Writing

Mr. Montague

Mr. Montague is unconcerned about Hurricane Frank. He had just left Montague Industries' Headquarters in Eupora , Georgia , for a vacation to Florida right before it hit Opel , Alabama . He is flying across Georgia in the Montague Industries' corporate jet, sitting between Mrs. Montague, a stout but handsome woman who Mr. Montague loves and fears, and their son, who Mr. Montague loves and fears too, but for different reasons. Mr. Montague's son makes him feel vulnerable: he loves something that he cannot protect. Any minute, someone could swoop down on his son and kidnap him or break his leg.

Mr. Montague's money came primarily from the patent his father had on his only invention. It was called “Liquid Lumberjack” and it came in an aerosol can. Logging companies used it to fell trees in three squirts or less. “All you'll need,” the slogan claimed, “is someone to yell ‘Timber!'”

While Rudy Imenez is holding on to his porch railing for dear life, and the other residents of Opel are hunkering and praying below the rabid muck, Mr. Montague orders two Bloody Marys and a shot of Wild Turkey all at the same time. He is a big man and liquor only makes him drowsy. He drifts in and out of a dream of his brother and he when he was ten, his brother twelve. They took their BB guns out every day during the summer and had contests. The first bird they saw became the target species for the day, and they lined up the stiffening sparrows or robins or jays on a tree trunk and counted them as the sun descended. Mr. Montague was a much better shot than his brother, and his bloody, feathered piles were sometimes twice as large. His brother argued that sometimes the birds he shot were simply blown to pieces, but though he had a piece of a wing or a foot to prove it, Mr. Montague would not accept this as evidence of a killing. He told his brother:

“It's like a dollar bill. You can't spend just a little piece of one.” In the dream, Mr. Montague hit birds from incredible distances, and the corpses piled up quickly. Sometimes he had three or four bodies when he approached what he thought was a single felled target. He felt very good about his aim, but a little disgusted with all the gore. Mrs. Montague appeared and tried to shoot a few times, but either her gun fired only a cork on a string that flung itself back at her, or she did not come close to hitting anything at all.

As Mr. Montague nods, his son looks out the window. This is his first plane trip. He thinks he can see, in the distance, green and heavy gray clouds. They look ominous, but they are too far away for him to be sure.