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Both men laughed at that, concealing the sound of a second
pair of claws that slunk down a well-concealed hole beneath the pile of leaves.
Cletus bent down and picked up the dead animal by its tail. He had to hold his nose, as the thing stank to high
heaven. Jeb ran to the front door and flung it open. The temperature was dropping rapidly outside, but at least
the winter air smelled fresh and clean. Cletus flung the rat outside, where it would sit until they could start
a fire.
Both men were experienced outdoorsmen, so that was an easy enough task to accomplish. In a few minutes, the tiny
cabin and two pairs of ice-cold hands were warming nicely.
"That's better," Jeb sighed.
"Yep, a fire in the stove and dinner in the freezer. Just like home."
Jeb looked around the filthy, fetid cabin and merely nodded his head back and forth. There was no use in stating
the obvious: it wasn't anything like home. Still, when his eyes spotted the nearly full backpacks, his spirits
picked up considerably. The money would afford them an even bigger and better home. One without rats.
"Okay, Cletus. You skewer the varmint and I'll cook the damn thing. But let's make it quick. It might taste
like chicken, but it ain't."
"Deal, little brother," he said as he got up and retrieved the nearly frozen rat. He found a large enough
stick outside and stuck it through the hole his boot had created in the animal. He then handed it to Jeb. "Shish-kee-bob,"
he said, with a forced smile. Jeb's stomach lurched, but he knew it was either eat it or starve, so he cooked it
without looking or commenting.
The meal, at least, was filling if not completely repugnant, and with the fire newly stoked, the brothers settled
in for the night. The day's activities had completely exhausted them, so, not surprisingly, they fell asleep almost
as soon as their heads hit the moldy mattresses. Their solitude was not to last for very long.
From deep within their troubled sleep they were suddenly and simultaneously awakened by a scurrying noise beneath
their cots.
"Sounds like our dinner had a mate," Cletus said with a stifled yawn.
"Or mates," Jeb replied, for clearly there were more than one pair of claws scampering across the floorboards.
"Breakfast," Cletus said. "And lunch. This here cabin is better than the Piggly Wiggly. One stop
shopping."
His brother's humor did little to relax Jeb. Sleep was now out of the question. Instead, he lay rigidly in bed
and kept his hands tucked safely inside his pants. Each claw scratch he heard sent a chill up his spine. He was,
therefore, amazed when he heard his brother's raspy snore.
"How can anyone sleep through this?" he said, in a whisper. Then again, Cletus wasn't just anyone. Jeb
knew full well that very little riled his older brother. "Pleasant dreams," he said as he stared into
the blackness.
Unfortunately, the darkness did nothing to blanket the noise. Jeb's astute hearing heard every scratch, every squeak,
every whisker that rubbed against wood, and every moan and groan from the floorboards as the rats darted about.
Clearly, the cabin had prior tenants that weren't moving out anytime soon.
By the time dawn spread it's rays through the cracks in the walls, Jed had barely slept for more than a minute
straight. Cletus, on the other hand, woke with a loud snort and a massive, satisfied yawn.
"Morning, little brother," he said. "Sleep well?"
"Not hardly, Cletus. We got ourselves a bit of an infestation problem. Seems the Orkin man missed this place."
"Off his route, I suppose."
The brothers rose from their shaky beds. Each stretched and scratched before responding to their gurgling stomachs.
"I'm starvin', Cletus. And I ain't about to eat no rat pancakes for breakfast. Maybe we can rustle us up some
wild berries or something."
"Sounds like a plan," Cletus replied as he walked across the floor to the front door. He wasn't prepared
for what he found when he opened it. "Um, Jeb?"
"Yeah, Cletus."
"You catch the weather forecast yesterday?"
"When? Before we robbed that bank or after you smashed that sheriff's brains in?"
"Either one."
"Nope, big brother. Why you ask?"
"'Cause I think we was hit with a snow storm last night."
Jeb ran to the door and was temporarily blinded by the glaring snowdrifts. The entire landscape was utterly blanketed
in pure, white snow. Had the consequences not been so dire, it might have been a beautiful sight to behold. Instead,
it terrified him to the core.
"Look on the bright side, little brother: rats are high in protein and low in fat."
"That ain't no bright side, Cletus. There ain't nothing but dark sides here."
Cletus reached into the backpack to his immediate left. "How about this for a bright side then?" he asked
as he retrieved a stack of bills a half a foot thick and then shoved it under his brother's nose.
"I done seen the light, big brother," Jeb replied.
"Amen," Cletus said, and then stuffed the wad of cash back inside. "Now let's go hunt us up some
breakfast."
Breakfast, as it turned out, wasn't too difficult to come by. Neither was lunch or dinner, for that matter. The
rats, it seemed, were everywhere they looked, and each one was larger than the first. If they could stomach it
for a week or two, they figured, they'd be in the clear. Their prey, after all, was big and meaty, and, when they
closed their eyes and tried to imagine it, did indeed taste like chicken. Wingless, featherless, beakless chicken.
The day stretched endlessly and monotonously on, but even on a full stomach Jeb had a hard time sleeping through
the night. Dozens upon dozens of sharp claws scratched and scuttled beneath his bed. And, same as the night before,
Cletus was annoyingly oblivious. He snored just as he did when they were in their own home. "God I hate you,
big brother," Jeb whispered, as he lay there wide-awake and miserable.
By morning they had a new problem to contend with.
For more, visit the Author's Web Site at: TheRobRosen.com
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