Scavengers

by Rosalyn Wraight

  Coldly, I asked, “Do you have the goddamn camera?"

  "It's in the car. I'll go get it,” she uttered, and before I could arrange the crude mix of words in my mouth, she ran full force.

  Her absence was short, but it gave me enough time to plant myself on the earth and breathe deeply a few times. She snapped the necessary picture, and then as if willing to take her life in her hands, she turned the camera on me. She snapped a picture of my crumpled, defeated being.

  She reached out her hand to me, smiled, and said, “Come on, my little shrinking violet."

  We sped back to the city. One might guess that Claudia would have exercised enough restraint to forego pointing out speed limit signs, but the lover of rules did so anyway.

  By the time we reached Kris and Ginny's, Laura was strutting around like some freaking egomaniac peacock, Holly was stroking Muse, and Maggie and Susan were arguing that they had won even though they had killed a plant and broken the law. Eventually, Susan put the poor, little plant in the front yard and took a picture of it.

  "Time of death,” our cheeky detective pronounced, “eleven fifty-three AM."

  I was still grousing as Kris and Ginny approached us. Claudia removed the memory card from the camera and offered it in an outstretched hand.

  "Good job, ladies,” Kris said. She took the little blue card from Claudia and then jotted down our time on the clipboard.

  "Yeah, and thanks for not killing anything ... or each other,” Ginny noted as her eyes went back and forth between the two of us and then stopped on me.

  I took advantage of her focus. “Okay, ruthless one,” I said, grabbing Ginny by the front of her shirt. “What the hell does the cow/woman have to do with this?"

  "Ah, you weren't paying attention in my class, huh?” she challenged. “Zeus turned her into a heifer, which was admittedly cruel, but he also did one loving thing for her. Do you remember now?"

  My stare assured her that I did not know.

  "Okay, then, I'll refresh your memory” she said, happy to drill it into me once more. “Zeus put her in a never-ending field of violets—a delicacy to cows. So although he banished her, she still knew that he loved her. Sometimes you have to look at what isn't so obvious when you feel as though you've been banished."

  She waited for a response from me, but Kris seized the opportunity to push her way between us, envelope in hand. “Here's your next clue, guys. Another one hundred points. Now go,” she said, handing the envelope to Claudia. “You'd do better to keep moving."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 3

  Once again, we were back where we had started—in the car. I felt beaten, but certainly not defeated. I think what honestly bothered me the most was that it felt as if Claudia and I had been on opposing teams. She played by the rules. My thought was “screw the rules,” but had I done so, and had she given in, we would have lost. So, in essence, it was her playing by the rules that had saved us. I was wrong, but not one cell of me wanted to apologize, especially since I was expecting her to gloat. As soon as the doors closed, I waited for it.

  "You sure weren't off base when you said those two we're going to mess with us,” she began. “It feels like we scaled Mount Olympus only to get shoved back down."

  I still waited.

  "So are you ready for the next one?” she prodded—cautiously.

  "Why, so I can screw up again?” The words accused and did not question.

  "For Christ sake, Kate, it's just a game! We actually didn't do that bad. So what if Laura and Holly beat us? We beat Maggie and Susan. Plus, there are seven more to go."

  "The only reason we beat Maggie and Susan—and weren't standing next to them taking autopsy pictures in the front yard—is because you stopped me from doing the same thing they did. That's theonly reason."

  "So you're pissed off at me for stopping you from doing the wrong thing? Does that even make sense?"

  "Oh, and does it make sense that I'm holding you last night and you bust into tears? Then walk away, avoid me? Does that make sense?"

  "This has nothing to do with that!” she yelled, slamming the palms of her hands on the steering wheel.

  "No? I think it does. Today you're so quick to stop me from doing the wrong thing, but then at times, like last night, I beg you to tell me what I'm doing wrong, and you won't even look at me."

  "Please, Kate, can we not do this? Please?"

  "Well, what should we do instead then, Claudia? It's always ‘Can we not do this?’ or ‘Words don't seem to cut it.’ It's always something. There's always something that stops us from getting out of this muck that we're in."

  "Do you want out?” she asked, so point-blank that I could see the bullet traveling at me.

  "Out of this muck? Yes."

  "Out of this relationship?"

  I'm a weird creature that way. Sometimes I ask for things and then totally freak out when I get what I asked for. I asked her to talk; she talked. Maybe I just didn't want her to cut to the quick that way. A little verbal foreplay, maybe, and then thebam.

  "Do you want out of this relationship?"

  "Honestly?"

  "Yes, Kate, honestly. Lay it on me. I can take it."

  "Then honestly...” My voice splintered. “Honestly, I think I'd rather die."

  Dead silence. The point-blank bullet had ricocheted and hit her right between the eyes. Even so, I felt injured by its impact. I swallowed hard against the force of the guttural scream that was rising within me. Now what was I to do?

  I waited.

  Finally, from the edge of my vision I saw her turn toward me. I knew that it would take all the guts I had ever had to let my eyes meet hers. I had sent the bullet back at her. Had it again ricocheted? Had she reloaded? This time it would be mortal.

  "Kate,” she whispered. “Kate, look at me. Please."

  Damn!Do or die. Or maybe do and die. Fearing, dreading, I turned.

  I suddenly remembered, recognized the woman who was looking back at me. Her features were soft. Tears pooled in her eyes, but yet the sparkle I saw came from a different place—that soul-place inside that gave life beyond mere animation. I remembered her. I remembered her! I remembered her good soul and how it used to be a place where I felt welcome and at home.

  Home. I was not afraid, and so I looked deeply into her eyes, as if I was boring myself into that soul-place, scrubbing its walls clean, carving my name again.

  "Kate,” she said again. “I honestly think I would rather die, too. Maybe that's what I'm afraid of."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I don't know. I'm not sure I even want to know at this moment in time, but I will find out. I will.

  I promise,” she reassured, and this I needed to hear. “And then we'll find a way out of this muck.

  Because with all I don't know, I do know that this is not your fault. You're not doing anything wrong. I'm the one who changed the rules."

  "Okay. Promise noted.” I could breathe again, but damn, I needed to cry.

  "Now, partner, we are on the same team, and we have this ridiculous scavenger hunt to win.

  Open that envelope!"

  "You sure? You okay? Do you want to get something to eat first? I thought the messin'-with-us chicks would have at least fed us."

  "Yeah, I kind of did, too. I guess they put their maternal instincts on hold."

  "Yeah, and brought out the infernal instincts."

  We both laughed. It seemed to release the incredible hoard of emotion. We could move.

  "Okay, so let's see what hell they're putting us through this time."

  She handed me the envelope, and I knew that by day's end the ripping open of it would be a metaphor for something.

  "Okay, here we go."

  I held out the sheet, and we read.

  Zeus turned Io into a heifer. The cad!

  At this, she must have been really, really mad.

  But this clue's not the violet bed at her feet—

  Greek to Fren
ch—this time it's a bed ofpommes frites.

  Scarf, putone down—you two will be a shoo-in.

  From Molly, score the ticket to tap the win.

  "French fries!” I screamed! “French fries—and that god forsaken cow/woman again!"

  "That ‘really, really mad’ cow/woman."

  "Why does none of this surprise me?"

  After several stabs at possible solutions, we finally figured that the clue pointed us to French fries at Molly's Taphouse on Third. It was lunchtime, after all, and the maternal—for the moment—had usurped the infernal.

  Not surprisingly, there were a couple of cars we recognized in the parking lot behind the bar. We had again been beaten to the punch, but we were still vertical—and a little less stuck in the muck.

  We walked into the dimly lit room to find Laura and Holly laughing hysterically as they eavesdropped on the booth behind them. Laura motioned for us to sit with them, both simultaneously sliding over to make room. We sat and bent our ears, quickly detecting the voices of Susan and Maggie.

  "Because I can't! I'm vegan. I'm not going to eat a cow!"

  "Bet she'd eat granola,” Holly whispered, although “quietly yelled” might better describe, and we doubled over.

  Laura kicked Holly under the table, and in reflex, she brought her knee up so hard that the silverware rattled and the saltshaker fell and rolled off the table. She groaned and made a feeble attempt to kick back but was overruled by a chorus of shushing from the rest of us.

  "Come on, hon,” Susan said, “just step out of yourself for a moment. We already lost one round.

  It won't kill you. The cow's dead already anyway."

  "I'm vegan!"

  This time, every patron in the place turned to stare. Maggie abruptly stood and prepared to storm out of the bar, her ideals in tow. Instinctively, I rose and blocked her exit. “Whoa,” I dared.

  “Hang on a minute. There's got to be some way for you to complete the goal."

  She didn't respond; rather, she hung her head low, and I could still sense movement within her, that running in place without forward motion.

  "Why can't you eat the French fries, Maggie? Because of what they're fried in?"

  At that, the hysterical laughter ensued again, but this time, it was directed at me.

  I turned to the booth. “What? If they're fried in animal fat she can't eat them. Why is that funny?"

  Holly stood and put her arm around my shoulders. “Um, did you solve the riddle? This has very little to do with French fries, unfortunately."

  Laura handed Holly the menu, which she gleefully shoved in my face, her finger stabbing the top of the second page. “Mad Cow, chickie. A Mad Cow on a bed of French fries."

  I read what she pointed at, so very much in shock that I was unable to speak.

  "What? What is it, Kate?” Claudia begged.

  "She's speechless,” Holly declared. “Allow me.” She read, “'Our Famous Mad Cow Burger will drive you mad or make you mad. Two and a half pounds of seasoned ground beef, smothered with over a pound of Cheddar cheese, lettuce, pickles, onions, and tomatoes, served on a specially-made bun, and stacked on a bed of our famous fries. Finish this mother-of-all-burgers in 30 minutes or less, and we'll pay your tab.’”

  "Holy shit,” was all I could say. Claudia invoked a few holy names. Maggie's head still hung, and now I understood that it was with good reason.

  "Everybody standing here,” I screeched, “swear on all that is dear to you, that we will get Ginny and Kris back for this if it's the last thing we do! Two and a half frickin’ pounds! Holy shit!"

  Ever-thinking Claudia piped in, “I agree wholeheartedly with you, Kate, but I have a proposal. If this is supposed to be teamwork—one burger, one team—then Maggie, why don't you eat the fries, the veggies, and the bun? Susan can eat the burger."

  "No way!” Susan defended from over the high-back booth. “Plain old hamburger—all by myself?"

  Maggie's head suddenly reared, and she shot a look—one of those lethal ones—at Susan. “'Just step out of yourself for a moment! It won't kill you!'” she seethed.

  Oh, those were fighting words. They were the prelude to justifiable homicide, even with a detective in our midst.

  Everyone held their collective breath, waiting for whatever nasty thing was about to happen, when Susan, remarkably, said, “You're right, hon. Come on back. We'll do our best."

  Laura snapped her fingers at the waitress zooming down the isle. “We need two more Mad Cows, please. One here,” she said, pointing, “and one for these guys."

  Having ordered before anyone else, Laura and Holly got a head start on shoving pound after pound of burger down themselves. Sometime into it, I vowed never gain to eat another burger. I had lost a dear friend.

  We were close to halfway there when the back door opened with an intrusive creak. Once the blindness—caused by a massive inpouring of daylight—eased, we saw Alison and Lisa making their way into the bar. Neither looked very pleased.

  As if trying to avoid the awkward questions that came to everyone's minds, Laura again hailed the waitress. “These two ladies need a Mad Cow, too,” she said.

  "Thanks, Laura,” Alison responded, as the two of them slid into a booth.

  There was an awkward silence for a great many minutes, until I could stand it no longer.

  "Did you guys get tripped up on the stupid violet riddle?” I asked, leaning out of the booth.

  "That's one way to describe it,” Lisa snarled. “Not howI'd describe it, though."

  "We didn't do so hot either,” I said, trying to shake off whatever I had just stepped in.

  "No, that's not how she'd describe it,” Alison chimed in. “She'd say it was all my fault. She was right, and I was wrong."

  "Youwere wrong! There isn't a goddamn state cow! She got us to some big ass cow statue. Said we needed to pose with it."

  "Did you pose with it?” Holly dared. “I'd love to see the pic."

  Lisa just stared blankly at her, and Holly mouthed back, “Well, I would."

  Alison, heedless to the interruption, continued, “And you knew all along that is was a violet we were looking for? Is that what you're claiming?"

  "Not at first—no.” she conceded.

  "And when did it dawn on you, Lisa? Exactly when?"

  "You know when."

  "Tell us, then,” Alison furthered.

  "When we finally cheated and went to the goddamn library and looked it up! Happy?"

  "Not really."

  Thank God for efficient waitresses! She hoisted the Mad Cow to the mad/cow women, and both Holly and I slid back into our respective booths.

  After groaning and cussing and suddenly understanding the need for elastic waist pants, the six of us had finished. We congregated at the bar while waiting for our checks. Maggie suggested that perhaps we should all lend a hand (or another body part, specifically) and help Lisa and Alison finish up the task so that we'd all be back in the running again. Most of us thought that to be a fair idea, since this portion of the hunt seemed to put us all on the same team.

  Laura walked to their table and offered our help.

  Alison's jaw dropped, and she quickly responded, “That would be so—"

  Before she could finish, however, Lisa said, “We don't need your help. Thanks."

  "But, Lisa—” Alison pleaded.

  "I said we don't need their help.” She stared at Alison in a way that hobbled her.

  "Thanks anyway, guys.” she said apologetically.

  We quietly paid our tabs, and as we did so, I spied Holly jotting something on a napkin. She handed it to Laura and asked her to slip it to Alison, saying that it was their cell phone number,

  “in case she needs help."

  Laura did so, without getting caught, and then we all headed out the back door. There, I heard, but did not utter, the f-bomb. I heard, but did not utter—even though I felt desperate to—the b-word.

  "Okay, so what do we do now, girls?” Clau
dia asked. “About this game I mean. Do we all drive like maniacs and whoever gets there first is the winner?"

  "I have a better idea,” Maggie said. “You guys helped me—us—more than you will ever know.