CHAPTER 7
The hills behind the corn fields are crispier than the crops, but the crackling yellow weeds deepen to a thicker, darker grass as they approach the tree line, likely because of the shade provided by the tall pines. Alabama summers are brutal—hell, Alabama winters are brutal too. The sun never seems to ease, turning the phrase “red neck” into more of a promise than a slur.
The spot we’ve chosen is in the deep shade inside the tree line, surrounded as well as it can be by vegetation. No one can sneak up on us from behind with our backs against the thatch of pines, and this will give us the best view of the field on our other side. Not as grassy here, but the caterpillar grass in Alabama isn’t soft like that up north, anyway; the rotting leaves will provide a much softer cushion…
