Recurrence Read online

  Hearts pounding, they gathered up their things and hid behind the fuel tank. When they heard the voices clearly, they were not surprised to hear Miss VanGuud, but they were surprised to hear Mr. Gomez, a teacher from their consolidated school, especially since he was married.

  The voices stopped, and there were scuffling and scraping noises for a few minutes. Miss VanGuud’s voice resumed, but at a lower pitch.

  “I need it, now!”

  “You deserve it too,” Mr. Gomez replied in a husky voice.

  John heard things happening above them that he’d only heard of in dirty jokes before. Things he wouldn’t have believed were real.

  Sometimes on nice days, John would smuggle out his sleeping bag and stash it in a secluded spot in the woods, and that would be their love nest.

  They were both filled with lust, and Suzanne seemed to have an endless supply of condoms and ways to use them.

  He once asked her, “Where do you get all the rubbers?”

  She leered at him, “Don’t ask.”

  When the school year ended she tried to talk him out of going to Virginia but could not.

  “You never said you loved me,” she pouted at the end of their last assignation.

  “No, I didn’t, and you didn’t tell me that either.” He looked down into her eyes. “At least we didn’t lie to each other.”

  “You prick,” she spat out. She jumped up and gathered her things to leave.

  “I’m sorry,” he said; but she was gone.

  When John came back from his summer visit Suzanne was gone and Ben wouldn’t talk about her.

  All he would say was, “Forget about it. Ain’t nothing you could have done anyway.”

  Later Wayne told him that one of the girls let it slip that Suzanne had been screwing her thirty-five-year-old married uncle for three years.

  “It’s her mother’s brother. Hell, she was getting rubbers from him and her old lady both. They ran off to Chicago together”

  John was glad it was over in some ways, but not in others. During the remainder of his school days there were a few brief flirtations with girls, but none led to falling for, or having sex with any of them. It didn’t seem to him that there would be any shortage of willing sex partners, if he decided he really wanted one.

  At the start of his sophomore year in high school, he came back to Michigan to find that his grandparents had bought a big modern house in town and a new Pontiac. They had been burglarized during the move and John’s rifle, radio, record player, and a stash of money had been stolen. He hadn’t told anyone, but he’d managed to save nearly eight hundred dollars toward a car. Some of the money was from saved allowance, some was from his grandfather, Tilman, and the rest was from working on the Pelikoski and VanOrman farms putting up hay, cleaning out corn cribs, and shoveling spilled grain.

  Within a week of his return, Wayne caught him alone and said. “Hey man, I know who got your rifle.”

  “Who did it?”

  “Harold Hamm, he broke into our place too and stole a bunch of stuff. He got my mom’s jewelry and my dad’s guns too.”

  “How do you know all this?” John asked.

  “He got drunk and bragged about it to Gwen, and then got arrested for drunk driving. The cops found some stolen stuff in his car.”

  “What about his house?” John asked.

  “They searched it, but didn’t find anything.” He gave John a speculative look and then said, “I’ll find out more about it later.”

  Later he asked John to meet him behind the old schoolhouse that night. John wasn’t sure what to expect when he arrived at the school. He never had been sure about Wayne and was prepared to fight if necessary. Guessing that there might be more than one person waiting for him, he was carrying a hunting knife, a homemade slingshot, and a pocket full of small stones. He needn’t have worried though, as the others with Wayne were Ronald and Kenny.

  Wayne said, “Here’s the deal. We believe that Roger Bolsic, who owns the station where Harold works, is taking the stuff that Harold and another guy who works for him steal. He’s probably selling it in Grand Rapids. About once a week a big enclosed truck leaves that station and don’t come back until the next day. The rest of the time that truck is parked behind the garage.”

  “So, you think that they’re storing what they steal in the back of the truck?” Ronald asked.

  “Maybe they’re even using the truck to go steal the stuff,” Kenny said.

  “That would be too risky. They could lose it all that way,” Wayne responded.

  “What’s your plan?” John asked.

  “We need to watch that truck for a few nights to see if they are loading it up with stolen stuff.”

  “You mean take turns staying out there at night?” Kenny asked.

  “What are you going to do about it, hijack it?” John asked.

  Wayne looked at each of them in turn. “Everybody keeps their mouth shut about this—right?”

  They all nodded.

  Wayne continued, “Now who’s in?”

  They all raised their hands except Ronald.

  He said, “I might not be able to get out on just any night. They watch me pretty close since Donald...”

  “But you do want to be a part of it,” John encouraged him.

  Ronald was emphatic, “Hell yes.”

  “OK, we’re all in on this and we don’t tell nobody else about it. That means nobody!” Wayne stated.

  They all nodded in assent.

  “Now what are we going to do about it if we catch them?” Kenny asked.

  “We’ll see how they work it before we figure out what to do.” John said.

  “Let’s get right down to it. What we really want to do is work them over and put them out of business,” Wayne declared.

  “I’m all for that, and if we can take something back that’s even better,” John said.

  Ronald stated, “We’re not going to kill anybody!”

  “No!” Both John and Wayne declared in unison.

  Kenny nodded in agreement, saying, “And no guns.”

  Again, they all agreed.

  “I can get a car, so who will go with me to follow the truck?” Wayne asked.

  Kenny said, “I can sneak out and get away with staying out all night. My old man and old lady are usually drunk anyway.”

  Wayne nodded, “Mine too.”

  John was surprised to hear this from either of them.

  Four nights later, from the roof of a neighboring building, John and Kenny watched two men loading a variety of items from the trunks of two cars into the back of the enclosed truck. More items were carried from within the garage and loaded. The back of the truck appeared to be about half full.

  John remained and kept watch while Kenny left to call Wayne, who would get the car and pick him up.

  John saw the truck leave and shortly thereafter saw Wayne’s borrowed Mercury heading in the same direction. He went home to wait and get some sleep. It was a Friday night and the plan was for one of them to call John when the truck reached the Kent County line on the return trip. John would then call Ronald and fake being stranded, if necessary, so that Ronald could get his mother’s car.

  The phone rang just after 12:30 AM and John answered it immediately in mid-ring. As agreed, Wayne’s voice rattled off a phone number and John tapped the mouthpiece on his end with a fingernail to acknowledge. Then the line went dead. If his grandparents asked, he would tell them it was a wrong number. John never heard them stir, so after waiting the ten minutes agreed upon, he called the number.

  Kenny answered at a pay phone near Grand Rapids.

  “It went just like we thought, but they went clear to Lansing. On the way there they stopped at a truck stop called the Moon Glow. It’s on M50 just the other side of Grand Rapids. We think they’ll stop ther
e on the way back.”

  “Got it,” John said.

  Earlier, they’d agreed that if Bolsic’s truck pulled in to a truck stop, they would try to waylay it there. If they missed it, they would look for a likely place for the following week. Now it looked like they had a stopping point for the return trip.

  John called Ronald with his fake plea prepared, but the plea wasn’t needed. He sneaked out to wait for him down the road. An hour later they were passing through Grand Rapids and in a few more minutes they found the truck stop.

  More than twenty tractor-trailer rigs and a few vans were parked haphazardly in the poorly lighted lot behind the building. They found Wayne’s car in front at the far end. When they were near, he turned on his parking lights and slowly drove to the back corner of the lot. John and Ronald followed in Ronald’s mother’s Oldsmobile. They parked both cars in a dark spot behind a disconnected trailer and quietly exited.

  Kenny spoke first, “They’ve been in there about twenty minutes and it looks like Harold is making a play for one of the waitresses.”

  Wayne said, “I think we put them out of business back in Lansing. As soon as that truck left, I called the cops from a pay phone and told them I was part of a burglary ring and gave them the address. I told the cop who answered that they’d kidnapped and raped a woman in there and I didn’t want any part of it. Then I hung up.”

  “Good idea,” said Ronald.

  Bolsic’s truck had been backed in and was between another van and a tractor-trailer.

  “The truck is over there,” Kenny said softly. “I’ve already let the air out of their right front tire.”

  John responded too. “I’ve got an idea. I’ll shoot the driver in the head with a rock from my slingshot, and one of you can rush in and grab him when he goes down. The other two can hide behind that other truck and grab the passenger. They won’t know what hit them.”

  “You won’t kill him with that thing, will you?” Ronald asked.

  “No, and I won’t miss either.”

  No one had a better idea, so they got into position, and not a moment too soon. Harold and a man John didn’t recognize approached the truck without speaking. Harold headed toward the driver’s side while the other man went to the far side and the flat tire.

  When Harold turned to pull the door open, they heard the other man say, “Shit!”

  John let fly with his rock and heard the thud of it a moment after the bands released. Ronald was rushing forward as the man fell and John was right behind, stuffing the slingshot into his hip pocket as he moved. Harold had lurched forward against the van body, his knees collapsing under him. A brief scuffle and a thud could be heard from the other side of the truck.

  Ronald dropped to his knees beside Harold to see if he was still breathing, but John didn’t bother. He grabbed the man’s shirt collar and began dragging him toward the rear of the truck. Ronald jumped up and grabbed Harold’s left arm to help. When they reached the back, they encountered Wayne and Kenny doing the same with the other man. They dragged them both fifty yards beyond the parking lot into a lightly wooded area.

  “Ronald, you’re the lookout for anyone coming from the truck stop,” Wayne said in a lowered voice.

  Kenny followed in the same manner with, “Pitch a stick or rock back this way if you see anybody coming.”

  Back in the woods, John pointed to the prone truck’s passenger and asked, “What did you hit him with?”

  “A sock half full of pennies,” Wayne replied. He was grinning in the moonlight while he was rifling the man’s pockets.

  John began searching Harold’s pockets and feeling for a money belt. There was nothing but change and a pocketknife in the front. After rolling him over, he found a thick trucker’s wallet with a chrome chain fastening it to the belt. He gave a hard yank on it, tearing the thin leather loop free from the belt.

  Harold grunted and started to stir. John passed the rubber thong of the slingshot over his head; twisted it a half-turn, and then passed the crook of the handle back down over the front of his face. Before pulling it tight, he twisted it around so that the handle was at the back of his neck.

  When He tried to rise, John grabbed it from behind with his right hand and dropped his weight onto the bigger man’s back with a knee. With the heel of the other hand on the back of Harold’s head, he pulled and tightened the bands until Harold started to convulse.

  John released his grip and eased his weight from the man’s back. He leaned forward and hissed into his ear, “This is for stealing from people in Robinson County. Move away or we’ll shoot you down like a dog.”

  Harold was strong, but he was still dizzy and gasping for air as he rose to his hands and knees. He reached around and grabbed the handle of the slingshot with his right hand, trying to pull it free. He couldn’t seem to comprehend why it only tightened. He was supporting his upper body with his left hand and John stomped down on it –hard- with his heavy hunting boot. He felt and heard bones snap.

  Harold collapsed in agony, grabbing his injured left hand with his right. John reached down and twisted the slingshot free, not being careful about how it came up past his face.

  “Did you hear me?” He growled into Harold’s ear.

  With his shoulders hunched in pain, Harold vigorously nodded in the affirmative.

  “Damn, I’m glad I never really fucked with you,” Wayne muttered into John’s ear.

  John gave Harold a solid kick to the kidney area, causing him to cry out in pain. He heard a gasp from the side and looked around. Kenny was looking at him wide-eyed, and Ronald was looking back their way from up near the trucks. The other man was lying on his side with his eyes open, seemingly staring into a void. He was breathing through his mouth but otherwise not making a sound.

  “We’ve got it, let’s go,” Wayne said softly.

  He turned and kicked the other prone man in the side of the face. The man briefly thrashed around on the ground, gurgling while holding both hands to his face. Wayne continued, hissing down at him, “Shut down and move out or we’ll burn you out and you’ll get sent up.”

  This man also nodded vigorously, and the four grown boys left.

  They drove away quietly in their two cars and met again in a secluded spot not far from their homes. Wayne showed the others a money belt and wallet he’d taken from his man and John opened the trucker’s wallet he’d taken from Harold. There was a total of just over two thousand dollars, and they each took five hundred. The rest was split between the drivers for supplying the cars.

  “We’ll need to lay low for a while and not mingle,” Kenny said.

  Ronald pocketed his money and then stated, “This kind of stuff is too scary for me. Leave me out if you do anything like this again.”

  They all looked at him and John shrugged, “Well he took the money, so we know he won’t talk.”

  Kenny stuck out his hand to shake with Ronald and then they shook hands all around. All of them were back in their homes before dawn. John Luther was elated: a new person.

  Roger Bolsic’s business closed down and both he and Harold Hamm disappeared from the area within a few weeks. The other man from the truck remained anonymous and Harold hadn’t recognized his attackers.

  During the next few years they went their separate ways and lost contact, except for John and Wayne. They were of singular mind regarding adventure and the morality of criminal enterprise. Neither would participate in anything else in the area they grew up in, and they kept their contacts to a minimum.

  CHAPTER 6

  During the interim summers in Virginia John discovered that Tilman and Burl’s father, like many in the area, were involved in the bootlegging of alcohol and cigarettes. Most of the alcohol was cased beer, but there was some whiskey and wine. There were occasionally some Mason jars of moonshine too, but the moonshine didn’t stay in inventory long. It would draw the att
ention of Federal investigators quicker than would legally manufactured alcohol from registered tax-paying distilleries.

  Cigarettes and alcohol were stored and locked in an old block-walled barn at the back of the adjoining properties. They hid the moonshine somewhere else until there was a buyer and then transported it to different spots in the countryside for the transaction.

  John also learned that Tilman did quite a bit of gun trading, mostly handguns. The stepson deputy, Elmer, was one of the sources. After the first couple of summers, Tilman trusted John enough to let him try some of them out and was amazed at his proficiency.

  “Your daddy couldn’t hit a bull in the ass with a scoop shovel,” he declared.

  While on one of their treks into Dismal Swamp, John and Burl ventured into a mostly pine forest on higher ground. It bordered an area of mixed brush and swamp, interspersed with natural ridges. After an hour of exploring new territory along the edge of the forest, they heard cattle lowing. They followed the sound thinking that someone’s cattle were lost, strayed or mired in quicksand.

  It led them into a clearing where a group of middle-aged men wearing baseball caps and bib-overalls were slaughtering cattle in the brush. The men had two four-wheel-drive pickup trucks, one with a long rusty stock-trailer attached. An enclosed Tom’s van-body snack truck was sitting between them with the rear doors open.

  The truck with the trailer was on the near side and parked ahead of the others. Two beef carcasses were hanging from trees behind the trucks where men were stripping cuts of meat from them. Hides, heads, and guts were in a pile beyond them, and there were still cattle in the trailer. Two men were wrapping and boxing the meat on the tailgate of the empty pickup, and a third was loading a box into the white van.

  One of the men spotted the two boys before they could duck out of sight and raised the alarm. Burl and John ran back into the brush and weeds, certain of pursuit. Just as they reached the edge of the tall pines, a shotgun boomed behind them, and leaves and sticks rained down from a tree just to their right.