The Lost One
an excerpt
The skin parted in a line, one side pulling from the other, as the knife slid slowly down. Montgomery Preston smiled, his teeth patched and translucent with black roots burrowing from beneath his slumping gums. He grunted as the knife dug into the flesh again. Lifting the piece of apple to his mouth, he chewed, the juice and chunks mixing with a black now dripping from his lower lip. Monty half swallowed before spitting in a metal bucket beside him. Teddy Preston shook his head as he walked up the aching porch steps. His brother pulled a tin from his pocket and packed more tobacco under his lip, his tongue licking with each chew.
“Papa’d be turning if he saw you.”
“Yeah, well,” Monty muttered. Sucking in, something deep in his nasal dislodged. He spat. “We cremated him.”
Teddy shook his head again, harder this time. The silver star on the jacket he held shimmered in the light now sinking behind the rolling fields of canola. Teddy flung it over the back of an old rocking chair next to his brother and sunk into it. He lowered his wide brimmed hat over his face for a moment before tossing it onto the rotting boards below. Monty gestured to an open bottle perched on the railing.
“Thanks,” Teddy said, wiping his hand on his dusty shirt as he grabbed it.
“Thought you’d be here sooner.”
“Me too.”
“How long were you out?”
“Fifteen hours.”
“Find anything?”
Teddy sipped the beer, wincing. It sat in the evening sun far too long waiting for him. His reddened hands, which ached constantly by this time, ran up and down the sweating bottle. “No,” he answered, taking a long, deep swig at the end of his words.
