I was a scrubby fifteen year old kid hanging with a few 17 year old scrubby kids. I can say that now, but at the time I worshiped them like the Gods they thought they were. On a warm Nebraska afternoon trading comic books and reading sci-fi, Jake got the idea of faking a crop circle. Well, not faking, but making a crop circle to fake out Mr. and Mrs. Greeley. They practically owned the town and hired most of us to work in their candy factory and stores. But that day their corn crop was calling us, and we were going to answer. Russ started to lay out a plan. Jake was the idea guy, but Russ? He was the executioner. And Cal and I? We were the followers. Not in a lowly way, it was just how our friendship happened, and the more time passed, the better I felt about that.
I knew about crop circles. They were made by UFO landings, or by the aliens that occupied the space ships.They caused the ground to be radioactive and contaminated the water supply. Animals would die and people would get sick. Looking back, I was naive. I asked them what all that had to do with us. I’ll never forget their cackling and slapping at me over and over. Sometimes in the late night I can still hear all of them, every single one of them.
Jake had his dad’s old 1980 Ford pickup truck. We piled into that thing and twenty minutes later we were at Dickey’s hardware store with Russ in charge. Rope and poles. Lots of rope. We picked up an old wooden ladder from Jake’s garage and headed out north. Jake and Russ in the cab, and Cal and I in the truck bed whooping and hollering like wild animals set free. We rode about an hour before Jake pulled into a private dirt road, turned off the radio and headlights, and slowed to a gritty 3 mph. When he stopped we got out.
Russ said to whisper and follow along. Jake had an old flashlight. Cal was next. I was the last one walking into that field of corn. I kept tripping, nervous about what might be going on behind me. We were only ten minutes in when Russ announced this is the place.
Russ tied the rope to the pole and I climbed the ladder. That rickety old ladder. Russ and Cal held onto the ladder trying to steady it on uneven ground, pulling and pushing it as I lumbered slowly upward, testing each rung before putting my full weight on it. I almost fell when one of the rungs snapped, and Cal could hardly stop snickering. I snickered, too, but it was a nervous snicker, a fearful snicker. Russ told us to shush. I climbed just enough for my liking, but Russ said to keep going. So I stepped higher but stopped when I could barely balance myself with my shins against one of the higher rungs. I heard the rung creak as I leaned into it. I held up the pole, just like Russ told me to. There I was, in the middle of a cornfield swaying in the night air on the top of a rickety old ladder holding up a pole with rope tied to the top of it. I was exhilarated. For once, I felt like the top dog.
Russ, Jake and Cal took hold of the rope one after the other, Russ first, then Jake, with Cal next, just as it should be. I held steady, as steady as I could. They started walking around me in a circle smashing the cornstalks as they went. We laughed like hyenas every time Russ gave an instruction, like to stomp harder or tell Cal to smash the stalks. Smash the stalks became our mantra. Smash the stalks, smash the stalks, while Jake and Cal stomped each other’s shoes, poking each other with their elbows, reeling in the absurdity of it all. Russ said this was serious business. We had till dawn, no, before dawn, to make this crop circle happen. But I swear it was so funny we couldn’t stop laughing for long. And the more we laughed, the more they stumbled and the more I lost my balance. And the more they stumbled. I yelled for them to stop, they were pulling on the rope. I yelled out that I was falling, to wait, wait! I was going to fall! I heard Russ shout out like a king that only the mighty fall.
Then Jake and Cal fell into the corn, yanking that rope and taking me with them. I heard the rung break and next thing I knew I was on the ground smashed into the stalks with the wind knocked out of me. Jake and Cal were howling a few feet from me. But I didn’t hear Russ. I called for Jake and Cal to stop. Shut up! Where was Russ? Where is he? The three of us called his name. He didn’t answer. We started crawling around, calling for Russ. Damn it, Russ! Then I felt him, his hand, his arm. I shouted to the others. I scooted up next to him, and yelled at him to get up, which was the only time I ever ordered him to do anything. But he didn’t move. Jake and Cal had made their way over and were standing over me and Russ. I reached my hand out, held my breath and then screamed. I screamed! The guys tried to pull me away, telling me not to look, but I scuffled back to Russ. By then the sun was coming up. By then I could see. I could see the pole, the pole I’d been holding at the top of that rickety ladder, the pole that was sticking out of Russ’ chest. I could see his blood soaked shirt, his frozen face. My screams pierced the sky.
Jake pulled me up and told me to run, he was going for help. I said I wanted to go with him, but I couldn’t hear my voice. My voice was silent, but Jake heard it. Jake pushed me and told me to run, run so that no one would see me in the truck. I looked over at Cal, he was just standing over Russ’ body, staring at him, his arms weighted toward the ground, toward Russ.
I turned and ran, I ran. I ran through the corn field smashing the stalks. I couldn’t get the look of Russ’ dead body out of my mind. And the blood! Smash the stalks, smash the stalks. I had killed Russ. My blood brother, Russ. What did Russ say? Smash the stalks. Smash the stalks.