Hun, you.”
“Benny, sometimes I wonder about you, you know?”
The mine office was empty except for an overturned desk, a battered filing cabinet and a tarnished spittoon that had been squashed flat and now resembled a big, green frog. Dwayne looked into the scattered desk drawers. “Nothing here, 'cept a piece of script,” he said, holding up a perforated brass coin bearing the legend “Blue Sulfur.”
He handed the token to Benny, who was perched on a corner of the desk.
“I was just a little kid first time I ever saw this ol' payroll desk,” Benny said. “Marvin had come up to get his payday. I remember the payroll clerk wore a green eye shade that looked like a duck's bill. He would hand the pay slips out that window there. Marvin said the company store had overcharged us. There wasn't but about two dollars’ worth of script in his pay slip. He cussed all the way back down the hollow.”
Dwayne grinned. “Marvin can turn the air blue, that's for sure. Haven’t seen him for a while. He feelin' okay?”
Benny shrugged. “About the same. Still suckin' on that oxygen tank and smokin' one cigarette after another. He'll blow himself sky high someday, and more'n likely take Grandma with him.”
Dwayne cocked his head. “Car's comin'. Must be Norvil and Junior with the beer.”
Benny went to the door and looked out.
“That's not Junior,” he said. “Not unless he stole a new Buick.”
Dwayne grinned. “Wouldn't put it past him.”
TWO
The Buick was black with lots of shiny chrome. It crept around the garbage bags, broken glass and beer cans before coming to a stop a few feet from where Benny and Dwayne stood waiting. A dark-tinted window slid down, revealing a pale, moon-shaped face. “Hello cousin Benny. Long time no see.”
Benny gaped. “Russell Johnson! What the hell brings you up here?”
A tight smile creased the man’s face. “Had to take care of some business down the hollow.” He looked around and said, “Jesus fucking Christ! This place looks like one of those after-the-bomb movies.”
“Yeah,” Benny said. “The bomb was dropped last September 24th. That was the day they closed down the mine and walked away.”
Russell squinted at the bathhouse, shaking his head. “It's a shame. I remember when the upper part of this hollow was crawling with people. Coming up here today, I don't think I passed a single house the last three or four of miles. Even the Jesus Church is gone. What happened?”
Dwayne stepped forward. “Burnt down. And the company tore down the last few houses five, maybe six years ago. Most of them was fallin' down, anyways.”
He moved up closer, to get a better look at the interior of the car.
“That real leather, Russell? Must'a cost a mint of money. Bet we could have bought those new windows for the church, for what you paid for those seats. The church was the only thing left standin' in the upper hollow for a while there, but some boys got drunk last winter and built a fire in it. It was gone by the time the fire truck reached it.”
Russell laughed. “That fire probably toasted some of those snakes my brother used to keep down in the church basement.''
Dwayne paused, considering, and then said, “You know, Russell, I never told you but I was at church the night your brother got bit. A lot of us saints had handled that snake and had had victory over it. It was a big rattler brought up from Florida. Franklin was puttin' it back into the box when the thing bit his thumb. The blood shot out six feet, I swear.”
Russell's pale, expressionless face reminded Benny of those figures in the wax museum at Myrtle Beach.
Dwayne's voice became reverent. “Some of us saints took Franklin home after he was bit. We prayed over him all night. You should'a seen his arm. It was swole up big as a watermelon. Franklin was groanin' something awful but he never once asked for a doctor. He never lost the faith, I can tell you that.”
“Franklin was a damned fool,” Russell said, spitting on the pavement.
“He was a true martyr,” Dwayne said, still wrapped up in his story. “You should'a been there, Russell, he never...”
“Yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time, and I still say he was a fool. Tell me, Dwayne, where is he now?”
Dwayne fell silent. Then he sputtered and said, “Why, he's in heaven, with Jesus and the angels. Ain't that right, Benny?”
Russell spat again. “I say anybody'd pick up a rattlesnake is a damned fool. Franklin’s in the cemetery underneath six feet of dirt. That's what happens when you’re dumb enough to mess with rattlesnakes.”
Dwayne stared, bug-eyed. He started to say something, but couldn’t seem to find the words. Meanwhile, Russell lit a cigarette and offered the pack to Benny. Benny took it, glancing at the thin, puckered scar on Russell's upper lip, a memento of the fight they'd had in high school.
Benny knew Russell could tell he was looking at his lip. He continued to stare at it as he shook two cigarettes from the pack and handed one to Dwayne. Then, grinning at Russell, he put the pack in his pocket.
“So, what brings you up here, Russell? You must want something awful bad, to drive this shiny new car up that bumpy road.”
Russell shrugged. “I stopped down at the store and talked to Mary. She said I'd probably find you up here. Said you'd been junkin' up here for the past few weeks.”
“Yep. We held off for a while, thinking the company might come back. We’d already got about everything further down the hollow. I bet we hauled off at least 50 old refrigerators, not to mention two truckloads of scorched bed springs. Seemed like half the trailers on Cabin Creek caught fire last November, after it became clear the mine wouldn't be reopening before winter set in.”
It was Russell's turn to grin.
“Well, cousin, it appears your used refrigerator business must be doin' pretty good. Mary says you're one of the few folks around here still paying in cash.”
He motioned toward the metal door on Benny's truck bed. “You really are cuttin' up this place, huh?”
Benny shrugged.
“Nobody seems to care,” he said, flipping his cigarette in a high arch over the car and pulling out another one. “You might not believe it, but they just walked away and left. Damnest thing I ever saw.”
Russell spat again. “How much a pound of scrap bring these days?”
Benny wasn’t about to tell Russell his business. Who knew? Russell could be working for the coal company, or spying for Ruth, even. Then, suddenly, he knew why Russell had come looking for him.
“Seen Ruth lately?” he asked, pretending to admire the Buick's fancy control panel.
Russell looked up. “Well, that's kinda why I'm here. She wanted me to talk to you. Says she wants you to come up to Columbus, to be with
