Chapter 22

Twenty-Two

The sun beats relentlessly down on the clearing, leaving noxious black water sludge behind. The heat makes the stench so much worse. We have to tie cloths around our noses to be able to work at all. I insisted that Lou rests, but she wanted to help. So, I gave her a bucket and now she eagerly follows me into the forest to fetch fresh soil.

She’s working like a maniac, maybe because she had the mishap, I don’t know. Every now and then, she gives me a look I can’t read. It could be sadness or pity, but it definitely doesn’t fit the situation and confuses me more than I care to admit.

After ten excursions into the forest, she is too weak to shovel earth into the bucket herself, so I fill it for her.

“You look like a bank robber,” she says as she watches me. “Like a bank robber digging a tunnel to a bank.”

“As long as I don’t look like a shovel murderer, fine with me,” I mutter through the fabric. “By the way, you don’t exactly look like the lovely girl next door, either.” She’s wearing long jeans and a black T-shirt, both of which should be washed, but we didn’t want to wear clean clothes for the dirty work. The dark cloth she has pulled over her mouth and nose gives her a slightly criminal look—so I can imagine what I must look like.

Lou grins feebly, wipes a few dead flies off her forehead with the back of her hand, and runs her fingers over her jeans. Together, we carry the buckets to the clearing and pour the dirt into the black-water channel in the gravel. Sweat runs down my back and my white shirt sticks to my skin. I feel like a steaming pile of manure and I think Lou must feel the same.

Eventually, the entire hole is filled with dirt—it looks a bit like a fresh grave. The sight makes me shiver and I look away.

“It still stinks,” Lou says dryly, picking up Grey, who’s been following her all day. “Well, little one…you’ve been glued to my heels all day,” she scolds affectionately.

“Maybe he thinks you don’t like him anymore, now that he’s turned into a skunk.”

“Nonsense!” Lou lifts him to her cheek and Grey happily licks it. When she wrinkles her nose almost imperceptibly and sets him down quickly, I grin. Grey bolts away, swerving like a rabbit, before sniffing at the heaped earth as if a dead animal was buried there.

Because of the overwhelming stench, I have no choice but to drive the camper forward several feet and only then do we empty the gray water tank and wash the laundry at the same time.

Then, Lou disappears into the shower while I carry the camp chairs to the new RV site and build a second bed for the campfire.

Later, as she descends the stairs, a cloud of citrus blossom body wash wafts over to me. Now comes the awkward part: I have to chain her up. Ever since she began wearing the bells, I’ve always showered at night, but today, I am too dirty to wait that long.

Without saying a word, I click two chains together and attach one end to the steel eyelet on the frame, which I also used the night of the storm.

“Come here, Lou.” I try to sound casual like I’m calling her to dinner.

She turns to me, obviously too busy with Grey to notice my movements.

She looks at me confused. “What about Grey?” is all she asks.

“I don’t think he’ll run off seeing how glued he is to you.”

A shadow crosses her pretty features, but she doesn’t reply and comes toward me, arm outstretched.

“Take off these bell bracelets, at least,” she demands as if trying to negotiate a deal with me.

“Too complicated.” I shake my head. “Besides, I won’t take long.”

She picks Grey up and hugs him, lips pressed together. For a moment, the true face of the situation reveals itself again. We are perpetrator and victim, nothing more. That is the ugly truth.

“Did you lather Grey with citrus blossom gel, too?” I try to soften the harshness of the situation when I smell lemons coming from Grey.

Lou nods, then smiles sheepishly. “Of course, what do you think? Do you want him to smell like you and your shower gel when he sleeps in my bed?”

Good counter. I get angry and jealous of Grey for a moment.

After the shower, I dab iodine on my wrist injuries. Some areas heal poorly because the skin has simply been chafed too often. The tissue festers at a gaping wound. Luckily, the redness around Lou’s wrists has subsided since she started wearing the wristbands.

I join her outside and undo the cuff without a comment. Lou acts indifferent, although that’s just an act. She’s a bit too preoccupied with Grey to look at me.

In the meantime, the weather has grown cooler and a sharp wind whistles through the treetops. The old scar under my leather bracelet throbs. Changing weather. Maybe we’re in for a storm, I’m not sure. This morning’s fog was also a good indicator.

After glancing at the blue-gray sky, I open a family-sized can of chili con carne and pour the minced meat and beans into a tin pot. It’s attached to the tripod I cobbled together yesterday in case I ever run out of propane.

Using a chain borrowed from Lou’s shackles, I pull the pot up and hook it. All that’s missing is the fire.

Instinctively, I reach into my pocket, but my lighter isn’t there. Of course not. It was in the cargo pants I was wearing when I jumped into the lake after the black water incident.

I turn to Lou. She’s hanging our laundry, hidden by the tree around which one end of the line is tied. I only see part of her arm, but she’s holding something black. “Hey, Lou! Are those my pants?” I walk around the tripod. “Toss me the lighter! Let’s see if that thing survived the bath.”

She doesn’t react, just like she didn’t earlier at the lake.

What’s going through her head in those moments? Home? Me? Escape?

“Hey, Lou! Are you daydreaming?”

Her bells jingle in quick succession.

What is she doing?

I take a few long strides toward the group of trees in which she hangs the clothes.

Before I reach her, her hand holding my pants snaps in my direction and covers her face in the process.

“I… I couldn’t find it.” Her voice is shrill. “You…you must have lost it in the lake. Or while washing.”

So she heard me after all. Her fingers tremble!

Why is she afraid? Distrust rushes through my veins like a shot of adrenaline.

“Hm!” The dull sound suppresses the hundreds of images racing through my mind. Lou setting fire to the RV. Lou setting the forest ablaze to escape. Without taking my eyes off her, I grab my pants and search every pocket. Maybe she took it and thought about her options for a moment before putting it back.

Lou swallows and fiddles with the hem of her blouse.

I rummage through the last pocket. My fingers find a handkerchief and a cable tie—no sign of my lighter.

“Too bad!” I toss my pants over the line like they’re a venomous snake.

“Did you only have the one?” Lou asks squeakily.

“Of course not!” I glare at her. “But it was the only gas lighter.” Is it in the lake or did she pocket it? A dark anger squeezes my throat at the thought. Why is she tugging her shirt down over her shorts? What is she trying to hide?

Why are you shaking, Lou? Should I search you and break my promise?

I examine her again from head to toe. Exhaustingly long. “Are you cold?”

“I don’t feel so good.” She sounds pathetic. She’s not a good liar. The old anger rolls through me in waves. It seems to me she is about to pull the deciding card from our house of cards.

“You might be sick, you’re shaking all over, Lou!” My voice is icy. I pull myself together as I step toward her so I don’t yell the next few words. “I’m going to ask you once and I expect an honest answer.”

She looks up at me. Startled deer-in-the-headlight look.

“Did you take the lighter, yes or no?”

“No!” she squeaks and a frantic blush appears on her cheeks. I stare at the one shaped like Africa.

“Okay.” My dangerously low voice sends an icy shiver down even my spine. The house of cards collapses. Card after card of painstakingly stacked trust. Black dots dance in the corners of my eyes.

“May I go in?” I hear Lou ask through the fog of my anger.

She sounds as frightened as she was at the beginning of our journey. I want to scream.

“I told you that you don’t have to ask my permission for everything!” I bark at her. “This sucks. Like I’m a monster that forbids everything!”

I don’t know how much longer I can go without breaking something. It feels like nothing is real anymore. Neither Lou nor me. Her whole demeanor was a lie, an illusion she created to deceive me. At least now I know the answer to my questions.

I clench my hands in exasperation and watch her creep toward the RV with her shoulders slouched, the product of a guilty conscience. Before she disappears inside, she turns to me again.

You took it. You lied to me, I tell her with a look that leaves no doubt.

Why didn’t I search her? Fuck the promise! This would have been an exceptional case. And exceptional cases need exceptional rules.

That’s what he said, Brendan. He—before he left Blacky in the ground!

The feeling of falling twitches through my body. My field of vision grows hazy like dark frosted glass.

Stay here, Brendan. Breathe. Find your focus. Lou did not run away. And you’ll make sure she doesn’t. The lighter can’t do her any good!

What was I about to do?

Oh, yes, light the campfire!

I storm into the RV. Lou is curled up on the bed, the down comforter pulled up to the tip of her nose. She watches my every move intently, as if I might suddenly turn into the lunatic she fears. Maybe I do, too. Maybe it would be better to chain us both up.

Grey whines behind me, but I ignore him. Full of anger, I unlock the cabinet above the side door and fish out a packet of matches.

My eyes fall on the small brown bottle with the emergency drops. A special cocktail I mixed together in Los Angeles, especially for Lou as a precaution if I ever needed to sedate her quickly in the wild. A dose for cases like this. I quickly put the bottle in my pocket and then glare at Lou again. I’ll give you the drops if necessary. That’s a promise, too! I slam the door shut and storm outside.

At the firepit, I force myself to just get on with what I started earlier. Shaking, I light the fire, charring my thumbnail when the wind blows the flame toward me. I curse under my breath. Tinder flies away in the gusts, but somehow I get the fire going. After that, I stir the chili as if on autopilot and can no longer think straight.

Did she take the lighter or not? Her reaction can only mean yes. What is she going to do with it?

Should I give her the drops to search her? Or should I incapacitate her to consider how to proceed? I toss the spoon into the pot and clench my hands. I stare into the chili for minutes until it starts bubbling. Wind ruffles my hair.

I don’t like what I am thinking. At least, not the new Brendan. I’ll have to chain Lou up again during the day until I find out the truth, maybe even longer. This is the only way. I can’t trust her anymore. She lied to me, I am almost certain of it. She didn’t respond to my question about the lighter, she trembled, her voice was full of fear, and she pulled down of her blouse. Also: I had the lighter in my top pocket, which is quite deep. I didn’t lose the zip tie either. No, Lou took it.

I breathe in. The feeling of falling has dissipated, but my mind keeps spinning like it’s on hold.

Maybe Lou will give back the lighter. She knows that I know. She may abandon her plan, whatever it may be.

Suddenly, I hear footfalls on the steps.

“I’ll make the milk for Grey,” Lou calls over to me. Go ahead, I think with a snort and consider chaining her up right away. I glance over my shoulder. She’s changed into a green-gray sweater and long jeans, and bends down for her hiking boots.

If I chain her up now, I will be angry and it will seem to her like an act of revenge. I have to wait until I’m calmer to explain it to her. Naturally, I don’t want to punish her, it’s just the logical consequence of her lie.

Who are you trying to fool, Bren? She hurt you. You almost believed she had feelings for you. And now—bam—everything is the same as before. You are starting over from scratch. Of course you want to punish her!

Lou disappears into the RV again and I hear her puttering around in the kitchen. Familiar sounds accompany the blustery wind and crackling fire. Eventually, she calls for Grey and that’s when I realize he’s been romping around right next to me. Like an arrow, he heads toward the RV and almost rolls over when he jumps up the steps. Lou picks him up, hugs him, and whispers to him. I turn abruptly and numbly poke around in the logs with a branch. Red sparks fly into the air, but the wind extinguishes them within seconds. I’m contemplating how to proceed when a piercing beeping rips through the air.

It is coming from the RV and is so shrill that it pierces my bones. That’s not the fire alarm. I automatically throw the stick into the embers. In my mind, I see the RV exploding into a thousand pieces. Suddenly, I forget everything that came before.

I have to get Lou to safety.

I run to the door in a fury, yelling wild things I barely understand myself and trip over Grey in the process. He rushes toward the forest as if a bull moose is chasing him.

“Out. You have to get out now!” I yell as Lou appears at the side door. “Anything on inside?” I rush up the steps, grabbing her arm in my panic, and shoving her down hard.

Her eyes shine feverishly. “The stove,” she whispers, frozen.

“Okay.” I nod briefly and point to the tree line bordering the lake. “Go over there! All the way to the right. I want to be able to see you from the other side!” I give her a good shove to make her run, then rush around the RV and unhook the key from my belt. Maybe Lou will get sick after all. Maybe she was shaking because she has a fever. The lake was cold.

“Where’s Grey?” I hear her asking over the deafening noise. “Grey?”

She was probably afraid of me and merely wanted to clean up as soon as possible. My fingers are sweaty and clumsy and it takes forever to unlock the hatch. Then the flap slips out of my hands and I pinch my finger. Angry, I punch the wall and curse out loud. On the second try, I am calmer and manage to hook the flap to the provided clip. Access to the gas tap. I glance around for Lou and spot her at the spruce tree line. She’s still looking for Grey.

Okay, Brendan, everything is under control. Now close that fucking tap or Lou canscrape you and what’s left of the RV off the forest floor.

I turn the bronze knob, but it won’t move. Sweat pools in my palm, making it slippery.

“Shit!” I yell into the endless beeping. It’s like a knife on my nerves. I frantically wipe my hand on my pants and try again. This time the knob turns, although it is noticeably stiff.

Eventually, I make it. A sigh of relief escapes my lips, but in the next moment, I remember the stove. Without closing the hatch, I jump up and rush around the RV.

The kettle sits atop the high flame, which shrivels like a stunted blue flower, apparently fueled by the last bits of propane. With trembling fingers, I flip the switch, take the kettle off the stove, and toss it in the sink. Hastily, I study the four old burners. Does the stove have a leak that set off the alarm? There has to be one somewhere or else it wouldn’t have gone off. At that moment, I notice it is still beeping. I squat down and flip the switch.

It’s quiet for the moment, but it’s a strange silence. Almost spooky. Like in a grave.

A strange feeling spreads through me. I don’t pay any attention to it, instead, I rip open all the windows to ventilate the interior.

I can take care of the leak later. It’s a good thing I screwed the tripod together yesterday so Lou and I can cook over an open fire instead.

Lou!

The strange feeling inside me condenses into a hard lump. I jump down the steps and my gaze darts to the edge of the forest.

Lou is not there. Instead, I spot Grey chewing on something.

It is so silent. So quiet.

A part of me is suddenly terrified, like a child left alone in a foreign country. Waves of adrenaline rush through me as my brain puts two and two together.

The lighter that runs on gas… She could have set off the alarm with that.

No, she didn’t, she’s not that clever. No way!

The innocent questions about the propane tank and its location when she told me the story about Delsin…

“What would you have done then?”

“I would have turned off the gas bottle while you ran for safety.”

But no! She couldn’t have planned this!

Yet I don’t see her. I move stiffly around the RV without hearing anything. She’s gone, swallowed up by the earth.

Nausea fills my stomach. She is gone! Lou is gone!

An invisible noose wraps around my throat and tightens.

“Louisa?” I manage to croak out. “Lou?”

The graveled lot, the spruce trees, and the sky begin to flicker and a part of me emerges. At least that’s how it feels. I see black flashes for several seconds before falling into an abyss with a scream that bursts out of me.

“LOUISA! COME BACK!”