The Drought

by Patricia Fulton

  He followed the dirt path for a few minutes, turned off the trail and headed toward a slight rise in the land. He left his bike in a patch of dried out buffalo grass and waited for Suzy. When she rode up, he said, “Leave your bike here and follow me.”

  Suzy dropped her bike and trudged through the dead grass, noticing for the first time the absence of biting insects. She stopped for a moment and looked out over the grassland. A single match could set it all ablaze. The thought sent a tingle down her spine. With all the crazy happenings going on around Junction, it was only a matter of time before someone acted on the thought.

  Jar hissed at her in a dramatic stage whisper, “Suzy.”

  Realizing he was already at the top, she hurried through the grass and up the slope.

  The shots they heard were not coming from poachers. Suzy and Jar were on a rise overlooking the livestock area of the McManus farm. They watched in fascinated horror as Maple lined up the sights on her rifle and shot a huge pig. The pig stumbled, but didn’t go down. Instead it ran faster around the enclosed pen, squealing in loud shrill tones that sounded almost human.

  “She’s gone mad, just like her daddy.” Suzy’s voice was low, almost reverent, lowered in quiet respect at the phenomenon of watching someone go insane. Jar could not refute her words. The scene unfolding before them was something straight out of the movies.

  *

  Maple reloaded the rifle, aimed, and fired again. The bullet penetrated the thick hide of the pig causing a fresh series of horrific squeals. The bullet hit the spine and the pig’s rear legs gave out. Now the pitiful creature was squealing and pulling itself around the pen by its front hooves. Even without its hind legs, the huge beast continued its attempts to escape the slaughtering pen. Maple remained on the outside of the pen trying to line up her next shot. The third shot entered through the pig’s eye and this time the animal went down, but not quietly. It continued to squeal, refusing to die. Its soulful cries tore through the hot air.

  Disgusted, Maple set aside her gun and pulled a long knife from her belt. “Tie her up, Lionel!”

  A tall, lanky man jumped the fence and warily approached the screaming pig. He had two lengths of rope draped across his narrow shoulders and within a few minutes he efficiently hog-tied the pig. Demonstrating a surprising amount of strength for a man of his build, Lionel dragged the large pig by its rear legs to the side of the pen. The pig continued its futile struggle. Shimmering in the afternoon sun, a trail of blood marked their progress across the pen. Indifferent to the horrendous cries, the man, sweating profusely, attached a hook to the rope tied around the pig’s rear legs. He gave a nearly imperceptible signal and the high whine of a motor joined the human like cries.

  The pig was slowly lifted into the air. Maple, still holding her long knife, entered the pen and approached the elevated pig. In one, swift, motion she drew the knife across the pig’s throat. A torrent of blood poured from the slit, soaking the ground at her feet. At last, the screaming beast fell silent. Maple wiped the blood from her knife. She said, “Let her bleed out then finish the job.” Turning away she walked toward the farmhouse.

  *

  Jar was pretty sure he would never eat pork again. Way back in his subconscious mind he knew where the piece of crispy bacon came from, but nothing had prepared him for the reality of a pig slaughter. He looked over at Suzy who was still shaking her head, trying to deny what they had just witnessed. He pulled at her arm and nodded in the direction of the bikes. They both scooted back off the ridge and sat on the slope. The sun glinted off the handlebars on their bikes, winking at them, reminding them they still had a long ride back to town when they were done goofing off around here. Suzy was the first to speak.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  He shook his head. “We don’t have enough water.”

  Her voice rose in near hysteria. “We can’t go over there, they’re all insane. Did you see what they did to that pig? How do you know they won’t string you up?”

  Rolling his eyes, he tried to sound calm, his voice not quite matching his racing heart. “They killed a pig. That’s what ranchers do.”

  She pressed her lips down tight and shook her head in denial. “That was murder. Did you hear the pig scream? My god who could do that, who could…” Her voice trailed off. Unable to find an answer to her own question, she sat in silence, tears glistening in her eyes.

  “Listen Suzy, you’ve got to keep it together. We didn’t ride all this way just to turn around.” Squatting beside her he said, “I’m going down there.” He could see the objection forming on her face even before the words spilled out into the hot air.

  “No Jar, don’t…”

  He lifted his hand in the same silencing gesture his mother used on him and was surprised when it worked, Suzy stopped talking. He placed both of his hands on her shoulders and used his mother’s most reassuring voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”

  *

  Jar stood just outside the screen door. Large black flies, some as big as his thumbnail, buzzed around his head, occasionally touching down on his sweat-covered skin. Jerking reflexively, he swatted the flies away, still wondering what he would say to Maple McManus when she noticed him standing on her doorstep. He could hear water running and imagined she must have come in to clean the blood off her hands. Tapping lightly at the screen door, he called out in a timid voice, “Ms. McManus?” Somewhere in the house, the water shut off.

  Maple, rubbing a kitchen towel over her wet hands approached the backdoor. She peered outside, suspiciously. Seeing the dirty boy standing on her back stoop, she narrowed her eyes and in a rough voice asked, “What do you want?”

  Jar held up his empty canteen with a trembling hand. In a voice that didn’t sound like his own, he said, “I was out hiking and I ran out of water.”

  “Well, then you’re an idiot. Why should I give my water to an idiot?”

  Jar dropped his eyes and looked down at his shoes. His big toe was starting to wear a hole through the left shoe. The hinges on the screen door squeaked and Maple, holding the door wider said, “Even an idiot knows when to come in out of the heat.”

  He walked inside.

  It wasn’t much cooler inside. Maple had fans set up in various windows but no air-conditioning. She walked over to the sink and filled a glass with water, waving for him to sit down at the little table set against the wall. The fixings for lunch were set out and he watched as a couple of flies walked across a giant red tomato.

  She noticed him staring at the tomato and stated as a matter of fact. “I grew it in my own garden. You can’t find produce like that at the store.” She set the glass of water down on the table. He eagerly picked it up and drained the glass.

  Brushing the flies away she cut a thick slice from the tomato. She smeared two slices of bread with mayonnaise and placed the tomato wedge between them. Through a mouthful of bread and tomato she said, “Nothing better than a tomato sandwich. Want one?”

  Uneasily, he eyed the flies that had alighted once again onto the tomato and considered declining the offer. Then he felt his stomach rumble and reconsidered. He nodded his head and Maple slathered another glob of mayo across two slices of bread. She was right, you couldn’t find a tomato like this at the grocery store. The sweet meat of the thick tomato slice blended perfectly with the mayonnaise. Each bite dissolved blissfully in his mouth.

  Finished with her own sandwich she got up to pour herself a cup of coffee. Steam swirled up off the thick brew. She lit a cigarette and sat down again. The pleats around her mouth deepened when she inhaled. Cigarette dangling from her lip, she said, “I know who you are. You’re Beth Riley’s kid.” She turned to find an ashtray, and without preamble or concern for etiquette she added. “Didn’t they just pull your Daddy out of the North Llano River?”

  Jar watched the ash from Maple’s cigarette fall to the floor. He felt a flutter in his stomach at the mention of his dad but he didn’t know how he was supposed to
react. He wanted to mourn his father, but he didn’t have a single memory of the man except for the ones his mother had provided. He was only two years old when his dad disappeared. Jar swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and sat in silence.

  Maple, unaware of her slip, found the ashtray she was looking for and managed to get the next flick of ash into the glass cylinder. She turned around and saw the look on the boy’s face and realized her manner had been harsh. She was used to being by herself or around her animals. She didn’t know how to act around children. “Well, hell, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  He responded with his own question. “Why did you let the pig suffer for so long?”

  She took another drag off her cigarette. “You saw that?”

  He nodded.

  She blew out the smoke and surprised Jar by explaining what happened. “You’re supposed to shock the pigs.” She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. “Right here.” She placed two fingers behind each of her ears. “We’ve got these long electrified tongs that go behind the pigs ears. If they’re used correctly, they stun the pig. The pig goes down, the men hog-tie the pig and they slit its throat.” She gestured toward the general direction of the slaughtering pen. “You got to witness what happens when something goes wrong. Lionel, he’s one of my ranch-hands, slipped and stunned the pig in the wrong place. You know what happens after that?”

  He shook his head.

  Maple laughed in a raspy voice. “You’ve got one really pissed off pig.” She looked over at the boy. “What’s your name, hon?”

  He hesitated for a moment then stuttered. “Jar…I mean, Jared, Ma’am.”

  “Jared, let me tell you something about pigs. They’re some of the meanest shits on this planet.” She shook her head slowly. “And they’re damn hard to kill. I once saw a pig take ten shots before it went down. When the men came over to tie it up, it took hold one of their legs and bit down, clear to the bone.”

  Jar stared, mesmerized as Maple reached out her hand and grabbed the air, demonstrating the hold the pig took. She took a long sip of her coffee and added. “That bite got infected and I heard the man lost his leg clear up to his knee.”

  “So you haven’t gone mad like your daddy?”

  Maple spewed coffee across the table. She was laughing so hard she started herself into a coughing fit. Her cough was a bronchial wheeze, acquired from years of smoking. When she finally regained enough breath to speak, she said, “Oh, I’m mad all right. But it’s not the heat that’s made me so.” She was rubbing tears from her eyes when the boy spoke again. This time, his words froze her hands in mid-motion and sent her heart racing in her chest.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Junction, Texas

  Suzy sat on the ridge waiting for Jar.

  Down below the pig had bled out. Chickens ducked under the split rail fence and began pecking at the blood soaked dirt. Lionel cut the ropes and the giant hog fell to the ground. Curtis joined him and together they covered the dead beast with hay. At first it looked like they were using the hay to soak up the blood but then Lionel took out a match and lit a cigarette. He held the match for a second, letting it burn, then casually tossed it onto the hay. The hay ignited and the flames eagerly engulfed the carcass. Each time the fire burned low, the two men would kick hay onto the smoldering husk and fresh flames would ignite.

  The stench of burnt hair and flesh floated on the dry air.

  After awhile, Lionel raked the hay away from the pig, revealing the scorched body. He set the rake aside and pulled a silver instrument from his pocket. It was a spoon. He plunged the spoon into the pig’s eye socket and popped the useless orb from the scorched head.

  It made a distinct, “POP.” Similar to the sound of an index finger pressed against the inside of an air-filled cheek and popped out again.

  He spooned the second eyeball out of the pig’s head and tossed it to his friend. “Hey Curtis, catch!” Laughing, Curtis caught the orb and popped it into his mouth.

  Tears of blood trailed from the empty sockets of the dead pig.

  Next, Lionel cut the hooves from the pig, discarding each one on the ground before moving to the next.

  Suzy couldn’t take the gruesome spectacle another minute. She walked down the slope determined to trace Jar’s footsteps to the farmhouse. She was just coming around the bluff when the man named Curtis appeared on the trail in front of her. He gave her a giant grin. The pig’s eye was clenched between his grinning teeth.

  Suzy screamed.

  *

  Jar watched Maple’s stunned face. She was speechless from his last sentence and now he was glad he’d risked the heat to come here. All he had said was he had dreams of a dark man, stoking the fires of hell somewhere beneath Junction. The reoccurring nightmare switched off with his dream about the little girl coloring everything brown and the people he thought of as the gypsies chasing Barry. He’d told Suzy about the little girl, but he’d kept the dark man and the gypsies to himself.

  The whole town knew the story about Maple and her brown crayon. She had told the story at her father’s funeral. Jar knew that the little girl in his dreams was Maple. But he wasn’t just dreaming about a story he’d heard around town; the picture he had seen at the library was an identical match to the girl in his dreams. He also knew by the look on Maple’s face she had dreams about the dark man. He just didn’t know if she was having the dreams now, or if he was picking up on her dreams from fifty years ago.

  Her next words answered his question. “I haven’t seen him in fifty years. When the drought finally broke, he just disappeared from my dreams. I used to think he must have got on a bus and headed out of town.”

  Jar stated the absurd, “Maybe he left and now he’s come back.” The words were surreal, their utterance lending credibility to the impossible.

  Maple nodded her head. With a shaking hand she reached for her pack of cigarettes and shook one out of the pack. “How long have you been having your dreams?”

  Jar didn’t need to think about his answer, he responded quickly, but in a small voice. “Ever since Luke disappeared into the drainage pipe.”

  Maple nodded, and took another drag off her cigarette. “I read about that.” She blew the smoke out in a wispy cloud and said, “Lot of weird shit happening around this town.”

  “What happened back then? How did you make the heat go away?”

  Maple gave a quick snort, half laugh; half frustration. “Hell, I was only a kid, I couldn’t do anything. My daddy sure as hell didn’t listen to me about those dreams. He was too busy trying to save the ranch.”

  Jar was crushed. He needed more than confirmation he wasn’t insane. He needed a plan.

  Maple stubbed out the cigarette and stared down at the table unwilling to look the boy in the eye. “There was this one thing I never told anyone about.”

  Hopeful, Jar looked up. Maple’s eyes were distant as she started to tell her story.

  “Hell, I don’t even know if this is a real memory or just a delusional dream. I was only eight or nine, couldn’t have been much more because I know the heat kept on for at least another year after this incident. But I got it into my head to start digging. It was after a night of dreaming about the dark man. I just couldn’t shake the feeling he was real, and living somewhere beneath Junction. I went inside, and like a child, I took out a couple of tablespoons. Like they would have done the job. I mean there were several shovels right out there in the shed and I go in and get the smallest digging devices I could find. Maybe I was afraid I’d actually find something if I used a big shovel.

  Anyway, I’m out in the yard all day just digging away, in the blazing heat. I must have looked like a lobster. Didn’t have the sense to stop or drink water, I was possessed. And I was making progress. The hole was at least three feet deep when my daddy finally came home from the fields. I was down in it and I remember that earth was the first cool thing I had felt in years.

  My daddy found me on the verge of collapse,
those silver spoons clasped tightly in my hands. I was dehydrated, suffering from heat exhaustion and rambling about finding the dark man. I kept repeating, ‘Daddy, I have to keep digging, gotta stop the dark man.’ Hugh, my daddy was a tough man. Never saw him cry, not until that day. He thought he near lost me. I was in bed for almost two weeks after that day. Kep’ thrashing about, talking about the dark man.

  Once he knew I was going to live, I guess he thought I was gone in the mind. Every time he looked in on me, there was this sad look on his face, like he was already mourning. Like I had already passed on. The heat does wicked things to a person’s mind. I’ve seen people go nuts out here, I imagine so had my daddy.

  Years later, after the drought, I remember my daddy teasing me about that digging spree. He slapped his knee and said, ‘Hon, I just don’t know where you thought you were going to. There’s limestone under the dirt, you ain’t never gonna dig through limestone.’ He just thought that was the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard. Me, trying to dig through limestone.”

  Maple stopped talking and looked Jar in the eye for the first time. “You know what I learned later on? Where there’s limestone there’s usually limestone caves. Little pockets under the earth, sometimes, huge caverns. If he’s real, that’s where he is. He’s found himself a little mineral pocket under Junction, he’s got his fire going and until he’s good and ready to leave, we’ve got the heat.”

  *

  Curtis palmed the pig’s eye and said, very quietly, “Little girl, don’t even move.” He raised the rifle slowly to his shoulder and lined up the sights.

  Suzy froze. Her mouth was as dry as cotton and she could barely peel her top lip off her gum line. There wasn’t even enough saliva in her mouth to gulp in fear.

  Holding the gun steady, Curtis curled his right index finger around the trigger and slowly pulled it back.