01 January - the drowning at Los Gatos

the Afflicted, the Restricted, and the Respectable

12:07PM CST, January 28th

Lake Road at Cooper's Hill, Leasburg, Missouri

("Speak.")

The splashing sound that came from the well wasn't made by Earl Huntington. It was made by Earl's boot. When the rope slipped from Earl's hand, the boot also slipped from the boy's foot and broke through the wafer-thin ice at the bottom of the well. It happened just as Avery had predicted and the people gathered there might have congratulated the old man if the splash hadn't been followed so closely by Earl's scream. It was a horrible, heart-piercing scream that lasted for several horrible, heart-piercing seconds. Then it ended. Just like that. It ended. But not because Earl was out of danger or because that danger had overcome him. It stopped because Avery Cooper asked the boy a question and the words quieted Earl. Avery's words also quieted the shouts, cries, Oh my Gods, and even the bits of laughter that were rising from the crowd.

Avery said, "Son, are you in the water now or still hanging on?"

With surprising calm, Earl answered, "Same place as before. Hanging on to a stump, but I lost one of my boots, so my foot is really cold. And my hands are cold, too."

In quick sequence, Avery began issuing orders to the crowd.

"Pull up the rope."

"Quickly now."

"You, Lucas. Tie a knot in the top."

"It doesn't matter what kind of knot. It just has to fit under the boy's arms."

"And you over there. Get another lantern."

"Now, bring the boy's mother over here to me. He'll want to hear her voice."

Then the old man heard the crowd stirring behind him. Although he might have turned around to verify what was happening, he didn't actually need to. He was absolutely positive that the loosely bound group had now formed itself into shells. The boundaries would be invisible, of course, but Avery could imagine the separations between them as if they were painted in bright colors on the snow.

Decades before, Avery and his fellow barkers and huskers assigned names to each of these shells. The innermost group was called The Afflicted. Those were the people who couldn't leave the show, in fact, would never think of missing a single moment of the performance. They were the Huntingtons and the Prindles of the world. The Afflicted had paid for their tickets with an excess of emotion and would stay close to the stage until the curtain came down and the lights were turned out.

The next group was called The Restricted – the ones with hearts that were locked away from sadness, joy, and anything else found at the extremes of human experience. In most cases, there were only a few of these sprinkled about. However, despite their numbers, The Restricted controlled the mood of the group. Although they rarely bought tickets, they would laugh harder, gasp louder, smirk more often, and bite through their lips until they bled. Then miraculously, they'd lie about it later.

Finally, on the periphery of the crowd, you'd find The Respectable. This was generally the largest of the three groups. The Respectable were never quite sure if they should come close to the stage or whether they should watch the show at all. Nonetheless, they were people who would tell and retell the story of Earl's visit to the bottom of the well long after the other groups had forgotten the details. They are the proud, the vain, the elusive, the quislings, the traitors to one another. They are all of us.

Ellen Prindle brought Ruth Huntington to Avery's side. At this point, Ruth's whole body was shaking. Her shoulders were rocking so violently that Ellen had to catch the blanket draped over them so it wouldn't fall onto the snow. Or worse yet, into the well itself. In fact, Ellen Prindle was shaking too. Whether it was from cold or fear or some unknown cause, her trembling wouldn't stop.

The men were also shaking, as they anxiously tried to tie bowline knots into both ends of the rope. Though they knew that any knot would be good enough as long as it was tight, they also believed that bowlines were the strongest of all knots and tying it was the least they could do. Yet, in the nervousness of the moment, they found it difficult to get that stubborn cat (or maybe it was a rabbit) to go up the hole, around the tree, and back down the hole.

Avery Cooper took Ruth Huntington's shaking hand. It was quivering so hard that his hand shook along with hers. Feeling her body lean against his chest, he called down to Earl, "Son, your mother will speak to you now. The rest of us are preparing to get you out. Very soon, someone will be coming down the shaft. It won't take us long, but until then your mother will be with you."

Ruth Huntington looked at Avery who looked away. Though he never touched her, his next command was like a firm punch in the stomach. A jolt that came out of the blue (blue) sky.

"Speak," he said.

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