The Adventures of Jack and Billy Joe (2 page)

They edged forward on their hands and knees to peer out of the undergrowth. They lay very still.

There were two men wearing bib overalls with no shirt. One was barefooted and the other wore old army boots. They both wore straw hats with wide brims.

The older and fatter one took a pull on a moonshine jar and said, “This is as good of a run as we have ever made. We gonna make a ton of money on this one.”

“I’m gonna buy me a new Chevolay. They making them again now,” the younger and slimmer one said. “They look just like the 1941 Chevolay but they ain’t got no chrome a’tall. They put hard rubber wherever chrome was supposed to be.”

“Nah, I hear they got a waitin’ list to get a Chevolay or a Ford. I’m gonna get me a good used forty-one. They still got the chrome on them,” the fat man said as he turned to walk away.

Suddenly, Billy Joe felt something run up his leg inside his pants. “Snake!” he yelled, jumping up and screaming like a banshee on a dark night.

Jack felt his pulse race as he jumped up, grabbed Billy Joe and they took off running for the boat.

The two moonshiners looked stunned at first. They began to run in circles before one motioned toward their rickety old truck and they jumped in.

Jack and Billy Joe made it in a hurry to their boat. Billy Joe dropped the “snake” that turned out to be a lizard.

Not wasting a single moment, the boys pushed the boat off the sandbar and jumped in. Each boy grabbed a paddle and they started to paddle as fast as possible to get by the opening in the vegetation where the moonshiner’s camp was. They almost made it by but the little boat caught on something. They paddled harder but to no avail.

“What’s holding us?” Jack yelled.

“It’s something up here,” Billy Joe said, reaching into the water to try to feel the obstruction.

His hand hit a heavy cord that was taut. “It’s a setline or a trotline,” Billy Joe said.

“Cut it,” Jack yelled. “We gotta get out of here.”

Billy Joe reached for his hunting knife on his belt. He unsnapped it with his right hand and brought it around while his left hand held onto the heavy cord. He found the taut cord underwater with his knife blade. One slash and they broke free.

Just as the boat lurched forward, the two moonshiners ran up to the creek bank with rifles in hand.

“Y’all come back heah,” the big one yelled, “or I’m gonna shoot.”

Jack and Billy Joe had no choice. They were in a fast-moving stretch of the creek and they couldn’t have paddled back if they wanted to.

“Get down,” Jack yelled at Billy Joe.

They both lay down in the bottom of the high-sided boat, trying to get as thin as tissue paper.

A shot rang out. “Come back heah, I said,” the booming voice shouted.

The first shot hit the boat between the boys and high up on the side where it did no harm.

They made it around a bend in the creek, paddling as fast as they could, knowing their lives depended on it.

Through the leaves of the trees they watched as the moonshiners tried to run along the bank of the creek to catch the boat but the underbrush was too thick. They gave up and went back to their truck to figure out what to do.

Jack and Billy Joe let out the breath they’d been holding when they heard the moonshiners’ shouts of frustration as the undergrowth stopped them. They knew that they had gotten away for now.

“Is there any place that they can catch us if they take that old truck and drive down the creek further?” Billy Joe asked.

“You know these woods as well as I do. You tell me.” Jack’s voice cracked as he realized they still weren’t out of danger.

“Well, I was thinking about that old log bridge that somebody built over the creek about six or seven miles this side of Old Augusta Road.”

“Nah, that old bridge has been rotted out for years,” Jack said.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t thinking about the bridge, just the road leading up to it. It will be pretty grown up but it’s still there, I guess,” Billy Joe reckoned.

The boys exchanged glances as they heard the old pickup truck start up and drive away fast.

“That’s exactly what they’re trying to do, get to the old bridge before we do.” Panic swelled in Jack’s chest.

“Let’s paddle,” Billy Joe said, digging his paddle into the water.

Both boys paddled until they thought their arms would fall off. They both just knew that they were losing the race to the bridge and were prepared to jump out and swim if shots rang out when they got within sight of it.

“Here comes the bridge,” Billy Joe wheezed through lungs about to burst from the exertion.

“Any sight of them?” Jack said from equally winded lungs.

“Not yet, keep digging,” Billy Joe said.

Both boys heard the roar of the pickup truck coming from some distance down the old road.

“I think it’s quite a distance away,” Jack said. “I think we can make it before they get to the bridge.”

“Have your gun ready just in case,” Billy Joe said.

“You mean you would shoot them?” Jack asked, rather surprised. He hadn’t even considered shooting back. As a matter of fact, he had forgotten they had the guns.

As they neared the old bridge, they could hear the roar of the pickup, but because of the high bank on that side of the creek, they couldn’t see where it was.

From the time they had heard the truck, the boys had forgotten how tired their arms and shoulders were. They were digging in like the Yale racing team.

They went by the bridge area in a hurry but just as they got past it, they heard a booming voice. “Hey, y’all come back heah.”

They exchanged a quick glance then paddled faster.

Again, shots rang out, this time whizzing over the boys’ heads. They crawled lower in the boat.

The creek took a bend to the left in about fifty more feet. “Maybe the current will take us around the bend before they shoot us full of holes,” Jack said.

They heard the sound of the rifle. Crack—pause—crack—pause—crack—pause. Jack realized that only one of the moonshiners had a gun, and because the shots weren’t coming in more of a staccato, the one gun they had was a lever action. He had had to jack another shell into the chamber before he could fire again. That’s why the pauses.

“Point your rifle in their general direction and fire without exposing yourself,” Jack said.

“Why, we can’t hit ’em?” Billy Joe asked.

“Just do it!” Jack demanded.

Both boys held their guns up over the sides of the boat and fired in the general direction of the moonshiners. They had to manually reload after each shot but the frequency of shots fired at them decreased.

They rounded the bend and were safe again—at least for a while.

“We’ll be okay when we get to Old Augusta Road, won’t we?” Billy Joe asked.

“Not really,” Jack said. “We’ve been goin’ a lot faster than we meant to so my mom won’t be there. If we slow down and get there after dark, I don’t think my mom will scare those two away, do you?”

“What are we gonna do then?” Billy Joe whined.

“Assumin’ the moonshiners will try to beat us to Old Augusta Road bridge, I think the best thing we can do is get there as soon as possible—unless you want to try to paddle back upstream to the US11 bridge.”

“What good will it do to get to the Old Augusta Road bridge before them?” Billy Joe asked.

“First, we don’t have to go all the way to the bridge. We can stop about a quarter to a half mile from the bridge and pull the boat ashore. Then we’ll follow the game and hunter paths out to the road. If we get there before they do, we can set up some surprises for them.”

“How?” Billy Joe asked. “Their one gun is more than equal to our two pop rifles.”

“We can add surprise to that and don’t forget, I have the four-ten shotgun on my rifle,” Jack said with more confidence than he felt.

That positive tone seemed to pick up Billy Joe’s spirit. They were the good guys and the moonshiners were the bad guys and everybody who watches movies knows how that turns out. The good guys always win.

The boys resumed paddling, figuring they had about seven or eight miles to go to the bridge. They didn’t have to paddle as if someone was shooting at them anymore but they did need to keep up a steady pace. They rested one at a time and kept up a good speed.

The woods were different as they got closer to Old Augusta Road in the larger stands of trees. The undergrowth along the creek bank thinned out as the tall trees filtered out the sunlight, denying it to the smaller growth.

“We’re just about where we want to be,” Jack said softly, as if he could be heard by the moonshiners. “Let’s pull into this place on the left. We can pull the boat up under that clay bank and tie it to that tree limb. Take your gun and your shells only. We won’t need the other gear for a while. If you’re hungry, get something to eat now. We won’t be back for a while.”

Jack had assumed the command role and Billy Joe followed Jack’s instructions.

“Let’s go,” Jack said, moving off on a hunter’s trail leading toward the bridge.

After about fifteen minutes, Jack held up his hand to stop. He listened intently for the sound of the pickup or voices. Billy Joe was quiet for a change. No voices or sounds of the pickup were heard. They were ahead of the moonshiners.

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” Jack said. “You get in the ditch right over there.” He pointed to a deep place just south of the bridge.

“Where are you gonna be?” Billy Joe asked.

“I’ll be just a few feet from you,” Jack reassured him. “You take out the front tire on this side and I’ll take out the back tire on this side.”

“What do we do then?” Billy Joe asked. “You know they’ll jump out and get us—shoot us probably.”

“Nah. They won’t expect us to be ready for them,” Jack said. “They’ll hesitate for a few seconds, then they’ll get out to look at their tires.”

“Then they’ll shoot us,” Billy Joe said with more panic in his voice.

“Calm down,” Jack told him. “They won’t have time to shoot us. After you take your shot, you immediately jump up and run back into the woods. The minute you’re out of their sight, turn left, south, and go at least a quarter of a mile before you stop. I’ll be somewhere close to you then. We’ll go back out to the road, hide in the ditch and stop the first car or truck that comes by.”

“And where will the moonshiners be all this time?” Billy Joe wanted to know.

“They’ll still be searching the woods around the creek for us,” Jack explained. “They won’t realize that we’ve doubled back to the road.”

“What if I don’t hit the tire?” Billy Joe asked.

“One of us will hit one of the tires. You shoot the front one and I’ll shoot the back one so we will hafta get one of them,” Jack assured him. “If we don’t, run like the devil anyway. We can still make it.”

Billy Joe started to say something, but then clamped his mouth shut and just nodded.

They reached the bridge and walked across to the south side and a few yards further.

“Over here.” Jack pointed to the ditch on the side of the road where rushing water had washed out a niche and the weeds had grown over its edge.

Jack positioned Billy Joe in the ditch and made sure he couldn’t be seen from the road but still had a good, clear view of where the truck tires would be. He then positioned himself to see the same. They were not ten feet apart.

Jack talked to Billy Joe constantly while they were waiting for the truck to make sure he didn’t panic and run.

Soon, they heard the drone of a vehicle of some kind. Jack couldn’t say for sure if it was the old pickup but it did sound like it to him.

As the truck came into sight, Jack said, “This is it. Stay calm now and don’t forget to aim a little in front of where you wanna hit.”

The pickup slowed as it neared the bridge. The two moonshiners were looking in the woods for the boys and completely overlooked the ditch along the side of the road.

As the truck came close, both boys raised their heads enough to see the tires.

At the exact same moment, both boys fired and both tires went immediately flat.

Jack looked over at Billy Joe, whose mouth was hanging open in shock—he’d hit his mark.

Then the boys jumped up and ran into the woods as was planned.

The moonshiners got out of their truck and checked their tires. The fat one threw his hat on the ground in disgust.

“What do we do now?” the skinny one asked.

“We go into the woods and get ’em,” the fat one said. “We can catch two boys real easy. Besides, they got single shots and they didn’t have time to reload. We got a gun and they don’t.”

“Where in the woods?” slim asked.

“They’ll stick to the creek,” fatso answered. “They would be afraid not to. These are city young’uns.”

Both moonshiners moved off into the woods.

Jack and Billy Joe were now about a quarter of a mile south of the bridge.

Jack stopped and called out just above a whisper, “Billy Joe?”

To his surprise, Billy Joe answered in the same tone from about ten feet away. “Yeah, what?”

“Let’s go out to the road and find us a nest. There should be a car or a truck along soon.”

“I don’t know, there’s not more than ten cars or trucks by here in a day. I’m not sure one will be by before the moonshiners figure out what happened to them,” Billy Joe said.

“They’ll be in there ’til dark.”

“Listen,” Billy Joe said. “There’s a car coming.”

“I don’t hear it,” Jack said, straining to hear.

Then they both heard it. It was coming fast and it was a pickup truck.

“Be ready now,” Jack said excitedly. “We need to wave them down.”

When the truck got within about fifty yards, both boys jumped out on the road and started waving with both arms.

The truck immediately slowed, letting its own dust cloud catch up with it. It pulled up beside the boys and the man driving stuck his head out of the window and said, “What’s happenin’, boys?”

Jack told him about their hair-raising adventure in the swamp and explained how they had fooled the moonshiners into chasing them into the woods but had backtracked to the road.

“Get on the running boards, boys, and hang on,” the man said.