Deliverance - James Dickey [23]
was cut in the thin webbing between the left thumb and forefinger. He was a huge creature, twenty pounds heavier than Lewis, dressed in overall pants and an old-fashioned sleeveless undershirt, with a train engineer's cap on and cut-down army boots. He held his hand low in the sun, right at his waist, turning it one way and then another. He held it like he was having to keep it down by all the strength in his other hand and the rest of his body. There is no very good way to start a conversation under conditions like that; all I wanted to do was disappear, so as not to have to explain what I was doing there, but Lewis walked up to the man and asked, very civilly for him, if he could help. "No," the big man said, looking squarely at me instead of Lewis. "It ain't as bad as I thought." He pulled a gray handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped it around his hand, jerking the knot tight with his teeth. Lewis waited until the second half of the knot was tied and said, "I was wondering if you and somebody else, maybe your brother, would drive two cars down to Aintry for us for twenty dollars. Or if you wanted to get a third fellow to drive another car so you'd have a way to get back to Oree, we'd give all three of you ten dollars apiece." "Drive them down there for what?" ~We want to take a canoe trip down the Cahulawassee, and we'd like for our cars to be in Aintry when we get there day after tomorrow." "A canoe trip?" he said, looking back and forth between us. "That's right," Lewis said, narrowing his eyes a little. "A canoe trip." "You ever been down in there?" "No," Lewis said. "Have you?" Griner set his heavy-hanging face on Lewis; they battled in midair; the sound of crickets in the grass around the garage clashed like shields and armor plate. I could see the man was insulted; Lewis himself had told me that the worst thing you can do is to throw something back at these mountain people. "No," Griner answered slowly. "I ain't never been down in there much. There ain't nothing to go down there for. Fishing's no good." "How about hunting?" "Never been. But I don't believe I'd go there if I was you. What's the use of it?" "Because it's there," Lewis said, for my benefit. "It's there, all right," Griner said. "If you git in there and can't get out, you're goin' to wish it wudn't." My chest felt hollow, and my heart was ringing like iron. I wanted to back out; just go back to town and forget it. I hated what we were doing. "Listen, Lewis," I said, "to hell with it. Let's go back and play golf." He didn't pay any attention. "Well, can you do it?" he asked Griner. "How much did you say?" "Twenty dollars for two men, thirty for three." "Fifty," Griner said. "Fifty, my ass," Lewis said. Good God, I thought, why is he like this? I was scared to death, and I resented insanely Lewis' getting me into such a situation. Well, you didn't have to come, I told myself. But never again. Never. "How about forty?" Griner said. Lewis kicked the ground and turned to me. "Are you good for ten?" I took out the money and gave it to him. "Twenty now," Lewis said to Griner. "Well send the rest to you. If we're good for this, we're good for the rest. Take it or leave it." "Good enough," Griner said, but it was hard not to believe he was saying something mean. He took the bills and looked at them and put them in his pocket. He went across the yard toward the house, and we went around front, back to the car. "What do you think?" I asked Lew. "You reckon we'll ever see these cars? This is a rough son of a bitch. Why wouldn't he and his brother just go off and sell them?" "Because we know who he is," Lewis said matter-of-factly. "And he doesn't come by twenty dollars so easy as all that. Sure, the cars'll be right there when we get there. Don't worry about it." After a few minutes Griner came out of the house with his even bigger brother alongside. They were like two pro football linemen in their first season after retirement when they are beginning to soften up, working as night watchmen. We didn't try to introduce ourselves; the thought of asking them