"A SOUND THAT FADES IN THE VALLEY" BY BUD CARLSON
Special thanks to Bud for submitting this short story.
-the janitor, 16/2/23
You can't stay with us. We don't have the room. Michelle would never go for it anyways. Where am I supposed to go?
I don't know son. I've got a good thing going now, I'm sorry.
I won't get in the way dad, I promise.
His father didn't say anything else as they drove along. When they reached the next town he took the exit and started driving toward the country.
Where are we going dad?
His father looked straight ahead and didn't answer. He stopped at a gravel driveway and turned onto it. As they approached an old man came out of the house followed by three dogs that ran directly for the car, barking as they jumped at the window.
You stay here.
The boy's father got out of the car and walked up to the old man on the porch. They talked for a few minutes, stopping every once in a while to look at the boy in the car as he looked at them. His father walked back toward the car and the boy rolled down the window.
You're gonna stay with your Grandpa for a while until we can get this thing figured out.
You told me that Grandpa died when you were a little boy.
Well he didn't, he's right there.
The old man waved and smiled from the chair on his front porch. He had a red, cheerful face with a big white beard with long grey hair. He wore overalls with no shoes and no undershirt.
Don't leave me here dad, I wanna stay with you.
You know I can't do that right now. Maybe we'll see in the future, but right now it isn't possible.
Tears began streaming down the boys cheeks as his father went to the back of the car and opened the trunk. He took two duffel bags out and closed the trunk and walked back to the passenger side of the car.
Come on, it's time to go now.
The boy rolled up the window and locked the door.
Don't make this any harder than it already is. Please open the door son. The boy looked straight ahead and continued crying silently.
His father opened the door and reached for the seatbelt. The boy grabbed his hands and pushed them away. He grabbed the boys hand and struggled with him to get the buckle unlatched. When he got the buckle loose he grabbed the boy and dragged him out of the car. The boy fought with him, but he knew there was nothing he could do, his father was much larger and stronger than he was. He dragged the squirming boy to the yard and kicked the door shut behind him. He bent down toward the boy.
Listen son, don't make this any harder than it has to be.
The boy punched his father in the mouth. He took a step backward and straightened up while holding a hand over his mouth. He looked at his son and at his father and got into the car and drove quickly down the gravel driveway.
The boy turned toward the house to see that his Grandfather was gone. The dogs laid in the yard sunning their bellies as a slight wind rattled the trees at the side of the house. The silence and aloneness shook the boy. A terrible feeling shot into his stomach as he stood in front of the little white house in the middle of nowhere. The dust had not yet settled on the driveway as his Grandfather came out of the front door with two rifles.
It's time to go get dinner.
He walked to the boy and handled him a rifle and continued walking into the woods as the boy followed behind. They walked for a time until they were in the thick of the wilderness until the old man stopped walking and held his hand up. He turned to the boy and held his index finger over his lips and slowly turned away from him. He raised his rifle and took aim toward an oak tree twenty yards ahead of them. He fired the rifle and a small cloud of smoke that smelled of burnt gunpowder appeared and dissipated as quickly as it had came. A squirrel fell somersaulting and careened off of one branch and landed in a pile of leaves at the base of the tree. He looked to the boy and grinned. The boy grinned back. The old man put the squirrel into his satchel and they walked slowly and quietly and deeper into the forest.
Now I know you were raised in the city, and that you ain't ever fired a weapon such as this. He held his hand out and the boy handed him the twenty-two.
You see here is the bolt and the chamber and the round and this is how you load it.
He pumped a shell into the chamber and took it out. He handed the rifle back to the boy. Now show me how to load it.
The boy pulled back the bolt and loaded a round into the chamber.
Very good, you might make it after all. Now hold it up to your shoulder just like you saw me do a minute ago. Look down the barrel and find the white dot. You see it?
The boy nodded.
Okay, whatever you wanna hit, you just put that white dot on it and pull the trigger. You see that knot in that tree over there?
Yes.
See if you can hit that.
The boy took aim at the knot in the tree, held it for a moment and fired. The shot landed square in the middle of the knot and sent pieces of the tree flying. He looked at his Grandfather and beamed with pride.
I knew you were made of me somehow. Now you need to bag a squirrel if you wanna eat tonight.
He walked further into the woods and the boy followed him. After a few minutes walking they heard a small rustling and stopped. The boy put a round in the chamber and scanned the ground as he stood still. His Grandfather stood back and watched as he found the squirrel and aimed. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The boy fired the rifle and hit the squirrel, bouncing it into the air taking some leaves with it. It landed and did not move. The boy turned around to find himself alone. His Grandfather was nowhere in sight, he began to panic.
GRANDPAAAAAA!
His voice echoed through the forest, it was a lonely sound as it faded through the valley and died. The sun was going down and the boy was afraid. He held the rifle close to his chest and looked around. He knew he had to make it back before dark or he would never find the house. He picked up the squirrel and put it in the front pocket of his hooded sweatshirt and started walking. Soon he heard the three dogs barking and felt relieved at the sound. He followed the barking until he reached the edge of the forest as the sky was almost black.
The boy walked into the house to see his Grandfather sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee in the dim orange glow of a lantern that sat on the table in front of him. He leaned the rifle in the corner by the door and took the squirrel out and laid it on the table.
You left me.
You found your way back.
Yeah, but you left me.
One of these days I'll be gone for good, then how will you find your way back?
I already did.
Right, it's better you figure it out now as opposed to later. Now let me get a look at that squirrel.
The old man examined the limp squirrel in his hand as he stroked his beard. You know how to clean one of these?
The boy stood with his hands in his pockets and shrugged.
I'll show you.
He took out his pocket knife and split the squirrel along it's mid section from the tail to the head. He pulled the hide off to expose the meat underneath. He emptied the mid section with his thumb and forefinger and flicked it to the dogs and put a skewer through it and handed it to the boy.
Just go hold it over the fire until it smells good.
The boy went to the fire and roasted his first squirrel.
A couple months had passed and the boy had adjusted to his new life. He went hunting and fishing with his Grandfather and learned how to garden, he learned a lot of things from the old man, but he knew that this arrangement was only temporary and that he would hear his father's car coming down the driveway any day now. He longed to hear that sound more than any other.
One day the boy was in the back doing chores when he heard the dogs. He ran around to the front and saw that it wasn't his father's powder blue sedan, it was the sheriff. Sheriff Tilton got out of the car and walked through the dogs and took his hat off as he got to the porch. The old man came out to greet him. They nodded and the old man listened to the sheriff and nodded while he spoke. When the sheriff finished the old man shook his head and looked toward the boy out in the yard. Sheriff Tilton put his hat on and they shook hands before he turned and walked away. As he drove off the dogs chased behind the car for a while and gave up. The old man motioned for the boy to come into the house. When he came into the house his Grandfather was sitting at the kitchen table. He sat down at the side of the table and the old man took out a bottle of whiskey. He poured a glass for himself and a much smaller glass for the boy.
It's gonna burn at first, but drink that down.
The boy took up the glass and sniffed it and recoiled, pinching his face. He sat it down. The old man took the glass and drained it and made a sharp breath before he sat it down. He looked at the boy and looked down at the table.
He's gone, son, he's gone, your daddy died last night. How did he die?
It's not important.
It's important to me.
The old man slid the whiskey toward him. This'll help.
The boy took the glass and took a big drink. He coughed and doubled over and coughed some more. He looked again at his Grandfather.
Son, I'm sorry, but your daddy was knifed in an alley last night. Some man wanted to rob him and he got what he wanted but he knifed him anyways.
The boy began to cry, the old man put his hand on his shoulder.
You know, you look just like your daddy when he was your age. I remember one time when he was little, he punched a damned window and cut a main artery in his hand, almost bled to death right there in the damned hospital. It took four doctors and me laying on top of him to hold him still while the they stitched him up. Five grown men could barely hold your daddy down, can you believe that?
The boy looked up with his wet cheeks and smiled.
He was tough I tell you.
I'm gonna find the man who did it.
And then what?
I'm gonna kill em.
And how do you aim to do that?
I'm gonna shoot him.
You ever shot a man before?
No.
Well it's something you can't take back after it's done, killing a man. It's something you won't ever forget, and killing him ain't gonna bring your daddy back.
The boy looked down at the table. The old man got up and tussled the boy’s hair and walked into his bedroom and laid down. The boy went to bed not long after.
The boy settled into life with the old man, helping out with chores, and over the span of a few years, began growing into a man. On his sixteenth birthday he was chopping firewood in the back when he heard the dogs barking at a car coming down the driveway. His mother got out of the car; she looked considerably different than she had almost four years ago. Her face looked hard, although she tried to mask it by smiling. She threw her arms out and ran toward the boy and hugged him.
Look at how big you are.
She broke the embrace and took a step back to get a look at him. The old man came out of the house and she ran toward him for yet another awkward hug. The old man sat in his chair while she took a seat on the bench. The boy stood in the yard.
Come sit by me son.
He stood there. She anxiously turned toward the old man.
I can't thank you enough for looking after my boy all this time.
The old man looked curious over his pipe at her and said nothing.
I'm sure he's been a hand full.
He’s been a big help around here. He's a damned fine boy as far as I can see it.
Yes, that's great, but I'm sure you'll want me to be taking him now, seeing as how you like living out here like this by yourself all these years.
Nonsense! It's been nice having my Grandson around. Don't worry about us, we'll be fine right here.
But I'm his mother, he should be with me. Should he? What are you implying?
I'm implying that one, you just got out of the penitentiary for what you did to him, two you didn't want him around before that, three, he's sixteen today and damned near full grown, so why the Hell would you wanna take him with you all of the sudden? And don't you think it should be his decision? If he wants to go with you he can. If he wants to stay here he can. I think you lost your right to choose for him when you took to beatin' on em.
She stammered and looked at the both of them.
What's it gonna be son? Are you staying here with him? Or are you coming home with me? He spat on the ground and looked away from her.
Get in the car son!
He looked at her and grinned.
Make me.
She became frazzled and her face lit with anger. She started toward him and he squared on her.
She halted in her tracks and horror took hold of her expression. She stepped back a few paces and looked at the old man as he sat rocking in his chair.
We'll see what the Sheriff has to say about this!
She got into her car and threw dirt and gravel as she sped off. The dogs did not give chase.
An hour later she drove down the driveway followed by Sheriff Tilton's brown cruiser. The mother got out of her car and stood close to the porch with her arms folded as she waited on the sheriff. Sheriff Tilton got out of his cruiser and walked slowly up to the porch and nodded to the grandfather.
That's my son sheriff! He belongs with me!
Okay now, let's all just calm down. You've already told me your side of the story, now I wanna hear from him. Just give us a minute to discuss things and we'll sort this whole thing.
The sheriff followed the old man into the house. Five minutes later they came out. Son, come over here.
He walked closer to the porch and stopped short of it.
Do you want to stay here or go with your mother?
I wanna stay here sheriff. Well that settles it then.
The sheriff got into his car and waited as the mother got into hers and followed her out.
The old man and his grandson sat on the porch and watched the dogs chase them out. The old man looked at his grandson to try and gauge his expression until he went into the house.
You ready to lose at chess old man?
The old man laughed and went into the house. His grandson sat at the table in front of the board holding both fists over it. The old man tapped his left. He opened his palm to reveal a white pawn.
You're the good guys.
The old man sat at the board and pondered his first move, he moved a pawn and his grandson quickly countered. He made another move and was countered again. His third move cost him a pawn, and then another one. Soon he began to lose rooks, then bishops, and finally he had lost a great deal of pieces and was cornered. Check mate. The old man toppled the king and nodded to his grandson.
Well I'm turning in, good night.
The young man sat by the lamp feeling sorry in his victory. For years he had dreamed of beating him, and now, it didn't feel the way he imagined. Seeing the look on his face as his king ran for the corner, none of it felt good. He put the pieces away and put the lamp out.
He awoke in the morning, ready to put the bad feeling away, knowing a few little jabs over the game would make it easy again, he knew the old man would counter with something clever and that everything would be the same. He got out of bed and into his clothes and into the kitchen. He ground coffee beans and put a kettle on.
Alright old man, no use in hiding.
He put the coffee into the pot and waited for the water to boil. When the whistle sounded he poured it over and put the top on.
Alright old man, I know you're up. Come out and face the music.
He sat looking at the black brown water. Little specks of coffee fell into the pot.
You coming or what? Coffee's ready!
He stared at the two mugs on the table; one blue with a red outline of Tennessee and a Georgia mug with brown mallards on the side as they both empty on the wooden table next to the steaming press pot. He walked into his grandfather's bedroom to find a mound under the blankets ; one of his feet, covered in a grey wool sock with a red toe and heel stuck out from the bottom as a few strands of his white hair laid across a red and orange flannel pillow from under the covers. Carl grabbed his foot and shook, this time the grandfather didn't raise and cuss.
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