The Death of a Character by David Ohle

Author:David Ohle
Format: epub

JUNE

THE DROUGHT EASED EVENTUALLY, followed by morning rains and afternoons of gentle sun. Wheaton, out collecting herbs and wild roots one morning, nearly stepped on an old cow patty, then saw there were two stalks of biomass growing from it. He knew what mushrooms were in a definitional, schoolbook way, but had never seen one before now. They were pretty, he thought, and decided to dry them and make a tea for Moldenke. When he uprooted the mushrooms, clumps of old cow dung clung to the shallow roots. He shook that off and put them in his pocket.

When he returned to the cabin, he found Bertie and Moldenke trying on the clothes he had brought them from the thrift store in Ainsley. With difficulty, Moldenke pulled on a pair of wide-wale corduroy pants that were a little too large for him.

Wheaton said, “I got you these suspenders and these rubber gardening clogs.”

Bertie, dressed comfortably in a practical linen chemise, helped Moldenke attach the suspenders to the large pants and struggle into a turtle-neck shirt with a French label. The label in the well-worn garden shoes said Crocs. They were cool on his feet and Moldenke liked them.

“All right,” Bertie said. “We are all clean and clothed.”

Wheaton said, “I found some mushrooms. When they are dry, I will chop them up and make some tea.” He spread them out on a tea towel folded onto a sunny windowsill. “How do I know they are not poison? Because I looked into my files and located them. They are safe to ingest. This tea will work well against despair, anguish, fear, self-loathing, and so on. Ailments of the spirit.”

Bertie heard something and went to the door.

“We don’t need any company,” Moldenke said.

Bertie whispered, “Chinese officials, two of them.”

Soon the officials were at the door, opening it before it was opened to them. Bertie stepped back, allowing them in. This team had visited before. Now they were in a different mood. They stood just inside the cabin with their hands clasped behind their backs. “Good day to you,” Wei Chi said. “We are here to discuss urgent matters.”

Moldenke said, “There are no longer urgent matters for me, my friends. But please come in and sit at the table.”

The officials removed their field-caps and sat down. Wei Chi had a notepad and sharp pencil.

Moldenke held out his cup. “Fill me up, Wheaton.”

The officials refused Wheaton’s offer to pour them a cup. “Perhaps when we are finished with business,” Bo Quong said.

“What is the business?” Moldenke asked.

“We plan to improve the Ainsley road. We will pave it with an asphalt top. No cost to you.”

Moldenke tried to clap but his hands failed to connect. One struck him on the side of his face, and he gasped. A long fingernail left a slight abrasion on his cheek. Bertie took notice of this and wondered if he was having a small stroke or a seizure.

“The new road will make running easier. The cart will roll faster,” Wheaton said.

Wei Chi waved her clip board.

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