But there was something odd. Something missing. Where are the flies? thought Johnson. On most farms the low buzz of the black swarms was constant. But here there was none. Except for the moaning of the wind, it was quiet.
Perhaps it was the lack of animals, he thought. Or maybe it was the stiff breeze at the top of the hill that kept them at bay.
Glancing at his watch, he frowned. It was after 5 o'clock. If he did not get back on the road soon, he would be late for his appointment. Either that or skip his shower. After driving all day, Johnson did not want to skip the soothing ritual.
Taking one last look around, he reached for the handle of the car door. Just then the old woman reappeared and behind her an even more wizened up old man wearing faded blue overalls and a nicotine-stained undershirt.
Stopping at the corner of the house, the old man spat out a long jet of chewing tobacco on the ground. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he paused momentarily to study Johnson.
Speaking to the old woman, he said in a low tone, "Thought I heard a car come up."
"Wants to see yer spiders," she said before she turned away and went back into the farmhouse, letting the screen door slam behind her.
"You wanna see my spiders, young fella?"
"Sure if you're open. How much?"
Looking over the Lexus, he scratched his ruddy face and said, "Fifty bucks."
"Fifty! That's ridiculous!"
Shrugging his shoulders, the old man said, "Take it or leave it. I got work to do."
Then he spat out another long jet of chewing tobacco and turned to go.
