The Poison Flood by Jordan Farmer

Author:Jordan Farmer [Farmer, Jordan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2020-05-05T00:00:00+00:00

II

TWISTED LITTLE MAN

THE DUGOUT

I spent my days in the woods with the music books, reading and practicing until the mysterious graphs made sense. The Reverend never checked on my progress. His absence made me wonder if I’d done something to offend him. Maybe he knew I’d been spying on him with Lady Crawford only nights before. Perhaps I’d been walking around with the accusations of false prophet chiseled across my face. It would be nice to believe some guilt ate at his conscience, but I suspect he just didn’t have time for me. Whatever it was, we avoided each other like sore-tailed cats until one morning when I came up from the creekbank to find him waiting for me. He was dressed in his black suit, shoes polished for a house call.

“The Lord is calling Brother Maynard home,” he said. “We need to pray together. Bring your guitar.”

Before he joined our church, Brother Maynard belonged to the same snake-handling and mountain-magic congregation as Lady Crawford. I saw him once without his corduroy jacket, shirtsleeves rolled up to expose the knotted scar tissue from several bites. He terrified me. If copperheads and timber rattlers couldn’t kill him, I doubted any illness would manage to finish the job. I didn’t want to go but knew I couldn’t refuse my father.

Brother Maynard lived behind the baseball field near Bradshaw Elementary. The diamond wasn’t quite regulation size. The distance from the pitcher’s mound to home plate was noticeably shorter than standard requirements and center field wasn’t wide enough to warrant its third outfielder. Despite these shortcomings, it entertained kids and adults a few nights each week. Since it was a rare source of distraction, the school paid Brother Maynard a small sum to work as groundskeeper. He did a decent job with the upkeep, paying special attention to the grass, but the diamond looked rough that day. Right field was a barren patch. The remaining crabgrass blighted until the ground was mostly mud. Rain had washed away the chalk lines. Even the signs that covered the outfield fence and advertised for local businesses peeled paint. Only CARVER MUSIC, with the new addition of a golden saxophone spilling musical notes from its mouth, looked fresh.

The Reverend parked the truck in front of the one-story house and climbed out carrying my guitar. I followed down the concrete walkway, past a broken dog chain that wrapped around the trunk of an elm. Its rusted links lay coiled atop the tree’s surfacing roots. I thought I heard an animal howling in the distance, but once the smells of sickness met us at the front door, I realized the sounds were coming from Brother Maynard.

Lady Crawford stood in the hall with her mouth hidden behind a painter’s mask. She pulled it down under her chin and offered a smile.

“How is he?” The Reverend asked.

“Worse. I think the Lord will call him soon.”

During the ride, The Reverend explained that Brother Maynard had been suffering from agonizing headaches. He finally took

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.