Part 8 (2/2)

Bite it brother. Bite hard. Real hard.

Then the stick cracked and broke, the turtle's head falling to the ground.

We went back to work. But for the rest of the day I tried to stay away from Luke. He scared me. I didn't like his carelessness, his sense of humor or his sacrilege.

But a few days later I found myself once again working just behind him and over to his right. We were sent out to the Rattlesnake Road, right out there where we were this morning. And again we were yo-yoing, working in an echelon formation.

It was a damp and foggy morning. About two hours after we started working we came to a patch of swamp, the ditch filled with marsh gra.s.s, the water just deep enough to reach our ankles. Rhythmically we swung our tools back and forth, our feet cold, our shoes heavy and slimy, our thoughts dim and far away.

Luke stopped in mid-stroke and quickly jabbed his tool into the water, holding the blade of his yo-yo down on the head of a rattlesnake whose long yellow and brown body rose to the surface not six feet in front of me, thras.h.i.+ng wildly. I leaped back, nearly getting hit by the yo-yo swinging behind me. But Luke just stood there. Grinning, he called out to Boss Paul- .

Pickin' it up here, Boss! Boss!

Boss Paul didn't answer, just standing with his shotgun under the crook of his arm and smiling. Luke reached down, grabbed the snake by the tail and picked it up as cool as you please, holding it a long moment as it twisted and curled. Swinging it gently back and forth, he called out to Rabbit who was coming up the road with his water bucket.

Hey, Rabbit! Catch!

Luke tossed the snake up on the shoulder, spinning it towards Rabbit who dropped his bucket, let out a screech and ran across the road towards Boss G.o.dfrey who stood there in front of the truck without moving, one hand in his pocket rattling his change, the other hand leaning on his Walking Stick.

And I will always remember Luke the way he looked that foggy morning: lazily holding a deadly serpent in his hand, its jaws agape and hissing as it twisted and knotted and struck at the dim and hazy sun. For that was an exact portrait of the man named Cool Hand Luke.

14.

THAT SAt.u.r.dAY MORNING LUKE TOOK OUT his banjo right after breakfast and began playing a tune. I lay on my bunk, listening in wonder to the way he could carry two different melodies at the same time. I could never understand how so many different sounds could come from only four strings. But there was something magical in everything Luke did. And if he had been just another ordinary convict I wouldn't have said anything. But I liked Luke. I had to warn him.

Luke? Listen. It's none of my business what you do. But I've been chain ganging a long time and I'd just like to tip you off. That was a bad thing you did the other day. Picking up the Man's cane like that. h.e.l.l. You might just as well walk up to him, grab him by the b.a.l.l.s and pull.

But Luke just smiled and closed his eyes, his fingers flying on in a tinkling blur.

Yeah, Sailor. You're right.

Why don't you take it easy a little bit. You don't have much Time to do. h.e.l.l, you'll be out of here before you know it.

Take it easy? Why, Sailor. I'm surprised at you. You know d.a.m.n well I always play it real cool.

I gave up. There was no talking to Luke. He was what he was. But there were others who could see what I saw. Even Dragline grew more and more anxious out on the Road, noticeably reluctant to work with him, growing quiet and sullen, concentrating on his work. Today in the church yard, Dragline expressed those same feelings to the Bull Gang as he was telling us his version of the story: Ah'm tellin' yuh. He had the devil in him. Sometimes ah think he wa'n't even human. Way he could play that f.u.c.kin' banjo now. Ah mean, playin' is one thing. Any old a.s.s hole can play. But he didn't play. He didn't even have to touch the strings. Just tickled 'em a little bit while he was thinkin' of somethin' else. No suh. It was the devil that did the playin'. Him and Luke must have made some kind of a deal somewhere along the line. Ah don't know what. Thar's no tellin'. But ah knows this. Luke was mad at G.o.d. Yeah, he was. He was just natcherly mad at him. Crazy, that's what. Just plain crazy. Got shot up too many times. Ah mean he wasn't really mean or ornery or nothin'. He was a sinner ah reckon, yeah. But not what you'd call-you know what ah mean. Mad at G.o.d? h.e.l.l, that's for Judases and Jonahs and Romans and guys like that there.

After the weekend we went back out on the Road again. And we were put into a s.h.i.+t Ditch again. The morning pa.s.sed as we gripped the sweaty, slippery handles of our bush axes, swearing under our breaths, fighting the horse flies and the mosquitoes, slas.h.i.+ng away at the tangled underbrush. In the afternoon a thunder storm began to approach over the horizon, pus.h.i.+ng a pocket of hot, humid air before it.

The storm drew closer, lightning flas.h.i.+ng on the horizon, thunder banging and exploding. Ugly clouds ruffled towards us, the wind suddenly picking up force and blowing its hot breath over our bodies. Luke paused and looked up at the storm, smiling at it with some secret amus.e.m.e.nt. Stabbing his bush axe into the water and mud so it stood up vertically, he called out to the nearest guard- Wipin' it off here, Boss!

Taking off his cap, he wiped his face with it, rubbing the sweat out of his eyes. Then he put it back on his head, pulling the bill down and over at a c.o.c.ky angle. Again the thunder banged and echoed within the deep hollowness of a cloud. Again Luke glanced up at the sky and smiled. Dragline was just ahead of him, finis.h.i.+ng up his sector. Luke called out, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Hey Dragline! It looks like old man G.o.d's gettin' ready to take himself a p.i.s.s!

Dragline was just getting ready to swing. Aimlessly he let the bush axe flop over to one side. Looking up at the sky, he turned his head and answered out of the corner of his mouth.

d.a.m.n, Luke! Dummy up. Are you done gone nuts? You cain't talk that a-way about the Lord.

Aw, come on, Dragline. You mean to tell me you still believe in that bearded son of a b.i.t.c.h up there?

Dragline's mouth fell open. He looked up and then down and then all around him. He took a few aimless swings with his bush axe, doing nothing but splash water and chop up pieces of felled vegetation.

Man-listen. Don't talk like that. Especially like now when it's lightnin' the way it is. You're liable to git struck down. G.o.d's liable to git real mad and strike you dead. Jes like that. Don't you know that you're bein' one of them blasphemer guys? Ain't you scared?

Luke smiled and shook his head, cut down a water oak sapling and then gripped his bush axe with both hands spread apart, the handle resting horizontally against his thighs.

Oh, my poor, baby Dragline. If there's really a G.o.d like you say then he can strike me dead right now. Right? O.K. then. Let him. Let him prove it. Right now.

Luke. Ain't you scared? Ain't you scared of dyin' and goin' to h.e.l.l?

Dyin'? Ha! It's livin' I'm scared of. Livin' this nice pretty life you say the Old Man up there can take back whenever he wants. Well, he's welcome to it. Come on G.o.d! Show your stuff, Old Timer! Make me know it! Make me know you're up there!

Grumbling, the clouds boiled into ma.s.ses of black and gray billows, thunder volleying into a crescendo of noise, three distant explosions banging one after the other followed by a brilliant flash of lightning crackling over the sky from horizon to horizon. The wind picked up force. Suddenly the air became cold as the first patter of rain began.

Dragline cringed and shrank away from Luke. Desperately he lashed out at the few remaining bushes and began wading frantically through the ditch until he reached the shoulder and clambered up to the road.

Gittin' up here, Boss Paul! That crazy Luke says he don't believe in no G.o.d. Ah ain't gonna work next to no blasphemer! Ah don't wanna git struck by no lightnin'. Ah may be a sinner aw right. Yeah, But ah believes. believes. Ah d.a.m.n sure Ah d.a.m.n sure believes! believes!

Boss Paul just stood there, his shotgun cradled under his left arm, smiling down at Luke who was slas.h.i.+ng away at the bushes in his berserk manner, cutting left and right in a fury of labor.

It began to rain. Boss G.o.dfrey signaled to the men at the head of the line to load up into the cage truck. As each man finished his strip he clambered out of the ditch, went down to where the truck was parked and got in. Boss G.o.dfrey leaned one hand on the bars beside the open door, holding his cane in the other.

Dragline walked along the edge of the road, looking back over his shoulder, his face full of fear as the lightning cracked and hammered down on the countryside. But Luke was laughing out loud, pausing in his work to turn his face up into the downpour, paying no attention to the rules or the Law, unafraid of the Walking Boss or of the guards, undaunted by their weapons or their deities.

Hey Drag? Where's that thunderbolt Drag? Where is that big, bad G.o.d of yours? That G.o.d of power and wrath and vengeance? Or is he a G.o.d of love? I forget now Dragline. Which is it, anyway?

Luke raised his bush axe high. From out of the slimy water towards the sky there rose a stiff continuity of striped pants and muscled, sunburned body, his hands tightly gripping the long handle of the bush axe which extended straight above his head to the sharp, curved blade that glinted there in the storm between heaven and earth.

Then it fell with a whack. Left and right it rose and fell again, his arms knotting and bending and flexing as Luke cut a swath through the tangled thicket that clogged the channel of mud. It thundered and the lightning cracked as the pulsing movements of Luke's arms and shoulders answered with the ultimate twitch of life.

When he finished his strip he climbed up to the road. He was the last man, the rest of us already loaded up. Smiling in his own secret way, he walked down the road to the tool truck and pa.s.sed up his bush axe to Rabbit who was s.h.i.+vering impatiently in the rain. Then he walked towards the door in the cage that yawned open, ready to swallow him down as it had already swallowed the rest of us.

Beside that gaping hole stood Boss G.o.dfrey leaning against the bars. His face was turned towards the sky, his mirrored gla.s.ses reflecting the dark gray clouds of the storm as the lightning beat down on the earth in swift, punis.h.i.+ng strokes like the terrible Walking Stick of the man with no eyes.

15.

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