Witness At Hawks Nest

Mid-morning on Wednesday Orville met Bullhead at the mess hall. They filled mugs of coffee and sat at an empty table. Orville nodded towards the coffee pot, "The army taught us to put ourselves near the supply source."

Bullhead grinned. "Taught us a lot. And we lived to tell about it." He stared out the window, then turned to Orville. "Last night, out behind the shanty camp up on the mountain," his voice dropped to a near-whisper, "they found another dead nigger. Didn't want to leave him laying in the woods all night - last time that happened some damned animal had the man's fingers for dinner. I had a couple of fellows wrap him in canvas and load him on my truck. I brought him down here." He pointed towards the far wall. "He's stretched out in the storage room." He looked out the window, "Supposed to be hot today. The cook wants him out of there before he stinks up the supplies."

Now - he could say it now, "No, it's over." He could keep his word to Mrs. Jimison.

Bullhead's voice droned like a bee lazily flying from flower to flower, "After all the excitement yesterday, this'll be a quiet day. How about after coffee we go load the body into your car? Then you take a drive over to Summersville. Nice spring day. Good day for a drive." He smiled. "Coming back, you could stop and do a little fishing."

Do a little fishing? Nice spring day - for hauling a body? Now. Say it now. An image of Mrs. Jimison stared at him, expectantly. Words hung in his throat, then pushed through. "I promised Mrs. Jimison..." then the words hit a fork in the road, took a wrong turn, and moved so fast he couldn't stop them. "I promised her I'd take care of a couple of things, move some heavy boxes. Not sure what time she wants me to do it."

Bullhead's thick eyebrows arched. "Orv, tunnel work comes first. We got a dead man out back. Cool in there now, but the temperature's rising."

"I know, I know. But I made a promise. I didn't know we had a dead man. Why don't you load him in the back of your truck and make the trip?"

"Body hauling is your job, not mine. Remember? The company pays you for it." Bullhead's eyes narrowed, "We got a problem, Orv?"

Orville glanced at his half-empty mug of coffee. Say it, he had to say it. He walked to the coffee urn and poured a re-fill. "Want some more?"

"Sure."

Orville refilled their mugs then sat down.

Bullhead laughed. "What kind of look you giving me - is the captain coming?"

"No. Just thinking about all that's happened here. In France, too."

"Yep. Lot of water's passed under the bridge.""The water's got to stop running, Bullhead."

Bullhead's face darkened. "Don't get your drift, Orv."

"I think you know. It's been coming for a while. I already talked to you once about it. Me and the bodies...I can't keep doing it, Bullhead. I'm losing sleep every night. Without your corn liquor I wouldn't sleep at all." He squared his shoulders and looked Bullhead straight in the eye. "Just like in the army. I had to stop hauling bodies there, and I got to stop here, too. That's the long and the short of it. I'm stopping. Now."

Bullhead crossed his legs, inspected the sole of his left brogan and picked a crushed blossom off it. "You been well paid. I'd think that money would offset lots of lost sleep. The big boys upstairs are grateful for what you've done. Don't forget that. Not a week passes but one of them don't mention what they call your extry-curricular work."

"I accepted the job. I took their money. Now the job is taking me."

Bullhead leaned over the table, "I know you lost Bertie. And I'm sorry. That kind of thing does something to a man."

Orville watched for a sign, any sign, of Bullhead's reaction. Would he go along with him? He'd said maybe they'd committed crimes hauling those bodies - would Bullhead arrest him to save himself? He imagined how he looked to Bullhead at that moment, back stiff, shoulders straight, eyes wide - guilty as charged.

"Take a day to think about what you're saying, Orv, just saying, mind you. I've said lots of things I thought I'd do. Then I thought more about them and did only a few. Or none. If you go through with this, well...most likely there'll be...what's the word - repercussions? - yep, that's it. Yessir, I'd figure on repercussions." He leaned back and sipped his coffee. Then, as if a magical breeze blew over him, Bullhead smiled and spoke in a voice so friendly a listener at another table might think the two men had been planning a picnic. "Sure, I'll give that fellow out back a ride to Summersville. You take the day and think about what I said. We can talk tomorrow."

Orville's lips barely moved as he muttered, "Okay."

"And one more thing." Bullhead's smile disappeared and his voice hardened. "As your old army buddy, I'd recommend you keep this to yourself. The big boys upstairs might not be as, well, let's say they might not be as understanding as I am." Bullhead looked around the room, "In fact, they might get downright angry. Do something crazy."

Then as if speaking about anger had infected him, Bullhead stood and pointed his finger at Orville, "Do something crazy!" He jabbed the air and hissed, "You damn well better keep all this to yourself." Bullhead walked briskly to the door and whacked the screen door with the heel of his hand. Men at the tables looked up as the door slapped against its frame.

Orville stood, surprised to find his knees shaky. He gulped the remainder of his coffee. He'd told Bullhead he had to stop, and he would. But something pulled at him - fear? Or maybe Bullhead deserved a little more than his braking to sudden stop. An inner voice asked, "You got the courage to do what you promised?"

He answered himself, "Yes. But Bullhead and me have come a long way together. Over there as well as over here."

Orville drove his Ford around the building and parked beside Bullhead's truck. He walked through the half-open door of the storage room. Wrapped in a sheet of canvas and tightly belted, a body lay among crates of supplies. Bullhead had his hands under the man's shoulders dragging him towards the door

"I'll take his feet. Let's carry him to my Ford."

Bullhead smiled, "Now you're talking, ol' buddy."

On his return from Summersville Orville stopped along the New River and walked to the water's edge. White foam danced around boulders rising above the river's surface.

He sat on a wide flat rock. He could have held his course - stopped being a body courier for Union Carbide. Wouldn't be any easier to end it tomorrow. But he'd stood up to Germans in combat, and he'd stand up to Bullhead. And to the big boys upstairs.

Orville exhaled as if to empty himself. Then he picked up a handful of small stones and began, one by one, to throw them in alternating long, then short, arcs into the river. He studied each stone before he tossed it - its unique shape and color, this one smooth, that one etched with lines. They had identities. Like men.

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