Swampy Boy and Fen
From about a mile away, above sound of the truck motor, James Cornelius Radcliff heard the old fire hall bell ringing. Puzzled he switched his truck's motor off. Seconds after the engine died, the ringing stopped in a finale of crunching, and rending of metal.
“What the devils going on?” he said aloud to himself. “This place is normally as quiet as a brother at a clan meeting.”
A second crashing sound a few moments later made up his mind, he’d come back tomorrow.
“Don’t want to attract too much attention,” he mused.
Turning the truck, he started driving back up the dirt road to the town he’d left earlier that morning.
About a mile further away from the town just as he was approaching the old hanging tree that stood by the road, a wild eyed figure seemed to come from nowhere into the middle of the track, and began running towards him, its arms were waving frantically.
He braked as hard as he could, and stopped a couple of feet from the onrushing man, whom he now recognized.
With both hand resting on the hood, seemingly oblivious to the heat of the radiator the panting man looked up at the driver, and gasped.
“Dang me Swampy Boy, I thought I’d missed yuh.”
Radcliff cringed inside, it was bad enough being called the Swampy Kid but this old degenerate Fen kept calling him “Swampy Boy!”
“Where the hell have you come from anyway?” he whispered more to himself than the old man outside the truck.
He hadn’t seen him on his approach to the town or departure, and he could see for miles on the barren prairie all around.
He leant out of the open window, put on his best hale and be hearty face, and with a smile as false as a nine dollar bill spoke to the old man.
“Don’t you worry any Fen? “ “I was just going back to Samson Flats. I left some stock there by mistake. I’ll be back tomorrow."
Some of the madness left the old mans eyes on hearing this news. His shoulders relaxed but he didn’t move from the front of the truck. A cunning flicker came into his eyes, and he gasped out with exaggerated breathing.
“Yuh could have stampeded me with this truck of yours!”
The old man didn’t know why but he felt there might be a free drink in this affair somehow. Of course he was almost always hoping for a drink of something, somewhere, somehow. He slumped forwards, his face almost touching the radiator.
Radcliff thought quickly. Yes he could take advantage of this, give the old fool a bottle of good stuff, and he would be drunk for a few days, and forget all about seeing him!”
“Here you have a bottle of this Fen,” he smiled through gritted teeth as he produced a two-pint bottle of amber liquid from beneath the driving seat.
“Thet's mighty nice of yuh Swampy Boy.”
The old man gasped as he staggered around to the driver's door. He reached up with a claw like hand, and clutched the proffered bottle, before backing away from the truck. “Yup mighty nice.”
Satisfied he had everything now under control, Radcliff restarted the engine.
“See you tomorrow Fen” He waved at the old man who didn’t reply he was rolling around on the side of the track busily occupied trying to bite the cork free, Radcliff thought he saw one hand come off the bottle, and wave in his direction, but he couldn’t be sure.
Radcliff drove away shaking his head, after a hundred yards or so he looked in the rear view mirror, the old man had disappeared!
He stopped the truck got out, and looked carefully there was no sign of him.
Reaching back into the cab he got his binoculars out, these were the best U.S Government Issue. “Can read a book at two miles,” he’d been told.
He saw the tooth marked cork as big as a football, he checked the surrounding area-- nothing. Even the trees shadow held no human silhouette.
“Where’s that old bastard gone?”
Unwilling to waste any more time he climbed back into the truck and drove off.
“Swampy Boy!” he spat the words out aloud as he drove. His mind went back to when it all began.
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