Thomas Behnke

Prof. Walia Eng 302

9/19/19

When Matthew got to property the first thing he noticed was the driveway—rough gravel with great patches of bare dirt and tiny branches—stretched for what seemed like eternity in an obtusely curving bend to the right.  The main house was nowhere to be seen. Fifty feet in on the left was a huge elm tree with a sign that read THE NEELYS.  There were a few holes in the sign. Matthew was too much of a city boy to confirm with certainty they were bullet holes.

He stopped and rolled down the window to better hear anyone that might want to get his attention. Though the county said he had every right to be here on the property that wouldn’t help matters if people took his presence as somehow threatening, especially if he didn’t hear a warning or a greeting.

He eased his foot off the brake and settled into a snailish crawl that kept the spraying gravel to a minimum. According to his paperwork, the stables were on the western half of the property, which meant there had to be a fork going left somewhere along the path. He debated heading to the main house first, but that could just give the Neelys advance time to hide any sick animals and clean up the place. Back in his grandfather’s time, once an inspector was on the property what was done was done, but cellphones changed everything.

As he eased around the long bend a large pond materialized on his right. A long-legged white bird stared at him imperiously. Was that an egret? A heron? He needed Albert with him. The kid had an encyclopedia of fauna in his brain.

Just as he had put the pond in his rear view a shot rang out. He hit the brakes, skidding a little on the gravel. He instinctively put his hand up in a mime of surrender, but after a few long, shaky moments, he realized that wherever the shot came from, it wasn’t directed at him, and might not even be that close.

He was just about to start up again when he heard a male voice.

“Hello! How can I help you, Mister? You lost?”

In his rear view, Matthew saw a figure appear. Well, that isn’t exactly correct. The man loomed. He was huge, and as he got closer Matthew saw he was as dirty as he was big. His overalls were caked in mud, threadbare, and at least two sizes too short. His beard might as well have been a terrarium for all the leaves, and twigs and insects it housed.  He had on dark glasses and as he came up alongside Matthew’s truck he bent down to Matthew’s eye level and removed them. His pupils were pink, and it was then that Matthew noticed how starkly white the man was.

“You lost, Mister. This is private property. You bust the chain?”

“No, I’m sorry. What?

“You bust the chain across the path in the front? Where the sign is?”

“Uh, no. There wasn’t a chain. I’m sorry, who are you?”

“You the one trespassing, mister. Why I have to offer first?”

“I apologize. My name is Matthew Barker. I’m with the County Animal Control. I need to inspect the stables.”

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