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Death By Black Flies

James Bates

    The headline read, Man Saved After Spending Night In Woods. Nearly Eaten Alive By Insects.
    “Damn,” Sue slammed the paper down, grinning ear to ear.
    On the bar stool next to her, Jane said, “What?”
    “That gives me an idea for Frank.”
    “What now?” her sister asked ready for anything. She couldn’t stand the guy.
    Sue took a gulp of beer, belched and said, “Take a look.” She rolled up her sleeve, showing her sister a fresh bruise on her arm. “This is what I got all because he had a bad day at work.”
    “That friggin’ jerk! “Jane spat and motioned to their waitress, holding up three fingers, a beer for each of them and one for Gloria, their youngest sister, who was just now making her way through the crowd at The Rooster Roost from the restroom.
    “Did you get me one?” Gloria asked, pulling up a stool and plopping her elbows on the table.
    Jane nodded, yes, then she pointed to Sue, “We’ve got major league problem. Frank’s at it again.”
    Sue pulled back her sleeve and showed Gloria who took a one look and blew up, “Shit. We’ve got to put a stop to that bastard.”
    “I’m already working on an idea,” Sue said, grinning. It just came to me.” She pointed at the newspaper headline. “I’ll tell you about it. It has to do with insect repellent.”
    Jane and Gloria both laughed, thinking their oldest sister was joking. Then they saw the determined look in her eye and realized she wasn’t kidding, she was deadly serious. They leaned in and listened, the noise of the bar fading into the background. When Sue was done explaining her idea her sisters agreed, it really was a good plan. Ingenious, even. They clinked their bottles to seal the deal, because if there was one thing all three of the sisters agreed on it was this: That jerk Frank more than deserved it. He had it coming.
    When he wasn’t making life a living hell for his wife, Frank Jackson worked as a maintenance engineer at the Duluth Water Treatment Plant. It wasn’t glamorous work, his title notwithstanding, and couldn’t hide the fact that his main job was to clean raw sewage from the three treatment tanks every day before they were filled to begin their transformation from sewer water to drinking water. He hated the work, but he had a temper and could never hold a job for more than a year or two, so he took what he could get. Sue and he had been married for twenty-four years and Sue’s two sisters had never liked him. The marriage was doomed from the start due to Frank’s temper, the bruises on Sue’s body a constant reminder of his violent tendencies. Divorce was not an option, and Sue had stayed with him to protect her two daughters, Colette and Jessie. Things had gotten worse in the last few years, however, ever since young Jessie had left home for the west coast.
    Sue’s plan was based on Frank’s true passion in life, hunting. He loved being in the woods and enjoyed the power he had over killing defenseless creatures. His favorite prey was white-tailed deer. Every fall he planned carefully what he called The Hunt, and eagerly looked forward to spending ten days alone at his hunting shack fifty miles north of Duluth on a forty acre tract of land in second cut aspen forest he’d purchased in the early years of his marriage (without Sue’s knowledge or consent of course.)
    Frank’s annual hunt was what Sue counted on to make her plan work. And what a plan it was, so simple in its design, elegant, even. She was going to mix honey in with his insect repellent in hopes that the insects would do to Frank what they’d failed to do to that poor guy she’d read about in the newspaper. The black flies and misquotes and horse flies and deer flies would be drawn to the sweet tasting repellent Frank spread on his body and they would, literally, eat him alive.
    She chuckled to herself when, a week before hunting season and Frank at work, she spent a mellow afternoon putting together the essential ingredients: half honey and half repellent. She enjoyed toying the formula, finding that it mixed up really well, once she warmed the concoction in a pan on the stove.
    She gave the palm sized bottle to Frank the night before he was to leave saying, “Here you go Frank. I got you a fresh supply of Deet. Now you’ll be all set.” Liquid Deet was the insect repellent most serious hunters used. It was better than spray because it was easy to apply exactly where you wanted it without any waste or unwanted aroma. Frank took it from her hand without saying a word and went back to filling a bag with ammunition. Go for it, Sue thought to herself, knock yourself out.
    She and her sisters had a celebration party at the Rooster Roost the night of the day he left and laughed amongst themselves, drinking their beers and toasting many times over to never seeing him again. They were right, they never did. Alive, anyway.
    Later that fall, when Frank’s body was discovered, badly bitten and partially decomposed, all of the medical professionals who viewed the remains remarked that they’d never seen anything like it.
    Dr. Koivou, the medical examiner for Tamarack County said, in his statement to the press, “It appears that Mr. Jackson was having some problems with the black flies that are so prevalent in the area. It seems as if he tried to run away from them, tripped over a log at the edge of a ravine and broke his neck as he fell to the bottom. His blood alcohol content quite high, and that may have contributed to his fall. It was autumn, the leaves were falling, and soon they covered him completely. That’s why it took us so long to find him. He’d been dead for nearly four weeks as best we could tell.”
    Hmm, thought Sue, after hearing the doctor’s report. So Frank had actually fallen and broken his neck. Oh, well, it sounded like the doctored insect repellent helped contribute to his demise, so that was good. Anyway, the end result was the same. He was gone for good and that made her happy.
    These days Sue keeps a copy of the medical statement framed on the wall in her bedroom. She looks at it every night and smiles, thinking of the last hours of Franks life, the hurt and pain that she imagines he suffered.
    After what he put me through, he got what he deserved, she often thinks to herself, especially when she remembers the violence he subjected her to during the years she was married to him.
    Occasionally she wonders if, at the end of Frank’s life, he might have thought of her. She grins, hoping that he did. In her mind she sees him he lying helplessly at the bottom of the ravine reaching out to her for help, while she looks down and laughs at him before offering him some more sweetened insect repellant.
    “Here you go, you jerk, have some of this,” she says, as she pours it over him and watches the black flies and (hopefully) other biting insects attack even more viciously. Then she turns away and leaves him to his fate, not even bothering to listen to his screams.
    Life for Sue is lots better these days. She’s got a new boyfriend, the bartender from the Rooster Roost where she and her sisters meet at least once a week to catch up. He’s not too bad. He’s a hunter, like Frank was, so there’s that. He has a temper, but he hasn’t hit her, so that’s good. At least not yet. After years of Frank’s abuse, she’ll never put up with that kind of behavior again. Ever.
    You see, the past is never far behind, and the future...Well, let’s just say it’s the future she feels she needs to be prepared for. And Sue definitely is prepared. She keeps a bottle of her special insect repellant hidden in the bottom drawer of her dresser just in case. Because you just never know. Nowadays there’s only just so much she’s willing to put up with. Getting hurt again by some idiotic boyfriend? No way. And if it happens, she’ll certainly make him pay. She’ll suggest that he go on a little hunting trip. And when he agrees (because they always do), she’ll send him off with her special insect repellent, and say goodbye. Because there’s one thing she’s certain of these days, it’s that this time she’s ready to make him pay.

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