by Inc. HDWP
I was okay with the whole deal, I guess. Course, I dint have much to say about it anyways. I’m a shy kinda person an Rufus can roll over me like one a them summer storms that come up the lake.
Anyways, it started out a good idea, this compostin thing. In fact, it got real popular real fast. There’re even a lotta companies that started up doin it: collectin the food scraps from restaurants an grocery stores an dumpin em inta these giant bins. There’re these micro-organisms -- invisible bugs, I guess -- that start workin on the big stuff, gettin it all heated up an broken down. Then those bug die from the heat an a new set come in an get workin on the stuff that’s smaller now. They get all heated up, too, an then they die.
An then the worms crawl in.
We thawt we were doin a good thing for the earth, makin more earth, considerin this climate change thing they bin talkin about on the news, an all. That thing worries me -- ice caps meltin an the ocean risin. Even though we live far enough from the coast, I worry bout when people start movin inland an we get too crowded in the middle.
On the news, they said that global warmin is man-made. Too many cars puttin out too much carbon an it floats up in the air an makes like a blanket over the earth. Too much blacktop an black roads that get heated up by the sun an the blanket up there holds that heat down, insteada lettin it escape inta space. All this heatin up is bound to do nobody any good, an it din't, it turns out.
Also, it turns out, it wan’t man-made.
Anyways. Rufus had himself three compost bins in the cellar an five a them scatterd roun the yard. One he put in the chicken pen cause chickens love worms an they need the protein to make good eggs. Fresh eggs is good eatin.
He dumpt not jus food scraps in the outside ones, but leafs an grass clippins. Then he stirred em all up an got things goin. Even in the dead a winter, those bins are warm, steam comin from em when he stirs em up.
“Your contributin to the heat, aincha?” I askt him once.
“Fer cripes sake, Sunny,” he said to me, lookin at me like I was a idiot. “It in’t enough it’d matter.”
He din't reckon on all that heat from millions a compost bins. Cause priddy soon, there was gonna be millions a compost bins.
Those bugs an worms, they need three things to grow: they need the dark, they need the moist, an they need the food. They got the dark from bein coverd in leafs an grass clippins, an from bein in the cellar. They got the moist from those ice caps meltin an rainin down on us. An they got the food from everone an everthin. An they started to grow. A lot.
* * *
I member seein on the news how people were finally gettin more concernd about how hot the world was now. The guy on the news said sine-tists were sayin the temperture had went up two degrees. He said in comparissin, the temperture durin the Ice Age was six degrees lower back then. So, I guess it doan take much to change stuff a lot.
The story went on to say the ice in Annartica was meltin faster an faster. They showd pichers a big hunks a ice fallin from ice cliffs. Then the news guy said they hadda story about what we, as ordinary people, coud do about this meltin.
Recycle, they said, an compost your scraps. Keep em outta the landfills. Doan drive your car if you can help it. Take the bus or ride a bike.
But then the news guy said it might already be too late. We might a hit the tippin point an there’s no returnin. Well, do whatcha can, I think. So, me an Rufus go see Mom with a can a Rufus’s dirt with the bugs an worms in it.
“I doan want worms in my cellar,” she told us. “I gotta compost bin out back a the garden. That’ll do.”
“But whatcha do in the winter with your scraps, Mom?”
“I jus put em in the garbage,” she said.
“That in’t right,” Rufus said. “You can do this all year roun. An the worms in’t gonna come up the stairs an eat you in your sleep. I swear it.”
Mom wan’t thrilld with it, but she said she’d go ahead an give it a try. Rufus got er one a those big Tupperware storage bins an drilld a few air holes in. Then Mom set to it with gusto. Once she decide to do somethin, she do it.
She dumpt in a buncha old shred-up newspapers an Rufus’s dirt. Then she started puttin in her food scraps an rakin it up so’s it got good an mixt aroun an wouden stink up the cellar.
It was workin out good, so good that she got her neighber up the road to do it. An then she got her church to do it on accounta ever Sunday, they had coffee hour after services. An sometimes they had dinners at the church hall. So they made a lotta food scraps.
Then it kinda spread like crazy. A lotta the folks in Mom’s church started doin it an ther neighbers an friens did it. Pretty much everone in the county started doin it.
One night, I saw on the news how all these other counties were startin up compostin services an some even makin it a law that you gotta compost all your food scraps. They even said they were gonna check the garbage cans. So, they mean business.
You’d think with all this compostin goin on, things’d get better, right? Like the earth woud start coolin down agin an the ice woud grow? Well, it din't. It just got a liddle bit warmer an a whole lot moister. The news guy said sine-tists spect it’ll all turn roun soon.
But it din't.
One day, I’m up havin a cuppa coffee an jus starin out the winda at the chickens scratchin aroun in ther pen. I din't sleep so good the night before on accounta I kep wakin myself up with my snorin. I member thinkin those chickens were havin a good ol time, scratchin an peckin like crazy in the stuff that was spillin outta the compost bin in ther pen. I notice then there was a lotta stuff spillin outta the bin, like it was jus about bustin at the seams. Then Rufus came up from the cellar an gave me that sour look a his as he close the cellar door.
“Mornin,” I said to him. He jus grunted. “Well, hell. Wha’d I do? Aside from snorin too loud, I mean.”
“You din't do nothin,” he said finally. “It’s my compost bins. Ther gettin outta control. I go down there an there’s worms an dirt everwhere.”
“So’s the one in the chicken pen,” I told him. He stared out at it a minnit, then he sat down in a chair an pulld off his slipper an sock. “My foot’s itchin,” he said by way of explainin. I gulpt when I saw what was goin on with it.
“Ther’s somethin eatin your foot,” I said, an my stomach did a summer-salt.
Rufus lookt at it closely. “Yup, ther is,” he said, kinda calm considerin there’s holes in his foot. “Dam an hell. That’s disgustin.”
“Well, getcher self to the dam doctor, why doncha?”
So he did.
But the doctor din't help much. He tried, sure. He gave Rufus some medicine to put on his foot, but whatever was eatin it seem to like it more. They ate up the medicine an they ate up Rufus’s foot. Then they got inta th’other one an ate that up, too.
Then they started on the rest a him.
Less you think I’m a bad wife, I did take him to the hospital when those things started on his other foot. The doctor there said a buncha big words, then he said “also known as flesh eating bacteria.” I knew bout that stuff. I heard it on the news a couple a years back. There were a buncha people that got it, then you din't hear about it any more. So, I guess this doctor thawt it was back.
I went to visit Rufus ever day, even though it hurt to watch him get ate up. When the bugs got to his brain, he din't know me no more, an I stopt comin to see him. No point in it. Sides, a woman can take only so much hurtin. I cried so much those last few days, I wouda dried up an blown away if it wan’t for all that moist in the air.
I noticed on my last visit that doctor got to limpin, an he wount tell me why. When I lef the hospital the last time, I see a lotta folks aroun there got to limpin an the waitin room was crammed full a folks.
It took bout a week an Rufus past away finally. The hospital cald me late in the night an lemme know. I asst about what I shoud do with his remains.
“Nothing,” the sad hospital lady said. “There’s not enough of him left to do
anything with. We’ll take care of it, Mrs. Idlewild. Don’t you worry.”
I was real grateful bout that, cause I had trouble believin Rufus was gone, all a sudden like that. I doan think I’da had the strength to set up a funeral an all.
A couple a days went by, I think. Mebbe it was a week or so. I just kep gettin up, eatin, feedin the chickens, then settin onna porch till it’s time to go back to bed agin.
Then, one day, there came a thawt inta my head. I han’t heard from Mom in a while. I cald her when Rufus past to let er know, but hadda leave a message on er machine. She han’t cald back yet, so I cald her agin. This time, it jus rang an rang, meanin her machine was full a messages. Now, I got worried an figgerd I better go see what’s up out there.
Mom lived by herself bout ten miles north a us in a liddle ranch kinda house in the middle a nowhere. So, it stands to reason I’d be worried bout her. Dad ran off years an years ago when I was jus a liddle girl. It finally got inta our heads he din't want anythin to do with us. We din't hear from him by the time I was gettin married to Rufus. Who needs someone like that, anyways.
I got in my truck an was half way to Mom’s place when somethin started to bug me. It was a nice day out for once -- the sun was tryin to shine through the clouds an almost makin it -- but there was no-one out doin stuff. There were no other cars on a road, either. There was plenny a deer, though. I hadda keep slowin down an stoppin for em when they came galumpin acrost the road. An there was one time when a couple a cows come runnin out an chaist my truck for a bit. So, that was somethin.
All this was unsettlin my guts, I tell you. An it din't do me any good when I get to Mom’s an her car is there, but when I knockt at the door, she din't anser. I found her spare key unner the rock next to the stoop an unlockt the door.
Dam an hell, it was stiflin in there. An quiet. Dead quiet. The hairs on my neck an arms stood right up an I tip-toed inta the livvin room. Mom din't have much in there -- jus a couch anna en-table on each end with lamps on em. There’s a low table acrost the room with a big-screen tv onnit an a rockin chair. There were dust fairies dancin in what sunlight was comin in the windas.
I started acrost the livvin room an down the dark hall tword where the bedroom an bathroom was. All a sudden I hear a croak behine me an I stop dead in my tracks, my hands pricklin, my heart thumpin. I turnd real slow an lookt behine me.
Jezuz. It was Beetriss, Mom’s cat.
She lookt at me an croakt agin. Beetriss can’t meow like a normal cat; she makes this rusty noise instead. She dunt look like a normal cat either. She’s missin a couple a teeth an her chest-bone sticks out like the front of a boat. She can beat you at a stare contest easy, too.
Beetriss walkt past me, then turnd to look at me like she was askin a question. I was shakin by now, but I followd her anyways, down the hall to the bathroom. She went right in, but I coud feel nastiness comin outta there. I stood there in the hall, starin till Beetriss came out agin an croakt at me. So, I got up my nerve an look aroun the edge a the doorway.
Dam an hell. I almos got sick right there on the hall floor.
What I saw was a skelton in the bathtub, a phone gript in the cage made by the finger bones a this skelton. There was a box a Epsom salts by the side a the tub. Beetriss jumpt up on the toilet tank next to the tub an croakt at me, starin like I had a anser for her.
I creept inta the room an took a closer look, my eyes wantin to be anywheres else but lookin at what was in that bathtub. I knew who it belongd to, without a dout. Coudn’t be anyone else.
Mom allwuz said Epsom salt cured everthin. But it din't cure this. She was eatin by somethin, prolly the same thing that ate my Rufus. Prolly the same thing that ate those chicken bones all that long time ago. Cause the bones a that skelton, jus like those chicken bones, they were all grey an hollow.
I beat it outta there, takin Beetriss with me.
After I lost Rufus an Mom, there din't seem no point in doin anythin. I kept on doin what I hadda do, though. I woud get up, feed the chickens, feed myself a liddle, then set an watch out the back winda till it was too dark to see out an I might as well go back to bed. I did that for a buncha days, then somethin finally changed.
* * *
One mornin those chickens were puttin up a fuss an woke me up before I usually got up. I draggd myself outta bed an went downstairs to see what was up with em. I grabbd Rufus’s shotgun onna way, jus in case. I din't have no shells for it, an I din't know how to shoot it anyway, but it coud do for a bat, I spose.
When I got outside to the chicken pen, I foun, to my suprise, three wimen chasin my chickens aroun an not havin much luck cetchin em.
“Stop it!” I hollerd, wavin the shotgun aroun. “Get outta there!”
The wimen froze up an stared at me a minnit. Then one put er hans up an said “Doan shoot!” Then they all put ther hans up.
They were all about my age, which was twenny-two. One had long brown hair, one had short black hair, an th’other one had medium black hair. They’re all skinny as hell.
“I woan shoot, but you gotta come outta there. Now.”
So they did, real slow. The long brown hair woman said, “I’m sorry, but we’re real hungry.” She was pleadin with me, her eyes all wide an scared lookin.
“I got food,” I said. “All you hadda do is knock, stead a chasin my chickens aroun.”
“We’re scared,” said the one with medium black hair. “We doan know what’s goin on.”
“Yeah,” the short black haird one said, her voice was shakin, “My mom an dad.” She shiverd an her eyes got big an tears spilt out. “They were jus skeltons. Thas all that was left.”
“I know,” I whispert. “Rufus, my husbin. At the hospital they said thas all that was left a him. An my mom. I found er myself.” I shiverd, too, then got my back straight agin. “But cryin’s not gonna bring em back, so, lissen. Less getcho some food an mebbe we can figger out what to do bout this.” All a sudden I’m thinkin I wasted enuff time settin aroun feelin sorry. It’s time to get movin for my feet take root an I up an die like th’others.
I had plenny a eggs an some apples an blackcaps from the cane all aroun the yard but, lookin at what was left in the pantry, I was gonna hafta make a decision soon. The lectricity went out some time ago an what meat I had left in the freezer I hadda toss out back. I hadda a couple a cannd tomatas left an some pears from last season, also.
Me an those wimen cookt up a good meal with the eggs an tomatas an such an then we sat aroun an tried to make sense of it all.
The long brown haird woman’s name was Franny, short black haird’s name was Sue-Lee, an medium black haird’s name was Natasha, of all things. I tolt em my name was Sunny, on accounta I was almos always smilin. Or usta, anyway.
Franny seemt to be the leader an she starts off first.
“I figger most everone’s dead,” she says straight off, not pickin er words or anythin. “An I keep thinkin we gotta go west, to the middle. I keep havin these dreams that everthin’ll be awright if we jus go to the middle.”
“Nn-kay,” I said, an th’others agreed. “We gotta pack up some food an stuff, though. I doan wanna get shot at for stealin someone else’s chickens.”
“Whaddabout we take your chickens?” Natasha said.
“Wadda we gonna feed ‘em on a road? We can’t lug chicken feed, too. I spect I’ll jus let em loose an fend for themselfs.”
“Kill em,” said Franny, but stopt. I think she realized the meat’ll jus spoil after a while.
“You gotta shotgun,” Sue-Lee said.
“No shells,” I anser.
“What kinda shotgun is it? We can get shells at the Mall, I bet,” said Sue-Lee. She mus be the brains a the group.
“I bet we coud,” I said an I got a sheet a paper an pen an we made a list a stuff we were bringin with us an stuff we were gonna need. Rufus an I had a lotta campin gear for when we went on vacation: a couple a backpacks, a two-man tent, some campin dishes an whatnot. I figgerd we coud ge
t what we din't have from the Mall.
“I wisht we hadda horse,” Sue-Lee said, “on accounta it woud be nice to have a pack animal.”
I lookt down at Beetriss an laught. “Too bad you int a bit bigger, Beetriss,” I said. She croakt at me. There was no question I was gonna bring er with us, by the way, jus in case that was a worry. She coud ride in my backpack an, if she din't, then she coud stay where she dropt. I wan’t about to worry too much about er. I din't have the warewithall to.
“What aboucher cars?” asst Natasha. “You outta gas or somethin?”
“I tried to start the cars th’other day,” I splaind. “They wouden start an when I opend up the hood to see what’s up, all a plastic an rubber stuff was ate away. Then I see how the metal’s gettin ate away, too. They’re like rustin, but in fast-forward.”
“Priddy useless, then,” said Sue-Lee. Member what I said bout her bein the brains a the outfit?
Anyways, we packt up all the campin gear I had layin about an some a the smaller can goods an a bunch a eggs, some sugar, flour, an such. I foun two rain parkas an an umbrella. That’d hafta do until we get to the Mall.
I let the chickens outta ther pen to fen for themselfs like I said, an off we went on foot. Turns out, Beetriss was okay with ridin in the top a my backpack.
It din't take moren half a day an we were at the Mall. On the way, it was spooky how no-one was about. There were some cars on a side a the road with skeltons behine the wheel, like the skeltons got tired a drivin an jus pulld over. Some were very small an sad skeltons in car seats in the back. I felt bad about the small ones. I allwuz wanned a baby, but it seemd Rufus wan’t capable of it. Or I wan’t. Either way, right then, I was glad I din't have one. Loozin Rufus an Mom was enuff for a while.
All a cars were gettin ate like mine, too. You coud almos see the metal disappear.
We saw some dogs runnin deer on a way. That’s awright; dogs gotta eat, too. An I rather they eat the deer then us. They were diffrent kindsa dogs: a couple a what lookt like Labs, a shaggy one that was a mutt, for sure, an a big ol Afgan houn. I’m sure they usta be somebuddy’s dogs, but now they were free. I felt kinda happy for em.