When they reached the gravel
down-grade just above the makeshift trench, the tires on their bikes sank into
the loose terrain rendering forward progress extremely difficult. They had to get off of the bikes and walk
them.
“Why did they
dump all these pebbles right here in the middle of the road," asked Jan.
"I'm guessing it’s a washout
trench so the water doesn’t run straight down the road and wash it into the
river. Even with a new clutch in my
truck, the old girl is going to have a hell of a time yanking that camper back
up through this. We'll probably have to stop in town and have George put
another one in when we get it out of this carnival," he smiled; she
didn't.
Looking up at the four campers
parked above their site, Jan said, "Who in their right mind would drive by
one of these campers and think of purchasing it? On this road in this campground, mind
you. I mean, they don't look worthy of
dump storage." She looked at Brett who was pressing an erect forefinger
vertically to his puckering lips telling her to be quiet. He pointed down the
road to the entrance of their campsite. William was on the side of the road on
his knees with a bright aluminum bucket in front of him, facing a bunch of
bushes bearing fruit.
"Finally!
A berry picker!" Jan smiled.
They continued down the road,
past the trench, toward the entrance before William finally heard their
footsteps crunching on the loose gravel. He stood immediately, at least
attempted to, but a bit of arthritic stiffness stifled his effort. He had to rest his hand on his right knee and
regain his composure in order to stand all the way up. He looked a little
nervous, as if he'd just been caught with his zipper of his trousers down,
peeking in the girl’s locker room with his weenie out.
"Hi William," Brett said
suspiciously.
"Howdy. I’z
jess pickin’ some berries," he said picking up
the bucket and tilting it to show them. Less then a dozen berries lay on the
bottom of the bucket.
"Well... it looks like you
got a long way to go or you're eating what you're picking," said Jan
smiling.
This time it was Brett who didn't
smile. For that matter, neither did William. Jan's smiled faded quickly as she
saw Brett looking at William's hands. They were all scratched and swollen from
the thorny branches of the berry bushes. The wounds were mostly superficial,
but the scratches were fresh and blood made them redder and more noticeable.
There were more wounds on his hands then berries in his bucket.
"What's with all these
bushes anyways, William?" asked Brett. "Why don't you people clean
some of them up?"
"They were heah 'fore we was, Mr. Websta.
Every summer more and more grow wild and show up in all kinds of places. Most
the townfolk love 'em, so
no one bothas to get rid of
‘em.”
"But there are so
many," added Jan. William merely shrugged as if embarrassed.
"Where are all the townfolk anyways, William?" Brett mused.
"Most stay inside in this kinda heat. It's too much for most of 'em.
They'll be comin’ out shotly."
He looked at his watch and added, "Nights get real cool up heah in the foothills."
The way he said “they’ll be comin’ out shotly” sent a chill
down Brett's spine. Were they in a town of night dwelling vampires?
"Well,
happy picking, William. And watch those thorns," he said this
looking into William's eyes, not at his hands. William’s left eye stared back
as if lifeless in a yellow pool of puss. It was an evil, lying, lifeless eye,
Brett thought suddenly. William smiled,
this time full-blown embarrassed, saying nothing as Bret and Jan turned their
bikes and walked into the long entrance of their campsite.