Strange Seed by Stephen Mark Rainey Read Free Book Online

careless about his own safety, he just seems to become preoccupied. I remember when he and Mr. Lumas were covering the windows. You haven’t been here yet, so you don’t know how this house is laid out. It’s two stories tall, and Paul and Mr. Lumas had to use this old rickety ladder to get at the second-floor windows. In back, because of the cellar wall, the climb is higher in the front, and to get at the second-floor windows Paul had to climb nearly to the top of the ladder, where the rungs are rotted and dangerous. Mr. Lumas told Paul a couple of times to be careful but—I was watching from inside the second-floor back bedroom, ready to hand him the scrap wood—Paul flew up that ladder in his enthusiasm to get the work done. Well, one of the rungs broke in his hands and he nearly fell. After that, he was more cautious. I think that’s   Paul’s problem—his enthusiasm. He seems to want so much to put things in order that he temporarily loses track of simple caution.
    Rachel put the pen down; the back door had opened, she realized. A moment later, Paul and Lumas appeared in the living room doorway.
    “Hi,” Paul said. He was grinning stupidly, as if drunk. Lumas, just behind him, scowling, said, “Wouldn’t let this boy by hisself, if I was you, missus.” It was a joking remark, although, Rachel noted, she would not have been able to tell by his tone.
    “Thanks for bringing him home, Hank,” she said.
    Lumas nodded, still scowling.
    “Paul,” she sent on, “put that thing away. Please.” She indicated the rifle Paul held at an awkward angle in his right hand.
    Paul glanced at the weapon. “Oh, sorry,” he said and disappeared into the kitchen.
    Lumas stepped into the living room, leaned over Rachel, and said, “He don’t know much about how things happen around here, does he?”
    Rachel stared blankly at the man. “What do you mean, Hank?”
    The barest hint of a smile appeared on Lumas’s face. “Nothin’,” he said. “Never mind. Nothin’ at all.” He straightened.
    Paul reappeared. “Supper almost ready, Rachel?    He crossed the room and plopped into his wing-backed chair.
    “In a few minutes,” Rachel said. “I put it on about a half hour ago.” She glanced at Lumas, indicated her wicker hair. “Sit down, Hank.”
    “No thanks. I got to be goin’.”
    “Stay for supper,” Paul offered. “We owe you at least that much for all the work you’ve done.”
    “You don’t owe me nothin’.” He paused. “But if you got enough, yeah—I’ll stay.”
    “Good,” Paul said. He looked a Rachel. “Did Hank tell you what we saw on the way back?”
    “No, he didn’t. What—“
    “Nothin’ to tell,” Lumas cut in sharply. “Paul said he seen somethin’—“
    “You’ve got that backward, don’t you?” Paul said. “You pointed it— him , I mean—out to me.”
    “Him? “ Rachel asked.
    “Or her,” Paul amended. “A child, maybe. It was hard to tell because of the rain.”
    “The rain?”
    “Over in those fields.” He gestured to the north. “It was raining there and Hank pointed at this…kid running away to the north, through the fields. I could hardly see him, but Hank said he was naked; didn’t you, Hank?”
    Lumas said nothing. He looked as if he felt intimidated.
    “If it was a child,” Paul went on, “we should probably go after him, for his own protection. I mean, if he was naked, as you said, Hank, and he’s caught in that storm—“
    “Wasn’t nothin’,” Lumas cut in. “Wasn’t nothin’ at all. Forget it.”
    “But we did see—“
    “Forget it! Storms and such play tricks on ya. I oughta know. And that’s all it was. Just a trick.”
    Paul looked incredulously at him, then at Rachel, and grinned stupidly again. “Okay, Hank. Whatever you say.”
    “I’ll get the table set,” Rachel said,   and stood.   “It’s good that you’re staying, Hank.”
     

Chapter Seven

    Paul couldn’t believe what Lumas was telling