Chapter 1: Oh Deer

The boy coasted almost to a stop, then swung down off his odd looking bicycle and let it fall to the ground. His bike was a collection of parts salvaged from other bicycles of various makes and models.When the bike was not in proper running condition, Rusty Williams did his running on his own two feet,, almost always at near top speed.

The first version of Rusty’s bicycle had been a combination of a twenty inch Sears front wheel attached to a slightly bent twenty-four inch Schwinn frame and fork and no chain or derailleur. The then four year old Rusty didn’t mind a bit. Claire Williams set her young son on the seat and placed his hands on the handle bars, then pushed him around the old trailer park where they lived. She had recovered the bicycle frame and wheel dealing her many trips to various locations where she might find items of value.

Rusty accompanied his mother on her scavenging trips to search for aluminum pop cans for their deposits. or castoffs she could salvage for their own use, or fix and sell for a little extra cash.

Over time they found more assorted bicycle parts they could use from a community dump where people left trash, leaves and other unwanted items.

The fact it was not the official city was of no importance to them. The only concern Claire had was that she could provide a few extras for her small child and herself. Rusty was the center of Claire’s life and the only reason she still lived. She was determined to find a way to raise her child in a way to prepare him to cope with the world in the ways she could not.

His toy wagons, scooter and other items had been gleaned from the broken and unwanted discards of others more fortunate than they.

Claire had been ashamed that Rusty’s first Christmas presents had come from such places. Early on, she swallowed her pride and scavenged for what she could. On the other hand, Rusty didn’t care where his toys came from. All that mattered was, that he had them and they were his.

Over time, the bicycle had grown and changed as did Rusty. It become a more satisfactory means of transportation for a growing boy with ever widening horizons. The present “version” had a twenty-six inch rear wheel, a twenty-four inch front wheel, a twenty-one speed drive sprocket and derailleur. It also sported a wide, worn seat salvaged from a three wheeled “old person bike.”

After his mother cobbled together the first bicycle from whatever she could scavenge, Rusty grew, and in time, did most of the work himself, with just a little help from his mother ... with less assistance each year.

“Hey Mom!” Rusty called as soon as he opened the door and barely stuck just his head inside. His nine year old voice echoed inside the old park model prefab they called home.

“Hey Rusty!” his mother yelled back at him from right beside the door. “What are you bellowing about?”

Startled, Rusty got tangled up in his own feet and fell half in and half out the door on his butt. “Jeez, Mom, you don’t have to yell at me. After all, I’m right here.”

“Uh huh, I noticed and I’m right here and you don’t need to yell at me either. Her grin turned to laughter at the indignant look she got from him.

“Well I didn’t know you were right by the door.” He go to his feet and frowned at her.

She fake frowned back at him and said, “Well I didn’t know you were right there until you bellowed like a young moose at me. What was so important you almost yelled the house down around us? Is the sky falling?” Her lips quivered in a quavery smile as she tried not to laugh aloud at him any more than she already did.

Rusty forgot to be angry as his mind shifted to more important things.”I’m going to go up into the hills to nail a couple of rabbits, if it’s alright with you. Then tomorrow I want to go up to that old cave I discovered and camp out overnight. I think there might be some mushrooms and other plants up there we can eat or sell.

“I already got most of my garden dug and ready to be planted next week. I made it bigger than last year I traded mister Yeager out of his old rake and shovel. We’ll have peas and carrots to go with our tomatoes and potatoes and earlysquash.” Rusty was proud of his little garden he had gouged out of the ground between their home and the chain link fence that marked the boundary lines of the park. Like the park and its owner, George Yeager, the fence was old and sagging in places.

Rusty was proud of the little garden he had started, with his mother’s help, when he was five. Every year it had grown and fed them many meals better tasting than they could buy in a market.

“Well you be careful on your bike and make certain your helmet is on tight. I don’t want you to have an accident and hurt yourself.”

He paused, got a serious look on his face and spoke to her slowly, “You know, I do believe you are absolutely correct, my old and wise mother. Now why didn’t I think of that by my own dumb myself? Gee, Mom, I’m so glad you told me.” he gave a dramatic sigh and added, “for the millionth time.”

She rapped him on the head with the middle knuckle of her right hand. “Don’t be a smart ass.”

Rusty got a studious look on his face and considered, “You know, Mom, there are so many different types of asses in the world. There are the smart ones, the dumb ones, then there are the fat mom sizes.” He laughed at the look she gave him.

She lightly tapped him on the forehead with a fore finger, “You just watch it there, boy. There’s about to be a very sore one in here in about two seconds.”

Then she told him, “I’m sorry, Honey, I don’t mean to nag. I am well aware you are the most responsible son any mother could have. But I still worry about you. Just remember, if I didn’t trust you as much as I do, I wouldn’t give you the freedom to do so many things older boys never get to do. Besides, it’s a mom’s right to worry a little about her wonderful son.

“I know, Mom, and I do appreciate you. You got to remember, though, I’m just a young kid and we got a duty to make smart remarks. It’s in our Levi’s. Or some other kind of genes.”

“Get away from me! Go do what you said and bring home a rabbit for supper. It’s close to the end of the month and we’re running low on everything, as usual.”

In a matter of fact voice, he told her, “I’ll take care of us, don’t worry.” He hopped on his waiting ancient “bike of many makes and colors,” as his mother called it, and pedaled away toward his destination.

It might best be described as “a continual work in progress.” Its appearance constantly changed from one month to another, mostly for the better. As old wore out, broke or something better found, the odd looking bike morphed from one odd shape to another. Somehow, almost all the changes were improvements.

Rusty had seen a distant flash higher up on the mountain and wondered what it might be, then poy it out of his mind and kept going. He decided it was probably nothing important.

As he did on all the other trips up the mountain toward his favorite hunting and fishing places, Rusty kept pedaling at an almost constant five miles an hour. By ten in the morning, he reached his planned destination. He looked up toward where he had seen the brief flash of light and saw another. This time it was brighter and more distinct. He decided to keep on going and discover what caused that flash.

He pedaled the final two miles, almost at a sprint, then skidded to a skidding stop when he reached the cause of the flashes. He stared. There had not been much he might considered strange in his life before this present time. Th sight before him was awe inspiring strange. “Oh my god!” he exclaimed, “What the hell?”