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  As he closed the hood, he heard a call, weak and faraway but a call, regardless. He turned and swept the light in the direction of the sound.

  +++

  Larry was smelly and gross but more importantly, he was strong. Stronger than Wade would have thought when first seeing the old hobo. Try as he might, Wade just could not break free. That didn’t keep him from trying, not in the least.

  The rough pavement beneath him scraped his side, pulled his shirt up and cut deep into his young, tender flesh. Though awful, the pain of his skin peeling was in no way a comparison to the fear he felt rising. Wade and Fear were well acquainted. They knew each other well as only those that spent intimate time together could. He knew what was on Larry’s sick, perverted mind.

  “Please,” Wade called, his voice already growing hoarse.

  “No use in begging, boy. I gotcha and I ain’t letting go.” The hobo’s voice was deep and gravelly. Wade knew the cause: cheap tobacco and cheaper whiskey.

  If Wade could cry, he would be doing so now. Great sobs of terror. But that was the one thing he could not, would not do. It was one thing already wrong in his head. The tears just would not come.

  “Help,” he called, his voice as weak and hoarse as before and it carried no farther.

  “Shut up, boy. Stop it. I’m warning you. I’ll make it worse for you.”

  “Funny thing is,” a strong voice spoke, barely above a whisper but ringing clear. “I was thinking the same about you.”

  Two things happened at once. Larry shot straight up like a bolt. He didn’t turn but his attention was had. Wade, for his part, gulped in a huge lungful of air. When the man standing behind Larry swung one arm, connecting precisely on the sharp edge of the old man’s chin, the geezer flew more than five good feet into the brick wall of the building housing the shoe shop. After striking the wall he collapsed like a rag doll.

  While amazed, Wade was not about to stick around and watch the rest. For some reason he had been handed a chance to flee. He did not intend to waste it. He kicked off like a sprinter. Ignoring the sounds of struggle behind him, he ran. Ran as fast he could. Down the alley, out onto the street. A car horn honked, tires screeched, barely missing Wade. The driver leaned out the window and yelled something at the boy. Wade didn’t hear it. Or at least not well enough to make out the words.

  And he didn’t care.

  Wade couldn’t do many things, being a young child of nine. One of the few things he could do, was run. And run he did. He ran down dark streets and darker alleyways, giving no thought that there could be another Larry hiding away in the shadows.

  He ran as far and as hard as he could. Then he ran some more.

  After what seemed like hours but could have only been half of one, at the most, Wade stopped, exhausted.

  That had been close. There was no telling what Larry had in store for him if that stranger had not come along. Wade didn’t want to think about that.

  He did, however, wonder about the stranger. There had been a time or two in the past, when, through no intention of their own, adults had stumbled upon someone trying to harm him or steal from him. He was, of course, appreciative, but he could not be thankful for their intentions, only their presence. This had been something else altogether. Whoever that stranger might have been, he had stepped in of his own volition.

  And what a punch that had been. Wade, fleeing, had barely caught it, but he was glad he had. He gritted his teeth and grinned in delight recalling it now.

  Then again, maybe that tall man had only wanted to skip over Larry and have his turn with Wade. It was not beyond the realm of possibility. In fact, Wade could more believe that line of reasoning than he could that the man meant only to render assistance.

  He’d heard it said time and time again. People were good. Yet, time and time again, he’d witnessed just the opposite.

  It didn’t matter now. The tall man had done what he had done for whatever reason and here he was, unharmed and unmolested. There was still the question of where he would sleep the night and where he would find his next meal. Those were questions that came around all too frequently.

  Wade looked around. He’d ran from the storefronts and buildings into a small city park. Huge oak trees swayed in a useless and hot breeze. The wide and deep grounds were green with summer grass. Benches and bushes sat randomly about.

  Wade didn’t like such open spaces. Not at this time of night when anyone could plainly see he had no business there. A street ran parallel to the park but as of yet, not a single car had passed. The oaks offered some shadow, but they fell shallow and short. Damned streetlights and their attack on shadows. Wade, without thinking, started moving back toward the dark edges of the buildings. He did not have to consciously decide what to do in such cases. His survival was more habit than theory.

  Just as he stepped from the soft grass onto a sidewalk, a car appeared ahead of him, and he tucked tightly to the side of the building not facing the road.

  The car, a very nice one, fancy even—he was unsure of the make as he never learned much about things like that—passed slowly. Wade could make out one lone occupant but noticed the driver’s head did not tilt in his direction.

  As the car passed, Wade breathed a sigh of relief. Bone weary, he was. The ham, what little of it he’d had, was gone and he was both hungry and thirsty and oh so tired. He needed to find somewhere to rest for the rest of the night. His chances of finding something to eat would improve drastically once the sun rose and the little town around him started to stir. He would lose himself in the hustle and bustle and no one would give him more than a curious look before heading off to start their day. Or so he hoped.

  That’s when the lights fell across him. He was just standing up, deciding in which direction to wander. He moved but even as he did so, knew it was too little, too late.

  The car eased to a stop in front of him. The driver’s window was down and that now familiar voice spoke again. “There you are.”

  Chapter 3

  Luthor had no clue what in the world had come over him. He did not care for children in the least. They required a certain kind of patience that he simply did not possess. Nor was he altogether concerned about acquiring such patience. Still the dusty little boy from the alley intrigued him.

  Marigold was no grand place, sure enough, he was no fan of the place. Still, it was not the kind of municipality one would expect to see such a ruffian child.

  If the hobo and kid were somehow acquainted, that would go a long way in helping him to understand. He did not think this the case as there would be no reason for the boy to cry out for help. No, Luthor was convinced their meeting in such an odd place was nothing more than the kid’s bad luck. Thanks to Luthor that had changed. It was now the hobo’s worse luck.

  The kid was young, scrawny and his clothes dingy. Not something you’d see at such late hours around town. Maybe in the barnyard of a farmer’s home. Maybe up in the bigger cities where such a deplorable thing was as ordinary as birds in flight. Luthor had, twice, ventured to New York City and once to Chicago. He’d laid eyes upon similar sights and things much worse, besides. But not here. These small towns at the very top of Mississippi were not known for homeless youth. Poor people, hard hit folks after the horrible ‘30’s and now a great war, yes. Homeless children, no. Hell, there was practically a church on every corner and those pious old shits that controlled their congregations would not have such a thing, if nothing more but a sieve to their collected tithes.

  “Kid, are you alone?” The boy said nothing. He did not move. He did not attempt to run. “I can see you. You know that? Being still does not make one invisible.”

  “What do you want?” the boy said. He was doing his best to be brave.

  “Why are you out here by yourself?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “Never said I did care. Did I? Perhaps I’m only curious.” Again, the child fell silent. “I’ll take a wild guess and say you were pilfering for food when tha
t old geezer came at you. Would that be a fair assumption?” No words, but the kid did open his mouth as if to speak but closed it again.

  “I don’t have all night. My wife and I, we have an extra room.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?” the kid asked in a very country accent. Luthor couldn’t help but snigger to himself. The kid might be alright.

  “By the looks of you, a hot bath, a few meals, maybe even a soft bed would be welcome.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?” Luthor answered. The kid had to be half starved. As tough as he was letting on, he stepped closer to the edge of the sidewalk, closer to Luthor and the Studebaker.

  “Why would you do that?”

  “It’s the Christian thing to do, isn’t it?” The boy screwed his face up like the thought was just too preposterous to contemplate. “I’m not going to bother you. Not like that man back in the alley.” Something struck a nerve with the boy.

  “Sure,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

  “It’s late. You can stand there and wait for a better offer if you want.” Luthor made a show of looking up and down the street. Nothing stirred. “I doubt one will come along.”

  +++

  Wade decided he probably wouldn’t be getting a better offer this night. While it was perhaps not the wisest course of action for a boy of nine to climb into a car with a perfect stranger, an adult stranger, it would not be his first time. In fact, he’d crossed this proverbial bridge more than a few times. Both women and men. It didn’t usually end all too well, but the promise of food was a powerful negotiating tool. He was sure the man knew that, but his prospects around this dusty little town did not look good. Besides, this man could be no worse than others that had offered a helping hand only to deliver a slap to the face or a punch to the gut with said hand.

  The man introduced himself as Luthor Duncan. Wade gave the man his name as well. At least his first name, which was really all he had. Luthor had Wade knock the dirt from his shoes before getting in. After that, Mr. Duncan slipped the car in gear and away they went. Wade had been hoping for a short ride, but as Luthor pulled the car onto a highway, he saw that would not be the case.

  Tires hummed as the Studebaker picked up speed on the good, even road. For a while Luthor said nothing and Wade, keeping a watchful eye on him, remained mum. The inside of the car was grand, even luxurious to Wade’s young eyes. He’d been in his share of automobiles but none so nice as this. The seat was comfortable. Plusher than a sofa, it was more like sitting on a mattress.

  “Where are you from?” Luthor finally asked. Wade looked at him. He was dressed well with tie and dress slacks. He looked decent enough, but Wade knew looks, more times than not, were deceiving.

  “All over I reckon.” The man nodded.

  “Guess your parents won’t be looking for you?” Ordinarily such a statement would set off an alarm in Wade’s conditioned mind. However, the smooth, nonchalant way Luthor spoke it, had the opposite effect. The man already knew the answer.

  “No. Suppose not. I won’t be looking for them either.”

  “Would you like me to switch on the radio?”

  “Nah,” Wade said. “I like it off.”

  “I do as well, at times.”

  “You a businessman?” Wade asked. Luthor looked at him before answering.

  “You could say that. I’m in insurance.”

  “A salesman?” Wade had no opinion on salesman, though everyone he’d heard some folks bring them up with obvious disdain.

  “When I have to be.” It was Wade’s turn to nod.

  “Looks like business is pretty good with this car and all.”

  “I work hard,” Luthor said. Wade couldn’t think of anything to say to that and looked out the window as the dark landscape rolled by.

  “That hobo in the alley,” Luthor began. “I figure you come across bad apples like that all the time.”

  “Are there any other kind of apples?” Wade asked and he felt good when the man let out a small laugh.

  “I suppose you’re pretty close to the truth on that. It is dangerous, don’t you think, to be roaming around like that at night.”

  “Not like I had much of a choice.”

  “I understand that.” Luthor looked back to the road for a minute as two cars passed going in the other direction. When their headlights passed over him, Wade saw he had a thin face with a nose like a hawk. “Let me ask you, what would you have done if he tried to hurt you?”

  “I would have hurt him too, if I could.”

  “How so?” Wade shrugged his shoulders.

  “I had a rough life when I was young. Probably something like yours, Wade.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Why?” Luthor asked quickly. Wade wasn’t trying to anger the man, but no one like him would ever end up a businessman with a suit and a fancy car. He said as much.

  “Who told you that?”

  “Nadine and Stella and Morris, too.”

  “Who are they? Your parents?”

  “No,” Wade said shaking his head. “Just some people I know.”

  “Are they the same people that left you behind in that town?”

  “How do you know I was left behind. Maybe I live there. In town.”

  “I don’t think so.” Luthor looked his way, but Wade turned before the man could meet his eyes. “I haven’t a clue where you’re from, but it isn’t Marigold. That’s the name of that little hamlet if you didn’t know. I figure you’ve been on your own quite a bit in your short years. I figure you’re as tough a kid as there ever was. I bet the people that you associated with didn’t always treat you well. Am I right?” Luthor’s voice was low and calm, his words even and clipped, but Wade felt his cheeks grow warm. His bottom lip began to tremble. “No reason to be embarrassed by the way the world has treated you, Wade. I do not care what Nadine, Stella, Morris, or anyone else has told you. You aren’t to blame, and neither was I.”

  “I’m not embarrassed,” he said but he sounded like a baby about to cry, and he hated himself for it.

  “You’re very young yet. I wasn’t much older when I decided to change my circumstances.”

  “You use a lot of big words.” Luthor looked at him, and Wade expected a tongue lashing at the very least. After all, that’s what happened when you spoke an opinion, in his experience at least, but the words had come, and they were true, and he could not take them back. To his surprise, Luthor gave him a small, sincere smile.

  “I do, don’t I. Please look over me. I prefer to speak eloquently as possible without sounding foolish.” Wade did not know what the man meant but nodded out of politeness. “However, back to you. I’d say I was around eleven when things got as terrible as they could, or at least I thought. My father, he had a penchant for the spirits. Not to say the supernatural, no, alcohol is sometimes referred to as spirits. He was drunk. My mother, the whore of Babylon I call her now, hated him and loved him and was disgusted by me, her only child.

  “Do you know what changed? Do you know what gave me the courage to crawl out of that pit of hell and take charge of my own life?”

  Wade wasn’t sure what the man wanted him to say, what the correct answer would be, but he felt he must say something.

  “No, sir,” Wade said, shocking himself with the last. Wade had rarely before used manners in speaking with anyone. There had never been any point. The man smiled after it though, so it was good.

  “I realized, young man, that there were two types of people in this world. There are the predators and the prey. You are either the wolf in the night or you are the sheep that fears it.”

  Wade understood that. He liked that. He liked that a lot. As he sat there in the big car with the strange, yet kind man, he imagined himself not the sheep he’d always been but the wolf, the thing they feared.

  “I want to be the wolf,” Wade said.

  “Good,” Luthor answered. “Very good. Just keep in mind, saying so isn’t good enough. You have to d
o it.”

  Chapter 4

  Luthor eased the car onto a turn-off just outside the town of Farmington. They made a few turns and then took the drive leading to the Duncan home. He watched as the boy’s eyes grew wide as the car eased past a stone gateway and down a pea-gravel car path. The car’s lights revealed a two-story Antebellum home, with attention to fine detail and intricate millwork. Luthor had to admit to himself it sure was nice to be home.

  The property encompassed approximately three acres and beyond the house, slight rolling hills gave the whole place a look of an understated royalty. Off the east side of the house, situated behind, was a large outbuilding. The size of a small barn, he usually parked his car there but for the time being, he pulled to the front of the house. He still had not made his mind up completely about the boy and he still needed to see how his wife would feel about his invitation for the boy to stay overnight and get a good meal, at least.

  He killed the engine. “Well, here we are, Wade. Welcome to the Duncan’s.” The boy was still staring wide-eyed at the place.

  “You really live here?”

  “Yes, of course. You like it?”

  “It’s a big old house.”

  “I suppose it is. Listen, I’m going to ask you to sit on the porch while I go and speak with the missus. I’m sure she won’t mind the company, but I would like to discuss it with her first, you understand.” Wade nodded, a shadow appearing to cross his face. “Don’t worry, I’ve brought you all this way. She won’t refuse you, but you’ll learn, sooner or later, you have to deal with the fairer sex very gently at times.” The boy nodded.

  “Yes…sir,” he said the last almost as an afterthought. Still, he’d said it and Luthor liked that.

  “You’ll find the rockers comfortable and the swing as well. I shouldn’t be too long.” Wade nodded, and he stepped up on the porch as Luthor walked to the side, to enter through the kitchen door.