The Evening Hour by A. Carter Sickels Page B

through him. Bite him, he’d thought, the words wild and fevered. The snake had opened its mouth, revealing its set of fangs, but then his grandfather smiled, a victorious, gloating smile, and dropped the snake back in its cage. His grandfather was waiting for the day that Cole would rise to the challenge, the way years ago his youngest daughter, who had never been afraid, lifted a serpent and gave herself to God. “What happened to my little girl?” he would ask, tears in his eyes. “How did she get so poisoned, what was it, Lord, that took her away?”
    Cole looked around at the dirt and dust and torn-up walls. He gave the pulpit a gentle kick, and it clanged against the floor and a part of the top broke off. He flicked his lighter. It would all burn so easily. The sun was setting and shadows loomed across the shell of a building. The wood squeaked, settled. Chills tickled the back of his neck. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He shoved the lighter in his pocket and quickly walked away, his eyes not lifting from the path in front of him.

Chapter 4
    The engine wouldn’t turn over.
    â€œDamn it,” Cole muttered.
    Charlotte rested her motorcycle boots on the dash. “Why do you drive this piece of shit?”
    â€œI like it.”
    â€œI bet you’ve got money to buy a new one.”
    â€œI ain’t gonna spend all my money on a truck.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œYou must think I’m a millionaire.”
    â€œYou got more than I do, that’s for sure.”
    â€œHave you ever thought I don’t want to draw attention to myself? ’Course, you’ve already told just about everybody about what I do.”
    Cole tried again, pumping the gas. What was between them now felt different. Charlotte still talked about leaving, but did not say anything about him going with her. They did not see much of each other anymore. It was the beginning of summer. A lightness filled the air.
    On the fourth try the engine started. He took the curves fast, and Charlotte leaned out the window and yelled. He smiled, watching her. He still liked how wild she was, how unhinged.
    The lot at the Eagle was full, so he parked along the dirt road. From the dark woods, a chorus of tree frogs called out steadily, a familiar hum that for a second made him feel strangely homesick.
    â€œHow about we party?” Charlotte said.
    â€œI just feel like getting drunk.”
    â€œI wish once you’d get high with me.”
    â€œSeems to me like you want me to be somebody else altogether.”
    He gave her twenty milligrams, but she wanted more. He searched the bottles and found a forty, and she crushed the tablet on her compact and leaned her face to it and then opened her eyes wide. The moonlight shone over her; she looked pretty and fearless. She wore a little midriff shirt and hip-hugging jeans; her hair was pushed up and spiked out.
    â€œI can’t go in just yet,” she said, lighting a cigarette.
    They sat on the bed of the pickup. Two women they’d gone to school with walked by and said hey, voices loud with drink. After they were far enough away, Charlotte said, “Nobody ever leaves this place.”
    â€œThat ain’t true.”
    â€œPeople around here don’t know how to think big,” she said. “Me and Terry were talking about it. That’s why he left in the first place. Nobody around here has any dreams.”
    Cole rolled his eyes. “Terry Rose went to Kentucky. And now he works at Walmart. Is that thinking big?”
    â€œHe’s not planning on doing that forever.”
    â€œThen why don’t you take him up there with you to New York.”
    â€œYou don’t think I’ll really go,” she said in a small voice.
    â€œI don’t know what you’ll do.”
    The Eagle was one big room, with the bar at the front, and a small dance floor and pool tables in the back. It was smoky and crowded, and he trailed