Narrow Window to Kill
Beads of sweat ran down Toby’s body; it quickly became hot in the full body suit. The hood was pulled over his gray, thinning hair, and the face mask and respirator sealed him off from the pleasant spring weather. His breath hissed as it pulled in through the filter. It had rained the day before, and mud pulled at his green rubber boots as Toby stepped through the fields. Turning slowly from left to right, he surveyed the destruction that had been wrought. Hopefully he had acted soon enough to stop halt some of the devastation. Crouching at his knees, Toby reached out with a rubber gloved hand, inspecting the handiwork of his archenemy.
“Damn tip midges” he muttered, voice pulled apart by the respirator as clouds tumbled slowly through the blue sky above. He lifted the drooping edge of an elegantissima arbor vitae, examining the telltale brown spots where the midge larvae fed. He shook his head grimly, hoping the pesticide would do its work. The damage could stunt the growth of the arbs, and if it was severe enough, even kill them. There was a narrow window of time to spray when the midges first hatched and they were most vulnerable. If they spread to some of the other fields and were left unchecked, there could be an unholy price to pay. It was a war, and Toby had to be ever vigilant. The thousands and thousands of tiny screams of the midges as the pesticides did their work were muffled by his suit. Toby grinned. He stood up and walked back to his mighty steed, an orange Kubota tractor. The tank and sprayer were mounted on the back, empty now of a cargo of imminent death. Toby mounted the Kubota, throwing his leg over the seat and plopping down heavily. He slipped the tractor into gear, and made his way down the roadway between the blocks of arbs, the earth packed into bare, hard twin furrows by years of passage.
As Toby pulled farther away from the fields, the tiny screams faded away altogether, and he grinned again. He reined the Kubota on the concrete wash pad by the barn and dismounted. Toby started the pressure washer and hosed down the tractor, cleaning away any errant remains of carnage. Peeling off the chemical suit carefully, he bundled it up for disposal, then washed off his rubber boots. Toby slipped on his regular leather boots that he had left on the pad. He left the tractor on the wash pad to dry. Gear tucked under his arm, Toby headed towards the barn. His wife Jackie met him inside as he hung up his battle gear.
“You get those little bastards?” she asked, leaning against the frame of the open door.
“Looks like I caught ‘em just in time” he answered. “I don’t think we’ll lose too many arbs this year.”
“Good. Not like the spring of ninety-two, huh?” she said with a teasing smile.
“Nah, not like ninety two. Please, never like that again.” Toby shook his head. It was far enough in the past they could joke about that catastrophe now.
“I’ve got coffee on, if you want any.”
“Lemme get rid of the suit first, then I’ll come on in.”
Jackie turned and walked back to the farmhouse. By the time Toby made his way into the kitchen, she had poured him a cup and set out a plate of her homemade zucchini bread with butter on the side. Toby sat down with his wife as they stared out the bay window, over the acres of arbs and shade trees that filled up their land. Sipping his hot, sweet coffee, Toby could close his eyes and recall thousands of tiny screams.