Kangaroo Court
When Taylor Nickles summarized the murderous activities of “Bud” Abbott to his baseball team, he was so calm Hank almost forgot they were talking about a real life murderer in their midst. If it wasn’t for the nightmarish image of “Bud” Abbott pulling off the head of the Babe Mooth costume, and of the anguished squeal that came from his mouth at that time, Hank wondered if he could convince himself everything was normal for the baseball team. Things were far from normal. As soon as Hank remembered the look on “Bud’s” face, he remembered Taylor had also ordered “Bud” Abbott to be locked up in a pen in his barn, and to be guarded by a ballplayer armed with a shotgun and pepper spray.
“So we’re going to call the cops, right?” Alphonso Ruiz said. He was sitting, with the rest of the remaining HooseCows, on a hay bale. They were in a mostly empty barn on Taylor Nickles; property. The rest of the HooseCows sat with him, in a full circle: Danny Marks, Drew Harrold, Jean Gierau, Tommy O’Leary, Rick Newton, Sean Martin, Alan Stone, John Todd, Mickey Danz, and Hank James. Fred Duchess was the guard assigned to “Bud” Abbott and was not in the circle. Seth Speaker, a local baseball fanatic who published a fanzine and had his own baseball-related Internet bulletin board, was also invited. Seth looked nervous, and Hank didn’t think he belonged in this meeting. When he asked Taylor Nickles about Seth’s presence before the meeting, Taylor simply responded: “Somebody has to write down what we do this season.”
Rather than answering Alphonso, Taylor Nickles’ pointed to a garbage bag in the center of the circle of hay bales. In it were all of the made-up teddy bears “Bud” Abbott had made for his victims. Hank assumed it was one bear per girl he had murdered, because he was trying to finish one when Taylor, Hank, and John Todd had found him. Hank had been asked to collect the bears from “Bud’s” baseball host family’s home. When he got back to Taylor’s house, he found Hank and John Todd preparing this meeting.
“Some of those girls got killed when he was on our team,” Taylor said. He sounded smug, like a father who had just sat through a bad parent/teacher conference. “Is that something you’d be proud to let someone else clean up for you?”
“This is murder, Taylor,” Rick Newton said. “This isn’t about some cocky ballplayer refusing to run out an infield hit.”
“It’s all about being a part of this team,” Taylor said.
It grew silent inside the barn. Outside, Hank heard farming implements starting up, and couldn’t believe how loud they sounded. Rick half stood up, like he was considering walking out. Alphonso just leaned back and shook his head. Drew Harrold pointed to the bale underneath Rick and told him to sit down. John Todd looked like he was going to be sick.
“We handle our business in house,” Taylor said. His voice was thick with the shame he was trying to spit into his players’ hearts. “We been playing well, but that’s not all we gotta do to be a real team. If you’re not a part of this team before you’re a part of anything else, you’re not anything worthwhile. Not to me.
“And just give up on your dreams of getting into the bigs,” Taylor continued. “You don’t think they have meetings like this up there all the time, about stuff they didn’t call the cops on because they were man enough to handle it in-house? Do you sons of bitches even know about Ty Cobb or Mickey Mantle or Marty Bergen?”
The baseball players were silent. Hank James wasn’t convinced, but many of the other players were starting to come around to Taylor’s way of thinking. Drew Harrold looked angrier than anyone else, and Hank suspected that was because he didn’t really know about the baseball players Taylor had mentioned. Mickey Danz, who had quit talking to Hank, had no facial expression at all.
“What you going to do? Hang ‘em in the front lawn? Get a firing squad going?” Rick Newton asked.
“Shut. Up.” Drew Harrold told Rick.
“The cops will be looking for him,” Hank said.
“We took care of that. We drove his car down to the Cedar Rapids airport and left in the parking lot, with the Babe Mooth costume in the trunk,” Taylor explained. “It’ll keep them busy. They’ll assume he got away somehow. So we can handle this however we need to.”
Silence. Taylor Nickles’ words truly set in.
“We’re really talking about executing someone,” Alphonso said.
Taylor pointed to the bag filled with teddy bears.
“Is this really someone you don’t want to bring justice to?” Taylor asked.
“I don’t want to murder anyone,” Rick said.
“We can make it more fair than that,” Taylor said. When he smiled, Hank knew Taylor had already decided how this was going to work. He was just setting it up so all the cogs and gears worked the way he wanted them to. The manager looked to his watch, and Hank glanced at his watch as well. It was two minutes to midnight. From the corner of his eye, he could see a small, ghostly face peering in to watch the proceedings. He tried to look directly at the ghostly child, but whenever he did, it disappeared. He did notice Mickey Danz was deliberately avoiding looking in that direction.
“In one minutes, Fred is going to let let “Bud” Abbott free, to run into the cornfield. If you want to wait for the police to handle our problems for us, just let him go,” Taylor said. Everyone tensed on their hay bale. “If you’re not okay with that, you can do the right thing. I borrowed and bought a few more combine harvesters and lined them up outside. It was hard to get nine together this time of year, but I did it. With nine out there at once, combing the fields, someone will hit him and finish off his miserable life pretty quickly. The less of you go out, the larger the chances that he gets away. So I guess it depends on what sounds fair to you. Some of you have daughters, right?”
Outside, a gunshot. Hank assumed it was Fred letting everyone know he had set “Bud” free. Drew Harrold and Tommy O’Leary ran out of the barn first, but everyone else came after them. As Taylor had promised, there were nine combine tractors waiting. Their claw-like tines and whirring metal parts were alive and running. In the tall green corn, Hank could glimpse moving leaves and hear “Bud” panting in fear and exertion. He was never in the best of shape. For a moment, everything stayed like that, until it was clear “Bud” could get away.
Tommy and Drew led the charge again, each getting into a combine nearest where they had last seen “Bud” run into the corn. Then, Fred Duchess and John Todd climbed into the cabs of combines, John Todd still looking far too pale. The rest of the team members stood and kicked at the gravel beneath their feet. Fred Newton was swearing to himself.
“The girl that man just killed wasn’t even out of high school. Do what you’ll be proud of,” Taylor Nickles said.
Danny Marks and Sean Martin got into combines. Hank couldn’t believe they were all going in, or that they all knew how to operate the machinery. Then, he remembered how much Taylor had used work on his farm as part of his coaching. Rick Newton kept shaking his head and cursing out no one in particular, but Alphonso Ruiz was slowly crawling into the cab of one of the giant machines. Hank remembered Alphonso had two daughters.
Drew Harrold was cheering himself on, but other than that and the noise of the machines. Hank could not tell what was going on in the field. He had seen combines operate before, having grown up in the Midwest. He knew the front of the machines was all twisting metal and sharp, cutting implements. He didn’t know if “Bud” was going to bleed out or be crushed and mangled, but he knew “Bud” was about to die badly.
Alan Stone moved to stand next to Hank James, as did Rick Newton. Jean Gierau and Mickey Danz joined them, as did Seth Speaker. They were the ones who refused to murder the murderer. Taylor Nickles watched the big tractors rush across the field, occassionally saying things like, “Do what’s right, boys.”
“I’m sorry,” Mickey Danz said.
“He really got them to do this,” Fred said.
“When do you honestly think you’re going to be able to tell this story?” Alan asked a shaky Seth Speaker. “Who could you ever tell?”
“He said someday people would want to know,” Seth said, shrugging. His eyes were lost in the mayhem of the night. “Someday, I guess.”
“What are you sorry for?” Hank asked Mickey.
“I was the one who drove his car down to Cedar Rapids. I didn’t know I was covering up this,” Mickey said, leaving the question of what he thought he was covering up unanswered. He looked for the ghostly children, but they had finally abandoned him completely. Mickey’s face grew cold and dead as this sunk in.
From the field, there was a loud and wet scream. Moments later, the other combines were coming back to the barn. Hank hoped it was a quick death, and that he would not have to hear “Bud” Abbott screaming ever again. Except in the nightmares that would come for him soon.
