by Bill Cameron
“Did you see what that fucker did to me?”
Ed checks the tension on the clothesline. I’m trussed hands and feet, unable to move. The more I pull on my bonds, the tighter they become. Already my hands are starting to grow numb. His eyes are empty as he raises the electrolarynx.
“I am sorry if I gave you the idea we had become friends.”
Three Years, Three Months Before
Miss Safe Sex Klamath County
In the Victory Chapel, there was only the cross. No graven images, no images of the Apostles. The Bible picture books in the Sunday School rooms showed no illustrations of Moses, Abraham or the Savior. Such were deemed idolatry and thus forbidden. The fallen churches may defy the second Commandment—the Catholics and Lutherans and Presbyterians—but not the Victory Chapel. On this matter, as with many others, doctrine was firm. It didn’t stop Ellie’s mother from keeping a framed print of Jesus. The picture hung in the hallway at the top of the stairs. Jesus among family pictures: Brett and Rob in their Little League uniforms, Myra and Ellie in school pictures. Second grade, no front teeth. Tenth grade, first FFA ribbon. Grandparents, cousins, some of the pictures as old as photography itself, some of them as new as one-hour digital printing from Wal-Mart. Among them was a faded shot of the original homestead, her three-greats grandfather and grandmother standing in front of a sod-topped house, peering blankly into the camera. Hasting Kern, the oldest stone in the family plot, his wife Marybell next to him. And Jesus, there in the midst of them all. Ellie would sometimes catch her mother at the top of the stairs, gazing at the print, her expression blank as Marybell Kern’s. Ellie never knew if the picture offered her comfort, if or it hung there as an act of defiance, a holdover from her life before she found the Victory Chapel. Her mother’s past was never discussed, but it wasn’t a secret she was raised a mainline Christian. An idolater.
In the moment Ellie reached Mount Tabor’s summit and saw the statue of Harvey Scott for the first time, she thought of her mother’s forbidden print. The statue stood a dozen feet high, eyes smoldering, right arm pointing west. Guiding, or commanding— Ellie couldn’t tell. She pulled up short, a trickle of understanding springing up within her. Perhaps her mother’s print served as an anchor to her life before she became a Kern. Perhaps she didn’t see Jesus when she looked at the picture, but rather a glimpse of her own history. And what did Luellen see when she looked up at this stern figure? Did she find a similar anchor in Harvey Scott’s graven image, or did it mean something else to her; a link to a new history in a new land, worlds away from Givern Valley?
A woman sat on a concrete bench below the statue, her back to Ellie. Her dark hair was tied in a knot at her neck. With one pale hand she gently pushed a stroller back and forth in front of her. Ellie moved closer. She heard the woman’s quiet voice singing a wordless lullaby, a tune she faintly recalled across the years from her own childhood, something her mother might have sang to her, or to Myra. She couldn’t name it, but the sound brought up a swelling ache in her chest. She paused and pressed her hand to her breast as if she could force the pain back down again. For a moment she stood there, until the sight of footie-clad baby feet kicking in the stroller, tiny pink hands waving, drew her forward. Trying not to make a sound, Ellie climbed a set of narrow steps from the roadway up to the grassy area at the foot of the statue. A twig snapped under her foot. The woman turned her head. Ellie drew a sharp breath.
“Lu—?”
She stood and smiled, her hand still resting on the stroller’s handle. “Hi, Ellie.”
For a moment Ellie’s sight blurred. “I didn’t know if I would ever find you.”
“I’m glad you made it.”
Ellie felt as though she was standing in a dream. A breeze rushed up the hill behind her, carrying with it the scent of fir resin and water. Somewhere inside her a clock seemed to be ticking down the seconds since she’d fled Hiram through Stuart’s corn. With Luellen’s appearance, unexpected yet hoped for, it ran down to zero and stopped. She lost all strength in her legs, started to slide sideways. Luellen moved quickly to take hold of her, led her to the concrete bench and helped her sit. Her hands fell into her lap. Luellen’s arm curled across her shoulders and pulled her in tight. Ellie lowered her head and leaned against Luellen’s shoulder. She’d made it, Givern to Portland, a step ahead of the storm.
They sat together for a long time without speaking. The only sounds were of the winds pushing through Douglas-fir trees above their heads, the footsteps of runners and dog walkers passing on the summit drive. Ellie listened to the casual chatter of strangers in the park, felt the cool concrete bench against her bottom. After a while, the breeze lifted her hair off her face and she opened her eyes.
“Your note didn’t say much.”
“I was afraid someone would read it.” From the stroller, the baby looked up at her through round, dark eyes. “I just wanted you to know I was coming.”
“Interesting choice of a place to meet.”
“I remembered it from one of your letters.”
“That’s right. I told you how I like this place.” Luellen paused, turned to face Ellie. Her eyebrows gathered together between her eyes. “What happened? Why did you come here?”
Ellie had planned to tell Luellen everything. With Pastor Sanders, she might avoid an outright admission, but Luellen was different. Luellen was her friend, the only island of security in the deep, turbulent sea of her life in Givern Valley. But as she gazed at the baby, she hesitated. She thought about the many brief notes Luellen had sent from Portland, snippets of information appearing almost at random ... rented a mail box ... I’ve moved again ... started a new job ... rented a room in a house near the park ... Taken together, the notes might fill a page or two. None had mentioned a baby.
“Luellen, who is this?”
“His name is Danny.” She licked her lips and shifted on the bench. “He’s my son.”
“Your son.”
“You know,” Ellie felt Luellen’s arm slide off her shoulders, “I haven’t checked that mail box in over a month.”
“You never told me.”
“They called me to tell me I had mail.” As she spoke, her fingers knotted and unknotted in her lap. “They’ve never done that.”
That boy with the strange name. “Raajit.”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Luellen shrugged. “I assumed he was calling because the box was jammed with junk mail and they wanted me to clear it out. But all that was there were your two notes.”
“That was very thoughtful of him.”
“A world first from that place.”
“Lu, why didn’t you tell me about your baby?”
Luellen leaned forward and brushed a wisp of hair off the baby’s forehead. He squirmed at her touch. Danny, she’d called him. Ellie tried to remember the name of Luellen’s college boyfriend, the one who presented nicer than he turned out to be. Not Dan.
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how? You think I don’t understand that people don’t always have their children when they want to?”
“Ellie, please—”
“I get it, Luellen.” Her fingers dug into her palms. “I’m not some backwoods hayseed.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest you were.”
“Then what do you mean?”
Luellen put her hands to her temples. For a moment she held them there, her eyes closed. Then her eyes snapped open and she dropped her hands back in her lap.
“After I got to Portland, one of the first things I did was make an appointment at Planned Parenthood. I wanted to get it out of me.” She stole a glance into Ellie’s eyes. “I suppose that’s a shock to you.”
“I’m not my family, Luellen. I’m not the Little Liver Creek Victory Chapel.”
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
An uneasy silence fell between them. Ellie gazed out over the city to the east. She looked for Mount Hood in the distance, but low clouds clung to the horizon, a reflec
tion of her dark mood.
“How did this happen? You always were the one who said we should pay attention to Lady Latex.”
Luellen attempted a laugh, the sound rueful and tired. “Remember when my mom cornered me on my sixteenth birthday to give me that box of condoms? I thought I would die.”
Ellie managed a wistful smile. Luellen’s mother had always been kind to her, the poor farm girl living among superstitious cavemen without the benefits of civilization. Mrs. Granger often seemed surprised if Ellie said something to indicate the Kerns had running water or electricity.
“You know what’s worse? At my appointment I found out I had chlamydia. Go figure, huh? Me, Miss Safe Sex Klamath County, not just knocked up, but infected.”
“Chlamydia?” The air seemed to evacuate from around her.
“When I heard, a switch must have flipped in my brain. I’d been impregnated, infected, had my life turned upside down. As I sat there in that exam room I decided to hell with him. It was my life and it would be my baby. I told the doctor I wanted to treat the infection and keep the baby.”
“Chlamydia.”
“Like I said. Complicated.”
“Lu, where’s that clinic? Can anyone go?”
“What do you mean?”
“I lost my prescription when I left the house. I couldn’t go back for it. It wasn’t safe.”
“Ellie—”
Ellie’s mind flashed back to the sitting room, the scent of moldy bread, the slap of Stuart’s worm against her cheeks. The clam dip. “He has Stuart’s eyes.” Spoken softly. She reached out and stroked the fat baby cheeks. “Big and round and dark. Danny.”
Luellen went stiff. She seemed to have stopped breathing. Then she sagged. “He started showing up after you lost the baby. He felt guilty, and sad. Angry with his father.” She shook her head. “I should have made him go away. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
Ellie felt suddenly cold. She lifted her head, saw the clouds had moved closer from the east, heavier and darker. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at Luellen’s baby. Stuart’s baby.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
“Stuart finds his own way.” Her words carried the flat inflection of a machine voice. “He moves with the same drive that sends salmon upstream to spawn, and with just about the same self-reflection.”
“I should have known better.”
“You always liked him.”
“That’s no excuse.”
Ellie had no response. It was true. But after everything else that had happened, Luellen’s betrayal seemed almost trifling. And Stuart, ... Stuart got what he wanted, if only he’d known. And where would she be if he had? Who would she be, which new Ellie? She didn’t know whether to feel angry or devastated or ... relieved.
“Ellie, I know what you must be thinking—”
“How could you ever begin to guess what I think?”
“You’re right. I can’t. Not really.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway.” She wondered how much of Stuart survived in his son. “He’s dead. I killed him.”
Luellen gasped and her hand leapt to her mouth, but before she could speak, a sound drew their attention. A harsh voice.
“Well, look at that. Stuart’s bitch and another one of Stuart’s bitches. A two-for-one special.”
Deputy G strode out from behind the statue of Harvey Scott, his big round face smug and leering. His hands were in his jacket pockets, but when Ellie met his eyes he grinned. Pulled a revolver out of his right pocket. He let the gun hang there for a moment, then raised it and pointed between Ellie’s eyes. “You thinking of rabbiting, dollface, think again. I lost whatever patience I might have had down at the bottom of the hill.”
November 19 - 4:21 pm
Man Comes Out of the Trees
Big Ed and Myra don’t seem too worried someone might come along and see me all trussed up in the back seat of the Caddy. I guess I should be grateful they haven’t gagged and blindfolded me—or put bullet in my brain. Ed gets out of the car, stretches his arms over his head. His mouth moves. “Long day.” Silent, but I can see the shapes of the words on his lips.
“Ed, I’m asking you one more time—”
Myra twists around in the front seat, her face a mask of wrath. “You can just shut the fuck up!”
But Big Ed is less fervent. He smiles sadly and shakes his head, seems to think a moment. Juggles the electrolarynx in his hand before pocketing it. Then he shuts the door and comes around to my side. He checks the cord on my wrists and feet, satisfies himself I’m not going anywhere. As if his crank-addled crone in the front seat isn’t enough. I’m thinking I need at least ten minutes to get loose, but Myra shows no signs of joining him. He shuts my door, goes around to Danny’s side, motions him out.
“Danny, don’t go. Stay here with me.”
Myra slaps me. “Christ, Ed. Just kill the fucker!” I glare at her.
Big Ed looks me over like he’s considering it, but then he shakes a finger and sorta laughs, the sound a moist jangle. I wonder if he resists the idea only because she suggested it, so palpable is his ambivalence toward her. He lifts the larynx.
“A body is the last thing we need. You know the rules. He will keep till we are done, then he will not matter anymore.” He hands her his cell phone. “We will call you when it is over.” With that, he leans through the open car door over Danny and cracks me, hard, across the jaw. The little guy makes a noise, a startled chirp, as I collapse. The pain is a swarm of black gnats churned up before my eyes. I tilt my head, try to speak, but my tongue fills my mouth like a wet rag. Ed hits me again. I taste metal and the swarm fills my vision until all I see is a curtain of dark points.
I feel rather than see him take Danny out of the car. The sound of my breath thunders in my ears, but I hear other sounds as well. Myra wheezing, Ed and Danny’s footsteps outside the car, the splat of saliva from my mouth onto the leather seat. I blink and the swarm vaporizes. I manage to focus on my bound wrists for a long moment. “Ed ... goddamn it ... please.” I’m not sure if I’ve spoken aloud or only in my mind.
The car doors are closed, windows up. I’m trapped in a cage with a creature possessed of all the wiry strength and fury of a longtime meth addict. Through the half-fogged glass I see him walking away, Danny’s tiny hand engulfed in his great paw. I sag, helpless. Susan, find me. Or, hell, not me. I don’t matter. Find Danny. My mind fills with a sudden image of Ruby Jane, her hair smelling of apples, her blue eyes gazing at me across the table at Uncommon Cup. You can call me tonight. I know I will never see her again, will never get to finish what we started in the glimmer of the fish tank. Myra glowers at me across the back of the seat. Her cheeks are sunken and dark, her teeth cracked and brown behind her thin, chapped lips. Her face tells me the only reason I’m alive is because Big Ed is still within earshot.
Down the hill, I glimpse a flash of color, blue against evergreen and bark. Myra’s head pivots with my own. A man comes out of the trees a dozen paces from Big Ed and the boy. I pull against my bonds, press against the window. The light is steely and grey, colors shifting and uncertain, but I feel like I recognize him. Red-brown hair, blue pants and jacket. He crosses the path, stops in front of Big Ed. Myra gasps, and I steal a glance her way. She slaps both hands against the window, and her mouth is working, working. “Can’t be, can’t be, can’t be.” I turn back to Ed and the stranger, wondering what she sees, what she knows. The two are a study in contrasts, Ed a side of beef, the stranger muscular but small, almost child-like. They both hesitate and I wonder if this is the person Ed is here to see. Yet the encounter has the feel of happenstance, Ed’s posture uncertain after an afternoon of unrelenting determination. He starts to lift his electrolarynx, but at that moment the man reaches up and grabs him on either side of the head. Ed releases Danny’s hand and lunges backward, without effect. Myra shrieks as the man yanks and twists and throws Ed face-first to the ground. I can see the effort in Ed’s t
aut arms and straining back, but it’s as if he has no strength, as if he’s the one with the stature of a boy. Danny backs away from the struggle. Ed flails, tries to push himself up on his hands. Myra slaps at the door, the car window, her ululating cries impotent. As I watch, the stranger in blue drops with all his weight, slams his knee into the back of Ed’s neck. I can almost hear the pop. Ed’s limbs flop. Even from here, a hundred feet away, I can see the unnatural twist of his neck.
The stranger stands with apparent deliberation, his gaze fixed on Ed’s unmoving form. He doesn’t seem to notice as Danny runs off. At that moment, I find my voice, my real voice, or maybe I found it earlier. All I know is now I can hear myself screaming, as loud or louder than Myra. Beating my bound hands against the seat back in front of me. The man turns to face the car and in a heartbeat I go quiet.
For a moment he’s motionless, his gaze fixed on me, or Myra, or the car, or—I don’t know. I feel like I should know him, but I don’t want to know him. I want him to go away, to never have been. I don’t know where Big Ed was taking Danny, who he was taking him to, but while I’m sure it was not for Danny’s benefit, this is not the way I would have interrupted Ed’s plan. This stranger out of the trees, dressed in dusty, mud-stained blue, eyes deep points of shadow in a slack, incurious face. He looks around, his head swiveling on his neck like an owl’s. As he rotates his gaze around to his left, I see a strange darkness on the right side of his head. It takes me moment before I realize a divot is missing from his skull, an oval as deep as my fist.
