by David Haynes
“I have to clean up,” he said.
Lisa squeezed him tighter. “Not yet, just sit a while.”
“And look at that?” He shifted again but she held him fast.
“I need to look at you for a while,” she said. In the flickering light of the kerosene lamps, tears cut burning tracts through the blood on her cheeks. “I need to see you, you and nothing else. Nothing exists beyond us now. Please, Jonesy.”
He pulled her toward his chest and held her tight. He closed his eyes but the nightmare played over and over in his mind. The ax falling...
*
Jonesy made a fire on the edge of the forest and doused the wood with two thirds of their kerosene supply. It didn’t matter that they would have to spend half of the winter in the lambent glow of the fire rather than the lamps. Lisa was scrubbing the cabin again, going over it inch by inch, wiping any trace of blood. But it was there, it would always be there and you didn’t need to look too far to find it. You just closed your eyes and the world turned red.
Both tarps were folded but one had a bump inside. He threw that one on first, waited for the flames to start doing their work and then threw the other one in. He walked back to the cabin before the black smoke drifted his way.
Four days had passed since the amputation. It had taken him that long to touch the tarps again. He’d left them outside, away from the cabin, hoping that the blood would attract something…the bear, wolves, whatever, it didn’t matter, he just wanted them gone. But the snow had fallen and buried them deep under a protective barrier. None of the predators had come, perhaps put off by the diseased blood. But he couldn’t leave them for the thaw, when the congealed blood would slough from the material like jelly. They had to go sooner rather than later. And now they burned. And Lisa cleaned again.
He opened the cabin door and walked inside. It no longer felt like a home; he knew Lisa felt the same. Neither of them had to voice that opinion.
“Hey,” he said, smiling.
She was kneeling on the floor beside the couch, a wiry brush in her hands and a bucket of hot water at the ready. She looked up, also smiling. “Hey. Done?”
He nodded and poured a coffee. “How is he?”
“Same. I’ve loaded him with antibiotics and pain relief. He wakes up every hour or so screaming, trying to get up and then he just collapses again.”
“Probably for the best.” He looked at the cloth bandage that covered the stump of his wrist. Blood had soaked through the first few so quickly that they were sure he would be dead before morning. But the scorching blade of the ax had sealed as it cut, and the bleeding slowed.
“How does it look?”
She shrugged. “Okay. I mean how is something like that supposed to look? I don’t know but all I can do is douse it with antiseptic and cover it. At least the smell’s gone now. That’s got to be a good sign, right?”
“How many days we got left?”
“Of the antibiotics or the antiseptic?”
“Both.”
“Three, maybe four at the most. We don’t even know if those antibiotics are viable.”
“He’s still alive, isn’t he?” Jonesy replied. “Where’s Lad?” He wanted to change the subject, he was sick of talking about Olin. Sick of thinking about him.
Lisa nodded her head toward the door. “With her.”
He was well and truly through with the girl now. Whatever she felt toward Olin, she hadn’t shown any compassion toward Lisa or himself over the last few days. She hadn’t offered to chop or bring in wood. She just sat in the corner, in her makeshift tent.
“She eaten?” he asked.
“Not for three days.”
“Drinking?”
Lisa shook her head. “Not that I’ve seen.”
He felt weary, more fatigued than he had ever been before. They couldn’t make her eat or drink. It was her choice and he sure as hell wasn’t going out there to plead with her. But just leaving her in the shed to die wasn’t a comfortable feeling either. He didn’t know what to do.
Olin released a scream that made them both jump. He sat up and eyed them both, a deranged smile on his lips.
“You won’t go hungry, honey. I’ve got the gray-meat. Here, come fill your belly!”
He waved his stump at Lisa and winked. “You ain’t gonna die out here, honey.” He pushed the stump toward her. It was nearly touching her cheek. The material was stained a creamy pink. “Take some. Just a bite now. Leave some for me. Good, good. Now let me take a bite, good and juicy.”
He lifted the stump toward his mouth but Lisa took his arm and pushed it down.
“Hey, don’t be greedy. Bitch!” He slapped her with his free hand. It wasn’t hard, he had no strength, but it shocked Lisa and she fell away from him.
Jonesy stepped forward and took both of his arms, pinning them to his side. “He’s delirious.”
“No shit,” Lisa replied.
Olin focused his attention on Jonesy now. “You took my fucking hand.” There was no venom in his voice. It was a measured statement of fact.
“I had to.” He had no idea if Olin was cognizant of what he said but he felt compelled to answer him just the same. He’d been rehearsing it in his head for the last four days.
“I had to,” he repeated. “If I didn’t, you might already be dead.” He winced. Might be dead. It didn’t sound convincing. “I mean, the gangrene had spread, your hand was gone. Your heart...it...it...”
Tears cascaded down Olin’s cheeks. He turned away from Jonesy and looked at his bandage. Jonesy let go of his arm so Olin could bring it toward his face.
He screamed again. “You fucking ate my hand, you fucking ate it!” He took a swing with the stump and then fell back, his eyes rolling in his head. A second later he muttered something unintelligible and was unconscious again.
Jonesy stepped away. “I had to,” he repeated. He looked at Lisa. “I had to,” he said once more.
Lisa stood and took his hands. “He’ll understand,” she said. “When he gets better. If he gets better, he’ll understand.”
Jonesy nodded, but he didn’t think Olin would understand. Not in a million years.
He was filled with a frustrated rage that he didn’t know what to do with. “It’s not my damn fault. This isn’t our fault!” He let go of her hands. “None of it.” He looked at the door and then back at her. “I’m going out there. I’m going out there and I’m going to tell her that as soon as Olin’s able, they’re going. I don’t give a shit where they go or how they get there but they’re not staying in this house.”
Lisa said nothing, just stared at him.
“You’re not going to stop me?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to. God forgive me but I don’t want to stop you.”
23
Jonesy marched out to the shed. It was early afternoon but the light of the day was fading away to nothing. Smoke drifted out of the opening, dense and fragrant. She didn’t want to eat their food anymore but she wanted to keep warm. She was happy using the wood both he and Lisa had toiled over for hours bringing up here. Oh yes, that was fine.
He stepped inside the gloomy interior. She had one of the tarps fastened up to the rafters, making a curtain around her sleeping quarters. The fire burned steadily on one side. He couldn’t see her or the dog.
“Lauren? You in there?” he shouted.
There was a faint shuffling and then Lad came trotting out. His tongue trailed from his mouth like it was midsummer. Jonesy patted him. His fur was warm where the girl had been lying against him.
“Lauren, I need to speak to you.” He paused and then added “Now.” He was aware his tone was abrupt. He didn’t care.
“You need to come out here!” he shouted.
More shuffling and then she tumbled out from beneath her shelter. A plate of half-eaten preserved fruit fell face-down onto the dirt floor.
“Did Lad eat that, or did you?” he asked. He knew the answer already. Lad didn’t lik
e fruit but he liked plates and sometimes he ate stuff so fast it took a moment to register what it actually was. The fruit was mangled and chewed where he’d spat it out.
She shook her head, glancing quickly at the dog.
“Do you know what we had to do to get those? Do you know how long it took Lisa just to jar them?”
She just stared at him with sunken eyes. Eyes of the undead.
“Course you don’t. Why would you?” He took a step toward her. “Want to know how your husband is? No? Not interested in that either?”
He waited a second. “Well I’ve come to tell you something whether you want to hear it or not. Soon as Olin’s back on his feet, you’re gone. Pair of you are gone. I don’t care where you go, you just need to leave.”
He waited again. What for, he didn’t know. Lauren didn’t look capable of putting a sentence together. If he didn’t know differently, he might suspect she was stoned.
“Did you hear what I said?”
Her lack of reaction only stoked his fires. He took another three steps forward until he was standing directly in front of her. Lad walked with him, whimpering.
“Do you know what I had to do in there? What I had to do to him?” The anger at what he’d been made to do came tumbling out of his mouth, the words stinging his lips like a swarm of angry bees. “I had to chop his fucking hand off, his rotten gangrenous hand! I had to lift that ax and bring it down in his wrist like it was kindling!”
He felt like throwing up every time he was forced to think about it. The cracking splinter of bone, the blood, the overwhelming sense that maybe this would be too much to come back from. One foot had been dangling over the precipice since last winter, and now all it would take was a stiff gust to blow him over the edge. Him and Lisa both.
He knelt in front of her. “I should’ve kicked you out the first moment I laid eyes on you. None of this would’ve happened and we wouldn’t have to ask how the fuck we make it to spring.”
Her silence was just as infuriating as Olin’s lies. He could barely control his anger anymore. It was boiling, raging to vent. He wanted to let loose with the torrent that was welling up in him. To slap her. His hand moved upward, his palm exposed.
Lad growled, long, hard and low. The sound stung him. Slap her? No, no, no. Never. He staggered back, away from her. She hadn’t even flinched, not even tried to move out of the way from the blow that she must have seen coming. Was she that conditioned to the abuse? Or was she just on a different planet?
He collapsed to the ground, sitting in the dirt just looking into her icy blue eyes. There was nothing there. Nothing at all. It was almost like looking into Lisa’s eyes a year ago, just before they left the cabin and started walking. Dead. Forlorn.
A huge stab of guilt pierced the anger, deflating it in one go. What was he doing here? What the hell was he doing? He staggered to his feet, hungover from the intoxicating effects of rage. This wasn’t him. Not in a million years was this him.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, almost staggering toward the opening. He needed to get out of here, feel the biting wind chew through his flesh and rip the enmity from his body.
“I can’t see him anymore.” Lauren’s voice was weak, almost a whisper.
“Huh?” He turned around, clinging to a pile of logs. Lad was sitting beside her again.
“When I close my eyes, I can’t see Olin anymore. Not his smile, not his eyes. I can’t even hear his laughter now.”
“He’s in there, Lauren. He’s in the cabin, you can see him anytime you want.”
She rolled back, allowing the tarp to fall into place and cover her again. “I can’t see him,” she whispered.
Jonesy stood for a moment, watching Lad’s shadow move beneath the tarp, then he turned and walked out of the shed. Lauren had given up, she was losing her mind. He had no idea how to save her but he felt as if he had just bought a ticket to join her.
*
“I need to get out of here,” he said.
“What’re you talking about?” Lisa replied.
They were in bed, hoping to get a few hours’ rest before Olin started screaming again. Since Jonesy came back from the shed, Olin had been up and down, screaming, shouting and waving his stump about like a maniac. The only difference in his condition was the considerable drop in his temperature. Maybe he was coming out of the worst of it, maybe not. Jonesy no longer cared one way or the other.
When Lisa went out to the bathroom, Jonesy had stood over Olin. He didn’t remember picking up a cushion. He didn’t remember it until his fingers cramped. All he could think of was how easy it would be to put an end to it. To put an end to Olin. He dropped the cushion on the floor beside the couch as if it were on fire. When Lisa returned, he was upstairs. He didn’t feel safe being around Olin or Lauren anymore.
“I just need to put some distance between me and...them.” He paused. “And this place.”
“We’ve packed a lot of bad memories into a year and a half.” Lisa’s tone was flat.
“We have. I’m not sure I can stay here anymore. I’m not sure I want to.” He put words to what he’d been thinking for a couple of days. It was easier than he’d imagined.
“You want to give up?”
He rolled onto his side and faced her. “Maybe someone’s trying to tell us something. Last year and now this, perhaps it’s just not meant for us. We’ve lived in towns and cities our whole lives, Lisa, what the hell was I thinking bringing us out here?” He rolled away from her.
“Look,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next spring, I don’t even know what tomorrow’s going to bring. All we can do is focus on getting through winter. We don’t need to think about anything beyond that.”
“You could stay?” he asked.
There was a pause. “I didn’t say that but what we can’t do is get into the mindset of thinking, we’re leaving in spring and that’s final. We do that, we won’t get through it. We do what we’ve always done, Jonesy, we survive. We do what we have to do to survive. It’s not complicated but it is hard.”
He rolled over again. “Then I need to go and hunt.”
“Then I’m coming.”
He shook his head. “Not this time. One of us needs to stay and watch out for Olin. And for her.”
“Then that should be you. We both know I’m the better shot.”
He hadn’t told Lisa how close he’d been to striking Lauren – he couldn’t.
“I don’t think I can be around them, either of them, for a while.” He saw himself using the striped cushion he’d been holding on Olin’s face. Smothering him.
She opened her mouth to argue but she must have seen something in his eyes that told her to let it go.
“Just a day,” he said. “I’ll head over to the thicket where we saw the goats...”
“And the grizzly.”
He smiled. “And the grizzly. The goats won’t have gone too far and I’m pretty sure if I get close enough I can hit one.”
“You’ll take Lad,” she said.
He thought back to how the dog had behaved toward him earlier. He didn’t even know if he’d want to come. “Of course.”
“When?”
“In the morning. Get an early start and without having to babysit, I can be back before it gets dark.”
It had to be then. Olin was still out cold and would be for several more days. He wanted to be around when he woke up.
24
He needn’t have worried about Lad. As soon as the dog heard the harness jangle, he jumped out of Lauren’s lair and ran toward Jonesy with his tongue lolling. He stood beside the sled as he always did and waited to be secured.
He kissed Lisa and set off out of the clearing toward the trail. The longest time they had spent apart from each other in the last eighteen months were the occasional day trips down to Big Six. They had certainly never hunted without the other. As he reached the trail and turned toward the east, he felt guilt over the sudden fe
eling of liberation. It wasn’t because he was leaving Lisa, it was that he was leaving the camp behind, leaving all the shit the cabin reminded him of now. If they were to stay in Alaska come spring, which he doubted, it would be a long way from Big Six and the Tanana valley.
He jumped onto the footplate and allowed Lad to carry him a short distance. It didn’t last long. Soon the snow drifted straight off the plateau, banking up against the treeline in six-foot mounds. He turned Lad off the trail toward the plateau. It was more exposed; the wind, the snow and the penetrating cold made the bleak landscape a desolate, icy desert. But here, the snow remained at a constant depth, making passage easier. Alaska gave nothing away for free. If you wanted a smoother trip, you paid for it with harsher weather.
It was after nine o’clock but the sun had not yet fully risen. Pale gray light limped over the dark shadow of the range in the distance. He didn’t need it to be daylight to reach the goats but he needed it to hunt and it was precious. Day was now a four-hour wedge of half-light that never entirely escaped the oily paws of the night.
The range provided the only point of reference in an otherwise barren vista. The dagger-shadows of the Sitka were far behind now, the aspen thicket crouching and hidden in deference to the mountains. The distance seemed not to close, and away to the south – far enough to be out of sight but not mind, never out of mind – was the cabin that saved their lives last winter. Like Alaska, it had taken something in return, something of equal value.
“Come on, Lad!” he urged the dog on. His voice was an inconsequential whisper but the dog’s ears moved just enough to let Jonesy know he’d heard him. Lad pulled them onward, creeping forward in the whirling maelstrom.
He felt spiky fingers of ice work into his exposed beard and eyebrows. If he was unable to make a success of the hunt today, he or Lisa would have to return tomorrow, and the next day and the day after that. It was a horrible certainty to come to terms with, but their food supply would expire within six weeks – a month if they ate what they should be eating to survive. Either way, it didn’t take them out of winter. It left them stranded in a place they had been before.
