Bats

By Rick Bramhall

Ed and Joe Bob are two typical teens living in the United States. Out of school for the summer, they come across what they think is a great way to make some money. They grow and learn that summer, like they've never lived before. From encounters with drug cartels, to indigenous liberation fighters, to a tricky native shaman, to new-found love, they have a summer they'll never forget. Based in part on the author's own experiences in Mexico and partly on his work as a community activist working on the immigration issue while living in San Diego.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rick Bramhall
• Release date: Jun 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463654170

Rick Bramhall

I was born in 1952 and grew up Hawthorne, California. Served in the US Air Force from 1975-79. My longest gig was working in Medical Information at the Loma Linda VA from 1979-89. Got my BA from Cal State San Bernardino in 1989. Taught 8th Grade Language Arts 1990-94. Volunteered at the Santa Rosa Plateau Ecological Reserve from about 1997-2004. I moved to San Diego in 2009 to be nearer family. In 2019 I moved to Yuma AZ, as rent became too high in SD. In 2021, my place in Yuma burned down and I moved to Tucson to be nearer my childhood friend, Carl Harrison. I'm currently involved as a community activist.

Book preview

Bats

by Rick Bramhall

Copyright 2020 by Rick Bramhall

Cover art Flying Fox by Rick Bramhall copyright 2019

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, are coincidental and not intended by the author.

Smashwords Edition

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given

away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not

purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you.

In memory of Mr. Kirkpatrick, my high school creative writing teacher

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Other E-Books by the Author

About the Author

Chapter 1

Ed and Joe Bob, because it was summer, were out of school. And because they were out of school, they were in the pool hall, even though they were technically too young. They were allowed, though, because Ed's uncle owned the bar. As long as they didn't drink anything stronger than beer, his uncle let them spend their summers there.

Ed was not short for Edward, or even Edwin. That might seem unusual, and alright it was, but it

made sense if you knew the whole story. Ed's mom had died in childbirth, not long after the nurse

asked her what she wanted to name to baby boy. She said, Ed -- and then died. Everybody assumed that she meant to say more, but nobody wanted to take the responsibility.

Joe Bob, on the other hand, was actually named Joseph Robert. But he liked the sound of Joe Bob and so called himself that. His mama hated it, which was another good reason.

Joe Bob had on his favorite tee shirt, which was black. Actually, all of his tee shirts were black. But he especially liked this one because it had his favorite band on it. At least it used to. He wore the shirt so much that all the colors faded away. He thought it probably had said Devil Slayer, because that was one of his favorite bands. But he wasn't sure.

Ed had on a black tee shirt, too, but it never had had any ink on it. This was because it had a shirt

pocket, which was necessary because the guys had to have a place to put their cigarettes. So there was a good reason it had never said anything and they were both alright with that.

They both had on jeans because jeans were cool. They fit in them kind of tight because they were

old jeans, bought by their mamas when they weren't quite so big. The reason why the pants were old was because they had to be faded. Of course.

Both boys were working as hard as they ever had in their entire lives. Concentrating on a cushion

shot into a side pocket took a lot of mental agility but they gave it their best anyway. Pool was important in their young lives.

But then a stranger walked into the bar and both boys inched nearer to their suds, just in case they had to swallow the rest real sudden-like. The man ignored them, though, and nodded to Ed's uncle.

Give me a beer, he said.

Suddenly the room got real quiet, although there was only the four of them in there. Neither boy

said anything because they didn't want to get kicked out and besides, the uncle was raising Ed after his mother died, so they had some respect for him.

And if that wasn't enough, the stranger was wearing a suit. Actually he was wearing a sports coat

and slacks, but that passed for a suit in this little town. It was odd, though, not only because it was hot

outside but because it was the weekend. Who'd wear a suit unless they had to for work?

Well, that's strangers for you. What did he think, that Ed's uncle only had one brand of beer? It wasn't that small a town.

Well, Ed's uncle was known around town as a sensitive sort and so he was kind of embarrassed for the guy. So he asked him kind of softly what kind of beer the man wanted.

Give me the best beer you got, barkeep! the man said real loud.

And even though Ed and Joe Bob couldn't see much of his face because he was turned away from

them, they could see enough to know the fellow was smiling. Maybe he thought it was funny that the

bartender was embarrassed for him. So the boys gave him the cold shoulder and went back to their game.

The stranger must have decided to speak softly after that, like the uncle did. Because the two young ones couldn't hear much that was said after that. As though they'd want to.

All of a sudden they heard Ed's uncle say Bat shit? real loud, as though maybe he hadn't heard the fellow right.

Ed and Joe Bob weren't sure they'd heard right, either. Real quietly they put their cue sticks down on the pool table, just to make sure they caught the rest of the conversation. The boys had been friends

since they were little kids and so looked at each other at the exact same time, as two people will do whose lives are in sync.

That's right, the stranger said calmly, as though he'd said the most normal thing in the world.

You do have bats around here, don't you?

I guess we do. I mean, I don't know, rightly. Can't think if I've ever seen one.

I am in the right town, aren't I? the man asked, still sounding like he thought he was being real

reasonable. This is Jointville, isn't it?

Ed could tell Joe Bob was about to snigger, because that's what his friend did whenever he heard

anyone use 'is' instead of 'ain't. He looked over at his friend and sure enough, there's that look on his face. The two were that tight, they could tell things like that about each other.

I was under the impression, the hear the stranger continued, "that you have a pretty good-sized

cave around here."

Ed's uncle has this look on his face like he's relieved. As though what the man said now made sense. Ed figured he was just being polite to the man.

Well, yes we do, said Ed's uncle, whose name was Solomon for some reason. "But people kept on going in there and never finding their way out. On account of that, it's been closed for many a year

now."

You don't say, said the stranger, as though he'd just heard the most amazing but sorrowful thing. Did you fellows close it by putting iron bars on it, so the bats could keep flying out? When Solomon

shook his head no, the fellow couldn't find any more words to say than, You don't say.

Then this guy shook his head, although he probably didn't mean the same thing. More like he was saying, It's a crying shame. Just like someone had died or something.

No other way out of that cave, huh? he threw out as though he knew he was wasting his breath

but felt he had to ask, anyway. From the right hand pocket of his sport coat he took out what

apparently was a map, all folded up. Anyway, he unfolded it right there at the bar, right on top of the bar counter.

A thick finger poked at one spot on the map, then traced something that might have been a river,

because it seemed to wander quite a bit. How about Shelbyville? he asked. "Know if they got any

caves out that way?"

No sir, Solomon said, being extra polite, the way he was around people who started to get on his

nerves. Not that I know of.

No spelunkers in this part of the country, eh?

"We did have a couple, a few years back. But we ran them out of town when they started acting

way too obvious-like," Ed's uncle answered as truthfully as he knew how.

The stranger laughed out loud at this, laughed louder than a man should who was a stranger in

town. Well, I guess I'll just mosey on, then, he said. He had that map folded back up in a jiffy, then reached for his hat. His hand paused there, until he remembered he hadn't come in wearing a hat. He laughed again, a little more quietly this time, shook his head one last time for good measure and was out the door.

Both boys looked at Solomon at the same time, in the same way, because that's how best friends operate. Solomon looked out the door to make sure the stranger was far enough away before breaking out laughing himself. Half of his delight was in the expression on the two young men's faces.

Bat shit? Ed asked. Joe Bob knew better than to repeat it because he remembered the last time he'd cussed in front of Ed's uncle.

Solomon smiled liked he'd just heard the funniest dirty joke in the world. "It's a wonder by me,

boys, he admitted. That fellow claimed to be looking for bat shit."

Joe Bob looked kind of solemn. He didn't look all that crazy to me.

Well, maybe he ain't, said Ed's uncle. "He didn't call it that at first. At first, he asked if I knew

where he could buy some guano. He claimed that's the official name of the stuff."

Why in the world... Ed began and just let it hang in the room.

Claims it makes the best fertilizer in the world, Solomon said, by way of explanation. "He says

the stuff is worth it's weight in gold. Now, I'm with you, Joe Bob. He didn't look crazy or even sound

all that crazy. Not for a stranger anyw..."

The two youngsters didn't even had to look at each other. They knew what the other was thinking. They were out that door as though shot out a gun.

Luckily for them, there was a little traffic, that morning, that the stranger had to wait for before backing out of his parking space. "Hey mister! yelled Ed.

Wait! yelled Joe Bob.

The stranger squinted at them, even though the sun wasn't in his eyes. "You two were in the bar,

right?" he asked.

Yes sir, said Joe Bob, and we're old enough to be in there, too.

I'm sure you are, the man answered evenly. What can I do you for?

We, um, we heard you're looking to buy some ah...guano? Ed hazarded, hoping he got the

pronunciation right.

That's right, the gentleman agreed. You two know where I can get some? We might, hedged Joe Bob.

How much you willing to pay? added Ed. They liked to work like a team like that, one setting

'em up, the other going in for the kill.

The man had his baseball hat on now and he tilted it back on his head. Well, now, you got to understand I'm a broker, he cautioned. "I'm kind of a middle man, you might say. I don't sell retail

myself, I pass it on to others. Everybody takes their cut, see?'

He looked at the two long and hard. It wasn't clear whether they saw what he was talking about or not. If they didn't, no harm lost. For all he knew, these two might have trouble finding their butts with both hands.

For what it was worth, he handed them his business card. After driving out here all the way, it's the

least he could do. Price varies, he said in his best professional businessman voice. These days wholesale has been wavering around $20 a pound. He can almost hear their jaws hit the ground.

Call me if you find some, he yelled as he shifted into drive. "Keep in mind, though, I only deal

in quantities of a hundred pounds or more. This ain't chickenshit!"

And with those final words, the stranger sped off, hoping to make his next stop before nightfall.

Joe Bob and Ed studied the card real hard, as though it might be on a test the next day. Ed put the

card in his tee shirt pocket, for safekeeping.

You know of any caves that aren't boarded up?

Shoot, Ed, I don't know anything that you don't know.

Ed nodded. He knew it was like that. But somethings you just have to ask, even though you know

the answer. Some things were that important.

They headed back inside, both thinking the exact same thing. A hundred pounds at $20 each would buy a lot of beer.

There's only the one cave in these here parts, Solomon announced to them as they reentered the bar.

Yeah, well, it didn't hurt to ask, Ed mumbled.

They went back to playing their game of pool, pretending like that was the end of that. But each

knew what the other was thinking. They kept looking at the clock, not quite believing how long it was until lunch.

Where you two going? Solomon demanded to know.

My mom's making us hot dogs for lunch, Joe Bob explained, not daring to look Ed's uncle in the

eye. That was slicker than grease, he told himself. Joe Bob, you're getting to be quite the liar, my man.

Chapter 2

Ed had to stop as they hiked along the main street. Stop a minute, Joe Bob. I'm trying to figure something. He was fiddling with his phone.

Twenty times 100? Joe Bob asked, all casual-like. He peered over his buddy's shoulder. "Holy

smokes! Are you sure you figured that right?"

Ed snorted. They were best friends, but sometime Joe Bob could be a little slow. "It's a computer,

dawg. It's got to be right."

They stood there, halfway across the street, staring at the screen on Ed's cell phone. Luckily,

someone honked before trying to run them over. Once on the other side of the road, they just stood there grinning at each other like idiots.

Man, Ed broke the silence first, "that's more than we could probably make if we worked all

summer."

And it ain't going to take all summer to shovel up a hundred pounds, Joe Bob agreed. I wonder how much a pound of bat shit weighs? Ed wondered aloud.

Can't be that much, Joe Bob replied. "I have to clean out the cat's box and its shit don't weigh

much at all."

As they wandered over to Joe Bob's house, they tried to figure out what more they'd need to know. They decided that the hard part would be finding a cave. The only cave they knew of was the Belmont Cave, called that because it was on Old Man Belmont's property.

That's boarded up pretty good and tight, Ed admitted as they looked through the refrigerator at Joe Bob's house.

And your Uncle Solomon, if he says there's no other entrance, then there's no other entrance.

Yeah, I reckon Unc probably knows the land around here about as good as anyone, Ed had to

admit.

Yet the two weren't about to give up that easy. Not for $2,000 cash for a few hours of shoveling. They each told their parents that night that the next day they were going to go out camping for a few days.

Joe Bob's mom just said, That's nice, dear.

But Ed's uncle just laughed. He knew what the boys were up to. But he wasn't worried. He knew

that land like the back of his hand. If he'd thought there was any chance they'd find another cave out there he would have put his foot down and not allowed it.

That night the boys eagerly coordinated supplies over the phone. Each had his backpack he used during the school year and each household had at least one sleeping bag. And of course each had their own water bottle.

The only thing left was food.

We got a couple of pieces of chicken left from dinner tonight, Joe Bob offered.

Awesome! We've got cornbread left over.

Other than that, the only thing both could think to bring was the makings for peanut butter

sandwiches. One thing they knew for sure was that they didn't want to do any cooking, or have any

dirty dishes to wash. It was finally agreed that Ed would bring a full loaf of bread and Joe Bob would bring a nearly-full jar of peanut butter.

Both sets of parents were impressed that the boys got going relatively early in the morning.

Usually during the summer, they liked to sleep in, most days. Joe Bob and Ed felt good about things,

too. Ed had found a couple of pieces of leftover pizza in his refrigerator that weren't much more than a couple of days old. They felt like their luck was changing for the better.

It was a real good thing that they started early because it was, after all, summer and the day heated

up right quickly. It didn't take too long for there to be a sharp drop in their water supply. Ed was the first to notice, since his water bottle was clear.

Dang, he pronounced, holding up his bottle to eye level. "We better start taking it easy on the

water."

They weren't too worried, though, as they knew full well there was a creek not far from the

boarded-up entrance to the Belmont Cave. They decided to hold off on the chicken until they reached the spot they planned to camp at that night. Manning up, they made the pizza hold them until then.

Hey! Don't you two know better than to do that? A loud, deep voice yelled at them just as they were refilled their water bottles at the creek.

They were startled so badly, they both dropped their plastic bottles. Adding insult to injury, or the

other way around, Joe Bob slipped on a wet stone and ended up in the water on his back. The water

wasn't deep, only a couple of inches, but it was ice cold. Both lept up and onto the nearest bank without even thinking.

Irritated, they looked around for whoever had caused them so much trouble. He wasn't hard to find. A huge man came striding quickly toward them.

Irritation quickly gave way to something more like trepidation as the man they knew only vaguely as Bearman came lumbering their way. As pissed as they'd been, it was nothing compared to the look of anger on the big man's face as he rumbled up on them. He was intimidating enough when he was in a good mood and this was a side neither boy had hoped they'd ever meet.

Some said Bearman was named that because he was an expert on bears. But most people knew that couldn't be true because there hadn't been a bear in these parts in ages. Most figured he got the name because of the way he looked.

Besides being really big, well over six feet tall and probably close to 300 pounds, Bearman was

also really hairy. He had hair coming out of everywhere, including his ears. His uncombed hair was in

close contact with eyebrows that were shaped like they could take flight. The man's beard was the

neatest thing about him and that was only because it was so full and heavy that gravity had trained it.

Are you two trying to get the runs? he demanded. His anger left as soon as it arrived, though,

when he saw that the kids had no idea what he was talking about. Little could he know that his mention of diarrhea had puckered up their anal sphincters like they'd just sucked lemons.

But we're out in nature, Joe Bob pointed out.

There's probably no place left in the world with clean water, least of all the United States,

explained Bearman. If it's not coming out of a faucet in the US of A, you need to boil it these days.

Yeah, we were going to do that, Ed replied weakly.

What? In plastic bottles? What in the hell you two doing out here, anyway?

One thing everyone in town agreed upon was that Bearman didn't care much for money or the

ways of the world. So the two teens had no trouble explaining to him their get-rich scheme. They knew ahead of time that he wasn't about to steal their idea.

Joe Bob and Ed spent the night at Bearman's place, a hut that was little more than a lean-to. They agreed to this arrangement only after the latter had promised them that tomorrow he'd show them the other exits from the cave. He was adamant that there were no other entrances.

That night, around a campfire just outside the all-wood hut, Bearman told them what little he knew about bats. He was only minimally interested to hear that their shit made good fertilizer. Instead he told them that bats were related to shrews, a word that meant absolutely nothing to the boys.

A shrew is like a mouse, only it eats insects instead of seeds, he explained patiently.

As they spread out their sleeping bags inside, Ed noticed something. Dude, you don't got a floor.

What in tarnation do you think you're on, the wall? The two boys were to learn a lot this

summer, including an expanded definition of what constitutes a floor. In spite of misgivings over suspected insects and snakes, the two slept well that night.

The next morning, Joe Bob and Ed exchanged some of their bread and peanut butter for some

small, funny-colored eggs that tasted just fine. Then they set out for the cave. At least, that's where they thought they were going.

It was a steady uphill climb from where they'd spent the night.

I thought the cave was over that way, said Ed, pointing vaguely to his right.

Then Bearman had some explaining to do about how caves work. That they're more than just their

entrance. Why, we're standing on top of the cave right now. Ed and Joe Bob looked down at their feet, duly impressed.

Once they'd reached the crescendo of the dome, so to speak, Bearman led them towards the

middle, onto an outcrop of flat rock with nothing growing on it. They were almost right on top of it before they notice the hole in the ground.

It wasn't very large, maybe three feet in diameter, at most. Ed was the first to stick his head in it.

Hello! The sound echoed from deep inside. Then it was Joe Bob's turn. Then the two teens took

turns. In between, they fell about laughing. Bearman patiently waited until the novelty wore off.

"Why