Desperate Times 2 Gun Control Page 14

  “Equals, Jimmy. We have Equals here. Yes, they get together once a week. They meet tomorrow after dinner.”

  “Good. I want to be an Equal; that’s the point, isn’t it? We’re all equal here, am I right? I just don’t think we should be here with our pants hanging down to our ankles. I know you all have the best of intentions, but we need armed guards. We have to be able to protect ourselves.”

  Julie shook her head. “Protect ourselves from what? You don’t get it. Our protection is getting our hands on as many guns as we can and melting them down into scrap. We’re done killing, Jimmy. There’s been too much of it.”

  Jimmy’s head snapped back when Julie said scrap. “What the hell do you mean, it was melted? I was told that I’d get my guns back. I had Jon’s Colt!”

  “Keep your voice down,” hissed Julie. “We tell everyone that, and they have all grown to accept it as they see how things work around here. I’m sorry about Jon’s gun. I know it meant a lot to you. You’ve got to look at the bigger picture here. Let me tell you something—I would rather die than to have to kill again. We all feel that way. If you feel differently after tomorrow night’s meeting, I want you to go back to Ken’s. I have given up violence, and I refuse to be a part of it.”

  Jimmy returned to the sofa as he turned Julie’s words over inside his spinning head. He loved Julie, maybe now more than ever. If he wanted to stay here with her, he had to give up his weapons. He looked at Julie, and she nodded her head, just an inch, but it was if she could read his mind. Jimmy knew in his heart that he couldn’t give up on Julie. He was going to have to find a compromise. He was going to have to find a handgun. He was going to have to lie. “Fair enough,” he said, nodding his head. “I’m going to be the most open-minded dude you ever met. I love you, Julie. I’ve missed you.”

  Julie nodded and smiled but said nothing.

  Jimmy would think of little else that day. He had told he loved her twice, and both times Julie had left his words at the curb.

  Chapter 15

  Jimmy ate his dinner with Julie in the back of the crowded mess hall. There was no sign of anyone he knew, and he was happy for that. Julie continued to fill in the missing pieces of the past few months. They returned to Julie’s cabin after dinner, and on their walk there, Julie pointed out Bill’s cabin. “That’s where you’ll be living,” she had said. “Sorry, but Cindy and I are already sharing a room.”

  Jimmy nodded. Bill’s cabin was dark, and only a faint trickle of wood smoke could be seen coming from the chimney. One of the front windows was broken, and it looked as if Bill had stuffed the star-shaped hole with dirty laundry.

  They visited for another hour after dinner until Julie complained of a headache. Jimmy gave her a hug and a quick kiss. “I’ll head over to Bill’s,” he said. “Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Julie smiled. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered. “Good night.”

  Jimmy found Bill inside his cabin, squatting at the cold wood stove. “Hey, man,” he said. “I hate these damn things. The wood always burns up.”

  Jimmy kicked the snow from his boots and he joined Bill at the stove. “Let me get a fire going,” he said. “This place is freezing.”

  “I’m so glad to see you, man,” Bill said, moving around the small cabin and lighting candles. “You’re going to love it here. This place is just crawling with babes.”

  Jimmy barely heard Bill as he rambled on about all of the young women in camp. He could see his own breath as he carefully fed small pieces of birch-bark into the stove. He blew softly into the embers and was rewarded with a small orange flame.

  “And there is no competition, brother. This must be what heaven is like. All I have to do is smile at these girls, and I can see it in their eyes, man. They want me. I’m not kidding. There are hardly any guys here.”

  The birch-bark began to crackle as hot flames licked up around the fat logs that Bill had foolishly loaded into the dormant stove. Jimmy began to feed the flames with more strips of the white bark.

  “You know, the chicks thought I was pretty hot back in high school,” Bill said in his most serious voice. “Oh yeah, I had this Dodge Dart, and that car was always full of girls. So I know when girls are interested in me, man. I can tell.”

  The bark burned hot, and the logs began to snap and crackle as they slowly caught fire. Jimmy could feel the stove begin to do its job. Satisfied, he left the door to the stove cracked open and stood to his feet. Bill was still talking.

  “She’s a single mom with five kids, but what do I care? She’s barely thirty. You’re going to like her. Still, I have to make sure she knows that I’m not looking for a girlfriend. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. This place is a goldmine, and I’m gonna do me some prospecting. Oh, yeah.”

  Jimmy smiled and nodded his head. He hadn’t really heard a word of what Bill had said. He was already beginning to feel trapped. He sized up the cabin and found himself staring at the faded towels that were stuffed into the broken window. The temporary repair looked as if it had been done by a drunk. Jimmy spied a wide roll of gray tape on the counter. “A man’s best friend,” he whispered to himself.

  Bill hadn’t missed a beat and was still talking.

  Jimmy shook his head. He walked into the little kitchen area as Bill rambled on. There was still plenty of tape left on the roll. He began to open cabinets as he looked for something to tape over the hole in the window. The kitchen was filthy and smelled of old food and dirty socks. Jimmy continued looking. He picked up one of the flaming candles and walked into the bedroom.

  “You can take your pick,” Bill said. “I’ve slept in both of them, and they’re both too soft for my back. I sleep out here on the couch.”

  Jimmy grimaced. The bedroom was a total disaster. There was a single bed against one wall and a queen sized against the other. The sheets were tangled and hanging off the mattresses. There was no sign of pillows or blankets. Bill had tied a rope from one end of the room to the other, and his laundry hung from it. Jimmy found what he was looking for in the closet. It was a stout cardboard box that had been broken down and stored in the back.

  “We were just walking by, being cool,” Bill said, lost in his own story. “They didn’t have the blinds closed or nothing. There was like ten of them, man. They knew we were out there, they had to know.”

  Jimmy shook his head and held up his hands. He didn’t want to hear it, and he told Bill so. “I need a knife. Will you go find me one?”

  “I was going to do that,” Bill said. “I just haven’t got around to it. Good. That was the piece I was going to use,” he said, pointing to the flat piece of cardboard. “Maybe you should let me do that.”

  Jimmy shook his head. “Knife?” he asked again.

  “So you should really hear this from me,” Bill said, opening and closing the little drawers in the kitchen. “Mars is after Julie.”

  The statement struck Jimmy like a freight train.

  “And she likes it—I can tell. That’s why I think you should dump her, man. There are so many chicks to choose from. A dude shouldn’t be tied down.”

  “What do you mean?” Jimmy asked, trying to keep his voice level. “And you’d better not be lying to me.”

  Bill found a crusty butcher knife in the sink and approached Jimmy with apprehension in his eyes. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, honest. I can just tell these things, you know?”

  Jimmy didn’t know, and he snatched the knife away from Bill and turned his back on him as he sized up the hole. “Keep going, Bill. You said she likes it.”

  “I can see it in her eyes. Mars is a handsome guy. I think so. I mean, I’m not gay or nothin’. You know what I mean, not that I’ve got anything against it. I thought Jon was really a cool guy. I miss him.”

  “Tell me about Julie!” Jimmy snapped, turning on Bill with the butcher knife clenched in his right hand.

  “That’s all there is. I could see it in her eyes. That
Mars is handsome, and if I was Julie, I’d be interested in him. The chicks here really dig him.”

  Jimmy stared at Bill for a long moment, shook his head and resumed cutting his cardboard. “You don’t want me to be with Julie, do you?”

  “I just don’t like the way she controls you,” Bill said, backing away. “You know how she is. And you can see that she doesn’t like me. I saved her life. That ought to count for something.”

  Jimmy hated to admit it, but Bill was right. Julie didn’t like him, and he had saved her life. Didn’t he deserve to be treated better? Jimmy thought so. There weren’t many of them left, and despite Bill’s many faults, you didn’t turn your back on your own people. Jimmy decided to forget about what Bill had said about Julie and Mars. Obviously, Bill had personal reasons for wanting to hurt Julie.

  Bill took advantage of the silence to continue raving about all of the beautiful women in their camp. “Twenty to one,” he said, rubbing his hands together as he paced in front of the wood stove. “Mars was definitely right about one thing,” he said.

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “The name of this place: Utopia. This is just how I imagined it should be, just without the pizza.”

  Just before turning in that night, Jimmy began to carefully probe Bill for information. The small cabin was cozy warm, and Jimmy had taken down Bill’s clothesline. He continued to ask questions as he made up his bed. Something told Jimmy that Big Al had his own agenda. He and his men seemed to be the village rebels. If there were weapons to be found, Big Al would know where they were. He walked out and stood with Bill in the dirty little kitchen.

  “Do you want a sandwich, man?” Bill asked, scratching his hairy belly with both hands. He walked over to the counter and began to hack away at a loaf of freshly baked bread.

  “No, thanks,” said Jimmy. “How do you feel about the no-gun policy? I’m really having trouble with that. What do the others think?”

  Bill cut the loaf into quarters and spread nearly half an inch of peanut-butter on one of the slices. “You sure you don’t want one?” Bill asked again. “This bread is pretty tasty, dude.”

  Jimmy gritted his teeth. He didn’t like being called dude or man. Still, he knew that he would have to pick and choose his fights. He watched Bill reach his hand up under his t-shirt to his opposite armpit, and, much like a dog, he groaned with pleasure as he scratched himself. He then used both hands to smash his sandwich down on the counter. Peanut butter oozed out from the sides, and Bill dabbed at it with his fingers, sticking them into his mouth. He tore the flattened sandwich in half and made a gesture, offering half to Jimmy.

  Jimmy shook his head. “How does everyone feel about the policy? I just can’t see everyone buying into it.”

  Bill took a huge bite of sandwich and began to chew, open-mouthed, as he returned to the sofa. “I don’t buy into it,” Bill said, pausing swallow. “But we got no choice. Can you dig it?”

  Jimmy turned his head away, but the sound of Bill’s chewing was making him sick to his stomach. Worse than that was Bill’s sudden fondness for slang. Jimmy had known him for a long time, and he’d never heard him speak this way. “I don’t understand how everyone could just give up their weapons. That doesn’t make sense. You guys have to have some stashed somewhere, right?”

  Bill swallowed and wiped the excess peanut-butter from the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Not as far as I know, man. It don’t matter; nobody is going to bother us. We’re connected.”

  Jimmy shook his head, undressed, and crawled into bed. He felt vulnerable, and he couldn’t shake that feeling. This was the first night since he’d left home that he hadn’t slept with a gun. He found that he didn’t like it.

  The following morning was windy and gray. After what seemed like an eternity, Jimmy was able to rouse Bill and get him out of bed. Bill put on yesterday’s clothes and yawned. “Big Al wants to meet this morning,” Bill said, stretching his arms. “We should head over to the shop and get some coffee.”

  The shop smelled of cutting oil and burnt steel, two smells that made Jimmy homesick for his former life. Jimmy wanted to laugh as he looked around. The dirty shop looked as if it belonged to a group of teenagers. There was a ping pong table in the middle of the room where greasy wrenches, beer cans, and what looked like a pile of men’s white underwear sat next to red and blue paddles. A pinball machine with its lights on stood against the wall, walls that were covered in pilfered street signs and wrinkled Walmart posters. A unicycle lay at Jimmy’s feet. Big Al lumbered across the shop to greet them. He was dressed in a mottled blue bathrobe, and he wore black slippers to protect his feet from the filthy cement. He looked tired, and his muttonchops looked they were spiked from sleep. “Dude, what the hell are you guys doing here?” he growled. “Is it after ten?”

  “Chill out, homey,” Bill shouted across the shop. “This is my main man, Jimmy.”

  Bill introduced Jimmy to Big Al, and Jimmy could feel himself being sized up. Big Al stuck his hand out, and Jimmy shook it. Big Al had a firm gripm and Jimmy’s hand came away feeling sticky.

  “Nice to meet ya,” Big Al said in a gravely pirate’s voice. “Billy-Boy has been talkin’ ‘bout you since the day he showed up. Ain’t that right, Wart?”

  Jimmy gave Bill a hard look and Bill visibly wilted.

  “He sure has,” screeched a strange, whistling voice from behind an open door. Jimmy had never seen Wart, and the voice conjured up images of gargoyles and garden gnomes. A toilet flushed, and a skinny man suddenly rushed out from the door, pulling his robe closed and cinching the tie. He was short and wiry and olive skinned. Jimmy guessed him to be somewhere between thirty and forty. The man named Wart had babyish skin covering a hard face. Wispy brown hair covered his head, and he wore the poorest excuse for muttonchops that Jimmy could imagine. He never took his eyes from Jimmy as he slunk their way. Jimmy decided that he either looked very good for his age or he didn’t.

  Jimmy looked from Wart to Bill and then back to Wart.

  “Jimmy, this is Wart,” said Big Al. “Wart, this guy has had more tail than a toilet seat.”

  Wart, who couldn’t have been more than five feet tall with his boots on, stuck out his right hand and smiled. “Hello, Jimmy, pleased to meet you,” he whistled.

  Jimmy looked at the hand and back to Wart’s comic book face. Wart smiled a smile that was missing two front teeth.

  “Poor bastard,” growled Big Al. “Lost his teeth, just yesterday.”

  Wart’s eyes never left Jimmy’s face, and his hand seemed planted in front of him. Jimmy wasn’t about to shake that unwashed hand. He desperately looked for a way out of the awkward situation. Then he remembered Howie Mandel. Jimmy struck a boxer’s pose and moved to fist bump the little man.

  Wart’s hand stayed open, and he now looked hurt.

  “Wart’s a good dude,” said Big Al, tilting his head back and jutting out his chin. “You got a problem with him? Go on, shake the man’s hand.”

  “Hi,” Jimmy said, and he stiffly offered his hand to Wart. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Wart took Jimmy’s limp hand and pumped it for all it was worth. He started to chuckle. Big Al suddenly slapped Jimmy on the back and began to laugh. Jimmy turned to Bill and saw that he had been in on the joke. All three men were now roaring with laughter, and Jimmy smiled nervously.

  “He’s a keeper,” rumbled Big Al. “Don’t worry. Wart wasn’t doing his business in there.”

  “Or was I?” Wart whistled cryptically. He then bent over and picked up the unicycle. Still laughing, he hiked up his bathrobe and sat down on the one-wheeler. “I can’t remember what I did in there.” He then began to ride the unicycle around the shop with all the skill of a Ringling Brother’s clown. Jimmy watched him with amazement and quickly excused himself and moved toward the bathroom. Wart pedaled towards him, and he reached out as he glided past, stroking Jimmy’s cheek with his right hand.

  “Knock it off!” shouted Jimmy.


  Like three drunken hyenas, the other men laughed at Jimmy. Wart spun around the ping pong table and was headed for another run. He smiled crazily, bobbing his head back and forth to the pumping of his scrawny legs. Jimmy hurried to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

  The bathroom looked like something out of a bad movie. The sink looked as if it belonged inside a condemned building. Hair covered toothbrushes lay scattered on the crusty vanity top. The sink was heaping with fresh ashes. Jimmy found the soap and washed his hands under the hottest water the tap would offer. He scrubbed until they had been scalded to a hot-pink color. He scrubbed his face in the same manner.

  He opened the door and returned to where Big Al and Bill still stood. Big Al had one arm propped on Bill’s shoulder and pointed a meaty finger in Bill’s face.

  “He works for you, man,” Big Al grunted, completely ignoring Jimmy. “If you have any problems with him, he goes straight to the kitchen. Make sure your homeboy knows that they start work at four in the damn morning.”