CENSUS_What Lurks Beneath

by Marshall Cobb

  simultaneously, down several other paths. To the outside world he came across as aloof, or even intolerant. He did not see himself that way, but would acknowledge that he checked out of conversations where he saw little value, instead focusing on more interesting fare—which could be off-putting to the person speaking.

  The water, which had long since entered the boiling phase, caught Dave’s eye. Boiling water, like the steamy blood bubbling out of a decapitated deer. Dave again rubbed his aching head as he watched the water.

  Push the deer down. There’s nothing you can do about the deer—if that even happened.

  Of course it happened! I saw it!

  You saw what exactly? Where’s the evidence?

  Ok. I don’t have evidence but I know what I saw.

  Do you? Why don’t you go pick up your old laptop then see if Mark can fix it? Oh wait, are you scared he might tell you there’s nothing there—or are you scared of your new girlfriend, the deputy?

  “She’s not my girlfriend!”

  It took Dave a moment to realize that he’d shouted that last comment at the pot of boiling water.

  Oh shit. I’m arguing with myself now? That can’t be a good sign.

  He took a deep breath, grabbing the counter for support. Then pushed himself back up, opened both noodle packets and poured them into the boiling water.

  “I am a grown man. I am not afraid of the dark. I am not afraid of the bogeyman.”

  Saying these things out loud gave them credibility.

  “I don’t love my wife, and my wife doesn’t love me.” It also felt good to finally say that.

  “I hate my job. It’s eventually going to kill me.” That was very true—probably sooner than later.

  “All I really have in life is this farm, and Adam. There is something bad about the farm, but at times it makes me happier than anything else. Adam loves coming to the farm.”

  His inner chorus had quieted on the “something bad” comment, but cheered the fact that Adam loved the farm.

  “I don’t trust my neighbors.”

  True, but you’re not in love with your neighbors back in the city either.

  “I don’t remember why I picked this land over everything else we looked at. I think the land picked me.”

  He was brought back into the here-and-now by the smell of something burning. He looked down and saw that his double dose of noodles had overwhelmed the capacity of the small pot he’d prepared them in. He quickly moved the boiling mess off to another, unlit burner, staring at the flames still wicking through the soggy mess. The flames fought to burn through the foamy residue, creating a noxious, sickly odor.

  The odor reminded him of the poop-covered chain and the still-open gate that he had completely forgotten about. No longer hungry, he turned off the stove and put the foamy pot in the sink. He turned the hot water on high and let it run, then fumbled in the pantry for a bucket.

  This wasn’t going to be any fun. At all. He didn’t care if it made him a sissy or not, but he was going to drive out to the gate in his truck and leave the headlights on while he worked on the putrid chain.

  He was also going to try very hard not to think about the fact that he was now arguing with himself.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Man Time

  “I’m still not sure this is a great idea.”

  Adam had begged and begged for another trip to the farm. Marilyn had conflicting obligations with her volunteer work for the school, so Dave and Adam came as a duo to enjoy the last weekend of September, close to the last of the summer heat, and what they termed “man time.”

  Dave had his foot firmly planted on the brake of their Mule 4x4 UTV. Adam sat on the bench seat next to him, doing his best to squirm out of the hold of his seatbelt. Adam held a ball of twine in his hand with a strand leading over their bench seat to the small utility bed behind them, where a kite sat carefully perched, awaiting the wind necessary for take-off.

  It was not a particularly windy day, which is why Adam’s more tradi- tional attempt at flying a kite in the narrow portion of cleared land north of the ponds but south of the barbwire fence, had failed. Dave had had to participate in all facets of that effort for a number of reasons, including the fact that too much line let out too early would result in the kite be- coming entangled in the electrical lines that left the larger transmission towers to feed power to his house. In theory, flying a kite on country property was no great feat. In reality, a piece of property with power lines and a small forest created more challenges than opportunities.

  “Come on, Daddy. Let’s go.” Adam’s eager face overcame his lingering doubts. Dave didn’t

  really think that trailing the kite behind the UTV in a tight figure-eight pattern, that avoided trees and power lines, was going to work, but Adam was convinced it would, and was certain to pester him until they made the attempt.

  Dave looked behind them to make sure that the kite was still sitting upright. He then looked over to Adam to make sure that he had a hold on the twine, as well as the stick they’d fed through the hole in the ball to feed out more line, in the unlikely event that this approach worked. The kite was still upright, and Adam was more than ready, so Dave took his foot off the brake and applied it to the gas. “Here we go!”

  As they bounced along the rough terrain Dave was treated to a series of excited shouts and giggles from Adam. The kite was performing exactly as he predicted, and now tracked fiercely through the air above, and just a bit behind them. They also had accompaniment in the form of Sampson, who chased behind them in a vain attempt to jump into the UTV.

  “See Daddy—told you!”

  Line continued to peel off the ball, and Dave, who was concentrating primarily on the terrain he had to cross at speed, and secondarily on the trees and power lines looming at the perimeter, stole a quick glance at the ball of twine to make sure that Adam was hanging onto it—a process he’d had challenges with even when simply playing it out while standing in the pasture.

  “Hang on to that twine. Don’t let it out too quickly—and don’t let go!” Adam patted Dave’s arm condescendingly. “It’s okay Daddy, I’ve got it.”

  In this particular instance Adam was correct, and as Dave repeatedly wove them around the available portion of the property, Adam alter- nately fed and retrieved line to keep the wind-whipped kite in the air. Dave smiled throughout the process as he deftly avoided the larger holes

  and other obstacles in their path to maximize their speed, and the space available for acrobatics on the part of the kite.

  Eventually an errant gust caught the kite during one of its slower, mid- turn moments and sent it plunging to the ground—where it fortunately missed the now-lagging Sampson. Dave brought the UTV to a stop as Adam screamed out. For a moment Dave thought that all the good times they’d just had were going to be wiped out by the drama of this failure, but he was almost immediately saved by the sound of Adam’s giggling. The kite, which had fought him like a large fish during its plunge, was now stuck headfirst in the pasture, the small amount of natural wind pecking at the edges of its no longer taut wings. Perhaps it was this sight that inspired Adam’s next thought.

  “Daddy?”

  Dave prepared himself to be ordered into another thirty minutes of chauffeuring the kite, and turned to look at his son. “Yes, Adam?”

  “Let’s go fishing!”

  Dave smiled in spite of himself. The kid was all go all the time out here. In addition to the tangled string leading to the no-doubt damaged kite driven into the ground behind them, he still needed to clean up the various messes they’d created earlier in the day: the whittling on the front porch, the bb gun vs. can shoot-out that had happened just off the patio, the dirty, seed and burr covered Sampson, the misshapen collage of scrap wood that had been created using spare screws and nails and, of course, the watercolor painting station that had been set up on the kitchen table but found a way to expand into the living room.

  He mussed Adam’s long hair. “Ok, but yo
u’re going to have to help me pick up all of the other messes when we’re done.”

  “No problem Daddy!” Adam beamed as he delivered the giant fib that neither one of them believed.

  A couple of hours later Dave found himself unable to extricate Adam from the small fishing pier on the upper pond. Despite a couple of rounds of sunscreen Adam’s cheeks and neck were trending toward purple. Mar- ilyn would have Dave’s hide were he to return with a sunburned child. Dave tried one more time. “Buddy, you gotta let him go and we need to go get everything picked up.”

  Adam stomped his small foot, and for effect, extended his grimy hand toward Dave’s face. “He likes me and I don’t want to put him back!” The “he” referred to was the small sunfish that Adam had caught and decided to adopt, somewhat oblivious to the reality that a fish out of water was not palatable to any of the parties involved.

  Dave would have forced the issue of the fish earlier, but thought the hook removal had unfortunately, already done-in the overly ambitious fish who had attempted to eat a worm 90% its own size. Dave wasn’t sure how long the fish had held on to life but suspected it was only a few gasps before Adam’s squeeze sealed the deal. “Adam, he’s dead. Please put him back in the water so he can be food for the other fish and the turtles.”

  “He is not dead! See!” Adam extended the fish higher while simultane- ously squeezing it such that the eyes bulged out slightly on either side and the mouth opened involuntarily. Dave stared into the vacant eyes of the dead fish, looking for a solution that wasn’t there. Dave then looked over to the heaving belly of his otherwise spent, thoroughly wet dog who lay in a pool of pond water he’d brought with him to the dock after he’d been admonished to get out of the water for the fifteenth time.

  Another few hours later, post the inevitable burial of the fish, a much- needed shower, dinner and an animated movie, Adam and his rosy cheeks lay beneath the covers in Dave and Marilyn’s bed. It was hard to convince Adam to sleep in his own bed, particularly when he’d decided that he needed to snuggle. Dave lost any hope of winning this battle

  when he announced that he now needed to go out into the dark night and put up all the various toys and tools that they’d played with during the day that had somehow not managed to secure themselves.

  “But I’m scared daddy.” Adam patted the comforter next to him. “Just come lay down here.”

  Dave looked down at himself and marveled that Adam wanted anything to do with him. Unlike his son, who had been forced into a deep-clean in the shower as well as fresh pajamas, Dave still wore the same outfit he’d started the day with. Sweat, dirt, worm blood and fish residue all competed for the title of worst smell. The only relatively clean parts of him were his hands and forearms, which he’d been forced to scrub before making dinner—and which had been washed again during the battle to keep Adam in the shower.

  “Not gonna happen little man. I’ve gotta go put everything up or it’ll all be ruined and we won’t have toys to play with the next time we’re out here. I’ll be back in soon and I’ll lay down with you once I’m cleaned up.”

  Adam remained unconvinced. “I don’t want you out there in the dark all alone.”

  Dave chuckled. “I’ll be fine. I’ll bring the big flashlight.” “Well…I don’t want to be in here all alone.”

  “You’re not alone. Sampson is here to protect you.”

  Adam sat up and looked over the side of the bed, where Sampson, wear- ing an impressive collection of sticker burrs and dirt, lay collapsed on the tile floor. Normally hearing his name produced at least a wag of the tail, if not a full-on pounce, but this had not been a normal day.

  “He looks pretty tired Daddy.”

  The very end of Sampson’s tail twitched ever so slightly—evidence that he was in fact still alive.

  Dave gently pushed Adam back down toward his pillow while he grabbed a book off his night stand and put it on his chest. “He’ll wake up in a hurry if any bad guys came around. Trust me.”

  Adam frowned, then picked up the book and began to fumble through its pages. “OK Daddy, but hurry up.”

  Dave took the order in stride and bent down to kiss Adam on his fore- head. “I won’t be long boss. Promise.”

  Dave, careful to not step on Sampson, gently crept out of the room and closed the door behind him. His happy thoughts at this day that had been, met the reality of the unwashed dishes, the dirty clothes strewn about and the general wreckage that was the house. Before he even got to these chores he needed to secure all the toys outside. At some point he figured he should also call Marilyn to assure her that everyone, par- ticularly Adam, was still alive.

  He smiled in spite of it all and made his way to the front door, and his dirty boots that sat just outside it. He opened the door, a little surprised to realize that Sampson hadn’t even followed him out of the bedroom, grabbed his boots and closed the door behind him.

  Checking to make sure that he wasn’t going to sit on anything that might bite him in return, he plopped heavily down on the concrete patio and raised his left leg to begin pulling on a boot. With his leg extended and both hands pulling on either side of the boot he noticed something emerge from the tall grass just off the edge of the porch.

  His head suddenly pounding, he knew immediately that the large, tri- angular head belonged to a snake. Under the glare of the porch light, flicking its tongue intermittently, the snake slithered forward onto the concrete.

  Dave watched its sideways motion coming at him from his extremely vulnerable viewpoint between his forearms, still clutching the right side of his boot, and his slightly bent, but still extended leg. He froze, know- ing that he had neither the time nor dexterity to get up before the snake struck, if that was its intention.

  He winced as the pain in his temple soared. The snake slithered closer and all he could think about was what would happen to Adam if he died here on the porch.

  Worse yet, what if I cry out and Adam comes to see what happens—and then gets bit himself.

  He closed his eyes, trying to will the snake away.

  Maybe it’s just the diamondback water-snake that hangs around the pond. It’s not venomous, it…

  His optimistic thought was interrupted by the rattle that came from the tail of the snake. Not a harmless diamondback water-snake, but a dia- mondback rattlesnake.

  Dave bit his lip, squeezed his eyes shut and, ignoring the pain in his head, he formed an agreement with himself. He would wriggle his boot, hoping the snake wouldn’t be able to get through the heavy leather and, either way, try to kill it with his bare hands.

  I’ll have enough time to go back in and call for an ambulance. The gate is already open. There’s a snakebite kit on top of the fridge—

  His planning was interrupted this time by pressure on his groin. He then felt that weight move across the underside of his forearm. The touch was cool, and smooth. He fought back the impulse to scream. His leg quivered from the effort of keeping it aloft and still. Sweat poured out of him. He felt a drop fall off his nose into his lap. As he waited for the

  next drop to fall, something faint, like the touch of a feather, flicked the end of his nose.

  Dave fought even harder against the impulse to scream, or move.

  What happens if it bites me in the face? Will I still have the ability to fight it? What about Adam!?

  The pain in his head reached a level he had never felt before. His limbs trembling, sweat pouring off his body, he made one final agreement with himself.

  I’m going to open my eyes, grab this thing and, bite or no bite, I’m going to kill it and then call for help.

  With visions of the snake sinking its fangs into his eye socket Dave gath- ered his breath, willed his trembling muscles to cooperate and slowly opened his eyes. Instead of the snake he’d expected just inches from his face, there was only his boot in the air still supported by his trembling arms and now-spasming left leg. His dirty shirt was a puddle, but be- trayed no evidence of visitation by a snake
, or anything else.

  He continued his pose, despite the pain, fearful that the snake was just beneath or, worse yet, just behind him. Every muscle in his body now quivered, not just from the tension of his arms and outstretched leg, but from the stress of knowing that at any moment he could still be bitten by the snake. Worse yet, he knew that his already-tired body wouldn’t hold out much longer. He was going to have to move. If the snake was still there, that movement would likely trigger it to bite.

  If I’m going to try and leap away, which I probably can’t do anyway, I’m going to need to do it before my leg cramps up.

  Dave kept his head still as he craned his eyes to either side, attempting to get some idea of where the snake had gone. There was nothing to see, except more sweat pouring down his face. This stalemate could’ve only

  gone on a few more minutes, but was interrupted by a yell from within the house accompanied by the footfalls of Adam’s surprisingly loud feet.

  “Daddy? I’m scared. I want to come with you!”

  Dave’s heart sunk. There was no more waiting. He flung himself to his left, attempting to complete a roll that would have him come up on his feet. His bare feet. Which he would then use to try and stomp this snake to death before Adam opened the door.

  “Daddy???!”

  He came to his feet just as the door opened.

  “No Adam NO!” Dave screamed as he clumsily got to his feet while reaching to close the door, scanning for the presence of the snake.