Cesspool (11 page)

Brittany read over his shoulder. “Why do you read all this depressin’ stuff?”

“I like to be aware, to know what’s coming.”

She sat back down across from him. “What’s comin’?”

He shut his laptop. “Nobody knows for sure. We can only talk in probabilities.”

“What does that mean?”

“When you’re talking about future events that are affected by millions of different factors, you can only estimate the likelihood of occurrence. You never know for sure.”

She frowned. “That still don’t make sense.”

“For example, what is the likelihood that I will die in a car accident on my way to class tonight?”

She glared at James. “I don’t even wanna think about somethin’ like that.”

“Bear with me. It’s a thought exercise. I’m a pretty good driver, if I do say so myself. There’s very little traffic on the way to work, and the weather’s good. All these factors lead me to believe that it’s very unlikely that I’ll die in a car accident tonight. But what if I was drunk, and there was a huge rainstorm, and the traffic was heavy?”

“It would be more likely.”

“Exactly. So, when I keep up with the news, I’m calculating the likelihood of various events.”

She furrowed her brow. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

“What do you think’s comin’?”

“There’s a lot to be concerned about, but the big problem, as I see it, is that we have an economy that has to grow or it falls apart, but we live in a world with limited resources. So here we have an economy that requires more of everything every year, but we live in a world that is becoming more and more polluted with less and less high-quality resources to go around.”

“So people end up with less.”

“Pretty much.”

She shrugged. “Seems to me that’s already happenin’.”

He nodded. “You’re right.”

“Is that why you came here?”

He sighed. “Partly maybe. Nothing was really holding me to northern Virginia. It was so expensive and crowded. Definitely not the place to be if you’re trying to live a more self-reliant lifestyle.”

“Is that what you’re tryin’ to do here? Live a self-reliant lifestyle?”

“I’ve been trying. I’m terrible at it. The best thing I’ve done is meet you.”

She smiled.

He continued, “You know things in nature like the back of your hand. It’s all unfamiliar territory for me.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you alive.”

He laughed. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

“We should prob’ly get more wood and food for the winter. Gram used to have a root cellar filled to the brim with stuff from the growin’ season. I’m surprised this cabin don’t have one.”

“It does.”

James removed the oversize doormat and showed Brittany the hatch. He opened it, led her into the cellar, and turned on the single bulb. She gazed at the boxes and fifty-gallon buckets on pallets.

“Food?” she asked.

“The boxes have freeze-dried meals,” he said. “The buckets have dried stuff, like rice and beans. It’s all vacuum-sealed. Should last twenty to thirty years.”

She nodded. “Are you gonna eat this stuff?”

“I hope not. It’s for emergencies.”

“Like a blizzard or a war or somethin’?”

“Anything that might stop the trucks from rolling. Our grocery stores operate on just-in-time inventory. If the trucks don’t run, we only have three days until the food runs out.”

James shut the hatch and covered it with the mat. “I’m going to check the mail,” he said.

He walked to the end of the driveway and grabbed a small stack of letters from the mailbox. He flipped through the letters as he strolled back to the cabin.
Shit
. He stopped in his tracks, looking at a return address—North Schuylkill Township Police. He hurried to the front porch and sat on the wooden bench. He opened the envelope, quickly scanning the typed page.

It was recently brought to the attention of the police department that the property you own or occupy is in violation of the North Schuylkill Township Ordinance, Chapter 10, Section 101, which covers the area of grass, weeds, and other vegetation. The ordinance addresses this area in part by indicating that grass, weeds, and other vegetation may not exceed six inches in height.

It is the responsibility of the owner or occupant of the property to trim, cut, or remove all grass, weeds, or other vegetation and maintain the property in that fashion. You will have seven days from the date listed above to complete the work, or the township may be obligated to take further action as outlined in the ordinance; this would include ongoing fines and possibly other appropriate action to bring the property into compliance, such as the township will cut the grass, and a lien will be placed against the property. This warning will be effective for three years from the date of this notice. No further warnings will be issued in regard to this ordinance, and future violations will result in a citation being filed.

I look forward to you complying with this request to avoid any future hardship. Should you have any questions, feel free to contact me at the above number.

Sincerely,

Chief Wade Strickland

James exhaled, shaking his head as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He glanced at the date:
10-26, three fucking days.
He heard a scream from the outhouse. James dropped the mail and ran around the cabin. Brittany came from the outhouse, a hand over her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” he said as he approached.

She had tears in her eyes. She pointed to the outhouse. “He was in there.”

James stepped to the wooden structure and opened the door like it was booby-trapped. A pair of ratty light-blue cotton panties were displayed on top of the right-hand toilet seat.
Whore
was scrawled across the cotton in black marker. The letters were jagged—all capitals, as if the epithet was screamed. James grabbed a mitt of toilet paper and carefully picked up the underwear. Crusty white stains were inside and out. He winced, shaking his head. He dropped the underwear, threw the toilet paper in the hole, and slammed the door as he exited the outhouse.

Brittany stood, frowning, with her arms over her chest. “He was in there,” she said.

“I know,” he replied, pulling out his cell phone.

James dialed 9-1-1.

“This is 9-1-1. What is your emergency?” a female said.

“Harold Strickland trespassed on my property, went into my outhouse, and left a semen-stained pair of underwear. He also wrote a threat on the underwear.”

“Is anyone in immediate danger?”

“I don’t think so.”

“An officer will be dispatched.”

“One more thing. Harold Strickland is related to an officer and the police chief here in North Schuylkill Township. So please do not dispatch a Strickland here. It’s an obvious conflict of interest.”

“Yes, sir.”

James and Brittany waited on the front porch of the cabin.

“This is so fucked,” James said as Officer Dale Strickland pulled his cruiser into the driveway. He turned to Brittany. “You should wait inside.”

James met Officer Strickland on the driveway.

“Mr. Fisher, what can I do for you?”

“Your uncle Harold left semen-stained women’s underwear in my outhouse.”

He nodded with a smirk. “No septic here?”

“No.”

He grinned for a split second. “Let’s take a look at them panties.”

James clenched his jaw and led the officer to the outhouse. The officer entered alone. After a minute he exited and asked James for a plastic bag. James retrieved a bag from the kitchen, and the officer placed the underwear in the bag.

“Did you touch ’em?” Officer Strickland asked.

“I picked them up with toilet paper,” James replied.

The officer nodded. “Did anyone see Harold on the property?”

“All you have to do is test the DNA that’s all over it.”

Officer Strickland glared, the sun reflecting off his shades. “And how do you know he put ’em there? Nobody saw him. There’s no law against bustin’ a load in some panties.”

James crossed his arms. “This is bullshit.”

The officer moved closer, making James take a step back. “I don’t think you understand how close to the edge you really are.”

James shook his head, his mouth shut tight.

“Since I’m here makin’ a house call,” the officer said, “we should talk about those code violations you got.”

“If weeds over six inches are illegal,” James said, “then you should stop by every house in township.”

Officer Strickland motioned toward the four-foot-tall plants against the cabin. “You don’t got a weed whacker?”

“That’s goosefoot. It’s not a weed. I eat the seeds and the leaves.”

Officer Strickland scowled. “I don’t give a shit what it is. If it’s not cut next time I come around, I
will
write you a citation.” He lifted his chin toward the outhouse and turned back to James. “And that outhouse … that’s against code. You’re gonna have to put in a septic system.”

James exhaled. “A bunch of houses around here have outhouses.”

“It’s legal for part time residents.”

“When I bought the place, nobody said anything about having to put in a septic.”

“Just ’cause you’re ignorant of the law don’t mean you don’t have to follow it.”

“How much time do I have to do this?”

“You’ll get a letter.” He brushed past James toward the driveway.

James entered the cabin. Brittany sat on the love seat with her knees pulled to her chest. She was blank-faced. He swiveled the recliner toward her and sat down.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She was unresponsive.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”

* * *

Brittany opened the door and climbed into the Ford pickup. She wore a jacket over her white polo shirt and black pants. James flipped on his headlights as he pulled out of the diner parking lot. He asked her about her first day of work.

Her face was expressionless. “I made eighty-eight dollars just from tips. I’ve never actually touched that much money.”

“That’s great,” James said, looking at her for a moment, then putting his focus back on the road. “You don’t seem happy about it.”

“I just keep thinkin’ about what happened today.”

James nodded, his eyes on the dark, empty road in front of him. “I know. Me too. And I think we need a security plan. I did tons of research today. I have a few ideas. The first thing I thought about was a gun.”

She looked at James. “Do you know how to shoot?”

“Do you?”

“No.”

“Me neither. But I’m sure I could take classes at a range or something, but I don’t think a gun’s the answer.” He glanced at her.

Her mouth was turned down. “Why not?”

“First of all, in this township over the past decade, once you adjust for the small population, you’re five times as likely to be killed by cops here than the rest of the country. And guess what the justification for killing was in over 70 percent of the deaths?”

“They said the person had a gun.”

He glanced at Brittany. “Bingo. So, if I bought a gun and used it in home defense against Harold, what do you think would happen?”

“Somethin’ bad.”

“Right. I’d be arrested or shot.”

She frowned. “You’re tellin’ me that we just do nothin’, hope for the best?”

“Not at all. I do have my Buck knife if he breaks in, but I’d rather avoid any confrontation altogether. To do that, I’m proposing we ‘detect, barricade, and evade.’ First, we have to know someone’s coming. Then we have to stop anyone from getting in or at least slow them down. And, in the unlikely event they do get in, we need an escape plan already in place that involves more than dashing out the back door.”

Chapter 10: Payback

Chapter 10

Payback

James widened the narrow trench across his driveway just enough to fit the magnetic sensor that looked like a pipe bomb. He dropped the coated wire in the trench and ran it across the driveway, through some brambles, and behind a tree. A black plastic box the size of a lunch pail was attached to the tree trunk. Brush and brambles camouflaged it. Thorns grabbed his sweatshirt as he connected the wire to the box. He kicked the earth back into the narrow trench, covering the wire. He grabbed the rake leaning against his truck and moved the gravel over the sensor.

He threw the rake in the truck bed and hiked up the driveway toward the cabin. Three trucks were parked haphazardly in front. A half-dozen men worked around the cabin. A fit young man cut window film. Another predrilled holes in the wood around the windows. The front door was off its hinges, leaning against the cabin. A pudgy man secured metal brackets into the door frame.

James moved to the backyard where a skid steer dumped small trees, brush, and the remnants of the outhouse into a stake-body truck. Browning Septic in faded vinyl lettering had been stuck to the doors of the truck. A tracked excavator sat idle off to the side. An older man stood against the cabin, supervising. His hair was snow white, his face grizzled. A paunch hung over his belt. James walked to him.

“You think we’re okay on space for the drain field?” James asked.

Sam Browning nodded. “I think we’ll be okay. Lucky your perc’s good.”

“What about the other thing? Think your guys can do it?”

He chuckled. “I’ve had some interesting jobs, but this one …” He shook his head. “This one takes the cake. We can definitely do it. That two-foot culvert pipe ain’t cheap though. Three hundred bucks per twenty-foot section. You’ll need four. We’re already here with the digger makin’ a mess, so you’ll save on setup and labor. How’s three grand sound?”

“Will it push you guys back, as far as the schedule?”

“It won’t make no difference. The excavatin’ guys will be the first done anyway. It’s the plumbers that’ll be busy.”