LIW&B Chapter 5 (part two)

It was October and the morning air felt like it. Breath was visible but only through a cough or scream. Mel wrapped an old pair of his work boots around Happy's feet and had to tie the straps behind his calves to fit them securely. Their feet would be the most vulnerable. He couldn't take any chances. The junkyard lay vacant except for an old man, his son, and ten thousand rats.

Mel checked his watch as they entered the parking lot. They were behind his schedule by ten minutes. He wanted to leave at 4 and get a full hour of prime active rat time.

"Can I hold the flashlight?" Happy asked.
"Shhhh!" Mel said loudly. "You have to whisper! The rats will scatter if they hear us comin'!"
"OK," Happy whispered, "Can I hold the flashlight?"
Mel considered and handed it over. He couldn't deny such a simple pleasure.

Mel walked slowly, taking quiet steps. Happy followed the example. The junkyard consisted of a central road which entered from the highway and passed by Mel's trailer and extending two miles past to a dead end. Off this central gravel road were several branches of dirt roads that were bordered by high walls of garbage and junk. These were the junk rows. Mel had organized the entire yard by row numbers. Their trailer lay in a gap between rows 8 and 9. They were walking to row 15. There was always action in row 15.

Mel carried a rake and an steel sidewalk scraper. The blade could slice a rat in two and had done so in the past. Mel was ready for war. Now that he was on the march he wondered why he had worried. Happy bounced in bliss beside him, shining the flashlight in spinning circles at their feet.

The stars popped crisply in the clear sky. No wind blew and the world held silent as the hunting party entered row 15. As Mel figured, they heard scattering feet before they even turned the corner. Happy caught a rat in his flashlight about half a foot long. The excited boy broke into a run which the old man barely caught. He had to drop his scraper to grab his arm and grew furious at the danger.

"Goddamn it Happy!" he yelled in whisper, "These aren't puppies! These are rats and they'll bite you as sure as smell you. Stay by my side!"
"I'm sorry, Dad," Happy apologized.
"Whisper goddammit!" Mel scorned.
"I'm sorry," Happy whispered.
"Well, OK," Mel forgave, "I know you're all excited, but you can't be runnin' off. One of them rats will eat ya!"

Happy stepped back, shocked, "Eat me?"
"Yeah," Mel assured, "There's some big enough to eat a boy. Sure thing."
The look of excitement left his son's eyes and he tugged on his father's coat.
"I didn't know they could eat people," Happy whined, "Can they eat bears too?"
Realizing the box he opened, Mel slammed it shut.
"No they can't eat no damn bears!" Mel asserted quietly. "And those kind of rats ain't around here anyhow. They're in the jungle down in some other country."

Mel put his finger to his lips and pleaded, "Just keep quiet and hold that flashlight. Or else we ain't gonna catch no rats."
Happy nodded in agreement, "Yes, Daddy, I'll keep quiet."
Mel nodded back and moved forward. They scanned the rest of row 15 but it was too late. The commotion had driven all the rats away and alerted them all to their presence. And the traps in row 15 were empty, no rat, no bait. The rats were smart in row 15. This happened a lot. The first close encounter happened in row 17. The rats weren't as smart there.

Mel could hear the rat struggling before Happy turned the light on it. The old man shut his eyes for a second, bracing for the pain he would deliver. Happy would be taking a step toward manhood, more of a shove than a step.

The rat squealed when it sensed the humans. The rat was soiled black, gray if hosed off, about eight inches long without the tail, a sizable rat no one would want to face in the daylight. Happy cast the flashlight over it and pulled it away almost as fast.

"It's hurt, Daddy!" Happy whispered with dire concern.
Mel looked down and patted his shoulder. "Shine the light back on it, Happy. I know he's hurt."

Happy did as he was told. Mel stepped forward. "Stay there and keep the light on him," Mel instructed, "No matter how bad it gets."

The rat squealed louder and in frequent broken chirps. Mel felt certain he was calling for backup. Mel lifted the scraper and angled it above the rat. The rat knew what was coming. He let out a final scream to pierce their sleep. Mel heard Happy beginning to sob, but the light held steady. Mel held the scraper in both hands and jammed it down into the rat, the trap, the earth.

When the rat continued to struggle and shriek, Mel lifted the scraper again, less high and aimed into its neck. The shrieking and movement stopped. The flashlight fell.

"Happy, what are you doing?" Before Mel finished, the boy was at his side hugging his waist. The old man kept one hand on the scraper and put one on his son. "Happy, pick up the light!"
Mel felt real concern to leave themselves open and vulnerable, nothing life or death, but definitely nasty.

Happy buried his face in the old man's pant leg. Mel moved as gracefully as he could. He stepped over to the fallen flashlight and ordered Happy to pick it up. Happy didn't budge. The old man only felt his pant leg further dampen.

"Look, Happy," Mel explained, "I know it ain't pretty, but that's what huntin' is. You go out and kill things. There's nothin' else you can do. Otherwise these bastards would be fillin' up our house! I gotta set traps!"
Happy pulled his swollen face out of the pant leg and looked up, "You killed him! You cut his head off!"
"His back was broken! He was dead already!" Mel realized he was arguing in the dark. "Pick up the goddamn flashlight!" he yelled. Thousands of fleshy feet could be heard scurrying as Happy hopped down and grabbed the light.
Happy held the light back on the bloody mess that had been a struggling rat mere moments ago.

"Sure, I'd rather invite all these rats to climb in the back of my truck and take 'em all out into the country to live in a wide open field with berries and corn and all kinds of shit to eat," Mel continued, "But all these rats know is to eat and multiply. They ain't leavin' alive. There's just no way, Happy. This is all we can do."

Happy stood silent and held the light on the bloody body. Mel watched him. Happy didn't meet his gaze.
"You all right?" Mel asked. Happy didn't answer.
"You all right?" Mel repeated louder. This time Mel moved to the boy and put his arm around him. "I hate gettin' loud with you, Happy. I wanted this to be a better experience."

"I'm scared," Happy admitted.
"Scared? There ain't nothin' to be scared of. This rat's dead. That's the whole point. We kill them. They're scared of us!" Mel smiled, trying to rouse some cheer.
Happy look up and met his gaze. That was enough for Mel.

Mel pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket and walked back to the trap. This time he used the scraper as a crowbar to pry the lead clip off the rat's severed torso. He used his boot to push the corpse off the trap. Happy dropped the flashlight again when the clip slammed back down on the trap with a bang. This time he picked it up very quickly.

Mel held the bag with the body out for his son to take. Happy backed away until his father raised his tone.
"Take the bag, Happy!" Mel demanded, "It's something you have to do!"
Happy took the bag and shut his eyes tight, tears emerging from both.
Mel lowered his volume, "Open your eyes Happy. It'll get less scary."
Happy moved slowly, but Mel waited. Mel took the flashlight from the boy. All he held was the bag. Happy opened his eyes and looked downward to the sagging lifeless lump.

"It's dead," Mel comforted. "It can't hurt you."
Happy stood and eased. Mel grew warm with satisfaction. Happy stood quiet for a long time.

"I wish you didn't have to kill it," Happy finally broke.
Mel tensed with displeasure, but treaded carefully, "Yeah, I do too, Happy." Mel stepped forward and put an arm around his son, scanning their perimeter with the flashlight while he moved.
"I wish I could catch 'em all without hurtin' a thing, but they just ain't gonna sit for it."
Mel took the boy's hand and moved forward. Happy picked up the rake and followed.

They continued in the yard until sunrise, finding random corpses in traps, but none alive and struggling as the first trauma. Happy was quiet but willing. It was enough for Mel to continue taking Happy with him, not every day, but two or three times a week. Mel hoped the boy grew strong from the experience. He hoped it wouldn't leave a scar.