Masquerade in Blue by D.C.Brod

Author:D.C.Brod [Brod, D.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781440533242
Publisher: Tyrus Books
Published: 1991-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

LOOKING OUT OVER THE seventy-five acres that would soon be Forrester Prairie Industrial Park, I was reminded of growing up in DuPage County. My brothers and I spent a lot of time trekking through the marshes. Mom would yell at us when we came home with our dungarees soaked to the knees. Sometimes, to the delight of our mother, we brought home frogs or snakes. Actually, my brothers brought home the snakes. I never warmed up to them. And now, as then, marshes reminded me of a primeval landscape. It’s like slipping back via a time machine and getting a glimpse of the world a few billion years ago. And a million years from now, the buildings will be gone, the land reclaimed by the marshes. Like nothing had ever changed. The morning fog was burning off, but it was still hazy, and the marsh smelled of water and growing things. A shadow passed overhead and I looked up to see two Canada geese swooping in for a landing. I’d half-expected to see one of those pterodactyls gliding by. Maybe half-hoping. Yep, I’m the kind of guy who would sit all day on the banks of Loch Ness, waiting for the monster to pop his head up out of the water and wink at me.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

I shrugged and slid my hands into my jeans pockets, feeling the cool morning breeze on my bare arms. “Oh, I was just wondering what this is going to look like in a year.”

Elaine nodded, suddenly distracted by Peanuts. She was trying to convince him that being on a leash was not the worst thing that could happen to a dog. But he wasn’t buying it and kept trying to back his way out of the collar. “Have you ever considered obedience school?”

I looked at Peanuts whose eyes were imploring me to put a stop to this nonsense. “Not really. I don’t want to break his spirit.”

Elaine muttered something about maybe bending his spirit, and I turned to look out across the marsh again. No, it wasn’t the Grand Canyon or even the Ozarks. If you were looking for spectacular, you’d be disappointed. It was so distinctively Illinois. The one thing that continued to amaze me about the state was its flatness. Looking straight west I could believe there was nothing between me and the Mississippi River.

We had ignored the No Trespassing sign posted by Novotny and Associates and ventured into the controversial wetland. It was north of town, occupying a portion of the land between Route 41 and Ridgeland Road, Foxport’s far western boundary. There were other things I should have been doing, and I figured pretty soon my curiosity would be satisfied and I’d start doing them. But I was having trouble leaving, as though I were waiting for something, afraid that I’d just miss it.

It was a Saturday and it looked like no one was around. The bottoms of my jeans were wet and I could feel the water squishing in my shoes when I curled my toes.

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