Selections from: THE HANGING OF LITTLE TIMMY TIPTOE

CHAPTER 16: DELIVERING THE JUDGE

Minnie opened the rear doors of the hearse; a dim, overhead light shone on the yellowing silk interior. "Give me a minute," she called loudly, arranging blankets to protect Armpt from the rollers on the floor of the hearse.

Shouting over the wind to the to the two shivering girls, she cried, “Get in!” then, to Wilbur, "Know where you're going?"

He nodded. "How do I get inside the gates?" 

"There must be a key." Minnie searched the bag containing Armpt's clothes.

"I thought it was spring," one of the girls in the front seat said through chattering teeth.

Abruptly, the wind stopped. The sound of rattling branches died away, and the valley became still as an empty church.

“What’s happening?” asked Cissie,” who was suddenly no longer cold.

“I don’t know,” whispered Charlotte.

“Shhh,” said Minnie, and the silence returned.

Four souls stared out across the valley at what was, arguably, the finest view in Appletown.

In pre-brothel days, when the house-on-the-side-of-the-hill served as the Buffington family residence, this view was cherished by all who came to visit. Trees had grown up since then, but without their leaves, sweeping vista of the southern Apple Valley remained undefiled. The demarcation line where the bowl of the Apple Hills gave way to the canopy of stars was breathtaking, so bright and clear it seemed to belong to another universe. Just for a moment, the depth and distance between the stars became palpable, and with jolt of comprehension Wilbur experienced Timmy's fear of falling into the sky. Seized by a rushing sense of vertigo, he looked quickly away. Without down there would be no up, came the thought. Without gravity, he mused, there would be only light. Earth was a world of opposites. Without Armpt, he wondered, would there be a Timmy and a Wilbur?

“I thought you said there was a storm coming,” said Cissie, finally daring to speak.    

“What do you call that?” said Minnie, pointing to the far horizon where a billowing wall of storm clouds was now moving toward them.

“My God,” gasped Charlotte, “It’s huge.”

"Hurry now," said Minnie, grasping Wilbur’s arm through the window. “You don’t have much time.”

Faintly nauseas, Wilbur steadied himself against the rear of the hearse. Through the window he eyed the sleeping judge. How weak and helpless his old enemy seemed.

“Go on, get out of here," Minnie gave him a light push.

"I'll be back soon," he said, climbing in behind the wheel.

"It's the wrong time of year for a storm like that," said Charlotte, as a fresh gust of wind shook the hearse.

"More right for Halloween," muttered Wilbur, turning the key.

As they started down the drive, Cissy, craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the sleeping judge. "This is weird. I've never been in a hearse before."

"You've been in a coffin," said Charlotte, as they pulled out onto Furrow street.

"Yeah, but not tonight, Sandy owed me. Besides they have real dead people in here."

"So did the coffin."

"Get out!" shrilled the girl.

"Five years ago, old Mr. Chester croaked in it."

"No way!"

"Remember that Wilbur? To save time they were going to take him straight to the graveyard, but Minnie wouldn't have it. Something about that coffin she just likes."

"I'm gonna be sick," said Cissy.

Charlotte rolled down the window.

It was two AM when they arrived at the wrought iron gates that guarded Judge Armpt's driveway. A full moon silhouetted the peak of the steep roof where lightning rods thrust up like medieval pikes. Wilbur checked the storm. Above, towering thunderheads, white in the moonlight, raced relentlessly toward them; below, half the valley had disappeared into a wall of blackness swallowing everything in its path.

The house was dark and distinctly eerie.

"He could have left a light on," complained Cissy.

Wilbur spied a metal box and got out to insert the key. The lock was frozen.

"Damn!" he cursed.

Minutes passed while he pushed and blew and tried to warm the lock with his hands.

"We're in for it," whispered Charlotte her eyes glued on the approaching storm.

"Got it!" cried Wilbur, as the key slipped in. He turned the spring-loaded lock as far as it would go and was rewarded with a humming sound. The massive gates swung slowly open.

"Look, flurries!" said Cissy as they pulled up to the garage.

The house smelled musty and dank from years of Armpt's presence. Everything he owned seemed to be black, or gray or brown. The shelves in his study were heavy with law books. Wilbur felt oppressed by their sheer number. A man would be crushed to death if the bookcase fell over, the thought.

"I don't like this place," Cissy said, expressing their shared thoughts.

"Me either," agreed Charlotte.

"Pull back the covers," said Wilbur, when they reached his bedroom.

Cissy gasped. "God, doesn't he ever change his sheets? You could grow radishes in here!"

Snow was falling at a prodigious rate when they returned to the hearse.

"This is insane. It's April!" Charlotte complained.

"Get in the car!" Wilbur ordered. And by the time they did the windshield was completely covered.

 For every load the wiper blades cleared another gathered. No thought was given to closing the gates; they could barely see them. In minutes the road disappeared and Wilbur was able to maintain his sense of direction only by the dark presence of the trees in the center divider.

Slowly, the hearse rolled on, its headlights projecting a living tunnel in the whirling whiteness, then, barely visible through the trees on the other side of the road, a gleam of light.

"Was that a car?" Wilbur asked.

"Where?"

"Going the other way.”

"I don't see anything," said Cissie.”

"Who in their right mind would be out in this kind of weather?" asked Charlotte.

No one spoke after that.

Two men in a pickup truck made their way cautiously along Delicious Avenue through blinding snow toward Apple Hill.

"They seen us!" said one.

"Who cares?!" snapped the other.

"Looked like a hearse."

"You're dreaming."

"It was!" Fear sounded in the man's voice.

The driver's smile carried a mixture of disgust and anticipation. In sepulchral tones he sang:

Did you ev-er know when a hearse goes by
that pret-ty soon you're going to die?
They nail you into a big black box,
and cover you over with dirt and rocks..."

Tire and sidewalk collided, the truck lurched and a loud crash sounded as their payload, a large, wooden cross, bounced heavily.

"Jesus, I never seen so much snow, must be six inches in twenty minutes!"

"It's the goddamn kid that's causing it."

"What if the cops aint asleep?"

"If Jackson says the cops'll be asleep, they'll be asleep."

A cheer of relief went up when the hearse finally skidded into Minnie's driveway. In one remarkable hour so much snow had fallen that when Cissie's passenger side door opened it flattened the top of it.

"Unreal, just unreal," she muttered. Then, clutching at her skirt she jumped out and headed for the porch. Charlotte and Wilbur followed close behind, banging their feet through the drifting white to find the missing steps.

"I thought you were never coming back,' said Minnie when the three were huddled beside the fire. While the girls told Minnie about their snowy adventure, Wilbur sat musing on a three-legged stool letting the heat beat on his back. This was no ordinary snowstorm. It was as though the spirit of the valley was trying to slow things down and cover everything up to remind people that control was an illusion, and to remind him that time was running out. Things were moving faster than he'd expected. With Fundle onto Timmy there was precious little time. Next to Armpt, he was one of the most powerful, and, Wilbur suspected, most dangerous forces in Appletown. Unless Timmy overcame his fear and learned to fly outside in the open air he didn't stand much of a chance.