Go figure Luth, a job just like that, and a driver yet!
Mister Hablano was sick of his own Mexicans arguing over who would drive the concrete mixer, so had hired Luther, as the odd man out. Luther thought it was ironic that he was now like all of the white drivers and equipment operators who had lorded it over him when he was a buck grunt with them other black boys. Luther did not lord it over anyone though, particularly not a crew of young Mexicans prone to carry knives, and prone to use them. His was a good job.
Well Luth, you somehow managed to sleep for three and a half months and lose that seat-shining job, and then turn around and get a job in a single day.
“Not bad, if I do say so myself.”
Luther had worked for two weeks now out of his car. He ate out good in the city diners, The City being where most of the big contracts were just now. He had joined a county health spa, so that he could shower and change. He bought clothes a little bit at a time and now had a trunk load that needed washed. Sleeping in the car was not so bad after all.
It was early summer now, getting some heat on her, the old city of his youth was. So he decided to cruise on out to the riverfront to sleep on a country road or side lot with the crickets bringing music to his ears.
He made his way out to the river, just above the park, where he would be able to see the ripples in the dark water thorough the trees as he dosed off. He pulled up under an old oak and kicked the seat back, windows down, relaxing to God’s own symphony. Sleep came easy—then the cramps.
He woke with some terrible cramps and found himself looking up at a bright full moon peeking through the full tree tops. He had a sudden urge to see the moon from the riverbank, with nary a tree to obscure his view. He recalled now, that as a teacher, he had gotten involved with astronomy, particularly the movement of ‘near earth bodies.’
There is something heading towards us. That is it. The government must have found out about my findings and drugged me, ruining my reputation—look at it, how beautiful it rises out of the night!
He felt ill, lightheaded as he staggered from the car to vomit on the ground…
He dreamed that he was Moses guiding his people by the light of the moon—no it was a pillar.
He woke, as if the sun had shined its light in his face all at once, with a start.
His boots were torn and hung from his feet. Mud caked his knees. Blood caked his wrists. His clothes were torn. Something—weeds—fouled his mouth.
Oh my, I’m epileptic or something. The drugs the government people gave me must be giving me seizures, night terrors. I can’t drive like this, not at night—can’t be responsible for a car accident that might get somebody killed…
