We replaced the lid, and made sure the X made with the sticks was covered well before we began making our way back down the path. We’d no sooner gotten started when an unexpected noise made me grab Merritt’s arm. There’d been a distinct cracking sound, like someone stepped on a branch. It hadn’t come from the direction I would expect, and I placed a finger to my mouth. We ducked behind a cluster of black haw to scan the darkening woods. The fading light created the appearance of someone hiding behind an oak, an edge of clothing visible. I was about to jab Merritt until I saw it was only a thick vine. I waited to see if I could detect any kind of unusual movement while Merritt cupped a hand around his ear. The creek running nearby wasn’t helpful in separating noises caused by nature versus man. After another few seconds, and again, the crunch of a footstep came.
I imagined what I’d heard about all my life; revenuers had finally caught us. They would sometimes get lucky and locate a still, then lie in wait for somebody to come back just so they could arrest them. They’d surround the area, prepared to tear apart what they found, and then put the responsible party in handcuffs, or in the case of their being underage, I wasn’t sure what would happen. Daddy wasn’t really a criminal, more like a tax evader, but I’d considered more than once he might end up behind bars and Merritt and I would be stuck living with Uncle Virgil and Aunt Juanita. There were times I was certain it would take something like that for him to quit and I’d even wished for it, until this moment. What would the agents do if they caught a couple of kids? Make us talk? We heard a hoot, like somebody signaling to another person. I was set to holler and run. Merritt’s eyes were like giant black marbles. I grabbed his arm and pointed. Something slid by the trees just to our right.
“Run!” I hissed, and before we could get our feet under us good, a figure came running, bent at the waist like he had intentions of knocking us down the way a bowling ball smacks into pins. His hat was pulled low, and the dark pants and shirt made him look like a black ghost. We ducked to get out of the way, but I was grabbed, and squeezed so hard I squeaked. He let me go and I dropped to the ground with a thud, landing on my rear end. Merritt put his fists up like he was going to punch if he could get a swing in, only the man started coughing, and remained doubled over. Then he started laughing. We knew that idiotic hooting snicker. It was Uncle Virgil, stinking to high heaven, the faint odor of peaches coming off of him. He’d been into the peach brandy he favored.
He puffed and wheezed, and in between his gasping, he said, “Law, I pitched that rock behind y’all and you both ’bout lit out of here like the boogeyman was after you.”
I brushed my pants off and said, “You ain’t funny. Not one bit.”
Uncle Virgil, still laughing, said, “Well, well, if it ain’t the old sourpuss.”
Even Merritt was annoyed. “You scared the shit out of us.”
Uncle Virgil said, “That there was an ambush test. Hate to say it, but the both of you failed. Gonna have to report it.”
Still picking twigs and burs off my clothes, I said, “Ha-ha. So much for being discreet; for all that noise, we might as well send out invitations to where we are.”
Uncle Virgil said, “Well now, I think you done turned more sour since I seen you last. It ain’t possible.”
The tang of his breath overtook the cool, fresh air, and I waved my hand in front of my face. His answer was to reach into the pocket of his coat, and bring out a jar. He offered it and I pushed his hand away.
“You know I don’t touch that stuff.”
He said, “This’ll straighten you out, make you more pleasant so you can see the world right.”
“I doubt that.”
He tipped his head back and said, “I agree.”
Merritt said, “I’ll have some!”
I said, “No you ain’t neither. Easton won’t stand for it.”
Uncle Virgil took a swig and Merritt swallowed reflexively. I’d caught him and Oral sipping on a jar, the first off a run known as singlings. It’s nasty, bad stuff, not fit to drink, and they’d been halfway to being loaded. I told him I’d not say a word, long as he didn’t do it again. His head hurt so bad the next day, I think he’d learned his lesson.
Merritt pointed at the still. “It ain’t got but a day.”
Uncle Virgil said, “That’s real good. Them other two ain’t far behind. It’s gonna be one big steady stream out the pots and into pockets. Well, I reckon it ain’t nothing left to do here. Things set like they ought to be?”
Merritt nodded while I started winding my way through the trees. They followed behind me and no one talked. I speculated on whose property we were using this time. I mean, if you thought about it, everything from start to finish stunk of wrongdoing. If it weren’t for what we’d just tended to, I might could’ve enjoyed being out here where the dusky silhouettes of tall trees camouflaged human presence, where I could come close to believing I’d not been hunkered down near the stinking box. Slipping through the woods soundless, leaving no trace, I could even imagine, I wasn’t ever here.
We made our way back to the vehicles and left quickly. To my dismay, Uncle Virgil followed us to the house, and came right on in. He sat down on a kitchen chair with a thud, as if his legs give out. I caught that sharp odor again, and supposed he’d been at it all afternoon. His eyes were bloodshot, and his clothes disheveled. The knees of his coveralls were muddy, like he’d fallen down at some point, and a chicken feather was stuck to the back of his shirt. He was liable to pick an argument as he was wont to do when he’d had too much. If Daddy had been here, he’d tell him to go home and sleep it off.
I said, “Want some iced tea?”
In an overly polite, mocking tone, he said, “If’n it ain’t no trouble to you.”
Merritt sat across from him and said, “What’s Oral doing?”
“Your aunt Juanita’s got him tangled up with chores. He’s in a bit of trouble, you could say. Hell, we both stay in trouble.”
Merritt’s attention sharpened, and he leaned across the table. “Yeah? What kind a trouble?”
Uncle Virgil yawned, scratched at his belly, and said, “The kind he hates most.”
I set a glass of sweet tea in front of him.
I said, “You mean he’s been into the liquor again.”
Merritt said, “I wished I could do that.”
I smacked his shoulder and said, “No you don’t.”
He frowned at me. “Do too.”
“You know what Easton said.”
Uncle Virgil picked up the glass and drained it while Merritt leaned forward, eager to hear more, thinking he was missing out on what he viewed as fun. He waited for Uncle Virgil to elaborate.
Uncle Virgil hiccupped, then put his head down on his forearms. “You got anything for this popskull headache a mine?”
I opened a cabinet beside the sink and got out a packet of BC Powders. He sat back, then hunched over again, like he couldn’t get comfortable, and you’d think Merritt would see this as a lesson to be learned. Instead, he only looked disappointed he wasn’t getting more details about his cousin. Merritt conveniently ignored my animated gestures behind Uncle Virgil’s back