Down the Rabbit Hole

Devonshire Continued

Martin coasted up onto the embankment where the road was the widest. He stuffed the smoking remains of his Newport in the half empty Red Bull can perched precariously in his cup holder and heaved himself up and out the door. He collected his rods and tackle and slogged off down toward the chain link fence that ran along the water's edge. The laces of his worn-out work boots trailed along behind him as he walked along it, looking for the place where it had been cut away. Finding it, Martin tugged the metal as far apart as he could and forced his large body through the unforgiving hole. He leaned back to retrieve his gear, careful not to damage the tips of his rods as he pulled them through.