All That I See - 02 Read Online Free PDF Page B

and knees. He was so wasted, that he didn’t even act like he felt the pain from his wounds. The bandaged stump was scraping around on the dirty trailer floor.
    “Know what I’m gonna do, y’all?” he said, grinning. “I’m gonna feed ‘im cow pies.”
    “Do it, Corndog!”
    He dug around in a pile of cow manure that was caked along the inside edge of the trailer and pulled away a handful. He looked up at me and started laughing.
    “C’mere you. Got sumpin for ya.”
    The men outside cackled.
    He threw it at me, but I easily dodged it. Some of the dried manure had reconstituted from the rain, and Corndog had it on his fingers like mud. He used it to streak his cheeks.
    “Look ever’body. I got war paint. I’m a gol dern injun!”
    Then he stopped laughing and got a serious expression on his face. His gaze shifted. It was like he was looking at something miles away.
    “Hell’s bells, y’all,” he whispered. ”Ever’thang is…ever’thang….”
    He fell on his face and stayed.
    “Corny?” one of the men laughed. “C’mone, Corndog! Cut his nuts off!”
    I limped over to him and rolled him over. He was dead.
    The men laughed. I looked up at them, wondering what was in store for me. They ignored me. They just kept laughing, slapping each othe r on the back and left me, heading back to the ExpoCenter. I picked up his machete and jug of rum then went back up to the front of the trailer to wait.
    I spent part of the night in the trailer. The men--there were eight that I could see--built a big fire near the ExpoCenter and stayed up late drinking, laughing, and sometimes fighting. When I was sure they weren't looking, I tried to pry the lock off the latch for the trailer's gate using the machete, but I couldn't get it to budge.
         I searched Corndog's pockets. I found a pack of cigarettes with three left, a Zippo lighter, and a wallet. It wasn't his wallet; it belonged to another man, or at least the driver's license did. There was $2 ,000.00 in $100 bills in there.
    I had not been wearing my coat when I ran out that morning. I had on a T-shirt with a long-sleeve denim shirt over that. It got cold that night, and I was miserable. When I was sure the men had all gone inside the ExpoCenter to sleep, I took some of the dry cow manure, splashed a little rum on it, and started a small fire. The stuff smoked a lot, but it kept the chill away. A couple of swallows from the jug helped, too. A couple more swallows, and my head, arm and ankle didn't hurt so badly. After a couple more, I was beginning to think again.
    I was hunched over the cow patty fire with my hands near the flames when it dawned on me--the floor of the trailer was made of wood. I stood and looked toward the ExpoCenter to make sure no one was outside then I went back to the fire and fed it. While it burned, I chopped at the floor ear the fire with the machete. When the fire had used up all the cow chips, I fed it Corndog's shoe, then the wallet and cash, then the rum in small amounts, careful to leave some for me to drink.
    The floor boards finally caught, and the spot next to the fire where I'd been hacking with the machete was beginning to open up. I could see the ground. When the boards had burned for a few minutes, I stomped it with the heel of my boot, and a section of charred and burning wood dropped to the ground belo w. The hole was just big enough.
    I didn't waste any time. Using the machete, I pushed aside the small chunks of wood that were burning on the ground. Then I grabbed the jug, and eased down through the hole , feet first. The trailer couldn't have been more than eighteen inches off the ground. I had to get into a seated position on the ground then wriggle the rest of my body through. The wood was still hot, and I singed my shirt and hair.
    Once I was under the trailer on my back, I rolled until I was clear. It was still the middle of the night or early morning, but there was moonlight. I ran as well as my sore ankle would