Just Beneath My Skin (16 page)

WE SEE JAKE'S CAR COME
tearing out of the River Road and Jake's dad stops preaching, so I don't know what God is about to do next. The Pinto comes so fast and pulls out in front of us we nearly run into it, and Jake's dad says, “What the blazes?”

“It's Jake,” I say.

“I can see that,” Jake's dad says.

Jake's dad stops the car and pulls over to the side. The Pinto stops right in the middle of the road. Jake's dad gets out of the car and he is muttering something under his breath. I get out too. “What in the world is that boy up to now?” he says.

“Jake McNeil,” he hollers, when no one gets out of the Pinto. “What do you think you're doing?”

Jake's dad starts walking towards the car. And the door opens and Jake's dad and I are surprised to see it's not Jake in the Pinto at all. It's Johnny Lang.

“Rejoice and tremble, Reverend,” Johnny says. He's got a gun. Just like in my dreams.

I HEAR THE TIRES SCREECH
when Johnny pulls out on the pavement, and then I hear another set of tires screech. I listen. I hear a voice. The voice is calling my name.

“Oh dear Jesus,” I say aloud.

“
PUT THE GUN DOWN, JOHNNY
,” says Jake's dad. “We can talk this through. Jake told me you were going through something, but we don't need to do it this way. Put it down and we can talk. You hear me?”

“I killed my father,” Johnny says. “I guess I can kill McNeil's father too.”

And he lifts the gun and points it at Jake's dad. But then he sees me. He moves the barrel away from Jake's dad and points it at me.

And that's when I see Jake burst out of the woods and come running up behind Johnny.

JOHNNY HAS ONLY ONE SHELL
in the gun. If he shoots at me, then Dad and Nathan will have time to get away before he can reload. I run shouting out of the woods and Johnny startles and swings the gun around. I'm fifty feet from him and he still has the advantage. But all I can think is don't let it be Nathan. Don't let it be Nathan. Don't let it be Nathan.

Please God, let it be me.

IT'S LIKE EVERYTHING IS HAPPENING
slow. I run towards Johnny. He lifts the gun up. Nathan is standing beside the car. Dad is running towards him too. Nathan looks like he's about to make a move.

“Don't!” I call out. “Get in the car!”

But it is too late. Johnny turns around again towards Nathan.

“Don't you fucking dare,” I scream. “You fucking coward!”

More than anything in the world Johnny hates being called a coward. When he started to turn around he was smiling, but when he turns the gun back on me he isn't anymore. I'm so close now. If he hesitates one more second I'll be on him.

THE BIRDS SING IN THE
trees. I hear the river far away, roaring over the falls. The sun is just above the tops of the trees, and half the road is in shadow and half of it in light. Jake's dad is running. Jake's running. Both of them are coming up on Johnny Lang. I stand there, looking back and forth between Johnny and Jake and his dad.

Then Johnny lifts the gun up to his shoulder and points it at Jake. Jake doesn't stop running.

“No, Jake!” I cry, but it's too late.

BEING SHOT IS NOTHING LIKE
they say it is in books or movies. It's not a slow dying. It's a quick death. I hear the blast, and feel a pain in my chest, and then I fall back. On the road I manage to get my head turned around, and I feel like a slaughtered animal. I look over at Johnny. My father is wrestling the gun from Johnny's hands. Nathan stands there with the sun on his face. The last thing I see is the face of my son, staring at me, looking like he is about to cry.

The last thing I see is the face of my son.

I am your father, I want to say.

But I have no voice.

JOHNNY DROPS THE GUN, JUMPS
back in the car, and drives away. Jake's dad has the gun. He drops it and runs to Jake who is lying back in the road with blood all over him. I stand there on the side of the road. Jake's dad is kneeling down on the side of the road holding Jake's hand and talking to him.

“Stay with me, son,” he says. “Stay with me.”

But Jake isn't moving. I see him squeeze his dad's hand once, and then Jake's dad shouts his name. “Stay with me!” he says, and then, “Not again. Lord. Oh dear Christ, not again!”

I REMEMBER SUMMERS, FULL OF
fresh green grass and baseball and the smell of pine needles and cool river water and June bugs and badminton rackets and
BB
guns and the sweat of horses and fire in the fields in July and sparklers and moons and stars and indigo skies and blueberries and trout and lowing cattle and Ferris wheels and bare feet and inner tubes and swimming lessons and half-smoked cigarettes and fire hall junior dances and The Eagles and my first pint of lemon gin and corn roasts and the smell of insect repellent and hammocks and buttercups and stink bugs and swallows lined up on the telephone wires that scatter with one well-aimed rock and Popsicles and Moon Rocks and sleepovers and tents and nighthawks and the sweet smell of fresh-cut hay.

I remember so much more than I can say.

IT IS LIKE I AM
floating above them, looking down on Jake, and Jake's dad crying and shouting and trying to get Jake to move and praying to Jesus to save his son. It is real peaceful. It is like I am in myself and out of myself at the same time. I float above them and watch as Jake closes his eyes for the last time and it is like everything is hanging between them. I don't cry. I know Jake's dying, but I don't cry. Jake would be real proud of me.