Short Story / Land
Land
Be cool. Gotta be cool. He’ll pass. He don’t want you. Slow down just a little. Not too much. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Just ease up on the accelerator enough to make him just a little bit faster than you are. Just enough to make him see that he needs to go around you. Okay then, slow down a little more if he don’t want to pass you.
Why ain’t he passing?
He must just not be in a hurry.
But cops are always in a hurry. They always pass you unless they want you.
Why would he want you? You weren’t speeding, were you? You weren’t weaving all over the road, were you? You got your seatbelt on, don’t you? You got your hands at 10 and 2 o’clock, don’t you? Your headlights work, don’t they? Why would he want you?
But he had turned around. Why had he turned around and followed?
Don’t worry about it. Cops turn around all the time. That’s all they do, really. They go this way, then they turn around and go that way. You just happened to pass him when he was coming up on one of his turning around spots. Just a coincidence. That’s all.
Why ain’t he passing already?
Slow down a little more. Is that sweat on your steering wheel? You’re fine, boy. Just fine.
Seems like he would have passed by now.
Why would he? Why on earth would anyone be in a hurry to get anywhere at this ungodly hour of the night? He’s just biding his time. His shift’s probably almost over. He’s just waiting. Taking it slow. Trying to stay out of trouble. Just like you.
But he had turned around.
Stop it. I done told you, that’s just what they do.
Is he getting closer? I believe he’s getting a little closer.
A little. Don’t worry. You slowed down, remember? Of course he’s gonna get a little closer if you slow down. Damn boy, you’re really starting to scare me. Just concentrate on the road. Just concentrate on driving. Just concentrate on being cool. Think about Theresa. Think about little Robbie. Think about the land.
The land. Your little half-acre lot. All you need, really. It’s more than enough for you and Theresa and little Robbie. You can set your trailer up at the back of the lot, way back off the road, but far enough from the back property line so that Theresa can have enough room to plant a little garden back there. She can raise whatever she wants back there. Tomatoes, beans, okra. Whatever. Won’t be nobody there to tell her what she can and can’t do with it. ‘Cause it will be yours. You can take your picket fence you built at the trailer park with you. It don’t belong to nobody but you. Sure, ole Mr. Greenlee will try to say that it has to stay on his property, onnacounta it’s affixed to his property, but it’s yours. You built it. You painted it. You dug the post-holes yourself. You just let him try to stop you from taking it to your land. You can fence in the front of your lot with it. You can have you a nice little yard with a nice little picket fence around it. But inside the fence will be all Robbie’s. it will be his little kingdom to play in and run wild. Won’t have to worry about him there. Won’t have to worry about stray dogs wandering in. Won’t have to worry about him wandering out. Won’t have to worry about them damn cars flying down the road like metal demons and chrome, shining teeth waiting to gobble up the little things there in front of them. Robbie’ll be safe in his kingdom of green grass and white, picket walls. Won’t have to worry about nothing there. It will be your land. It will be your home. More than you’ve ever had before, ain’t it? More than your daddy every had. But it ain’t yours yet. So you gotta be cool.
His headlights sure are bright, ain’ they? Why’s he got his bright lights on?
Hard to see on this little road.
But he’s right there behind. Between these dim lights and his, surely that’s enough to see, ain’t it?
Stop looking in the mirror. Don’t let him keep seeing you look in the mirror. He will start to get suspicious. Just mind what’s in front of you. This road leads home, boy. Don’t forget that. Just a little while more and you’ll be there. You’re just going home, that’s all. Just like he is, probably. Hell, he’s probably got his own place too. You’re both just a couple of dudes going home is all. Just a quick glance in the mirror. Damn, you look a sight, boy! Calm down. Be cool. You’re fine. Roll the window down. Let some fresh air in here. Smoke you a cigarette. Let him know that you’re fine. Let him know that you know he’s back there and that you ain’t worried about it. That’s it. Be careful now. Just take one out of the pack. The last three are always the hardest to get out. You just had to get you a soft pack, didn’t you? Just shake one out. Tap the pack on the bottom. Put your knees on the bottom of the steering wheel, right here at the straightaway. There you go. Just leave them other two on the floor. You can’t smoke but one at a time anyway, right? Are you out of your mind? Don’t throw that empty pack out the window! Almost forgot he was back there, didn’t you? Good. But don’t completely forget about him. Keep a healthy respect for him, but don’t dwell on him. That’s the way to do it. That’s the way to be cool. Lighter don’t work? The fuse. That’s right. Kept meaning to change it, didn’t you? Got a lighter in your back pocket. Be careful. There you go. Easy now. You ain’t never gonna get it lit with the window down. There. Drive with your knees. You’ve done it a million times before. You’ve been doing it since you were sixteen. Just long enough to get it lit. Good. Cup it in your hands. Take your eyes off the road for just a second. Put the cigarette to the flame. Damn, boy! Just like James Dean! Now you’re just having a smoke. Taking a drive. Going home. Just think, this time next week you’ll be smoking on your own porch. Looking out on your own yard. Watching the boy play there. Sipping iced tea. Thinking about later when the boy will be asleep and you and Theresa can lock the door and christen your new home right. Make all the places holy. Make all the places home. Maybe she’ll even want to have another young’un. The trailer’s big enough. Remember when you bought it? Three bedrooms. You insisted on three bedrooms. You were full of hope then. You needed two extra rooms for the two children you were going to have. But you just had to move it into a trailer park, didn’t you? You just had to stick it on someone else’s land. It didn’t seem right having kids when you didn’t have a place to stand. Robbie had been an accident. A happy accident, they call them, but an accident, just the same. But the next one will be planned. Land brings plans out of people. It gives them a whole new framework to think in. Land gives you hope. Your daddy never had land. Maybe that’s why he . . .
Don’t worry. He’s just checking you out. Just wondering what you’re doing on this old stretch of highway at three o’clock in the morning.
That spotlight sure is bright, ain’t it?
Don’t look in the mirrors. It might blind you. Make you swerve. Draw attention to you. He’s just checking to make sure you ain’t bringing a bottle up to your lips, or hitting on a doobie, or something. Be cool. You ain’t no drunk. You ain’t no dopehead. You ain’t no drifter. You ain’t no vagabond. You ain’t no beggar. You’re a land owner. You’re somebody now. You won’t ever be treated the same now. Remember how that man at the bank had looked at you? Remember how he had made you fill out all them forms, even though he knew all along that he wasn’t gonna loan you the money. Debt ratio too high, he said, but he had known that right from the start. He had known that while you waited on him in the waiting room. Waited on him forty five minutes. You had told him about your debt ratio on the phone. But he told you to come on down. He was just messing with you. Having a little fun with you. Because you were nobody. Just a drifter. A ghost. Banks are for landowners and rich people. But you ain’t no landowner yet. Just a little while longer. Be cool.
Okay, here’s what you need to do. You need to just pull over, slowly. Turn you signal on and-----wait, no, don’t turn your signal on. It will make you look like you’re trying too hard to do everything right. Just ease over onto the shoulder. Don’t look at the blue lights. Just watch the road. You’re fine. You’re cool. Just keep your head for a few more minutes and then you’ll be on your way. What’s the worse that could happen?
He could look in the trunk.
He won’t look in the trunk. Even if he does, he won’t find it. You hid it good, remember? Like a professional. If a body didn’t know any better, they’d say you’ve been doing this all your life. First and last time, that’s right, and only for the land. He won’t look in the trunk, anyway. He’s got to have a reason to look in the trunk. All you got to do is not give him a reason. All you got to do is be cool. There’s the spot, right up there. Pull in there. Easy now. Not too fast. Not too slow. You’re fine. Now stop. Put it in neutral. Pull up the emergency brake. Cool.
Man, he’s big, ain’t he? Don’t worry. He can’t hurt you. He’s the Law, remember? And you ain’t done nothing wrong, no way. Just as long as he don’t look in the trunk. He probably just wants to find out what you’re doing out so late. Probably just wants to make sure you ain’t drunk or high. Don’t throw that cigarette out! What’s wrong with you? You want him to cite you for littering? Put it in the ashtray. There you go. Look cool. Get your licence and registration and proof of insurance ready--—--no, wait, don’t. Don’t look too hasty. Don’t look too compliant. It might make him nervous. Might make him wonder what you’re up to. Don’t do anything until he tells you to. And don’t act too friendly. That’s a dead giveaway. Speak as little as possible, and don’t move too fast or too slow. Don’t give him a reason to look in the trunk. Okay, he wants it now. Stop smiling so much! It ain’t like he’s pulled you over to invite you out for a drink or something. Act a little perturbed. Not too much. There you go. Fine. Licence and registration and proof of insurance? Paper-clipped together in the glove box. You came prepared. A real cool cucumber.
He don’t say much, does he?
Just reading the papers.
Can’t see his eyes. Can’t see what kind of expression he has on his face.
Don’t worry about what your face looks like. It ain’t changed since the last time you saw it. Stop fidgeting with the keychain. Don’t be afraid. The Law is good. The Law helps people like you. They ain’t out to hurt you. He ain’t no monster. He’s just a man, like you are, probably got his own piece of land somewhere, and a wife and kid. The Law is just like you. Remember when that one policeman came to the trailer to tell you about your daddy? Said the shot hadn’t messed him up too bad. Said he’d look just like you always knew him to look when you buried him. Remember him? He prayed with you there in the living room floor. Ain’t no law said he had to do that. He did it ‘cause he was good. Maybe this guy’s the same way. Just a good ‘ole boy that would help a feller out. And Lord knows, you need all the help you can get. Just trying to get you a piece of land, is all. Remember when you and Theresa went out to look at it? How optimistic you were? How you both believed you could really do it when the owner said he would finance it for you? He even looked a little optimistic himself. Only two thousand dollars down, and you could move your trailer on it and start making payments on your own piece of land. Yeah, he looked real optimistic, right up until you told him you washed dishes at Shoney’s, and what your last name was.
A taillight. See, all that worrying was for nothing. Just a taillight out. Didn’t even know it. It must have happened between this morning when you left and tonight. You checked everything out good before you left, I know. Made sure there was nothing wrong with the car. It was working good this morning. Just a coincidence. Just bum luck. He’ll give you a warning, or maybe he’ll write you out a ticket. That’s all. Then he’ll let you go. When you get home you’ll be able to pay the ticket and buy twenty extra taillight bulbs to keep in the car. Stay cool, man. Let him look you over. He’s just doing his job.
Been a lot of drug running down in Georgia on this little road? What does that have to do with you? He can’t search your car unless you tell him he can. But he can bring you in for refusing to give consent. That’s a fucked up law. I mean, why even bother asking then? Are you sure that’s legal? Ain’t much we can do about it now, old buddy. Just hope you hid it well.
Damn that Freddie. Easy money, he said. Just drive down to Macon, pick up a package and bring it home. Five thousand dollars. Easy money. More than enough to make the down payment on your land, have the trailer moved, put in a fill line and have a well dug, get the driveway graded and graveled. Easy money? Buddy, ain’t no such thing. Ain’t that the truth?
Be cool. Just do what he tells you. Walk around to the back of the car with him. Don’t say nothing. Keep your hands where he can see them. Be cool.
You remember how they found your daddy? Remember him sitting on the toilet, with that shotgun propped up between his knees? The blood. He died in that little apartment. They cleaned him up and cleaned him off the tile and washed him all away and rented it out to somebody else. They just washed him away like he never was there to begin with. Dying like that, in his boxer shorts, on someone else’s property. When they buried him, they put him in the Baptist Church cemetery. Pushed the dirt over him and made him disappear. He died in a borrowed home and was buried in a borrowed grave. But that ain’t you, buddy boy. You got you some land. All you got to do is get yourself out of this mess and get on down the road. Listen up, man. Listen.
It’s time to stop being cool.
Wait till he gets bent over the trunk. He’ll have to stick his head in there good if he’s gonna find it. When he gets it in there, shove him as hard as you can. Startle him. It will give you the edge. Then grab the gun. Once you get that gun, you’ll be home free. That gun is the only thing giving him an advantage. That gun’s the only thing standing between you and land. But you’ll have to do it fast. It won’t be easy. Cops are trained to protect their guns like their daughters’ cherries. That’s it. Slow. Then when you get to him, be fast. Be fast, boy, or you’ll be dead.
Grab it! There you go. Pull it out. Don’t let him grab your hand! Pull! Kick him! Get that gun! Shit. Hit him! Pull the gun out for God’s sake! Got it. Get his hands off of it. Fuck! Knee him in the balls. Now! Bite his hand. Shove him off of you! Shove him off with the gun!
Damn boy, I said to shove him with the gun, not shoot him in the face. Didn’t mean to. I know. It just went off. That’s what they all say, buddy boy. But ain’t nobody gonna listen to you. You’re as good as dead. You can’t just kill a cop and disappear. Oh, he’s dead alright. Ain’t no doubt about that. Just look at him. I ain’t no doctor, but I’m pretty sure you can’t be alive with three quarters of your head gone. Wonder if he had time to call this in? Wonder if back up is on the way yet? Don’t wait around to find out. Just get in the car. Just drive, boy and don’t look back. Don’t look back until you get home and then only look back once. Look back once and forget about it. Look back once and live.
Sure are a lot of them, ain’t they?
Of course. Hell, probably every cop in the country and half the state is after you. They gonna kill you, boy. Ain’t gonna be no trial. Ain’t gonna be no death row. They just gonna shoot you on sight. Boy, you could have stole your momma’s welfare check, pissed on the American flag, raped a nun, poised a water supply, and they would take you in according to law and order. But kill a cop? Hell, you’re a dead man. Just keep that gas pedal pressed to the floor and get your ass home. You can worry about what you’re gonna do when you get there. But it won’t make no difference if you don’t get there. Boy, this little piece of crap will move when she wants to, won’t she? Them four cylinders is pumping and grinding like a hopped up lap dancer down there. Watch out for that tree!
Wonder how long it takes for a tree to grow big enough to put a treehouse in?
You could palnt a tree in your front yard. Maybe it would be grown big enough to build a treehouse in before little Robbie gets too big to play in one. It don’t matter. You need you a tree in your front yard, anyway. Something you can plant and water and take care of. It would belong to you, you know. Onnacounta it will be affixed to your property. God can’t even take that away from you.
Damn! Are they shooting?
Get your head down! Watch the road!
You’ll have to get you a lawnmower, you know. It ain’t much to mow, but too much to mow with that little weedeater you got.
How many of them are there back there?
Don’t worry about that now. Just get home. Get Theresa and Robbie. Get to the land. They can’t take away your land. You’ll pay the man his down payment and it will be yours, buddy boy. But it ain’t yours yet. Gotta get this dope to Freddie somehow. Gotta get paid.
Gotta build a back deck on the trailer, once you get it moved out there. Make sure the sun hits it good so Theresa can lay out in the sun on it. So you can watch the sun creep over her soft skin while you drink a cold beer. Gotta do that. Gonna buy Theresa a brand new bathing suit. Not a one-piecer, either. A bikini. She ain’t had a new bathing suit since the honeymoon at Myrtle Beach. Might even get her one of them g-strings. That’s one thing you’ve just got to do.
Are they gaining?
The old girl’s about to gibe out on you, I believe. When was the last time you changed the oil? Too late to worry about that now.
Just sit on the front porch on Friday evenings, after work, sipping a beer, listening to the grass grow, waiting for Saturday to come so you can cut it.
If she’ll just hold out for another mile or two, you’ll be there, boy. See, up there’s Hoot’s. Not long now. Just hang on. Try to be cool. Everything looks better when you’re seeing it from your own land. It’ll be like seeing everything for the first time. The sky. The clouds. The sun. The stars.
Watch out!
The trees. The grass.
Let off a little going around this curve. You trying to kill yourself?
Theresa. Robbie. You. You’ll even look different. You’ll look different at yourself.
Kill the lights. Maybe you can lose them. You’re almost home now. You’ve drove this road a million times. You can drive it blindfolded. Watch the shoulder. Keep your eye on the shoulder. Look for the driveway. You’re losing them. Can’t worry about that now.
Have to pay county taxes. Wonder how much taxes are? Never had to pay them before. And insurance. Got to get insurance for your trailer. It will be worth a lot more once you get it on your own land.
Up there, see it? Easy now. Be cool. Turn in. Don’t go off in the ditch. Okay, look for your trailer. Look for you white picket fence.
Got to take it down section by section. Take it out to the land. Dig the post holes. Theresa will bring iced tea out to you. She’ll watch her man drink it. She’ll rest her hands on her hips. Her hair will be pulled back in a pony tail. Sweat will be gathered on her neck, and down the front of her chest. Her face will look like an angel’s. She’ll watch her man drink tea, watch it spill down the front of his shirt. She’ll smile, and the world will seem right for once in your life.
Damn! They still coming, boy. I don’t know what to tell you. Just get to the house. Get inside. Then figure out what to do. If you can just get to Theresa and Robbie everything will be alright. It will work out, somehow. God wouldn’t let you get this close to getting you some land and then slam the door in your face. Not after what happened to your daddy. They’s only so much that can happen to a person.
Gonna have to get you some empty boxes from Hoot. Wonder if they will move a trailer with all your stuff inside, or do you have to get it all out. Might have to borrow a truck from somebody. Maybe they’ll let you leave it all in there if you tie it all down good.
Get out! Quick! Before they get here. When they get here and get out of their cruisers, the shooting will start boy. Got to get in that trailer. They won’t shoot in the trailer with a woman and child in there. You’ll be safe once you get in there. You can figure out what you’re gonna do next then. Look at all them other trailers. All them lights coming on. All them faces pressed against them dirty windows. Nosy bastards. It sure will be nice to get out of here.
Get over the fence! Don’t break it! You gotta take it with you, for God’s sake! There. Just a few more feet. Don’t worry about them car doors you hear slamming behind you. Don’t worry about the shouting. Just get to the trailer. Just get home.
Didn’t hurt as bad as you thought it would, did it? The fall hurt worse than anything. Where did they get you? Somewhere in the back. Can you move?
Not really. A little.
Crawl, boy. Get on up to the porch. Get to the door. There she is.
Theresa. Theresa. Theresa. I see you baby.
Thank God Robbie’s asleep. Wouldn’t wan him to see you like this, would you? Here on this other man’s land. Bleeding out onto his soil. You’d better hope they don’t bury you in the Baptist Church cemetery.
Theresa baby, don’t let them bury me there. If you have to, just tell them to leave me out somewhere. Don’t put my body in the ground if it ain’t our ground, baby. Just leave me out. Just let me dry up and blow away. Just let me disappear. You and Robbie will remember me, won’t you?
Here they come. You’re about to get one in the head, ‘ole buddy. Hope it was worth it.
Watch the fence boys!
Don’t break my fence!
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this is a beautiful piece whether it is hard to follow or not (i had no trouble following it. just by the way he spoke i knew it was his inner thoughts and not outer dialogue. the absense of ” ” helped as well.)
any person who has ever seen a cop pull a 180 and speed up after you knows what that feels like. its unnerving. it makes your brain throb and your pulse race in unison with the pistons. the eternity that he follows you can also be nerve racking until you want to slam on the brakes and just get it over with.
the fact that the man had something to hide made the feeling that much more intense. i liked how you kept weaving the mans thoughts of his wife and son in with it. it was like he was trying to take the panic off his mind. i could almost image those same thoughts racing through my head as i was driving home. what would i do? if in the same situation, how far would i go to get ahead. to get some land.
the action part was a bit harder to follow. i kept thinking did he just grab the gun or is he imagining the scenario in his head. “is he really gonna do it?” i kept thinking.
you kept a constant pace with this story and your motif of dying on another mans land was something i could really understand. it’s hard to get ahead sometimes. i have two jobs right now myself, so i can definitely sympathize.
overall your story was a beautiful piece.
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I’ve never read another story written this way, and I have to say, it’s very interesting. Even first person stories aren’t written quite the same. I’ve always enjoyed other people’s inner monologues, and you seem to have captured the sense of it quite well.
I particularly liked how there were two different voices. It gave me more of a sense of urgency and madness – instead of just one ‘person’ telling him all these things, there were two, both trying to make sure he didn’t screw up.
As for the story itself, I thought it was well done. The simple urgency of wanting land; the motivation for crimes of passion. It’s not something many people explore – usually, it’s always about love, hate, and revenge. This seemed to speak to a different part of human nature, and you made it make sense to me. I understood why someone would want land so much, just through your words.
Now that I’ve read this, I’m more interested in seeing more stories written like this. You did a great job.
Wow! I really enjoyed this. I think the “talking to himself” experiment worked well – it showed the action while at the same time letting the reader know a bit about the protagonist. After he shot the cop, the fact that he still wouldn’t give up on his dreams of owning his own land was both sad and darkly funny. Well done!
The only mistakes I noticed:
“poised a water supply” – ‘poisoned’?
“you white picket fence” – ‘your’.
This is one of the most polished pieces I’ve encountered here on Urbis. Consider trying to publish this. Good luck!
I didn’t find the narrative confusing as you say other reviewers have. I did find the beginning a little slow to the start and was probably about a quarter into the story before I really felt drawn into it. once in though I was quickly sucked in. I was surprised with how well you build sympathy for a character using this in the head narrative, but by the end I was right there with him, hoping he would somehow pull out, and properly saddened when he didn’t.
It sort of reminded me of reading those old Alfred Hitchcock Anthologies. Which to me anyways is a good thing.
If you could maybe make the beginning a ittle more inviting, you’d have a really awesome story.
There were also a couple typos, nothing big. You should be able to pick those out easy enough.
I liked it and didn’t find it the least confusing to follow. The “two voices” you refer to also seem to be distinctly differentiated to me. In other words, I think it works just fine. I could be wrong, but I developed the notion that the secondary voice was the voice of his father, which I found to be interesting considering the narrator’s motivations. Speaking of which, I think you do a very good job of establishing his motivations, the feelings of impoverishment and what land owning would represent to the character. I also like how the narrator continues to engage in fantasizing about his future home as he flees the authorities. I found the sentence “Them four cylinders is pumping and grinding like a hopped up lap dancer down there.” to be witty and it made me smirk. Good ending and great job.
i thought that this was fantastic. you said that people got confused by the changes in the narrative voices. thankfully, i didn’t, and it was all the more readable because of it. it is an original style but its true. in many situations there is so much than can got through ones head, and i thought you captured that perfectly.
my favourite bit was the first passage in which he talked about his boy playing in the garden. this was really emotive. i also loved the ending and how he got so xlose to his dream. i thought that this was really moving.
one of my favourite pieces of writing on urbis. thank you.
Ok the beginning part of thi story was awesome. I had so many memories flooding into my head of everytime I got pulled over or had a police man behind me. The narration in the charachters head was very entertaining but you clumpped it all together after a while and it made it a little harder to follow. i liked it when you had it all seperated it seemed to flow much better.
It was a bit confusing when I first read it, but after reading the disclaimer everything began to fit. I really enjoy your wording. It did, however, start to drag in areas, but it had soon picked back up. It also seemed to lurch forward randomly and you’d lose me for a second. It was a great storie though. keep it up
This is really confusing in some parts, and rambles in others, but it was alright enough. There were some minor spelling problems that to my knowledge were purposeful. The grammar needs to be re checked, as well as your sentence structure.
I really thought that the idea was nice, but the way it was presented was a bit shabby. You could have done much more for this piece, but it seems like you didn’t want to make it too long.
Overall, I think that this piece needs to be re written in some parts because it gets a little muddled and dull. Also, watch out for word repeats through an entire paragraph. Try not to use the same word too often.
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