Henry's Hammer (1)
Bradley Kabbash

 

HENRYS HAMMER

The flames licked up the side of John’s house. In seconds the fire reached his bedroom window on the second floor. There the flames kissed the windowpane sending sharp shards flying into the room and across the air striking his bedroom door, which exploded inward. Now having entry the flames from the hallway gripped the doorsill pulling itself into the interior of his bedroom. Across the room the fire flowed gleefully over the windowsill onto the top of John’s bureau. There it hugged the top wrapping itself around several baseball trophies, melting them instantly. The blaze from the doorway raced across the floor, blistering the painted moldings, as it rolled itself over to the foot of the bed where it shook hands with its brother flame and together they crept up and over the blankets. In one self propelled wave the wall of flames curled until reaching the head of a sleeping John. Smiling the width of his pillow, the fire splashed down unto John’s head, stripping his face of skin like a just peeled tomato. The laughing flames swallowed John’s screams as he awoke in a sweat. John sat upright frantically searching the room for the flames, as he always did when he awoke from his nightmare. He sucked in one long breath trying to steady his racing heart, just as when he hit the ball for Virginia Hammer High School. Slowly he let the air out past his blistered lips. He took another breath and looked around the new room. He hated the room as much as he hated life. Slowly he swung his scared legs out of bed and walked painfully downstairs to the kitchen. His grandmother was waiting; sitting at the table with a cup of tea for her self and a cold can of coke for him. He tried to smile as he sat down, but his lips were cracked with pain.
     “Figured you’d be wanting that.” She smiled showing her yellowed teeth, as she passed the cold can of coke to him.
     “Thanks grandma.” John gulped down the can in one long swig.
     “Them dreams make you thirsty huh?” Her eyes reminded John of two lanterns shedding light in the dark. He looked at her trying to frame the words.
     “Yep.” That was all he could manage to explain the agony of pain and injustice he felt raging through his body. His grandmother gently placed a leathered hand on his.
     “You got to find something to take that anger away John.” John was surprised.
     “What makes you say that Grandma?” She squinted her eyes and pursed her lips.
     “Got to be angry. Got to be raging deep inside. Boy like you, star pitcher for Virginia Hammer High and a full scholarship to Virginia State. Your whole life ahead of you I’d be screaming inside if that was taken from me.” John felt a tear creeping out of the corner of his eye. He lowered his head as his Grandma squeezed his hand gently.
     “But boy that’s not the worst of it. That’s not the tragedy. Ut-huh, no.” She shook her head from side to side. “The tragedy here is that your letting this thing beat you. That’s the thing. Uh-huh.” She licked her weathered lips and leaned back into her chair. John looked up letting loose a lungful of air that could fill the sails of an old Nantucket whaler.
     “Grandma look at me. Look at these hands. Look at my face. I’ve seen plastic toys melted in a fireplace that look better.” He hit his hands on the table not caring about the pain.
     “Boy, you think what you look like matters. Look at your Grandmas weathered old skin. See these hands, they were once smooth as peach skins. What matters is inside. You need to work not on that rehabillystation thing. I keep telling you to go walk these West Virginia woods. Your bloods tied to these parts more than you think. You just go long those tracks by the bend, you’ll find you some peace and answers I bet.” John just looked at his Grandma and sighed. He got up from the chair and kissed his Grandma’s wrinkled forehead before shuffling back to his bedroom. He waited until sunrise, slipped on some clothes and left the house walking toward the woods in the chilly air. Within minutes he found the familiar trail and walked deep into the woods until he came to the old railroad track. There he joined its rusting rails and split wood slats walking along not thinking of most anything. He used to love playing along these tracks in the woods as a boy, hearing the stories told by his grandmother. She could make you believe almost anything then. He would swear he heard the old train whistle and the clambering of men and machine that made these tracks. John bent down and touched the cold rusted rail of the forgotten track. He could swear he could feel the vibrations of hammers carried through its core. John moved some of the autumns colored leaves to the side, kneeling so low that his ear touched the rail where his hand had been. He took in a lungful of crisp air and held his breath listening. He closed his eyes and concentrated, blocking out all the sounds of the forest. There he heard it just like when he was a kid. John pushed his cheek into the railing squishing his ravaged ear harder into the rail. He let out his breath slowly. There…there it was again just like his grandma used to say. John didn’t move a muscle, straining his body to freeze so that he could hear those sounds again. After a moment John got up and smiled, cracking some of his taut skin on his lips. “Yep” he thought, “Just like Grandma always said. “If you listened hard enough you could here the voices of your past.” And for John that meant the clanging of hammers and the cheers of men.
After a while of wandering, of kicking through leaves, and balancing on the railroad tracks, John decided to go back to his Grandmas home. It would be getting dark in an hour and she would have his supper ready of mash gravy potatoes, overcooked steak, and a can of cold coke. He walked a bit faster alongside the tracks until he came to a bend where the rail split. John stopped liked he always did. He strained his eyes looking in the direction of the split, following the tracks into the woods until they disappeared. He heard his Grandma whispering to him from behind that now was the time. But when John turned his head she wasn’t there. He twisted his head again squinting his eyes, straining to see in the distance into the woods. “Heck why not.” And with that John, placing one scuffed up boot in front of the other started taking a trail he never had before.
After ten minutes the woods began to close in on the railroad tracks from all sides. Another fifteen and he began to slowly move tree branches to the side all the while hearing the whispers of his Grandma in his head urging him to go. He stopped, bent down and touched the cold glistening rail. This one was smoother, shinier, as if it was still in use. He bent down on one knee and examined the wooden ties. They too looked new, as if they were laid only days before. John shook his head and got up chuckling to himself. “Fool of a boy” his grandma would say to him if she saw him now, thinking what he was thinking.
     “No I wouldn’t. It’s right for you to be here. Just a bit further now.”
John jumped back a bit and swung around convinced that his Grandma would be here besides him her voice was that clear. Instead all he saw were the bending of branches and heard the whispers of wind. John took off his cap and ran a rough and scared hand over his scalp, before putting his hat back on. It’s getting late he thought, the lights giving out to the night soon. You can hear and see things in the woods now that play tricks on your eyes and ears.
     “Go on now just a bit further.”
John would have jumped out of his skin if it wasn’t so taught and tight against his burned body. He spoke out loud trying to calm his nerves a bit.
     “Come on now. I know there’s no one there. It’s just my mind playing tricks on me.”
     “THEN WHY ARE YOU TALKING OUT LOUD TO NOBODY!” Chuckled a deep booming voice from somewhere up ahead. John didn’t wait to answer. He was to busy trying to catch his heart that had burst from his body and was flying back down the tracks from where he started, back to his grandmas house.
When he got home it was dark and John was in a sweat. His Grandma was seated in the lighted and warm kitchen, John’s meal ready and steaming by her side at an empty seat. John walked slowly to the table and sat down in front of his plate. He didn’t bother to take his coat off or wash his hands or say his prayers over the meal. Instead he just sat there thankful at having arrived home safely. His Grandma just stared with a smile.
     “You’ve got something to tell me John?” She raised her voice when she said his name as if she knew something. John looked up at his Grandma, pursed his lips, to prevent any words from escaping his throat and shook his head sideways no. His Grandma paused a moment before clasping her hands together and blessing the food. John didn’t want to look at his grandma for he was certain she knew. How he didn’t know but she knew. He felt like he was twelve again, sitting there, hiding a secret. So all John could think of doing was shoveling the mountain of thick gravy potatoes into his mouth, spoonful after spoonful. His Grandma finally broke the silence.
     “Heard him didn’t you.”
John sucked in a gasp chocking a bit on the mashed potatoes. He lifted his face and eyed his Grandma slowly. Still he didn’t say a word.
     “Don’t matter you don’t need to speak. I know you heard him. Big booming voice too I bet. Laughs as warmly as church bells too…ah hum.”
John couldn’t believe what he was hearing; although all day he had been hearing strange things this was the strangest. She really knew. He was about to say something when his Grandma pushed the squeaky chair out from under the table, got up and placed her plate and glass in the sink. Without turning around she shuffled over to the steps and started to take them up one at a time.
     “Now you just finish your meal and don’t forget to wash them dishes either.” And with that she was gone into her room, the door shut.
John just stared at his plate. How could he eat? How could he do the dishes or sleep. How could his Grandma just leave him like that! John didn’t know what to do or think. He took the coke can in front of him, popped the can with a pssft sound and gulped the entire contents of the can. “Ah to heck with this.” John pushed his chair out and walked over to the stairs taking them two at a time until he stood just in front of his grandma’s door. He clenched his fist and brought it up to tap when he heard his Grandma’s muffled voice from the other side.
     “Don’t you be knocking on my door at this time at night. You go right back down those steps and finish that meal I slaved over for you. Tomorrow you’ll find breakfast ready when you wake. I’m going to see aunt Martha before you get up.”
John started to ask a question but was cut short.
     “You go walk those woods same as before. You’ll find those answers in your head. I promise.” Her last words were soft and strong. They were reassuring to John’s blistered ears. He knew he couldn’t say anything so he turned and started to go back down the creaky steps to the kitchen.
     “And don’t you forget to do them dishes neither.”

That night John couldn’t sleep. Who could? So by the time the sun had peeked its head over the treetops John was out the door swiftly walking in the chilly morning air towards the split in the railroad tracks. He was at the bend and down the corridor of trees in half the time it would have normally taken slowing down as he approached the spot where he last was. Cautiously he took the last twenty steps before he stopped, looked around to make certain he was alone, and waited. After an hour the dew from the tree leaves had evaporated from the morning sunshine and so too had Johns patients. He wet his lips with his tongue and cleared his throat before speaking at first a little to softly. He thought it was the polite thing to do, especially if he was a ghost.
     “Ah…Ok…I’m here.”
No one replied. John spoke up a bit louder.
     “Ok…I came back today like my Grandma said…you know to find the answers.”
The only reply came from the bristling of the trees. John took off his baseball cap and rubbed his head. Now what am I supposed to do he thought.
     “Don’t know. What do you think?” Came the booming reply. John jumped and twisted around like a spinning top. Like before there was no one there.
     “Ahh…come on will ya!” That’s not fair.”
The voice boomed back at John faster this time.
     “Well that’s the point now isn’t it.”
John was thouroughly confused. He eased down on the thick wooden ties between the tracks and sat down taking a can of coke from his jacket. With a familiar pssft he opened the can and gulped it, this time he burped out noisily.
The voice laughed out loudly.
     “Got some mighty strong lungs there. Think you snapped a tree branch with that belch.”
John laughed too. He sighed before starting to talk out loud again in no particular direction.
     “Yep that’s what my dad used to say too. Strong lungs, strong muscles, strong mind.” John paused. “Or I used to be.”
     “Seems to me your lungs are pretty strong still, probably your stomach too.” The voice laughed. John smiled. He couldn’t help it. That voices laugh made you feel warm and glad inside. John sat there for a while trying to think what would be a good question, now that he seemed to be talking to whatever or whoever it was. John stood up and took off his hat. He thought that would be the polite thing to do when introducing ones self, even to a ghost.
     “My names John…John Henry. What’s your name Mr…”
John wanted to finish off the sentence with Mr. Ghost but wasn’t certain that was a good idea.
     “Same as yours son. Names John Henry too.”
John knew instantly he was having one of those breakdowns he read about. Who was to blame him? He was the baseball star of the state with a full scholarship. Then a freak fire burned his home down killing everyone but him inside. People everywhere said it was a miracle. The miracle is that he still wanted to live. Nobody wanted to be around a guy that was a walking ember, a reminder of the freakish looks of things. That’s why he stayed at his Grandmas home so he could keep away from everyone. That and she was his only family left. But now after all that he was hearing voices. Big booming voices at that. Like his Grandma said like the sound of church bells loud and warm and big. And to top it off the Voice even had his name. Yep, a breakdown for sure. John put on his baseball cap and turned to leave.
     “Well I’ll be going…”
The voice didn’t give him a chance.
     “What’s it taste like?”
John turned back around.
     “What does what taste like?”
     “That drink you had. Must have been good to belch so loud.”
John reached into his pocket and pulled out the second and last can of coke he had and held it up in the air not knowing if the voice could see it or not.
     “It’s called Coke and its got carbonation in it. That’s what makes you burp.” John pulled the tab with the pssft sound and gulped down the entire contents for emphasis. In less than a minute he burped so loudly that the leaves on a tree next to him rustled.
     “Well I’ll be. Carbeenation. Sounds like fun. In my day we had sodaee pop but not with that carbeenation in it.” The Voice laughed warmly.
     “IN your day? When was that.” For the moment John forgot that he was having a breakdown and that he was leaving. The Voice sighed deeply and to Johns surprise he felt that sigh across his face and watched it as it blew gently through the leaves.
     “Think you have time to hear a big story?”
John didn’t need to answer or even be asked. He saw a fallen down tree trunk, walked over to it and sat down ready to listen. The Voice wasted no time beginning.
     “How’d you think you got your name John Henry?”
John almost regretted that question from the voice. He had teased about it since he could remember, probably before that. Early on like in first or second grade kids teased him about it. In third or fourth grade he was so fed up about the jokes he wanted to change his name but his parents were too proud of it. By eighth grade he was so traumatized that the only way he could deal with it was just to be good at one thing…Baseball. And John was better at it than anyone else he new. Somehow for some reason every time he picked up a bat it sung to him. Every time he stepped up to the plate and dug his foot into the dirt, shifting his weight, he knew…knew he would smack that ball and smack it hard. Pitchers were afraid of him. Schools tried to have him thrown off the team cause he was so good. Yep John Henry didn’t care about the comments behind his back about how big and dumb he was supposed to be. Nope he didn’t care about the fun they made of his name. He just cared about baseball. And when he entered Hammer High his ability exploded like the schools name. Every time he stepped up to that plate he hammered the ball out of the park, every…single…time. But all that was taken away from him with the fire. Now he was just John, plain old burnt up John. A single tear escaped Johns eye.
     “I don’t think you told how you got my name.”
John snapped out of his thoughts, wiped his tear with a scared wrist, cleared his throat, and said it was because of some dumb legend.
     “Some dumb legend huh?”
John looked up. This was the first time he had heard the Voice being sarcastic.
     “You think being a legend is dumb now do you son?”
     “Well I…No not dumb just being named after one is a bit tough.”
The Voice boomed out such a titanic laugh that this time the wind caused trees to bend.
     “Well I suppose it does. But carrying the name of a legend well that’s something few folks have the honor of, legend or not and especially when it’s my name.” John looked up from the ground in the direction of the Voice.
     “What you mean?”
     “I mean you’re my great grandson is what I’m saying.”
John suddenly remembered he was having a breakdown again. He had to be cause that was the only way you could explain what was going on. John Henry was talking to John Henry his great Granddad.
     “I suppose your going to tell me next that you built this railroad and that tunnel? Right? Then next your going to tell me you did it with only two hammers and your hands? Right?” The Voice interrupted.
     “I did have help. Take many a man to lay a rail son. Takes a friend you trust to hold that spike just so. Takes many a men to move a rail and a tie too. Nope I didn’t do it alone there were many more.”
John sat there mesmerized. After all the years of being made fun of, after all the years of being the end of a joke, after all the teasing and name calling it was all actually true. He was the great grandson of a legend. But that didn’t make sense either. John looked up trying to focus on a spot in the air in front of him.
     “Well why didn’t my parents tell me then?”
     “They didn’t know is all, that’s why I’m a legend. Sometimes son you’re not to bright.” The Voice laughed again.
     “So you mean all that stuff I heard about you beating a machine was true? How you won that competition then just died right there after you won?” The Voice answered with one word.
     “Yep!”
     “How could you do that? I mean you won! You shouldn’t have died. You beat the machine! You were a champion!” John got up and was angry. He knew what it was to be a champion. He was one once. How could he up and…
     “Quit?” The Voice boomed back completing his thought. “You know something about that don’t you.”
John took a step forward. He was furious. That wasn’t fair. Fire destroyed his life. He didn’t want to look like this it was forced on him. He didn’t want to stop playing baseball, it hurt to play and besides he was a freak now.
     “You don’t think it hurt to lay all those ties and rails down. You don’t think I wanted to just stop and quit and stop the pain? I must have thought about it a hundred hundred times. But every time I heard those men cheer, every time I heard the snort of that machine telling me it was better I dug deep because I was John Henry and I wasn’t going to let anyone down, least of all myself.”
     “But you died, you gave up, you let everyone down.”
The Voice paused a bit before talking again.
     “Even legends have limits son. Your right I won and died. But you are wrong about letting everyone down. No sir, I proved that a man with heart and the desire can beat the impossible every time. I left a legacy to follow for folks to talk about and point and say “Yep John Henry did it.” Now how is that letting everyone down?”
John thought a minute about what John Henry was saying. It was true he beat the machines and that folks still talk about him in these parts as the example to follow. Heck even his High School immortalized him. HAMMER HIGH, can’t get much more guiding than that. But then again he left people behind him to after he died.”
     “You’re right you know. Was one of the reasons I came back.”

 

 

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Copyright © 1999 Bradley Kabbash
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"