by Terry Bisson
It gets dark early in Charlotte, but it felt good to be down in the air. I unsealed the locks and let the dry night wind run through the cab. There used to be magnolia trees in Charlotte but that was before the Uplift. Now they were just street names, like the towns on Flat Mountain. We found Magnolia on my map, but first I took the kid and bought him supper.
The reason I bought his supper was, I kept remembering the Mexican who bought my meals all the way across Missouri and Oklahoma when I was just a kid. He said he used to hitch, and he even tried to give me a five when he dropped me off, but I shook my head and wouldn’t take it. The thing is, when he looked under his car seat later on, his pearl-handled revolver was gone. I sold it in Fort Worth for twenty dollars. I have always felt ashamed of that ever since.
The kid had two black eyes from the decompression but his throat was better, good enough for him to eat. He didn’t complain when I paid for his supper. Then I stopped at High Top Meat. I told the kid to wait in the truck. The night broker shook his head when I unwrapped the claw and he saw the tire marks. “Too bad, CD,” he said. “I can’t buy road kill unless it don’t look like road kill.”
“How about for dog food?” I said, and he gave me a five.
The kid looked nervous and asked how I’d done, and I lied. “Good,” I said. I gave him a twenty and told him it was half the money. He folded it and put it in his watch pocket with the ten.
Magnolia was one of those dirt streets with no sidewalks and little modular houses, all alike. Any one of them could have been his grandma’s house, or any one not. “Don’t turn in, I’ll get out here,” he said at the end of the street, gathering up his stuff in a hurry.
“Vaya con Dios,” I said.
“What’s that mean?”
“Means good luck finding your pa.” I never did find mine.
I slept eleven hours while my rig was serviced and loaded.
I was halfway up Flat Mountain the next day before it occurred to me to look in the glove compartment for my 9mm. Of course it was gone. I popped in Crystal Gayle and had to laugh.
PRESS ANN
WELCOME TO CASH-IN-A-FLASH
1324 LOCATIONS
TO SERVE YOU CITYWIDE
PLEASE INSERT YOUR CASH-IN-A-FLASH CARD
THANK YOU
NOW ENTER YOUR CASH-IN-A-FLASH NUMBER
THANK YOU
PLEASE SELECT DESIRED SERVICE—
• DEPOSIT
• WITHDRAWAL
• BALANCE
• WEATHER
“Weather?”
“What’s the problem, Em?”
“Since when do these things give the weather?”
“Maybe it’s some new thing. Just get the cash, it’s 6:22 and we’re going to be late.”
>WITHDRAWAL
THANK YOU
WITHDRAWAL FROM—
• SAVINGS
• CHECKING
• CREDIT LINE
• OTHER
>CHECKING
THANK YOU
PLEASE ENTER DESIRED AMOUNT—
• $20
• $60
• $100
• $200
>$60
FOR A MOVIE?
“Bruce, come over here and look at this.”
“Emily, it’s 6:26. The movie starts at 6:41.”
“How does the cash machine know we’re going to the movie?’
“What are you talking about? Are you mad because you have to get the money, Em? Can I help it if a machine ate my card?”
“Never mind. I’ll try it again.”
>60
$60 FOR A MOVIE?
“It just did it again.”
“Did what?”
“Bruce, come over here and look at this.”
“Sixty dollars for a movie?”
“I’m getting money for dinner, too. It is my birthday after all, even if I have to plan the entire party. Not to mention get the money to pay for it.”
“I can’t believe this. You’re mad at me because a machine ate my card.”
“Forget it. The point is, how does the cash machine know we’re going to a movie?”
“Emily, it’s 6:29. Just press Enter and let’s go.”
“Okay, okay.”
WHO IS THE GUY WITH THE WATCH?
• BOYFRIEND
• HUSBAND
• RELATIVE
• OTHER
“Bruce!”
“Emily, it’s 6:30. Just get the money and let’s go.”
“Now it’s asking me about you.”
“It’s 6:31!”
“Okay!”
>OTHER
“Excuse me, do you two mind if I—”
“Look, pal, there’s a problem with this machine. There’s another cash machine right down the street if you’re in such a goddamn hurry.”
“Bruce! Why be rude?”
“Forget it, he’s gone.”
HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMILY WOULD YOU LIKE—
• DEPOSIT
• WITHDRAWAL
• BALANCE
• WEATHER
“How does it know it’s my birthday?”
“Jesus, Em, it’s probably coded in your card or something. It is now 6:34 and in exactly seven minutes… What the hell is this? Weather?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“You’re not going to press it!”
“Why not?”
>WEATHER
THANK YOU
SELECT DESIRED CONDITIONS—
• COOL AND CLOUDY
• FAIR AND MILD
• LIGHT SNOW
• LIGHT RAIN
“Em, will you quit playing around!”
>LIGHT RAIN
“Rain? On your birthday?”
“Just a light rain. I just want to see if it works. We’re going to the movie anyway.”
“Not if we don’t get out of here.”
PERFECT MOVIE WEATHER
WOULD YOU LIKE—
• DEPOSIT
• WITHDRAWAL
• BALANCE
• POPCORN
“Em, this machine is seriously fucked up.”
“I know. I wonder if you get butter.”
“It’s 6:36. Just press Withdrawal and let’s get the hell out of here. We have five minutes until the movie starts.”
>WITHDRAWAL
THANK YOU
WITHDRAWAL FROM—
• SAVINGS
• CHECKING
• CREDIT LINE
• OTHER
“Excuse me. Are you two going to see Gilded Palace of Sin?”
“Shit. Look who’s back.”
“I was just at the theater and the newspaper had the times listed wrong. According to the box office, the movie starts at 6:45. So you have nine minutes.”
“I thought you were at the other machine.”
“There’s a line and I didn’t want to stand outside in the rain.”
“Rain? Bruce, look!”
“It’s just a light rain. But I’m wearing my good suit.”
>OTHER
“Emily, it’s 6:37 and you’re pressing Other?”
“Don’t you want to see what else this machine can do?”
“No!”
THANK YOU
CHOOSE OTHER ACCOUNT—
• ANDREW
• ANN
• BRUCE
“Who the hell are Andrew and Ann? And how the hell did my name get in there?”
“You told me the machine ate your card.”
“That was… another machine.”
“Excuse me. Ann is my fiancée. Well, was. Sort of. I thought.”
“Are you butting in again?”
“Wait! You must be—”
“Andrew. Andrew P. Claiborne the Third. You must be Emily. And he must be—”
“He’s Bruce. Don’t mind him if he’s a little uncouth.”
“Uncouth!”
>BRUCE
&n
bsp; “Hey, that’s my account, Emily. You don’t have any right to press Bruce!”
“Why not? You say you wanted to pay for dinner and the movie, but the machine ate your card. So let’s go for it.”
GO FOR IT, EMILY
PLEASE ENTER DESIRED AMOUNT——
• $20
• $60
• $100
• $200
>$60
SORRY. INSUFFICIENT FUNDS. WANT TO TRY FOR $20?
>$20
SORRY. INSUFFICIENT FUNDS. WOULD YOU LIKE A BALANCE CHECK?
“No!”
BRUCE'S BALANCE: $11.78
SURPRISED?
“Surprised? I’m furious! Some birthday celebration! You didn’t even have enough to pay for a movie, much less dinner! And you lied!”
“Excuse me, it’s your birthday? It’s my birthday too!”
“You stay out of this, Andrew, or whatever the fuck your name is.”
“Don’t be vulgar, Bruce. He has an absolutely perfect right to wish me a happy birthday.”
“He’s not wishing you a happy birthday, he’s butting into my life.”
“Allow me to wish you a very happy birthday, Emily.”
“And to you, Andrew, the very same.”
“Plus he’s an asshole!”
NO NAME CALLING PLEASE
WOULD YOU LIKE ANOTHER BALANCE CHECK?
• BRUCE
• EMILY
• ANDREW
• ANN
“I still don’t understand who Ann is.”
“My girlfriend. Sort of. She was supposed to meet me at the movie but she stood me up for the last time.”
“How terrible! On your birthday! Andrew, I know exactly how you feel.”
“As a matter of fact, you’re both a couple of assholes!”
NO NAME CALLING
PLEASE EMILY AND ANDREW,
PLEASE ALLOW ME TO TREAT YOU TO A BIRTHDAY DINNER AND A FILM
“A hundred dollars!”
“It says it’s treating us. Take it, Emily.”
“You take it, Andrew; I think the man should handle the money. And you can call me Em.”
“I can’t fucking believe this!”
“We’d better hurry. Excuse me, Bruce, old pal, do you have the time?”
“It’s 6:42. Asshole.”
“If we run we can catch the 6:45. Then, how about Sneeky Pete’s?”
“I love Tex-Mex!”
PLEASE REMOVE YOUR CARD
DON'T FORGET TO TRY THE BLACKENED FAJITAS
“You’re all three assholes! I can’t fucking believe this. She left with him!”
WELCOME TO CASH-IN-A-FLASH
1324 LOCATIONS
TO SERVE YOU CITYWIDE
PLEASE DON'T KICK THE MACHINE
“Go to hell!”
PLEASE INSERT YOUR CASH-IN-A-FLASH CARD
“Fuck you.”
GO AHEAD, BRUCE
WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO LOSE?
THANK YOU
IT WASN'T 'EATEN' AFTER ALL, WAS IT?
“You know it wasn’t. Asshole.”
NO NAME CALLING PLEASE
WOULD YOU LIKE—
• SYMPATHY
• REVENGE
• WEATHER
• ANN
“Excuse me.”
“Jesus, lady, quit banging on the door. I know it’s raining. Tough shit. I’m not going to let you in. This is a cash machine, not a homeless shelter. You’re supposed to have a card or something. What?”
“I said, shut up and press Ann.”
THE COON SUIT
I’m not much of a hunter and I don’t care for dogs. I was driving out Taylorsville Road in Oldharn County one Sunday, when I saw this bunch of pickups down in a hollow by a pond. My own old yellow and white ‘77 Ford half-ton was bought from a coon hunter, and it could have been the truck as much as me that slowed down to take a look.
Men were standing around the pickups, most of which had dog boxes in the beds. I saw a Xeroxed sign stapled to a telephone pole, and realized I had been seeing the same sign for a couple of miles along the road.
COON RUN, SUNDAY, CARPENTERS LAKE.
If this was Carpenters Lake, it was not much more than a pond. I could hear dogs barking. I pulled over to watch.
There was a cable running across the water. It ran from a pole where the trucks were parked into the trees on the other side of the pond. Hanging under it, like a cable car, was a wire cage. While I watched, two men took six or eight hounds out of the back of a half-ton Ford and down to the bank. The dogs were going wild and I could see why.
There was a coon in the cage. From where I was parked, up on the road, it was just a little black shape. It looked like a skunk or a big house cat. It was probably just my imagination, but I thought I could see the black eyes, panicky under the white mask, and the handlike feet plucking at the wire mesh.
A rope ran from the cage, through a pulley on a tree at the far end of the cable and back. A man pulled at the rope and the cage started across the cable, only three or four feet off the water. The men on the bank let the dogs go and they threw themselves into the pond. They were barking louder than ever, swimming under the cage as it was pulled in long slow jerks toward the woods on the other side.
My wife Katie tells me I’m a watcher, and it’s true I’d generally rather watch than do. I wasn’t even tempted to join the men by the pond, even though I probably knew one or two of them from the plant. I had a better view from up on the road. There was something fascinating and terrifying at the same time about the dogs splashing clumsily through the water (they don’t call it dog-paddling for nothing), looking up hungrily at the dark shape in the wire cage.
Once the cage was moving, the coon sat dead-still. He probably figured he had the situation under control. I could almost see the smirk on his face as he looked down at the dogs in the water, a sort of aviator look.
On the bank the men leaned against their trucks drinking beer and watching. They all wore versions of the same hat, drove versions of the same truck, and looked like versions of the same guy. Not that I think I’m better than them; I’m just not much of a hunter and don’t care for dogs. From the boxes in the truck beds, the other hounds waiting their turn set up a howl, a background harmony to the wild barking from the pond.
The situation wasn’t fair, though, because whenever the dogs fell behind, the man pulling the rope would stop pulling and let them catch up. While the cage was moving the coon was okay, but as soon as it stopped he would go crazy. He would jump from side to side, trying to get it going again, while the hounds paddled closer and closer. Dogs when they’re swimming are all jaws. Then the man would pull on the rope and the cage would take off again toward the trees on the other side, and I could almost see the coon get that smirk on his face again. That aviator look.
The second act of the drama began when the cage reached the tree at the end of the cable. The tree tripped the door and the coon dove out and hit the ground. In a flash he was gone, into the woods that ran up over the hill alongside the road. A few seconds later and the dogs were out of the water after him, the whole pack running like a yellow blur up the bank, shaking themselves as they ran, the water rising off their backs like a cloud of steam. Then they were gone into the trees too.
One of the pickups was already on its way up the road, presumably to follow. The guys in it looked at me kind of funny as they drove by, but I ignored them. Down by the pond the cage was being pulled back, six more dogs were being taken out of the trucks, and a man held a squirming gunnysack at arm’s length.
Another coon.
They put him into the cage and I should have left, since I was expected somewhere. But there was something interesting, or I guess fascinating is the word, about the whole business, and I had to see more. I drove a hundred yards up the road and stopped by the edge of the woods.
I got out of the truck.
The brush by the roadside was thick, but after I got into the woods thing
s opened up a little. It was mostly oak, gum, and hickory. I made my way down the slope toward the pond, walking quietly so I could listen. I could tell by the barking when the dogs hit the water. I could tell when the cage stopped, and when it started up again. It was all in the dogs’ voices. Through them, I could almost feel the coon’s terror when the cage stopped and his foolish arrogance when it started moving again.
Halfway down the hill I stopped in a little clearing at the foot of a big hollow beech. All around me were thick bushes, tangles of fallen limbs, and brush. The barking got louder and wilder and I knew the cage was reaching the cable’s end. There was a howl of rage, and I knew the coon was in the woods. I stood perfectly still. Soon I heard a sharp slithering sound and, without a warning, without stirring a leaf, the coon ran out of the bushes and straight at me. I was too startled to move. He ran almost right across my feet—a black and white blur—and was gone up the hill, into the bushes again. For a second I almost felt sorry for the dogs: how could they ever hope to catch such a creature?
