fLoOd--Part Nineteen

Don't Know Much

nInEtEeN

   Smith let out a sigh of relief and almost plopped down on the hard seat for the third time, but Davis stopped him with a sharp, "Wait!" Smith realized what he had nearly done and looked at Davis and then at Wilkerson. A sheepish smile spread over his countenance in the moonlight and he quietly murmured, "It seems there's no help for it." But as he started gingerly lowering his backside into contact with the unyielding surface below him, Davis again said, "Wait." Again Smith looked to Davis, this time with a questioning and somewhat impatient expression. Davis held up the brick as if to return it to Smith but then realized that Smith's appendages were all in use holding his posterior aloft, so instead handed it to Wilkerson, who was now doubly armed, or handed, as the case may be. Davis unwrapped the coat from around himself, unconsciously imitating Smith when he had to raise up so he could slide that portion of the garment that he was sitting on out from under himself. Once the coat was no longer entwined about him, he removed his arms from the sleeves and then folded it into a many-layered cushion and slid it underneath Smith. Smith watched this complicated operation with slowly-dawning awareness and, when the coat was protecting his tender posterior from the harshness of the wooden seat, he gently let gravity carry him down until he was no longer dependent on his aching arms and cramped legs to keep him from a distressing situation. When he was seated, he let out a long sigh and, the moment Wilkerson had returned to him his precious relic, a lone tear stole from an eye and wandered expressively down his cheek. As Smith looked at Davis, it seemed to slowly penetrate the emotion that was throbbing through him that the young man was sitting in front of him practically naked and, though the night wasn't cold by any means, still he would probably be more comfortable with something between his skin and the rather damp air. Smith himself was wearing a thin lightweight nylon jacket and thought he 'd see if there was anything more substantial in view before he offered that to the boy. Jones, across from him, had a heavier jacket on, but the man was as stiff as a statue, still pointing the gun he lacked in his direction, so it seemed that it would be a struggle to retrieve the garment. He looked at Peterson behind him, but he'd already given up his coat and with the sampler, which he'd re-raised in front of himself, Smith couldn't see him well enough to know if he had anything else appropriate. Wilkerson had just gotten himself into the boat and was soaking wet, so nothing of his would be useful as covering. Murphy, across from him, with Davis between them, was watching Smith taking inventory and when Smith looked at him he said, "Whatcha up to, me boyo? Takin' stock of the livestock? Gettin' ready to declare yourself king o' this craft or you'll bash all our brains in with yer hefty there? Tryin' to see who's asleep so you can roll 'em over the side? Have ye got a drink on yer? Any little old little old that don't taste of wather? Hmm?"

   Smith began to think the man might be a little mad, insane, bonkers, off his nut, not playing with a full deck, shy a few eggs from his basket, with an elevator that didn't make it to the top floor, maybe not all the bullets in his gun were firing, looney tunes, cracked, coo-coo. And then Smith began to wonder if it was contagious. Why was his mind making a list of metaphors for insanity? What had he been doing before the madman had begun his crazy (how had he left crazy off his list?) talking? He looked down at Davis who seemed to have fallen asleep sitting up with his arms wrapped around his legs. He needed to find a covering for the poor boy.