die and can’t even say bye to their Momma.

The gun keeps wobbling around on the dash every time we hit a bump. Maybe we’ll hit a big one and the dad-blasted thing might go off in his face. I don’t know how long this old car’s going to hold up on this dirt road.

“What’s your name, son?”

Now, he’s sitting there so calm. Almost like he had just swallowed some downers. He runs his hand through his greasy curls.

“Skeeter Brewberry. What for? Mister, you ain’t going to kill me are you? Please, I promise I won’t tell a living soul about you. I got a real bad memory and I ain’t too good with faces or names or nothing.”

“Well, you listen here, Skeeter Brewberry. Skeeter. Brewberry. What’s the world coming to, with a name like that? I’ll tell you what it’s coming to. It’s ending. Listen, this road ought to lead somewhere nice and quiet, huh?”

I don’t say nothing. My throat’s growing a big lump and I can hardly breathe. When he kills me, I hope he don’t lollygag around. I hope he’s real quick with it. It sure is lousy Momma won’t have no grandkids. She loves youngsters. Earl will probably miss me too, even though I’m plumb near aggravating most times.

The air is so humid and hazy I figure I’ll probably die now from the heat instead of a couple of minutes from a bullet. My stomach feels like I’m tearing around on a roller coaster. I look down and see I got these big red welts all over my arms. I ain’t even felt the mosquitoes drain my blood. I can’t stay close enough to my side of the car door.

Only one I can call on now is Jesus. Always seen pictures of Him in books and paintings, but I might get to see what God looks like for real, here in a few minutes. 

I get an idea and look over at him. “Sir, do you know Jesus?” 

He picks up Earl’s used toothpick from the open ashtray and puts the thing right in his mouth to chew on. “I don’t care about Jesus. Or about nothing else you got to say.” 

“But Sir…. "

“No more yakking. I heard enough. Done thrown Jesus in the picture,” he said, shaking his head.

He reaches his right arm over to me and grabs my forearm. "You scared, son? Huh? We'll find out."

He lets my arm loose and now I'm feeling so sick I could vomit right in the floorboard. I can’t breathe so good and I put my hand up to my heart. It feels like it’s going to beat its way right out of my chest. My head feels dizzy and I sure wish somebody was around to call for help. Anybody at all!

The Chevy’s squeaking noise is getting louder every minute. I’m wondering which way I’m going to die—the heat, a bullet, the car plowing into the trees, or just from being plain scared. And right when I’m wondering, I get my answer. We hit a dip so low and fast my head bangs the top of the car. It breaks the inside light and my head immediately feels wet. The car swerves way to the right and a cloud of dirt comes up from everywhere. We’ve run off the road and into a ditch. First thing I do is hold my head because it’s throbbing just like a regular heartbeat. He wiggles out of the car, much like a fat cat trying to get out of a box that’s too small, and walks up the slope of the ditch to the dirt road. I can hear him ranting and raving.

“GET OUT THE CAR, NOW! GET OUT AND COME HERE! HURRY UP ABOUT IT!” 

He’s just hollering and motioning to me with that gun. My mind wants to get out and run away, but my body is frozen in terror in the seat of the car. 

“Come here son, get over here!”

Good Lord, he’s really gonna…

“You keep SITTING there and I’m going to shoot both your kneecaps first! GET OUT OF THE CAR!”

I stumble out of the car, and climb up the incline toward him real slow, still holding my pounding head. I can’t help it. Tears are rolling down my face and I’m bawling like a baby.

“Please, Mister, please don’t do it…”

I stay a good distance from him, but I’m still looking straight into them pale shark eyes. They look even paler through all these blasted tears. I reckon he knows I ain’t coming any closer, so what does he do but walk toward me! I ain’t never felt like this before; my heart is sinking just like a sack full of drowning puppies. I don’t know what in the world to do, and he’s getting closer. I can’t stop crying and I have to keep taking big gasps of air. 

He reaches me and stands right in front of me real close. The gun is in his hand at his side. His gut touches my chest and he looks down at me. I’m still bawling. I ain’t believin’ I’m going out like this; right in broad daylight!! I close my eyes real tight and beg the Lord for mercy.  

“Open your eyes, kid, and don’t be a coward! It don’t take but one shot. You game?” He chuckles at himself again with that same hyena laugh. I ain’t never thought about murderers joking with you before they killed you.

“You ever used one of these before?” he said.

“Yes sir, I….me and Earl…shooting…soda can pyramids…”

“Good. Then I don’t have to show you. Just do it quick and right between the eyes,” he said, and then he pointed to his forehead. He handed me the gun.

“I’m going to stand right over here, now. Do it quick, son. And don’t bother running beforehand, because if you do, I’ll find you and rip your beating heart out with my bare hands, you hear?”

Self-defense, it’ll be self-defense, that’s all. My hands are shaking so bad. Lord have mercy, I’ve never heard of nothing like this in all creation. He don’t even look phased. He’s just standing there picking his teeth with Earl’s toothpick. I sure don’t want to kill nobody, but I don’t want to die, neither. I’m just standing there looking at him with the gun aimed straight at his chest. Sweat is running down my face. It drips over my eyebrow and to the ground. I look down and see that it’s not sweat, but blood from the gash in the top of my head. 

“There’s only one bullet in there, boy. That’s all it takes. Do the job. If you miss, I’ll break every single bone in your body.” 

I’m so terrified, I fire right then, shaky hand and all. The shot is deafening, and a million black birds fly out of the trees. He staggers backwards and slumps a little. I got him in the hip. He’s holding onto his side with both hands. The blood is pouring out from between his fingers as he falls to his knees. I'm standing there in shock. I slowly bring the gun down to my side. 

“Mister …”

“YOU IDIOT! I SAID BETWEEN THE EYES! I’LL RIP YOUR HEART OUT! I’LL KILL YOU RIGHT NOW!” He’s breathing real heavy now, but he sure ain’t going nowhere. Now he’s laying plain flat on his back. He rolls back and forth in the dirt like a turtle that fell over backwards and can’t get back up. His blood drips into the dirt, covering his white shirt in crimson. 

I just drop the gun and run.  It’ll take me a while to get back home. Call the law first, but after that, I’m gonna tell Momma how scary he was, and Earl how I nailed him in self-defense, and Lauralee, she’ll think I’m a dad-blamed hero…