Chapter 1
They had been walking for a while. She on the road, and her son on the insideby the hedge. The boy trod on dried mud, his soles overprinting the larger tractor tyre treads.
"Will you stop that? You'll ruin your shoes"
She heard a clattering and grumbling of a diesel. She turned around, but there was no sign of it, save for the sound. She held on for a minute, the boy carrying on along the raised dirt. There it came: a large, white, rusting van. She stuck out her thumb, and it stopped. Behind a hat on the dashboard, there was a dark haired man at the wheel. He lunged accross to push the door open.
"Howya. Where to?"
"Just into town there"
"What town is it?"
"Muck - where the road goes... Aren't you going there yourself?"
"Well, if that's where the road goes, that's where I'll go. There's no use fighting it. There's not much room to turn on this shit of a road. Hop in."
"Zack." the boy came back and followed her into the cab. The cab was large and smelled of dry cigarette smoke and the green cardboard tree hanging from the rearview mirror. Aside from dust and dried mud and packets of cigarettes, it was empty.
"Are you waiting there long?" She looked ahead, at the road, as he pointed to the windscreen and said, "Oh, just in time, eh?" The wipers screeched across dry glass, but slapped back, pushing the water drops from the glass. They'd only just got there, and they were obviously not welcome, but more of their kind came along anyway.
"Zack; there's a name you don't hear often. Howya, my name's Tommy. Tommy McDonagh." He held out a hand.
"It's short for Zachary. That means 'Remembered by God'. Say hello, Zack" The boy looked at him, and he at the boy, then at her. Then, he looked back to the winding road and the van shook them as it moved off.
"Like driving an earthquake" he said and smiled, looking at her. The van veered from one direction to the other, his hands pulling the wheel this way and that, the frequent bends taken by not reigning in the errant steering wheel.
He was there in the road as they turned around yet another random turn. He was standing beside a car crumpled into the ditch. Water dripped from his cap, over his coat and joined a pool at his boots. He had his pen to his notebook, but was facing the van as it came round the bend. He raised his hand, and Tommy stopped.
"How can I help you Gard?" The Gard looked straight across the cab to the girl.
"Mary."
"Shea"
"Mary, what in God's name are you doing?" I'd've thought you'd have more sense..." he looked at Mary, the boy, the driver and back to Mary. She looked at the dashboard, and when she looked back at him, she saw his head down, his face blushed. He looked up at the driver and said "Well, what about you?"
"Tommy McDonagh" he said cheerily enough. He held up the pink license, and the Gard waved it away. "I'm just looking for maybe some casual work. But, I'm a philosopher really. I'm travelling the land, seeking truths." The Gard gave him a look.
"And how's that going?"
"Not great. It’s kind of nihilistic out there"
"God bless. Lookit, what are you doing here" No one replied. No one knew if he was talking to her or him. Not even the boy. "Sweet Jesus, it's unusual to find a traveller with nothing to say." The Gard hung his head, then lifted it again, wiping away his last words with a thick, wet hand. "Lookit, I shouldn't have said that. I'm a reasonable man, but... but... Lookit, what is it you're looking for?"
"Nothing in particular Gard."
"And, are there more of ye coming?"
"No sir. I'm on me lonesome" The Gard looked at him for a moment, then spoke across him.
"Right: Mary, anyway, you and the boy come with me. I'll drop you home."
Looking through the windshield at the road, she said "There's no need. Tommy here is bringing us."
"Mary." She didn't move her head. "Alright. Well, look here. This is a small town. We don't need any casual traders, let alone fucking philosophers. You make sure she gets home alright. Mary, I'll be phoning you at home in twenty minutes. Now, you may be out with me, but if you don't answer I'll be looking for Plato here." He looked at Tommy, even as he spoke to Mary.
The Gard walked back to the wreck punched into the ditch, and glanced back to them. Once again, they all shuddered as the pile moved off swerving along the road.
He picked up a cigarette box, opened the lid and looked in. He threw it over his shoulder into the back of the van, and picked up another. This he also threw into the back of the van. All the time, the van wavered around the road. As he picked up the third, the boy leaned across and handed him a box, the lid opened, one cigarette left.
"Thanks Zack." He looked over; the boy was looking through the windscreen, the van going from side to side as he overcorrected the steering. "As long as she stays on the tarmac, we'll be alright." He said it in a tone of voice, and looked sideways to them; they both looking out the windscreen, not even hinting at laughing. He groped around his shirt, and pants (the van taking more violent swerves as he searched his pants). He pulled out a lighter, got a flame, and waved the lighter around the base of the cigarette, waved the base of the cigarette around the lighter. He got it lit, and hastilly wound down the window. "Hope ye don't mind..." They didn't respond.
He turned the radio knob, but no one could hear anything over the engine, the seats, the doors, the frame of the shopping trolley automobile. He left it on anyway. At last, they came round a bend to see upturned earth, steel and concrete behind a wire fence. “Bit of work going on here then!” Tommy said, the boy and the woman looking through the windscreen. Suddenly the boy sang in a haunted voice, as if his eyes were wide open in a thousand yard stare*:
“I was living in a
Didn’t know it was a
Oh Lord it really brings me down
About the
Over a small bridge just past the building works, they were in the town; on the main street. They passed a church on the right. It was the biggest building in the town, but its position at the end of the main road left plenty of scope for a knot of newsagents, pubs, bookies and draperies. It was a small road, a small town. “Where to now?” he asked. He pulled the van over. The woman looked at him, as if she was about to speak, but instead fell backward, and another voice, a man’s voice spoke instead: “Mary, what the hell are you doing? Have you finally lost your fuckin’ marbles? Why would you get a lift from a fucking tinker? Why?”
Tommy stepped out of the van, walked around the front and faced them. The man was not long since a boy, and he held Mary’s arm as she pushed herself up off the road. The boy stood by, singing his song:
“All my friends were vampires
Didn’t know they were vampires
Turns out I was a vampire myself
In the
“Will you shut the fuck up, you little….”
“Hey, hey! That’s enough now. What’s the problem?”
“Look, we don’t want your kind round here. Why don’t you fuck off back to where you came from?” The manboy’s voice was tight, there was no conviction, and less courage.
“I’m only passing through. I’ll be gone in a day or two. I don’t turn round, anyway, always go forward, never back. You can never go back.” His voice was conversational. Then, he moved forward and said “Now, will you let the girl go?” He wasn’t really asking. He lifted a huge arm, and put a huge hand around the manboy’s neck. For his part, the manboy let go of her to put both his hands to the task of removing Tommy McDonagh’s grip. She and the boy got back in the van. “That’s enough now.” His voice, again conversational, left the manboy with nothing to do but give him a look, mouth open. Tommy pushed and released, and the manboy ended up on his backside, looking up, not moving. Tommy got back in the van, and it shook alive again.
“So, that’s twice now I’ve helped you out, and the only time you’ve talked to me is to tell me where you were going. Do you want to do that again?”
“Home.” She said. “I’ll show you.”
*The lyrics here are to the song "Devil Town", by Daniel Johnston
No comments:
Post a Comment