Scavengers

by Rosalyn Wraight

  Up front by the fireplace, Ginny and Kris stood, waiting to make their declaration of the weekend's agenda. They were both in their late fifties and seemed like the matriarchs of the group. They had been together for twenty-four years, a near-miracle in this community. I could remember many a phone call, many a night when I ran to them, seeking their wisdom, their shoulders, their nurturing. They were gauges by which many couples measured their relationships. Claudia and I were one of them, and we were not doing very well.

  "All right,” Ginny began. She rubbed her hands together. “Here's the deal. We've written down eight clues that will help you complete a scavenger hunt. It's not as simple as getting a list of things to collect, though. You first have to figure out what the item is, and then you have to find it or photograph it, depending on what the clues asks you to do."

  There were groans and contorted faces throughout the group.

  "You know,” Maggie interjected, “these things with clues all the time aren't really fair—not with a detective among us."

  Laura did the only thing appropriate. She stuck her tongue out at Maggie.

  "Don't give her that much credit,” Holly assured. “Sometimes she still can't tell her ass from a hole in the ground."

  Laura's eyes widened, her jaw dropped, and she swiftly turned to Holly. “But I can always tell your—oh, never mind.” She whipped around and lunged on top of Holly. Her fingers grabbed at her abdomen, and she tickled relentlessly.

  "Why is it that we all have to turn into school girls at these things?” Kris reprimanded, trying hard to squelch her own laughter. “Now listen up!"

  "We will divide by couples.” Ginny explained. “You will have until nine o'clock tomorrow morning to complete the tasks. We'll all meet at Drixel's Terrace for brunch. The winners, of course, will pick up the tab.” She smiled diabolically.

  The groans arose again.

  "But don't let that be an excuse not to win. Some of you—and we won't mention any names—”

  Ginny said, giving us the mandated clearing of her throat. “Some of you have a lot of face-saving to do!"

  "Like you were instructed in the invitation,” Kris reminded, “you will need a flashlight and a digital camera with two memory cards. And unlike traditional scavenger hunts, you may have to spend some money, but be creative and you may not have to. There are points earned for each completion, plus extra points—three hundred, two hundred, and one hundred—for the first three teams to complete."

  While she let the information sink in, she handed an envelope to each couple. Then she continued, “When you have a clue figured out and completed, you need to bring your item here.

  Ginny and I will verify it, record your time and score, and hold it for you—whateverit happens to be. Then we'll give you the next clue. If you get really, really, really stuck, give us a call.Maybe we will help. Oh, and this first one is for one hundred points."

  "Now get out of here!” Ginny ordered.

  As people readied themselves to leave, I wandered over to Claudia who was still studying the poor Danish. “Want one for the road?” I asked.

  "No. I'm not really hungry,” she replied.

  I didn't think there existed such a state as being together in aloneness, but suddenly, it felt as if that was precisely where we were.

  "Go!” Ginny ordered again, and off we went.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 2

  Like children hurrying without giving the appearance of running, each couple made their way to the cars on the tree-lined street. Eight door slams later, a smile crossed my face as I eased into the front seat. I was excited.

  Claudia started the car, revved the engine in a gentle, prodding way, and asked, “Okay, where am I off to?"

  "Oh, you just think these two old broads would just tell us where to go, simple as that? Two professors—psychology and comm arts?” I rolled my eyes. “Trust me: They will mess with us."

  "Yeah, you're right. So look at the clue then."

  I opened the sealed envelope with an assertive, confident rip. We were unsealing our fate.

  "'Here it is where we shall State,'” I read. “'The food of Zeus’ little nymph'! Ah shit, Greek mythology! Ah shit, Claudia! Do you know this stuff? I think I slept through it in school."

  "Let me see the paper,” she said.

  She irked me: I was a scatterbrained, overreacting child—and she would need to be my Ritalin.

  She held the sheet of paper under the rearview mirror, and we both stared at it.

  here it is where we shall State:

  the food for zeus’ little nymph—the big fat cow;

  scared to aphrodite—bird's foot ‘round her head;

  the lures of monarch lagoon, but not the tackle pay the toll to pass the gate: a right, a left, another left, right—so close now;

  right over there—by that strange little rental shed;

  take it correctly or a foot in each shackle

  "Okay, smarty pants, what the hell does that mean?” I demanded.

  Surprisingly, she said nothing. She set the paper down between the front seats, smoothed the hair on top her head, and then stretched her back like a cat. After another moment, she finally said,

  “Well, this is stupid, all of us sitting here like idiots who haven't a clue. Let's just speed away and let them all think that we've figured it out."

  With that little plan in motion, she backed the car up a few feet, pulled into the driveway across the street, and then reversed. With a conservative screech of the tires, she headed us down the street, away from the old Victorian, away from the other six sets of eyes that pored over the exasperating piece of paper.

  Ginny and Kris, I imagined, were standing in the front window, checking their watches, laughing at their little experiments.Screw them! We were going to win this thing!

  Claudia drove without a word until we were in the heart of downtown. Mainstreet, America, buzzed with Saturday morning ritual. She pulled the car into a parking spot. “Run into Timmer's Book & Bean and get us some fuel,” she instructed. “I'll try to decipher this thing."

  I grabbed some of the money we kept stashed in the ashtray that she forbade me to use. As I opened the door to make the run, she furthered her instruction, “Earl Grey, no sugar."

  "Oh really? I was going to get you a double froth latte, extra fat."

  "I thought they only made those for you,” she retorted, her own froth thick with sarcasm.

  "They do, but, hey, I'm not selfish.” I smiled at her and began my mission.

  When I returned several minutes later, she had set up shop at one of the outside tables. Most of them were unused, as early May mornings were not quite warm enough to suit most. She had a pen and was scrawling notes and underlining words.

  "Are you just checking their syntax or do you have any ideas there?"

  She uncapped her tea, took a cautious sip, and suggested that we take it line by line.

  "'Here it is where we shall State.’ I think that's just an intro. ‘The food for Zeus’ little nymph—

  the big fat cow.’ That's much harder,” she assessed. “Wasn't the almighty god of thunder the original nymphomaniac?"

  "Very funny, but yeah, he definitely had his share of women—mortal and otherwise. The big stud in the sky."

  "Okay, well, name some."

  "Calisto!” I yelled as though I had just spied bingo on a card. “She was turned into a bear. Oh, and Eurynome! With her he fathered the Muses—no—no, the Graces."

  "Any of them big and fat?"

  "They probably all were. They went for voluptuous in those days, not emaciated."

  "Okay, well that helps. Let's try the next line then. What is sacred to Aphrodite, and why would she have a bird's foot around her head?"

  "Around her head ... um ... probably a crown. She was the goddess of love and beauty ... nature ...

  flowers. Birds on the flowers? Argh!"

  "Well, keep going then. Next line: lures ... monar
ch lagoon ... not tackle. So lures that aren't fishing tackle."

  "Yes! You've got it!” I proclaimed. “Monarch Lagoon is a fishing hole at Mill Lake State Park, but that would mean fishing lures, not the exclusion of."

  "Maybe not. What's the lure of Monarch Lagoon, Kate?"

  "Well, nature, maybe, since we've got Aphrodite in the mix ... But I still can't figure the cow/woman."

  "Hey! ‘State’ is capitalized,” she announced triumphantly. “The only letter that's capitalized."

  "So state is a proper noun ... State Park. But a cow?"

  "Look.” She pointed to the paper. “Two bold letters in the line about Zeus. An O and an I, from food and little. Food little. Little food."

  "The State is starving us by taking all the fish!"

  "Oh, I'm sure that's it.” She rolled her eyes. “Think again, my little nymph."

  "Well, it seems to be certain that it's Mill Lake, doesn't it? Even more so if you have to pay a toll to get through the gate. You've got to have a state park sticker or a day-pass to get in. How about we head that way?” I suggested, lacking any better idea. “Maybe it will all make sense when we get there. No, wait! An I and an O plus Zeus! Io, the nymph is Io! His wife found out he was cheating with Io. He turned her into a heifer! A heifer! A cow!"

  "Boy, he was a nice guy, huh? So is it Mill Lake or not?"

  "Yeah, let's try—Oh shit, don't look, Claudia, but Alison and Lisa just drove by.” I said, lowering my head, trying to mould myself into the wrought-iron chair. “Cheaters!"

  "And how does driving by constitute cheating?"

  She laughed. She genuinely laughed, and in it, something carried itself to the core of me.

  Something that seemed vaguely familiar. Something that made me want to cry in remembrance.

  Instead, willful to maintain the lightening mood between us, I replied, “You write big. They were probably able to read every one of your notes as they drove by."

  "Did it cross your little mind that maybe they already figured it out and are heading back to Kris and Ginny's?"

  "Oh shit! No, it didn't! Get in the car. Get in the car now!” I yelled. “And I'll drive, since you seem to think that speed limits are laws."

  Against her better judgment, she slipped herself and all our stuff into the passenger side.

  I revved the engine, far from conservatively, and declared, “Hang on, Earl!"

  With that, she held her cup of tea in midair. The next leg of our mission kicked up its heel.

  Soon, any semblance of city disappeared, and Rural, America, had its way with us. The roads became narrower. Trees became closer. The farm fields were dotted with tractors tilling the soil, making ready for the induction of seed.

  "Cows,” I remarked, pointing to a grazing herd to the left of us.

  "Quick, go ask them if they know Zeus."

  Eventually, the meandering road led us to an enormous wooden sign that read:Mill Lake State Park. I turned in the drive to find a large deserted parking lot. At the far end of the lot was a small toll booth-looking structure with the silhouette of someone inside. I slowly approached, lowering the window as I went. A large sign hung onto the side of the structure with a long list of Don'ts. Not “Do come in.” Not “Do have a good time.” Just don'ts. I hated don'ts. “Don't camp without a permit. Don't fish without a permit. Don't leave the trails. Don't interact with the wildlife. Don't disturb the flora. Don't bring firewood from more than 25 miles away.”What?

  I paid the woman six dollars for a piece of paper that was to be wedged between the dashboard and the windshield. If the tag was not visible, we were told, we would get a stiff fine.

  I drove slowly forward and told Claudia to call out the directions contained in the clue. After the correct combination of turns, a small blue shed sat before us.Fishing Equipment Rental: this sign read.

  "I do believe we got it!” I declared.

  "And what exactly isit?" she countered. “Are we supposed to bring back the whole place? Take a picture of it? What?"

  "Well, how about we see what our competition does,” I said, pointing to Susan and Maggie who meandered the shoreline of Monarch Lagoon.

  We watched them for several minutes as I stealthily tried to park the car. It was obvious they knew no more than we did. They were aimless.

  "Look at the clue again, Claudia. What are we missing?"

  "State ... cow. Do we have a state cow?"

  "I wouldn't doubt it. Maybe we have a state nymph, too.” Then a light seemed to go on in my head with a brightness that blinded. “We do have a state flower, though. Grab the map from the glovebox, and see what it says."

  She slid her legs long toward the footboard and splayed the glovebox. She foraged until her persistent hands liberated the map. As she worked to unfold the Rubik's cube-like thing, I looked up to see whether Maggie and Susan appeared to be in the midst of an epiphany, but movement in the rearview mirror caught my attention instead. I glanced to see Laura and Holly parking and then swiftly exiting their vehicle. In unison with the slamming of doors, feet pounded the ground in a mad dash.

  "Shit, Claudia! Laura and Holly know the answer. Follow them! Follow them like we know, too!"

  Before I had even finished my directive, both of our doors flew open and we were in hot pursuit.

  Laura and Holly ran toward the lagoon, startling Maggie and Susan, who seemed to have the same idea: pretend to know.

  Suddenly Laura stopped in her tracks, turned around, and stretched her arms wide. “We were here first,” she roared. “Holly, go get it. I'll keep these goons at bay."

  "Not fair,” I screeched back at her. “We have every right to—” I shot Claudia a pleading look.A right to do what, Claudia?

  As if a mind-reader, Laura yelled, “A right to do what, Kate? Tell me what you have a right to do, and maybe then I'll let you pass."

  "We have a right to do whatever you're doing,” Claudia defended.Oh, that was brilliant.

  With a quick left and then a quicker right, I faked out Laura's moves, ran past her, and headed to where Holly had stopped. Before her was a neatly fenced-in area that held hundreds and hundreds of small purple flowers. Several butterflies, still groggy from the morning chill, flitted clumsily from flower to flower.

  "Oh, aren't they beautiful? Just beautiful!” Holly gushed, holding a palm to each cheek.

  "Yes, they are!” I exaggerated, trying to keep her enthralled and off task. “Beautiful! Very beautiful, Holly. What are they called again?"

  Instead of responding, she pointed to a small white wooden sign stuck into the earth.Bird's-Foot Violet: that sign read.

  "The state flower,” Claudia added, rather defeatedly, suddenly aware of what the quick glance at the state map had proffered. “One more minute and I would have had it!"

  "Ah, but we have it now,” I told her, but as I prepared to belly flop over the fence, the mounting energy within me came to a jolting halt as Claudia grabbed hold of my shirt.

  "What the hell are you doing?” I yelled at her, but as I did so, I saw the seemingly slow-motion lunge of Maggie over the fence. She landed in the midst of the flowers, plucked a handful, and let out a triumphant “Got it!"

  I moved anew to clear the fence, and yet again, I was held in place. “Why the hell are you stopping me?” I screamed. “Don't you want to win this thing?"

  "You can't pick them! It's against the law. You can't pick them,” she bellowed like a cow/woman.

  “Didn't you read the sign when we came in?"

  "Oh, screw that! Maggie's got one!” As I said that, I meant to look at Maggie to bolster my case, but instead, all I saw was a blur as she and Susan hauled ass back to the parking lot.

  I twisted my body to force myself from Claudia's grip, but she held me with a vengeance. Laura and Holly seemed to have forgotten the task at hand, and rather, they stood there watching the battle of wills.

  "'Take it correctly or a foot in each shackle,’ you goof! You can't pick them! It's against the law.


  Pick it and go to jail!” she wailed with self-righteousness.

  "Well, what in blazes does ‘take it correctly’ mean?” I demanded, still trying to wriggle free.

  "It means this,” Holly said, aiming her camera at the plot of violets and the two agitated butterflies.

  I glared at them in a way that seemed literally to burn my eyes. They laughed and immediately began a quick sprint to the parking lot. Then my scowl turned. Claudia let go of me, smiled sheepishly, and tried to smooth out the bunch in my shirt where her fist had attached itself.