The Last Slaughter by Ford Douglas

Author:Ford, Douglas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Vissaria County Dispatches
Published: 2024-01-12T00:00:00+00:00

Seven

Moments afterwards, she and John would circle the animal carefully, each with a lassoed rope in their respective hands, careful so as not to scare it away. Perhaps because of its youth, the pig showed no concern over their approach, nor did it wander off as she feared it would when they went looking for rope.

It had taken work to motivate John to come out of the house. Through the window, he observed the exchange between her and the deputy, and he met her with lamentations when she returned inside.

“Quit sniveling and come out here with me,” she said.

He denied sniveling, but Laura wouldn’t have it. She didn’t know when she would find it in her to forgive him for setting the fire, but that discussion would have to wait until they did something about the pig that wandered onto their property. His reaction to seeing it mirrored her own.

He said, “Could be others nearby, including its parents. I don’t care to feel the wrath of a wild boar.”

“Just find us some rope,” said Laura. “Ought to be some in the shed.”

“What about her?” They’d left the girl sitting inside. After the deputy’s visit, Laura only had more misgivings about what her son brought home, but she decided to keep them to herself for the time being. Something about the girl felt so wrong, and it gave her the heebie-jeebies when she said that she knew them.

“She’s not going anywhere,” Laura said, ignoring the premonition that came over her, the unsettling sense that they might eventually wish that she hadn’t entered their lives in the first place.

John found the two coiled lengths of rope, barely eight feet long each, but they would have to do. Miraculously, the pig made no effort to evade them, remaining fixed to the spot of ground it had chosen to gorge upon. Apparently, something bloomed in the earth where John’s blood spilled. The pig offered little objection when they led it away and tied it to an old fence post between the shed and the house. The whole thing struck them both as nothing short of miraculous.

Thinking of her conversation with the deputy, Laura said, “This animal follow you home from your little adventure?”

John shook his head, but his eyes looked faraway, lost in thought.

“Because,” Laura said, “they think you stole something from your father.”

“It’s her,” said John. “I rescued her. She was like you. A prisoner.”

That premonition again. “She’s not like me. I wasn’t a prisoner.”

“We should name the pig,” John said. “If we’re going to keep it. I vote for Pinky.”

She had to fight back the urge to slap him. She began to fret over how long they’d left the girl inside by herself. “Let’s get back in,” she said, and they left the pig alone and unnamed, but tethered at least, standing dumbly in the sun.

Inside, they found the girl’s seat empty.

“Maybe she slipped out through a window,” John said, and he marched toward the rear of the house, as if he planned to stop her from getting away.

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