Week Thirteen Journal One

Here is the photo I used for this exercise: http://tomchambersphoto.com/galleries/02/06.php

The water was a mix of brown and red, like a poorly cleaned mall toilet. Of course, this water was this color because of the sand and rocks it lay on top of. We were slowly approaching the house, the only place to get moonshine in these parts anymore, since the state passed a law stating no alcohol content higher than fifty percent. It forced normal people like me into risky situations, but it was worth it, moonshine has been an integral part of life in this area for the past hundred or so years. Sparks, my black labrador jumped up from his slumber on the bottom of my rusty old fishing boat and started barking. He knew we had arrived before I even killed the motor.

I pulled the boat close to the house and tied on. I had no idea how the house had even been built in the middle of lake, but my best guess was that it was built before the plain was flooded for the new dam. Johnboy, the main moonshiner was expecting my arrival, I had talked to him the previous day, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found. They usually kept a lookout just incase the police finally bought a boat. I jumped off the boat, through one of the old front window frames on the front of the house, yelling for Johnboy. I noticed a couple cases of moonshine in the corner, so they obviously hadn’t been raided. Walking across the main room towards the stairs, I got an uneasy feeling. Johnboy’s crew usually ran a really tight operation, making sure no one came by who wasn’t supposed to, cops or otherwise.

“Johnny boy! Where are you at?” I shouted, praying for a response.

Nothing.

I moved up the stairs slowly, holding my hand on my gun, a small revolver, but definitely better than nothing in these types of situations. At the top of the stairs were a few smashed jars, smelling like moonshine. I pushed open the door to the main room, and saw Old Bill, one of Johnboy’s men, lying in a large pool of blood, already showing signs of rigor mortis. Whoever was here left some time ago, I thought to myself.

Than my thoughts were disrupted. Disrupted by a gun shot. I could hear the bullet whizzing towards my location. Sparks started barking. Shit! I completely forgot about Sparks. My hand still on the revolver, I jumped up and bolted down the stairs, taking them three at a time. Sparks was still barking, that was a good sign.

I reached the front window that I entered through and jumped directly into my boat, untying it at breakneck speed. I looked at Sparks, who was still barking. No blood, thank god. Starting the motor, I turned my head to what the dog was barking at, directly behind my boat. It was a man, sitting near the top of what you would call the shore, firing a rifle towards us. The red shirt and hat he was wearing was unmistakable, I would have recognized Johnboy from a mile away. He hadn’t been shooting at us to harm us; he was just trying to get our attention. It still didn’t drift my thoughts from the body upstairs, but I turned the boat towards him and hit the throttle. I just wanted some moonshine.