The rat on fire

10

Jimmy Dannaher and Leo Proctor sat in the van parked in the woods on the dirt road off Randolph Avenue in Milton, Massachusetts. “You didn’t say we had to walk around in the woods, Leo,” Jimmy said.

“Look,” Proctor said, “everybody knows they close up the dumps at night. At least I’m not asking you to climb over the fence there, the gate. All you got to do is follow me around the gate and we go through the woods and there we are, inna dump.”

“With the rats,” Dannaher said. “Skunks, too, probably. Big, fat, black-and-white skunks that spend all their time getting ready to drown me in their piss the minute I go tramping around in their garbage, and I’ll stink for six days.”

“You stink now,” Proctor said.

“Fuck you,” Dannaher said. “I’m serious about this. I don’t want to go in there with a bunch of rats. They’ve probably got snakes in there, too. They got snakes in the Blue Hills here. Poisonous snakes that can bite you and kill you. What if I step on a rattlesnake or something? Who’ll take care of my kids if I step on a rattlesnake, huh?”

“They haven’t got any rattlesnakes in there,” Proctor said.

“They have got rattlesnakes in there,” Dannaher said. “I know it because I read it in the paper. You don’t know nothing about rattlesnakes. They have had rattlesnakes out here for years. It’s been on television and everything. You don’t know anything. You’re going to get us both in prison before we’re through, and you’re telling me about rattlesnakes. I’m not going in there in the dark.”

“And then who’s gonna take care of your kids?” Proctor said.

“If I don’t go in there?” Dannaher said. “I am, of course.”

“Like you did when you were in the can for a while?” Proctor said.

“If I don’t get into this,” Dannaher said, “I won’t be in the can for a while, and I can do it.”

“With no money?” Proctor said.

“I can get some money,” Dannaher said.

“Yup,” Proctor said, “you can get some money. But you can’t get any money from me unless you come into that fucking dump with me and take your chances with the snakes and the skunks. You will have to find somebody else who is willing to give you some money, and I wish you luck, is what I do, because I think you are going to need it. If I was you, I would rather take my chances with the skunks.”

“I don’t see why the hell they lock dumps up at night,” Dannaher said. “They afraid somebody’ll steal something from them?”

“No,” Proctor said. “They lock up the dump road at night because they want to stop people from giving them things, such as whole messes of shit they will have to bury. They block the road in the middle of the night because they don’t want people coming in and throwing away all kinds of trees and rocks and shit like that. They don’t put a fence around the woods because they don’t care if people go in the dump and catch a few rats. What they care about is people that are working on construction and demolition and stuff, that don’t even live in the town, driving their trucks up and saving themselves a lot of money that they would have to pay to have the stuff carted away, and dumping the stuff in the town dump.”

“I don’t see why they care,” Dannaher said.

“All right,” Proctor said, “I was lying to you. The real reason is that snakes and skunks and rats always use the road when they try to get out of the dump. Every night the sun goes down and the guy that drives the bulldozer around goes hack to the shack and gets his jacket on and goes home for Miller Time. And on his way down the road in his pick-up truck, he stops and he gets out and he wraps the big chain through the posts and he takes the big padlock out of the truck and he locks the gate shut.

“Now,” Proctor said, “the snakes and the skunks and the rats are a long way away from this gate. They cannot hear whether the guy stops the truck and puts the chain and the lock on. So every night they wait until they think he is gone, and then they say to each other, ‘Maybe tonight he forgot.’ So all the snakes and the skunks and the rats get up and they go down the road to the gate and one of the snakes climbs it, climbs right up the fence, to see if the chain and the lock are on. And every night, they are.

“So the snake that does the inspection,” Proctor said, “he climbs back down again, all discouraged and everything, and he tells all the rest of the animals, ‘No use, fellas, the gate’s locked again. He didn’t forget tonight, either.’ Then they all go back up the road to the dump.

“See, Jimmy,” Proctor said, “snakes and skunks and rats are not very bright. It does not occur to them to go through the woods. If the gate is not open, they think they have to stay. The people who run the dump know this. They want all their rats and other animals to stay in the dump, because they are sort of like pets, you know? So they lock the gate, and the animals stay in the dump and eat dead meat and fruit and that stuff, and it keeps the place neat.

“Therefore,” Proctor said, “if you walk through those woods with me, Jimmy, around that gate and so forth, there is no chance in the world that you will step on one of those animals. You are as safe as you would be in church, because the animals do not use the woods. Okay? And in addition, you will get some money, so you can take care of your kids.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Dannaher said.

“Yes, you do,” Proctor said. “You and I are going to open up the back of this thing and we are going to take out three steel traps and three pounds of smelly old fish heads that I have in this plastic bag there. One of us is going to carry two traps and the other one is going to carry one trap and the fish. We are going to go through the woods and the guy in front is going to hold the flashlight so that the guy behind him can see where he is going. When we get around the gate, we can walk on the road because all the animals have gone to bed except for the rats, and they are watching the late news on their television sets. When we get to the actual dump we will put the fish in the traps and set the traps and then we will go a little ways away and we will wait until we hear that we have got a lot of rats in our three traps. Then we will come back to the trucks with our rats in our traps.”

“What about the fish?” Dannaher said.

“We will allow the rats to eat the fish,” Proctor said. “Believe me when I tell you, that as far as I am concerned, the rats are welcome to that fish, because it stinks. Besides, rats have to eat. We have work for those rats to do, and we want them nice and healthy and ready to run fast when we light them off, so we will transcend our own appetite for the fish and let them eat it.”

Carrying two steel cages, each about two feet long and one foot wide, in his left hand, and the flashlight in his right hand, Proctor led Dannaher through the underbrush on the northerly side of the gate, trampling the low, green, three-leafed plants. On the easterly side of the gate they stepped onto the gravel road and walked up a long hill. Now and then a trailer truck passed on Randolph Avenue behind them, the lights barely disturbing the darkness. The gravel crunched and the hill became steeper. Dannaher said, “Slow down, for Christ sake.”

“You’re outta shape, Jimma,” Proctor said. “See? Here’s another thing that I am doing for you. I am getting you some exercise so you don’t get yourself a heart attack when you are still a young man.”

“I think I’m getting one now,” Dannaher said.