Tommy Nightmare(2)

Tommy pulled the old man up. Fault lines of pain ripped open along Tommy’s back and across his shoulders, but he didn’t give up. He leaned the old man against the wall, but Pap-pap began sliding back toward the floor.

“Careful!” Tommy pressed his hands against Pap-pap’s cold, bony chest. Pap-pap wasn’t wearing anything under his robe but stained yellow jockey shorts.

“Nuuuuuh…Nuuuuuuh!” Pap-pap’s lips quivered and he swung his head from side to side.

“You got to be quiet!” Tommy said. He looked at the overturned walker on the floor. If he let go of Pap-pap, the old man would fall down again. He should have stood the walker up first. Stupid.

Tommy reached out one foot toward the walker, while pressing Pap-pap against the wall with one hand. Tommy could feel the old man’s heart whamming under the loose, dry skin of his chest.

Tommy hooked his toes under the lowest rung of the walker. He pulled it toward him, and it clattered against the uneven floorboards.

“Nuuuh nuuh nuuh!” Pap-pap began slapping Tommy’s head with both hands. “Nuuuh nuuuh!”

“Quit it! I’m trying to help you!”

“Nuuuuh!” Pap-pap stared at him with bright eyes, thick drool hanging from his chin.

Pap-pap’s sharp fingernails dug into Tommy’s cheek, slashing towards Tommy’s left eye.

“Hey!” Tommy turned his face away. He could feel Pap-pap’s heart jutting against his fingertips with every beat.

“Nuuuuh…uuhhh…” Pap-pap stopped struggling. He stopped shaking, and his heart stopped thumping.

“Pap-pap?” Tommy looked back at the old man. Pap-pap sagged against the wall now, not moving at all. His eyes stared somewhere past Tommy’s shoulder, and his mouth dropped all the way open. The old man peed, making a fresh wet stain on his underwear.

Tommy was pretty sure he was dead.

“Oh, God damn,” Tommy said. “Oh, no.”

At the end of the hall, the door to the master bedroom banged open. Mr. Tanner stormed out, all six foot five of him, wearing only his sweatpants. He carried his belt with him, the one with the giant brass buckle shaped like Oklahoma. Mr. Tanner was in his early fifties, and the copious hair on his head and chest was gray, but he was still as big and strong as one of the bulls over on Mr. Whitson’s ranch.

“What are you kids doing out here?” Mr. Tanner yelled. He snapped the belt taut, a horrifying sound. But his angry expression turned to surprise when he saw Tommy pinning the old man against the wall, with the overturned walker right next to Tommy’s feet. “Pap-pap?”

Tommy gaped at Mr. Tanner, too terrified of the man to say anything.

“You leave him alone!” Mr. Tanner shouted. He sprang forward and slapped Tommy’s head, hard enough to send Tommy stumbling down the hall. A painful ringing sound echoed in Tommy’s ear.

Pap-pap slid down the wall, and Mr. Tanner caught him. He looked into the old man’s eyes, but the old man wasn’t looking back. His eyes were as cold and glassy as marbles.

“Oh, Pap-pap,” Mr. Tanner whispered. He eased his elderly father down to a sitting position on the floor, against the wall. “Oh, Pap-pap.” Mr. Tanner looked like he would cry, and Tommy felt like crying, too.

“What on Earth is all this commotion?” Mrs. Tanner stepped out of the bedroom, her blond hair tangled around her narrow, sour face. She wore her frilly pink night dress that barely covered her hips. She was at least twenty years younger than Mr. Tanner, and much shorter. She gasped when she saw Pap-pap and the walker on the floor.

“He’s dead!” Mr. Tanner wailed. He stood up and pointed at Tommy, who cowered against one wall. “Because of him.”

“I didn’t!” Tommy said.

“Didn’t what?” Mr. Tanner advanced on him and snapped the belt again. “Didn’t what, boy?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Looks to me like you attacked him. Why’d you do that?” Mr. Tanner loomed over Tommy. “You tell me.”

“No!” Tommy said.

“Why’s your face all scratched up?”

“I don’t know!” Tommy wailed.

Mr. Tanner cracked the belt against Tommy’s stomach. Tommy slid down the wall and covered his stomach with his arms, so Mr. Tanner began whipping his shoulders instead.

“Oh, goodness,” Mrs. Tanner whispered. That was all she did when her husband beat the foster kids. She stood there and whispered, “Oh, goodness.”

Tommy curled up on the floor, and Mr. Tanner whipped his back and legs.

“I told you this one had the Devil in him!” Mr. Tanner shouted. “I told you!”