Hap and Leonard by Joe R. Lansdale

Author:Joe R. Lansdale [Lansdale, Joe R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781616962531
Amazon: 1616962534
Publisher: Tachyon Publications
Published: 2017-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

“Naw. I thought I was fucking with my brother.”

Leonard pulled the rope on the motor and the motor caught and away we went.

Eventually we turned the boat around and headed to Marvel Creek. We weren’t as scared with a motor to speed us on. Nobody shot at us again, and we didn’t see August and Jaret. When we got back to Leonard’s truck and fastened the boat on the boat rack, I used the pay phone outside the feed store to call the cops. I told them about what we had found. I told them about August, Jaret, and Tom. I told them about the bodies in the boat and about the dope. I gave them a kind of overview of all that had happened, and did my best to indicate where the sunken boat was. I didn’t give our names. I didn’t want to be pulled into it. I didn’t trust how the law would take our presence. They might think we were a part of the whole thing.

We went home after that, and the next day I read in the local paper how the Robbie family, which was the first time I’d heard their last name, had been arrested for murder, and how the law found Tom’s body on their property. They were digging a hole out behind the house to bury him when the law came up with a search warrant. Eventually the Robbie boys, perhaps with the persuasion of rubber hoses and phone books upside the head, admitted they had killed the family, and showed the law where the sunken boat was. Of course, there was no more dope. The man’s and the woman’s bodies were claimed, but they didn’t find the child.

About a week before Christmas I read in the paper that the kid’s remains were found caught up in some stumps and brush. There wasn’t much left of him by then, of course, but it was the child alright.

The little black mammy figurine, which was about the size of a chess piece, quit being one of Leonard’s fishing sinkers. He fastened it to his key chain, and when he gets a new ride, he always moves the figurine to his latest set of keys.

Sometimes, I lay down at night, and there, in the dark of my dreams, swirling around and around, is that poor unfortunate child, his head blown apart. It’s a dream that’s been with me so long, I can from time to time wish him back into a swirling cloud of shadow, push him and the knowledge of what some people can do to others, far away from me.

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