Revolt of the Rats by Reed Blitzerman (ap literature book list .TXT) 📖

He said nothing and she continued. “What you’re talking about is risky. We could lose everything.” She repeated the last word slowly, for emphasis. “Everything.”

She’d been through this before when he’d started treating sick neighbors. She’d told him then that if he got sick or died, she would kill him. It wasn’t until the home baked pies and thank you notes started arriving that she’d relented. Then he had got sick and she’d ruefully failed to follow through on her promise.

He responded so quietly she barely heard him. “We could lose everything if we do nothing.”

She definitely wanted to kill him now. “You don’t know that. We’ve finally got something good.”

Eli rocked the porch swing. The last seven years with the four of them had been the most fulfilling of her life. Working beside her son, and having her sister back had given her a serenity she’d never experienced. He’s asking me to give that up with nothing promised in return.

She’d never seen him move this fast. Awareness dawned. Something had changed. She watched him exhale.

He nodded his head, as if speaking to himself. “I had another dream.”

“You have got to be kidding. If this is how you get your way....” Just like his patients, her eyes traveled down to watch the hands resting in his lap.

Patient might not survive.

She studied him. He’d been a different man after the pox. More silent, if that was possible and well she couldn’t put her finger on it. Smarter maybe? Stripped down. That was what came to mind. The old Eli had liked nice things and a bit of impressing the neighbors. He coveted.

The new Eli cared nothing for that. The new Eli wasn’t interested in anything beyond family and that damn barn full of machines. How had she ended up here? So far from the farmer’s daughter she’d been when they married. Now it was farming, machine tools, and ledger books.

She’d underestimated what she’d bought when she’d married Eli Steiner. He was a good husband, but oh so odd. She sighed now and moved on, hoping she wouldn’t have to save them again.

“This isn’t something we decide by ourselves,” She said. She stood up and hooked his elbow. “Let’s talk to the rest of the family and see what they say.”

They crept through the doors. Everett and Dill looked up from their work.

Eli started, without preamble. “I think we should sell off all the land except the barn and the house,”

Everett and Dill tried to read Judith’s reaction. Her face was immobile. She nodded curtly at Eli to continue.

“We can use the money from the sale to pay off our debt and buy new machines. The machine tool business is growing. We don’t have to wait until spring to get our money. We’re not tied to one place for our customers. We’ve already proven that we can make this work. I think we should double down.”

Judith was nauseous. Gambling words. Perhaps he’s more like Daddy than I ever thought. Her sister shifted foot to foot and a thorn pierced her heart. Dill’s “happy feet” betrayed her. You’d think she’d been paroled from prison. She’d come to help and she had. But maybe she’d given up too much.

In the city, she’d had her own place, her own job, and her own life. Dill probably hadn’t considered the weight of the decision until well after she’d received the telegram. But now with the door open a crack she could see all the possibilities. She was already gone.

Everett was a harder read. He could tell they were holding something back. His mouth was pressed in a hard, flat line, eyes on Father’s hands, clasped low along his belt.

Patient might not survive.

Eli’s turned to focus on him and said, “I had another dream.”

When he finished explaining there was just the cicadas singing. From the silence alone Judith knew they’d decided. They were going to do this come hell or high water. She just hoped it wouldn’t cost everything she loved in the process.

A Bobber On The Ocean

ELI ENJOYED THE SOUNDS of a sleeping house. The roof sighed. The oil furnace in the basement wheezed. Snores carried from his son and niece down the hall. The rhythms of farm life passed like a metronome. Measured days became steady weeks. This he could savor.

But the kids weren’t kids anymore. Soon they’d have lives of their own and he and Judith would be a memory. It was no different than when he left the orphanage. He’d been ready years before he signed the papers.

Menace skittered just out of sight, hidden in the shadow of war, a silent sentry beyond hope of control. They were a bobber skating on a wave amidst the ocean’s fury.

They had to prepare. Even after selling the farmland there were expenses. The business devoured cash for machines, steel, tooling and suppliers for processes like heat treating. They needed more sales.

Every week he’d driving further, hunting for new customers. Even without the farm to take care of, it wasn’t enough. People still didn’t have money. They needed another salesman.

Judith could read the numbers. She probably already knew. Dill was absolutely necessary to the machine shop. And with her temper, they kept her away from customers. It would have to be Everett.

They would go on the road together. It would be like the old times. His questioning son beside him watching the landscape unwind. And then he would want his own car. Eli smiled at that and went back to sleep. One small thing resolved.

He awoke before Judith. He laid with his hands behind his head, watching her sleep. The rooster crowed and she regarded him through half-mast eyes, placed a warm hand on his arm.

He said, “What do you think about Everett going on the road?”

“That’s not the first question I thought you would ask me this morning.”

“Well....”

She ran a hand through her hair and smiled. “I was wondering when you were going to ask. Sure, then I can take over his machine.”

The kids clambered in the kitchen, already eating.

“Farmer, accountant, and now machine operator,” Eli said. “You’re full of surprises today.”

“Let me show you another.”

Wafts of brewing coffee drew them downstairs like magnets.

“There’s eggs and toast.”

“Oh, thank you, Everett. So your mom and I were talking. How would you like to join me on the road?”

Everett spoke through a mouthful of eggs. “I’m ready.”

“I could sell better than my damn nephew,” Dill said.

Eli placed a hand on her shoulder. “Another salesman would give you more designs to build.”

Her mouth smiled. But her eyes said she was still turning it over, as if the decision was not final, only delayed. “And who's going to run his machine? You Judith?”

“Well, yes. You already have several.”

Dill poked her sister in the chest. “That's because I know what I'm doing. The shop is my thing. I'm the engineer. So you're going to have to do a better job of following orders. It's not just numbers.”

Everett took a breath between swallows. “So you're not going on the road then?”

“That's quite a lot of eggs you have there, Everett and no, I guess not. Training starts right now, Judith. If you want to join production you’re going to have to give me your toast.”

Sales calls could wait. Eli listened to their laughter thinking that it sounded good and pure, like trumpets at summer festival. He could smell Judith’s perfume on the backs of his hands, and all was right in the world. Someday, I’ll reminisce about these years and wish with all my heart that I could have them back.

Author’s Note

THANK YOU FOR READING! I hope you enjoyed reading Revolt of the Rats. I’ve had people ask already, “what happens with Kahle and Bee?” Or, “What happens to the Steiners when World War II arrives?” And, “What happened to Anise? She allowed someone to die.”  Well they’ll all be back in book two. And Anise isn’t done.

Turn the page for a preview of “Rats Ascendant: Overtime”.

Read on for a thrilling preview of

Rats Ascendant: Overtime

Book Two

A dark fantasy novel

In paperback and ebook

October, 2016

Haley Stovall, 1940

––––––––

ELI GRIPPED THE STEERING wheel and then released, willing himself to relax. After the radio address, he had a recurring dream of German soldiers goose-stepping through narrow Polish streets, past Everett’s body; face up in the ditch with two neat bullet holes in the breast. Silent despair disoriented him, washed the color from the surrounding fields.

His throat was thick with bile. It had been two months of this. “If you threaten someone, they won't buy.”

“I was trying to close the sale,” Everett said.

“You were an inch away from his face.”

Eli shifted in his seat, adjusting the collar of his coat, which was riding up over his suit jacket. It rubbed at the base of his neck, where remnants of last night’s argument hung like a yoke.

Everett said, “He didn't seem to mind it.”

“I think he did.” Eli put the car in gear, pointed it for a farmhouse cresting the ridge. Another prospect maybe. Another chance to make their way.

He wanted to say more. Prospects were like eggs. Squeeze too hard and your dinner squirted out into the dust. Or enemy soldiers were malevolent phantoms. Ignore a snapping twig and it could be the last thing you hear this side of rapture.

“I was holding a sample and a pen,” Everett pressed his hands against the roof. “I couldn’t just drop them.”

“You kept jabbing it at him. It was a pen, not a bayonet. And you weren't watching his feet.”

Everett asked, “What about them?”

“They were pointed at the door.” Eli squeezed the steering wheel, fearing where his hands would go if he released.

“How was I supposed to know that?”

Eli held a breath and released it. “Because I taught you to.”

Everett hunched his shoulders and set his mouth, as if eating something sour.

Eli reached across the car and placed a hand on his shoulder. “There's no reason to be angry. They're not rejecting you. They're rejecting the idea.”

Everett cocked his head. “I don't understand.”

There was hope after all. “You're always competing. Mostly with the idea of doing nothing. Never underestimate fear, Everett. Roosevelt has given us hope, but it's fragile. What is faith, Everett?”

Everett tensed his shoulders and stared straight ahead without blinking.

Eli said, “Realize many people have no faith. They're just hoping you're the real thing. You have to lead them.”

“Like leading soldiers.”

“No, not like leading soldiers. Like selling machine tools.”

“Why don’t you want me to join the Army?” Everett asked.

Eli held his breath. And there it was, plain as day, the real problem. Ring the bell, here goes round one. “Soldiers pay attention or they die. It’s been two months of this. Do you pay attention? Do you?” The words came out with more force than he intended, and Everett’s body recoiled from their impact. “Watch me,” Eli said.

“I've been watching. You don't do anything.”

Between Everett and Dill I’ll have a conniption fit. “Watch.”

“Fine.”

they turned up a driveway wide enough for two cars abreast, over ruts of frozen mud that