The Passage

Martha reaches across, and taking Tammy's hand, leads her away from the

unfolding story.

It was the Groggin brothers. I later realized they'd

killed the other guests for target practice when they

came up from the fishing hole. Almost everyone went

there to escape the heat, you know. I saw them when I

went to the barn to get my bay - fishing poles and

fish in hand, laying there in blood and twisted in

agony. All dead.

Vacationers were walking toward the main house, fishing poles and a string of

fish in hand. They were gesturing and talking. One of the guests jerks

backward, blood on his face and neck, splattered all over his shirt front.

The others get a frantic look on their faces, jerking their heads around to

look in the direction of the shot, trying to discern what is happening. Netty

says,

I realized they were shooting everybody!

The Groggin brothers were downstairs, getting drunk and laughing about their

exploits. Netty lies trembling under the bed, not daring to move.

They were laughing about what they'd done. Laughing.

Talking about how people looked when the bullets hit,

how they reacted, the look on their faces. Then

they'd howl and carry on. I was sick, trembling so

hard I was afraid to move. I slipped under the bed,

lay there trying not to breath, not to move, not make

any sounds that could be heard.

The Groggin brothers now considered themselves masters of the resort they were never welcomed at. They swaggered around, putting their muddy boots up on the

stuffed furniture, and raiding the bar and tossing empty bottles at lamps and

vases. No phones, no law, and the brothers can do as they please.

.. more fun than moving weed ..

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They moved room to room seeing what they could find, looking for valuables.

Netty says,

I held my breath when they came into my room, didn't

breathe, and they missed me.

Netty slipped down the stairs, cautiously, shoes in her hand and back to the

wall so she can see the main room before the Groggin brothers see her feet.

Later I slipped down the stairs when it got quiet.

They were asleep, drunk and snoring.

Netty is in the stables at the Clearwater Resort, heaving an English saddle

over the back of her big bay, a horse she has brought with her to the resort,

her favorite. She is seen stroking its ears after she slips the bit into its

mouth, talking to it.

I went to the barn and saddled my big bay. He follows

me like a baby after I pet him a bit. Quiet as a

mouse.

Netty leads her horse away from the stables, her free hand on the horses mouth

now and then, as though to quiet it. Netty leads the horse along a hedge, away

from the resort lodge.

I thought I had gotten away, had walked along the

hedge where they couldn't see me unless I mounted, and

I didn't mount to ride until beyond the trees there.

Then Netty is on her bay, cantering, while looking over her shoulder toward

the resort lodge.

But when I was riding away, I thought I saw something

move near the house. I figured I'd been seen. They

chased me, and there was no hiding as the Sun never

went down. I was the only witness to their crimes.

Netty glances around the group, and seeing all eyes on her, attentively,

continues.

I was the only living witness to their crimes, and

they weren't about to lose me. Dead women tell no

tales. But I think they were on a power trip too.

Their guns ruled, I guess. These guys are sadistic.

Once they got on top, no telling what they'd do.

Netty falls silent for a minute, putting the fear she felt away in that

compartment she never wanted to open again. Taking a deep breath, Netty

glances around the group to signal a change in the story. Netty walked her

bay along the bed of a stream, water up to her hips in places. Suddenly she

and the horse were thrown sideways, the horse’s legs up in the air and kicking

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as it tries to right itself. She lands flat on her belly on the water, rises

up sputtering and coughing. Both unhurt.

I was lucky enough to be in Clearwater Creek when it

hit. I took a dunking, had the breath knocked out of

me when I landed, and when I came up all I saw were

kicking legs and splashing around. It was a good

thing I hadn't been riding. My bay was almost upside

down. There were hooves everywhere, but we were OK.

Netty pauses to pull the story together, piecing it together for herself at

the same time.

Apparently the Groggin brothers were drunk, loose as a

goose. Drunk drivers are always the ones to survive

the crash. That was like them.

Netty falls silent again, having reached the end of her story. Netty ends her

story with a question.