silence, and slipped under the bed, quiet as a mouse.
Martha reaches across, and taking Tammy's hand, leads her away from the
unfolding story.
It was the Groggin brothers. I later realized they'd
killed the other guests for target practice when they
came up from the fishing hole. Almost everyone went
there to escape the heat, you know. I saw them when I
went to the barn to get my bay - fishing poles and
fish in hand, laying there in blood and twisted in
agony. All dead.
Vacationers were walking toward the main house, fishing poles and a string of
fish in hand. They were gesturing and talking. One of the guests jerks
backward, blood on his face and neck, splattered all over his shirt front.
The others get a frantic look on their faces, jerking their heads around to
look in the direction of the shot, trying to discern what is happening. Netty
says,
I realized they were shooting everybody!
The Groggin brothers were downstairs, getting drunk and laughing about their
exploits. Netty lies trembling under the bed, not daring to move.
They were laughing about what they'd done. Laughing.
Talking about how people looked when the bullets hit,
how they reacted, the look on their faces. Then
they'd howl and carry on. I was sick, trembling so
hard I was afraid to move. I slipped under the bed,
lay there trying not to breath, not to move, not make
any sounds that could be heard.
The Groggin brothers now considered themselves masters of the resort they were never welcomed at. They swaggered around, putting their muddy boots up on the
stuffed furniture, and raiding the bar and tossing empty bottles at lamps and
vases. No phones, no law, and the brothers can do as they please.
.. more fun than moving weed ..
41
They moved room to room seeing what they could find, looking for valuables.
Netty says,
I held my breath when they came into my room, didn't
breathe, and they missed me.
Netty slipped down the stairs, cautiously, shoes in her hand and back to the
wall so she can see the main room before the Groggin brothers see her feet.
Later I slipped down the stairs when it got quiet.
They were asleep, drunk and snoring.
Netty is in the stables at the Clearwater Resort, heaving an English saddle
over the back of her big bay, a horse she has brought with her to the resort,
her favorite. She is seen stroking its ears after she slips the bit into its
mouth, talking to it.
I went to the barn and saddled my big bay. He follows
me like a baby after I pet him a bit. Quiet as a
mouse.
Netty leads her horse away from the stables, her free hand on the horses mouth
now and then, as though to quiet it. Netty leads the horse along a hedge, away
from the resort lodge.
I thought I had gotten away, had walked along the
hedge where they couldn't see me unless I mounted, and
I didn't mount to ride until beyond the trees there.
Then Netty is on her bay, cantering, while looking over her shoulder toward
the resort lodge.
But when I was riding away, I thought I saw something
move near the house. I figured I'd been seen. They
chased me, and there was no hiding as the Sun never
went down. I was the only witness to their crimes.
Netty glances around the group, and seeing all eyes on her, attentively,
continues.
I was the only living witness to their crimes, and
they weren't about to lose me. Dead women tell no
tales. But I think they were on a power trip too.
Their guns ruled, I guess. These guys are sadistic.
Once they got on top, no telling what they'd do.
Netty falls silent for a minute, putting the fear she felt away in that
compartment she never wanted to open again. Taking a deep breath, Netty
glances around the group to signal a change in the story. Netty walked her
bay along the bed of a stream, water up to her hips in places. Suddenly she
and the horse were thrown sideways, the horse’s legs up in the air and kicking
42
as it tries to right itself. She lands flat on her belly on the water, rises
up sputtering and coughing. Both unhurt.
I was lucky enough to be in Clearwater Creek when it
hit. I took a dunking, had the breath knocked out of
me when I landed, and when I came up all I saw were
kicking legs and splashing around. It was a good
thing I hadn't been riding. My bay was almost upside
down. There were hooves everywhere, but we were OK.
Netty pauses to pull the story together, piecing it together for herself at
the same time.
Apparently the Groggin brothers were drunk, loose as a
goose. Drunk drivers are always the ones to survive
the crash. That was like them.
Netty falls silent again, having reached the end of her story. Netty ends her
story with a question.
I wonder if this isn't happening all over ..
Not everyone around the campfire is silent, as Brian has begun giggling, but
this goes unnoticed by the others rapt with the stories being told. Brian
stares off into space, his face a mask, giggling softly though nothing seems
to be funny. Some of the repeated shocks to weak individuals show mental
illness setting in - Tammy, who develops symptoms of catatonic schizophrenia,
Brian, who says inappropriate things indicating he is seeing another reality
and is either hallucinating or delusional. Brian says,
.. Happening to the goats ..
Everyone stares at Brian quietly while he giggles softly to himself, looking
off into space, though nothing is funny.
_______________________________
The dim light of dawn shows Big Tom trudging back from the creek, a towel
thrown over his shoulder. He meets Red, who is sipping coffee at what serves
as the kitchen table now, both men alone as the others sleep in. Big Tom
glances up at the sky and then comments quietly to Red.
Seems like this cloud cover is never going to lift.
Red rubs the tips of his fingers together, examining them briefly.
I saw this when I was stationed in the Philippines –
some volcanoes have been burping, somewhere.