by Riley Flynn
“This is actually really good, Joan,” Alex told her, turning in his chair. “Thanks.”
Still chewing, she waved away the comment.
“Forget about it, please. It’s just a pleasure to eat something that’s almost close to properly cooked. This is the best meal I’ve had in weeks.”
Hard to argue, thought Alex. Whatever herbs she’d found in the cupboard seemed to do the trick. The guy who hunted in this place must have eaten well.
“You ever stop and think about that?” asked Timmy. “The best meal? Best meal you ever ate.”
“I can’t remember,” said Alex. “I only remember the bad ones.”
“You don’t remember your favorite meal?” asked Joan.
“Not really. But I remember the places that gave me food poisoning.”
“What about you then, Timmy? You seem to have one in mind.”
“Yeah, I got a favorite meal. A best meal. Best thing I ever ate.”
“Go on…”
“A peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
Alex and Joan sat in silence. Finn licking the tray clean was the only sound.
“A sandwich?” Alex asked. “Just a normal sandwich?”
“Honestly, Timmy,” Joan said. “Sometimes I wonder how you’re still alive.”
“No, no, you gotta hear me out. It’s more than just a sandwich.”
“This better be good,” said Alex, laying down his fork.
“Yeah, it’s good. Happened down near your neck of the woods, actually. You know Stony Man?”
“The cliffs? Yeah. Quite a bit north from where I’m from though. I’m from just west of Roanoke.”
“Yeah, whatever, but somewhere in Virginia, right? Well, my dad decided that we was going out hiking one day. One of his madcap plans.”
“Do these plans run in the family?” said Joan.
Flashing her a brief smirk, Timmy went on with his story, running a finger along the corners of the tray and sucking up every last drop of curry as he went.
“So he’s got this plan that we’re climbing up Stony Man. Mom makes us the lunch, packs it up, hands it over, and then announces that she’s not coming. My sister, too. So it’s just me and my dad. He don’t want to argue with them, he’s not the type. Just sets off with me behind him. Anyway, so we’re hiking for hours. It’s high up, this place, I mean real high up. You wouldn’t believe. So we’re walking for hours and hours and then, all of a sudden, we’re there. I wasn’t even paying attention, just looked up and we were on top of this huge cliff. Man, the fall from that high up? That’d seriously scramble you. Anyway, so I just sat there, legs dangling off the edge, feet swinging, with my old man, and we ate sandwiches and looked down over all of creation. It was awesome.”
His finger found another drop of food; he licked it clean.
“Well, Timmy,” Alex said, “that was actually a nice story. It’s true?”
“Yeah man, we hiked all the way up there. Amazing.”
“That’s a good answer. Isn’t it, Joan?”
Both men turned. Joan sat still, staring at her empty plate.
“Well…. It’s a nice story.”
“It is a nice story,” said Timmy, “but…?”
“But that’s not really your favorite meal, was it? That’s just a location. The meal wasn’t important.”
“It absolutely was important. Sandwiches. I told you. Best meal I’ve ever had.”
“I know, but, well. They’re just sandwiches. You’ve never had a better steak?”
“No. Were you listening? Alex, tell her. Tell her why she’s crazy.”
Alex sat back. He knew how to wind up his friend. Joan did too, apparently.
“I don’t know, Timmy,” he said. “She’s got a point.”
“Hear that, Timmy? I’ve got a point. First dinner and now this. You’re having a bad night.”
“All right, then. Fine. You tell me what your best meal was. What was it?”
Adjusting herself in her seat, clearing up the plates and cutlery, Joan turned quiet.
“I don’t have a favorite.”
“No, come on. Quid pro quo. What’s good for the goose. You gotta have something, else you wouldn’t have mentioned it.”
Standing up, Joan moved the dishes to the small sink.
“I told you, I don’t have a best. I’ve got a worst, but I’m not sure that’s a story you want to hear.”
“I’m all ears,” said Timmy. “Pray tell.”
Joan sat back down, looking at Alex. The candlelight caught on her glasses, reflecting the table back into the room.
“If you want to tell it, tell it.”
“It’s not much,” Joan admitted, more to herself than anyone else, “but I guess you should hear it.”
“All right.” Timmy was almost rubbing his hands. “Worst meal ever. What was it? Bet it was fish. Everyone gets fish wrong.”
“It was at a restaurant. A place in Rockton. I say restaurant, that town only had a diner. But that was where we were. Me and a friend. We’d ordered our food. I was drinking a Coke with ice. I remember the ice. It was too cold. I had to take a few of the cubes out, laid them on the table. Anyway, that was the day I was telling my friend that I was pregnant. I think she already knew, but she’d come in from out of town especially. So we’re sitting there, I’m telling her, then something catches my eye through the window. It’s my husband. But he’s not alone.”
The scope of the story was beginning to settle across the room. The mood was setting down low, leaning all three heads in together.
“He’s not alone. There’s Haley Vickery with him. God, he was an idiot. We saw both of them, right there and then. And then it all dawned on me. The calls, the texts, the evenings he was away. It all fell into place like a puzzle. I sat there and I finished my food. I didn’t say another word to him until I said yes to the divorce. That must have been about three months ago now.”
“Joan, I’m so sorry,” said Alex. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty bad,” offered Timmy. “But… well, it’s the same, isn’t it?”
“What?” asked Joan.
“Same problem as mine. Just the setting. Food could have been good.”
“Well, Timmy, if you let me finish. I’d ordered the steak. It came well done. I didn’t have the patience to send it back. Tough as an old boot. Disgusting.”
A moment. The two men looked at each other. They looked at Joan. She started laughing. Then they were all laughing. It swept them up like a tsunami, carrying them far from the dinner table. They laughed and couldn’t stop. Delirious, drunk on the moment, they came back to the cabin, lungs hurting from the laughter.
“Break up and a bad steak, sounds like hell.” Timmy’s voice was creaking from all the laughing.
“Yeah,” said Joan, wiping a tear from her eye. Sadness or joy, Alex wondered. “But it’s given me a bit of purpose. I’m going to outlive the cheating scumbag if it’s the last thing I do. We’re going to outlive him.”
Alex looked around him. He was tired, yes. Stupidly tired. Could barely keep his eyes open tired. But here he was, stuck in the strangest situation. For some reason, for a reason he couldn’t quite work out, he had a need to protect these people. To shelter them from the storms all around. To carry them with him. Perhaps it was for his own protection, to guard against the uncertainty of the new world.
Having grown up an only child, this kind of brotherhood seemed alien. Enigmatic. Essential. Everything that mattered right now was inside this cabin. From outside, Alex heard the strange noise again, the shifting leaves. While the others argued and laughed, he watched through the window.
Something moved.
Chapter 6
Finn scratched at the door.
Alex blinked. He rubbed his eyes. Tiredness can play tricks on the mind, he reassured himself. But something outside had moved. The dog had noticed, too.
“What do you think he wants?” Timmy had stopped laughing. “He wants to
go out?”
The hairs along Alex’s arms stood at attention. He smoothed his hand across the skin, laying them flat.
“There’s something outside. I saw something move.”
“Probably those squirrels again. Maybe he just wants some fresh air.”
Knees creaking, Alex stood up. No one seemed convinced by his words. He knew he wasn’t. Rapping his knuckles against the window, nothing outside moved. But it caught the dog’s attention. The scratching stopped for a second.
“I don’t think it’s nothing. There’s something out there. What did you say about bears?”
Timmy stretched in his seat, his thin fingers reaching for the ceiling.
“I was just messing, man. Bears? They’re probably hibernating this time of year.”
Alex lifted his hands and cupped them around his eyes, pressing his face up against the window and shutting out the light from inside the cabin.
“Oh. Yeah. Hibernating. Well, maybe mountain lions. Cougars. Could be a person?”
“I’m telling you, there’s nothing to be worried about. We’re alone. Anyway, mountain lions and cougars are the same thing. You’re doubling up your worries for nothing.”
“You don’t know that. How can you be so sure?”
“Because I really, really want it to be true. You want to argue with me?”
Timmy loved an argument. Alex wasn’t going to indulge him. But without any expertise of his own, his suspicions lingered, bubbling up into paranoia.
Alex walked to the door, where Finn still scratched at the wood.
“Doubling my worries? It’s the dog that’s doing that. Him and you.”
“Cougars and mountain lions don’t hibernate.” Joan stifled a yawn as she spoke. “I don’t think any cats do.”
“They’re the same thing.” Timmy had turned to face her. “Stop making him nervous. He’s been driving all day.”
Reaching for the door handle, Alex noticed his hand shivering. Must be the tiredness, he told himself. Warm enough and nothing to worry about. Tiredness plays weird tricks on the mind.
“I might just have a check anyway.”
Timmy and Joan had turned to one another, bickering again.
“Take the gun if you go,” Timmy called out as Alex opened the door. “Could be anything out there.”
The words prickled across Alex’s mind. There could be anything out there, he told himself. Probably nothing. He picked up the rifle on his way out. One with a scope, but only a small one. Timmy’s favorite.
The door clapped shut behind them, taking the light with it.
The world moved into focus as Alex’s eyes adjusted to the dark. He saw the forest: the dark shapes of the trees silhouetted against the thick blue abyss beyond. The darkness out here was different. Never black, just various shades on the way to nothingness. Grays and blues and greens, all the hues of the very edge of an iris. Only the shapes and shadows were truly black.
Finn sniffed at the air and ran, speeding away from the cabin, kicking wet leaves and mud into the air behind him.
Before he knew how to react, Alex gave chase, hurtling headlong into the night, following after the sound of the sprinting dog.
“Finn, stop. Stop!”
In the space between every thunderous step, Alex heard sounds.
A forest should be quiet, he thought to himself, but there was a cacophony of noise. Finn, running through the woods. Birds calling out, disturbed. In between it all, he heard a mewling. A growling. A purring. Loud enough to be heard over the footsteps. Whatever it was, Alex knew he was close.
The sound of the running dog halted and Finn barked. Fifty yards ahead, at least. The dog was fast. The forest had fallen silent. Finn barked again. Then Alex heard the roar.
His legs ran faster without being told. Faster and faster, his mouth hanging open and desperate for air. The roar came again, an elemental noise, the kind of sound every man had known since first dropping down from the trees millions of years ago. A sound to avoid at all costs.
“Finn! I’m coming!”
Alex arrived in a clearing. Even in the darkness, he could see two shapes. One, Finn, he knew. The other, he did not need to be told, slinked around the dog in a circle. It roared. A mountain lion. A cougar. Whatever the hell it was, it wasn’t hibernating.
“Hey! Hey, look over here!”
The shadow was on the other side of Finn, its shoulders low. Ready to pounce.
The butt of the rifle hit against Alex’s shoulder so fast it shook the bone. He stared through the scope. Too dark to see.
Finn barked again. The cougar roared. Finn edged back, away.
Alex lifted his head, looked along the side of the gun. The scope was no use. But he could see the shape, the outline of the big cat, crouched and ready to attack. Even lowered onto the ground, the cougar was twice the size of the dog.
The cougar snarled a challenge, its long teeth catching what little light was left in the clearing.
Alex fired the gun. He hadn’t aimed at anything. A warning shot shouted into the sky.
“Hey, back off. Back off! Finn, come here.”
The lion sank lower into the ground, its rear legs rising.
The smell of the gunshot crept into Alex’s nose. Those teeth would snap Finn’s neck clean in half. But the dog wouldn’t back down.
“I said back off!”
The cougar snarled, one long, slow rumble which filled up the forest. Birds flapped their wings and flew away into the night. Finn barked, each time sounding less forceful, and began to creep backwards.
Alex could feel his eyes straining along the barrel of the rifle. His finger lingered over the trigger. He knew he was hardly the best shot in perfect conditions. In the dark, he could barely separate the cat from the dog. Miss and he might hit Finn.
The cougar pounced, flinging itself across the clearing and landing on the dog. The two shapes rolled together into one. A single, snarling, yowling, yelping shadow.
The rifle dropped down and Alex ran. He ran straight into the fight, straight into the fray. He paused for a moment and raised the gun again. But dog and cougar were rolling, snapping, and slashing at one another. Try to hit one and he might kill the other.
Finn whined in pain.
The gun trembled in Alex’s hand. Useless. As powerful as it was, it couldn’t do anything to save Finn. Not like this, anyway. The bullet might even hit the dog. A hundred horrid images flashed through his mind, each one filling him with dread. He had to do something.
Alex secured the safety switch, took a firm grip of the rifle and raised it up above his head, edging closer to the maelstrom. The two creatures writhed around in front of him. Waiting, picking his moment, Alex brought the butt of the gun down hard and fast.
The wood cracked against a skull and all the sound stopped. Finn unpicked himself from the tangle and stepped off to the side, barking again. The cat, its head still vibrating with the blow, rolled on the ground.
The rifle raised up. Alex found the shot. He didn’t need the scope; the animal was so close. Safety off. He felt his finger brush against the trigger.
Behind him, Finn cried. High pitched and in agony.
Alex turned, his neck creasing to look back at his friend. Finn tried to lick his wounds and watch the cat at the same time. Again, the barrel of the rifle dropped. All the anger and the energy coursing through the man’s veins turned to sympathy as he looked at his dog. His friend.
The cougar scrambled to its feet, a trickle of blood flowing down its face and glowing in the moonlight. It ran, unsteadily and dazed, making its way toward the trees and the thick of the forest.
He stopped breathing. The muzzle of the gun tracked the shadow as it ran. Alex squeezed the trigger and felt the recoil shudder along his spine.
The cougar didn’t stop. It slowed down, either winged or worried. But it kept its course. Finn whined again.
Alex paused. His fingertip brushed the trigger, the slightest squeeze away from a second shot.
End it all now, he thought, kill the cougar dead. Chase it into the trees and make sure it dies. Make sure it can’t come back. If it was already hit, put it out of its misery. End it now.
Finn licked at his wounds with a quiet cry.
The gun lowered. The cat vanished. Alex turned back to his dog, slipping the rifle strap over his shoulder. He made his decision.
“Come on, boy.” He picked up the dog in his arms. “Maybe you’ll think twice about running off into the night next time. Let’s get you home.”
* * *
Alex pushed the door open with his back and carried the dog inside. Timmy and Joan had cleared the kitchen. The table was bare, the dishes washed to the best of their ability. Watered and wiped might be a more accurate description.
“Been anywhere nice?” asked Joan, not looking up.
“Out for a stroll,” said Alex, “stretching my legs.”
“How was-”
She fell silent as she saw Finn.
“What the hell happened?”
Joan jumped up from her seat and came across to Alex, helping him lay the dog in the tired, dusty armchair in the kitchen corner. Finn looked up, whined, and licked her hand.
“He got into a fight. Went charging off into the night. He’s fine, mostly just scratches. I checked him over best I could.”
Timmy was on his feet, too, ruffling the dog’s ears while Joan fussed over the wounds.
“You been fighting, boy? Who’d you fight? Bet the other guy is a mess.”
“It was a cougar. A mountain lion. A whatever.”
Joan had fetched the medical supplies they had from the bag. Disinfectant and bandages. She worked with the skill of a person who’d spent too much time in a pharmacy, a person who’d seen too many shallow wounds, scrapes, and other minor injuries. She held a piece of cotton between her teeth and spoke through it.
“Timmy, hold him still. He’s not going to like this.”
Finn jumped as she dabbed at a cut. Timmy held him steady. Alex sat down, laying the rifle on the table.
“Did you say it was a cougar, man? I didn’t think they were up round here. Did you get him?”
Alex shook his head.
“Did Finn get him?”