The children waited patiently for the man to return from his visit, to drive past them. The children had gathered as many maypops as they could and had gone about their routines as busy as ants at a picnic. When they finished, they sat on the mounds of the rows with their knees propped high just out of view of the road. Later they would squat, facing the road so they could hear the car coming.
They had taken their places, and the stage was set. Quickly, silence fell over the entire cornfield except for a scant wind causing the dampened blades on the cornstalks to move lightly.
The children were whisperers now. Shushed on command, were a few snickers emitting from beneath the quietness of the cornstalks towering above their heads. For everything to go as planned, the gang had to hear the car ahead of time to give them enough time to execute their premeditated actions deemed necessary for what must be done. They would remain hidden amidst the cornstalks until McIntye was close enough for them to rush in front of the car, to force him to stop. They would oblige him with a windshield of ammo.
The time seemed like eternity before McIntye would come from his visit and was by them, but the moment finally arrived. The children heard the moaning sound of the cars engine drawing closer and closer. They spotted the car. The heat was on. They were overly anxious now. The sound of the engine was their cue and as the sound grew louder; the ambush was about to begin.
Not regarding it as a cowardly act on her part, Helen remained hidden, but was close enough for everything to be in full view. She was all eyes. Sensing that there was not going to be a point of retreat, to her, it felt as though the world was about to end.
At that moment, Helen wished that she could have derailed the plan or stopped them. Her instinct had led her to believe that perhaps everything that was about to happen was not all fun and games, but too young to sort out in her mind what it could be. In her own way of thinking, she hoped for the best with the thought the act did not appear to be the right thing to do.
How it was that Helen never really wanted to be a part of her siblings mischievous ploys, she could not say. She often sensed that her siblings never really wanted her to be. Her input for their devilish schemes had not appealed or even mattered to them, and Helen knew why. Her watered-down versions of their wild schemes suggestive of a little fairness never fancied their interests. Had it been Helens decision in the case this time, what was about to happen would not be forthcoming.
In her memory, the siblings had looked like little dirty wild, biscuit-faced aliens slipping and sliding, running from that muddy cornfield, yelling and screaming Lord knows what until they stood right in the front of that black humpback car!
The rain did not matter. The siblings appeared to have liked the idea that it was raining and that maybe, it would help them in their vicissitude of getting revenge. Perhaps the rain could help disguise them in attacking the man from his blind side, keeping him from seeing when suddenly they would run in his direction. In Helens memory, the scene was not pretty, a murky, and dingy-looking one.
Although Helen could not exactly see the driver from where she stood amidst the tall cornstalks, she sensed the moment when the man must have sighted the others. Through the tall cracks, she saw as the car swerved and swerved (fishtailed), and slid on that slick, red dirt road in the steady drizzle; the driver trying desperately to get the car under control.
Later, looking straight up the row from where she now stood, Helen could see the car as it finally came to a halt just before running over the children right at the downward slope of the hill. Poor man, he nearly had a heart attack! The thought they could have been run flat slam over as their dog never crossed their minds.
Before the man could regain his composure from the near fatal catastrophe, Pick was now standing directly in front of the car! Eyeball to eyeball, Helen heard and watched the brave warrior yell to the driver who was stiff as a board, hugging the steering wheel, that he had killed their dog and We are going to git ya fow it!
The maypops flew! Whoosh! Baam! Pow! The mans car wipers kept slapping slowly, smearing mush, as he sat close up to the windshield peering at those kids one to the other, his eyes bulging through his dark-rimmed, funny-looking eyeglasses!
For a few moments, the endless sounds made it appear as though the children had stockpiled an arsenal of maypops. When there was none left, the sound of the engine elevated gently, a signal that the attack had ended. The car began to slowly pull away from the mob, leaving the onlookers staring, as it moved on.
The children were quiet for a minute as if in disbelief of what had occurred, or as if to question that maybe what they had done had not been the right thing to do. Helen then heard Pick say something like, Thatll fix him! I bet he wont run over anybody elses dog! They looked at each other and suddenly burst into laughter. The choir started. With Pick as their leader, the siblings retaliatory and boastful remarks appeared never ending.
Bunched up together, walking briskly, one trying to out talk the other about the successful attack, the siblings had been unaware of their surroundings. Oh! The children thought that they had gotten him good, and had laughed about the victory!