





































ERIC DUENEZ 
THE EMERALD ASH BORER (an excerpt) 

Clay Pigeon watched the news with the rest of the troops. 
It was streamed in via satellite. The news acted as the post-game 
~ho~, br.inging in the box scores, the daily highlights, and playoff 
1mphcat10ns of the war with Russia. Everyone watched hoping to 
catch a glimpse of themselves in some heroic battle, like a wide re­
ceiver in a foot ball game, diving for a one-handed catch in the end 
zone, but it was hard to stand out in a game that had over a million 
players on each team. They watched a missile close in on a com­
pound that supposedly housed enemy intelligence. Clay wondered 
how long it would be before bullets came with cameras and live 
video feeds. 

After the news was over, Clay and a few others watched a 
nature program on invasive species. The narrator rattled on about 
the dangers of certain species of blue-green algae, zebra mussels, 
and the emerald ash borer. Clay was on the edge of his seat, as 
most of the troops went off to bed or cleaned their guns. The narra­
tor told Clay how, as an invasive species, the emerald ash borer has 
killed over fifty million ash trees in the United States. The larvae 
fe~d .on the trees ' cambium and phloem, girdling the tree, killing it 
w1thm two years. Death by halo. The borer's natural enemy is a 
parasitic wasp that lays eggs within the larvae, that when hatched 
consume the larvae. These wasps are so microscopic they may 
even appear invisible to God. 

When Clay was still in high school, he was getting the 
mail and noticed the shell of a cicada on the maple tree in front of 
the house. As a child he had enjoyed collecting the empty Cicada 
shells, bombed out tanks of some forgotten front in an imagined 
war. They were mythical shells, belonging to some miniature death 
machine that had crawled from beneath the earth. They were some­
thing that stimulated his imagination. He had caught one once and 
had kept it in small cage made out of wire screen and wood until 
one day it died, a prisoner of war that gave up no secrets. But that 
day on his way to the mail box, there was not just one cicada shell, 
there were many cicada shells, left empty and hollow, holding on to 

32 

the bark of the maple tree, one even pi 
around the tree, frantically counting th 
down imagination. Twenty-three. He 
many wou ld be gathered around this 1 

find only one or two on a tree, one on 
maybe one on the sidewalk. But here 
some celestial body to come close eno 
had escaped. Surely, it meant somethi 
around it. Weeks later, the deluge broi 
Ike didn't even wash away these dispc 
monuments to whatever it was that thi: 

After graduating, he had enlis 
friends and family, into the armed fore 
cried, shedding tears down the left sid 
dreamed that he was throwing away, a 
of her face for fear of him dying. Of c 
doing his patriotic duty, being a true A 
didn 't know what else to do. 

Then the war broke out betwe 
wasn't as cold as it had been before. I 
getting a little hot in fact, enough to m 
that uncomfortable way. Clay was ser 
chagrin. He wanted to be on the Alas! 
fortunately for him the Georgian front 

Clay's platoon was a small se: 
sions away from the front. They spen­
backwater village to small backwater · 
Although it was harder finding an inst 
color of skin as an indicator, all of the 
was good to be out of Iraq. 

One time Clay asked Pvt. Lee 
"Well shit, now I've had the o 

ferent countries, covering three diffen 
don 't send us to the Alaskan front so I 

"I took care of that before I er 
"Doesn' t count. My two pair · 

off the tree line, just waiting to pop a i 
insurgent. 

"What two pair, you got again 
"I told you before: jack of sp: 

and the five of diamonds." 



BORER (an excerpt) 

ews with the rest of the troops. 
e news acted as the post-game 
1e daily highlights, and playoff 
t. Everyone watched hoping to 
1me heroic battle, like a wide re­
)r a one-handed catch in the end 
i a game that had over a million 
~d a missile close in on a com­
ny intelligence. Clay wondered 
; came with cameras and live 

'. lay and a few others watched a 
:. The narrator rattled on about 
ue-green algae, zebra mussels, 
is on the edge of his seat, as 
)r cleaned their guns. The narra­
>ecies, the emerald ash borer has 
t the United States. The larvae 
oem, girdling the tree, killing it 
rhe borer's natural enemy is a 
1 the larvae, that when hatched 
lfe so microscopic they may 

h school, he was getting the 
da on the maple tree in front of 
ed collecting the empty Cicada 
orgotten front in an imagined 
~longing to some miniature death 
1eath the earth. They were some­
m. He had caught one once and 
of wire screen and wood until 
iat gave up no secrets. But that 
re was not just one cicada shell, 
empty and hollow, holding on to 

2 

the bark of the maple tree, one even piggybacked another. Clay hurried 
around the tree, frantically counting the ghosts that fueled his now dulled­
down imagination. Twenty-three. He was amazed. It seemed odd that so 
many wou ld be gathered ar_ound this tree, while at his old house he might 
find only one or two on a tree, one on the yellow brick of the house, and 
maybe one on the sidewalk. But here they gathered like cultists, waiting for 
some celestial body to come close enough to offer escape, or maybe they 
had escaped. Surely, it meant something. Clay just couldn't put his mind 
around it. Weeks later, the deluge brought on by the remnants of Hurricane 
Ike didn't even wash away these disposable shells. They were to be lasting 
monuments to whatever it was that they symbolized. 

After graduating, he had enlisted, with mixed reactions from his 
friends and family, into the armed forces of his beloved country. His mother 
cried, shedding tears down the left side of her face for the future she had 
dreamed that he was throwing away, and shedding tears down the right side 
of her face for fear of him dying. Of course there was the praise offered for 
doing his patriotic duty, being a true American hero. The truth is: he just 
didn't know what else to do. 

Then the war broke out between Russia and the United States. It 
wasn't as cold as it had been before. For quite a few young men, it was 
getting a little hot in fact, enough to make the back of their necks sweaty in 
that uncomfortable way. Clay was sent to the Georgian front, much to his 
chagrin. He wanted to be on the Alaskan front, defending his homeland, but 
fortunately for him the Georgian front wasn't suffering as severe of losses. 

Clay's platoon was a small search-and-destroy unit running mis­
sions away from the front. They spent a lot of time marching from small 
backwater village to small backwater village, looking for insurgents to shoot. 
Although it was harder finding an insurgent when you couldn't rely on the 
color of skin as an indicator, all of the more experienced soldiers agreed it 
was good to be out oflraq. 

One time Clay asked Pvt. Lee why it was so good to be out oflraq. 
"Well shit, now I've had the opportunity to kill someone in five dif­

ferent countries, covering three different continents. I'll be damned if they 
don't send us to the Alaskan front so I can kill someone in North America." 

"I took care of that before I enlisted," smirked Slim. 
"Doesn't count. My two pair's still good," Lee never took his eyes 

off the tree line, just waiting to pop a shot into any one looking the tiniest bit 
insurgent. 

"What two pair, you got again?" Clay asked. 
"I told you before: jack of spades, jack of diamonds, five of clubs, 

and the five of diamonds." 

33 



Clay had to pull out the sheet Sgt. Baker had given him and look 
those up again. He always had a hell of time keeping all of the awards 
straight. The jack of spades represented the Decapitator award, which was 
given for shooting someone and detaching at least one third of their head 
from their body, by weight or surface area. The jack of diamonds repre­
sented the Early Bird award, given for killing three people before ten in the 
morning. The five of clubs represented the Globetrotter Silver award, given 
for killing someone in five different countries. The five of diamonds repre­
sented the I'm a Big Kid Now award, given for racking up five kills without 
dying. Clay was the only one in his platoon that didn't have the five of 
diamonds. 

"Boat up bitch, then talk shit. I'm straightening out,'' Slim 
said and threw down his cigarette. 

say." 
"You ain't ever gonna be straight, no matter what da cards 

"Tell that to yo' mama." 
"Incoming!" 
The whistling of the incoming mortar reminded Clay of his 

mother making tea on the stove. The explosion sent everyone flying. 
Clay was nearest the impact and stood up dazed; dirt rained down 
from the sky. It was just like some World War II movie he watched 
on cable while waiting for the soft core porn to come on. He couldn't 
hear anything. Someone was in front of him, saying something; their 
lips reminded Clay of the fish in the aquarium of the doctor's office 
back home. Clay shrugged. They pulled him down to the ground. 
The lips were still moving. Clay shook his head and said I can't hear 
you. They nodded and started laughing. 

"Three of spades, Clay, three of spades." The three of spades 
represented the Can You Hear Me Now? Award, given for permanent 
or temporary loss of hearing. 

Clay understood the Achievement system the first time it 
was explained. It mimicked all the first person shooter games he 
had played as a child and teen. He had practically raised himself on 
videogames. If you accomplished certain feats you were awarded 
certain titles. In the army, these awards were assigned certain values, 
represented by playing cards. The cards were used to play poker. At 
the end of each day the sergeant would award a prize for the highest 
poker hand of the day (sometimes this was just a pack of smokes for 
the high card; it wasn't every day someone racked up two pair or a 

34 

straight). However, the cards were kep 
knees had a Jack high flush. Dirty Do~ 
a bigger prize was awarded after an esr 
Dog Rog', picked up all three eights or 
with some destitute Russian girl, prosti 
himself, he w as sure she was only sixt 
scratching his back all to hell. 

After Clay gained his balanc 
quickly followed the others into the 
would have to hurry to get any kills 
seemed they would be able to shoot 
even decide if the villager was hosti 
whistled past his head as he ran intc 
stepped out of a doorway and aimec 
time to aim his gun before the villa! 
took a bite out of Clay's left arm. f 
the trigger. The bullet hit the man s 
smiled and then dropped to his kne~ 

"You Ok, buddy?" Sgt. Bak< 
"I think so." 
"Good. King of hearts, quet 

second." Sgt. Baker walked over to 
of hearts represented the One Good 
given for shooting someone who jw 
represented the Purple Hearted Parn 
in battle. "I'll accept it. Jack of sp< 

It was also his fifth kill, five 
home that it was a big day for him. 
write with a smile. Of course his m 
but she hadn't known that in one mi 
went from one card to five, and had 
flush. She wouldn't know they wer 

(an ex 

INDIANA UNIVERSITY SOUTH BE 
1st Place - Fiction: The Emerald Ash E 

3 



Sgt. Baker had given him and look 
)f time keeping all of the awards 
!d the Decapitator award, which was 
bing at least one third of their head 
irea. The jack of diamonds repre­
killing three people before ten in the 

d the Globetrotter Silver award, given 
mntries. The five of diamonds repre­
given for racking up five kills without 
atoon that didn't have the five of 

it. I'm straightening out," Slim 

raight, no matter what da cards 

.ng mortar reminded Clay of his 
he explosion sent everyone flying. 
)Od up dazed; dirt rained down 
World War II movie he watched 
core porn to come on. He couldn't 
mt of him, saying something; their 
e aquarium of the doctor's office 
pulled him down to the ground. 
1ook his head and said I can't hear 
;hing. 
!e of spades." The three of spades 
~ow? Award, given for permanent 

rement system the first time it 
: first person shooter games he 
had practically raised himself on 
certain feats you were awarded 
rards were assigned certain values, 
cards were used to play poker. At 
)uld award a prize for the highest 
this was just a pack of smokes for 
.omeone racked up two pair or a 

14 

straight). However, the cards were kept and the game went on. Johnny Two­
knees had a Jack high flush. Dirty Dog Rog' had three eights. Sometimes 
a bigger prize was awarded after an especially dangerous mission. Dirty 
Dog Rog', picked up all thr~e eights on a covert mission and won a night 
with some destitute Russian girl, prostituting herself. Dirty Dog was beside 
himself, he w as sure she was only sixteen and she had been ferocious in bed, 
scratching his back all to hell. 

After Clay gained his balance and some of his hearing, he 
quickly followed the others into the small village up the road. He 
would have to hurry to get any kills. The other guys were so quick. It 
seemed they would be able to shoot the insurgents, before Clay could 
even decide if the villager was hostile or not. The bullets hissed and 
whistled past his head as he ran into the village. A man with a pistol 
stepped out of a doorway and aimed at Clay. Clay had just enough 
time to aim his gun before the villager pulled the trigger. The bullet 
took a bite out of Clay's left arm. He steadied his right arm ahd pulled 
the trigger. The bullet hit the man smack dab in his left eye. Clay 
smiled and then dropped to his knees. 

"You Ok, buddy?" Sgt. Baker asked. 
"I think so." 
"Good. King of hearts, queen of hearts. And wait here just a 

second." Sgt. Baker walked over to the man Clay had killed. The king 
of hearts represented the One Good Tum Deserves Another Award, 
given for shooting someone who just shot you. The queen of hearts 
represented the Purple Hearted Pansy Award, given for being wounded 
in battle. "I'll accept it. Jack of spades." 

It was also his fifth kill, five of diamonds. Clay would write 
home that it was a big day for him. He'd almost been killed, he would 
write with a smile. Of course his mother would break down in tears, 
but she hadn't known that in one minute, one pull of the trigger her son 
went from one card to five, and had three to a straight, and three to a 
flush. She wouldn't know they were playing a game. 

(an excerpt) 

INDIANA UNIVERSITY SOUTH BEND CREATIVE WRITING AWARD 
1st Place - Fiction: The Emerald Ash Borer - by Eric Duenez 

35 


