Feud
A yellow speck flittered over the quilted farmland just south of Franklin. Inside the speck, which instead was merely a small school bus belonging to the district of Franklin Elementary, two men engaged in a rather heated conversation. “My father was a great man! Said Frank, the stout man driving the vessel through the vast thickets of produce lining the road on either side.
“Your father was dirty, thiefin’ scum,” said Jerry, sitting directly behind and across from Frank in the first passenger row.
They were headed west, into the fading glow of the sun, with nothing but the faint sound of field birds chirping and the occasional cow mooing. Frank aimed for and subsequently hit a pothole in the middle of the gravel road, which consequently sent Jerry upward into the roof of the cabin. Jerry grabbed hold of his cap and tried to rub out the pain as he landed back down into the leather bench seat. “Jesus, Frank! Watch it.”
“Don’t talk about my father that way… In fact, don’t you talk about him at all.” said Frank.
He swerved to the other side of the road to avoid a fallen tree scattered about the dirt and rocks. The old, rusty axles shook on the underside of the bus, rattling and squeaking under the sudden force of moving from side to side.
“Admit it, Frank. He was a crook.” Jerry said, adjusting his coat almost as if in defiance.
“He took care of my mother and his boys, just like any good father should. Couldn’t say as much about your dad, could I?”
“My daddy died when I was seven months old.”
“Probably for the best, then, isn’t it? He must’ve been more of a prick than you are.”
“Fuck right off, you shit.” Jerry took his cap off and hurled it toward Frank. “At least my father wasn’t a murderer!”
Frank glared out the sun-glazed windshield and down the stretch of road ahead of them. No turns or outlets for a while yet. In the rear view mirror he could see the tires coughing up clouds of thick, red dust.
Jerry leaned back in the bench seat and faced the window. Endless stalks of corn shimmered in front of his eyes like waves of an emerald sea. “I’m just sayin’, is all. Only a spineless coward would kill for money. That ain’t no way to raise a family. Not on the blood of another man’s life. That ain’t right, Frank.”
A great force came upon the back of the vehicle as it quickly decelerated. The old, grey tires of the bus mashed up bits of rock and dirt underneath. The bus stopped. Frank parked it in the middle of the road and let his foot up off the worn brake pedal. He leaped from his seat in one long, powerful stride and brought himself to meet face to face with Jerry. “Just what would you know about raising a family, huh? You’re mother left you when you were ten, and everyone else in your family didn’t want anything to do with you. Not even your brothers and sisters. Just what do you know about anything that’s worth knowing? You don’t know squat about about my father, and you know even less about being one. So I suggest you shut your goddamn mouth before I do it for you.” Frank gave a cold stare.
Jerry shrunk back into his seat, almost falling off onto the dirty, paneled floor. “I was just sayin’, is all. My honest opinion. C’mon, now What do I know. I run my mouth. I don’t know what I’m sayin’ half the time. C’mon Frank, don’t be that way. I’m just scared, is all. I talk when I’m scared… Talk a lot. Makes me feel better, y’know?”
“Yea, I know. But you best shut up about my father. This is your last warning, you hear me?”
Jerry nodded and fidgeted in his seat. Far off behind the bus a lone siren sounded.
“Oh shit, Frank. It’s that cop. He’s on to us!”
“I know, Jerry. Let’s go.” Frank stood up and set himself back in the driver seat.
Slowly Jerry brought himself up from the floor. He then moved himself close to the wall of the bus and stared intently out the window, placing his fist under his chin and gritting his teeth. For a while the bus didn’t move. Jerry glanced over to Frank and yelled, “Jesus, Frank. Are you gonna go or we gonna sit here and wait for ol’ blue to catch up?”
Frank shifted gears and put all of his weight onto the gas pedal. The rear tires coughed up enough red soil to fill the sky. And then they were off.
Further through the quilted farmland, just south of Franklin the yellow speck made its way westward into the setting sun, with the faint sound of a lone siren in tow.