He Started It

by Downing, Samantha

  There’s nothing in southeastern Oregon. I don’t mean that in a sarcastic way, either. It’s true. Once you hit I-95 South, there’s a whole lot of nothing until you hit the Nevada border. A beautiful drive, to be sure, but at this point I’ve had my fill of scenery.

  Last time, it was the most tedious drive in the world because all I could think about was finding Nikki. She had money to travel and stay in a motel. Nikki had stolen all the cash from Grandpa’s wallet.

  ‘She could’ve taken a bus,’ Grandpa said. ‘Tickets are cheap.’

  Nikki would do that. She was smart enough to figure out that a bus was her best option to get to the desert. Assuming she hadn’t called our parents. She might have, since she had been talking about it not long ago.

  But would she?

  I spent a lot of time thinking about that in the car because it distracted me – for a minute – from blaming myself. I never admitted it was my fault to anyone, certainly not Grandpa or Eddie. They might have tied me up, too.

  It was when we were in the woods. That part was Grandpa’s fault. He sent me with Nikki so she could pee. Would it have been inappropriate for him to go with her? Yes. Eddie, too. I bet Grandpa considered all of that, especially because of what Nikki had accused him of doing with Portia. So he sent me.

  By then, we had finished eating and had just started on our cocoa. Nikki’s hands were tied up again.

  ‘Beth, don’t you dare untie her,’ Grandpa said.

  As soon as we got into the woods, Nikki told me to do exactly that. ‘I’m not going to run,’ she said. ‘I just want to pull down my own pants.’

  Made sense to me. And she didn’t run. She even told me how to retie the knot exactly like Grandpa had done. ‘Just not so tight. Look at those marks.’

  True. She had red marks on both wrists from the rope digging into them. I left her enough room to wriggle around a little. I also took my time, because I wanted to talk to her alone. I had finally worked up the courage to tell her that I knew.

  ‘You’re pregnant, aren’t you?’ I said.

  She stared at me, eyes wide, in a genuine state of shock.

  ‘I saw the test in your bag,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t snooping, I swear. I was just looking for your Discman because Portia was scared and …’ The words came out in a rush as I tried to explain, tried to not make her mad. ‘I just saw it.’

  She took a deep breath, recovering from the shock, and she said the last words I ever heard from her.

  ‘Don’t. Fucking. Tell. Anyone.’

  When we came out of the woods, Grandpa looked at the knot to confirm it was the same. By then, I was starting to feel sleepy. Now I know it was from the pain pills. Back then, I just thought it was because the day had been so long. I bet the pills are what made Grandpa not check close enough. He only looked at the knot; he didn’t check how tight or loose it was.

  Though, to be fair, Nikki did a good job of selling it. She grimaced when she moved, like the rope hurt.

  It never occurred to me that she would leave. She just disappeared and never returned with help.

  I’ve wondered if that was her plan. Maybe she wanted to find a police officer or call our parents or even find a park ranger. But then something happened. Maybe she was hit by a car or kidnapped into a sex-trafficking ring. Maybe she fell and hit her head and ended up with amnesia.

  But no, none of that happened.

  She’s still out here.

  Back then, I didn’t know that. I had no idea what happened to her. As we drove through Oregon, I was worried about her, upset she had left, and I wanted to make sure she was safe. When Grandpa pulled off the road and into a motel, I lost it.

  ‘You can’t stop,’ I said. ‘We have to go to the desert.’

  ‘I can’t drive anymore,’ Grandpa said.

  ‘But you have to!’ I felt tears in my eyes, falling down my cheeks. They came so fast they surprised me.

  ‘Oh God,’ Eddie said, shaking his head at me. I could feel his disappointment and I didn’t care. ‘She ran away, okay? Nikki always runs away. She can’t deal with life at all.’

  Grandpa had apparently decided Eddie was right, because he decided to stop.

  Portia was curled up in a ball, next to me on the seat. She had sniffled and cried her way through Oregon, still feeling bad about sprinkling that powder on our cocoa. But not bad enough to hate her sister. ‘I miss Nikki,’ she whispered.

  ‘We should keep going,’ I said. ‘Or call the police.’

  ‘Nikki can’t move any faster than us,’ Grandpa said. ‘If she took a bus, she’ll move even slower. We’ll probably beat her to the desert.’

  Normally, I’d look to Nikki for confirmation of a statement like that. Without her, I had to make my own choice. She wouldn’t be able to fly to the desert, I knew that. So it made sense that she’d be on a bus. Would a bus drive through the night? I didn’t know, couldn’t know. And I also couldn’t drive.

  I almost told them right then.

  Nikki is pregnant.

  The words were right on the tip of my tongue, begging to be said. Would it have changed anything? Would Grandpa have called the police? And if we did find her, how angry would Nikki have been that I said something? That was the thing that scared me most. When Nikki was finally back, she would be so pissed at me.

  So I said nothing.

  We stop right at the border, just like last time. Technically, we’re still in Oregon but we’re close enough to walk into Nevada. The motel is the same. For the first time on this trip, I know for a fact we’re at the same place. First, because there aren’t that many in this area. Second, because of the sign.

  ‘You remember that?’ I ask Portia.

  She looks up at the giant neon beaver on the sign of the Beaver Dam Inn. ‘Yeah. Of course.’

  I also remember Grandpa lecturing us about the beaver, which is the state animal of Oregon, and how crucial they are to the ecosystem. I didn’t care about any of that. I liked the place because it looked like somewhere Nikki would stay. The big neon animal sign would get her attention.

  ‘How many rooms?’ Eddie says.

  ‘One,’ Portia says. ‘We can all fit in one, unless someone wants a room to themselves.’

  I looked from one to the other. ‘Well, is anyone planning to kill me in my sleep?’

  Eddie rolls his eyes.

  ‘Too chickenshit for me,’ Portia says. ‘If I kill you, you’ll know I did it.’

  One room it is. ‘I’ll pay.’

  Not only do I remember the sign; I remember the office because it was the only one I saw. Grandpa usually checked in, or Nikki, but never me. At the Beaver Dam, Grandpa let me come into the office with him.

  It was a small, stuffy room that was too hot and smelled like smoke. The man behind the desk had long hair and a beard but no moustache. It looked weird. He was weird. His eyes were different colors and he looked right past Grandpa instead of at him.

  I didn’t go into the office to meet the desk clerk. I wanted to see the keys. Grandpa didn’t know it, but I wanted to see which rooms had been rented for the night.

  There were two: room numbers 4 and 9. We got number 6.

  Over the past twenty years, the office has been redone. It’s been painted white and the cigarette stench has been replaced with pine-scented deodorizers. A dark-skinned woman with almost-black hair sits behind the desk. She gives me the once-over as soon as I walk in.

  ‘One room, please. For one night.’

  She looks behind me, at our car. ‘For three people?’ she says.

  ‘Oh, yeah. That’s my brother and sister. We’re on a road trip.’ I don’t know what she thought was going on, but I wanted to quash anything unseemly.

  With a curt nod, she takes my cash and grabs a key off the board. Some things never get updated. A new key card system costs a lot more than a can of paint. We get room number 8.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say to the woman.

  She gives me a dirty look and grunts a little.
I don’t think she believes Eddie and Portia are my siblings.

  Yes, the ashes are still in the car this time. Eddie brings them into the room.

  Unlike the front office, the room hasn’t been updated or painted. It’s still stuck in the eighties, just like last time, and everything is floral. Everything. The walls, the curtains, even the headboards of both beds. The décor has nothing to do with beaver dams.

  ‘I would’ve killed myself if I lived in the eighties,’ Portia says.

  That’s funny, because last time she loved it. She twirled around in circles and said it made her feel like she was in the middle of a bouquet.

  All I had been thinking about was how to get out of that room and see who was staying in the others. I hoped so hard one was Nikki. Did I really believe she was? No. I’m not delusional, never have been. Even at twelve, I knew how unlikely it was that Nikki was here, if only because Eddie kept saying it.

  ‘You’re such an idiot,’ he said. ‘She’s gone. She’s not staying here.’

  ‘I just want to check.’

  I couldn’t, though, not unless Eddie came with me. Grandpa was never going to let me out of the room by myself or with Portia, not after Nikki ran away. But Eddie was his partner, his sidekick. Grandpa trusted him.

  Luckily, my family played Risk. I knew that to get someone on your side, you had to give them something. Everyone was bribable.

  ‘What do you want?’ I asked.

  ‘I want you to leave me alone.’

  ‘No, really. What?’

  He thought about it, toying with the idea while smiling and teasing and having a lot of fun being able to name his price. After some intense negotiation, we agreed that I had to do his chores and give him my allowance for a month.

  Grandpa had no problem with us going down to the soda machine. It wasn’t too late, and compared to other motels we had stayed in, the Beaver Dam was almost family friendly. Maybe because the rooms were so floral and they had Disney movies available for rent at the front desk.

  As soon as we got out, I went straight to door number 4 and knocked.

  ‘Do you think Nikki will just open the door?’ Eddie said.

  ‘If she’s here, she will.’ I knocked again.

  The man who answered the door wasn’t Nikki. He wasn’t anyone Nikki would talk to. First, because he was older than our grandfather. Second, because the woman behind him was half naked on the bed and half his age.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Wrong room.’

  I ran. Eddie wasn’t far behind. Room number 9 was next and last. This time I hesitated.

  Eddie stepped up and did the knocking. ‘Let’s finish this already.’

  Nikki wasn’t in that room. But the man who was changed everything.

  The TV is on but no one watches. We’re all too busy staring at our phones. Eddie sits by the window because we’re back on watch for the black truck.

  After checking in with Cooper, who is working late, I take out my laptop and look at my e-mails and the local news from back home. I also check the Oregon news from Hells Canyon and the news from Colorado.

  No word from Krista. No news about any bodies being found, not a word about Felix. It’s almost another job checking in on things.

  Social media, especially. It’s all fine when I have something good to share, otherwise it’s just post after post of everyone else’s life. Yes, yes, yes, I’m so happy for you – Yay! Living the dream! – but I have nothing good to post about myself. All the wrong people would be impressed that I got away with killing my husband. So far.

  ‘Let’s do a selfie,’ I say.

  ‘No,’ Portia says.

  ‘None of your friends will see it. I’ll post it on my page.’

  ‘Whatever,’ Eddie says.

  ‘Come on,’ I say.

  They gather in close and we all stare in to the camera, seeing our own image looking back at us. We aren’t young or tan or wild-looking like last time. We look like losers trying to make themselves better for social media.

  Portia frowns. ‘Do you really want this floral background?’

  ‘Yeah, maybe we should go outside,’ Eddie says. ‘We can get the beaver sign in the picture.’

  ‘Even a plain background would be better,’ Portia says.

  The placement of the selfie – of any selfie – takes a while. We test and delete a variety of backgrounds, both inside and out, by the car and by the motel sign. It’s too tall and impossible to get in a selfie. Even when we angle the phone, it doesn’t come out right.

  ‘You know,’ Portia says. ‘The floral wallpaper is actually kind of funny. You could make fun of how kitsch it is.’

  We end up back where we started, squished together in front of the floral wall in our room. Click, check, delete. Click, check, delete. We repeat this until we’re all happy with the picture.

  ‘You’re doing this for Felix, right?’ Portia says. ‘To show him you’re having fun.’

  ‘Exactly,’ I say.

  I post the picture, along with the tag: Current mood: 80’s wallpaper, 90’s rock, & both my siblings.

  Within minutes, people start liking it. It’s only been a few days since I posted but you’d think I’d been in Siberia. The people I know are the kind who pay attention to their social media all the time.

  I take a shower, and when I get out, Portia is in our bed and already asleep. Eddie is about to turn off his bedside lamp. Before he does, he says, ‘You good?’

  ‘I’m good.’

  Portia doesn’t move.

  I get into bed, place my phone facedown, and fall asleep in an instant. The knocking at the door wakes me up.

  The pounding, I should say. Like someone is using the back of their fist against the door. Three times. The first woke me up. It woke all of us up.

  Eddie is the first to get out of bed. Rather, he jumps up, walks across our bed, and lands by the door. The pounding stops as he gets there.

  ‘Don’t open it,’ I say.

  He opens it.

  I picture a giant man, maybe a logger with a thick beard and a plaid shirt, because yes, I stereotype. Instead, it’s a woman. A rather petite woman with auburn hair.

  ‘You Dylan?’ she says.

  ‘What?’ Eddie says.

  ‘Dylan. Are. You. Dylan.’

  Eddie’s face turns from confusion to anger. ‘No.’

  ‘You sure?’ she says.

  ‘Very.’

  She walks away. Eddie slams the door just as Portia says, ‘You think she threw her whole body against the door to knock that hard?’

  Auburn hair.

  Like the woman in the back of the pickup.

  I think about saying something when Eddie yelps after stubbing his toe trying to get back into his bed. No one else says a word about her, or even seems to recognize her. Maybe I’m wrong.

  ‘Did that woman look familiar?’ I ask.

  ‘No,’ Eddie says.

  ‘No,’ Portia says.

  Just me, then. And it definitely wasn’t Nikki.

  Eddie rustles around in his duffel bag, Portia checks her phone, and eventually the room goes quiet. I’m already drifting off when she pounds on the door again. Three times, hard.

  Portia is faster than Eddie this time. She throws off the covers and gets to the door in one big leap. She’s already yelling when she opens the door.

  ‘Goddammit, there’s no Dylan –’

  The auburn-haired woman is not standing in front of our door but two men are, and I recognize them immediately. The Alabama Godfather and the other guy, the younger one. Both of them are smiling.

  Then I spot her. The woman stands behind them, the scout for this little operation.

  Portia tries to shut the door, but the younger man steps forward, blocking the doorway.

  I jump out of the bed and grab Portia, pulling her away from the door and away from these men. They’re both inside now. The younger one shuts the door and the Godfather looks at Portia.

  ‘What were you say
ing, honey?’ His voice is as annoying as I remember, Southern accent and all.

  ‘I was saying get the hell out of our room.’ Portia spits the words out.

  The Godfather laughs, his friend joins in. I glance over at the nightstand, wishing I had grabbed my phone.

  Behind me, I hear Eddie moving. Now he’s out of bed.

  ‘Let’s all calm down,’ the young man says. He keeps his eyes on Portia, who looks like she’s going to leap forward and attack him. ‘You, little hellcat, how about you don’t move and then we won’t have to hurt you?’

  I feel Portia’s body tense. I grip the back of her shirt with one hand and her arm with the other. She doesn’t move, though it feels like she will.

  ‘Good kitty,’ the young guy says.

  ‘What the hell did you just call me?’ She tries to take a step forward. Instead, he does.

  ‘I called you a –’

  ‘Stop.’

  Eddie. His voice cuts above everyone else’s, and I’m just about to laugh when I see the gun. In Eddie’s hand.

  This takes my breath away.

  A memory of the past hits me, as swift and hard as any punch. It stuns me and I do not move.

  Portia pushes me out of the way, getting both of us out of the line of fire. Now there’s an open space between Eddie and the two men. Neither is holding a gun. If they have one, they were too late on the draw, because it looks like we’re in a Western now.

  ‘Eddie,’ the Godfather says.

  ‘Eddie?’ Portia says.

  The Godfather looks only at Eddie and the weapon in his hand. ‘There’s no reason to bring a gun into this.’

  ‘You just broke into our room,’ Eddie says. ‘I’d say this is a perfect time for a gun.’

  The Godfather shrugs. ‘We thought we lost you when you decided to go camping. Now that we’ve found you again, I didn’t want to make that mistake again.’

  Eddie snorts.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Portia says. ‘But what the fuck is happening?’

  The Godfather raises his eyebrow at Eddie and the young guy laughs. ‘I guess Eddie didn’t tell you he knows us.’

  I’ve been listening and watching like this is a movie and not really happening, but somewhere deep in my mind, the wheels have been churning along, processing it all. Portia telling me about Eddie arguing with someone on the phone about money, then watching him yell at someone on the phone at the gas station. The answer comes all at once.