Wilson Tucker by The Long Loud Silence

Author:The Long Loud Silence [Silence, The Long Loud]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-06-09T17:19:57+00:00

More than an hour had passed since the overeager Harry had shot out of sight, when the silent Jonesy spoke for the first time. “Eh … kid?”

“What do you want?”

“I’d like to talk to you, if I may.”

“You’re doing it.”

“You didn’t fool me, young man. Poor Harry — yes, but not me.”

“Poor Harry is a damned fool,” Gary retorted. He lay outstretched on his belly, chin buried in the dirt and the treasured shotgun cradled in his arms. Gary’s senses were alert, his eyes and ears directed toward the distant river “So?”

“I have watched you, of course, since we came upon you. Army, weren’t you — or perhaps the Marines? You could have jumped Harry a dozen times today — there were plenty of opportunities. And you could have taken the gun away from me any time you wished. But you didn’t, you deliberately held off. Why?”

“I wanted Harry — or somebody — to tackle the river,” the corporal answered.

“I realize that. I realized what you were trying to do when you introduced the marine gear and yet passed up an opportunity to seize the gun. But why? Why didn’t you swim across and let us go hang?”

Gary grinned and the macabre humor of it was reflected in his voice. “I’m no test pilot, Jonesy. I think up the ideas and let somebody else try them out. If Harry makes it, I can — later on and at another bridge.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll know the soldier boys over there are wise to that angle, too. And I’ll have to figure out another way.”

“I see,” Jonesy said and lapsed into silence.

“This gun,” Gary said after a while, “where did he get it?”

“From my store.”

“Your store?”

“A sporting goods store where I worked before the … the disaster. Near here, so to speak. Harry wanted a good shotgun and I selected that one for him.”

“Where’s yours?”

“I don’t have one — Harry wouldn’t permit it. And I’ve never fired a shot in my life.”

A short distance away the thin old man lay on the ground, openly weeping and oblivious to those around him.

Gary asked in annoyance, “What’s the matter with him?”

“Scared, lonely, lost. He is Harry’s father.” The former merchant paused in speculation. “I suppose I’ll have to look after him if Harry doesn’t come back.”

Gary fingered the stock of the shotgun, tracing it with his fingertips. “This is a new one on me. What is it?”

“The gun? A Browning Automatic, one of the best of my stock. You’ll find it an excellent weapon: full choke and the very best steel, the magazine holds five shells in addition to a sixth in the chamber. The retail price is a hundred and twelve dollars.”

“Knock it off, I’m not going to buy it. Got shells?”

“Yes, quite a few. In Harry’s bag, there … “

“Thanks,” Gary said dryly.

“I’d like to ask one more question if I may?”

“What?”

“This afternoon when we came upon you sitting there in the field, fussing with the underwater apparatus … eh, you knew we were behind you, didn’t you?”

“Heard you coming a mile away.

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