Billy swept by with his broom, gathering what feathers he could into little piles on the sticky floor. He hummed a happy tune, performing his pointless job. A water hose and steel brush were the only tools capable of scouring up these bloody feathers.
Hunter scowled when he noticed that Billy was the youngest kid in the place. Billy should be doing something else besides odd jobs in this house of death.
“How do you like it so far?” Billy asked.
Hunter wiped sweat from his brow. He jutted out his bottom lip and blew a feather off his forehead. “It’s a blast.”
The comment earned a round of chuckles at the table. “Beats the Hog House,” someone said. Hunter joined the chorus of agreements before all heads bowed back to their chickens.
Billy leaned into Hunter. “I asked Phillip about oceans and continents.”
“Who’s Phillip?”
“He’s the smartest guy I know.” Billy swept some more at the pile gathering around Hunter’s feet. “He said you were right about all that stuff. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”
Hunter smiled. “That’s all right. It’s not your fault nobody’s taught you anything. Maybe during lunch I can show you a place where you can learn about other stuff.”
“Really?” Billy’s face beamed pure pleasure.
“Sure, why not.”
A pear-shaped kid waddled over with his beady eyes sunken behind massive cheeks. The boy’s dirty shirt crept over his belly button. He had an outie.
“Hey, you two quit screwing off and get back to work.”
“Right away, Phillip,” Billy said, furiously sweeping the sticky feathers.
Hunter refused to budge. He eyed Phillip until the fat kid turned around and headed back the way he came. Phillip climbed atop his stool next to a wall, crossed his arms and continued his search for slackers.
“That’s the smartest guy you know?” Hunter laughed, shook his head and finished plucking his chicken.
Billy fidgeted with the broom handle and glanced over his shoulder. “Patrick says to listen to Phillip, so I listen.”
Hunter tossed his naked chicken into the plastic bin, and claimed another dead bird. “Where is Patrick?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t gotten here yet. He pretty much comes and goes whenever he wants. That’s why Phillip’s in charge.”
“Why? Are they related or something?”
That brought a round of warier chuckles, but everyone stayed focused on their plucking.
“Be careful saying those kinds of things. The wrong person might overhear and you don’t want to get fired, or worse.” Billy dumped a dustpan full of feathers in the trash. “Phillip’s dad owned a chicken farm. That’s why he’s in charge. Phillip taught us what to do.”
“Then what does Patrick do?”
“He likes chopping off chicken heads,” Billy said. He grabbed a plastic bin of plucked carcasses and transported them to another part of the building.
• • •
A nearby church bell rang, signaling lunchtime. Phillip passed out casino chips and told everyone to hurry back when the bell rang again or they could find a different job. The last thing Hunter felt like doing was eating. He considered checking in with Jimmy, but that was too far away and he might not make it back in time. He decided to educate Billy instead.
Billy skipped after Hunter like they were going to the toy store, as fresh air and warm sunshine brushed away the remnant of chicken death. They approached a sparkling pond occupied by Canadian geese dressed in mottled shades of brown feathers. Hunter washed off at the muddy edge and the geese congregated close-by seeking handouts.
“I’m glad we’re not plucking those things.”
“That’s only on Thursdays.”
Hunter would be out of Denver by Thursday. If not, then he would make sure to skip work at the Goose Shack.
They continued walking through a neighborhood until Hunter spotted the tall metal pole standing in the grassy area of a circular drive. He led Billy to the building named Henderson Elementary. They stepped inside, choosing a careful path across a pair of shattered glass doors lying on the floor.
“What is this place?” Billy asked.
Hunter glanced into a room and then traveled farther down a hallway cluttered with paper, books and broken furniture. “This was a school. A place where they used to send kids to learn about things before all the grownups died.” He walked into another room and pulled down a rolled-up map. “See, this is the world. The blue parts are the oceans and the brown and green are the continents.”
Billy inspected the map closely and narrowed his eyes. “It’s flat.”
“Well, yeah, maps are flat. But here…” Hunter crossed over the scattered notebook paper, broken pencils and other debris that littered the classroom. “This is called a globe.” He lifted the dingy orb off a filing cabinet and gave it a spin to whirl away the dust. Then he handed the world to Billy.
Billy set the globe down on a desk and traced his finger over the oceans and continents. “Where are we?”
Hunter pointed to Denver. “Feel these bumps here? They represent the mountains.”
Billy touched the bumps and gazed out the window where the mountains rose to challenge the western sky. “That’s amazing.”
Hunter smiled. “At least now you know where you are.”
• • •
When they returned to the Chicken Shack, Hunter wished he could do anything besides rip the feathers from a dead bird. But he started plucking when Phillip mounted his backside to the stool and shouted, “Work!”
Billy bustled about his duties, telling everyone about school. Some kids nodded their heads, saying they remembered, and it wasn’t that great. Billy would disagree, explaining the importance of an education. Hunter smiled at the monster he had created.
Then Phillip waddled over and ruined it all. “Get back to work!” He slapped Billy in the back of the head and knocked him to the concrete floor.
Hunter charged Phillip, aiming his punches at the fat kid’s dumbstruck face. Hunter pounded his fists into Phillip until his anger faded into shame. Phillip hobbled away, sobbing.
Underneath his heavy breathing and the growing distance of Phillip’s crying, Hunter noticed the silence surrounding him. He shrugged and addressed his coworkers. “I think we all know how to pluck a chicken without him yelling at us.”
A few halfhearted cheers rose from the crowd before everyone carried on with their plucking. The mood in the Chicken Shack lightened as several quiet discussions sprouted about how Phillip had been asking for that butt kicking for a while.
Hunter helped Billy up from the floor. Billy rubbed his head as Hunter patted the little boy on the shoulder and brushed some feathers off his shirt.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, thanks.”