CHAPTER 10

© 2010 GREG DUNAJ

10.

              Harry kicked at the tires of the impatiently idling car. He ran his fingers though his hair. He kicked the tires again. He cursed under his breath, gave a look at Carlo, sitting on a tree stump absently puffing a cigarette, and kicked at a tire again.

              Carlo admired his cigarette with a wide smirk on his face. He rolled the cigarette gently between his thumb and forefinger. He then looked at Harry stamp about for a few minutes.

              “You understand then…?” Carlo said after a time. He sighed loudly, mocking Harry who was very angry.

              Harry had picked up a rock and flung it into the woods. Wheeling around, he took a few paces towards Carlo and wagged a finger at him. His face was screwed up in a grimace. He said nothing though and Carlo rolled his eyes.

              Harry began to trudge away.

              “I can drop you off at a Greyhound stop…”

              “Damn you…Damn you…Damn you…,” Harry cried out, but without turning around.

              “Yeah, you’re right…It was just wishful thinking on my part,” said Carlo as he rolled his cigarette some more.

              Carlo kicked at the ground and shrugged his shoulders. He puffed at this cigarette and rubbed an eye and furtively chuckled behind his hand.

              Harry had pulled off the road abruptly when Carlo finally told him they were not going to a Dedalus concert. 

              "There never was a Dedalus concert," he had said.

              Traffic whizzed by them. They were on Interstate 50 in Alabama, near Gadsden somewhere.

              Carlo had to tell him. Harry had gone beyond simply being an annoyance, he had become dangerous. He had been all over Carlo since they left the diner in Quebec, North Carolina. Harry incessantly peppered him with questions about the show, about the time, about their real chances of making it. They had purchased another map in a gas station and saw the route they now had to take to Dallas. Instead of backtracking north to highway 55, they figured it was better to take their chances through the rest of the Pesagh Forest and finally make their way through to Route 10. Harry traced the route with his finger and recited it in his head the numbers of highways they had to take, memorizing them to avoid any future mistakes.

              "We can't stop," he had said, after doing a quick calculation in his head of the miles left and the time involved. "We can't even stop to take a leak if we're going to have a chance to make the show tomorrow evening. Eight o'clock?"

              "Eight o'clock," Carlo had said, with a sigh.

              If that had been it for the questions and the worries, Carlo might have managed to keep silent a while longer about their real destination, but Harry never stopped.  Maybe with the truth out, things would be calmer, or perhaps he would finally rid himself of this burden that looked so strangely like his childhood friend, Harry. But, Carlo could not continue the charade any longer. Harry's incessant complaining about his home life and his job and the short leash he was tethered to by his wife was wearing thin. Carlo was not having a good time on this expedition. Maybe it was time to cut his loses. Still, Carlo would have been content to simply allow Harry to vent and spit venom while he sat next to him in the car if only Harry's erratic driving didn't keep banging him against the window.

              Harry attacked the back roads that wound through the hilly terrain and sharp curves of the Pesagh Forest with the least concern for safety, taking far greater risks than even Carlo would have ever dared. Though no stranger to frenetic driving Carlo found he was grey faced as Harry pushed the car to its physical limits. Threatening to send them off the road and into trees or down too-steep embankments, Harry took a couple of turns seemingly on two wheels and nearly went ballistic on a bump in the macadam. Carlo found himself gripping the seat and hanging on to the strap above the door as he bumped and rocked with every agitated movement of the car. And yet, throughout, Harry kept talking, yelling really, about his home life. The jealousy Carlo had felt earlier in the trip had given way to nausea.

              "Can't this car go any faster" yelled Harry with every North Carolina marker they passed along the weaving road, "'cause I can still see where I am!"

It went on like this for hours as Harry hurtled down the relatively empty roads. Carlo kept silent, lighting cigarette after cigarette. Harry vented and Carlo’s head kept bouncing off the window. He was afraid to open it for fear he’d be flung from the car.

It wasn’t any better though when they finally got on to a major highway. In fact Harry was even more dangerous as he continued his reckless driving while in traffic. He weaved between lanes, braking and accelerating, nearly hitting several cars in the process. Carlo was even more frightened of Harry’s driving than he was on the secondary roads.

He finally said something.

              "Er, don't you think you should take it easy. I mean, just a bit?"

              Harry gave him a look, too long for the amount of traffic on the highway.

              "We gotta get there on time right?"

              "Yeah, of course. But, hey! Watch out! It's not the end of the world, or at least I don't want this trip to be the end of our world. You know what I mean?"

              "Look at this asshole," said Harry, turning his attention to a mini-van with tourist stickers on it. Places like Carlsbad cavern and OBX and the Land of Make Believe and Wild West City adorned the van. Across the top rear of the van in gold reflective sticker letters was: "Reverend Bud, the roving reverend."        Reverend Bud was roving along between two lanes.

              Harry flashed him a middle finger as he went past at high speed, nearly clipping a bumper in the process.

              "Did you go to Two-Lane University you fucking asshole," Harry screamed. Carlo rubbed his eyes and leaned his head against the window, only to have it get bounced off by the car's rocking motion.

              "Harry! You're getting a bit extreme here."

              But Harry was concerned with the Roving Reverend saluting him with his own middle finger. The right reverend Bud was leaning an arm and his head and shoulders out the car window and shaking his finger at Harry.

              "Asshole!" Harry screamed and began to weave between two lanes, just like the Reverend had previously. He braked suddenly and forced the Reverend to veer into another lane, where the Roving Reverend nearly hit another car. The van screeched to a halt onto the center grassy median.

              Harry sped up now, happy with himself.

              "Showed him, the fucker. There's a Jersey guy on the road pally! You better watch out!"

              "Harry!"

              "You better watch out you cracker-ass, gap-toothed fuckers!" He screamed at the windshield and laughed.

              "Harry! Will you cut this shit out! Kris should keep you on a tighter leash."

              "You wanna get in the backseat so you can tell me how to fucking drive, and leave my wife out of this. All right? This whole trip has been a pain in the ass, and you're going to bust my chops? It's enough I gotta hear it from her without you rubbing my face in it."

              "No, man. I know we’ve got to get to Texas, but you're not even driving to get there."

              "Yeah, right. Getting lost was my fault?"

              "Hey, you're fighting with everything, everybody. I didn't realize you were so unhappy. You are unhappy you know, don’t you know? And, this trip wouldn't be a pain in the ass if your ass wasn't so unhappy."

              "Fuck you."

              "See you're even yelling at me."

              "Fuck you."

              "Yeah, yeah, fuck you too. You're a waste of time. You think this has been a pain in the ass for you? This is the worst trip I've ever been on."

              Harry looked at Carlo, for a long time. His eyes were big, suddenly imploring. He nearly hit a car in the process.

              "Ever," repeated Carlo, gripping the dashboard. "You are so boring. I should have realized it, before I contacted you about going to Texas. You need a babysitter. You need your wife to keep you in line. I don't have the time, or the inclination. You're a big fucking baby. And, the funny part is, there was a time you weren't like this and this little trip would have been an adventure, not a pain. Is this a great adventure? No. Harry, you have changed. When did you get to be a pain? "

              Harry said nothing. He just drove.  He slowed down some, though he still weaved between lanes.

              "The worst part, about this great adventure of ours, this great, fucking adventure of ours, is it's really just a waste of time."

              Harry's eyes got even bigger.

              "Yeah, asshole. Not only are you a waste of time, but this trip is a waste of time, well, at least for you."

              Carlo chuckled.

              "I don't want to know," Harry murmured.

              "Me, well, I'm going there, down there, regardless, for a new start, I guess," said Carlo without hearing Harry. He looked out the window and puffed his cigarette. "But you, Mr. Family Man," he said, still looking out the window. "Fuck you and your precious home life. Well, this trip doesn't even have any, any meaning for you. Not only are you a waste of time, the trip is a waste of time for you."

              "I told you I don't want to know!" Harry was much louder this time and this time Carlo heard him. He turned and gave Harry a puzzled look.

              "You have got some secret again. I knew it. You’ve got a hidden agenda. Some detour, some secret and you're dragging my ass around. Texas! I'll be lucky if I end up in Texas. Where do you have us headed? Idaho. Just let me get to Dallas first so I can see Dedalus. Then you can drop me off and go on your fucking merry way."

              "Ha!" laughed Carlo sharply. "Ha!"

              "Just get me that far and you can laugh ALL you want."

              "You know what my secret is...there's no show. That's my fucking secret."

              Harry drove for a few seconds without saying anything.

              "I told you I didn't want to know," Harry murmured through gritted teeth.

              "Ha! There never was a Dedalus concert."

              Harry caromed off the highway and bounced into a little grassy area off the shoulder. He leaped from the car and began to stamp about. Carlo watched him for a moment, but it was too hot to sit in the car. He said nothing, but got out of the car and found a tree stump to sit on and watched Harry with a smirk on his face. Harry kicked at the ground and threw stones.

Carlo admired his cigarette, rolled its length between his thumb and forefinger. Gitanes. From France. He had laid in a supply before he returned to America. America, home of the brave, Dedalus and this mook. Harry was obviously angry; Carlo decided to push him a bit more.

              "You understand then...?" Carlo sighed, though there was nothing Harry could possibly understand about the entire predicament. And, true to form Harry's reaction was a confluence of anger and frustration and, inaction. He wheeled around and wagged a finger at Carlo, but he trudged away without saying anything. Carlo was not going to let him off that easily.

              "I can drop you off at a Greyhound stop..."

              "Damn you...Damn you...Damn you....," Harry cried out.

              "Yeah, you're right...It's just wishful thinking on my part."

              Carlo idly kicked at the ground and shrugged his shoulders. He smiled a bit to himself, but covered his smile with his hand. He puffed at his Gitane and rubbed an eye. He then closed his eyes and held his face up to the sun. The traffic on route 55 hurtled by this aimless pair.

              Harry began grunting. Carlo didn't hear him, because of the traffic. With eyes closed, Carlo brought his cigarette to his lips and puffed away. Harry’s grunting got louder although Carlo still could not hear him. Carlo was happy with this turn of events. At least they couldn’t get into a car accident just sitting here. Carlo was pleased with his present state of existence and he sat passively on his tree stump like a mushroom.  He remained in this position, sunning himself, seemingly content to pass the rest of the day on this perch, until he got whacked on the side of the head with a clump of crab grass.

              It knocked him to the ground.

              Harry had been pulling and kicking at the grass, yanking big tufts of it out of the ground, roots and all, and hurling it towards the woods. His labored efforts were the source of his grunts. One toss had slipped out of his hands and landed full on Carlo's face.

              "What're you doing?" Carlo cried out from his place on the ground. Harry ignored him and continued to kick and tear at the grass. Carlo rooted his ear with a finger and pulled out dirt. Harry grunted as he struggled with a particularly stubborn clump. He grunted with every tug, his back bent, his feet planted firmly on either side.

"The Greyhound bus will be quicker than trying to dig your way home, you idiot."

Harry grunted and tugged and finally loosed the clump of grass, falling on his butt in the process. Carlo had started to pick himself off the ground when Harry stamped over to him, gripping the grass like an executioner holding the hair of a guillotine victim. He held the clump of grass aloft like Diogenes and his lantern. He stood before Carlo, his childhood friend, his mentor, and held up the clump and motioned at it with a nod of his head.

              "You see this thing? It's got more roots than you. It has more to live for than you. Without me, ME, you got nobody."

              Carlo knocked the clump of grass from Harry's hand and pushed him to the ground. He jumped on him and they rolled and struggled and punched each other. The anger and emotion they had each harbored inside them, now escaped, fueling their attacks. They flailed at the other and cursed and rolled in the dirt and grass of Alabama. Harry gained an advantage when he succeeded in hitting Carlo in the jaw and rolled on top of him. He pressed his knees onto Carlo's arms and pinned him to the ground. Carlo struggled and tried to kick Harry off him, but to no avail as Harry pressed his full weight down. Harry grabbed Carlo by the cloth of his shirt and bent down nose to nose with him. Carlo, breathing heavily, stopped his struggling as Harry stared at him.

              "I've watched you go off on your own for all these years. All these years I've seen you pick up and leave and I'd always wondered where to. Where were you going? I always imagined going off with you. I always wished I could go. I've always resented you leaving, and, me not going with you."

              Carlo looked at him blankly. Harry wiped his sweaty face with the heel of one hand.

              "Well, now that you've gotten your fucking wish...How the fuck does it feel?"

              Harry released his grip and rolled off Carlo and looked up at the sky.

              "Well, it's not all that I thought it would be."

Puzzled, Carlo furrowed his brow as he too stared up at the sky. They both laid there panting. The position reminded Carlo of the many lazy Saturday afternoons they had spent together lolling about in the park as kids.

"I guess I should go home. My heart's not here, it's with home."

              Carlo winced as he rubbed the spot on his shoulder where Harry's knee rested.

              "Why did you lie to me...about Dedalus?"

              "I didn't lie. I never said anything about a show. I said we're going to go see him."

              It was Harry's turn to furrow his brow at the heavens overhead.

              "I should have known. I've known you for so long now. I should have known you would have something else in mind. It can never be simple with you. It's always complicated. Kris was right, you're gonna lead me to who knows where, off the deep end, isn't that what she said? I mean, come on. Why am I driving to Texas again?"

              "Uh..."

              "Not to see Dedalus. I mean in a show. I mean you mean to drag me down to Texas to see Dedalus?"

              "That's what I said."

              "What is he going to be doing, sitting on his fucking porch, in a rocking chair, waiting with a pitcher of iced-tea? We're gonna drive up, and, he'll wave us over as if we'll be welcomed like a couple of nephews and he'll slap us on the back like he's happy to see us."

              Carlo looked at Harry for a long time before he said anything. In the past, Harry would have averted his eyes from such a look, but now Harry stared right back at Carlo.  Still lying on the grass Harry arched an eyebrow at Carlo.

              "Well..."

              "I don't think you got the iced-tea part correct."

              Harry snorted and laughed. Carlo arched his eyebrows at this change of demeanor. He was unsure of what to make of it.

              "He lives in Texas?"

              "Yeah. Not Idaho. And, Harry, I'm not leading you off the deep end."

              "Hmmmm. Somehow that's so reassuring," Harry said looking up at the sky. “What’re we going to do, knock on his door and say ‘hello, there.’?”

              “I don’t know, I haven’t got that part figured out yet,” said Carlo.

              “Great…that’s just great,” said Harry, rubbing his eyes and spitting some dirt out of his mouth.

              “I do have a confession to make,” said Carlo, with a sigh. “I'm real pleased that you're struggling." He held up a hand to quiet Harry, whose grin had faded away and turned into a confused, hurt look.

               "Misery loves company,” said Carlo, “and I'm certainly not burning down any houses with my writing."

              Harry sat up and wiped his face with his t-shirt. He then held his knees and rocked in place for a few seconds. He looked at Carlo through narrowed eyes and then laid his head on his knees. "What are you talking about, my music?” Harry rolled his eyes when Carlo nodded.  “I didn't realize it was a contest," he mumbled into his knees.  

              “Well, I haven't written anything,” Carlo exhaled loudly, “in years. I guess, except... for that time ... with Madeline...in Crete." By the time he had finished this last sentence, Carlo was mumbling too and barely audible.

              They said nothing for a long while, the only noise coming from the traffic on the highway, still whizzing by, oblivious to the pair.              

              “I’m surprised,” said Harry.

              “With what?”

              “I thought you were going to change the world with your writing.”

              Carlo laughed.

              “I thought you were going to change the world with your music,” he said.

              Harry sighed.  “You can only play so many gigs before it all seems futile.”

              Carlo laughed.

              “You can only get so many rejection letters before you want to throw everything you’ve written into the river.”

              “It’s funny how things work out.”

              “We’re a couple of losers aren’t we?”

              “Well,” said Harry, “I can’t vouch for you, but me…”

              Harry allowed his voice to trail off and did not finish the sentence.

              They laid there for a few more minutes in silence.

              “Well,” said Harry as he patted his belly. “I guess we should get going.”

              “Where am I taking you?”

              “No,” Harry said, his eyes fluttering. He wiped his face with the heel of his hand, smearing dirt across his cheek. “I’m going. I have to go. I can’t go home yet. I just can’t.”

              “You have to be calmer though. You can’t get crazy like that anymore.”

              “I promise. No more craziness.”

              Harry winced. His back was stiff from tumbling around in the dirt.

              “I’m disappointed, but I can’t go home. Not yet.”

              “Promise you’re not going to flip out anymore?”

              “Yes! Already, yes! I promise. But, this isn’t what I really wanted. You’re always hiding something Carlo.”

              “I’m not hiding anything anymore. Okay?”

              Carlo gave him a leveled look as he lay on the ground.

              “I’m not.”

              “Okay. I guess it’ll be more fun to drink iced-tea with him anyway.”

              “Yeah,” said Carlo, rolling his eyes.

              "You have to promise me one thing before we continue. Where are we going? How did you find out about Dedalus? Are you two pen pals? Have you run into him in your travels?”

              Carlo gave a half-laugh and shook his head, but offered nothing more.  He pulled out his pack of Gitanes and started tossing away the broken ones.

Harry looked at him for a long time, but Carlo was not saying anything else about the matter.

              Harry rocked some more on his knees and winced from his stiff back.

              “I suppose if you told me, I couldn’t believe you anyway.”

              “So why bother asking?”

              Carlo arched his eyebrows defiantly at a broken Gitane and tossed it over his shoulder.

              “Okay,” said Harry bowing his head.

              “Okay,” said Carlo flatly.

“Come on, we'll be here all fucking day," Carlo said after watching Harry in silence for a few moments. "Let's go get something to eat, or at least get out of this dirt."

He stood, tossed another cigarette and reached over to Harry to pull him up.

"It'll be okay," he said and he reached down to take Harry's arm.

 Harry pulled his arm roughly away from Carlo's grip, "I don't need your help," he said angrily, through gritted teeth.

Carlo raised his hands, shrugged his shoulders and then turned and walked over to the car. Harry stood with difficulty. His back was sore and he grabbed at the pain above his right hip. Carlo got in the driver’s seat of the car, but did not close the door. He opened up the window and placed his feet on the window sill. He busied himself with the rest of his broken cigarettes.

Harry stood there, facing the kudzu choked trees. He was reluctant to get back in the car so quickly. He was embarrassed with the way he acted before. Carlo was correct; he was a pain and a big baby. All right, things have changed, he thought, but he was so far along on this trip, he had to see it to the end. Carlo never told him the truth before, but they were never life threatening consequences Harry thought as he rubbed his sore hip. It’ll be just a couple of more days than he expected. Kris will understand. She always understood, no matter what.

After tossing the rest of the broken cigarettes to the ground, Carlo turned on the radio. He flipped through the stations, still resting his feet on the window sill. He was going to give Harry as much time as he needed. Carlo chuckled lowly to himself. He could always manipulate Harry.

              Neither man saw or heard the van screech to a halt in the highway. They ignored the blaring horns that admonished the van for rabidly backing up onto the shoulder of the highway. So entrenched they were in their thoughts, neither realized cars were leaping out of the way of the maniacal driver as the van bounced into the shoulder and onto the grass near them. By the time the driver pounded past Carlo in the car it was too late for Harry to get out of the way.

              Carlo did not see the short, stocky man until he had thundered past him and knocked Harry to the ground. He hit Harry like a middle linebacker; fists held up to his cheeks, elbows outstretched. He hit Harry square in the middle of his back. Harry landed full on his face.

              "Umpph," Harry said as he hit the ground.

              "Almost killed me you fucker," said the man, standing over Harry who was writhing in pain.

              "Hey!" Carlo said from his perch in the car. He tried to get out of the car, but in his haste and with his foot through the open window he fell to the ground.

              "Get up, so I can knock you down again," yelled the man at Harry. "Come on, get up," he yelled, as he now struck a puglisitc stance.

              "Hey," Carlo shouted, "what're you doing?"

              The man suddenly wheeled around on his heels and pointed a menacing finger at Carlo floundering about on the ground.

              "You want some of me too? I'll kick your ass all the way to Biloxi."

              "Bud! Stop this Bud," cried a voice from the van. A tall woman wearing lime green capris and a pink sleeveless shirt extracted herself from the van. She ran as best as she as could in the grass in cha cha heels toward this battle arena.

              "Get back in the van honey," yelled Bud, without taking his eyes off Carlo. Bud then took a menacing step towards Carlo who threw himself full on the ground. Carlo winced, expecting a blow. He waved a hand above his head as he looked at the ground between Bud's feet.

              "Bud, you can't beat everyone up!" yelled the woman, who was considerably taller than Bud. She stood off to his side as Bud still glowered down on Carlo, ready to pounce, fists clenching and unclenching. She dragged on her cigarette and pushed her oval-shaped sunglasses up her nose. "You just can't go around like this beating people up."

              "These two I can beat up the sons a bitches. I got a good excuse."

              "NO, YOU CAN'T! What is all this talk about turning the other cheek, just a bunch of SHIT?"

              Her cigarette wobbled on her pouting lips.

              Bud turned his full attention on the woman now. He looked up at her and took his cap off, revealing a bald pate. In a serious, low voice he said, "Dorothy, you know it's not right to curse like that."

              But, Dorothy did not want to hear this. She folded her arms under her small breasts and shook her curly hair ‘no’.

              "No, Bud, this is all bullshit. You keep stopping like this to twerk somebody's mug and you'll eventually get shot by some bigger knucklehead and we're never gonna get to Biloxi."

              She looked at him, lowered her sunglasses and looked over them, revealing sea green eyes.

              "And, I don't want that to happen, sweetie," she said, her voice softer now. "Besides, them dice are waiting for us," Dorothy said, swaying her hips, "and this heat won't last forever."

              She sidled up to the little man and rubbed his head with her chest. He obliged her by leaning into her bosom and allowed his head to be caressed in this manner. Bud purred. He tried to offer a muffled excuse for his actions; something about protecting her; but Dorothy grabbed the back of his head and pushed his face into her chest.

              "I know Bud; this is why we were weaving in the first place. Should have pulled over long ago."

              One red, beefy hand grabbed at her lime colored buttocks.

              For what seemed like an eternity Carlo lay on the ground and endured the foreplay, not daring to move. He then heard a harsh whisper, "psst, hey, psst," and was jabbed with the stiletto heel of a leopard-skinned, fuck-me shoe.  He looked up past the grinding buttocks of the Reverend Bud and his roving fingers into the face of Dorothy. She was mouthing the word, 'GO!' Her eyebrows were arched above the rims of her sunglasses. She jabbed him again, the look on her face vacillating between grim and seductive. Dorothy wagged her head in the direction of their car. Finally taking her cue, a stunned Carlo tried crawling on his hands and knees past them. He was trying to crawl towards Harry, who was still writhing on the ground. A sudden thrust by Bud pitched them both over Carlo. They landed in a heap, Dorothy's glasses flew away.

              "Son of a bitch," yelled Bud and he kicked at Carlo as he tried to break away from Dorothy's grasp. Though she landed hard, with the Reverend atop her, Dorothy held on tightly.

              "Just go," yelled Dorothy. "Bud, Bud honey, stop, please...," she said softly as she struggled to hold onto the riled Reverend. "Let it go...please...let it go... Will you go already!"

              Carlo leaped up and ran over to Harry, still on the ground, a hand still clutched to his back.

              "Comeon Harry, we gotta go!"

              "I can't... my back."
              "Again, your back? Christ...how bad?"

              "Errgh."

              "I'll kill you sons of bitches."

              "Harry! We gotta go."

              "What the hell hit me?"

              "The Roving Reverend Bud."

              "Huh?"

              "From Tulane University."

              "Oh... Shit!"

              "Yeah, we gotta go. He's like a fuckin' bulldog."

              Carlo grabbed him under the arms and lifted as gingerly as possible. It still hurt. Harry yelped in pain.

              Dorothy had the Roving Reverend locked in a wrestler's hold. From behind, Dorothy's legs were entwined with Bud's and his head and arms were set in odd angles from the full nelson she had him in. His belly was outstretched, his arms held over his head. He looked like a very angry Buddha. His eyes bulged and as he yelled he spit, seemingly venom. Carlo and Harry were hesitant to pass; Bud strained and cursed, but Dorothy held him tight.

              "Does your dog bite?" Carlo asked.

              "Don't worry. I was the state's female wrestling champ, Buddy ain't going no where."

              "Dorothy! Let me go!"

              "Much obliged Ma'am," said Carlo. Harry seconded his thanks with a weak nod of his head.

              "Just get outta here now. He's a little guy and sometimes there ain't enough to hold onto and he slips out." She then turned red faced with embarrassment. "I meant his arms and legs."

              Carlo and Harry looked at each other and rolled their eyes and they hurried as best they could for the car. After easing Harry in and gently closing the door, Carlo turned and ran over to the driver's side. Bud called after him one more time, still pinned in the muscular arms of Dorothy.

              "Hey! Hey you, you fucker!"

              Bud wagged a finger as best he could at Carlo with his arms pinned against his head. Carlo stopped and looked at the pair still struggling in the Alabama dirt.

“What!?" yelled Carlo, emboldened somewhat because he had the car between him and Bud.

With his arms still pinned against his head by Dorothy and straining to see Carlo from this forced angle on the ground, the Roving Reverend made the sign of the cross in the air, though he banged his hand against the ground with every side swipe.   

              "You fucker!" Bud said. "Go in peace with the Lord."