The Truth Circle

by Cameron Ayers

  Beverly paused for several seconds as though she were struggling to remember.

  “The gray one with the funny face in the center,” she replied with a shiver. “Like a university logo.”

  Ken held up his hands like he were inviting the others to bask in the magnificence of his deductive reasoning.

  “So, somebody go get the shirt,” he said. “Actually, make it two people, so Fatty Carbuncle here can’t claim that we’re framing him or anything. You cool with that, Fatty?”

  The two stared each other down for several long, drawn-out seconds.

  Ken had to have something up his sleeve, but Lamar hadn’t the faintest idea what. And accusing Ken of shenanigans without proof again would only make him look guiltier. He had no choice but to play this out and hope Ken had made a mistake.

  “Fine,” Lamar said with an air of resignation that caused more than one set of eyebrows to arch. “Gaby, you’ll find it in Coop’s bag. He was carrying my clothes for me, since I had the food.”

  Ken nodded to Beverly, who shadowed Gaby as she walked to the wigwam. If he was thrown to learn that Lamar’s clothes were in somebody else’s bag, he didn’t show it.

  The men stood silently in a loose semicircle, waiting for the evidence, unsure what to say or do in the meantime. Lamar stared at his feet and racked his brains trying to work out what Ken had devised. Could he really have gotten to the food bag and Coop’s bag, both on the same night? It didn’t seem possible. He stole a quick glance at Ken, who was eyeballing him. The smirk on Ken’s face had reached epic proportions. If his cockiness was anything to go by, Lamar could be in serious trouble.

  Coop stood off to the side, his eyes fixated on the entrance to the wigwam, like a lawyer waiting expectantly for the jury to return its verdict. But the stakes here were almost certainly higher.

  Seconds dragged into minutes. The wait was agony.

  Just as Coop was about to go in to check on Gaby and Beverly, the two exited the wigwam. Gaby was holding Lamar’s gray shirt. Their expressions were stony and unreadable.

  They stopped just shy of the others.

  “Well?” Lamar asked impatiently.

  Gaby hesitated.

  “Lamar …”

  “Just show us!” he snapped.

  Gaby held up the shirt.

  The right breast of the shirt had a light coating of grease on it, probably from when Lamar wiped his hands on his shirt after the fish dinner on their first night here. Several inches to the right was a smear of dried yellowish gunk; probably chicken corn chowder. And down the center, partially obscuring the troll face in the shirt’s logo, was a deep brown smear that was unmistakably chocolate, just like in the trail mix. A half-dozen specks of salt — probably from the pretzels in the trail mix — decorated the chocolate stain.

  Lamar stared at the shirt in utter disbelief, continually blinking, as though each blink would somehow erase what he was seeing. He felt like reality was melting around him. As he looked at the disapproval and disgust in his companions’ faces, he could hear a ringing in his ears, and felt his heart jackhammering beneath his bubble jacket. As he looked over at Ken, the taller man mouthed the word “checkmate” before breaking into the most sadistic grin Lamar had ever seen.

  “This can’t be happening,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head in slack-jawed disbelief. “It’s not possible.”

  “I knew it,” Ken said triumphantly. “I’ll bet you fatass has been sneaking food for days.”

  “But this is absurd,” Lamar pleaded. “I didn’t steal anything! I don’t even like trail mix!”

  His tone said what his words didn’t: he knew he’d already lost.

  “Just give it up already,” Beverly said.

  “Those two cooked all this up … somehow,” he feebly protested. “Gaby, Coop, you have to believe me!”

  “Lamar, please stop,” Gaby said quietly. “It’s over.”

  He looked over at Coop, who turned away in embarrassment.

  “I don’t know what to believe,” Coop said softly.

  “I don’t feel comfortable with him around anymore,” Beverly said, still shivering as she hugged herself for warmth. “He eats all the food, he sleeps on watch, and he got us all hopelessly lost. Who knows what else he’s done?”

  Gaby noticed that droplets of a clear liquid were seeping through the cracks in Beverly’s blackened left hand and oozing down into her gloves. She made a mental note not to touch anything Beverly owned, for fear of being contaminated.

  “I agree,” Ken said, lending his voice to Beverly’s complaint. “I say he should go.”

  Lamar looked at Gaby and Coop helplessly.

  “This is fucking insane! Don’t you see what they’re doing? They’re trying to tear us apart!”

  Neither of them was willing to meet his gaze.

  “Let’s vote,” Ken said. “All in favor of Lamar staying?”

  Lamar’s hand shot up. After several agonizingly long seconds, Coop hesitantly raised his hand.

  “All those in favor of expelling him?”

  Beverly and Ken held up their hands. After several seconds, everyone looked over at Gaby, who was now the tiebreaker.

  Slowly, reluctantly, she raised her hand. Lamar felt the pit of his stomach drop, and covered his mouth with his hand in shock. Tears began to well up in the corners of his eyes.

  “No,” he whispered.

  “Lamar, I’m sorry. But they’re right,” she said, her voice heavy with remorse. “Because of you, we now have to spend the day foraging for food, instead of looking for a way out. I hope it was worth it.”

  “That’s 3-2,” Ken said with a smug air of finality. “I’ll give you five minutes to say your goodbyes while we gather your belongings. If you return …” he continued, but was interrupted by an anguished cry from Lamar.

  “Why are you doing this?” he shouted. “Beverly, Ken, I’ve never been anything but nice to you all.”

  “If you return …” Ken tried again, his tone sharper after being interrupted.

  “Please!” Lamar interrupted again, clasping his hands over his chest. “There has to be something I can say! Don’t leave me out here with those iku creatures!”

  Ken suddenly snapped, grabbing Lamar by his jacket lapel and throwing him to the ground. The impact knocked the wind out of Lamar. When he got his bearings and looked up, he saw Ken holding the penknife inches from his throat. The blade glinted dully in the light, making his blood run cold.

  “Because if you set foot in this camp again, I’ll carve you up and serve you for dinner!” guttural Ken bellowed mere inches from Lamar’s face. Now even interruptions triggered Ken’s change.

  Gaby made a move to intervene but Beverly held up her arm to stop her. Coop stood there like a deer in headlights, unsure what to do.

  “Do you hear me?” guttural Ken demanded.

  Lamar nodded hurriedly, terrified.

  “Say it,” guttural Ken demanded, running the blade along his thumb to illustrate his conviction. The parallels to Wade’s conduct were eerie.

  “I won’t come back,” Lamar mumbled, too scared to respond properly.

  Guttural Ken leaned forward and pressed the blade against Lamar’s face.

  “Louder!” he shouted. “Or I’ll carve the question into your forehead!”

  “I won’t come back! I swear it!” Lamar cried out, petrified.

  “Ken, that’s enough!” Gaby shouted. “You got what you wanted; now leave him alone.”

  Guttural Ken held the knife to Lamar’s forehead for several more seconds, relishing the fear it elicited, before slowly standing up and pocketing the knife. He turned to face the others and they could see that his eyes had reverted.

  “C’mon, Beverly, let’s gather his shit,” Ken said as he headed for the wigwam. After a moment’s hesitation, Beverly joined him.

  Once they’d entered the wigwam, Gaby and Coop came over to check on Lamar, who was still flat on his back.

  “Lamar,
are you all right? Did he hurt you?” Gaby asked, offering her hand to help him up.

  Lamar sat up and batted her hand away, his mind a muddle of wounded pride, righteous indignation and naked fear.

  “Don’t you dare!” he insisted as he stood up unsteadily. “You’ve done enough to help today!”

  “She was just worried about you,” Coop scolded.

  “Yeah, after she banished me!” Lamar vented. “She’s perfectly fine sending me to my death, just so long as she doesn’t have to watch!”

  “That’s not fair!” Gaby protested. “I’m not the one that stole all the food!”

  “Neither am I!” Lamar bellowed in impotent rage.

  “Gaby, you have to admit this all seems a little suspicious,” Coop ventured. “I know the evidence against him is pretty damning, but look where it’s coming from. Tell me you don’t have doubts.”

  Gaby hesitated for a moment before answering.

  “I’ve made my decision,” she said firmly. “And if you’re smart, you’ll come around. Ken isn’t likely to forget how you voted.”

  Coop stiffened. He looked from Lamar to Gaby and back again, seemingly indecisive, before turning on his heel and walking into the wigwam without another word to either of them.

  Gaby watched him leave with a pang of regret. She may have convinced Coop, but she suspected he’d never forgive her for it. Lamar had an altogether stronger reaction, watching in stunned silence as the closest thing he had to a friend in this group — and his only remaining defender — turned his back on him. Lamar shook his head sadly as he clenched his knuckles in anticipation of the grim road ahead. While he had long felt alone in the crowd, and often sought out solitude, this was his first taste of true isolation, and its bitterness was more than words could express. He had never felt lower.

  Several seconds after Coop entered the wigwam, Ken and Beverly exited it with Lamar’s rucksack and spear in tow. Ken dropped both at Lamar’s feet.

  “I’d say ‘have a nice life,’ but I doubt you can do much with it in the 10 hours you have left,” Ken sneered.

  “I’ll make for the abandoned nuclear facility,” Lamar said ruefully as he slung his bag over his shoulder and hoisted his spear. “There may be radio equipment that I can get working. John said it was about five miles south of here, so I’ll head there. Alone.”

  “No, not alone.”

  Everyone turned to see Coop exiting the teepee, his backpack slung over his shoulder and a spear in his hand. Gone was his usual happy-go-lucky grit, replaced with grim resolve. He walked past the others and stood shoulder to shoulder with a dumbfounded Lamar.

  The others stared at him in disbelief, awestruck by the magnanimity of Coop’s gesture.

  “Coop, you can’t …” Lamar began, but was quickly cut off by Gaby.

  “What are you doing?” she scolded.

  “The same thing you should be doing: standing with your friends,” he answered bluntly.

  Even Ken appeared impressed by Coop’s conviction. Instead of mocking him or stomping down his mini-insurrection, Ken appeared content to let it play out.

  “You sure?” he asked with a snort. “If you leave here with him, you can’t come back. Ever.”

  “I understand,” Coop replied. “So, I guess this is goodbye.”

  He nodded to Beverly, who was standing behind Ken.

  “Beverly, good luck. Ken, drop dead.”

  Ken’s expression grew dark, but he held his tongue.

  Coop turned to Gaby, who gave him a pained look.

  “It’s not too late to join us,” he said.

  Gaby shook her head.

  Coop drew closer and whispered so the others couldn’t hear.

  “I know you believe what you’re doing is right, but don’t let those two fool you. They’re dangerous. Watch your back.”

  “If you change your mind, you know where to find us,” Gaby said, trying to blink back the tears. “Regardless of what Ken says.”

  Coop shook his head no.

  “I may be eaten alive by … whatever those things are out there, but I won’t abandon Lamar. One for all and all for one, remember?”

  Gaby sniffled as the tears flowed down her cheeks. In lieu of a hug, Gaby raised her arm for a fist bump. Coop smiled and obliged her.

  “Good luck, Mouseketeer,” she whispered.

  Lamar patted Coop on the shoulder.

  “It’s time.”

  Coop nodded, and the two began the slow march out of camp, taking the dirt road that had brought them there five days earlier. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  The others watched as they departed, slowly ascending the southern lip of the enormous earthen bowl that defined their small sector of Quehanna.

  Gaby watched them depart with a queasy feeling in her gizzard. As they slowly grew smaller on the horizon, she started to wonder if she hadn’t made a terrible mistake.

  She forced herself to look away and faced her remaining companions. Beverly was still shivering uncontrollably, her head pressed against her neck to preserve body heat. Ken was still watching Lamar and Coop depart. Impossibly, he was chuckling.

  “Okay, that should buy us some time,” he said.

  “To do what?”

  “To not get eaten,” he replied. “We just handed those creatures two meals. Maybe that’ll keep them off us for a night.”

  Gaby glowered at him.

  “You can be a real bastard, you know that?”

  Instead of answering, Ken headed back to the wigwam.

  “Where are you going?” Gaby asked, exasperated. “We have a ton to do.”

  “Back to sleep,” he replied dismissively. “I only got a few hours last night, and there’s no reason to think tonight will be any different.”

  “Really? You don’t care about finding food, escaping, maybe looking for a safer place? We have a ton of work to do.”

  “And how do you think we’ll fare if we’re dead on our feet?” he said. “We could all use a couple more hours of sack time before we get started.”

  He paused when he noticed Beverly wasn’t following his lead. She stood stock still, shivering uncontrollably, seemingly oblivious to everything around her.

  “Beverly, you coming?”

  No reply.

  Ken clapped his hands loudly, shocking the older woman out of her stupor.

  “Rich bitch, party of one, get the lead out!”

  Beverly nodded pitifully through the shivers and started toward the teepee. Gaby worried that her shivering might be a sign of something more than the early morning chill.

  Gaby took one final, forlorn glance over her shoulder at Coop and Lamar departing before joining the others in the wigwam.

  * * * Ten Hours Until Sundown * * *

  The wind was picking up as Lamar and Coop crested the southern ridge leading deeper into the unexplored reaches of the forest. They were still following the dirt road, tracing its path as it snaked up and down a series of steadily shrinking hills before leveling out at the entrance gate. The deep indentations on either side of the entrance, where the giant totem poles once stood, were a stark reminder that nothing in this forest was what it seemed.

  Lamar whistled low as they came across a beaver carcass in the middle of the road. Like all the other animal corpses they’d seen in the blight, this one looked untouched; understandable, since all the predators were dead along with their prey. Coop used his spear tip to shove the desiccated remains out of the way as they continued their journey in this barren, forsaken land.

  Several yards past the entrance the pair spied the first fork in the road. The dirt path continued southward about 40 yards past the entrance before fading into an open field strewn with withered grasses and ankle-high ash piles, some of which were still steaming. It was the same field Ken had traversed when he had gotten lost on the group’s second day in Quehanna.

  On the other side, the road forked sharply west, wending its way around the field and gradually changing from dirt to grav
el.

  “Oh, I snuck something out of the wigwam when I was packing,” Coop said as they walked, reaching into his pack and retrieving John’s old flashlight. “Ta-da!”

  “Nice!” Lamar said appreciatively.

  “I figured it would come in handy if we ever find the research base,” Coop said. After a moment’s hesitation, he added: “Or for when it gets dark.”

  That observation cast a pall over things, and the conversation abruptly ceased. Lamar bit his lip nervously as they walked, thinking of the myriad hurdles they had to clear before nightfall. A distant rumble in the gray skies overhead alerted them to yet another potential problem.

  As they reached the fork in the road, Coop started down the dirt path left, while Lamar turned right.

  “Aren’t we going south?” Coop said as he paused mid-step.

  “No,” Lamar answered as he leaned on his spear like a walking stick. “We’re headed for the lake. Ken said the nearest bank was on the southwestern edge of the floodplain, so if we follow the edge of the floodplain we should eventually find it.”

  “I thought you said we were going to the base, the one with the nuclear planes.”

  “We are.”

  Coop looked monumentally confused.

  “But John said it was five miles south of camp.”

  Lamar wrestled with how to explain his thought process.

  “John was giving us a general idea of where it was, not precise directions,” Lamar said. “It could be south or it could be southeast. It could be four miles or six miles. We don’t know exactly where it is, so if we just wander south and hope for the best, we might never find it, agreed?”

  “With you so far.”

  “But we do know where the lake is,” Lamar continued. “Ken told us all about it. So, if we follow its shoreline south, it’ll eventually lead us right to the research base.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “The base has to be beside the lake,” Lamar explained patiently. “It’s the largest body of water out here.”

  Coop ran a hand over his reddish curls, imitating a jet whizzing by.

  “Whoosh! You went straight over my head.”