In The Garden Of The North American Martyrs Read Free

through the fences. Frank and Kenny could have helped him; they could have lifted up on the top wire and stepped on the bottom wire, but they didn’t. They stood and watched him. There were a lot of fences and Tub was puffing when they reached the woods.
    They hunted for over two hours and saw no deer, no tracks, no sign. Finally they stopped by the creek to eat. Kenny hadseveral slices of pizza and a couple of candy bars: Frank had a sandwich, an apple, two carrots, and a square of chocolate; Tub ate one hard-boiled egg and a stick of celery.
    â€œYou ask me how I want to die today,” Kenny said, “I’ll tell you burn me at the stake.” He turned to Tub. “You still on that diet?” He winked at Frank.
    â€œWhat do you think? You think I like hard-boiled eggs?”
    â€œAll I can say is, it’s the first diet I ever heard of where you gained weight from it.”
    â€œWho said I gained weight?”
    â€œOh, pardon me. I take it back. You’re just wasting away before my very eyes. Isn’t he, Frank?”
    Frank had his fingers fanned out, tips against the bark of the stump where he’d laid his food. His knuckles were hairy. He wore a heavy wedding band and on his right pinky another gold ring with a flat face and an “F” in what looked like diamonds. He turned the ring this way and that. “Tub,” he said, “you haven’t seen your own balls in ten years.”
    Kenny doubled over laughing. He took off his hat and slapped his leg with it.
    â€œWhat am I supposed to do?” Tub said. “It’s my glands.”
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    They left the woods and hunted along the creek. Frank and Kenny worked one bank and Tub worked the other, moving upstream. The snow was light but the drifts were deep and hard to move through. Wherever Tub looked the surface was smooth, undisturbed, and after a time he lost interest. He stopped looking for tracks and just tried to keep up with Frank and Kenny on the other side. A moment came when he realized he hadn’t seen them in a long time. The breeze was moving from him to them; when it stilled he could sometimes hear Kenny laughing but that was all. He quickened his pace, breasting hard into the drifts, fighting away the snow with his knees and elbows. He heard his heart and felt the flush on his face but he never once stopped.
    Tub caught up with Frank and Kenny at a bend of the creek. They were standing on a log that stretched from their bank to his. Ice had backed up behind the log. Frozen reeds stuck out, barely nodding when the air moved.
    â€œSee anything?” Frank asked.
    Tub shook his head.
    There wasn’t much daylight left and they decided to head back toward the road. Frank and Kenny crossed the log and they started downstream, using the trail Tub had broken. Before they had gone very far Kenny stopped. “Look at that,” he said, and pointed to some tracks going from the creek back into the woods. Tub’s footprints crossed right over them. There on the bank, plain as day, were several mounds of deer sign. “What do you think that is, Tub?” Kenny kicked at it. “Walnuts on vanilla icing?”
    â€œI guess I didn’t notice.”
    Kenny looked at Frank.
    â€œI was lost.”
    â€œYou were lost. Big deal.”
    They followed the tracks into the woods. The deer had gone over a fence half buried in drifting snow. A no hunting sign was nailed to the top of one of the posts. Frank laughed and said the son of a bitch could read. Kenny wanted to go after him but Frank said no way, the people out here didn’t mess around. He thought maybe the farmer who owned the land would let them use it if they asked. Kenny wasn’t so sure. Anyway, he figured that by the time they walked to the truck and drove up the road and doubled back it would be almost dark.
    â€œRelax,” Frank said. “You can’t hurry nature. If we’re meant to get that deer, we’ll