The Truth Circle

by Cameron Ayers

  * * * * * *

  The sun had set as the last of the stragglers — Lamar and Coop — entered the wigwam. Lamar was explaining the concept of botnets to a bewildered Coop, whose computer prowess was limited to navigating the OS and working in Excel.

  Beverly was already nestled in her sleeping bag, her makeshift nightshade on top of her head, while Gaby was trying to find a comfortable position to lie in hers without inflaming her tender tush. Wade, on the other hand, was still hard at work on his pelt, having moved from skinning the hide to tanning it. He had spread the skin out over the cooking grill, with each end of it threaded through holes in the grill’s perimeter to hold it in place as he worked. With the fur side facing the grill, Wade carefully scraped away the interior flesh and fat. Beside him was the pail holding the brains and blood, which he’d cooked and mixed together to form a grayish, viscous material with the consistency of toothpaste.

  “That’s why, up until last week, I always used an anonymizer,” Lamar explained as he ducked through the low entrance. “Tor is great for surfing, but it’s too slow to run a DDOS on open resolvers. I’m partial to OnionShare, though I know guys who swear by GitHub.”

  Coop nodded, but it was clear he had no idea what Lamar was talking about.

  “Fair warning,” said Gaby, who was lying down to the right of the entrance.

  “Warning about wh … what is that?” Lamar cried, wrenching his head away in disgust as the smell of brain pâté reached his nostrils.

  Coop, who was standing right behind him, had a similarly strong reaction, and began waving away the smell with his hand.

  “That,” Gaby said evenly.

  Scraaape-scraaape-scraaape-scraaape

  “Do you really need to do that in here?” Coop chided Wade.

  Wade responded by dipping a finger into the nauseating concoction and rubbing it into one of the scraped sections of the skin.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Beverly declared, looking the other way.

  “At least he’s not eating it,” Lamar whispered to her as he passed, a joke that elicited no laughter.

  “Should we build a fire?” Coop asked as he tied the teepee’s entrance closed.

  “I don’t think we need to,” Gaby responded, still trying to find a comfortable sleeping position. “It’s warmer than it was last night. If we keep the flue closed, our sleeping blankets should be enough.”

  She sat up and tugged on the pull chain hanging from the rafters, narrowing the opening into the wigwam.

  “That’s not what I’m talking about,” Coop said as he located his sleeping blanket. “John told us to always keep a fire going from dusk until dawn. Plus, it might help with the … odor.”

  “If you want to go out there and split some logs and collect the kindling, we won’t stop you,” Beverly declared with a yawn, pulling down her improvised eyeshade.

  Scraaape-scraaape-scraaape-scraaape

  “Lamar, what changed last week?” Gaby asked.

  “Huh?”

  “You said you used to do all that hacker stuff, but something happened last week,” Gaby pressed. “What changed?”

  Lamar reddened with embarrassment, and his voice dropped slightly.

  “It’s a bit complicated, but lets just say it ended with mom taking an axe to my rig and my phone,” Lamar said.

  Gaby and Coop both looked over at him wide-eyed, sparking a small smile from the young man.

  “I’m not joking,” he said quietly, miming several wild axe swings with him arms to drive home the point. “I’m not allowed any kind of tech now, not even an iPod. That’s why I use this,” he said, pulling the Walkman from his rucksack.

  “Ugh,” Gaby replied. “It’s only been two days since I’ve used my Android and it already feels like two years. I can’t imagine going a week with no phone or email.”

  Beverly chortled to herself.

  “All any of you can think of is life before all this,” she said sardonically. “Try imagining life after it. Just think about all the money you’ll get when this is over.”

  Gaby looked at her quizzically.

  “What money?”

  Beverly raised her eyeshade slightly and propped herself up on one elbow.

  “From the lawsuit, obviously,” she said as though it were obvious to anyone. “We’ll file a class-action suit and take that man to the cleaners. He’ll wind up in debt to us for the rest of his miserable life.”

  Coop, who had pulled a photo from his wallet and was staring thoughtfully at it, rolled his eyes but said nothing. Gaby, however, wasted no time articulating her feelings.

  “None of us are going to see a dime from this,” she insisted. “Do you really think he has any money to his name? I mean, look at this place. Even his office is a rental.”

  “Besides, he’s long gone by now,” Lamar chimed in. “Face it: the only thing any of us are going to get out of this is fame. Six people abandoned in the woods escape with no training — that makes for one helluva story. We’ll go viral overnight.”

  “Fame?” Gaby said slowly, contemplating the idea. “Not sure I like the sound of that, even if it is for only 15 minutes.”

  “Sure, we’ll be just another meme within a couple of months,” Lamar acknowledged. “But until then? Our faces will be plastered all over TV and the internet.”

  Scraaape-scraaape-scraaa …

  Wade abruptly stopped scouring the skin and put down his knife.

  “I don’t want to be famous,” he spontaneously declared. “And I’m not going back.”

  He picked the knife back up and continued his work, the scraping noise now more pronounced in the stunned silence of his pronouncement.

  Gaby and Lamar looked at one another, confused not only by his words but by his sudden decision to join in the discussion. Even Beverly seemed taken aback, giving a small “Hmm,” before pulling her eyeshade back down.

  Only Coop seemed unflustered.

  “To be honest, I’m with him on the fame,” Coop said, returning the photo to his wallet and lying down with a huff. “I don’t want any part in a media circus. If you all sell your stories to the tabloids, be sure to keep my name out!”

  Coop rolled over on his side with a huff as Lamar and Gaby watched in confusion. One by one they lay down and closed their eyes.

  Lamar slipped on his headphones, hoping the Eagles would drown out the noise Wade was making. It was a long time before he could get over the unsettling sound of serrated steel scouring flesh and once more embrace the world of dreams.

  Monday

  It was mid-morning and Coop, Gaby and Ken were all in line for the shower, waiting for Beverly to finish her turn. Ken made no mention of last night’s events; he seemed like his old, smug self again, handing out demeaning nicknames and cutting remarks with such alacrity that the others could be forgiven for thinking that last night’s meltdown had simply been a dream.

  Perhaps it was the fact that Wade wasn’t there; just like yesterday, he was gone at first light. His fox fur remained behind, air drying on Lamar’s jerry-rigged clothesline.

  Coop — who was at the front of the line — was quietly talking with Gaby behind him while Ken did his best to dominate the conversation from the back of the line.

  “You still bothered by it?” Gaby asked Coop gently.

  “A little,” he admitted in a disheartened tone.

  “That’s what you get for putting your faith in a plastic shaman,” Ken said derisively, earning him a glare from Gaby. She opened her mouth to upbraid him but Coop stopped her.

  “It’s okay. He’s right. I really thought John would be back by now.”

  “He may still come back,” Gaby said comfortingly.

  “Now you’re just deluding yourself,” Ken said with a laugh. “Dances With Dickheads is long gone. The only way we’re getting out of here is on our own two feet.”

  “For someone so pessimistic, you sure are cheery about it,” Gaby observed.

  “I came to a reali
zation this morning,” Ken replied with an anticipatory grin. “Waking up in that open field, watching the sun rise surrounded by dew-covered grasses, I remembered why I came out here in the first place. Yesterday, I was so angry, so confused about our situation that I wasn’t thinking straight. I got so caught up in all the life and death stuff that I forgot that this is precisely why I’m here. I want the kind of challenge you can’t find in a boardroom. I was never interested in any of that frou-frou mystic mumbo-jumbo you all signed up for. I came to be challenged. And this,” he paused, lifting his arms and motioning to the wilderness surrounding them, “this is the greatest challenge we’ll ever face.”

  Coop tried to process Ken’s new outlook.

  “So does that mean you’re sticking things out with the rest of us?” he asked.

  “Fuck no!” Ken scoffed. “Every one of you deserves a padded cell for thinking that anybody’s coming for us. It just means that I’m not going to rush out again blindly. I want to do it smarter, get the lay of the land before I try again.”

  Gaby knocked on the cedar door of the cabana-style shower.

  “Beverly?” she asked. “How’re you doing?”

  “It’s freezing in here!” Beverly complained as icy river water cascaded down her body.

  “Don’t force yourself,” Gaby replied. “The last thing you want is to catch a cold out here.”

  “Just a little longer,” Beverly replied through chattering teeth. “I still need to clean …”

  “Don’t say it,” Ken muttered to himself, trying to block out any accompanying mental pictures.

  “… my hair,” Beverly finished, much to Ken’s relief.

  Coop rolled his eyes at Ken’s theatrics.

  “Just for that, you can prime the water pump for me and Gaby,” Coop insisted. Much to Coop’s surprise, Ken neither mocked nor challenged him. He simply shrugged his acquiescence.

  Beverly shut off the water and grabbed her towel hanging over the shower door.

  “I’ll never take hot water for granted again!” Beverly exclaimed as she ran the towel vigorously over her body, focusing more on generating friction heat than drying off. She grabbed a black one-piece draped over the shower’s rear wall and emerged 30 seconds later, shaking like a leaf. She had weaned herself off the makeshift crutch, but walked slowly and with a pronounced limp.

  Instead of making a beeline for the comparative warmth of the teepee, she lingered for a moment, taking Gaby aside and speaking in a hushed voice as she shivered.

  “When you’re done in there, would you mind helping me put on my face?” she whispered to Gaby. “I seem to have left my compact at home and I don’t want to look like the rest of these savages,” she said, not registering that she’d managed to insult Gaby and ask her for help in the same breath.

  Gaby took the unintended slight in stride and nodded her agreement. Beverly smiled in gratitude and limped toward the wigwam to change, rubbing her arms furiously as she went.

  In front of her, Coop was laying his towel over the stall door, fussily smoothing out the creases as he waited for Ken to finish priming the hand pump at the rear of the showers.

  “You just about finished there, Ken?” Coop called out.

  “One more pump should …”

  Ken’s voice trailed off and the pumping abruptly ceased.

  Concerned, Coop leaned back to look past the stall wall. Ken was staring at something off to his left, out of Coop’s sight line. His face was a study in slack-jawed wonderment.

  “I … I don’t believe it,” Ken managed to spit out after a few moments. “He’s back!”

  Ken turned to Gaby and Coop with the look of a small child on Christmas morning.

  “He’s back! John’s back!”

  He started waving his arms wildly in the air.

  “John! Hey, over here!”

  Gaby and Coop rushed over to look. They pushed past Ken and followed his gaze to the downward slope leading into the floodplain. They didn’t see anything except for trees and grass swaying in the wind.

  “Where is he?” Coop asked.

  Ken said nothing.

  Coop looked back over his shoulder to ask again, only to find that Ken was gone. That’s when he heard the stall door open and the water start.

  “You unbelievable bastard!” Coop shouted as Ken howled with laughter.

  “Dammit, Ken!” Gaby exclaimed. “That’s not funny!”

  “You should have seen the looks on your faces!” Ken chortled as he pushed Coop’s towel off the shower door to make room for his own.

  “You better hope the water doesn’t cut off before you’re done, because if you step out to prime the pump, I’m taking your place,” Coop warned.

  In contrast to Beverly, who viewed the cold shower as an unfortunate necessity, Ken seemed to thrive under the icy creek water.

  “This is soooo invigorating!” he exclaimed as he lathered up, mainly to annoy the others.

  Lamar emerged from the Braves outhouse to find Ken gargling loudly, Gaby warning him not to drink the water and Coop kicking the stall in frustration. He decided to see what all the fuss was about.

  “Morning. What’s going on?” he asked as he drew closer. Ken had shifted from gargling to imitating a water fountain, spraying water overhead.

  “Just Ken being himself,” Gaby replied with a sad shake of her head as she plucked Coop’s towel from the ground and dusted it off. “You joining us?”

  “Ehh, maybe when the air’s a little warmer,” Lamar said.

  “You could use one,” Coop said tersely. He was standing downwind and still fuming over Ken’s prank.

  Lamar looked at him dumbstruck. Gaby quickly jumped in with a more diplomatic approach.

  “Lamar, I didn’t want to say anything, but you are getting a bit whiffy,” she said, her tone almost apologetic.

  Lamar lifted an arm and buried his face in the pit.

  “I don’t smell anything,” Lamar said as he reemerged.

  On the other side of the campsite, Beverly exited the wigwam in a cashmere pullover and champagne-colored slacks, carrying her damp towel and bathing suit as she hobbled over to the clothesline. Not 30 seconds later, Wade emerged from the forest with a dead hare in hand and a fourth bloody scar carved into his chest to commemorate the kill.

  Lamar saw his approach and rapped on the shower door.

  “Heads up,” he said. “Your BFF is back.”

  Ken, who was just tall enough to peer over the shower walls if he stood on his toes, cursed when he spied Wade.

  “Fucking peachy,” Ken groaned as he turned off the water and started toweling off, hoping he could make a quick exit from the campsite before Wade spotted him.

  Wade took no notice of the group congregating at the shower, instead making a beeline for the firepit just as Beverly was hobbling toward it, en route to the clothesline. Even though the two seemed to be on a collision course, Beverly continued limping forward, assuming Wade would stop out of courtesy, allowing her to pass. Instead he barreled right through the older woman like she wasn’t even there, knocking her to the ground and sending her wet clothes flying.

  Wade paused a moment to look over his shoulder at a dazed Beverly before continuing on as though nothing had happened.

  Beverly rolled onto her hands and knees and tried to get up, but her arms were rubbery after the collision and struggled to support her weight.

  Gaby and Coop rushed to Beverly’s side and helped her to her feet.

  “Are you hurt?” Gaby asked, concerned as she saw Beverly’s knees begin to buckle.

  Instead of answering, Beverly started shouting at Wade.

  “Hey,” she gasped. “What’s the matter with you? Apologize!”

  Wade kept on walking.

  Beverly shrugged off the others and staggered toward Wade, struggling to keep her feet.

  “I know you can hear me!” she shouted. “Don’t you walk away from me!”

  Wade didn’t respond and continued walking
to the firepit.

  “Your mad-dog killer routine doesn’t frighten me!”

  Wade stopped suddenly, but Beverly was so livid she scarcely noticed as she lurched toward him.

  “You have no idea who you’re messing with!” she continued. “When we get back, I’ll sue you …”

  Wade suddenly spun on his heels to face her.

  The hatred in his sunburned face could not have been more palpable. His eyes had narrowed to dangerous slits as his jawline quivered with rage. He clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened. He looked for all the world like a bull about to charge.

  Beverly stopped short, caught off guard by the pure aggression that Wade radiated. Her face, flush with anger at his rudeness, slowly drained of all color as she started to grasp the gravity of her situation.

  Wade dropped his prize kill and strode forward.

  Beverly began backtracking, afraid that if she turned to flee, it would only provoke the bull. Words continued trickling out of her mouth, but they no longer held the same power as her mind and body hastily divorced themselves from her voice.

  “… for every …” she continued.

  The others stood on the periphery, uncertain what to do. Gaby and Lamar worried that intervening would only worsen the situation. Coop stood to one side, mouth agape as he tried to process what was happening. Even Ken, who had finally finished drying off and was now standing a few feet behind Gaby, had no idea what to do.

  Beverly was so preoccupied with the murderous glint in Wade’s eyes that she didn’t even realize where she was walking until she felt stacks of logs against her heels. She’d backed herself into the log rack and now had nowhere to go. Wade pressed forward, unmoved by the pleading in Beverly’s pallid face. He now stood three feet away.

  “…dime…” she continued breathlessly.

  Two feet away.

  “…you …” she said shakily.

  One foot. If Beverly could have merged with the logs, she would have.

  “…own,” she whispered, pressing her back against the logs.

  Wade stood toe to toe with her and leaned in menacingly. His hot breath reeked. Beverly couldn’t look away, entranced by the malevolent glint in his eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. In this light, his brown irises appeared flecked with red, as though his hatred were so consuming that it literally shone forth from his eyes.