A Crying Shame (199 page)

Gut!”
Karl said.

Good for who?” Jon looked at him.

Whom, you nincompoop.”

Are you sure about that?”

Don't you dare question me on language.”

Jon turned to the group. They were all looking at him, not sure of what was coming next.
Progress will find you—you must know that. You—none of you—have a chance of surviving in the wild. It's a miracle you lasted this long.”

He was met with silence.

Look,” Jon pleaded.
Leave the . . . nonhuman babies. Come back with us.”

The women shook their heads.

Jon clicked the M-10 off safety. Karl tensed at his side, but made no move to stop him. The group all drew together, offering no resistance. Jon pointed the compact SMG to the ground and emptied the clip. He did the same with two other clips. He pulled the pins of his grenades and tossed them into the water. They exploded in a gush of churning dark water.

The swamp was shockingly silent after the barrage.

Jon looked at the big male with the blue eyes and saluted him.
You really should take a bath every now and then, old boy. You are disgustingly rank.”

The ordeal was over in Fountain Parish. Jon Badon was hailed as a mighty hero and a street in Laclede was renamed in his honor.

Tammy Gray married Karl von Pappen.

Sheriff Mike Saucier was reelected.

The local paper is now under new management which gets along well with the sheriff's department.

Nine months after the ordeal, a number of babies were born in Fountain and the parishes surrounding it. Those who know what happened that night can only watch and wait.

The good ol' boy who was bitten while mutilating the young Link went insane, attacking his wife. She shot him dead.

Ray Wagner is still attempting to learn French, and Mike still cringes when his new chief deputy tries to speak to him in Cajun.

Jon and Linda were married. They had one child and are working—at every opportunity—for another.

The Crying Swamp was leased, for ninety-nine years, by an organization known as the International Study Group, which promptly turned it into a wildlife refuge: no hunting, no fishing, guided tours in selected areas only. Certain areas are off-limits.

All the dead Links were destroyed before the press could get to them and blow everything out of proportion. The incident was old news in a week.

A small team of scientists is always at the large white block buildings at the edge of the Crying Swamp. Those buildings, too, are off-limits.

They study something.
Think tank” is what it's called by the locals. Bunch of eggheads out there all the time.

And once a week, Jon Badon walks over to one of the buildings and asks the same question of one of the scientists:
Have you taught the big, hairy, ugly bastard how to bathe yet?”

The reply is always the same.

But the Crying Swamp no longer cries.

by Jerry Ahern

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