counter.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
“It’s a free country,” said Chief Rudolph.
Judd sat down on a stool and ordered a cup of coffee.
“Look,” said Chief Rudolph, as if they were already in the middle of a conversation. “It’s not as if snapping turtles haven’t always been in the lake. For god’s sake, Judd, there are snappers in every lake up here.”
Chief Rudolph emptied his cup with a quick gulp so the waitress could refill it.
“Think about the Jersey shore, Judd. Millions of people go there. You think there aren’t sharks swimming in those waters? You think rip tides don’t sweep people out to sea? You think people don’t break their necks in the surf? For chrissakes, Judd, a few snapping turtles is nothing in comparison!”
“Nothing till now,” said Judd. “A little nip is one thing. A foot is another. Whatever’s in our lake has got to be one helluva whopper.”
“Well, it didn’t get to be a whopper overnight,” said Chief Rudolph. “It’s had to have been out there for God only knows how long. Who can even begin to guess how long this thing’s been around?”
“I can,” said a voice from behind them.
Chief Rudolph and Judd swiveled around. A tall slender man in tortoise shell glasses was standing behind them. Apparently he had slipped into Bonds’ during their conversation. For the past minute, he’d been eavesdropping.
“Jesus Christ, Andersen!” said Chief Rudolph. “You practically gave me a heart attack sneaking up behind us like that.”
“Sorry,” said August.
“Forget about sorry,” said Chief Rudolph. “Just tell me what you meant by ‘I can.’”
Chapter 19
TURTLEBACK LAKE 1958
“The moon was full that night,” began Owen Andersen.
He was starting to tell a story to his grandson, August.
August was five and he had just asked a question that had been on his mind since before he could even speak.
“What happened to your leg, Grandpa?”
Owen Andersen’s right leg ended just below the knee. From there on down he wore a wooden peg leg just like a pirate’s. Owen was also missing his right hand. August wondered about that, too, but that’s not what he’d asked about. He had asked, “What happened to your leg, Grandpa.”
And Owen had begun to tell him.
“The moon was full that night. I’d like to tell you it was an August moon, August, but it wasn’t. It was a September moon, and it was the biggest, fullest moon I’d ever seen. The moon looked like it had come down close to earth just to get a better look at two people – your father and me. We were out in the middle of the lake on the strangest looking vessel you ever did see. It was a craft that your father and I had built and it really wasn’t a boat at all. It was a kind of wooden raft set on top of a cage we had built out of wire and wood. And we were out there that night to have our revenge on a horrible monster.”
August interrupted his Grandfather.
“Monsters aren’t real, Grandpa,” he said. “They’re only in books and movies.”
“There you’re wrong, my boy,” said Owen. “I don’t mean to scare you, Augie boy, but monsters are real, very real. And some of them are out to get us. That’s just the way it is, August, so you might as well get used to the idea. It’s good versus evil out there, us versus them. And in this case, your father and I were up against a giant snapping turtle.”
“How did you know he was out there?” asked August.
“I’d seen him, Augie,” said Owen. “I’d even fed him once.”
Grandpa raised his right arm, the one that ended before his wrist. “He’d already eaten my right hand.”
Augie eyed the stump at the end of his grandpa’s right arm.
“People talk about phantom limbs, August. They talk about getting itches or pain in hands or legs they no longer have.”
Augie imagined trying to scratch an itch on a hand that was no longer there. It was a strange thing to think.
“For me, Augie, it was different.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
“It’s a free country,” said Chief Rudolph.
Judd sat down on a stool and ordered a cup of coffee.
“Look,” said Chief Rudolph, as if they were already in the middle of a conversation. “It’s not as if snapping turtles haven’t always been in the lake. For god’s sake, Judd, there are snappers in every lake up here.”
Chief Rudolph emptied his cup with a quick gulp so the waitress could refill it.
“Think about the Jersey shore, Judd. Millions of people go there. You think there aren’t sharks swimming in those waters? You think rip tides don’t sweep people out to sea? You think people don’t break their necks in the surf? For chrissakes, Judd, a few snapping turtles is nothing in comparison!”
“Nothing till now,” said Judd. “A little nip is one thing. A foot is another. Whatever’s in our lake has got to be one helluva whopper.”
“Well, it didn’t get to be a whopper overnight,” said Chief Rudolph. “It’s had to have been out there for God only knows how long. Who can even begin to guess how long this thing’s been around?”
“I can,” said a voice from behind them.
Chief Rudolph and Judd swiveled around. A tall slender man in tortoise shell glasses was standing behind them. Apparently he had slipped into Bonds’ during their conversation. For the past minute, he’d been eavesdropping.
“Jesus Christ, Andersen!” said Chief Rudolph. “You practically gave me a heart attack sneaking up behind us like that.”
“Sorry,” said August.
“Forget about sorry,” said Chief Rudolph. “Just tell me what you meant by ‘I can.’”
Chapter 19
TURTLEBACK LAKE 1958
“The moon was full that night,” began Owen Andersen.
He was starting to tell a story to his grandson, August.
August was five and he had just asked a question that had been on his mind since before he could even speak.
“What happened to your leg, Grandpa?”
Owen Andersen’s right leg ended just below the knee. From there on down he wore a wooden peg leg just like a pirate’s. Owen was also missing his right hand. August wondered about that, too, but that’s not what he’d asked about. He had asked, “What happened to your leg, Grandpa.”
And Owen had begun to tell him.
“The moon was full that night. I’d like to tell you it was an August moon, August, but it wasn’t. It was a September moon, and it was the biggest, fullest moon I’d ever seen. The moon looked like it had come down close to earth just to get a better look at two people – your father and me. We were out in the middle of the lake on the strangest looking vessel you ever did see. It was a craft that your father and I had built and it really wasn’t a boat at all. It was a kind of wooden raft set on top of a cage we had built out of wire and wood. And we were out there that night to have our revenge on a horrible monster.”
August interrupted his Grandfather.
“Monsters aren’t real, Grandpa,” he said. “They’re only in books and movies.”
“There you’re wrong, my boy,” said Owen. “I don’t mean to scare you, Augie boy, but monsters are real, very real. And some of them are out to get us. That’s just the way it is, August, so you might as well get used to the idea. It’s good versus evil out there, us versus them. And in this case, your father and I were up against a giant snapping turtle.”
“How did you know he was out there?” asked August.
“I’d seen him, Augie,” said Owen. “I’d even fed him once.”
Grandpa raised his right arm, the one that ended before his wrist. “He’d already eaten my right hand.”
Augie eyed the stump at the end of his grandpa’s right arm.
“People talk about phantom limbs, August. They talk about getting itches or pain in hands or legs they no longer have.”
Augie imagined trying to scratch an itch on a hand that was no longer there. It was a strange thing to think.
“For me, Augie, it was different.
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