The sun was bright but not very hot as Mike and Randy tumbled, giggling incoherent insults at each other, on the green, immaculately cropped lawn. John laughed along with the boys, pretending to separate them from their make-believe brawl until he noticed Harold looking down at them from his office window. He patted their backs, trying not to act as though he knew they were being watched.
“Come along,” he said becoming serious. “We’ve got plans to make.”
“We’re going to get Pharaoh, ain’t we?” Mike asked.
“Yes.”
“Good,” Randy whispered as he looked around with suspicion. “I don’t like it here.”
“Yeah,” Mike agreed. “Can’t get no beer.” He punched his brother in the arm. “Ain’t that right, Randy?”
John guided them around the lawn so they would be out of range of Harold’s office window.
“We must be very serious from now on.”
“Yeah,” Randy grunted.
“You bet.” Mike nodded.
“We’ll have new names,” John told them.
“Hey, this is neat.” Mike became more excited about their scheme.
“Why?” Randy hunched over and stepped away.
“It’s for your safety.”
“Yeah.” Mike punched his brother in the shoulder. “Don’t you know nothing? It’s for our safety.”
“Don’t hit me.” Randy thumped him back.
“Joshua. Caleb. Stop it!”
They jumped and stared at John.
“What did you call us?” Randy asked.
“Joshua and Caleb.” John smiled and pointed to Mike. “You shall be Joshua and you,” he said, pointing to Randy, “shall be named Caleb.”
“I like Randy.” He looked down.
“But it’s for the secret,” Mike told him.
“And I shall be Moses.” John put his hand under Randy’s chin and lifted his face. “You remember that I said I was Moses, don’t you?”
“I think.”
“Yeah.” Mike beamed, pleased that he retained the story in his limited mind. “Your mama put you in a basket and sent you down the river.”
“Good, Joshua. You’re learning.”
“Sure I am.” He smiled, showing his yellowed teeth.
“Now what?” Randy asked.
“Now what, who?” John said, testing him.
“Now what, Moses.” Resentment crept around the corners of the boy’s brown eyes.
“Good, Caleb. Now listen closely.”
No one heard their murmuring on the lawn. No one suspected anything that evening as they went through the cafeteria line with their trays. Mike and Randy laughed and exchanged pokes in their ribs, but they always acted that way.
“I ain’t gonna miss eating this crap,” Mike said as he crammed mashed potatoes, green beans and meat loaf into his mouth, all at once.
“Shut up.” Randy poked him.
“Hey! You gonna to make me choke on my food.”
“Now, Joshua and Caleb…”
They looked at him with a void in their eyes.
“Remember?” John glanced around to see if anyone were watching them. “You are now Joshua and Caleb.”
“I still like being Randy better.” The boy pouted as he wadded up a slice of bread and stuffed it whole into his mouth.
“Don’t take your pill tonight,” John whispered.
“The one that puts us to sleep?” Mike asked.
“Hey.” Randy hit him. “You’re spitting taters on me.”
“Yes.” John shook his head and stood. “The pills that put you to sleep. Don’t take them.” Again he looked around. “We’ll talk more as we watch television.”
Some comedy program with too-cute white children was on the television screen. John was able to hold Mike and Randy’s attention because they as a rule cared for afternoon cartoons.
“This is very important.” John leaned into them as he whispered. “New attendants come on duty at midnight. Do not go to sleep before that. Remember, do not go to sleep.”
“How can we without the pills?” Randy frowned. “They don’t let us have beer to get to sleep neither.”
“The attendant always goes to the rest room a few minutes after his shift begins,” John continued. “When he leaves, quickly get out of your beds and slip from the room. Meet me in the rest room down the hall across from the day room.”
“What’s the day room?” Mike wrinkled his brow.
“This is the day room.” John tried to maintain his composure. “I’ll meet you in that rest room.” John paused, deciding to test them on how well they understood his instructions. “Now which rest room will you go into when the attendant leaves after he takes his midnight shift?”
“The one across from this room.” Mike grinned.
“And Caleb? Do you know where to go?” John stared at Randy who was beginning to curl into a ball as he looked with incomprehension at the television screen.
“Why are they laughing? That ain’t funny,” he said.
John sighed, hoping Randy understood what he was supposed to do.
At bedtime the attendant gave John his pill and watched him put it in his mouth and sip water from a small cup. Once he was sure John had swallowed, he walked away, not bothering to turn around when he heard John cough. If he had, he would have seen a sleeping pill fly from John’s mouth to the floor behind his bed. But he had too many patients to watch take their medications to scrutinize one benign Cherokee who thought he was Moses. Mike and Randy hid their pills in the deep creases of their sweaty palms and pretended to put them in their mouths and swallow. The attendant just walked away, on to the next person who yawned and stretched.
“Don’t put that in your mouth,” Mike said with a hiss to his brother.
“I know.” Randy stuck his lips out in a pout. “You don’t have to tell me.”
Their dark eyes glistened with excitement as they lay awake, waiting for the changing of attendants, which meant it was midnight. Their bodies tensed when the new person looked up from his desk, scratched himself and left his post to go to the rest room.
“Just like Moses said,” Mike whispered as they crawled from their beds.
“Who?”
“You know. John. He wants us to call him Moses now.”
“That’s stupid.” He slipped into his jeans and T-shirt. “He’s John and you’re Mike and I’m Randy, and that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
“I don’t know why he wants to be called Moses,” Mike said, putting on his clothes. “But that’s what he wants, and he knows best.”
“I don’t think he knows best.”
“Well, he says he does so you’re Caleb, and I’m Joshua.”
“It’s stupid.”
“It’s for our safety.”
They entered the dark rest room and felt their way around the wall. Moonlight from the high window shone on the black and white tile floor. One of the toilets flushed.
“Moses?” Mike whispered.
“Hurry.” John came out of one of the stalls. “The attendant will notice we’re gone soon.”
“Just a minute,” Mike said, heading for a urinal. “I gotta go first.”
“Hurry.” John took the wastebasket and turned it over near the window. He reached up and turned the latch.
“Oh, we’re going out the window?” Mike zipped up.
“What did you think?” Randy hit him on the arm. “We was going to flush ourselves down the pot?”
“Hey!” Mike punched his brother back.
“Joshua, Caleb,” John said, pointing to the basket.
The boys obeyed without question and climbed up and out the window, helping John to come after them. They landed on soft, wet grass and went to their knees. John nodded toward the garden.
“Quickly, through there. Down on your bellies. Crawl through the flowers.”
“Hey, Moses,” Mike said, “it’s cold out here.”
“I don’t want to get my clothes dirty,” Randy groused. “I don’t like dirty clothes.”
“You don’t want the guards to see you, do you?” John dropped to his abdomen and began to crawl. “Follow me. Do as I do.”
At last, they reached the fence, and the boys, with little difficulty, scaled it. John labored for several minutes.
“Hey,” Randy called out, scowling, “hurry up.”
“Hey.” Mike hit his arm. “Don’t hassle Moses, okay?”
A few minutes later they ran joyously down a deserted road. The boys stopped to let John catch his breath. Mike’s eyes were wide with excitement.
“And Pharaoh,” he said, “where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“I thought you was supposed to know everything.” Randy kicked at dirt.
“I do know where to find a man who does know where Pharaoh is,” John told them, defending himself against Randy’s impudence.
“Where’s that?” Mike asked.
“Knoxville. A city many miles from here. He’ll lead us to Pharaoh.”
“Gosh, Moses,” Mike said in awe, “how did you find that out?”
“I saw the burning light in the television. Remember the program that was on when I broke the set?”
“No.” Mike looked down in embarrassment.
“It was the news.”
“I hate the news,” Randy said.
“Never mind. Just believe me.” John ordered, nettled by Randy’s lack of blind obedience. “I’ll lead you to the man called Bob Meade.” Before Randy could question who Bob was John added, “He talked to Pharaoh who, many years ago, persecuted our people in a land called Germany.”
“I don’t have no people from Germany.” Randy looked at John with suspicion.
John scrambled to think of a way to make Randy realize this was his fight as well. “I mean, our people, poor people.”
“Yeah.” Mike hit his brother. “People who get raw deals.”
“That’s right, Joshua.”
Soon headlights beamed on them. They stood, with their hands over their eyes to protect them from the glare. The car stopped, and a door opened.
“You all want a ride?” a welcoming voice called out. “I’m going into town if you’re going that way.”
“Well,” John said, “I don’t know…”
“Jump in. It’s cold out there.”
“Right. It’s cold,” Mike agreed, grinning.
“Very well.” John smiled as he motioned the boys into the back seat, and he sat up front.
The young man behind the wheel, skinny and with a reddish yellow crop of hair and beard stubble, grinned, displaying a mouth of missing teeth.
“I’m Gary Sturgis.”
“Thank you, Gary.” John shook his hand. “You’re kind.” He looked into the back seat. “These young men are friends, Mike and Randy.” He held his hands together as though he were about to choke someone. “And my name is John Ross.”
Gary put his car in gear and gunned the engine, sending them down the dim country highway.
“I’m on my way to work at the Piggly Wiggly in town. You guys are lucky I picked you up. There’s an insane asylum down the road a piece and while they’re always saying they ain’t dangerous, I have my doubts.”
Mike laughed. Gary stole a look back at him.
“What’s funny?”
“They’ve gone without sleep. Sometimes people laugh when they’re very tired.” John glared at Mike, furrowing his brow. He wished he had found followers who were not so dull-witted.
“Want a drink?” Gary pulled a can of beer from a sack on the floorboard between his legs. “I’m celebrating. My wife just told me she’s having a baby. Ain’t had a beer in a long time, so I thought it wouldn’t do no harm. They won’t notice at work.”
“Yeah. I’d like a beer.” Mike leaned forward in anticipation.
“Me, too,” Randy added, licking his lips.
“Boys, no.” John gave them a stern look, and they fell back in their seats. Again he turned to hold his hands as though he were about to strangle someone. Mike and Randy blinked in blankness.
“Well, they’ve got some real crazies there. Why those two guys who killed that old lady—it was in the papers—they’re in there.”
“They don’t know for sure how that old lady died,” Randy grumbled.
“What?” Gary stole another glance back.
“Nothing.” John smiled. “So you’re about to become a father. You must be very proud.”
Glaring at Mike and Randy, he formed his hands in the strangle hold a third time. At last they nodded. Mike scooted forward and placed his beefy hands close to Gary’s neck.
“Yeah, I tell you, for a while life looked like one hassle after another, but things are really looking up.”
Mike reached around Gary’s skinny neck with his fingers.
“Hey!”
Randy brought his hands over the top of Gary’s head, hooking two fingers in his nostrils and pulling back, giving Mike a better hold as he crushed Gary’s Adam’s apple. His arms and legs flailed about the front seat, as John lunged forward to grab the wheel. He slammed his foot on the brake. Gary’s grunts and gurgles subsided, and at last his arms and legs went limp. His eyes began to glaze. Mike reached down between his legs for the sack of beer.
“Yeah,” Randy said. “Get me some of that.”
After Mike grabbed the bag and plopped back, John began tugging on Gary’s body and said with a grunt, “Let’s dump him out on the road.”
Mike popped open a beer and looked at Gary’s head as John pulled the body from the car.
“Hey, that’s kinda funny, the way the spit’s coming out of his mouth.”
“He shouldn’t have said those things about us killing the wider.” Randy slurped a beer. “He was bad.”
After John hid Gary’s body in dense bushes and returned to the driver’s side of the car, Mike leaned forward.
“Hey, was he Pharaoh?”
“No, he was just someone standing in our way.” John thumbed through Gary’s wallet which he had taken from his body. He looked at a picture of a straggly brown-haired girl with buck teeth and at an Alcoholics Anonymous chip and then threw them away. John pulled out a few bills and counted them. “And he didn’t have much money, either.”
As the sun began to creep over the Appalachian foothills, John drove into a state forest camping ground.
“Moses, I’m cold,” Mike said.
“Me too,” Randy added, shivering.”
“We might find something of value here.” John slowed the car as he peered through the campsites.
“I hope so,” Mike muttered, finishing his third beer and reaching for the last in the six-pack.
“That’s mine.” Randy hit his hand.
“Joshua, Caleb, don’t fight.” John cut the engine and got out of the car. “Follow me.”
The boys tailed him down a path to a remote campsite. Along the way, John picked up a sturdy fallen branch. They came upon a small tent. John unzipped it to spy two sleeping bags with soft breathing coming from them. Randy grabbed the branch from John’s hand.
“I know what to do with that.” He began bashing the heads in the bags.
“No. Stop,” John whispered with urgency.
“Hey.” Mike took the branch from his brother. “That looks like fun.” He struck several blows to the sheathed bodies.
John’s eyes widened as he listened to moans from the bags, gasping in desperation. He sighed at the silence when the people died.
“I didn’t want you to kill them.”
“Why not?” Randy furrowed his brow. “We killed the guy in the car.”
“Yeah,” Mike added, beginning to whine, “I thought that was what we was going to do, kill a lot of people to get to Pharaoh.”
“We killed the man in the car because he could have identified us to police.” John shook his head. “These people were asleep. They would have never seen us.”
“Then why did you pick up that stick?” Randy’s eyes went to the ground.
“To defend ourselves. If they woke up.”
“Well,” Mike said, laughing, “we defended ourselves pretty good.”
“I don’t know why you have to get mad at us all the time.” Randy’s lips stuck out in a pout.
“Never mind. It’s too late now.” John looked around. “Search the camp. Food. Weapons. Anything.”
“Coats,” Randy added. “I’m cold.”
“Yeah!” Mike brightened. “Maybe they had some beer.”
They scavenged around and found some granola bars which they devoured, and then picked up a large, gleaming hunting knife. John came from the tent with two blood-splattered coats and a wallet. The boys lunged for the coats.
“Hey, I want this one,” Mike said, grabbing the larger of the two and putting it on. He tossed the smaller one to Randy. “This’ll fit you, skinny.”
“Don’t call me skinny,” he said, hitting his brother and then putting on the coat.
“Want some candy?” Mike held out a granola bar to John.
“Thank you.” He took it and nibbled as he looked through the wallet. In it were pictures, including one of a frail blonde-haired woman in her late thirties. She looked worn-down, like his mother. Another was a double-chinned, black-haired man, also in his late thirties. He reminded John of men on the construction site in Knoxville who harassed him because he was Cherokee. John was glad the boys killed him. The last picture was of a husky-sized boy about twelve. He was like the one who hit him in the head with the stone tomahawk. John was glad Mike and Randy killed him, too. He threw the pictures down as he searched for bills. When he found several twenties he smiled.
“Now this man was of value to us.”