The Tilted World by Tom Franklin EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Author: Tom Franklin
- Language: English
- Genre: 20th Century Historical Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
April 18, 1927
The overhanging roof of the general store where federal revenue agents
Ham Johnson and Ted Ingersoll hitched their horses was tin, so at first they
didn’t hear anything but the rain, endless marbles endlessly dropped. They
were quick about the hitching, keeping their heads down, water coursing off
their hat brims. And even when they began climbing the stairs and heard the
faint wailing over the rain, they weren’t sure what they were hearing, for
then came the shock when they realized the sacks of flour they’d glimpsed
on the floor of the gallery as they’d ridden up were wearing boots. They
weren’t sacks of flour lying on a black tarp but two bodies in a thin scrim of
dark blood.
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Then the men had drawn their sidearms, were vaulting the final steps,
Ingersoll’s boots slick in the blood, half a step behind Ham. The bodies lay
facedown and Ham kicked their guns off the gallery, and then he and
Ingersoll flattened themselves on either side of the door, pressing against
the bead board. Ham nodded and they were through, into the dimly lit store
lined with shelves and a glass display case on the left. Ingersoll took one
aisle and Ham the other, both men scuttling low, meeting at a row of
barrels.Whatever noise they’d heard had stopped, but Ingersoll turned. There
was a door to a storeroom. And then that noise began again, ratcheting up, a
climbing squall.
“I sure hope that’s a cat,” Ham said.
The baby lay in the middle of the room, on its back, wailing and flinging
its arms and legs. About ten feet away, facing shelves stocked with cartons,
lay another form on its side, black suspenders marking a Y over the shirt
dark with blood, above apron strings dark with blood. Ingersoll kept his
gun, a Colt revolver, on the front entrance while Ham darted to the figure
and toed the shoulder, rolling it on its back, the head thunking on the wood
floor. He was maybe seventeen, a rifle a few feet from his head. Ham didn’t
bother to kick it away because when the boy’s eyes opened behind crooked,
blood-speckled glasses, you could tell he was done for. Ingersoll scanned
the store in front, the room behind.
How much blood a bag of a body could
release when punctured. It was puddled all the way to a back door and
running out the crack beneath. Another arm of blood reaching toward where
the baby lay screaming. Ingersoll kept his gun trained at the door but
backed closer.
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