Valknut: The Binding Read Online Free

Junkyard’s last question. Then his eyes came
alive and his face twisted in anguish. “Petey’s dead,” he wailed.
“Someone killed him, that’s what happened, and him not ever hurting
anything, not even the flies that landed in his stew. He’d just
fish ’em out and set ’em on a branch so they could dry their
wings.”
    He started bawling like a three-year-old,
gulping air between words. “No, sir,” he snuffled, “Petey never
deserved what happened to him, and neither do I.”
    He shrank down into his baggy suit coat and
resumed rocking, moaning and sobbing in rhythm with the movement.
Junkyard patted his back and made soothing noises.
    Lennie watched them anxiously. She knew there
was violence on the rails, but she had never been this close to it
before. She admired Junkyard’s patience. She wanted to grab Jungle
Jim by the lapels and shake the story out of him, and she didn’t
even know this Tin Can Petey. Perhaps, she thought wryly, it would
be better to let Junkyard handle it.
    It wasn’t until Junkyard promised a package
of Ho-Ho’s that Jungle Jim stopped his rocking and opened his eyes.
He straightened up and blew his nose on a dirty handkerchief. His
voice shook as he began to speak.
    “Me an’ Petey, we caught out of Topeka about
three days ago. About halfway to Ames, our ride went into the hole
for some repairs. We sat there on that side track for maybe five
hours and still no sign of movin’ on. It was getting to be dark, so
I chanced a little look-see. Petey stayed with our stuff. I
couldn’t of been gone more than twenty minutes—honest! But when I
got back, there he was...”
    He tried to go on, working his jaw up and
down, but only strained whimpers came out. Junkyard waited silently
until Jungle Jim continued. “It was terrible. He was all tied up
with some kinda string. Yards and yards of the stuff, like a bug
wrapped up by a spider or somethin’. And he was dead, a knife poked
right up through the roof of his mouth, clean up to the handle, his
eyes starin’ an’ starin’, like they were beggin’ me to take it
out.  Take the knife out, Jimmy , they said, so I
tried. I really, really tried. But the knife was stuck in there
good, an’ there was blood all around, an’ ol’ Petey—he just lay
there, his pack sittin’ right next to him, and mine was still
there, too.”
    Jungle Jim began to wail. “Oh, why’d they do
it? They didn’t take nothin’! Not even the roll of money Petey
taped to his ankle. An’ the train kept sittin’ there, with me in
the dark and ol’ Petey starin’, an’ I couldn’t stand it no more. I
jumped off and hitched my way to Ames. I had to leave him, you
know. Aw, but I shouldn’t of left him. “
    As Junkyard listened, his face grew hard and
his eyes darkened. He started to speak, then swore instead and
slammed his fist on the floor.
    Jungle Jim cried out, covering his head.
Lennie jumped, gasping, and remembered how little she knew about
Junkyard. He shot to his feet and glared down at her as if she had
done something wrong. Without speaking, he turned away and leaned,
hunch-shouldered, against the doorframe, his back a solid wall.
    Jungle Jim settled back into his rhythm of
rocking and sobbing. Lennie looked uncertainly between him and
Junkyard. Someone should comfort Jungle Jim, but it didn’t look
like Junkyard was going to move from the doorway. She sidled closer
to Jungle Jim, hesitating to speak. For ten years, she never found
words to comfort her despairing mother. What could she say to a
total stranger?
    “It’s okay, Jim,” she tried.
    He didn’t respond, and why should he? It was
a moronic thing to say. Frustrated, she touched his shoulder and
tried again.
    “You had to leave him there, Jim. It wasn’t
safe to stay. I’m sure your friend would understand that.”
    “I kn-know.” Jungle Jim hiccupped and wiped
his nose on his sleeve. “It’s just that, where’m I g-gonna
hide?”
    “Don’t worry, you don’t need to