The Truth Circle

by Cameron Ayers

  After several more passes of the flashlight’s beam along the outer ring of the structure and the rafters, Ken lowered the light, satisfied that they’d driven back the iku.

  “I think that’s the last of them,” he said wearily.

  “Coop, are you hurt?” Gaby asked.

  He poked his head out from the inner folds of his sleeping bag.

  “Are they gone?”

  “Coop? Did they touch you?” Gaby demanded, louder this time.

  “No, no,” he replied as he slowly climbed out of his bag. “Just startled me, is all.” He held up his hands as proof. Neither one showed any signs of the ikus’ touch.

  “What happened?” Lamar asked, still a bit disoriented.

  Ken looked from Lamar to Beverly and back again.

  “Whose shift was it?” he demanded.

  Beverly jabbed an accusatory finger at Lamar.

  Lamar checked his watch before pointing at Beverly.

  Gaby quickly rounded on the young man as well.

  “Did you fall asleep on us, Lamar?” she asked, her voice thick with suspicion.

  “Maybe just for a moment, but …” Lamar started to explain, before Ken cut him off.

  “Then you know damn well what happened,” Ken shot back, turning livid at a truly frightening speed.

  “But, but …” Lamar stammered, unable to come up with a suitable explanation.

  “We all could have died!” Gaby scolded.

  “I didn’t do it on purpose!” Lamar feebly protested.

  Ken stood up and walked slowly toward Lamar, leaning forward to keep from clipping his head on the pulley system in the rafters. His eyes flashed menacingly, and a guttural growl in the back of his throat announced to the world that he had lost control once more. Guttural Ken was back, and he meant business.

  “You let those things in here, you stupid son of a bitch!” guttural Ken roared, his voice drowning out the incessant chirping in the background. He cracked his knuckles aggressively as he strode forward.

  Lamar took a step back. He looked to the others for aid, but none of them made a move. He looked around for his spear. He found it lying on his bedroll, which was on the other side of the teepee. He lashed out at Ken with the only weapon he had left.

  “If you lay a hand on me, I’ll tell the others all about the Series 7,” he quietly threatened.

  Guttural Ken stopped in his tracks. He paused just long enough for Lamar to think it had worked. Ken’s knitted eyebrows slowly unfurled, and the downturned corners of his mouth slowly rose to form a grim smile.

  “Fine,” guttural Ken responded before turning to face the others. “Everyone, I have an announcement: I’m not a CEO, and I’m not a stockbroker. Lamar found out and has been holding it over my head since yesterday. He apparently thinks that exaggerating my professional accomplishments shields him from responsibility for nearly getting all of us killed.”

  Guttural Ken’s admission yielded no more than a couple of raised eyebrows. As the others listened, their surprise at his confession slowly turned into contempt for Lamar. Even Coop looked disappointed in him.

  “Satisfied?” guttural Ken asked before moving aggressively toward Lamar once more. “Because now I’m free to wring your … useless … fat … fucking … neck!”

  He lunged at Lamar and tackled him to the ground, upsetting the rest of the log pile and sending the younger man sprawling. The wigwam was spinning and Lamar tasted blood. He dimly heard Gaby shout something like “No violence!” before his eyes focused on guttural Ken looming over him. Gone was the smirk of a bully showing the class reject where he stood in the pecking order, replaced with the bloodthirsty impulse of a predator that’s cornered its next meal.

  Guttural Ken stood over Lamar’s prone form before dropping to his knees on top of him, rearing back and pummeling him in the face repeatedly. It wasn’t until the sixth blow that Coop and Gaby managed to pry him off Lamar, who came up dazed and blood splattered. The skin around his swollen right eye looked like hamburger, and he was already sporting an impressive shiner on his left cheek.

  “Hurting him won’t accomplish anything!” Coop insisted as he struggled to hold Ken back, tugging on the hood of Ken’s Patagonia jacket with such force that it split at the seam.

  “It’ll sure make me feel better!” Ken fumed, getting in one final kick before Gaby stepped between them. Ken was slowly coming to his senses now that his guttural persona had exacted retribution. He resisted less and less as Coop pulled him away from Lamar and over to the other side of the fire, where after much coaxing, Coop convinced him to sit.

  Lamar rose unsteadily and tested the rapidly forming shiner on his jaw. He flinched at the pain before slinking off to his sleeping bag without another word. No one came to check on how he was doing, he noted with a twinge of self-pity. Gaby, Coop and Beverly avoided eye contact with him, as though embarrassed to be near him. But Ken’s eyes bored right through him, glaring at him from across the teepee like they were mortal enemies.

  “So, whose shift is it now?” Coop asked drily.

  “Like any of us could sleep now,” Beverly replied.

  “It’ll be dawn soon,” Gaby said wistfully, casting her eyes skyward, waiting for the pitch blackness overhead to slowly regain its coloration.

  The iku outside seemed oblivious to the row, chirping impatiently as they swarmed along the exterior, desperate to get at the people inside.

  As the minutes slowly ticked by, everyone retreated to their own little corners of the wigwam, keeping to their own devices as they waited for dawn. Coop stared at his faded picture of Johnny, as he had night after night, the anguish in his face visible in the firelight. Lamar brooded as he poked at the ground with his spear, imagining it was Ken’s face. Gaby stared into the fire, her brow furrowed with worry. On the other side of the fire, Beverly fidgeted with nervous energy. Beside her, Ken was tracing lines in the dirt with a small switch.

  Coop stood up to dump the last of the wood on the fire. All of them watched as it went up and secretly wondered what would happen if it burned out before dawn arrived.

  Fortunately, small streaks of pink and purple had begun to appear in the sky overhead. The sounds of the iku gradually tapered off. After another 15 minutes, it was clear to all that one by one, the iku were retreating. By the time Lamar’s watch read 6:18 a.m. and the sky was painted battleship gray, only the most determined and voracious iku could be heard outside, their chirps barely registering. The contrast with the painfully loud chirping of thousands of them not 30 minutes ago was breathtaking.

  As the clouds overhead slowly became distinguishable from the sky, Ken stopped drawing in the dirt and tapped the ground to get Beverly’s attention. She looked down at his scratchings and saw that Ken had written two words: “Phase 3.”

  Beverly looked around nervously. All the others were still lost in their own little worlds. She shook her head no as subtly as she could manage. Ken’s expression quickly turned dark. He pointed to the message again. Beverly ran her right foot over the words, smearing them. She could feel his malevolence growing.

  Ken hastily scrawled a new message, then tapped the ground impatiently with the switch.

  “Do it,” the message commanded. “Or else.”

  Beverly reluctantly met his eyes once again. He was positively radiating aggression. He lifted the switch to eye level, pressed it between his thumb and forefinger and snapped it in half. Beverly got the message, and after a moment’s hesitation, nodded pitifully. She would do his bidding.

  “Who has the food?” she asked in a quavering voice. “I’m starving.”

  “Come to think of it, none of us have eaten since lunch yesterday,” Coop said, realizing that the gnawing sensation in his belly wasn’t fear, it was hunger pangs. He looked around the wigwam and saw similar reactions in the others’ faces.

  “Well, we’ll be able to eat soon enough,” Lamar replied quietly, slurring his words slightly through his blood-swollen lower lip. “On
ce those things are gone, we can get the food bag back.”

  “What are you talking about?” Gaby asked with barely disguised contempt. “It’s right behind you. I brought it inside after you went looking for Coop.”

  Lamar turned around and found his pack lying on top of the pile of discarded junk salvaged from the former shed. He had been so caught up in everything else that night that he never even noticed it. This was the first genuinely nice surprise he’d had in days.

  “Let’s dig in,” Coop declared, salivating.

  “Go easy,” Lamar cautioned as he walked over to the pile. “There isn’t much left.”

  Lamar hoisted the bag. It seemed strangely light. He peered inside. His expression changed from delighted, to confused, to horrified, all in the space of a few seconds.

  “No, no, no, no, no!” Lamar cried out as he examined the bag. “This can’t be happening!”

  “I take it you ‘miscounted’ again?” Ken asked with a sneer.

  “Lamar, what’s wrong?” Coop asked, growing concerned.

  Lamar turned to face the others, his mouth agape in astonishment.

  “The food, it’s … gone,” he said, mystified.

  “How much is gone?” Gaby pressed.

  Lamar swallowed hard before holding up the bag for everyone to see. All that remained were two empty cans of soup and some leftover crumbs from the trail mix.

  “All of it.”

  Thursday

  The first rays of the sun were peeking over the eastern slopes, and the last of the iku had abandoned their siege when Gaby opened the door to the wigwam. She was glad to be free of its canvas constraints, even if it meant having to bundle up against the bitter chill in the morning air.

  The overhead clouds’ steel gray complexion perfectly matched the steaming ash piles covering every square inch of the campsite, with some of the piles nearly a foot deep. Just as disturbing was the sight of the wigwam coated in soot so completely that the fake animal skins decorating the exterior weren’t even visible beneath their mottled covering, save for a few hairs poking out. Every surface of the pine tree looming over the teepee was likewise coated in ash, as far up as they could see.

  But right now, all of these were ephemeral considerations. The group had more pressing concerns at the moment.

  “I want an explanation,” Beverly demanded as she exited the wigwam behind Gaby. “And it had better be a good one!”

  “Don’t say that like it’s my fault,” Lamar retorted, incensed as he ducked his head to fit through the teepee’s narrow door. “Somebody obviously stole the food.”

  “Yeah, somebody,” Ken sneered contemptuously.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Lamar shot back.

  Ken balled his fists, and anger flickered in his eyes once more. Guttural Ken was about to make an encore appearance. Lamar didn’t cower from him as he had last night; if anything, his indignation showed he was itching for a chance to redeem his masculinity, which was every bit as bruised and bloody as his face this morning. He glared at Ken through his one good eye.

  Coop, who exited the wigwam last, immediately sized up the situation and stepped between the two of them, hoping to de-escalate things.

  “Hang on,” he said, pausing to look at each of them in turn. “Let’s figure out what happened before we start assigning blame. Lamar, how much food was left when you last looked?”

  “Six cans,” Lamar responded, his eyes still boring into Ken. “After lunch yesterday, we had two cans of lima beans and four cans of soup.”

  On the other side of Coop, Ken paced back and forth restlessly, like a lion waiting for the right moment to strike.

  “Have you had the food bag with you the entire time since then?” Coop asked.

  Lamar seemed surprised by the question, and his focus on Ken faltered.

  “What? I guess so … I don’t know,” Lamar stammered, so flustered by the probing questions and Ken’s insinuations that he completely forgot that he’d left it unattended when they went searching for Beverly at dusk.

  “Why are you so eager to pin this on me?” Lamar demanded.

  “He’s not blaming you … yet,” Gaby said, joining the inquisition. “But you are in charge of the food, Lamar.”

  “That … that was a promise to keep track of the food, not guard it like it was Fort Knox,” Lamar snapped, his face growing flush. “It was to stop Ken from taking extra helpings, remember?”

  “If there’s anyone here with a reputation for stealing, it’s you,” Ken replied darkly. “Gaby’s bra and the canteen didn’t crawl into your bag on their own.”

  “Hey! I told you I had nothing to do with that!” Lamar responded hotly.

  Everywhere Lamar looked, he was met with suspicious stares. He was beginning to feel like he was surrounded by enemies. Even Beverly, who had been deeply withdrawn since her breakdown, stole questioning glances at him as she shivered in the cold.

  “You can’t really think he ate all the food he was supposed to guard,” Coop said, finally speaking up for Lamar. “That doesn’t make sense. Once the food ran out, he’d be busted.”

  “Stomachs don’t obey logic. They just need,” Beverly noted.

  “And Lamar has the biggest stomach here,” Ken added snidely.

  Instead of addressing Ken’s insinuations directly, Lamar turned to the others for validation.

  “You see what he’s doing here, right? This is a setup,” Lamar insisted. “He wants to turn everyone against me, so he swiped the food. He probably planted that stuff in my bag yesterday, too.”

  Gaby face-palmed in disgust, while Coop looked away, embarrassed for his friend.

  “You just said you’ve had the food bag with you the entire time, smart guy,” Ken pointed out with a sinister grin. “So, how’d I take it or put that other stuff in there, huh?”

  “I wasn’t watching it the whole time!” Lamar erupted. “Maybe Ken took it while we were fighting the iku last night.”

  Gaby shook her head slowly.

  “He was beside me the whole time,” she said, her disgust with Lamar evident in her face. “First, using the bow drill, and then when I took over, he was holding the flashlight.”

  “Then maybe he took it while everyone was asleep!” Lamar shouted, throwing up his hands in frustration.

  “You mean, when you were supposed to be keeping guard?” Ken needled him, not even attempting to hide his enjoyment.

  Lamar glowered but held his tongue.

  “It seems pretty clear that Ken didn’t take the food,” Coop said. “So, who did?”

  “You already know who I suspect,” Ken said. “I put it to you all: Has anyone actually seen Lamar count out the food? Or have we all just been trusting his math … and honesty?”

  A quick scan of the others’ faces showed that none of them had seen him do so. They’d just accepted whatever he’d told them when he was doling out portions.

  “And would any of you say he’s lost weight while we’ve been out here?” Ken asked cuttingly.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Gaby said, holding up her hand. “I think you’ve made your point.”

  “Someone here has to know something,” Ken continued, looking at each of them in turn, with his eyes lingering on Beverly. “All of us living so close together, one of you must have seen something off.”

  Coop noted the odd intonation in Ken’s voice, almost like he was coaxing them into making an accusation. Beverly also picked up on it, and more importantly, the meaning behind it. Even in her weakened, sleep-deprived state, she recognized the signal. Time to complete Phase 3.

  Gaby shook her head.

  “I’m sure if anyone had they would have …” she started, before Beverly interrupted.

  “I did,” Beverly said quietly as she stood over one of the steaming ash piles for warmth. The rising curtain of steam obscured and distorted her features, making her look mysterious and a little creepy. “Lamar, I’m sorry, but after what you just said, I couldn’t stay q
uiet.”

  “Huh?” Lamar asked in bewilderment.

  “When we were building the fence a couple of days ago, I took a break to ... you know, ” Beverly started awkwardly, trying to tap dance around her bout with the bottle.

  “Take a drink?” Gaby offered.

  Beverly reddened, still embarrassed that they knew about her addiction.

  “And when I get there, I find Lamar hiding behind a tree, inhaling a bag of trail mix,” she continued.

  The others looked disapprovingly at Lamar.

  “What the hell?” he exclaimed indignantly. “She’s lying!”

  “I remember him wiping his hands on his shirt, like he does after meals,” Beverly said, continuing as though she hadn’t heard his emphatic denials. “He asked me not to tell, so I assumed it was a one-time thing.”

  “This never happened! She is making all of this shit up!” Lamar shouted, his eyes bulging in disbelief.

  “Why would she lie?” Gaby asked. Her tone made it clear she believed Beverly over Lamar.

  “I felt bad for him,” Beverly continued. “He’s so big, so I didn’t say anything.”

  “Shut up! Stop lying!” Lamar screamed at her. He was so enraged that Gaby was afraid he might even attack her, so she inserted herself between them to protect Beverly. Her action shocked Lamar out of his righteous fury, and as he scanned the others’ faces, he realized his outbursts were only convincing them of his guilt. He took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down.

  “Folks, this is some half-baked scheme that she and Ken came up with,” he said. “I heard them conspiring against me yesterday. It’s all a power play.”

  “Paranoid much?” Ken replied cuttingly, with a nasty grin. Lamar winced, knowing that he was simply feeding Ken’s false narrative.

  Ken then turned to the others.

  “There’s a simple way to determine which of them is lying,” he said. “Beverly, you said he wiped the trail mix off on his shirt, right? So that means the residue should still be there. Which shirt was he wearing?”