Cool Hand Luke (27 page)

The drizzle stopped just before daylight. As dawn began to break the railroad track met and began to run parallel with a State highway. The high tension power lines that ran in sagging arcs above the ditch, the marshy ground and their sense of the geography of the area all told them that this was the Rattlesnake Road.

Sure enough. The tracks and the road led them past the fish camp on the creek and then the railroad began to bear to the right in a long curve which took them over a wooden trestle and then across a drawbridge. Cautiously they crept past the bridgetender's tower and went on behind the ramshackle general store which is in the very apex of the diverging highway and tracks.

It was daylight. They walked past the scattered collection of Negro shacks that formed an unincorporated community which didn't even have a name. Over to the left, rising out of the mists and the early morning shadows they could see the lookout tower of the forest rangers. Around them they could hear cars starting off for work and voices in the cabins and shacks.

And then Luke remembered the church. It was Tuesday. No one would be coming in. They could spend the day undisturbed, sheltered from the weather and shielded from the eyes of the Free World, getting some sleep and resting until nightfall when they would again resume their escape.

Leaving the railroad embankment, they began walking through the high brown grass and weeds covered with frost and dew that wet their shoes and pant legs up to their knees. They dodged among the scattered scrub oaks and came up behind the outhouse, making sure there was no one around and that the church was really empty. They skirted the rusty pump in the backyard, careful not to make any noise by stepping on the trash, the collection of tin cans, paper and bottles. At the rear of the church and to the side, a small addition had been built, crudely constructed out of bare cement blocks, the joints rough and out of line. There was a back door to this addition. And they found the door unlocked. They went inside, looking around at the rows of chairs, the pulpit, the piano. After they investigated a side room that had a few chairs and a mirror, a pile of collection baskets, a big jar of water and
some plastic glasses on top of a table, they slowly let out their breath. Dragline went over to flop down on a chair, Luke smiling and pouring himself some water from the jar.

Well, Fat Boy. So far, so good, I reckon.

Dragline sprawled out, his legs straight with the backs of his heels on the floor. Folding his arms over his belly, he let out a moan.

Damn it. Wish ah had me some beans. Grits. Corn bread. Anything ah could chew up and swallow. Ah sure did think we were gonna be in Tampa by this time. Ridin‘ in on a fast freight. In real style.

What do you mean,
chew,
Drag? Without no teeth, about the best you could ever do is
gum.

Aw right. Chew. Gum. Tongue. Lick. Swallow in one whole piece, alive and kickin‘. Ah don't care. Ah'm
hongry.
Hey. What are you doin'?

Just lookin‘ around.

Well cut it out and let's git some rest. You shouldn't be prowlin‘ around nobody's church. Even if it is a nigger church. After all. Ah mean, we can rest up here and hide out a while. Nobody'd care about that. But we ain't got no call to be snoopin'.

I'm jest lookin‘. I ain't hurtin' nothin‘.

Today in the church yard as Dragline was telling the story, I tamped the ashes and the tobacco of my pipe down into the bowl with my finger. Then I took a deep drag, slowly letting the smoke out between my lips. I stared at the old church, at the wall and the windows, trying
to visualize what it looked like inside, trying to see what Cool Hand Luke had seen that morning as he quietly walked among the chairs and along the walls, occasionally taking a careful peek outside from around the edge of the window.

But the way Dragline told it was like this:

He kept right on. No matter whut ah said didn't make no never mind to him. He keeps grinnin‘ to hisself and keeps wanderin' around in there. Oh, man. He's gotta git into everythin‘. He's pickin' up prayer books. He picks up one of these here fans layin‘ on a chair. They're made outta cardboard. Some funeral parlor outfit hands 'em out. Some picture of a saint or a apostle or somethin‘ on one side and the name of the funeral parlor is printed on the other side. So this fan belongs to some nigger what lives around here. But he's got his name printed on the handle in pencil. But ole Luke, he ain't satisfied. Oh, hell no. He's gotta
read
this here name. Like maybe he might know the guy.

Then he goes up and down the chairs. You know the kind they got. Yuh cain't see ‘em from here but hell, they must have seventy or eighty. Made outta wicker and stuff. But ah'll give them ole niggers credit for one thing though. Every damn one of them chairs has got a white cloth over the back. And ah mean they is
clean.
Like some mammy must wash them things ever' week. Throw ‘em in a black iron kettle in the backyard and boil the piss out of'em.

Anyhow. Luke's makin‘ like he's
countin'
these
chairs. Then he looks at this one up front what's got arm rests. That there's for the preacher. And then behind that is four, five more. These here is for the singin‘ choir. That's probably them in there right now. Singin' and moanin‘ away like heaven jes won't wait.

So ole Cool Hand, he goes over to this beat up ole pianer and he plays with these phony wax flowers. And there's a glass candlestick from some dime store. But Luke finds some number ten still stamped on it nobody never washed off. Big deal. So it costs a dime? But Luke figgers that's really somethin‘. Must have. Way he keeps lookin' at it. Then he plays with the pianer keys. Course half the ivory is gone off'n it. And underneath is ole wood and somebody wrote numbers on it. Tryin‘ to do it by the numbers, ah reckon.

And over the front door is this picture of Lord Jesus somebody got off'n a calendar. And an electric clock on the wall that cain't work. And the paint is peelin‘ off'n the ceilin'. Cobwebs and fly shit all around. Oh. And the fuckin‘ floor is painted blue. Yeah. Ah remember that floor. Real dark blue.

Up front they got a stand somebody nailed together. That thing holds up this big Bible. Lick-lick. Lickturn or somethin‘. Anyhow. There's a big tablecloth over it and then this here big ole Bible.

But ah'm lookin‘ over this big stove out in the middle of the room. Ah'm layin' down on the floor, tryin‘ to git me some rest. But ah'm rolled over and ah'm lookin' at this thing thinkin‘ o' how warm ah could be. Regular ole country
stove. Big iron thing and there's a pile of kindlin‘ there too and ole newspapers. But naw. Luke don't wont to take no chances on smoke. But all of a sudden ah hears him start talkin'. At first ah figgers he's talkin‘ to hisself but then he says—

“Hey, Mister Lord!”

Damn. Ah spins around and there he is, standin‘ up there like a preacher, bof' arms leanin‘ out on bof' sides of the Bible. You know how preachers always stand there. And real deep and loud, like he's givin‘ the whole fuckin' world a hell-fire sermon, this crazy Luke starts
preachin‘.
But he's preachin' straight to
God
though. He looks straight up at the ceilin‘ over his haid and he says—

“Hey up there, Mister Lord! How you doin‘ up there?”

Jes like that. How you doin‘? Like he's the old man what lives next door maybe. Well, man, ah'm tellin' yuh. Ah comes straight off'n that floor like a Jack-in-the-box jes a-lookin‘ at that crazy son of a bitch. Hell, ah ain't cold no more and ah ain't hongry neither. Ah'm jest scared that's all. So ah says—

“Hey Luke! What are you
do
in‘?”

But he don't pay me no mind. He jest looks up at the ceilin‘ and goes on prayin' or rantin‘ or whatever it was he was doin'.

“Listen here, Lord. Hear me out a minute. I got a bone to pick with you, Old Man.” And then ah says—

“Luke!
Luke!
You're takin‘ the Lord's name in
vain!
Ah' mean. That there's a mortal
sin.
Man. That's
blasphemy!”

“Oh, yeah? Well, Drag. Ah'm a pretty evil feller already. You know that. Hell, everybody knows that. Ah mean ah done killed people and stole real money and everything.” And ah says—

“Aw, come on Luke. Don't do that. Dummy up and lay down here awhile. Let's rest up some. Come on now.”

Cool Hand keeps on talkin‘. Ain't nothin' gonna shut him up. And he's shakin‘ his fists in the air and his face is all screwed up like he's hurtin'. Hurtin‘ real bad. And he says—

“Ah mean, Lord. Ah'm a pore, dumb son of a bitch and all like that. But you gotta admit. You sure do make it mighty hard for a man to keep up. How come you're all the time fixin‘ it up so that ah cain't never win out? Anything ah do, no matter how ah do it, it's all wrong? So that most of the time ah don't even know mahself what's wrong and what ain't?”

Well, by this time
ah
don't even know what
ah'm
doin‘ no more. Ah'm crawlin' across the floor over to Luke. Ah'm practically beggin‘ him to shut up. It was jest beginnin' to git daylight. The sky was all red and there was thick clouds out yonder. And Luke, he's arguin‘ and cussin' and mad all at once. Ah tries to humor ‘im. Like you gotta do some nut. Ah talks nice and soft to 'im. Real coaxin‘ like. Ah says—

“Please Luke. Come on. Ah don't like this kind of
talk. And God don't neither. It's blasphemy! Anybody knows better than that. You're gonna bring down the wrath of God on yoreself. On you and me both.” But Luke says—

“The
wrath
of God? Ah thought God was love, Dragline? You know. Love thy fellow man and all that.”

By this time ah'm prayin‘. Yeah. Ah mean it. Ah'm down on the floor on mah knees. Now ah ain't scared o' nothin‘. Nothin' on this earth. Ah ain't a-scared o‘ man, beast nor the devil. But fuckin' around with God. Now, that's different. So ah'm down on the floor, mah hands put together like they taught me in Sunday school. And Luke, he's still preachin‘. And ah'm prayin'. Ah says—

“Don't listen to him, Lawd! He's crazy! He's outta his pore, misbegotten mind! They done beat on his haid too much, God. He don't know what he's sayin‘. But don't punish him. Please. Have pity on us pore convicts. We know we been bad. Real bad. But have mercy anyway. O.K.? Is it a deal, Lawd?” And Luke, he says—

“Yeah Lord! Have mercy! Have pity! Cause ah'm a bad one aw right. But then again maybe you
had
better punish me. But good. Cause ah really need it. Ah mean ah done
stole!
Money! Right out of the mouths of pore, hongry municipal governments. And worse yet—ah done killed people. Well, maybe not exactly
people.
But there was fourteen of ‘em. Before ah was even a man. Before ah could even vote. In cold blood. Men ah didn't even know. And one of 'em even had a Bible in his pocket. What did you tell
him
about love, God? Or don't you really speak
that heathen tongue o‘ his'n after all? And what about all them starvin' heathen kids and women folk? And them ah wasn't allowed to feed or even talk to cause they was enemies? And how come after ah had to do all this burnin‘ and killin' they made
me
out somethin‘ special? Music, speeches, flags, medals? Hell, ah was Good Guy Number One. And how come everywhere ah went ah could always see some man of the cloth hangin' around? Smilin‘ and grinnin' and salutin‘? Wearin' war ribbons and officer's marks and all like that there?”

Man. It was too much fer me. Ah couldn't even look no more. Ah jes covered up mah face and ah says—

“Oh, please. Don't lissen to him, Lawd. You cain't hold his sins against a crazy man. Can you Lawd? Ah mean. That ain't fair. He's nuts! His haid is all banged up and scarred. He's had hisself a pretty tough time. But it ain't his fault. Is it? Is it Lawd?”

But right then. Right in the middle of this threeway argument we're havin‘. Comin' from right outta nowhere, ah hears this voice callin ‘out—

“Luke! Dragline! Come on out of there!”

Course, ah knew who it was. Boss Godfrey. And ah says to mahself, “Oh, damn, damn. Lawd he‘p us. Boss
Godfrey's
out there.” And then he yells out again—

“Luke! Come on out! This is the end of the line!

Right away ah goes scootin‘ over to a winder on mah hands and knees and real careful like, ah looks outside. Then ah tears ass over to the other side and looks out. After that ah jes fell flat. Ah jes couldn't look. Ah buries
mah haid in mah arms like a gawd damn ostrich does and ah says to Luke—

“Oh damn it, Luke. We're surrounded. They done caught up with us already.
Already!
They's a thousand cops out there. Man, they're crawlin ‘around behind the bushes and the trees thick as red bugs. And there ain't no way of gittin' outta here.”

But Luke, he didn't even move. He jes stood there like he was, leanin‘ on this table thing, one hand on each side of this Bible. He keeps lookin' up at the ceilin‘. But he ain't mad no more. All of a sudden his lips is all puckered up. It looked like it was jes about all he could do to keep from bustin' out loud and laughin‘ his ass off.

But not me. Ah knew the fix we was in. Ah mean, ah
knew.
And ah tried to tell ‘im. Ah
tried.
Ah says to him—

“They got all kinds of Law out there, Luke! The Walkin‘ Boss. The Captain. Shotgun guards. The Dog Boy. The Sheriff. The Highway Patrol. Oh, damn, damn. What are we gonna do? What can we do?”

But he jest grins. Ah'm tellin‘ yuh. He jes grins up at the ceilin' and he says—