just follow the cat

Chapter 8: sliding downhill

11:57AM CST, January 28th

Lake Road below Cooper's Hill, Leasburg, Missouri

("Cowards die many times before their deaths.")

– Julius Caesar: Act 1 Scene 2

"Keep going, young man. Cowards die many times before their deaths." These were Avery Cooper's words when he saw Earl Huntington shedding his extra coats, boots, and mittens. He couldn't help but smile.

Later that day and for all the days that remained in his life, Avery would remember speaking those words before he saw Earl Huntington lose his footing and slide toward the opening of the abandoned well. While it might seem meaningless to care one way or the other, for Avery, it was matter of pride. When he told his version of the story, he remembered having foreseen all that would happen for the rest of the day. The truth of the matter was quite different. When Earl's left foot slipped, Avery was mouthing the word, "Cowards." When his right foot slipped, he was saying the word, "Die." And by the time Earl was sliding uncontrollably down the hill toward the abandoned well, Avery was softly saying the words, "Before their deaths."

For what it's worth (and despite the obvious flaws), this retelling of Earl's adventure will hew closely to Avery's recollection of events. You see, in the course of every life, there are only five or six moments that truly stand out. We are born. We die. We might marry or choose to begin a family. We endure tragedy after tragedy. But having led such a solitary life, Avery Cooper was in danger of having only the bookends of life and death to define his story on Earth. So, despite any minor inaccuracies, we will accept his version of the story. If you're uncomfortable with this approach, just think of it as a simple act of kindness for someone who accumulated so little of any real value in life and ultimately would leave behind even less. By looking the other way and accepting what is false as being true (or true enough), one old man has a story worth hearing and hundreds of people who will finally listen and care.

And nothing is wrong with that.

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Some people might have looked at the scene outside Avery's kitchen window and thought it was crazy and unpredictable. But not Avery. To the old man, Earl's movement was as predictable and as ordinary as it could be. After the boy's foot hit a slippery pile of leaves, everything from that point on was merely a question of friction and gravity. Earl's weight, the powdery snow, and the gentle slope caused the child to slide quickly toward the opening of the well. Without slowing down, Earl hit the edge and went over. That was the only thing that happened. There were no absurdly dramatic moments with Earl clinging to the side of the well and screaming for help before a mysterious passerby came to save him.

Like every other human ever born, Avery liked to daydream about how he'd respond in a crisis. He pictured himself quickly assessing the situation and almost as quickly acting to fix what needed to be fixed. He told himself that others could dream their dreamy dreams, but he would act. All his life, he had seen people clutching desperately onto the improbable. They'd tell themselves crazy stories like the one about the woman surviving on a desert island for 20 years and then sipping tea and sarcasm in the salons of New York. Those stories were always so miraculous and harrowing. And even the kernels of truth at the center of the stories were just tiny imperceptible lies. But lies, you see, are the blankets that keep us warm through the coldest days of January. If Avery knew anything, he knew about lies.

And yet, he was startled by what he saw. He didn't quickly analyze and then jump into action. At the moment Earl disappeared into the hole, Avery put his finger to his lips like every simpleton he had ever known and then heard himself repeat the words, "Cowards die many times before their deaths." He said these words several more times before finally putting his hand to his forehead and saying, "Oh. Oh no. Oh my. It can't...What have I done?"

Then in rapid order, Avery grabbed his hat, coat, and gloves from the hooks beside his kitchen door. Breathing heavily, he ran out of his house and toward the wooded hillside above the Huntington's backyard. Near the crest of hill, he heard Earl's voice from inside the well. Only then did it occur to Avery that he didn't know the boy's name. Although Earl's howling was completely unintelligible, the old man hoped (as silly as it might seem) that Earl would suddenly shout something thoughtful like, "Hey!! It's me. Earl Huntington. I've fallen into the well."

But life is never that kind. Not to the young. And especially not to the old. Being old is bad enough but having had all those extra years to rehash your past mistakes is truly horrible.

When Avery heard his kitchen door slam shut behind him, the thought that filled his mind was, "What if I'm wrong?" Just one minute before, he was certain that he had seen Earl Huntington slide into the well but maybe that wasn't what happened. Maybe the boy was playing another game. Maybe he was just hiding like boys have done every day since the sun first rose over the Earth. And how awful would it be to run down Cooper's Hill, alarm the entire town of Leasburg, and then have Earl pop out of the well like some mean-spirited Jack in the Box.

Before Avery's worries overwhelmed him, Earl screamed again and the old man smiled. He started to say, "I knew it. I knew it was true." But just as he opened his mouth his elbow clipped the trunk of a bony pine tree and Avery tumbled onto the snow. Soon, the old man was sliding feet first just as the boy had. Now, the only sounds that came out of his mouth were also unintelligible.

The ride down the hill was bumpy but (in a practical way) it seemed like the fastest way for an old man to travel. Suddenly thinking he was quite clever for having fallen, Avery pointed his feet like they were the runners on a sled. In order to move as quickly and smoothly as possible, he tried to keep his knees pressed tightly together. It wasn't possible, though, because all the bumps, twigs, sticks, and branches forced his legs apart. At one point, Avery tried to shout a word of encouragement to the boy, but his voice couldn't be heard above the awful popping and snapping sounds that accompanied him down the hill. As Avery slid, what seemed like half a bushel of walnuts and acorns hopped onto his lap.

"Nuts on top of nuts," he thought.

When he finally got to the bottom of the hill, Avery heard Earl quietly whimpering. Once again, he thought, "What is that boy's name? Is it Marty like his father? No, that was his dead brother's name."

Then he saw Martin Huntington step onto his back porch and he thought, "I was right the first time. It is Marty. I'm sure of it. It's that other one who died."

Martin Huntington stood there and did nothing. He was quiet and motionless. Ruth Huntington stood beside her husband and also did nothing. Less than a hundred feet away, their son was yowling in full throat.

Avery ran toward the Huntington's back porch and shouted, "Marty. It's Marty."

For an instant (or maybe just half an instant), the barest hint of a smile formed on Martin Huntington's face. In that moment, Martin thought, "The old man actually knows my name. I never thought he did."

Then Avery shouted, "Snap out of it, Martin. Good God, what are you doing? Get a rope. And hurry!!"

Martin Huntington blew a cloud of air from his lungs. The frosty mist seemed to encircle his head. A cloud like this should have dissipated in an instant, but it hung in the air for a while. In that time, Avery wondered if Martin would ever emerge from the cloud or if he'd hide inside there forever.

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