You Will Have to Walk to Your Destination

WARNINGS: Horror themes, brief graphic descriptions, and some strong language.  Readers under 17 cautioned.

Rock 'n' Read

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Terry lived an hour down the highway from me, out in a rural patch of county.  One of those that wasn’t quite farmland territory, but remote enough that folks could have horses behind their slipshod fences, and chickens strutting around freely.  He’d just moved there, despite the protests and me and a few of our other friends, who didn’t see why he had to head so far out of the way.  His wife had a few things to do with it, I thought.  In a moment of transparency last April, Terry had told me that he was hoping the fresh air out in chicken-country would act as some kind of balm to their ailing marriage.  I hoped he was right.  Terry and I had known each other since grade school, and he was important to me, which meant his marital happiness was similarly important to me.

Still, I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t tried to steer him away from the move.  “Weird crap happens out in rural places,” I’d told him, recalling a tale of woe I’d heard about a pest exterminator who’d gone out on a call in a backwoods neighborhood similar to Terry’s new one.

“It was up near Boone, not far from where you’ll be,” I’d told him.  “They say the guy came back with a huge chunk bit out of his neck.  They say it was a human bite, too.  Bit by a person, man.”

“Horseshit,” Terry had said, chuckling through the phone.

The last few times I’d spoken to Terry had been over the phone.  We both had to work, and he had his marriage to save, so football nights weren’t a thing we could manage anymore.  I missed him.  So when he called on Thursday night to invite me down for a barbecue at his new house that weekend, it was all I could do not to jump in the car right then.  But I restrained myself until Saturday at six.

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(From Karnes, chapter 1.)

WARNINGS: Mentions of graphic violence and some strong language.  Readers under 17 cautioned.

Rock 'n' Read

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I have a tendency to kill people.  I don’t know who you are, reading this (you’re probably rude, because it’s rude to read a man’s journal).  But your rudeness aside, I believe I should make a real effort for us to get off on the right foot.  Honesty is a good way to do that.  Such a novel idea, honesty.  I like it.  I’m actually very honest with everyone, to be honest.  It’s just that I have all these other glaring faults, apparently, such as a tendency to kill people.

Lake Martin Field Observation Journal, Part 1

WARNINGS: Violent themes

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Confidential field journal of Dr. B. Zimmerman.

Lake Martin, Louisiana.

Day 1 of observation, 5/20/07

I set a trap for my swamp friend three days ago, and as of 7am this morning, he is at the mercy of my detainment.  It was nothing severe, since hurting him would be counterproductive on my part.  He swam into my underwater web of a net at top speed and had no idea how to untangle himself before I came along and pulled him into the motorboat.

My first discovery was that yes, he is a he.  The oddest thing happened as he lay tangled up on the boat while I steered it back to the cabin: his patches of greenish scales (which remind me of alligator skin) started to fade away until he was covered in normal human skin, as far as I could tell, from head to toe.  I started to fear he would rip through the net the more he struggled, so I gave him a shot of sedative, into his neck.  I dragged him into the mud room and locked him in - the door is deadlocked and I barred the only window last week, so it should hold him for now.

Yellowteeth

WARNINGS: Horror themes, graphic violence, and some strong language.  Readers under 17 strongly cautioned.

Rock 'n' Read

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“The mother crow then alights in the nest, and regurgitates the carrion into the beaks of her hungry chicks.”

“What are you watchin’?”

I clicked my phone screen black and started, looking up at the amused face of my coworker, Marty.  I scratched an eyebrow and laughed.

“We got a call?”

I’d worked for the local exterminator for barely a year.  By “local,” I mean Chamberlain Exterminators, LLC of Boone, North Carolina.  Our office building was really just on the outskirts of Boone, if I’m being technical, but we claimed ownership of the town anyhow.  Claiming corporate residence in a scenic mountain town helped business more than all the marketing in the world.

But although the flow of business was decent, there weren’t always calls enough in a week for each worker to get out of the office for a bit.  Property inspections were much more my element than pencil-pushing. I tended to get distracted and restless doing paperwork.  It made my eyes cross and sent me on rabbit trails, like watching videos of mother crows hacking up half-digested meat for their babies.