A Wave From Mama

Chapter 6: An Offering for Mama

Chapter 6

An Offering for Mama

SOON AFTER SUNDOWN, Vent made his daily trek into the nearby woods. He loved the sounds of crickets and the soft songs of the few nocturnal birds that practiced their vocals at this late hour. The woods always seemed like home to Vent—he remembered the time spent with his mama camped out in the woods of Virginia until their contact arrived to take them up north. Mama kept talking about the joy of being free, but to Vent the woods already provided freedom—he wondered why his mama wanted to keep running. Every time he offered a suggestion along those lines, his mother responded, “Fool boy, civ’lized people don’t live like animals in the woods,” which made Vent wonder what civ’lized meant, and whether it was something he wanted to be.

After thirty minutes of dedicated work, five traps were set—all in their regular locations. Vent climbed a tree, which sat in the approximate center of the traps, so he would be close to the action. The lack of light made observation difficult, but the devils only came out at night, which gave Vent little choice as to when to do his hunting.

A loud clanking sound—rock on rock—signaled the first action of the evening and the squeal provided evidence of success. Fifteen minutes later, the second clanking sound, followed soon thereafter by the third, fourth, and fifth—so closely grouped, they almost appeared to be simultaneous. Tonight, Vent achieved his quota in record time. The daily goal, five kills, because after ten nights, fifty would be dead—this seemed like a good number of devils to rid the world of. How many more could there possibly be? But after twenty nights and almost one hundred successes, there didn’t seem to be an end in sight.

Vent climbed down from his perch in the tree and visited the first trap. Much to his surprise, the trap held an injured squirrel rather than a dead raccoon. Some nuts in close vicinity to the raccoon meat he left as bait provided the attraction. Accidents did happen from time to time. He didn’t mean to catch the injured squirrel, and spoke softly to the animal, “Look at my eyes, and it will all be over in a second.” The squirrel complied and as their eyes met, Vent slit the animal’s throat, and dug a shallow grave for his mistaken kill.

On to his second trap. This one contained a dead raccoon, with a piece of the bait protruding from its mouth. An enraged Vent stabbed the already dead animal to ensure the absence of life. Vent dropped the devil into an empty burlap bag. The third trap contained an incapacitated raccoon; Vent flashed his knife as he taunted the animal. “See this knife? Imagine the pain when I dig it into your body. Any animal that eats its own doesn’t deserve to live.” His speech complete, he waited for the raccoon to comply, but the animal’s eyes never opened—devils were often uncooperative. His knife began to dig, and the second dead raccoon joined the first in the burlap bag.

The fourth trap contained another squirrel, which was afforded a merciful death, but the fifth, another devil, which took its fatal stabs after hearing Vent’s words of admonition. Three dead raccoons now rested in Vent’s burlap sack.

The clearing reminded Vent of the camp he and his mom stayed in while in Virginia. He lay down on the ground—burlap sack at his side, and admired the stars as he began his conversation. “Mama, you said they wouldn’t kill you. You were wrong, but don’t you worry, I’m going to get them all. Until I do, I offer you these raccoons, which are the lowest of low. These raccoons are in honor of you, Mama.”

Vent started a fire and threw his burlap bag into the blaze. He counted by threes, fours, and then fives. By the time he got to sixes, all that remained was ash and his night’s work was done.