Matthew Dunn - Slingshot

I’m also sure that a man of your intellect will understand that not all of our dealings can be civilized. If I told you to back down or face the consequences, I’m convinced you’d eschew the former in favor of the latter. That inevitable decision has placed me into a rather brutish tactical stance. I don’t like that stance, but you put me there, and here I am.

You won’t back down because you are not afraid. But you might for something else.

I’m going to give you a name for you to refer to me by. It is not connected to me and no one else has this name. But it’s a label, eases our introduction to each other, and has been carefully chosen in order to remind you of the consequences of your actions.

Before I do so, know this:

If you don’t stop, I will find the name and location of someone you care about.

And I will savage that person.

Yours,

William

Stefan stopped and looked back down the mountain. In German, he said, “Come on, you two. We’re nearly there.”

His ten-year-old twin sons were several yards below him and were struggling with the walk.

“We’re tired, Daddy.”

“Can we stop for a rest?”

“Not yet.” Stefan waited for them to catch up while looking at the view. No matter how many times he’d made this journey, the splendor of the Black Forest mountain range always captivated him. Today there was a clear blue sky and snow was only present on the very highest peaks. At the base of the mountain, his car was now a red dot, stationary next to a glistening, tranquil lake. “Another two hundred yards, then we can rest, eat, and play.”

Mathias reached him first and asked, “If we keep doing this, will we be as strong as you, Daddy?”

Stefan smiled. “Maybe stronger.”

Panting and red faced, Wendell drew closer and said, “I don’t know anymore if I want to be strong like Daddy.”

Stefan put his arms around his boys. “You’ve both done well today. Just you wait until I tell Mummy how far you walked. She’ll be so proud of you.”

“Are you proud of us?”

Stefan beamed. “I’m the proudest daddy in the world.” He lifted both boys so that they were snug against his waist and said, “I think you’ve walked far enough. Next time we’ll see if you can make it all the way to the top.”

Carrying them in one arm each, the big schoolteacher strode onward up the mountain. His breathing was relaxed, and the cool air felt good against his smooth face.

Wendell giggled. “It’s like being on a camel.”

Mathias laughed and chanted, “Daddy’s a camel. Daddy’s a camel.”

Stefan grinned. “Camels don’t like mountains and they can’t do this.”

To the children’s delight, Stefan broke into a run, leaping over uneven ground, sprinting fast despite the incline of the mountain and the weight of his burden. Reaching the summit, he placed them down, breathed in deeply, and said, “I think I was more like a horse. What do you think?”

Mathias frowned. “Maybe a donkey.”

Wendell shook his head. “Donkeys don’t run.”

“Yes they do, stupid.”

“No they don’t. Not uphill anyway.”

Stefan looked around. The peak wasn’t high enough for snow, and the area was covered with grass and a few boulders. Removing his knapsack, he pointed at a spot of open ground and said, “This will do us nicely.” They sat together and Stefan stretched out his legs as he began rummaging in the sack. He withdrew a Tupperware box, a bottle of water, and a metal flask. “Let’s see what Mummy has made us for lunch.” From the box, he took out cold meat sandwiches that had been wrapped in waxed paper, a salt-cured sausage, a small jar of homemade pickle relish, a hunk of Bierkaese cheese, and three slices of the stollen cake that his wife had baked for Christmas. Laying the spread on top of the sack, he stated, “Food fit for mountain kings!”

The boys grabbed the sandwiches and began devouring them. Stefan withdrew a penknife from his fleece jacket, opened the blade, and sliced into the sausage. After unscrewing the jar of relish, he dipped his knife into it, coated a piece of the meat, and tossed the food into his mouth. It tasted very good. “Okay, so what do we know about the Black Forest?”

Both boys instantly raised their hands.

Stefan nodded at Wendell.

In between chewing his food, the child said, “The Romans called it ‘Black Forest’ because the trees are so close together that there’s no light inside the forest.”

“That’s good, Wendell. Mathias?”

“The highest mountain is the Feldberg.”

“How tall is it?”

Mathias hesitated. “Four thousand six hundred. . no. .”

Wendell interrupted. “I know! I know!”

Mathias darted an angry look at his brother. “It’s my turn to answer.” He held his fingers in front of his face. “Four thousand eight hundred. . and ninety-eight feet.”

Stefan rubbed the boy’s shoulder. “Excellent. Now, Wendell. What’s the name of the state that administers the forest?”

Wendell narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me the answer. .” He lowered his head, then looked up quickly. “Baden-Wurttemberg.”

“Correct.” Stefan cut himself another slice of sausage. “The state has a big responsibility.”

“But why, Daddy? Nobody comes here. We never see anyone when we do our walks.”

“That’s because we’re not in a tourist area. And a place can be important even if people don’t visit it.” He smiled. “Anyway, we like being on our own, don’t we?”

The boys grinned as they took more mouthfuls of their sandwiches.

Stefan placed his knife down and began unscrewing the flask’s cap. “Last question. Who can tell me if there are any dangerous animals in the forest?”

The boys nudged each other, clearly excited by the question. “Are there wolves here?”

Stefan poured tea into a cup. “There used to be lots of them. Not so many these days.”

“Are they very dangerous?”

Stefan smiled. “Only if you get close to them. They don’t like that.”

The boys turned to each other and broke into a private conversation.

“Even if they are really dangerous, they’re not as strong as Daddy.”

“Yes, Daddy would be able to defeat a whole pack of them.”

“He’d probably kill the wolf leader first.”

“Then the others would run away.”

“Or maybe they’d make Daddy the new wolf leader.”

Stefan took a sip of his tea and marveled at the way his sons worshipped him. He knew it wouldn’t last. In three or four years they’d be disagreeing with everything he said and stood for. That wouldn’t matter because he loved his boys unconditionally, though he had to admit that it did make him feel good when they talked about him in such admiring terms. Part of him wished they could stay as children forever. “You’ve both forgotten about a creature in the forest that is far more dangerous than a wolf.”

The boys’ eyes widened, their expressions expectant. “Tell us!”

“ Lumbricus badensis . The giant earthworm.”

“It lives here?”

Stefan nodded. “Only in the Black Forest.”

“How big is it?”

In truth, the worms could grow to two feet, but Stefan liked to enrich his sons’ imaginations. “Fifteen feet long, and three feet wide.”

“Wow! Does it have teeth?”

“It has fangs. Five rows of them, all razor sharp and as long as your arms.”

“Where’s its home?”

“It hides under the ground, making huge tunnels in the mountains and in the valleys. It only breaks through the surface to feed.”