Descent into Tartarus

by David Thompson

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  Dan took a seat next to Sargent Jim Cuero's cluttered desk in the detective's bullpen. Folders piled high on the gunmetal gray desk.

  "What's happening, Dan?" Jim asked. He sat back and settled his brown eyes on his friend. The day before, Jim had to arrest Dan's wife for a hit and run, and driving while intoxicated.

  "Rachel was arranged this morning. Her father already made bail, and she's in his house being monitored. Your friend filed the divorce papers already," Dan explained.

  "Good to hear. Will she fight it?"

  "Her father won't fight it, and she is her daddy's girl." Dan tried to smile, but it faded. "I just hope it doesn't hurt my career."

  "Well, that's more between you and your supervisor. Although, looking at your file, why don't you take the detective's exam? I have several openings, love to have a level-headed guy like you in my squad," Jim held up a file folder. "I also wanted to ask you what you had planned for the next few days. Seeing if you wanted to do a road trip to my land near Austin. Show you a little of the prettier parts of Texas. I need to head down there to set up the deer feeders and all. I have a small camper on the property, but no water or power, so it's like camping. Interested?"

  "Sure," Dan perked up. He wasn't looking forward to a long weekend alone in the city.

  "Tell you what, first thing in the morning, you drive on over to my place, and we'll head down. It's about a 3-hour drive to Austin, then another hour or so to my place, if we miss traffic," Jim grinned and handed Dan a slip of paper with his address. "Just grab a change of clothes, we'll only be there a day or so."

  "Fantastic," Dan said, grabbing the address, and standing. "Do I need anything like bug spray or a bed roll?"

  "I have some stuff you can use in the camper. Plus, we'll stop off to get some deer corn when we get close, and pick up anything we might need there." Jim leaned back in his chair and grinned. "We're camping, sure, but when I camp, it's in a trailer with real beds."

  The next morning saw Dan riding along in Jim's old GMC Jimmy, back end loaded with a few duffle bags and a rifle case, a box of ammo, and a cooler filled with beer and Gatorade. They headed towards Austin, taking Interstate 35. By mid-morning, they were near north Austin when Jim left the Interstate for a series of minor roads, all leading west and into the Texas Hill Country.

  They stopped in a small town called Dripping Springs to wander through a small general store. An old man in faded checkered shirt and jeans helped Jim pick out two bags of corn and showed Dan the aisle with bug sprays and other sundries. His name tag read "George". He was rail thin, dressed in a faded pair of bib overalls and a white T-shirt. Liver spots on his bald head, fine white hair combed every-which way. His forehead crinkled when he stopped and peered at the selection of bug repellents.

  "First time in this area?" George asked, standing close and smelling faintly of Old Spice mixed with chewing tobacco and whisky.

  "Yes, it is," Dan answered, looking at the three choices.

  The old man held up a bottle with a pink label.

  "Go with this," he suggested.

  "Skin softener? I need bug repellent," Dan said while looking at the label.

  "Works on mosquitoes, ticks, chiggers and most anything else. Best stuff I've ever tried. The wife gets it for the store every few months." George smiled and walked back to the front of the store.

  Dan looked at it and shrugged. He joined Jim at the front counter and looked at what he'd gathered: A small package in white butcher paper, a bag of charcoal, lighter fluid, a bag of beef jerky, and some sun block. He held up the white package. "Venison. George says it's from a recent road kill, the leanest meat you'll ever try, so I figure we can grill it up later."

  "Never had venison," Dan said as he sat the small bottle on the counter.

  Jim slapped him on the back, "Dan, you need to get out a bit more." He turned to George and smiled. "City boy."

  "So I gathered," George remarked, ringing up the purchases. "I'll get the kid to help you out with the corn."

  George then whistled loud enough to make Dan jump. A skinny boy, about 10, appeared from the back, black converse sneakers, brown hair cropped short, a baseball hat on backwards.

  "Here," Jim said, giving the boy the brown paper bag, then he lifted a bag of corn. "Dan?"

  Dan grabbed the other bag and followed his friend to the truck. He struggled on the stairs leading down from the gallery porch, then on to the back of the truck. He dropped the sack as Jim was setting his in the back. The boy looked at Dan, gave him the brown bag, then lifted the sack of corn like it was empty. The kid looked at Dan and smiled, then headed back inside.

  Jim aimed the truck to the blacktop and headed west. The sun was passing overhead, and the day was warming up when he swung the truck off the Ranch Road and onto a tiny, one lane paved road. They continued down this road until a small white caliche road appeared on the left. Jim left the paved road, stopped, and hopped out. He waved Dan out and began to unlock a small chain gate.

  "Wait until I get past, then close it up," Jim instructed and climbed back into the truck. He slowly pulled past the gate and stopped. Dan stretched the chain between two oak posts and locked it into the iron hook. He stopped and looked a minute.

  He marveled at all the short cedar trees, the land looked like a Christmas tree farm, with some taller oak trees scattered around. He went to the truck and climbed inside.

  "Man, it's really pretty, in a rustic way," Dan said as Jim started up. The truck kicked up a white cloud of dust as he drove back into the scrub oaks and cedars.

  The road narrowed and the dry tree limbs scraped down the sides of the truck. Dan watched as the tight copse of trees opened up into a small pasture, with a travel trailer parked almost dead center.

  "Welcome to Rancho Del Cuero," he said, stopping the truck a few feet away from the trailer. It was a short travel trailer, painted white with a green stripe. It was leveled on several piles of white limestone rocks, one of the most plentiful rocks in the area.

  Dan climbed out and just stood, looking around. A vast assortment of trees to the west, a brilliant blue sky, a series of small puffy clouds drifted along, vaguely moving east to west. Jim opened the back of the Jimmy and began pulling out the cooler and sacks of food.

  Dan grabbed a sack and followed Jim into the small trailer. It was hot and stuffy. Jim sat a sack on a small table and cranking a metal handle in the ceiling. A large window began to open in the roof. Then he cranked a few more windows open.

  "I'll fire up the generator and turn on the AC, charge the batteries. After sunset, it actually cools off out here. Not like in the city."

  "California also cools off at night."

  "Yeah? I bet the air is cleaner here," Jim smiled as he began to unpack the bags and he placed the food into a small pantry next to the kitchen area. "I'll fire up the generator, and we can use the refrigerator to store most everything."

  Jim headed back outside and went to the rear of the trailer. Dan followed and watched as Jim pulled a generator on wheels away from the trailer and yanked on the starter. It fired up after three pulls and started blowing blue smoke into the air.

  "Go and make sure the ice box is running," Jim asked.

  Dan ducked back inside the trailer and felt of the small refrigerator. It was vibrating. Inside, the light was on and he felt cool air flowing.

  Jim entered and began unpacking the ice and drinks from the cooler into the small refrigerator. "This will help it cool down."

  He straightened up and looked at Dan. "Feel like a walk after that drive?"

  "Sure! I need to change into my boots?" Dan asked.

  "I would. I've not seen a lot of snakes, but they're out there." Jim sat heavily on the small couch.

  Dan opened his duffel bag and pulled out some hiking boots that he'd had since he used to hike the mountains near Los Angeles. He sat next to Jim and untied his sneakers and wiggled his toes. He laced up the boots and started spraying the boots with the
skin softener. Jim handed him a small tin can, olive green with faded white stencils around the label.

  "Sprinkle this around the tops of your boots and socks. It's sulfur, keeps the nastier chiggers away."

  "I wanted to ask earlier, what's a chigger?" Dan began to dust his boots and socks with the yellow powder.

  "The tiniest son of a bitch bastard bug you'll ever encounter. Tiny, red bastards. They crawl into any crease, bite you and lay eggs, and the bites itch like hell." He stood and walked outside. He put his hands behind his back, waiting for Dan to join him.

  Dan walked out and just took in the scenery. Thick trees to his front, behind him was the pasture and dirt road leading back to the road. To his left, some hills in the distance, and the land sloped down to his right.

  "Over there is north," Jim said, pointing to the hill on the left. He started walking to the thick trees directly ahead. "I'll take you to where the first feeder is. I put them all along an old dirt road, so later we can drive to each one instead of hauling bags of corn."

  "What about snakes?" Dan asked. He was careful where he stepped.

  "Well, just step where I step, and if I step over a snake, it'll be mad and ready for you!" Jim laughed and stooped to walk under a thick cedar branch. "Watch your head."

  After about fifteen minutes, the trail opened out onto an old dirt road. Jim stopped and pointed at where the old road crossed a ditch. "See those ruts? Caused by old stage coaches. I'm told this road was the old Austin to Fredericksburg line, then it went on over to San Antonio. So those tracks were made by folks traveling back in the 1800s."

  Jim began walking up the road and towards a thicket and Dan spotted a black bucket hanging from a limb, with an odd metal rod with flags hanging down from the bucket. The bucket itself was painted black with some camouflage patterns, the metal rod with some flaps were painted brown.

  Jim untied the bucket, dropping it almost to the ground. "This is the first rig. Two more up the road and another past a wet-weather creek." He looked around and used his toe to point to some tracks. Several heart-shaped tracks in the dirt. The tracks were split down the middle and seemed to be of all sizes.

  "Deer," Jim said. He walked out from the trees a way, then kneeled down. "Huh. Something was chasing them."

  He stood and began following the trail. He stopped when the tracks went into a clump of dense, tall grass. "Whatever it was, it chased them into this area. I can't follow the tracks, that grass is too thick."

  Dan followed the tracks and looked into the dense clump of short cedar trees.

  "What type of tracks are these?" he asked, pointing at a huge paw print.

  Jim bent and frowned. "Dog, maybe." He stood and followed the tracks back, and around the feeder. "Yeah, come look at this."

  Dan walked, his eyes glued to the dirt.

  "Looks like a coyote." Jim was nodding his head. "Yeah, they'll kill off a few deer and chase the rest off the property."

  "What can you do?"

  Jim looked around. "On my land, and the coyote is a nuisance animal. Case closed. Good thing I brought the rifle."

  Jim headed back to the trailer. Dan followed, slower because he was busy staring at the ground, trying to find more tracks.

  That evening, Jim had the grill out and it was smoking as two venison steaks were cooking. They sat in sling chairs, sipping Shiner beer, enjoying the evening. The sun was setting behind the trees, the sky was lit up in a mixture of orange clouds, deep red sky turning violet to the east. Dan sighed and looked up to the sky. A very bright star appeared in the west.

  "Venus or Jupiter?" Dan asked.

  "Jupiter. Venus is the morning star this time of year." Jim stood and checked the steaks. He lifted the lid and poked at one with the tongs. "Bloody rare, or like leather?"

  "Somewhere in between." Dan answered and sipped his beer.

  "Then get your butt up and cook it. I only know two ways," Jim held out the tongs as Dan lifted himself up and looked at the grill.

  He poked one with the tongs. It left a deep dent. "Ok, so poke yourself in the cheek. Then the steak, if it feels the same, it's medium rare. Medium done is like poking your chin. Mine is just about there," he said, handing Jim the tongs.

  "Where'd you learn that?"

  "Worked my way through college working at a steak place in Westwood, west of downtown LA." He sipped his beer and went into the trailer.

  Jim touched a steak and then his cheek. Dan returned with two plates and sat them on a small table near the grill. He took the tongs and lifted one steak out and onto a plate. "Here you go."

  "Gracias," Jim said, returning to his chair.

  Dan gave him the plate and sat with him, pulling a fork out of his shirt pocket.

  They began eating, just enjoying the darkening skies.

  After dinner, all Dan did was sit and stare up into the sky. Millions of stars blazed across the sky. To his south, a large river of stars stretched across the sky. Jim handed Dan some binoculars. 10x70s.

  "I keep those out here, it's too bright in Dallas to see much of anything." He opened another beer and sat in his chair. "Tomorrow, let's head back to town, and find a coyote call. There might be several, and need them gone by fall, so the deer don't get run off."

  "Alright." Dan's eyes were glued to the binoculars. He was watching a satellite cross overhead.

  "I figure we'll look for a good ambush spot, hole up and use the call, see what we get."

  "Sounds good," Dan said, distracted.

  "Check out the owl," Jim whispered and pointed. Dan looked around and then at where Jim was aiming a finger. He put the binoculars to his eyes and brought the large owl into focus, outlined against the dark blue sky. All he could see was the silhouette. It dropped from the top of the tree and silently flew into down the landscape to his right and behind some trees.

  "Silent death to some small animal," Jim stood and shuffled back into the trailer.

  Dan yawned and got up as well. He went into the trailer as Jim was shutting the AC off and opening windows.

  "It's cool enough, don't you think?"

  Dan unexpectedly felt really sleepy. "Yeah," was all he managed as he sat the binoculars down and looked around.

  "Take the bed over there," Jim indicated a small bunk bed along the back of the trailer. "I'll sleep up in the overhang." Jim staggered to the small steps leading up and fell back onto the bed. In moments, he was snoring.

  Dan was out the minute he pulled the sheet up over himself after just taking off his boots.

  Dawn broke, and the sun hit the window above Dan's head, awakening him. He sat up and Jim was already outside, tending to a small fire in the grill. An old tin coffee pot was sitting over the fire. He stood in the doorway, stretching. He looked at the sun rising over the small hill. It was going to be a clear and hot day.

  "What say we head into town, grab some breakfast, and then see if old George has a coyote call," Jim said, picking up the coffee and grabbing some cups. He held out a cup to Dan. "Hope you like it plain and black, no sugar or cream inside."

  They returned to the trailer after a big breakfast of Heuvos Rancheros at a small café off the main road and buying a coyote call from George, who gave them instructions on how to work the animal call. Dan was looking at it and trying his hand at making it sound like a wounded rabbit.

  "That sounds pretty good, you're getting the hang of it. But stop now that we're here. Don't want those things coming up to the trailer."

  Later that morning, Jim took Dan to the other feeders, and they walked along the dry creek bed. There were a lot of tracks down the sandy areas. Jim paused and looked around. He pointed to a fifteen-foot tall cliff.

  "What I figure, we get into a spot up there, and start calling an hour after sunset. All these tracks tell me they're using this creek as a trail through the area." He started up the side of the cliff and stood looking the area over.

  Dan climbed up, pulling on a tree branch to get to the top. He looked where Jim was pointin
g with his chin. They had a nice view of the creek from both directions.

  "You use the call, and hold on to the spotlight. I'll handle the rifle. If we see anything, you light them up when I whisper I'm ready. Probably only get one shot." He continued to look and nodded.

  That evening, as the light was fading, Dan and Jim set up the ambush. They sat in the grass after making sure their pants were covered in sulfur. The light faded quickly and Jim whispered, "Let's give it an hour or so. So, get comfortable."

  Time passed. The Milky Way was well overhead when Jim whispered for Dan to start calling. The small noisemaker was loud and the tree frogs suddenly stopped making their noise.

  Dan would call a few times, then get quiet. Then a few more calls. An hour of working the call and nothing. Not a thing. No movement in the creek, no noise from the woods.

  Jim nodded and Dan started again. Call twice and wait. Silence. A few million tree frogs started up their loud mating calls.

  There was an odd noise from behind Dan. Almost a loud exhale. A cough. At the same time, both Dan and Jim turned. Dan snapped on the spotlight as Jim started to raise his rifle.

  The sudden light caught a large mountain lion tensing to jump. Its eyes went wide at the sudden light. Dan yelled and jumped, falling down the cliff. Jim dropped behind Dan, both running and yelling. A spray of gravel indicated the direction the cougar had taken in flight.

  They arrived at the trailer and ran inside. Jim shut the door and locked it. He was shaking as he cranked the windows all shut. Dan pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and sat on the couch, still shaking. He took a long swallow of beer and tried to breathe normally.

  "Goddamn," Jim said as he opened a beer.

  "I may be a city boy, but I don't think that was a coyote, Jim," Dan said.

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