In the Sound

“Shut up!” Groaned Glenn.

He shoved the side of his leg at Randall, lips pursed in frustration. Randall flinched at that, his little uneven laugh hiccupping to a quiet. I waited for him to pipe up, to say something to me. Anything. Maybe even just nudge in my direction. But he didn’t. I felt a pinch at my stomach, making me feel wheezy.

Talking to him meant that the others would know I knew him, and maybe that was grounds enough for tying me up too. I wasn’t about to watch anyone put a muzzle on Kit.

Randall Culver was just a kid, maybe a couple years younger than Maggie. Went to the same school that everyone in town did. Lived with his gospel preaching mother, and overbearing brother. Bentley. They all shared the same uneven, high pitched giggle. The same dark googly eyes, and button nose. I only ever had two friends in my whole life.

Bentley Culver was one of them.

“Now ya back, Beth’ll be just fine.” I heard Rick mumble.

Herschel’s arm was propped up on the window sill, his chin sitting over it. His head twirled in the slightest way to let Rick know he was all ears.

“We all deal with it in our own way, I’m lucky my girls are there to look after ‘er.”

Rick paused, wriggling his fingers around the wheel. His elbows were set in a steady spot, grazing against the car seat. “You’ll have to operate on ‘im in jus’ a minute, then we can put ‘im in the barn.”

Eying Randall, I fluttered over his body. Sure enough, one of his legs was twice the size of the other. Puffy and swollen, leaking with thick and clotted blood. Fleshy pieces were dangling from the swallowing hole, with tiny rags of his pants weaved inside.
Randall’s good knee was bobbing up and down impatiently.

I could remember when we were kids. I had a little crush on Bentley back then, and Randall was just a tyke who followed us around. He was pestering, frustrating, the way any kid brother would be. Bentley never had time for him, never wanted to give him time either. But back then it was normal, and getting shrieked at by your friend’s Jesus loving mother was kind of funny.

I glanced out the window, fingers entangled in Kit’s bushy coat. A thin stream of light lay just ahead, gleaming across the black sea. My lids were aching with tiredness.

Shifting a little to the car door, a soft call erupted from Kit’s throat. He lifted his head like he needed to yawn, before his chin crawled back around the side of me. Glenn’s temple tapped against his window, his thin eyes shut tightly. The car ride was getting rockier as we pulled into Herschel’s dirt driveway.

There were lights and lanterns lit up, with the Greene farm full ablaze. Daryl’s tent was further away from the rest, hiding in the darkness. My fingers tingled strangely. I was afraid to face him. He was unpredictable. Rude. Arrogant. Cocky. Nothing like Bentley was.

The Culver boys changed when we grew up.

Bentley was a shut in. Even when I was back in town, he never came to see me. Never replied to me. Never came out anymore. He was the furthest thing from Daryl at least. Randall acted out. Dad never came home without having something bad to say about him. Damn kid getting into fights. Painting up public walls. Stealing.

Something was foul at home.

I gulped, “So what’s gonna happen to him?”

Rick glanced up at the rear mirror at that. His bulbs flickering between my eyes and the road, the corner of his mouth knotting. One of his brows were raised lazily. Just like the way my Dad did when I was coming clean. He shifted his weight around the seat, one arm in his lap and the other hunched over the wheel.

He tilted his head, squinting his lids at the narrow bitumen. Rick pulled the car over to the side of the house, slowing as a few of the group came to join us. He gave me one last look before twisting the ignition off. Face strict.

“We have to eliminate the threat.”