The birds took off squawking as I came awake, screaming Prudence's name, my fingers clawing at the plywood, my sore muscles screaming. It was barely past dawn, and I got out of the sleeping bag and went into the woods to handle my business, took a quick whore's bath, then smoked a cigarette. I'd pushed myself, and my sore muscles were my punishment. I went through the katas slowly until I was limbered up, then ate my orange and drank my juice.

Knowing what I was going to do, I stripped all the insulation out of the walls, exposing the wiring, then started tearing up the carpet. I ended up using a face mask because of the dust, but I'd bought a couple of boxes of them because I planned on using a sand-blaster and then a paint gun on the siding. By the time the flooring was torn out to the frame my watch said it was two in the afternoon.

I needed more insulation and black plastic sheeting. Two layers. One would go under the double-wide to cover the ground, the other would go under the insulation, separating it from the air gap to reduce moisture gathering and prevent rodents. I'd forgotten to grab a staple gun and staples, so I added that to the list and looked around.

I'd completely gutted the trailer. Even pulling the cabinets and cupboards. The frames of the walls remained, the aluminum siding, but that was it. Everything else was in a pile out back of the trailer. A pile that was getting higher and higher.

I wondered if the local garbage company would deliver a dumpster.

I cleared the bed of the truck, locked the tool shed and the doors to the house, and headed into town. The radio was playing some new country hill-billy hip-hop and I shook my head in disgust. I hated the new music, but I was on the wrong side of forty now, which meant I could sneer at the "kid's these days music" and not be out of place.

The truck didn't have power steering and my sore shoulders protested a few times as I drove into town. It was a beautiful June day, almost July, and I relaxed as I drove the fifteen minute drive into town. I was trying to decide if I wanted to put new siding on the trailer or not when I turned the corner and the little town came into view.

I parked at the diner, getting out and groaning at the pain in my lower back.

Yer gettin' old, Texas.

For a second I thought about asking Pru to rub my back when we went to bed and it all came crashing back.

she can't rub your back because she's dead

I turned away from the diner, facing the driver's side window of the truck, and wiped my eyes, getting myself under control. I wiped my face off again and walked into the diner, limping despite my attempt at controlling it.

The Army had rebuilt that knee for me after Desert Storm, since about 2002 it had started acting up. A fancy doctor Pru had taken...

Pru...

"Mister, are you all right?" The girl behind the counter asked me, snapping me out of it.

"Huh?" I asked dumbly.

"You're crying. Is everything all right?" She asked.

I wiped my eyes with my arm. "Yeah. Fine. Double mushroom burger and fries to go, please."

The same thing I'd ordered every other time.

I sat on the stool, looking at the counter, till she brought my the bag of food.

"Thanks," I told her I paid, tipped her five, and went back out to the truck. It was only a few hundred feet, but I started the truck and drove down to the hardware store. I sat inside, smoking another cigarette and drinking a bottle of water.

By the time I was done I felt like I had control of myself. I got out and headed inside.

Eli was behind the counter and waved to me. I ambled over and he gave me a yellow toothed smile around the stem of his pipe.

"Whoo-whee, Texas, you're tearing up my inventory," he told me. "Whatcha here for now?"

"Insulation and plastic liner," I told him. "Need a few other things, but those are the main ones."

"You get that pump working?" He asked.

"Not yet," I told him.

"Hang on," he reached down and grabbed a microphone, winking at me and pressing the button. "Chuck. Hey, Chuck, getchur ass up to the counter."

"Give him a minute," Eli said. He lit his pipe, puffing out clouds of smoke.

"Whatcha want, ya pipe smokin' old bastard?" A younger, beefier guy said, walking out from between the aisles.

"You doin' anything to pay the rent today?" Eli asked.

The guy, Chuck, shrugged. "Nope."

"Tex here could use some help. He's out at Mary-Beth's old trailer home and that pump's probably shot in the ass," Eli said. He took a moment to blow smoke rings. "You ain't doin' nothing to pay the bills, and Tex here would probably like his pump working so he can quit smelling like a mountain lion."

The guy turned to me. "Chuck, of Slater Plumbing," he said, holding out his hand.

I shook his hand, staring him in the eye. "Sam English," I told him. "Nobody special."

Eli snorted but I ignored it.

"What kind of work you need?" He asked me.

I sighed. "Pump repair or replacement. Water pipes, sewer pipes," I started.

"Ain't got no sewer out here. You get your septic checked?" Chuck said.

I smacked my head. "Damn."

He chuckled. "I'll get the honey wagon, we'll pump it out. So basically a complete job," he squinted at me. "That'll run you about six grand total."

I nodded. "About what I figured."

"Mary-Beth's getting a lot out of you," Eli chuckled. "She know you're tearing it up?"

I looked at him. "I hadn't thought about it. She said it needed some repairs, so I'm repairing it."

Eli shook his head. "Kinsley!" he shouted. He waited a second. "Kinsley!"

"What?" Came the shout from further back.

"Get on up here, I gotta run to the bank!" Eli shouted.

"That crazy Texan come back and buy the place up again? We just got the truck unloaded!" The woman yelled.

I grinned. Chuck leaned over to me.

"I'll get the honey truck and my boys. See you at the trailer," he said.

"Thanks," I told him.

"Just get yer ass up here, Kinsley," Eli shouted. He looked at me, spreading his hands. "Grand-kids."

I nodded. The woman that came out from the aisles was a skinny thing with watery eyes.

"Keep an eye on the till, I gotta go to the bank," Eli said. "Tell Caleb and Asher to load up the man's order on the flat-bed so we can haul it out there."

"You must be the Texan," Kinsley said, narrowing her eyes.

"Don't be glaring at paying customers, girlie," Eli said as he walked toward the door.

He hadn't even looked at her.

Kinsley just rolled her eyes, but ran my VISA. It had twenty bucks left on it, leaving me with one more pre-paid card. I slid it behind the one that had about thirty dollars left. I'd been using them to buy lunch.

I just got in the truck and headed back, enjoying the drive. When I got back, I ate half the burger and the fries, putting the rest to the side.

I had no appetite any more. Things didn't really have any taste and eating was more mechanical than anything. Just fuel for the machine. As long as I ate, it didn't matter.

Pru was dead.

While I ate I looked up the garbage service in the phone book and called them. They agreed to not only start garbage service, but bring out two dumpsters. One would be emptied once a month unless I called in, the other would be picked up when I filled it. They told me there would be a big list of what could and could not be thrown in the the dumpsters.

I got back to work.

Previously, all the wall sockets had been on the same circuit. I ran the wiring in parallel, each room on its own breaker, running the wires to the breaker box and hooking up the breakers. I marked each one inside the breaker box door with a big black permanent marker.

Two twenty for the stove, the dryer, and the water heater. Separate lines each. Running the baseboard heaters by room to their own breakers. Lights per room, per breaker.

I'd bought one of the big boxes with nearly fifty breakers in it.

Each time I snapped the breaker in I caught myself flipping it on and off three times.

I wondered what the hell that was about.

About five a sewage truck pulled in and three guys got out. Chuck and his sons. I jumped out the front door, having already torn apart the porch with a chainsaw and hauled the wreckage out back, and walked up to meet him.

"You're a busy man, Mister English," Chuck said.

"Call me Sam," I told him.

He nodded at that. "Well, lets see if we can find your septic tank."

It took about fifteen minutes to find it. The metal cover rusted. He told me he'd bring a replacement if I wanted. The tank was half full, mostly solid.

"Well, I can have the boys help me dig it out, run water into it to slop it up, or you can give me a call in a year or two," he told me.

I shrugged. "What about the drainage field?"

He squinted at the grass. "Should be all right."

I sighed. "Dig it out," I said.

He looked at the sky. "Gonna be dark in a couple hours. We'll go ahead and start now. I'll have the boys get down in there."

I just nodded.

"How about you show me the plumbing, Sam," he said.

I led him to the door, climbing up then giving him a hand. He looked at the fact I'd torn the floor completely out and shook his head.

"I'll say it again, you're a busy man," he said.

"Needed to be done. It don't get done just staring at it and wishing," I told him.

He chuckled at that as he followed me to the kitchen, walking along the beams.

"All the plumbing will need replacing. I'm doing wiring and insulation right now. You'll have good access without the walls or the floors in the way," I told him. "I've got the sinks, toilets, bathtub/shower and shower as well as the water heater out there on the pallets."

He nodded. "I see that."

"Bought the pipe yesterday. Just needs it all installed."

He nodded. "All right, let's check your pump."

I led him out back and he took a look at the pump. "It's an older one, probably one of the old two gallons a minute pumps," He leaned back on his heels, squatted down. "I'll be honest, this is gonna be a major job, Mister English."

Back to Mister English, were we?

"All right. I'm Texan, wells are a big deal," I told him.

He nodded. "All right. I'm going to have to test water quality. Test how much till it runs dry, check the depth. It might need redrilled."

I sighed, nodding. "I expected as much. Can't leave a pump dry for fifteen years and expect it to fire up."

He nodded, looking relieved. "Was afraid you might kick up a fuss, Sam."

I shook my head, offering him a hand. I heaved him up. "No, I'm from ranch country. Seen men shot over water wells."

We walked back to the house, me lighting a cigarette.

"I'll start on the well tomorrow. The boys will excavate your septic tank, I'll inspect it. Once that's done, we'll start the plumbing," he told me.

"Works for me," I told him.

"You already bought the pipe?" He asked me.

"Steel for underneath, PVC for the walls and under the cabinets," I told him.

"You've done this before," he said, squinting at me.

Apparently that was the local style for being suspicious.

I nodded. "Did some construction when I was younger."

He nodded. "All right. I'll be back early in the morning with the boys. Say, about eight?"

"Fine with me," I told him.

Right after they left the truck showed up with Eli's boys in it. They unloaded the twelve rolls of insulation and the six rolls of plastic sheeting onto pallets, accepted their twenty-dollar tip, then left right as the sun went down.

I set up the drop lights and started working. Cutting the lumber after measuring it twice. Putting it together as I worked. I didn't go with a plywood porch, I did two by six with a quarter-inch gap between the planks for water drainage.

Once I put the stain on it, I went in and slept in the back of the truck.

I tried to hold Pru's guts in as she bled out in the sands of Iraq.