“Jem?” There was no answer but the man’s heavy breathing.
“Jem?” Jem didn’t answer. The man began moving around, as if searching for something.
I heard him groan and pull something heavy along the ground.
It was slowly coming to me that there were now four people under the tree.
“Atticus…?” The man was walking heavily and unsteadily toward the road.
I went to where I thought he had been and felt frantically along the ground, reaching out with my toes.
Presently I touched someone. “Jem?” My toes touched trousers, a belt buckle, buttons, something I could not identify, a collar, and a face.
A prickly stubble on the face told me it was not Jem’s. I smelled stale whiskey.
I made my way along in what I thought was the direction of the road.
I was not sure, because I had been turned around so many times.
But I found it and looked down to the street light. A man was passing under it.
The man was walking with the staccato steps of someone carrying a load too heavy for him.
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