The Burning Time by J. G. Faherty Read Free Book Online Page B

all right?”
    “Yeah.” Mitch wiped the blood away from his nose. Dark lines on his face showed where tears had turned dry dirt to mud. “These pussies couldn’t hit their way out of a paper bag.”
    The boys’ apparent ringleader took a step forward. “You little fuck. I’ll—”
    “That’s enough.” John stepped in front of Mitch. “Go home. Whatever problem you had with him is finished, understand? I find out you’ve been making trouble, I’ll go to the police.”
    The group of young teens laughed. “Go ahead. Fatso Showalter ain’t gonna do shit to us.” The heavyset boy crossed his arms over his chest, calling John’s bluff.
    Time to end this. John whispered a few words in the language of the swamps and then made a fist. “If he won’t, then I’ll come after you myself.”
    “You hit one of us, you’ll be the one in jail.”
    “I didn’t say anything about hitting.”
    John opened his hand, at the same time making an underhand tossing motion, as if throwing a ball to a small child. But instead of a ball, several long, green serpents sailed through the air toward the boys. They landed on the ground, hissing and coiling. Several of the boys jumped; the one who’d challenged John shouted and fell down as the snakes slithered rapidly toward them.
    When they got within two or three feet, the boys lost their nerve and ran away.
    Mitch turned to John. “Holy shit! How’d you do that?”
    “Do what?”
    “The—” Mitch pointed at the snakes and then stopped as he realized they were gone. “Where’d they go?”
    John smiled. “Maybe they weren’t ever there. Or maybe they went back to where they came from. Cottonmouths prefer the swamps and streams.”
    “There’s no Cottonmouths in New York,” Mitch said.
    “You know what? You’re right. So I guess there couldn’t have been any snakes at all. C’mon.” He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and led him back to the road. “Help me carry some wood to your house. We still have work to do.”
    As they picked up the railings, Mitch asked, “You’re not gonna tell Danni about this, are you?”
    “Why don’t you want her to know?”
    Mitch shrugged.
    Remembering his own childhood and taunts of the children— Witch boy! Your momma sleeps with the Devil! —John nodded. “Children can be mean, especially when someone’s different. It doesn’t matter if that difference is being smarter, taller, or walking with a limp. I know it doesn’t help now, but in a few years things will be very different. Your brains will carry you a lot further than their muscles.”
    “That’s if I make it through the next few years.”
    John laughed. “You will. Nobody thinks they can, but everyone does. Look at all the adults around you. Most of them went through something at your age. Being a teenager is hard, no matter where or when you grow up.”
    Mitch looked up at him. “Even for assholes like Ralphie?”
    “Especially them. How would you feel if everyone was smarter than you? Most bullies do what they do so no one makes fun of them first.”
    Mitch frowned as he considered John’s words. “So maybe Ralphie’s more miserable than me?”
    “I wouldn’t be surprised. And if he’s not now, he will be someday. Bullies always get theirs in the end. My father used to say, ‘The world has a way of evening the balance.’”
    “Kinda like, ‘what comes around goes around?’”
    “Exactly. The Hindus call it ‘karma.’”
    “Reverend Christian says a real God smites his enemies, and we should do the same, before they can smite us.”
    A brief chill ran up John’s back, making him shiver despite the blistering heat. “Be careful around him, Mitch. Some of the things he says, well...” He paused, unsure of how much to say.
    “Well what?”
    Leave it to a thirteen-year-old boy to not let something go. John shook his head. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I don’t trust him.”
    Mitch stared at the dusty road. “Yeah.” A car went by,