William Meikle: Infestation

“Since when do I have to ask you first, Randy?” Hank asked. Normally, he was able to keep his cool around this guy, but all the tensions of their flight down to South America, not to mention the funding wars the two of them had been fighting for the last several months against each other, were taking their toll on his calm. “I’ve been doing these expeditions since you were learning your ABCs with Big Bird.”

“Yeah, back when your expeditions to gather rare frogs actually found frogs,” Randy said. “Look, I told you I don’t want to fight about this.”

That was a lie, and they both knew it. Randy got off on their rivalry, just as he enjoyed the fact that he’d managed to get the Folger Institute to reduce Hank’s funding. Although Hank couldn’t prove it, he even though Randy’s only reason for being here was to gather more fuel for the idea that Dr. Hank Newstead was in need of an early retirement. Not that Hank didn’t necessarily agree; these expeditions were getting harder and harder on his body, and he still had a respectable income and profession in teaching. But the idea of being forced out of something that had defined most of his life was something he just couldn’t and wouldn’t tolerate. If Randall Folger wanted a fight out of him, then that’s what he was going to get.

“All I’m saying,” Randy said, “is that it’s okay for you to let someone else take over some of the planning and duties on this expedition.”

“I absolutely agree,” Hank said.

“Of course,” Randy said, then did a double take. “Wait, you do?”

“I do. That’s why I’ve already handed over most of the planning duties to Jasmine.”

“Jasmine? Seriously? But she’s just your TA. She doesn’t have my…” He pulled up short, but Hank knew full well that the man had been about to say my money . Not that it was even his money. His grandfather had founded the Folger Institute, and it was his grandfather’s fortune that funded all this. In Randy’s mind, that meant he was the one who had done all this and deserved the credit. “She doesn’t have any experience in the field.”

Neither do you , Hank thought. “She knows what she’s doing.”

“Look, you’re obviously not thinking clearly,” Randy said. He patted Hank on the back in a gesture that was probably supposed to look good-natured, yet somehow instead came off as demeaning. “We’ll talk about this later, after we’re out in the field.”

Randy walked away before Hank could say anything. Morgan came up to Hank after the little bastard was gone. He lit a cigarette and offered one to Hank, which Hank declined. Hank always declined, and yet Morgan always offered. It was as much a part of their long-standing routine as the “introduction” line.

“Kid’s gunning for your job,” Morgan said around a puff of smoke. It was a statement rather than a question.

“It’s certainly seemed that way for a while now,” Hank said.

“You know as well as I do, a lot of accidents can happen out on the Amazon,” Morgan said. He said it nonchalantly, playfully, so much that anyone else might not have realized that Morgan was being dead serious. “It would be a shame if something went down and the little rat bastard never came back.”

Hank made sure that Morgan was looking him in the eyes as he replied to ensure that the captain knew he was serious. “Nothing is to happen to him. Nothing at all. I don’t work that way, understand?”

“Of course I understand,” Morgan said. “And I knew you’d say that. Just as you knew I had to offer.”

“And just as you know that I’m appreciative in my own way,” Hank said.

“Seriously, though, you’ve got to be getting close to retiring from this kind of thing, right?”

Hank looked at Erin. “Maybe,” Hank said. “Maybe it’s time for other things. But I get to make that choice, not people like Randy.”

Erin saw him looking at her from her place near the end of the dock. Everyone and everything was on the boat now except her, Hank, and Morgan, and as Hank watched, she boarded. Not, however, before giving him the most beautiful smile and a cute little wave.

“Come on then,” Morgan said. He put out his half-way finished cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before putting the rest in the pocket of his shirt. “Time to shove off.”

Hank followed him, wondering idly if this would really be his last time boarding the Lucky Lucy and going out to explore the Amazon.

Copyright 2017 by William Meikle

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