Tales from The Lake 3

by Tales from The Lake

  “Of course I was, stupid.”

  He sat quiet for a long moment. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Don’t be.”

  She’d always been stronger than most girls. It hadn’t been hard for her to accept death. She’d seen too much of it for a girl her age. Death was an imminent consequence of life.

  “What did it—”

  He sucked in a deep breath and appeared to regret his words.

  “For Heaven’s sake, Jesse, just ask already.”

  “What did it feel like being trapped in that fire?”

  She thought hard. “Not as bad as you would think.”

  “No?”

  “Well, for one thing, I don’t remember being afraid. I felt the heat and all, smelled the smoke, but my thoughts were elsewhere. Danger, the fire, those things never crossed my mind until afterward. Next thing I know I’m staring down at my dead friend and I can’t stop thinking about what happened. I still can’t shake that feeling, the numbness.”

  “Numb?”

  She nodded. “I suppose it still hasn’t set in after all these years . . . that she’s gone.”

  “I miss her,” he said solemnly.

  She caught herself glaring at him. Did he miss her? Or had he said this for her sake?

  Of course he said it for your benefit. Not that it matters.

  But in a way, it did.

  “Seriously? Did you ever even talk to her?”

  Doubt obvious in his frown, he nodded. “Yes, I did.”

  “No, I mean talk to her?”

  His eyes veered away, perhaps trying to create some special moment. But he said nothing. How could he? His ignorance took root in her thoughts and she might have ridiculed him if it hadn’t been for the sudden manifestation of blue and red lights on the horizon.

  Both of them watched, hearing a squelch from the radio as an unseen officer spoke. Then she heard the squeal of brakes. Seconds later younger voices spoke. Soon enough the lights moved on and they watched until the glow could no longer be seen.

  “Thought the jig was up,” he said.

  “Nah, they’re just harassing the kids. Making sure they don’t come out here in the corn. Remember? They did the same damn thing to us.”

  He nodded.

  “Soon,” she said, “they’ll all go inside. It’s almost curfew, and there won’t be so many cops. Doubt they’ll bother us anyway.” She winked. “But you never know, one of those donut eaters might get nosey.”

  His eyes widened. “What if . . . ”

  “Stop doing that.”

  “What if a cop did it?”

  She couldn’t draw her gaze away. “Come on, do you think one of Rustin’s finest could do such a thing?”

  “Yep,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I mean, maybe. It could’ve been anyone, so why not one of them? Who says it’s even someone from our town?”

  She examined his face as she pondered his words. He was on to something.

  “Thing is,” she said, “it could be you for all I know.”

  Nervous laughter escaped him and for a long moment he said nothing. “It isn’t, you know?”

  She grinned. “Isn’t what? One of the cops?”

  “No, I mean it isn’t me,” he said. “I could never do . . . that.”

  “I know, dumbass.”

  She smacked him hard on the shoulder and took another swig of the schnapps. Handed the bottle over to him and took a final drag off the cigarette. She stabbed the butt into one of the few stones on the ground, blew the smoke into his face, which made him cough. That also made her laugh.

  He grinned, and shifted closer to her. For now, she let him. They lay there staring into each other’s eyes, their lips close, until she was sure he could stand no more. She breathed in and let him kiss her.

  His hand caressed her shoulders. Down the small of her back and to her ass, where he groped and pulled. His other hand snaked under her shirt, struggling to wriggle past the underwire of her bra. When he finally managed this task he squeezed and pinched.

  They kissed deeper, their tongues dancing. He smelled like peaches, shaving cream and sweat. Then she heard someone approaching.

  She pushed him away, rose to one knee and tugged her shirt down.

  He came up behind her, his hands still searching, willing to ignore any and all intrusions.

  She shook him off, but he kept at it. She couldn’t blame him. To use one of his references, she’d let him steal second base and then called the game prematurely.

  “Behave yourself,” she said. “Someone’s coming.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, reassuring her and pawing around to her belly. His fingers moved up her shirt again. “No one ever comes in this far.”

  We did. But only because she’d invited him.

  “They might,” she said.

  Entranced by her body, his voice sounded miles away. “Nah.”

  His hand cupped her breast and she felt like smacking him. Her eyes remained on a short span of cornstalks, everything beyond them concealed in darkness. Her eyes pried deeper into the thicket, still seeing nothing. Then she did see something.

  Feet scurried from one position to another. There, the whites of two eyes peered out from the dark.

  Do they see me?

  She pulled away from Jesse’s groping hands and shrank in behind him. Redirected his eyes to those eyes.

  “There,” she said, whispering.

  Now he saw what she’d seen. He grabbed the bat and rose fast, charging into the stalks.

  The young girl burst out into the open, eyes fixed on Jesse. It was long enough for Dana to identify their intruder.

  Linda Lenore had sold Girl Scout cookies to Dana’s mom for the last three years. If the girl had been wearing much more face paint, Dana might not have recognized her.

  Jesse chased the girl far into the darkness, returning seconds later alone.

  “We should go,” he said. “She might tell the cops.”

  “Okay, okay. Give me a minute will you.”

  Dana breathed deeply, still catching herself.

  Jesse kneeled beside her and sat the bat aside. He acted as though he cared, although she suspected this was a ploy to continue his pursuit of home plate at some other location.

  “Do you think she saw me?” Dana said.

  “Not a chance.” He grinned, dimples deep in his cheeks. “She couldn’t take her eyes off me.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Why would she look at you with me chasing her?” He wore a devilish grin. “I think she peed herself.”

  She wasn’t so sure. Still, she grabbed the bat and rose. With her appearing playful, he let her come closer. Then, she brought the bat around hard and fast against Jesse’s temple.

  Shocked, he stumbled to all fours.

  Fast as ever, she stood over him and struck him over the head again. She stared down at him for a split second and although she regretted it, she brought the bat down on his head again.

  Finally he collapsed.

  Justifying her actions, she considered his motives. All he wanted was to cop a feel. I’m so sick of people, always pretending to understand when they clearly don’t. Liars, all of them. They’re all so self-absorbed.

  She retrieved the lighter from her pocket and struck it. She held the flame to a bundle of dried husks, which ignited fast, and watched the flames grow, encouraging them and lighting several locations surrounding Jesse.

  When she finished, she stood a good distance away and watched it burn. Felt hot and excited, so alive.

  After a while Jesse stirred and they stared at each other through the wall of flames. Together they broke for freedom.

  Jesse burst through the wall of flames toward her, still ablaze. He lifted his hands, begging for help she would not provide.

  “Help me,” he said. “Please.”

  She ignored his pleas. She’d come here for other reasons. Besides, she didn’t see Jesse. She twisted the ring on her thumb.

  �
��Daddy?” Tears streamed down her face, hot as fire. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” She started again. “You said you’d come back.”

  She wiped her tears away. Slowly, the flames diminished. She didn’t notice Jesse until they were nearly out.

  Having seen the smoke, red and blue lights brightened the horizon once more. They’d be here soon, but she waited, ever hopeful. But her daddy didn’t come back.

  That wouldn’t keep her from trying.

  Conceding her failure, she fled. Exited through the same drainage ditch her father had used to save her that first time. It dumped out into the woods, obscuring her in a canopy of leafless trees.

  Far away now, she glanced up at the moon and lit a cigarette. She watched the sky fill with dusky smoke, and her thoughts turned to Linda.

  BIOGRAPHY: Kenneth W. Cain is the author of The Saga Of I trilogy (These Trespasses, Grave Revelations, and Reckoning), United States of the Dead, and two acclaimed short story collections: These Old Tales and Fresh Cut Tales. His short stories have been published, and are forthcoming, in several anthologies and publications. He lives in Chester County, Pennsylvania with his wife and two children.

  EFFIGY

  Kate Jonez

  Tiny white lights looped off the trellis surrounding the patio of Sampang Café and reflected off the tops of the glass tables. For just an instant Gwen felt off balance, as though she were supposed to remember how to pick out a meaningful constellation from the sea of artificial stars. Someone told her once or maybe she read it somewhere that the constellations helped ancient people remember their history. That seemed unlikely. There was no meaning in the stars, not even the real ones. Why should she even try to remember that stuff? It was hard enough to remember how to navigate the city.

  “Gwen,” a man called out.

  Gwen hurried toward his table then remembered to slow down so she wouldn’t draw attention to the fact she was fifteen minutes late. He wouldn’t notice unless she made a big deal of it.

  Probably.

  It wasn’t her fault. She’d left her phone on top of a stack of boxes in her apartment. Without it, it had been a nightmare finding the Culver City restaurant. Luckily, she’d written the address on a scrap of paper. Most people would have given up, but Gwen didn’t have that option.

  The air was heavy with the smells of curry and fish. Without being too obvious, Gwen peeked at what people were eating. She didn’t recognize anything. She hoped Indonesians didn’t eat fish bladders or chicken beaks. She should have researched that ahead of time, especially since she planned to land this job as a nanny. Living with the family, she’d surely have to partake of the cuisine.

  Gwen smiled as the man stood up to shake her hand. Victor Sunjaya, Soon-jai-ya. He wasn’t old or young; good-looking or ugly. He was exactly in between. He was the same height as she was, five foot seven. She thought he’d be taller.

  For a man who ran an import/export company he didn’t look especially distinguished.

  She should keep an open mind. Judging people by their appearance was wrong. She was going to be his nanny not his wife, so his looks didn’t matter.

  It was a little odd to meet for a job interview in a restaurant at night. A little odd, but not all that much. Not every Craig’s List ad was posted by murderers and rapists. He was probably busy in the day importing and exporting or maybe traveling to the company’s main office in Jakarta. Once she was hired, she’d be travelling around the world in no time. Nannies got to do that.

  “Did you find the place without trouble?” he asked as he sat down again, gesturing for her to do the same. He didn’t have an accent exactly but there was something about the way he strung words together, without trouble, which seemed like it took effort. His teeth were remarkably white and straight.

  Gwen smiled without showing hers. She couldn’t remember if she’d brushed.

  At the next table, a tall, dark-haired man with a fashionable haircut hissed at his wife. As if she were being purposefully defiant, she took her time letting her eyes wander back from Mr. Sunjaya and Gwen’s table. The man said something in a language Gwen couldn’t place. Indonesian obviously. The woman narrowed her eyes at him and tucked a lock of her long expertly coiffed hair behind her ear.

  Gwen wished she’d gotten the nice haircut she wanted rather than the ten-dollar Supercut. She felt like a scarecrow compared to the woman at the next table. Saving the money didn’t matter in the long run. She still came up short. First paycheck she pledged to get her hair done properly.

  “No problem at all, Mr. Sunjaya. Your directions were good, thank you.” Gwen hoped he would say she should call him Victor because his last name didn’t exactly roll off her tongue. He didn’t, but that would come later, once he got to know her better.

  His eyes darted across the patio to the archway she’d just come through. They flitted back to her then again to the archway as if he were nervous or waiting for someone. That was probably where the waiters lingered, waiting for a sign from the guests. Maybe he was looking for a waiter, although the archway looked just like an exit to the parking lot.

  “Would you like something, a coffee?” Mr. Sunjaya asked. “Waiter,” he barked at a waiter who did not appear through the archway but looked up from a nearby table. Mr. Sunjaya’s voice was surprisingly loud for such a small man. “Coffee.”

  The waiter nodded. He didn’t seem at all annoyed that Mr. Sunjaya interrupted him. Victor must be an important person.

  Gwen wasn’t especially fond of coffee, but it was too late now. She’d drink it. It wasn’t that big of a deal. When she was his nanny she’d make hot chocolate for the child and always make extra for herself.

  She reached into her bag and pulled out her resume and slid it across the table. The thin white paper, not cream-colored and fabric-like made her cringe. She’d spared no expense to get the very best resumes, only she’d forgotten to pick them up from the printer. Maybe it wouldn’t matter. The type of resume paper an applicant used wasn’t that important.

  Mr. Sunjaya took the paper from her. He seemed a bit distracted like there was somewhere else he’d rather be. He glanced at it and set it down. He looked into Gwen’s eyes.

  For just an instant she thought she saw a hint of something . . . sympathy maybe . . . but it quickly passed.

  His eyebrows were bushy with a few long stray gray hairs. He’d look ten years younger if he took care of that. Someday, when she was considered a member of the family she’d mention it.

  The waiter placed a miniature cup filled with ink-black liquid in front of her.

  “Thank you,” Gwen said.

  Without asking, the waiter placed a delicate looking glass in front of her and filled it with water from a pitcher.

  “How old is your child?” Gwen asked. “Your daughter, right?”

  Confusion flashed in Mr. Sunjaya’s eyes for a second, but he quickly recovered. “Right, yes, my daughter.” He glanced at the archway again.

  The tiny lights climbed up one side and down the other. They were so much brighter than the stars in the sky, but just as meaningless. How could stars ever help anyone remember their history? There were so many. They were so random.

  Gwen sipped her coffee. It tasted like someone had soaked cigarette butts in hot water. She resisted the urge to spit. That’s not the kind of thing a nanny would do.

  “Would you like to meet her?” Mr. Sunjaya pushed Gwen’s resume away without taking a second look at it.

  “I have references if you’d like their numbers.”

  Mr. Sunjaya waved his had to dismiss the idea. All the while his eyes darted back and forth around the patio.

  Gwen’s stomach lurched. According to the notice the sheriff pinned to the door of her apartment, at midnight tonight, in just a few hours, she was going to be locked out. She envied those people she ran into from time to time who could move home to Iowa or wherever when things got bad. How lucky they were to have the family home to run to when they needed to rebound from fai
lure and nurse their humiliation. Those people acted like it was the worst that could happen. They were wrong.

  “I’ll bring her here.” He slid back his chair and stood. “And you can meet her. You wait. Wait here until I return with my daughter and you will be her . . . pengasuh . . . babysitter.”

  “But . . . ?” Gwen said. “Can I tell you about my experience with children?”

  Gwen had none, but Mr. Sunjaya didn’t need to know that. She had references that said she did. Gwen was going to love being a nanny. She never got to be a kid, not the way most kids did. With that thing that happened with her mother and her father nowhere to be found. When she was a nanny she was going to play all the kid games and read all the kid books and eat all the kid food and be happy and safe and secure.

  “I am giving to you the job.” Mr. Sunjaya said without looking at Gwen. His eyes seemed to be focused on the tips of her fingers. “You should not try so hard.”

  “You are?” It felt like the sun bloomed inside her. A hundred questions flooded her head. She glanced at her resume. What piece of information had secured the position for her? What did she say? What did she do? She couldn’t even guess.

  “I am going now.” Mr. Sunjaya leaned toward her. Even though he was small for a man, he loomed over her. The mass of his body blocked the constellations of decorative light. Gwen tensed, and a flash of fear exploded in her chest as he reached down. This was an odd reaction to a man who had just given her a job. Mr. Sunjaya didn’t put his hand on Gwen’s shoulder as she thought he was going to do. He grabbed a box from the chair next to her and placed it on the table. “Please take care of my package while I am going to get my daughter.”

  “Okay.” Gwen’s voice rose at the end like she was asking a question. This was a perfectly normal request. He would bring the child back and then Gwen would be her nanny. It was perfect. It was the best possible outcome.

  The box didn’t take up much more room than a dinner plate. It was cardboard and looked like a shoebox except the printing on the side wasn’t English and a strip of silver duct tape sealed it. Someone had stabbed a few holes in the top with a sharp object as though a small animal needed air.