The Truth Circle

by Cameron Ayers

  “Nooo,” he intoned, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Ken knelt down a few paces from the right bank and lifted a fallen tree branch near the water, revealing the T-shaped metal cleat John had used to anchor the cooler in the water. The frayed nylon cords that had once held their food were still visible.

  “This can’t be real,” Lamar exclaimed, taking a step back, scarcely believing his own eyes.

  Ken whirled around to face Lamar, his face flush with rage.

  “You stupid motherfucker,” he hissed.

  Lamar shook his head vehemently.

  “Every time we veered off course, I kept us going north,” he insisted, though his voice was cracking with despair. “I steered perfectly. There has to be some other explanation!”

  “There is,” Ken roared, standing up. “You’re a fucking idiot!

  “We spent all day walking around in a giant circle because you don’t know which way north is!” Gaby screamed, hurling a stone at Lamar, who reflexively ducked even though the stone landed five feet to his left.

  “This is all your fault, you stupid, underwear-stealing son of a bitch!!!” Gaby screeched as she leapt to her feet and charged Lamar. Coop put himself between them, throwing up his arms to block her path but careful not to lay hands on her, remembering how sensitive she was to contact with others.

  “All of that walking for nothing!” she kept shouting, jabbing a finger at Lamar over Coop’s shoulder. “All because of you!”

  “It’s not possible,” Lamar insisted, feeling tears of shame and confusion well up in the corners of both eyes. “I followed the directions perfectly. Your directions!” he shouted at Ken. “Two shadows, 15 minutes apart. Straight line pointing north.”

  Ken stiffened momentarily, not expecting to be called out. Despite all his methodical preparations for this moment, he hadn’t expected Lamar to blab about their shared secret. Ken saw the others’ irate eyes shift toward him. He had to think fast.

  “The line points … EAST!!!” he fake seethed, clenching and unclenching his fists as he fed off the manufactured rage. “I told you east, with a 15-degree shift every goddamn hour! You’ve been doing it wrong this whole fucking time!”

  Lamar gawked at the blatant lie, opening and closing his mouth silently like a fish trying to breathe out of water.

  “You … you didn’t say any of that!” Lamar finally managed to stammer out, dumbfounded as much by Ken’s seething rage as his deceit. Was he trying to cover up his own mistake, or was there something else going on here?

  “You dumb motherfucker,” Ken intoned, the vein on his forehead bulging in anger as he strode forward. “Don’t blame me because you couldn’t follow my directions,” he lied. “You navigate like old people fuck: badly!”

  “You’re a liar!” Lamar spat back, slowly coming to recognize that he was being set up. He looked to the faces of the others, desperate for any sign of validation. Coop stared at him piteously, while Gaby was still in a rage.

  “You stupid, simpering little shit!” Ken raged, his voice turning guttural for the first time today as he started toward Lamar. The young man flashed back to Ken’s uncontrollable anger yesterday, when he’d used the same voice. It was like a brutal switch had been flipped in Ken’s mind, one stripping him of all self-control.

  Lamar raised his spear and pointed it at Ken.

  “Stay away,” he warned, taking a step back defensively.

  Ken paused for half a second, just outside the range of Lamar’s spear. His eyes narrowed to flint points at the provocation, and he stepped forward again.

  “I mean it,” Lamar insisted in a cracking voice, realizing how empty his threat sounded. He gave a tentative thrust. Ken batted away the feeble strike, knocking the spear out of Lamar’s hands. He grabbed the younger man by the throat.

  “Buckle up, babyfat!” he intoned as he made a fist with his right hand and reared back. Something caught on the sleeve of his right arm. He tugged against it and it didn’t budge. He pulled harder and Coop lost his grip and was sent sprawling. Ken dropped Lamar and whirled around on Coop.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Prancing Queen?” he raged gutturally. As Coop picked himself up from the mud, Ken noticed that Gaby was beside him, and she didn’t look angry anymore, she looked concerned. It took Ken’s rage-addled mind a moment to register that he was the source of her anxiety; that his fit of uncontrollable anger had burned all the hatred out of her and replaced it with naked fear.

  “He’s not worth it, Ken,” Gaby implored him.

  Ken looked over at Coop and saw that same fear in his eyes as he nodded his agreement with Gaby.

  Ken bit at his lower lips, struggling to control the hate welling up inside him. He shook in anger for a moment, and then his eyes cleared. He turned back to Lamar and shoved him into the creek. Lamar came up sputtering a moment later.

  “Some leader you turned out to be,” Ken said, his voice no longer guttural as he slowly regained control of his emotions. He turned and started walking east, toward the camp. “If we die tonight, it’s on you.”

  Lamar sat up in the freezing water, looking piteously at Coop and Gaby as he blinked back tears.

  “He’s lying,” Lamar insisted. “You have to believe me. It’s all some kind of setup.”

  Gaby shook her head in disgust and followed Ken.

  Lamar turned to Coop, who stared at him with a mixture of pity and disgust.

  “Coop, buddy? You believe me, right?” Lamar pleaded.

  Coop turned away, shaking his head sadly as he went to collect Beverly.

  “Fine! I don’t need any of you!” Lamar shouted after him. “If you all don’t believe me … then to hell with you! It’s not my fault! I was set up! I was set up!!!” he screamed into the wilderness as hot tears of shame and bitterness streamed down his cheeks.

  * * * * * *

  Lamar kept his head down to avoid the burning stares of his former friends as they all worked feverishly to prepare for another night in the wigwam. Gaby chopped wood by the log pile, while Coop gathered twigs and leaves for kindling. Ken was in the wigwam, keeping an eye on Beverly, who was still delirious. And Lamar was busy raking away the mounds of ash scattered across the campsite following last night’s ordeal.

  No one spoke, though Lamar suspected the others had more than a few choice words for him. The campsite was exactly as they’d left it, right down to the baggage and clothing they’d abandoned when they set out this morning. This morning; it seemed strange to think that less than eleven hours ago, Lamar had been in charge and was best friends with Coop and Gaby. Fate could be cruel sometimes.

  “Another glorious night in purgatory!” Ken exclaimed sarcastically as he emerged from the wigwam with the drinking pail in hand.

  Coop rolled his eyes.

  “For the last time, we’re lost, not on Lost.”

  Ken sneered as he made a beeline for the water pump.

  “You’re right,” Ken replied with a grunt of exertion as he primed the pump. “If we’re stuck in any show, it’s St. Elsewhere. We’re all trapped in that retard’s snow globe!”

  Lamar paused to stretch his aching lower back after raking out the entrance to the fence. That ache, along with the ire of his comrades, were all he had to commemorate the day’s myriad misadventures. But he was taking at least some measures to avoid repeating the experience. After seeing how his bag had magically shed cans of food and gained unexpected things — like brassieres and empty canteens — he would made certain not to let it out of his sight again. That’s why when the others dumped their bags in the wigwam like they normally did, Lamar went against the grain, setting his on a stool beside the central firepit in the middle of camp, where he could see if anyone approached it.

  Ken gave Lamar the evil eye as he shoved past him with the water, sending some sloshing over the sides.

  Lamar heard a “thunk” as Gaby dropped the hatchet and gathered an armload of wood. As he kept his eyes trained on the gro
und in front of him, Gaby’s shoes suddenly appeared in his field of vision, followed rapidly by her jeans. He looked up, and there she was standing in front of him, cradling half a dozen split logs in her arms as he stood in front of the entrance. They locked eyes silently. Lamar waited half a second before deciding that he should be the first to speak.

  “Thanks for doing that, Gaby,” he said as he set the rake down beside the entrance, reflexively relapsing into his former role as group leader. “A few more armfuls should get us through the night. Now if you could just put those in the …”

  “If you’re not going to move, then haul them yourself!” Gaby spat at him as she dumped the logs at his feet before turning on her heels and walking away.

  “Or, you could just leave them here,” he said under his breath, mentally chastising himself for his mistake. She hadn’t approached him for advice; she had been waiting for him to move out of the way. The bitter recrimination in her eyes and voice stung deeply.

  As he bent down to pick up the firewood, Coop knelt beside him to help.

  “She’s still mad at me,” Lamar said, stating the obvious in hopes of breaking through the icy wall of silence Coop and Gaby had built around him.

  Coop snorted his annoyance.

  “She’s not the only one,” he muttered.

  “I appreciate you helping with this,” Lamar tried again, more tentatively this time.

  “I’m not doing this for you,” Coop insisted. The sooner we get the wood in there, the sooner we get a fire going. That’s it.”

  “Nevertheless, I appreciate it.”

  Coop shook his head in disgust.

  “I can’t believe we trusted you,” Coop continued after a moment, seemingly eager to unleash his venom after so long a wait. On the other side of the fence, they could hear Gaby chopping more wood. Judging by the forceful sound of each chop, she had found a viable outlet for her aggression.

  “Look, I get it. I screwed up,” Lamar admitted.

  Coop made a noise that was halfway between a grunt and a forced laugh.

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “Okay, I acted like an asshole,” Lamar said.

  Coop simply stared at him, his pained expression reflecting the rift that had grown between them.

  After enduring Coop’s glare for several uncomfortable seconds, Lamar finally caved.

  “Fine, I acted like a colossal asshole!” he conceded in exasperation. “Future generations will build monuments to my douchiness! There, does that get me out of the doghouse?”

  Coop’s narrowed eyes and piercing stare was all the answer needed.

  “If it weren’t for your string of fuck ups toward the end, you’d probably still be lording it over us as we speak,” Coop whispered fiercely at him. “I still can’t believe you threatened to abandon Gaby just because she questioned your decision.”

  Lamar winced at the memory.

  “I admit it: I got a swelled head for a while there.”

  “Along with bad advice from a worse person,” Coop said. “Your mistake was listening.”

  Lamar nodded penitently.

  “I know,” he said quietly. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Friends?”

  Coop scooped up the last of the firewood and stood up.

  “Just don’t do it again,” he said resignedly. It wasn’t a commitment, but it was the best Lamar was likely to get.

  “I promise,” Lamar vowed solemnly.

  Coop’s flinty expression softened a bit at Lamar’s.

  “As for Gaby, give her time,” he advised.

  “You really think she’ll come around?”

  “Eventually. I mean, you did steal her underwear.”

  Lamar rolled his eyes in exasperation.

  “I already told you …”

  “Allegedly,” Coop teased.

  Lamar paused to watch the sun kiss the western edge of the horizon. The shadows around them were lengthening, but not yet deepening, because the sun had reserved its harshest light for the end of the day, as if it was signaling that it wouldn’t go down without a fight. Lamar sympathized.

  “Do you think those things from last night will come back?” he asked quietly.

  “Those iku?” Coop responded. “Probably. I don’t believe they’re some mystical spirits coming for our souls, like Gaby, but they clearly want something from us. And since they didn’t get it last night …”

  “What could those things possibly want with us?”

  Coop shrugged.

  “I imagine the same thing that most predators want: to eat us. I wouldn’t ascribe any deep motivation to animals.”

  Lamar shook his head.

  “Those aren’t like any animals we’ve ever seen. Part of me thinks they want something else.”

  “Like what?” Coop asked as he gingerly deposited the rest of the firewood into Lamar’s outstretched arms.

  “Dunno,” Lamar said, looking around the pile of wood in his arms to maintain eye contact with Coop. “But I’m pretty sure they’re not here to sell us time-shares.”

  From over the fence they heard Gaby’s voice.

  “Coop, you’re supposed to be gathering kindling,” she called out testily, like a schoolmarm who’d caught her prize pupil passing notes in class. “How about getting back to work?”

  “Duty calls,” Coop said as he walked toward the northern boundary of camp in search of more dried leaves and twigs.

  Lamar entered the fenced region and walked toward the teepee, his arms laden with wood, craning his neck around the pile to see where he was walking. He lifted his foot to kick at the wooden entrance when he paused at the sound of raised voices inside the structure. He recognized them — Ken and Beverly — but the heavy layer of animal skins decorating the teepee’s exterior muffled their words. He leaned in closer. It sounded like they were arguing over something.

  A loud slapping noise pierced the din, suddenly cutting Beverly off. Lamar’s eyes widened in alarm, but he made no move to intercede.

  Lamar strained to understand the conversation, trying to piece together the occasional deciphered word like a jigsaw puzzle. It was clear that Ken was plotting something, but he couldn’t discern what, and it didn’t sound like Beverly was being very cooperative. If anything, it sounded like she was ranting again, but about what was anyone’s guess.

  The wigwam door pushed outward, and out stumbled Beverly, shaking and drooling, her manic eyes darting every which way as she lurched drunkenly forward. It was quite a contrast from how frail and helpless she had seemed less than an hour ago. While she was ambulatory once more, Lamar wouldn’t classify her condition as an improvement, as she appeared completely insane.

  Beverly brushed past Lamar like he wasn’t even there, bobbing and weaving awkwardly as she staggered toward the fence line, suffused with frenzied energy. Lamar spied Gaby’s magnesium stick in her blackened left hand. She had something in her right hand as well, but Lamar couldn’t tell what; he caught only a brief glimpse of something reflective between her fingers before she stumbled out of the fenced area and disappeared around the corner.

  Lamar dropped the wood and bolted for the fence line, where he ran into Coop.

  “Hey, any idea why Beverly just ran off into the woods?” Coop asked him, pointing north of camp. “She was acting weird, even by her standards.”

  “She has the magnesium stick,” Lamar replied breathlessly. “I don’t know what she’s planning, but unless we find her, there won’t be any fire tonight.”

  Coop’s eyes went wide. No fire meant no protection from the iku, and they were getting perilously close to sunset.

  Before he could respond, Gaby came over, resting the hatchet on her shoulder.

  “Who took my magnesium stick?” she inquired, having overheard part of the conversation.

  “Beverly, she swiped it from your bag,” Lamar explained.

  “Why the hell didn’t you stop her?” Gaby exclaimed, incredulous. “She could set this whole place on
fire, and she’s crazy enough to do it!”

  “She needs the knife for that, and you put it in your pocket this morning,” Coop gently reminded her.

  Gaby shook her head.

  “I moved it to the pack after lunch because it was digging into my hip.”

  Lamar suddenly flashed back to the moment when Beverly pushed past him, with the magnesium stick in one hand and something small and reflective in the other. He had a sickening feeling he now knew what it was.

  “She took both!” he shouted as he made a mad dash for the woods north of camp. Gaby dropped the hatchet and ran after him, with Coop following closely behind. In his panic, Lamar completely forgot about the food bag he’d been keeping such a close eye on.

  Ken peeked out from the wigwam with a self-satisfied smirk. Once again, Beverly had delivered. He found her methods unorthodox and borderline obnoxious — who fakes crazy as a distraction? — but he couldn’t deny the results.

  He sidled up to Lamar’s unattended food bag and rolled up his sleeves. While the others were away, he would play.

  * * * * * *

  Gaby took point, with Lamar on her left and Coop to her right, both of them several steps behind and a few feet to either side, as they stalked through the desiccated forest north of camp. Lamar couldn’t help but remember walking this same path through billowing clouds of steam earlier this morning.

  Everyone kept an anxious eye on the sun, which was rapidly merging with the horizon, losing its potency as it did so. In another 30 to 40 minutes, it would be completely dark.

  “So, the Three Mouseketeers go hunting for Beverly … again,” Coop said to make conversation.

  Lamar smiled warmly at the memory. It was hard to imagine that was only three days ago. So much had happened since then that it seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “Too bad one of us turned out to be Cardinal Richelieu,” Gaby said through pursed lips as she stalked forward, her eyes scanning the region for any sign of Beverly.