The boy felt a silent black clunk
fall through his flesh. The Sailor put a hand to the boy's eyes and pulled out
a pink scrotal egg with one closed, pulsing eye. Black fur boiled inside
translucent flesh of the egg. William
S. Burroughs..The Naked Lunch
"Chris stayed in Carbondale through the weekend and the first part of the week. While Phyllis and Diekrich organized the many duties that they neglected during the last weeks of the summer quarter, Chris took long walks alone around the campus lake, spent time in Thompson's woods and read in the peace of the library. Many of the students were gone for summer break, and the only ones left either lived in Carbondale or worked at the University. By Thursday morning it was time to leave and Chris, Phyllis and Diek went to the Cartwheel cafe for breakfast.
The Cartwheel, normally a busy place stood deserted this mid morning, the waitresses busily cleaned up the breakfast rush and prepared for the noon crowd. They sat in a worn red plastic covered booth at the back and talked quietly, about school, old times and the future. The bacon and eggs arrived, Chris looked at his plate and saw a heap of white granular stuff on the side of the plate with a pad of melted butter on top of the heap. The eggs and bacon looked OK but he could not understand what the stuff was, "My God, What's this?" he said looking at the mess and at the same time noticing that everybody had it on their plates.
"Why those are grits, honey," the middle age waitress told him in the strange mixture of hillbilly and southern accent, as she poured more coffee to the waiting cups, "we always serve grits with our breakfasts, You can't have breakfast without grits." She smiled and laughed and went on her way.
Phyllis interrupted," it's ground hominy. Diek and I thought the same when we first saw'em. It's a Southern tradition. You're in the South ,Honey child," she giggled and tried to express her best Southern Accent.
"It's not bad once you get used to the taste," Diek said as he took a bite, "kinda bland, but if you like corn, you'll like grits."
Chris took a bite and grimaced slightly as he tried to eat it, "what do you mean, not bad, it tastes like gooey paste with a little salt added to it. Ugh, 'not for me." He pushed it aside. Diek and Phyllis laughed. The quiet breakfast continued with small talk and quiet laughter. All were melancholy since Chris was leaving, no one wanted the brief reunion with the best of friends to end.
After the third cup of coffee, Chris took out a wrinkled map of Illinois and look again at his plan for his trip east. He didn't know exactly where he was going, except but that it was east .His thoughts were to stay away from the troubled South with all it civil rights violence, not to mention the question of safety. He heard reports that they don't like outside agitators which although he was not one, probably would be considered one since he was a northerner. Carefully, he planned to go East to Marion Illinois, and then North on State 37 to Effingham and then East on U.S.40 of which parts blended into interstate 70. Once he reached the east coast, he fancied going North to New England. He wanted to go a far as he could, and New England sounded quaint, a nice place to visit.
Diek insisted on paying the bill, and with Phyllis drove him to Carterville and let him off.
They didn't talk much, all had that empty lonely feeling one gets when good friends depart. Phyllis wanted to say so much, but feared she would end up crying, so she too kept quiet. Chris thanked them and looked forlorned as they drove away. With his pack on the ground he watched silently as Diek turned the convertible around. He knew he would miss them more than he thought. Second thoughts of doubt captured his mind. Just as Diek pulled away, Phyllis turned around, paused for a moment, then frantically turned to Diek, yelled at him to stop. She jumped out of the car and ran to Chris and gave him a big hug and kiss. A tear came to her eye but she didn't care, and when Chris saw it, he too tried to fight back his tears. They hugged again, both too distraught to say much except to mumble. "Oh Chris, I'm going to miss you. Do come back?" Phyllis pleaded, "promise me."
"OK, I promise," Chris said as he kissed her on the cheek, then turned to pick up his bag.
"Bye now," Phyllis said as she backed up to get into the car.
Diek yelled to him as they left in a southern joking accent," you'all come back now, hear?"
Diek pulled away, and as he left, honked and waved his hand. Phyllis did the same. Chris' empty feeling overwhelmed him now, as he put his pack on his back, started walking and hitchhiking, not really concerned if he got a ride, but wanting to preserve the good times he had the past week. Diek and Phyllis were his best friends. He always wondered if after the year of separation from his friends, if their friendship would change, often they do. One would think that the friendships would drift apart. But, although Diek and Phyllis have changed and grown, they were still friends, perhaps even better friends. Separation only strengthened their friendship and in all likelihood they would be friends for life. He had heard of lifelong friendships, and now he knows that it's true , it's possible and something worthwhile and to cherish.
Within a minute of being dropped off a beat up fifty four Chevy, distinctive by its orange styroform 76 ball on the tip of the radio antenna, screeched to a halt, a few feet ahead of him Chris. Oh my God thought Chris a ride so soon? Chris jogged to the car, and when he reached to open the door, suddenly the driver stepped on the gas and sped away, There were two people in the car, probably students, since the car was pasted with SIU stickers. All Chris could hear was their cackling laugh as the gravel from the spinning tires spate up into his face. Within seconds the car screeched down the highway and Chris stood dumbfounded on the side of the road. At first he didn't know what was happening, but it didn't take long to realize that the classic hitchhikers trick once again was successful.
"Dumb shit," He muttered to himself as he spate out the dust and gave them finger. "Mother fucker," he yelled.
What shits they are Chris thought to himself, a shitty way to have fun, true assholes.
Chris will remember that car. It was his first of what would be many bad experiences a vulnerable hitcher has, but today he learned another lesson and from now on, he would always prepare himself for that to happen. He vowed he would not get tricked again. And just as he cursed, another car pulled over to pick him up. It too was an old Chevy, l952 and Chris thought out loud, "oh no, not again, is this the national pastime in Southern Illinois. ?"
This time he was cautious but to his surprise, it was not a trick. He got in and courteously introduced himself. The driver, a man who called himself Jake, a farmer, wearing overalls and a plaid work shirt, was middle aged and overweight. The side of the car seemed to tilt to his side. Chris didn't know if it was his weight, or just the suspension, but the car definitely tilted. Not only that, the tail pipe and muffler had a hole in it and the car roared and popped as it chugged down the road. Although he wondered if he would get stranded in a car that didn't have many more miles on her left, he felt stuck. But ,a ride's a ride and a hitchhiker shouldn't be choosy. When he gets a free ride, God would watch over him, he thought.
The farmer was returning to his farm, north of Mt. Vernon. Chris looked on his map and found it was a short ride but still on the right track. "That's great," he told him," 'headed East," Chris answered when asked where he was headed.
The man was a jovial sort and all he did was talk, talk, and more talk. Chris found it difficult to get a word in edgewise, but found that information he had to offer about Southern Illinois interesting. He would talk and point at everything they passed along the road, He knew everything about Southern Illinois." Why yes Sir, the James gang hid out here when they were running from the law." Chris found out he was referring to Jesse James. And with that introduction he preceded to rattle off all the crooks and thugs that used to hang up out in Southern Illinois from the James gang, to the most recent, the Shelton brothers, in the thirties. Chris never heard of the Shelton brothers, but apparently, they were quite notorious around here, so pretended that he knew them, since he sought positive feedback.
The conversation lulled but when they passed a strip mine, he and again took off in his repetitive staccato style which made it difficult for Chris to ask questions. Almost immediately he gave a long tirade about the history of mining in Southern Illinois." Yes siree, When the mines wasn't workin, it's bad times down here. People starving and stuff like that." He continued and explained to Chris that strip mining used super large steam shovels to scrap the coal right out of the earth. The coal was good quality, and mining profitable."Why boy," he bragged, "Peabody Coal had the biggest shovel in the world, a whole house could fit in the scoop."
Chris thought by now that he was pulling his leg and this fella told the tallest lies in Southern Illinois, but he kept feeding his ego, by asking questions. He learned the Peabody Coal Company was the biggest miner in the area and that they had no concern for the way they left the earth after they ravaged her for profits. In some areas along the highway miles and miles of heaped up , torn up earth littered the barren landscape, which looked like the surface of moon .
Talk and talk is all he did while he drove Chris on his way. They passed Marion, Illinois and now headed north on State 37. As they were passed Herrin, a dark story emerged about Southern Illinois. a story of violence, a story of sorrow, and greed and a story that still today shamed Southern Illinois. Jake revealed his story, but this time he lacked the excitement, but delivered it with longing sorrow. They passed another strip mine and he paused, thought about what he was going to say and whether he should reveal this tragic story to a stranger, but Chris' intense interest in Southern Illinois prompted Jake on.
"That's it....",he paused, Chris looked with interest and strained to hear his quiet thoughts competing with the rattle of the car and mumbling muffler."... The Herrin massacre."
"The what?" Chris now leaned over and rolled up the window to hear better. He had the feeling that he struck a certain confidence in Jake, and he was about to reveal something personal, something, that he knew evoked sorrow from this once jolly fat man.
"Yes, that's it, the site of the Herrin Massacre.". He paused and took a chew of Red Man tobacco and pluck it in his mouth, looked over at the strip mine, and unconsciously slowed down. "'happened around l905, when the miners and owners were in a bitter labor war over the right to strike. The miners got starvation wages, and what money they did make, the owner took at the company store, marking up the prices at least twenty per cent, so they struck," Jake paused and spit a wad of tobacco juice out the window, "yeah...That was a dark day. It was Winter, cold as shit, snow on the ground. Had no heat but they felt they had to strike. They gathered what resources they had and picketed the company at the main gate."
Chris lit a cigarette and smoked is slowly, smoking one after another, careful to hear every word.
"And then old man Peabody called in the police, the dogs and thugs, fired shots over their heads and the ones that didn't run, he sent the dogs, and thugs with two bye fours after 'em. Yep, they ran like niggers caught in a whore house raid."
"What happened then?" Chris asked.
"Well that night, late at night they all slowly sneaked back to their company houses only to find that their families were kicked out...It was quite a site, I hear, women, some pregnant, kids, babies, old men and women, huddled outside the gate, in 5 degree weather. So, the men folk, gathered them together, vowed to continue the strike, and made shelter off in the woods, down by the creek. That night they argued back and forth. The women folk wanted them to go back to work because the youngens were cold. By now even some of the miners' began to weaken, and wanted to strike the best deal they could with old man Peabody, even if it meant less pay. The miners were split but finally at a group meeting they decided to continue the strike." Jake spat out some more tobacco juice, turned to Chris, "you know, You'wd think things couldn't get worse...? but that night at five in the morning a slow moving train arrived at the mine. One of the miners saw it and rushed to over to get a closer look. You know whatta saw?" Jake turned to Chris who nodded no, but he strongly suspected.
"When they opened them boxcars, men and their families, got out, carrying their meager belongings, takin' a foreign language. It was them strike breakers and by now the miners was steamin mad. 'returned to the camp and had a big meeting, and the cry for revenge was heavy, finally they decided to stop the strike breakers by what ever means possible. They rounded up what weapons they had, nothing more than a few old guns, rusty from disuse, some had shotguns, and others only pitch forks and clubs. They hid in the woods that early morning, waiting for the morning whistle. When they saw the men , they charged, yelling and screaming, firing shotguns, rifles and guns . Once the company police regained their composure,a pitched battle erupted. The strike breakers scattered for the woods with the miners tracking them down and killing and leaving'em where they lie. Some made it to the river, some farther, but most didn't get away. Yes siree, it was a bad day around here."
Jake finished his history with a last touching comment," the strike breakers wasn't the bad ones. It's the company that's to blame. They was worse off then the miners, poor homeless immigrants from Lativa and Slavia, couldn't even speak English. Many probably didn't ever understand what was going on."
Jake paused and didn't speak for a long time. Chris didn't know what to say. He remained silent, not knowing what the appropriate comment would be, not knowing if his family was on the striker's side or the other. But he did know that he wasn't on the side of Peabody Coal, and old man Peabody... They're the guilty ones , Chris thought, turning man against man.
After a long silence. Jake said, "yes,that's the site of the Herrin massacre...Grandpappy died out there. Mom told me he just wanted to work, take care of her and the kids...had no choice, work or starve...He had no where else to turn."
Chris squirmed and smoked another cigarette. Jolly Jake, no longer laughed and joked as they drove on. Chris knew Jake hadn't talked about this painful experience for a long time.
In no time Jake reached his destination and he turned off to his farm and he let Chris off at the junction. He thanked him for the ride and surprisingly Jake thanked him. Chris didn't understand at first ,but as he stood by the road looking to get another ride he realized it did him some good to talk about the Herrin massacre and his grandfather's involvement and probably felt less guilt when Chris told him that his grandfather did nothing wrong. Peabody coal company was to blame.
It wasn't long before Chris got another ride with a farmer, this time he took him up to US 40 at Effingham, and from there, Chris hitched East. Since 40 was a more traveled highway , Chris hoped for a longer ride.
Around Effingham, the land was flatter not as hilly as in Southern Illinois. He remembered Jake telling him that Southern Illinois represented the tail end of the glaciers during the ice age and the reason the central and northern part of the state was flat was because the glaciers stripped the ground smooth, pushed all the rocks and debris down to Southern Illinois.
It wasn't long until Chris got another ride and this time a golden ride, all the way to Columbus, Ohio. Chris was ecstatic when Fast Eddy introduced himself and told of his destination. Eddy, liked to be called Fast Eddy because he fancied himself as a swinger. All afternoon, it was one dirty joke after another. It got to be a bore, each time he told a joke he'd burst out laughing and Chris since he was an obliging passenger on a long ride, obliged him and laughed , a forced laugh. He even forced himself to laugh at the more raunchy ones.
Eddy was an air force sergeant, going home to Columbus on leave, and all he talked about besides the dirty jokes was fucking pussy when he got home. He even offered to fix Chris up but he declined. The only time Eddy didn't talk about women and sex was when they passed Wright-Patterson Air Force base near Dayton Ohio.
Eddy, leaned over and asked Chris, " You know what's over there." He said smiling as if he was about to embark on another dirty joke.
Chris looked at him prepared himself to laugh, said, "no."
" Hanger l8," he said in an echoing tone, "Hanger l8... know what's in Hanger l8?"
Chris thought that it had something to do with sex or something and he shook his head, "no, what's there"
"A wrecked martian flying saucer," he said. It crashed in l948 outside of Rosswell, New Mexico. "
Chris,didn't know if he was kidding of not, His tone sounded serious, but throughout the whole trip he talked nothing but women and sex. He still thought that this was a prelude to another joke so he played along with him. " You're shittin me," he joked, " the next thing you'll tell me that they found some martians in it. "
"Oh, they did...three of 'em... all dead, didn't survive the crash." He continued in a serious tone. Chris couldn't believe it, but the more he talked, the more he was convinced that he really believed it. "They keep the saucer locked up in Hanger l8, about the size of half a football field they tell me. I knew a buddy stationed here, and he told me everything. It was in l951, late at night. Ever since, they kept it locked up in the hanger. They didn't want to panic the public with this sort of thing. You know. "
" Shit, I don't believe you. Why would they do that?" reasoned Chris still convinced that this was all part of a joke and he swore to himself that wasn't going to fall for it. But Eddy was so convincing and Chris began to think that it might be true, but upon more thought realized that it couldn't be true.
Eddy continued on this topic all the way to Columbus. He went on and on, about the security arrangements, the three rows of eighteen feet high fences with barbed wire at the top, the K-9 attack dogs that ran around the outer perimeter, the mines in the middle perimeter and the automatic machine guns trained to fire on any moving objects in the area. The whole complex was tightly secured and only the base commander and some people from the pentagon have access to it. Years ago, some scientist studied them and even dissected one of the martians, but when they all died of some strange disease, they locked up every thing so tight to prevent the release of any possible harmful germs into the environment.
At times the story was half believable to Chris, but other times it seemed farfetched.It made since to quarantine the craft if it had a deadly germ in it, and it also made since not to tell the public about it. Surely they would panic if they knew, thought Chris. Regardless, it was an interesting story, true or not, and quite a relief from the dirty jokes he had to put up with before.
By nightfall they arrived at Columbus and Fast Eddy being the nice guy that he was drove him through the congested streets and dropped him off on the eastern side of Columbus.
Chris thought that was nice of him as he stood by the side of the road, hitching and hoping to pick up a long night ride. Cars sped by, and he wondered if he should've taken Eddy up on his offer of getting fixed up. Eddy even repeated his offer when he dropped him off so he must've been serious, Chris thought. Later that night when the long night ride didn't come, Chris laid in his sleeping bag, frustrated that he didn't pick up on Eddy's offer. Shit, he thought to himself. But if he wasn't greedy, hoping for the long night ride, that never came, maybe he should’ve taken Eddy up on his offer. Well, who knows?...And now he's by himself, never ,got that ride anyway. That night Chris was hungry. He wished he had a woman to satisfy him, to take care of him and to love him. He thought about Becky, his ex-girl in Kansas and how much he needed her now.