Wildlife- Reckoning

by Jeff Menapace

  (Obviously, he’s back.)

  Why, though? Why come back to this?

  (It’s probably all he knows.)

  After years away at a nice school up north? That would be like returning to prison after you’re paroled.

  (Unless he liked prison. Maybe he never fit in at the school. Maybe he was counting the days until he was old enough to return.)

  Does that explain the tattoo? Something must have happened to him during his time away. Something dire enough for him to ink it on his arm. Ink it crudely, no less. Like a prison tattoo. Was my prison analogy somewhat apt? Did he feel as though the school up north was like prison? Perhaps. If he did, it might explain why he carries such a vengeful chip on his shoulder. What happened to him in “prison?”

  She took a leap. “What made you come back?”

  “What makes you think I left?” Travis said.

  “I did a lot of research on what happened. Court transcripts and whatnot said you were shipped to a nice school up north in exchange for your father’s testimony.”

  A grunt from the far corner of the den. An amused grunt.

  All heads turned towards Harlon. He’d been sitting off to the side like furniture, bothering no one. Now he wore a delighted smile on his face.

  “Something on your mind, Uncle Harlon?” Travis asked. He wore the angry and disbelieving face of a man who’d punished a child, only to hear the child talk back.

  Harlon continued to smile—not that he could do much else.

  Harlon. Stacey had placed him earlier, of course. He was supposed to be dead. From the looks of him now, she supposed he’d be better off as such.

  “See that useless thing over there?” Travis said to them, motioning to Harlon. “He’s one of the reasons I endured what I did.”

  Endured what? There’s clear animosity here. The other members of the family, they treat Harlon like an abused pet. Travis hates him. Stoke the fire.

  “Is he one of the marks on your arm, Travis?” Stacey asked.

  Travis, eyes staying on Harlon, said: “He sure as hell is. One of the more satisfying ones I made.”

  “Why? What did he do?”

  What does it matter? Your hunch was right. Travis is different. His reasons for being here are different. His mindset is different. And he’s still practically a kid. Get in his head.

  (Bryan is better at this kind of thing.)

  And what’s he doing right now? Everyone, for that matter. She looked at each of them. They resembled mental patients doped to the gills,

  (how great would that be?)

  staring blankly at nothing.

  You have to do it yourself.

  “He knows what he done,” Travis said.

  Harlon was grinning now.

  Travis stormed over to his chair. “Tell me what’s stopping me from tipping this chair over and stepping on your neck until you stop breathing,” he said.

  Harlon laughed, then coughed, his cough producing a mist of red, the wound from his tongue’s removal clearly not healed.

  “That’s what he wants,” Stacey said to Travis.

  Travis looked back at Stacey. “You can shut up now, lady.”

  Tread lightly…

  “The others…” She flicked her chin towards the porch again. “Did they betray you too?”

  He spun on her. “If they did, they’d be just as fixed as Harlon here.”

  Harlon said something. It came out like baby talk. He then laughed again.

  Travis clearly didn’t need to know what he’d said. His laughter, his grinning…

  Travis snatched Harlon, ripped him out of his chair, and tossed him to the floor. He pressed his boot into his throat. Harlon began to gurgle, yet still managed to grin, even managed to continue laughing between those gurgles. Travis pressed harder.

  “You’re giving him what he wants,” Stacey said.

  “Shut up!” Travis yelled at her.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Cooper said. He, Wayne, Trudy, and Darla filtered back into the den. “Travis, what are you doing?”

  “He was mocking me!”

  “He can’t even speak, son!” Cooper said.

  Travis took his boot off Harlon’s neck and faced Cooper. “She knows about me,” he said, throwing a finger back at Stacey. “Knows I didn’t go up north. Knows Harlon is one of the reasons I went to Hattenworth instead. Then Harlon started laughing my way!” He pressed his boot back onto Harlon’s neck.

  Cooper took Travis by the shoulders and pulled him off Harlon. Travis shrugged off Cooper’s hands and stayed close to Harlon, panting with rage.

  “How could she know that?” Cooper asked. He approached Stacey. “How could you know that?”

  “I didn’t,” Stacey said.

  “She was trying to trick me with fancy talk like that fucking lawyer tricked my daddy.”

  “That right?” Cooper asked her.

  Stacey shook her head. “Not at all.”

  “Bullshit!” Travis yelled.

  Cooper faced Travis. “Let it go, son,” he said. “Don’t let her spoil our fun. And don’t you let Harlon go spoiling our fun. You know how he can be.”

  “He needs to die for what he done,” Travis said. “He needs to be in hell.”

  “He is in hell, son. Look at him, for God’s sake.”

  “Needs to be sent good and proper. Just like all the rest.”

  “He’s family, Travis,” Wayne said. “We don’t kill our own. Them folks that wronged you at Hattenworth deserved to die, but we do not take the life of family, you hear?”

  Travis stormed out of the room.

  Stacey took mental notes on what she’d heard.

  Cooper hauled Harlon back into his chair. Harlon was still grinning. Cooper slapped Harlon hard. “Wipe that smile off your face right now, boy. We might not let him take your life, but you know damn well we’re not above letting him bring you close.”

  Harlon babbled something. It sounded like “Kill me.”

  Cooper ignored him and turned back to his family. “I think we need a drink.” He turned to the five chairs. “Who wants a drink?”

  Chapter 37

  Trudy emerged from the kitchen with more drinks. No shots this time, but full glasses.

  Travis had returned to the den. Trudy presented him the tray. “I think you need one most of all,” she said.

  “No thanks.”

  “Son,” Cooper said. “We’re about to start the next event. A big one. Have a drink.”

  “I don’t want one.”

  “Take it,” Wayne said. He was not friendly about it.

  Travis snatched a glass from the tray. The rest of the family followed suit. Trudy placed the remaining five glasses in front of each chair, one by one.

  Cooper said: “Couldn’t decide on a winner in the last event, so we’re calling it a wash until the next one.” He raised his glass. “To The Dangle!” he toasted.

  Darla screeched with delight. “We’re doing Dangle next?”

  “Sure are, baby girl.”

  She sprinted around the house singing “Dangle.”

  The family drank. Travis winced after his sip.

  Cooper spotted this and laughed. “Carries a bite, don’t it?”

  Travis didn’t reply.

  Cooper looked at Trudy and gestured with his drink towards Morgan. “Serve her first. She knows a thing or two about bites, yeah?”

  Trudy laughed.

  “Tell us if you reckon it bites harder than the gator that kissed your boyfriend, darling,” he said to Morgan.

  “Fuck you,” Morgan said softly. Her daze was not entirely gone, but a measure of her will had clearly surfaced.

  Trudy ignored her and brought the drink to Morgan’s lips. She clamped them shut and shook her head.

  Just as she’d done to Harlon earlier when removing his tongue, she calmly pinched Morgan’s nostrils shut and repeated the exact same words of: “I can wait.”

  However, unlike Harlon, Morgan was able
to thrash her head from side to side, breaking Trudy’s hold on her nose multiple times.

  Trudy looked back at Cooper, frustrated. “You think she’d want to drink.”

  “She’s right, young lady,” Cooper said to Morgan. “Not just for what you’ve endured, but for what you got ahead. Drink your drink.”

  “Fuck you. Fuck you and fuck you and fuck you.”

  “Fine,” Trudy said, taking the glass away. She turned to Cooper again. “I reckon we push The Dangle back and go to The Wade. I reckon she just volunteered as ‘The Bleeder.’”

  Cooper took a drink and considered it. Another sip of his drink and then: “Fair enough.”

  Darla moaned.

  “Hush, baby girl,” Cooper said. “We’ll be doing The Dangle after.” Then to Trudy: “Take all their drinks away.” He shook his head. “You try to be nice to some people…”

  Trudy took the five’s drinks to the kitchen and returned to the den.

  Cooper raised his glass again. “All right then,” he said. “To The Wade!”

  The family drank.

  “What’s The Wade?” Travis asked.

  “You’ll see, son,” Cooper replied. He said it like a playful father teasing his son about a birthday present. “Darla here’s partial to The Dangle, but The Wade happens to be my personal favorite. You never know who—or, should I say, what—is gonna show up.”

  Chapter 38

  The five were untied and taken from the house, down the bank, and towards the river. Every now and then, Leigh would struggle and cast wild eyes in all directions as though considering making a run for it, but Wayne and Cooper needed only to brandish their guns to change her mind.

  On the bank of the river now, lawn chairs set up and all family members occupying one, drinking heavily. Before them stood the five.

  “Real easy, this is,” Cooper said. He held a powerful flashlight, waving it back and forth between them. “You head into the river until you’re waist deep. After that, you wait.”

  It was Tommy who said: “Wait for what?”

  “You’ll see, boy. Go on, then.”

  The five exchanged looks and then slowly headed towards the river. They collectively paused before entering. Leigh turned back towards the family of chairs.

  “You want us to swim?” Leigh asked.

  “We want you to wade,” Cooper said. He brandished his gun. “First one out gets a hole in the head.”

  “Are you crazy?” Tommy said. “There could be anything in there.”

  Cooper laughed. “I think he’s grasped the idea of the game.”

  Wayne fired his pistol into the air. The echo of the explosion reverberated throughout the dark of the swamp.

  “Go on, now,” Wayne said, motioning towards the river with the gun. “Waist deep.”

  They began a slow march towards the river.

  “Wait,” Cooper said. “Damn near forgot.” He looked at Trudy and flicked his chin towards Morgan. “You say she’s The Bleeder?”

  Trudy nodded. Stood and approached Morgan, placing a gentle hand on her cheek. “Turn around, sweetheart,” she said.

  Morgan flinched away from her touch. “What?”

  Trudy motioned behind Morgan as though something unsavory lurked behind her. Morgan turned. Trudy pulled a knife, dropped, and slit the back of Morgan’s hamstring.

  Morgan cried out and dropped. The remaining four screamed in protest.

  Trudy hoisted Morgan back up by the collar and pushed her towards the river. “Get going, Bleeder.”

  Stacey and Leigh ran to Morgan’s aid, each taking an arm.

  “In you go, kids,” Cooper said. “Waist deep.”

  “You cut her on purpose,” Tommy said. “To attract…to attract things.”

  Cooper swigged hard on his drink, not caring that some of it spilled onto his shirt. “I do declare, he really does get the idea of the game.” He waved the gun back and forth between all five. “We’re waiting.” Then, nearly choking on his next swig from sudden laughter: “Waiting! Like ‘wading!’ Ha!”

  “How long until we’re allowed back to shore?” Stacey asked.

  “Well, that depends on you,” Wayne said. “First one out gets a bullet in the head. Last one out gets preferential treatment for the next event. How’s that for incentive?”

  “It’s no incentive at all, assholes,” Stacey said. “We’re all going to die anyway in your stupid show. In what fucking universe is that an incentive?”

  “Never underestimate the will to live, young lady,” Cooper said. He waved the flashlight towards the river. “Go on, now.”

  Chapter 39

  They crept towards the river, paused, and looked back. Collectively, their faces were those of kids being forced into the ocean for the first time by parents who adhered to the sink-or-swim philosophy of life.

  Wayne cocked his pistol and aimed it at them. “Tick tock, folks,” he said.

  “How long do we have to stay in?” Stacey asked again.

  “Until one of you runs out,” Wayne replied.

  “And if none of us do?”

  “Someone always does.” Wayne fired a bullet into the ground, a few feet from where they stood. Again, the explosion echoed all around them, this time triggering sounds of nightlife that made the task before them that much more excruciating.

  They waded into the river, Stacey and Leigh still flanking Morgan, helping her. Step by cautious step they went, pausing after each new inch of the black water swallowed a part of their legs. Before long they were waist deep, hands up throughout, never letting them touch the water, minimizing as much bait as possible.

  “That’s enough,” Cooper said. “Now we’d like you to wait. Talk amongst yourselves.”

  Their frightened eyes skittered in all directions, searching for any signs of something approaching, feet shifting from one foot to the other on the muddy riverbed underneath, never settling on one spot for long, never giving anything below a stationary target.

  Morgan was visibly shaking. Leigh pulled her close and whispered support to her.

  “See how long that lasts,” Cooper called to them.

  Leigh looked towards the embankment, towards the row of lawn chairs where they sat drinking and grinning, Trudy filming, Darla running circles around the row of chairs singing this and that. They might have been a family at the beach. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asked.

  “We take more than a few bets on this one,” Cooper replied. “To see who’s first out. To see who’s the last to stay…and to see who’s the first to betray The Bleeder.”

  “Betray The Bleeder?”

  “Well, he said it himself, didn’t he?” Cooper said, motioning to Tommy. “Blood will attract all kinds of things in the river. Hungry things. Best to keep away from such bait, wouldn’t you say?”

  “That’s not fair!” Trudy snapped at her father. “You can’t tell them that! You’ll make this one a wash as well, Daddy!”

  Cooper waved a hand at his daughter. “Oh, relax, pumpkin. Once they feel things poking at their legs, they’ll forget all about loyalty. Hell, it’s like you never done this before.”

  “Still…” Trudy said.

  Cooper waved another hand at her. “Wait and see, pumpkin.”

  ***

  Five minutes in the water. Every splash in the distance, every rustle or crack from nearby foliage spun heads. It was all so impossibly dark. The world around and beneath them.

  Stacey, despite her headstrong will indoors searching for a vulnerable window into Travis’s mind, might have been the most terrified of all. She recalled her fear of the film Jaws. How she refused to even go into swimming pools after. How, when she was a teenager, her friends used to climb fences in her neighborhood in the dead of night and go “pool hopping.” Slinking into the black water of neighbors’ pools after dark, giggling, seeing how many pools they could claim in a night. Stacey, refusing to get in, always offering to play “lookout.” There was something about the water at
night, despite knowing it contained nothing more dangerous than chlorine that might sting the eye.

  It was the inability to see what swam beneath you. That horrifying feeling of vulnerability for a clumsy species never meant to thrive in water. It was, she surmised, the bad acid trip of a man plagued with phobias, those phobias let loose with such a mind-altering substance.

  And wasn’t that what this was right now? Her acid trip, no drugs required? No—it was much worse. Acid trips were journeys—terrifying as they were—of the mind. You never truly went anywhere. The swimming pool was the same. A friend silently diving and tugging at your ankle was the worst you could expect. Here? Out in the black waters of the Everglades? With real, very real phobias lurking beneath them, possibly next to them at this precise moment, attracted to Morgan’s wound? Real. Very real. So real that she could not help but urinate in fear and—

  (What? Be the first one out? The first to get a bullet in the head? Or how about the first to betray Morgan? You’re standing right smack next to her, for Christ’s sake, holding her up. Might something down there not want to take a bite out of you just as much as her?)

  Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up.

  “I know y’all are probably worried about gators the most,” Cooper called from the bank, “but in my mind, it’s the snapping turtles that are the worst. Alligator snapping turtles, to be exact. Big as small cars, they are. Ornery as all hell too. Fella we know was wading in the shallows, noodling for catfish—oh, I’m sorry; noodling is when you go fishing for catfish with nothing but the hands God gave you—and he starts screaming bloody murder, brings his hand up with all but his thumb missing. Was an alligator snapping turtle that got him. One bite—whoop!—was all it took.”

  “Can’t be forgetting the cottonmouths, Coop,” Wayne added, attention staying amusedly on the group as he spoke. “Water moccasins. Only venomous water snake in all of Florida. Loves to lurk in the shallows. One nip is all it takes. Hell, I’d choose to go the way of your buddy Mick over getting a bite from one of them. I seen men bleed from the eyes after a good bite.”