Naboth had walked the river path since he was a child. His
feet could navigate the terrain even on a black-sky night. Usually, he walked
it with a load on his back, strapped to his flesh by leather chords; kindling,
an egg basket, feed, a slaughtered hog or one designated to be. But today the
sun was high and hot, and though he carried with him the leather, there was no
load upon him. He was walking free and fast, following the river to where he
knew he’d find Cecil.
Cecil had a regular habit of napping beside the river in a
patch of tall grass beneath a white oak. He always carried a book with
him, intending to read, but mostly he slept. The river noise lulled him. Naboth
had observed him that way many times, always in secret. It was fascinating to
watch Cecil sleep. Sleeping made even a powerful man like
Cecil look infantile and helpless. It leveled men.
At the fork, Naboth followed the path east, closer to the
river. The ground was rocky, but he knew how to step. He was slowing,
quieting himself. There was plenty of cover between his spot and Cecil’s, but
it could be that Cecil wasn’t fully asleep, so Naboth moved lightly, taking
careful steps like a bobcat. He felt more like a creature than a man, closing
in on Cecil that way. His breathing was shallow and quick.
Leaving the path, he found the cottonwood from which he’d
viewed Cecil on days past. The base was wide enough for Naboth to stand behind
fully concealed. It was fifteen yards to the river’s edge. The high grass
surrounded Cecil, but Naboth could see his long form resting there in the shade
of the white oak. Cecil was not asleep. He had his book raised a few inches
from his face and was reading aloud, his voice muffled by the trickling water
sounds of the river. Naboth crouched behind his tree and waited. He listened to
the murmur of Cecil’s voice. In intervals, he peered around the tree down to
the riverbed and watched Cecil slowly turn pages. After some time the voice dropped away and all that remained was the river, and Naboth knew
that Cecil had fallen asleep.
Before approaching, Naboth tied a slip knot at one end
of the leather strap he’d brought. Kneeling behind the cottonwood, he used his
hands to pull at the leather until he’d formed a large loop. He wrapped the
free end of the strap around his left wrist and held the loop end in his right
hand. He gripped it tightly.
On his way down to Cecil, Naboth felt the creature-feeling again, like he was becoming something wild. Creeping forward, he
lost sense of being a man. He knew himself as a beast; something that belonged
out in the trees, in the tall grass, near the water’s edge. In that short span,
as he stepped silently forward, he was convincing himself. He was telling himself
that what he was going to do was a natural,
creaturely thing; the sort that beasts do with no concern for goodness or sin.
He was barefoot like a beast. His whole life he’d been treated like one,
carrying on his body the physical burdens that belonged to Cecil and his folks.
They had placed so many burdens on him.
He dropped the loop end of the leather chord down over Cecil’s
head and the man’s eyes popped open as Naboth tightened it with a sharp tug. Their
gazes met a second before Naboth had Cecil turned on his stomach. He used the
remaining length of leather to tie him up like a steer, hands and feet drawn
tight and immobile. It was done with such speed that Cecil had no opportunity struggle.
With his face in the dirt, Cecil said, “What the hell, you gone mad or something?”
Naboth’s only response was to tighten the chord,
causing the leather to dig into Cecil’s wrists.
“Boy, you cut this rope or you’ll suffer. I swear.” Cecil
said. There was no fear in his voice, only indignation. Naboth understood this
to mean that Cecil was unaware of the spot he was in. He was still playing by
the old rules, but Naboth knew that, at least for a few minutes, the rules had
been erased. Taking a strong grip on the leather, he tugged hard, dragging
Cecil a few inches closer to the river’s edge. Cecil was big and not easily
moved across the uneven ground.
“What's this about? I don’t understand it.” Cecil said. The
tone in his voice had shifted a bit, and Naboth liked the sound of it. It was
something new.
“Boy, you’re a good one. Always have been in my eyes. Why
you doin’ this? Have I done some particular harm to you?” Cecil said.
He was trying to twist his body, fighting against Naboth’s strength. When they
got to the river and he felt the water on his legs, he fought harder, but
with no success.
Cecil shouted, “You’re gonna suffer and die for this, you
devil!”
Naboth remained silent. It took all his strength to get
Cecil’s full body into the water. The river wasn’t deep at the edge, but he
placed his knee into Cecil’s back, forcing the big man’s head beneath the
surface. Cecil fought a while, but then went still. Naboth stayed on top of him
for a long time after he stopped moving. When he knew Cecil
was absolutely dead, he sat down on him and untied the knots in the leather
chord. Once they were loose, Naboth used his foot to push the body deeper
into the flow of the river.
Coming up out of the water, Naboth went and sat at the place
where Cecil had been sleeping a minute earlier. He picked up the book from the
ground and opened it and stared at the markings that covered the pages. He
wondered how anyone could pass time looking at such a worthless thing. He
tossed the book to the ground. He had no use for it.
* * * * *
To learn more about Valery Sablin, read the original Wikipedia article HERE.
