Except it was already made. Possibly he'd made it when he'd first hidden Billy's jacket. He was not going to leave her like this. He smoothed the blankets on top of him, it seemed that if he pushed hard enough he could break through his own skin like a drum. He had done this to himself, let the dark times catch up. It was an old feeling. The last time it had come was on a hunting trip in Wyoming, lost and trapped two nights in a snowcave, out of food and the snow kept collapsing on him. He knew he would die, there was no question about it, he had earned it, gone out with weather coming in, known it might turn bad and walked out into it anyway, he had flown all the way out to Wyoming and had not wanted to waste his big trip.
It was no different than this. He'd walked into it. At dawn the third morning he'd left the cave and started to walk, set out postholing through the snow, too weak to carry his rifle or daypack, and ten hours later, in the last few minutes of daylight, he'd found a road. He had never told a soul what happened, not Grace, not Ho, not his doctor, he'd checked into a motel and caught his flight the next day. A piece of him had stayed out there. This will make sense also, he told himself. This is the only thing you can give her.
He started to pull the covers up but he made himself stand and walk around the room. Maybe he had always known it. He stood by the window and waited to see what he would say.
“Come back to bed.” She patted the place next to her.
“I will.” Out the window there was a faint light, a few stars, he was looking for something but he didn't know what.
“I'll be alright, it's just that it all hit me today. I promise I'll be better. Just come back a minute.”
Later that night he opened his eyes and realized he hadn't really been sleeping. It would be no different than anything else he'd done before, getting rid of a bad element. A talking to. There wasn't any point in thinking about it. It had always been Billy over everyone else, there were people who lived for their children and she was one of them. She would be a different person otherwise. Plenty of other people didn't, it was good there were people like her in the world. It was lucky he knew one of those people.
“What did you say?” she whispered.
“I'll take care of Billy. I'll make sure nothing happens to him.”
They looked at each other for a long time across the dark. She doesn't know, he thought. She doesn't know what this is going to mean.
“Just in case, it's better if you don't say a word about this to anyone. Not a word.”
He could see that her eyes got wet but she wiped them and that was all.
“I'm a bad person,” she said. “Aren't I?”
He reached and stroked the hair from her face. “You're his mother.”
12. Isaac
He slept in the undergrowth at the edge of a field and was awakened by the sound of an approaching truck, its headlights bearing down on him. Get up, he thought, here they come. He tried to remember where he was, and where he was going to run, and the noise got louder and the headlights swept to a different part of the woods and Isaac jumped to his feet.
It was a green farm tractor. Isaac sat down again and the farmer shot past, not noticing him, a large John Deere planter trailing a plume of bright yellow seeds. Christ these early risers. His blood was rushing and part of him wished he was still asleep but he couldn't help grinning. The old man's driving that thing like a racecar. Except very straight rows. He stayed where he was and watched the farmer work and then watched the sun come up over the long flat field before collecting himself and slipping the back way out of the hedgerow. There was a road on the other side.
The land was very flat, mostly agricultural. A few scattered housing developments, but mostly broad rectangles of tilled soil, separated by narrow treelines or old fences. Everything in neat grids. Stick to the roads. Planting time, don't get caught trespassing. Course you might get a meal out of it. Or at least a drink of water out of someone's hose.
Around noon he came to a large river that stretched on forever in three directions, as far as he could see. Or it might be Lake Erie. That would be close to here. Wonder if it's safe, just to wet the mouth. No don't try it. End up even worse off. To his left there were houses along the water, a large gated community, to his right, farther away, was a small marina, just open land beyond it. He made his way toward the marina. As he approached he saw an overflowing trashcan by the gate.
Will you? But there was no question. He looked around for witnesses, then picked through the trash as quickly as possible. There was uneaten and unspoiled food, he could smell it intensely, more strongly even than the rot of the trashcan. No he thought I'm not there yet. He dug through paper bags of fast food, wine bottles, empty beer cans, water bottles. That one is heavy. Nearly full. Water or something else? Make sure it isn't someone's piss. He was up to his shoulders in the trashcan and he retrieved the bottle and held it up to the light. Clear and cold. Hope they didn't have anything. Better than lake water—share with one stranger instead of a few million. He drank half the bottle, which had a faint taste of cigarettes, then capped it and put it into his pocket. There you go. Feel better already. Hope no one saw.
He continued to walk, following the contour of the shoreline. There was a nuclear plant in the distance, the tall cooling towers by the lake. Where are you headed? I don't know. Just walking now. What is Poe doing? Probably not eating out of trashcans. Probably taking a nap. Drunk and asleep in his hammock. Except that is not the only possibility. There is still a dead body they found and his coat. He will not be able to get away from that.
When do I stop being the same person? In other people's minds or your own? Mine, he thought. I don't know. Something's wrong, you're getting farther from the lake—on some sort of tributary. Keep following this and it'll get you all turned around. Pick a direction and stick to it. Alright, west. But he knew that it didn't matter. There was nowhere he was going, and no one waiting for him, and it no longer mattered where he'd been.
— — —
A few hours later he passed under an interstate and the land became more open, woods and fields. He allowed himself one small swallow from the water bottle every so often. Sooner or later you'll come on something else. Bucket of fried chicken. Steak and eggs. The road dead-ended in a patch of woods so he went into the woods. Still going west. This makes no sense. It doesn't make sense to be here and it doesn't make sense to be on the road. Just keep walking.
It was alternately a forest, the edges wide enough so he could not see the end of the trees, and a narrower boundary between farmland. By late in the afternoon he was getting the sensation of being followed. Stupid to come here, you are not going to be able to find anything to eat. The ground was wet and riddled with deer tracks. His pulse was beginning to speed up. Paranoid is all. Ignore it or you'll go crazy. Mental health your only health. He continued to walk but the feeling didn't abate. When he got to a natural choke point in the trail he crouched down behind a rock outcropping and waited.
Three dogs soon appeared, strays, trotting quickly along the path, and then the lead dog stopped suddenly to sniff the air. The dogs were thin and filthy, missing patches of fur, mixtures of various farm dogs— border collies, shepherds, it was impossible to tell.
A shiver passed through him as he watched. A fourth dog soon caught up to the others, and as he got Isaac's scent he stiffened and turned toward the rocks where Isaac was hiding. Can they see you? Probably not. But that is not a friendly interest. He glanced around him and found several large rocks. You moved—now they see you. The lead dog started forward, hesitantly and slightly crouched, ears back, and Isaac stood up and hit it in the chest with a rock. He had not thrown the rock very hard and the dog only skittered slightly before resuming its approach. The second rock Isaac threw much harder, clipping the dog in the nose, and then hit it a third time as it bolted and ran. The other dogs looked unsure until the rocks began raining down on them as well. He continued to pelt them as they ran.
Was that cruel? Don't know. Get going,
he thought. Cross that field and find a road. Sorry, pooches. Except they knew you had nothing to eat. They weren't coming looking for a handout—they were testing. Strays worse than coyotes—less fear of people. Reason farmers shoot them. Still.
Near sundown he stopped to rest under a wooden bridge. The sun was large in the sky and low over the fields and lines of trees. Pretty. He took a sip of water but the bottle was nearly empty and his stomach ached from hunger. If you had more water you'd be fine. Should have kept looking in that trashcan, found a second bottle. No you should have gone along that interstate. Need to stay near food and people. This was stupid.
I am trying to get away from people, he thought. He felt tears of frustration coming to his face. Need to get back to that interstate. Probably five or six miles. Get up. Soon as it's dark you won't be able to navigate. There's a state highway back there somewhere. That will intersect the interstate at some point.
By dark he'd reached the state highway trekking across the fields. His feet felt heavy with mud, he'd been making slow progress. Far enough, he thought. This is far enough for today. If I see a stream I'll drink out of it. How long did I walk? Twenty miles? Your headache is dehydration. Won't kill you. Need a meal and a bed, another sip of water. Save the rest for later. An ounce or two left. Pines over there—should be soft underneath.
In the far distance he could hear dogs barking. Need a good stick. No, need a sleeping bag. Cold coming up through the ground. Let me sleep. When he closed his eyes he could see the figures standing around the fire but when he opened his eyes the figures were still there, up in the trees. The Swede smiling, his face lit orange from the fire and all the shadows behind him. Poe was standing next to the Swede. Tired people hallucinate, he thought. So do hungry people. Just let me sleep.
No, tomorrow you will have to do something. Steal again, probably. Fine. Nature of nature, take what it needs. Feed off others. Like old Otto—down for good, a dirt sack. Scarecrow bones. Wonder where he is now. Any family to claim him. Empty as any other dead thing only he's a man, name and a story, child of two others, a girl who loved him. Human nature to come in for the dead ones and the weak ones. Animal nature the opposite. Comes out when you're alone. Your higher values lose their color.
His mouth was dry. Get up you can find a faucet at one of those barns, a garden hose or something. Do it now while it's dark. Think—if your mother could see you. Stake through her broken heart. The family disease, her quiet moments. Lee didn't catch it. Old man thinks you did, but he doesn't know better. Wanted a different kind of family, himself at the head of the table.
How long ago was that? A month. Feels like a year. That was when you decided to leave, seems pointless now. Sitting with him out back, wearing your coats and grilling, listening to the radio—spring training highlights. Reds over the Pirates. Zach Duke, he said. Get him up to the majors—that's the guy who's gonna bring us out of this slump. What did you say back to him? Can't remember. You wonder what it'd be like to be someone like that. A guy who's gonna matter, basically. He looked at you. You know what I mean? Then he goes on: Course, for a person your size, you always had a hell of an arm.
Isaac looked up at the dark sky, then rolled onto his side and curled up for warmth. Was that what started all this? Of course not—-just another on the pile. It could have been something else, anything—this whole time you were staying to get his approval. Admit that. It was not out of charity that you were staying. You were staying to get him to realize things about you. Meanwhile you only made it worse. One day he thanks you for dinner, the next he says how you've been living off his pension. Testing you. Same as he did to Mom. Neither one of you ever pushed back. She must have known she made a mistake. Wasn't sure how to get out of it. Tried to bear up but couldn't. Finally made a choice.
She was not a saint herself. Decided her duty was done once Lee got into Yale, same as him. Time to check out. Except you don't know that, anything could have happened. No note, spur of the moment. You look off a high bridge and get a strange feeling. You don't know what happened.
— — —
He woke up several times during the night, it was very cold and finally he was so cold and stiff he couldn't fall back asleep. Start walking or you'll freeze. He took another sip from the water bottle, stumbled to his feet and dusted himself off, then began to walk again, half conscious, toward the sound of the freeway, until the sun was up and he knew he didn't need to move any longer to stay warm.
An hour or it might have been three hours after reaching the interstate he found a McDonald's, where he got three egg sandwiches off the dollar menu and drank several cups of water for his headache before refilling his water bottle. People were alternately staring at him and trying to pretend he wasn't there. With tax he had two dollars and eighty cents left. The third egg sandwich he wrapped carefully in a white bag and put in his big coat pocket. He used the washroom to clean up. His clothes were getting wrinkled and filthy again, but nothing like before. He wondered if people were really watching him. Something about your face, he thought. Not just the bruises.
Walking again he stayed parallel to the highway, on the private property side of the fenceline so no cops would pull over. Need to find a train, he thought. Now I can think again. Get a train and get south so I don't freeze. Why, he thought. Where are you going? Someplace warm, I don't know.
I'm fine. Adjusting. Need to scrounge a little today. You mean like rob something? I don't know. Still feel hungry somehow. Need to ration, though. Two dollars and change left—have to eat tomorrow as well. And every day after. Save the other sandwich. I will eat half tonight, he thought.
He continued to parallel the interstate, making slow progress because of all the fences he needed to cross, all the brush, taking his time, staying out of sight. Then there was an open area ahead of him, a rest-stop with a bathroom and cars pulling in and out, he refilled his water bottle and drank for a long time from the fountain. He sat outside the main building, resting at one of the picnic tables. Soon enough a Camry pulled up directly in front of him and a man got out and jogged quickly toward the bathrooms. Isaac stood up and walked past the car, the man's wallet was sitting in front of the gearshift, the doors were plainly unlocked, it was fifty yards to the treeline.
He stood for a half minute with his back to the car, then walked away from it, continued walking, out of the reststop. That was stupid, he thought. You won't have that luxury again. No, I am not going to do that to someone. Yes you will. That or you will starve. I don't have to eat today he thought. I still have money.
— — —
Even as the sun went down he could feel the temperature dropping quickly so he spent an hour collecting brush, laying piles of branches against a downed log, leaving a small space underneath, then piling old leaves and pine branches and anything else he could to add on top until the pile was several feet high. There was barely enough space to wriggle in. Tight but very warm. Blanket of leaves. Badge of honor.
He must have fallen asleep because he woke up in the pitch black with a sense that he'd been buried alive and started to knock apart the shelter before he looked out the end of it and remembered where he was. There was moonlight on the leaves and an animal moving outside, long legs, a deer. Step step step. Step. It jumped when it got his scent, cracking branches as it fled. He closed his eyes again. His mother was walking in the sunlight down the driveway, the light on her dark hair, by then streaked with gray, her head was up and she was smiling about something. Then he could no longer see her face. They were with his father in the hospital, climb on up, he said, and Isaac was boosted up onto the bed, his father's face was swollen from burns, nearly hairless, and he stroked Isaac's head. My young man, he said. How's my son? Looked nothing like your father. Not even the eyes. Hospital mix- up. Hamlet story, replaced by another man. Beginning of the end, that was then. When he got laid off it was one thing and when that happened it was another. Wore everyone down—you're the only one who stayed. Remember wishing Mom would ha
ve an affair, leave him. But of course you couldn't leave him yourself.
Your one time visiting Lee, she was so happy to see you, she could not stop kissing you. God it is so good to see you. Quit it or they'll think it's incest, you told her. She shrugged and mouthed the banjo sound from Deliverance. You're going to be here soon. The tall stone towers, the buildings like castles. Don't worry about Dad, she said.
Expected everyone to be superior but they didn't act it. It's beautiful where you come from, isn't it? I guess. Not like here, though. People thought that was funny: you mean not like New Haven? No, he's right. It is beautiful here, we all take it for granted. That was the physics major, boyfriend of the moment.
I am burying these things, he thought. I am never going to think about them again.
— — —
In the morning he kicked the shelter apart and dug a hole for his scat and kicked dirt over it when he was finished. Erase your traces. Still have that last sandwich. He walked a little until he could see the interstate and the cars rushing on it and the sun was on him. Then he ate his last bit of food and drank the rest of his water.
He continued the same way along the interstate. No idea where you are. Up in Michigan. What would Poe do if he were here? No idea. Make a bow and arrow or something. Don't need it. Wonder what's happened with Otto the Swede. Can't guess. No point. Sooner or later I'll cross some tracks. Need to get some money first or something to eat. Find a reststop and wait long enough, something will turn up. Except I don't want to do that. As you prefer. Starve then. There's an overpass, take a survey.
From the overpass he could see far down the highway, how flat the land was, the cars and trucks rushing underneath, the noise deafening. The sun bright you tore your new pants. Wonder when. Thorns and all that barbed wire fencing. Lucky you don't have lockjaw. Don't lean too far over that rail now. Feel the air pushing up at you. You could float, just for a second. Kinetic energy of a Mack truck: one- half mass energy squared. Eighty thousand pounds times eighty miles per hour square it over two. Except you need feet per second. Alright a hundred fifteen, then. Five hundred twenty- nine million foot- pounds. Your weight, one hundred ten pounds. Would not slow the truck. No, technically I would. Just not enough to notice.
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