9
Dinner with Wyatt wasn’t as awkward as Jax expected, but he supposed no one would make a meal awkward intentionally. Wyatt Emerson possessed a confidence rarely found in other people that made him come off a little too strong for some people’s taste.
“It’s weird how the country has adopted diplomacy,” Wyatt said. “You’d think World War three would start up because of this issue with Iran, but they sound like they’re talking it out. You know, when I was younger, America had far too much hubris. We let the two World Wars under our belt go to our heads, and then it seemed like we were sniffing around for trouble.”
“It’s more or less a step in the right direction,” Daark stated as if his evidence were obvious.
“More or less?”
Jax kept quiet. It seemed clear that Wyatt and Daark were going at each other’s throats again.
“Well, isn’t it ironic how we got here? We solved a problem with problems. It seems humanity has to keep making mistakes to learn a lesson. We use atomic bombs, and the world arms itself with nukes until we all make peace talks because we fear nuclear war. America had all the confidence in the world until it had its ego checked by a bad war. Hitler taught the world the dangers of nationalism: that blind followers commit the most atrocities. Humans are not a species of logic. Rather, they learn from disgusting mistakes over and over until they go extinct.”
“You speak like you’re not human too.”
Daark bit at his lip for a moment. “Forgive my tongue, it slips when I’m tired.”
“Well, I think travel has made us weary,” Jax said, attempting to change the subject. “Maybe we’ll have to hit the sack early.”
Daark agreed, and Wyatt went on to a new subject.
“Well, I hope I’m not boring you. Sadly, it is just me from now on.”
“Why’s that? I thought there were more farmhands,” Jax said.
“There were, before the bad omens. Now, before you go writin’ me off as superstitious, you better listen to the whole story.
“All of us used to get together to play poker on Friday nights. Even the women joined in; no reason they shouldn’t. Anyway, we’re all laughin’, havin’ a good time, then we go to show down our hands. Now we know sure as hell everyone was bluffin’ that round. Well, Tucker had a straight flush and beat us all out. I had two black eights, two black aces and a joker. Next round, someone beats me out, but I have the same hand, except instead of a joker it’s a six of clubs. The guys joked that if I was trying to cheat, I was doing a shit job of it. Next round, same hand but with a six of spades. I folded, so no one would see my cards. The only one who saw that hand was Maizie. She gave me a certain look of concern, and the others picked up on it though they didn’t say a word. Next hand, two black eights, two black aces, and a six of hearts. I don’t remember much that came after that game. But within a week, everyone left.”
Jax, who was unfamiliar with poker, raised an eyebrow. “You get a suspicious hand of cards and suddenly everyone’s up and gone? What, were you playing poker with tarot cards or something?”
Daark interjected before Wyatt could answer, “Don’t lie to yourself anymore. The cards are just the straw that broke the camel’s back, but the basket had been full long before the cards.”
“What are you implyin’?” Wyatt asked.
“The land is shit. You’re just the one who refuses to see it!”
“Our crops and livestock are booming,” Wyatt argued.
“That’s only what you want to see. The crops have all fallen to malnourishment, all choked out by weeds that grow like hydras. The cattle conceive lame offspring that turn violet before they can get a breath in their lungs. The hogs are born with deformed limbs, or they battle with one another until they’re all deformed, misshapen, diseased husks. The chickens lay eggs with paper-thin shells that break at the lightest touch. Call me a cynic or say my heart isn’t in the land; I don’t care. If we try to reap the soil any longer, the ground will swallow us up. How much longer will you work? Do you have to fall into the pigpen or have a combine grind you into bone meal before you see that it isn’t worth it?”
“I’ll happily die a thousand times here than be bound to rocking chairs and dull retirement. Don’t you understand loyalty?”
“Loyalty is a blind man’s concept,” Daark retorted. “The world is chaotic. Places change, people die, and the only constant is the self. Now, if you want to squabble over the land that’s fine, but you won’t change any outcome with your talk.”
“Why can’t we just shut up about the land?” Jax asked in a mumble. Wyatt asked what he had said, but Daark didn’t need to hear. “Why does it always come back to the land?”
Wyatt touched his tongue to his top row of teeth in a pensive sort of way.
“Have you ever heard of existence justification?” Daark asked.
No, but I can guess, Jax thought.
Daark continued, staring directly into Wyatt’s eyes. “If you feel the need to justify your existence, then you haven’t become an adult. You keep having this bitter, childish struggle with existence, and you refuse to move on.”
Austin Daark had cold eyes that made Wyatt almost feel bad for existing in his presence. The thoughts about the farm drifted from his mind, and he felt a deep sort of shame. Jax couldn’t tell what Daark had done, but he could tell that a deep fear now penetrated Wyatt Emerson. Something old and long forgotten cut through the folds of Wyatt’s mind. He looked like he had the piercing fear of death, yet at the moment, he might have feared life more.
(More to come next week)