Jennings' Folly

by Thomas C. Stone

  “I can do all that.”

  “Shoot. You can’t stay awake past your bedtime.”

  “That’s not true! If I have a reason to stay awake, I can!”

  “Well, you’re too young to go.”

  “This is going in a circle.”

  “Oh! You wanted me to pick a number, right?”

  “Please.”

  “Then I guess I’d have to say no less than twelve.”

  I was a little surprised I was able to pin him down. Papaw had turned away, chuckling to himself, but when Pat said twelve, Papaw turned back. “That’s still too young,” he said.

  “Uncle Pat thinks twelve is all right if my skills are up to snuff.”

  “Pat doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

  Pat’s mouth dropped open. “Then why insist I give an answer?” he asked.

  “I thought you’d say something sensible for once. The odds were on my side, or so I thought, because you’re long overdue.”

  “Oh, is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  I interrupted the stage fight. “All right then,” I said, throwing my hands in the air. “It’s settled. When I’m twelve, I can go hunting with you.”

  Pat shrugged his shoulders and looked sheepishly at me as Papaw protested. “I might go along with sixteen,” he said to my back as I skipped away.

  *

  Another important addition to my education that gave me an advantage was my tutor, Kaliis.

  Not only was the alien knowledgeable in astrophysics and celestial mechanics, he also had an avid interest in all things political, whether it related to Tec’Lissir culture, human culture, or the dynamics of give and take there on Dreidel. Kaliis also turned out to be a splendid language teacher. Although the computer language modules were quite good, Kaliis reflected a spontaneity the computer could not provide and I ended up becoming proficient in Spanglish, Farsi, Portuguese, and Russian.

  At the end of a grueling language session with Kaliis when I was nine, I told him I was tired of learning. “I know enough already,” I announced. “From now on, we’ll do something different.”

  “Oh really? Pray tell, what will we do instead of your daily lessons?”

  “I don’t know. For one thing, we’ll be more spontaneous. For instance, tomorrow we’ll probably bake cookies. If I feel like it.”

  “And if you do not have the ingredients?”

  He had me there. Also, I realized he was leading me down a trail of persuasion. I just couldn’t spot it.

  I shrugged in answer to his question. “We’ll go get what we need.”

  “Where?”

  “At the gettin’ place.”

  “Where is that?”

  “I don’t know, but I can ask Papaw.”

  “Maybe he won’t be here to ask. Looks to me like there won’t be any cookies because you do not know how to make a plan.”

  “I do so.”

  “You do not. I think you need to continue your schooling.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re just like baked cookies that aren’t done yet.”

  “Soft and gooey?”

  “Head full of mush.”

  So maybe I wasn’t the best student, but like I said, I managed to pass. To Kaliis’ credit, he hung in there with me. Whenever he left to accompany Papaw on a hunting expedition, he would present me with my schedule of academic assignments. If I didn’t complete one, Kaliis squealed to Papaw and Papaw helped me to understand how important it was for me to do my schoolwork.

  His method was to substitute chores for academics. It usually went something like this: “Kaliis tells me you’re not doing the quantum algebra exercises.”

  “It’s hard. I don’t get it. It’s a waste of time.”

  “Just keep at it. You’ll get it.”

  “Nope. I’m done.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then daylight’s wasting. Can you do us a favor and get the barn swept? Phineas and Pat are planting today and we could sure use another hand.”

  As pleasing as that sounded to my nine year old ears, the reality of a full day’s work cannot set in until it is experienced. What we discovered was that, like the kitzloc hunt, I was not yet ready to perform grown-up work.

  That realization did not, however, deter me from pestering Pat and Papaw about going on hunts.

  “I thought we got that straightened out,” Papaw grumbled. “We’ll consider it when you’re sixteen – if you can shoot and you’ve done your homework!”

  I reminded Papaw we had originally agreed my case would be reviewed when I turned twelve.

  “Sure,” said Papaw, “we can review at twelve and agree to wait until sixteen to review again.”

  When Papaw got ornery like that, there wasn’t much anybody could do. Except for me. I had options. This particular time, I used the big gun, the nuclear selection. I cried.

  Not only does it work on Grandpaw every time, but I also end up getting bonuses. I still haven’t got the entire psychological angle worked out, but the bonuses are gifts over and above the original request because of the inherent insult in turning me down. So, there are two injuries to my psyche, not just one.

  Papaw put his hand atop my head. “No, come on, it’s not that big a deal. I was only playing.”

  “Here we go,” Uncle Pat muttered.

  “I’ll never get to go with you,” I said between sobs.

  “Now that’s not true. We’ll take you one of these days, maybe.”

  “Now you say maybe!”

  “I’m sorry. I meant to say I will take you when you’re old enough.”

  “When is that?” I sniffed.

  Papaw hedged again. “I don’t know…”

  “Twelve,” I said firmly.

  “She’s got to learn to shoot first,” Pat offered.

  “That’s right,” said Papaw. “That’s something we can get started on today.”

  And so it was I received my first proper firearms handling lesson. That day I fired a blaster, a shotgun, and my Papaw’s old Vimbacher. To keep from falling down from the recoil, I stood with my back against a tree.

  It was a fun day. To tell the truth, most days growing up on Dreidel were fun, even if I had to spend a number of them studying and reading.

  *

  Aunt Liza kept things together. She always seemed to know where everyone was and what they were doing. I think that’s because she was usually the one who sent them there. Liza ran things on the farm. With Uncle Pat and Papaw gone so much, it was only natural most of the day to day decisions were made by Liza.

  Liza didn’t get that first garden in the ground – Pat did, but Liza took it over and made sure we had fresh vegetables from then on. Later, when Papaw received livestock in trade, it was Liza who took care of them, teaching Phineas and I how to feed and maintain animals.

  Phineas had some experience but it was all new to me.

  Anyway, Liza was the one who got things done. The boys, Toby and Riley, were a handful and could have kept Aunt Liza busy full time if it weren’t for Phineas and me. Fortunately, there were always lots of things to do for the kids, especially through the long, Dreidelian summers.

  When we were certain Papaw had cleared all the kitzloc from the county, we turned our attention to the surrounding fields and woods as well as the creeks running through the property. Several places were wide and deep enough for swimming and we spent many a hot afternoon lounging in the cooling waters.

  The boys liked to fish. I was not so crazy about the pastime myself, but I did like to accompany them just to see what I could find.

  I remember one particular day when the water in the creek looked like glass. Ordinarily, I would have been able to pick out trout and perch and bass and species similar to crawfish back on Earth. Any number of aquatic breeds could be viewed, but just not on that particular day. I told Phineas it was boring.

  Phineas was stretched out on a patch of grass beside the cr
eek. He was holding a fishing pole but his hat was pulled over his eyes.

  “Sometimes fishing is supposed to be boring,” he replied without raising the hat.

  Riley and Toby had cut holders for their poles and the contraptions sat like tripods with strings dropping to the water. The boys were off exploring and I could hear them as they chased one another around a great elm tree. It wasn’t really an elm but Papaw told me that’s what it looked like.

  “I’m going for a walk,” I said. Phineas didn’t stir as I picked my way up the bank and then walked the opposite direction from where Toby and Riley played.

  Trees lined the creek, with alternating open fields and woods surrounding us. Not to say I could see clearly in all directions. The spring growth on Dreidel was rapid and full, much of it lasting the entire summer. It wasn’t even mid-summer yet, so there was plenty of vegetation to hide the landscape or what might be on the land.

  I explored up the side of the creek until reaching a tangled mass of old brush combined with the new season’s growth. Vines dangled from towering trunks, creating alternate avenues for the eyes. And why not? The path, what there was to it, was fully covered with no foreseeable way around, besides… my eyes wandered to the vines again. Stepping up and gaining a grip, I yanked on the thickest length of vine. It was secure, plenty strong enough for my slight frame.

  I pulled and shimmied myself up until I was well above the brush; however, at that point I could see the overgrown vegetation had covered old stones that appeared to be arranged in utilitarian patterns. Where there had been a mound of climbing vegetation before, now it was a covered structure of some sort, practically within jumping distance.

  From that moment, my sense of adventure pulled me in. The vine to which I clung was not flexible like a rope. It was, rather, more like a hanging root. All the same, with a little rocking and a little swaying, I got the vine moving back and forth enough so that I could finally step over onto what I figured was a plant covered roof. To my satisfaction, I stepped down through leaves and branches onto firm footing. Unfortunately, the second step was into space and I lost my single-handed grip on the vine. As I fell, the leaves and branches cradled my fall. It was more like jumping into a big net.

  When the leaves settled and I was certain I was not going to fall any further, I sat up and my booted feet felt solid ground. The light shined in from above and I wondered how long it had been since anyone had seen the inside of whatever the place was.

  It wasn’t a big structure, probably three meters to a side and it was old. The walls were made of large stone blocks, too large for one man to move alone. Another thing about the walls – they slanted inward. I looked up and imagined the intersecting lines and saw an ancient, albeit miniature, pyramid hidden away under the wild shrubbery on our farm.

  I had to call Phineas for fifteen minutes before all three showed up to help me. When we got home, Toby blurted out what we had found and he took the credit for finding it too. Uncle Pat wasn’t very interested but both Papaw and Kaliis were keen on seeing it so Phineas and I took them out to see it the next day.

  Neither Papaw nor Kaliis had ever seen anything quite like it before. After clearing away a wall of brush, we found an opening on the southern side, just large enough to crawl through. Inside was nothing but the accumulated clutter of leaves from the protecting tree above.

  Kaliis remarked that, at one time, the pyramid had a roof, a tip. “But it’s long gone now,” he added.

  All four of us climbed over that old ruin, removing foliage so we could see it better, clearing out the inside, looking closely at every surface for a sign of who had built it or maybe an indication as to what purpose the broken pyramid had. Surely it must have been important to whoever built it. Were sacrifices made there? Did ancient hunters seek shelter? Perhaps an alien shaman used the structure to gather personal power?

  It was a mystery Papaw and I discussed many times. As far as anyone knew, Dreidel had no indigenous sentient species. Never had, never would. That’s what the survey analysts said before they okayed the planet for colonization. I believe the survey report. I just don’t understand where our pyramid came from. Neither did anybody else.

  Chapter 11

  A wadded sheet of paper sailed across the room and bounced off my shoulder. I looked over the heads of a dozen or so students of varying ages to see Danny Doggett grinning at me. Danny’s older brother, Daryl, had been killed by a lizard around the time we arrived on Dreidel. Danny was also one of the boys with whom I built a snowman in Summit’s central courtyard so many years ago.

  I was in Summit again to view a presentation on land management. Aunt Liza should have been the one to go, but she refused and Papaw insisted I go because he couldn’t very well send Phineas.

  So there I was, fifteen years old and attending a meeting with men mostly three and four times my age. There were a few youngsters in the group, but not many. For sure, I was the youngest. Danny was probably the closest in age to me and he was two years older.

  Gathering my kit, I stood and stretched. Some men hung around the podium, asking questions of the speaker; all I wanted was to get out of there and back on the trail. Before I could make my exit, Danny cut me off.

  “What’s your hurry, Mandy?”

  “It’s a long ride home.”

  “Not in that walker of yours.”

  “It’s a strider, Danny.”

  “Yeah. Sorry. I always forget. But say, listen, why don’t you hang around? There’s a shindig at the new pavilion, starts at eight?”

  “Why, Danny Doggett, are you asking me on a date?”

  Danny blushed a deep red. His ginger-colored hair and freckles all seemed to combine.

  “Not exactly, I guess.”

  “Well then, what are you doing?”

  Danny was older than me, but he hemmed and hawed and started and stopped and stuttered to a start again. “I-I am-mam, uh, asking you to go with me, but the thing is, I’ve only got the one horse, you know, and no buggy.”

  “Kinda tough on the nightlife, huh?”

  “You got that right. So, what do you say?”

  I looked up at Danny’s dark eyes. He was tall, a good looking young man and most times, I’d have jumped at the chance to go. This time, however, was a different story.

  “Can’t, Danny, I’ve got plans.”

  “Oh? Some other guy?”

  “You might say that,” I told him. “I’m meeting Grandpaw where the old shoot meets the windward cliffs.”

  “Why? What’s up?”

  “We’re going hunting.”

  “For what?”

  “What do you think? Grandpaw says kitzloc are the only thing worth hunting.”

  “There’s no lizards around here anymore. Your grandpaw hunted ‘em out.”

  “Grandpaw says they come back stronger if you don’t go out and hunt ‘em down. Hey! I’ve an idea.”

  “What?”

  “Why don’t you come along with us?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Danny took a look at my kit. The military grade Vimbacher was barely concealed.

  “Jonah’s men are about,” Danny said. “You might want to hide that thing a little better. Mighty nice weapon,” he added.

  “So? Want to come along?”

  “I think I’ll have to pass.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  Danny shook his head.

  “You’re not scared of the lizards, are you? Grandpaw will take care of you. He’ll show you what to do. Why, I already know you can shoot.”

  “Well, yes, I am scared of lizards, but your Grandpaw’s pretty scary himself.”

  “He is not.”

  “Well, he is.”

  “Danny Doggett, Gary Jennings has done as much for this county as anyone you know…”

  “I’m not sayin’ Mr. Jennings hasn’t rid us of a terrible threat, I’m not sayin’ that at all!”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “I suppose I’m say
ing sometimes your Grandpaw’s not the easiest person to get along with.”

  My mouth dropped open. How could anyone say anything about my sweet old Grandpaw? Especially considering the thousands of lizards he had dispatched over the years. I shut my mouth before saying, “Danny, I need to tell you, you’re walking a fine line here.”

  Danny spread his hands. “I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just that sometimes you don’t know if Mr. Jennings is going to shoot you instead of the lizard.”

  “How can you say that? Why, Papaw’s killed more kitzloc than any man alive. That’s a fact and you know it.”

  “Mandy, I’m just sayin’ your grandpaw is getting on in years. He doesn’t see so well anymore. He can’t move like he used to.”

  “Well, he’s gotten old!” I blurted. Everything Danny said was true and that’s why I was suddenly getting mad at my friend: for stating the obvious. “Maybe it would be better if Grandpaw and I went alone.”

  Danny didn’t respond so I said I’d see him sometime and turned to leave. I was halfway across the courtyard, headed for the west gate, when Danny hollered at me. “Maybe I’ll ride out to the Folly this Sunday.”

  “Maybe I’ll be there.” I replied over my shoulder.

  *

  Papaw, Kaliis, and I were seventy-two kilometers from home, standing atop a mesa that commanded a clear view of the countryside for fifteen miles in every direction. Papaw looked out across the vista and turned his face into the wind. It was mid-afternoon and we’d taken one of Papaw’s newest toys, a two-seater ornithopter with an snap-on buggy seat for Kaliis, up to inspect the table top. Papaw breathed in the air.

  “Kitzloc have a keen sense of smell,” he said. “One of ‘em could stand on this here ridge and count the number of people between here and the horizon just by taking in the breeze.” Papaw looked at me kind of funny. “Did you ever wish you could do such a thing?”

  “It would be like having a super power. Like a hero in a video.” I adjusted the Vimbacher I carried on my back, a gift from Papaw for my fourteenth birthday.