Extinct by Ike Hamill

completely clean. Brad couldn’t even imagine how one would dig such a perfect hole in any circumstance, let alone over the course of just one night. Instead of going back up the stairs to the deck, Brad left his coffee behind and walked around the garage and opened the big door. His biggest ladder still rested against the pine tree out back, but he had a smaller, more appropriate ladder for this job anyway. He retrieved his six-foot step ladder and carried it overhead to get it past his truck.
    A tan sedan pulled down the driveway and parked alongside the fence as Brad set the ladder down.
    Brad walked up to within ten feet of the car and waited for the man to get out.
    The man looked tired, but extremely precise. He glanced through the car window at Brad, gave him a single, clipped nod and then opened the car door. His feet hit the gravel drive together, perpendicular to the car, and the man stood with one quick motion, not pushing against the doorframe or pulling on the door for assistance. Brad just watched, not making any movement to introduce himself or greet the man. The man wore a golf shirt and crisp khaki pants—no pleat.
    When the man stood to his full height, Brad was surprised. Brad stood about six-foot two, and didn’t expect to be dwarfed by the man in the tan sedan. The man was thin, too. Brad guessed they probably weighed the same, even though the man stood several inches taller. The man removed his sunglasses and perched them atop his crew cut before he closed the door and approached Brad.
    The man put out his hand to Brad.
    “Good morning, sir,” the man said. “I’m Herm Gunther, I want to talk to you about your plants?”
    “Plants?” Brad asked.
    “Yes," Herm said. “Your name is Brad Jenkins, correct? You gave a sample to Stayev-ross Orestus last Tuesday?”
    “Yesterday,” Brad said, nodding.
    “I’m sorry?” asked Herm.
    “I gave a sample to STAVross OrestES yesterday . On Tuesday,” Brad said. He crossed his arms and looked at Herm’s shoes. They were casual boat shoes, which Herm wore with no socks. Brad could see a half inch of bright white ankle between the shoes and the khakis. He guessed Herm’s ankles didn’t get much sun. His hands and forearms did though, Brad saw tan lines about halfway down the man’s biceps.
    “Would you be more comfortable if we moved inside?” asked Herm.
    “No, I’m fine here,” Brad said.
    “Do you have a cell phone on you by any chance?” asked Herm.
    “Yes, I do,” Brad said. He didn’t move for a second, but then pulled the phone from his back pocket and waved it at Herm.  
    “Good," Herm said. “Would you like to check the date?”
    “Okay?” Brad said, with a hint of uncertainty creeping into the edges of his voice. The phone informed him of the current date: Thursday, July twenty-first. Brad’s eyes shifted from side to side as he tried to figure out where Wednesday had gone. He remembered Tuesday, then writing a letter, and then going to bed a little early. How was it Thursday?
    Herm watched Brad’s puzzlement and rubbed his eyes while Brad tried to piece together his calendar. “These plants are close to your house?” he asked.
    “No,” Brad said. “No, they’re out back. Who are you again?”
    “I’m Herm Gunther," the man said. “I work for USDA on the abatement of aquatic and arboreal invasives. Have you taken any trips to Georgia or South Carolina recently?”  
    “Nope,” Brad said. “I’ve been right here. Are you saying that plant is from Georgia.”
    “More than likely," Herm said. “It’s been on the Federal Noxious Weed list for years, but it’s just starting to show up in other parts of the country. Would you mind showing me where you took the clipping?”
    “Well, perhaps,” Brad said. He put his hands on his hips and then thrust them into his pockets. “I’m, uh, I’m a little concerned though.”
    “Concerned?” asked Herm.
    “Well, I’m not sure why, but the last time I was out back