Bob Bradley
2022
I was perched on the wall of an old warehouse along the railroad tracks in Carrville, Texas. The August sun cooked the Texas hill country like a side of beef on the Fourth of July. A bead of sweat rolled out of my overgrown burr hair and sliced a gully though the grime on my face. I blinked, but the grime and sweat filled my right eye. I wanted to wipe it but was afraid I’d fall and break my neck. We were looking for Nazi spies, which was a noble cause in 1943, but Carrville was in the middle of the Texas hill country. It was hundreds of miles from where spies could be. Plus, we were eleven and wouldn't know what to do with a spy if we caught one. Any fool knew there were no spies in Carr County, but my friend Dougie was no ordinary fool. We were best friends or worst enemies depending on what day it was.
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