How’s the fall semester?”
“It’s going well. I’m teaching Modern American History and Ancient Greece at night. I have some nice kids. A lot of my summer school students from Current Events signed up with me again.”
“What about that problem student you were telling me about?”
“Kurt?”
“Yes.”
“Thankfully no. That’s one kid I was happy to see go. Every once in a while you get a kid who you just know is evil. It’s scary. I was afraid to give him the grade he deserved.”
“What did you give him?”
“A C-.”
“What did he deserve?”
“A C-, but I really don’t know what I would have done if he would’ve failed. I may have passed him to avoid any blowback. That kid gives me the creeps. Unfortunately, I still see him Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays.”
James removed the gas nozzle, placed it on the pump, and screwed on his gas cap.
“I thought you said he wasn’t in your class.”
“He’s not. I think he’s taking English Lit. He makes a point of staring at me as he walks by my class on the way to the parking lot.”
“Can I call you later? A patient just walked into my office.”
James drove from the gas station toward his cabin. He turned down the gravel road, admiring the scenery. Oaks, maples, and hickory trees displayed their fall color. Movement to his left diverted his attention from the October glory. James stopped his truck and rolled down his window. Again? If this is what goes on outside, I can only imagine what goes on inside.
He squinted through the trees that partially concealed their single-wide trailer. The young woman, her hand on her cheek, backed away from the porch and the middle-aged man. He had a salt-and-pepper beard with no mustache, like the Amish, but James was pretty sure the man wasn’t Amish. He said something inaudible and pointed to the ground in front of him. The small woman stepped toward the man, with her head down. As soon as she was within his reach, he grabbed her and forced her inside.
James exited his truck and crept toward the trailer. The same red Ford Ranger was parked in the driveway. He stopped and hid behind a large oak, one hundred feet away from the house. He listened. … Nothing. He returned to his truck.
James pulled into his driveway and carried two grocery bags to the front door. Two stacks of cardboard boxes sat on the front porch, with UPS shipping labels attached. He put away the groceries and carried the boxes inside one at a time. He placed them near the back door and pulled the oversize doormat from the floor, revealing a two-by-two square hatch. James grabbed the rope and pulled the hatch open. He carried the boxes down steep steps to the basement, where pallets were stacked with similar-looking boxes and fifty-gallon buckets.
He set them down and pulled a string on the solitary bulb. The ceiling was low, six feet. The walls were stone rubble, the floor dirt. One small window was near the top of the wall that faced the backyard. It was boarded up and covered from the outside with earth. He added the new boxes where he had space. Afterward he pulled the string on the light, shut the hatch, and covered it with the doormat.
He made lunch and turned on his laptop. He ate as he read.
Technology Is Slipping out of Control
Appalachia Walking Away from Coal
Soft Drink Makers in Decline
Taxpayers' Alliance: Cut Pensions
The Week in Energy: US Production Data a Farce
After a leisurely lunch, James walked out the front door and inspected his fruit trees. The trees looked smaller. Are they losing their leaves? He looked closer.
“God damn it,” he said, inspecting the jagged ends of the branches.
A couple trees had bark scraped off their trunks. He exhaled. That can’t be good . He pulled the hose from the reel and watered the trees. Then he pulled the hose to the garden near the driveway. The plants were wilted, yellowish, and stunted. Half of the tomatoes had dark spots on the bottom of the fruit. He took the
“It’s going well. I’m teaching Modern American History and Ancient Greece at night. I have some nice kids. A lot of my summer school students from Current Events signed up with me again.”
“What about that problem student you were telling me about?”
“Kurt?”
“Yes.”
“Thankfully no. That’s one kid I was happy to see go. Every once in a while you get a kid who you just know is evil. It’s scary. I was afraid to give him the grade he deserved.”
“What did you give him?”
“A C-.”
“What did he deserve?”
“A C-, but I really don’t know what I would have done if he would’ve failed. I may have passed him to avoid any blowback. That kid gives me the creeps. Unfortunately, I still see him Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays.”
James removed the gas nozzle, placed it on the pump, and screwed on his gas cap.
“I thought you said he wasn’t in your class.”
“He’s not. I think he’s taking English Lit. He makes a point of staring at me as he walks by my class on the way to the parking lot.”
“Can I call you later? A patient just walked into my office.”
James drove from the gas station toward his cabin. He turned down the gravel road, admiring the scenery. Oaks, maples, and hickory trees displayed their fall color. Movement to his left diverted his attention from the October glory. James stopped his truck and rolled down his window. Again? If this is what goes on outside, I can only imagine what goes on inside.
He squinted through the trees that partially concealed their single-wide trailer. The young woman, her hand on her cheek, backed away from the porch and the middle-aged man. He had a salt-and-pepper beard with no mustache, like the Amish, but James was pretty sure the man wasn’t Amish. He said something inaudible and pointed to the ground in front of him. The small woman stepped toward the man, with her head down. As soon as she was within his reach, he grabbed her and forced her inside.
James exited his truck and crept toward the trailer. The same red Ford Ranger was parked in the driveway. He stopped and hid behind a large oak, one hundred feet away from the house. He listened. … Nothing. He returned to his truck.
James pulled into his driveway and carried two grocery bags to the front door. Two stacks of cardboard boxes sat on the front porch, with UPS shipping labels attached. He put away the groceries and carried the boxes inside one at a time. He placed them near the back door and pulled the oversize doormat from the floor, revealing a two-by-two square hatch. James grabbed the rope and pulled the hatch open. He carried the boxes down steep steps to the basement, where pallets were stacked with similar-looking boxes and fifty-gallon buckets.
He set them down and pulled a string on the solitary bulb. The ceiling was low, six feet. The walls were stone rubble, the floor dirt. One small window was near the top of the wall that faced the backyard. It was boarded up and covered from the outside with earth. He added the new boxes where he had space. Afterward he pulled the string on the light, shut the hatch, and covered it with the doormat.
He made lunch and turned on his laptop. He ate as he read.
Technology Is Slipping out of Control
Appalachia Walking Away from Coal
Soft Drink Makers in Decline
Taxpayers' Alliance: Cut Pensions
The Week in Energy: US Production Data a Farce
After a leisurely lunch, James walked out the front door and inspected his fruit trees. The trees looked smaller. Are they losing their leaves? He looked closer.
“God damn it,” he said, inspecting the jagged ends of the branches.
A couple trees had bark scraped off their trunks. He exhaled. That can’t be good . He pulled the hose from the reel and watered the trees. Then he pulled the hose to the garden near the driveway. The plants were wilted, yellowish, and stunted. Half of the tomatoes had dark spots on the bottom of the fruit. He took the
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