by Cathy Ace
‘Will that hold you?’ asked Dave, as Zack handed him the empty wrappers.
Zack grunted.
Dave added, ‘And what do you expect me to do with these?’ He was referring to the wrappers Zack had handed him.
‘I dunno,’ replied Zack, clearly not caring.
‘Put them in the cabin, then let’s go for a row about,’ said Dave.
Zack grunted again, took the wrappers from his father’s hand as though they were covered in acid, and made his way toward the cabin.
‘Will it be okay to leave it all open like that?’ asked Becky, nodding at the cabin. ‘I’ve got important personal items in there, you know.’
Dave smiled at his teenage daughter, thinking how she was like her mother. Dave and Debbie had known each other since fifth grade; sometimes the way Becky moved, or flicked her shoulder-length brown hair, reminded him of Debbie at that age. But that Debbie was gone – she’d been replaced by a nagging, list-making, penny-pinching woman who always put the kids first and never seemed to have time for Dave . . . at least, not since the kids had been born.
Dave missed the old Debbie; she’d been his best friend. Now she was like his own mom; for years before their separation Debbie had treated him as though he were her third child, and he didn’t need another mother – he wanted a wife.
‘It’ll be fine,’ was Dave’s far-away reply to his daughter’s question. ‘No one comes up here – it’s like a little secret cove. You saw how careful Mike had to be to get here, all that twisting and winding around the little islands and that big sandbank? And you can only get here by boat, so we’d see anyone coming. Your stuff will be just fine in the cabin.’ He winked at her, and she smiled back.
‘Da-ad?’ Zack called.
‘Yes, Zack.’
‘Shall I bring some water?’
‘Yes, Zack.’
‘Okay.’
Zack returned with three bottles of water.
‘Let’s get going,’ said Dave, impatient to get out onto the glassy lake. He settled the children into one end of the boat, with strict instructions that there was to be no messing about, and pushed it out into the surprisingly icy waters.
A few fumbles with the oars and he was rowing; maybe he wasn’t all that efficient, but they were moving away from the shore quite satisfactorily. About five minutes later they’d left the shade of the tree-covered hillside that climbed behind the cabin, and were out in the hot sun of the late morning.
‘I should have worn sunscreen,’ said Becky in a concerned voice. ‘And so should you, Zack. You know how you burn.’
Dave could have kicked himself; Zack only had to see the sun to burn, he knew that. Why hadn’t he thought of sunscreen for his boy?
‘We won’t be out in it for long, don’t worry, it’ll be fine,’ said Dave, hoping it would be. ‘Look, isn’t it beautiful?’
He nodded his head toward the shore they’d just left, and the surrounding mountains; the cabin stood behind a small, rocky beach, set into a low-lying area of brush. Above it soared magnificent cedar-cloaked mountains; there were trees as far as the eye could see, in every direction.
‘There’s nothing here,’ said Zack.
Ahead of him, Dave could see the buoy Mike had told him about; apparently it marked a safe place to swim.
‘We’ll tie up in a minute and you can both jump in,’ said Dave, trying to be cheerful.
‘It’s too cold,’ said Becky, dangling her hand in the water.
‘Can I take this off?’ asked Zack, pulling at his life vest.
‘No, keep it on out here,’ said Dave, keen to fulfil his fatherly duties.
‘Oh Da-ad,’ whined his son.
‘No arguments, Zack. I know you’re a good swimmer, but you can’t be too careful.’
‘But I can’t dive with this on.’
‘Zack!’
Zack grunted.
‘Look, Dad, there’s a hat in the water,’ said Becky, pointing to a ball cap that was floating close to the buoy.
‘I bet there’s a head in it,’ said Zack, mocking his little sister.
‘Shut up,’ snapped Becky.
‘Shut up yourself,’ said Zack, splashing Becky with the chilly water.
‘Stop it you two,’ shouted Dave, trying his best to tie the boat to the bobbing buoy.
‘Get the hat, Dad, see if there’s a head in it,’ shouted Zack joyfully.
‘You can’t do that – you don’t know where it’s been,’ replied Becky, chiding her brother.
‘It’s been in the lake, stupid,’ retorted Zack.
‘I’ve told you two already – stop it, or it’s straight back to the cabin, right now,’ said Dave, already exasperated. ‘And leave that cap where it is, Zack, your sister’s right; you don’t know where it’s been.’
Vindicated, Becky poked out her tongue at her brother, who’d already lost interest in the cap and was pointing to something else floating nearby.
‘Look, Dad, there’s that too,’ said Zack, pointing at what seemed to be a white rubber glove.
Dave peered at it, and wondered where it could have come from. As it floated closer he got a better look at it. He felt his stomach tighten; he could see fingernails.
Gloves didn’t have fingernails; hands had fingernails.
Dave was still grappling with that thought when Zack shouted, ‘Get the glove, Dad – maybe there’s a hand in it!’ He waggled his own wet hand in his sister’s face, making her squirm and squeal.
‘Right, that’s it,’ snapped Dave, loosening the rope, ‘we’re going back to the cabin now, and we’re not coming back out in this boat again.’
He started to row away from what he was now quite convinced was a floating, dismembered hand as quickly as he could. He was pretty sure the kids hadn’t seen the fingernails, and he was working hard to convince himself he hadn’t seen them either. It couldn’t possibly be a real hand; he’d get them all back to the shore, and everything would be just fine.
They reached the little beach safely, then Becky busied herself helping prepare an early lunch, while Zack complained about his dad not letting him jump off the pier anymore. Dave couldn’t tell him it was because he was afraid there was a human hand floating around out there, so he said it was because the water was too cold.
The food shut Zack up, eventually, then they all cleared everything away, which Becky assured them would deter bears.
Slathering the children with sunscreen to protect them from the searing July sun now directly overhead, Dave proudly announced they were going to have a beachcombing challenge; he’d typed up a list of things they had to find and bring to him in buckets he’d also provided – the winner would get a candy bar. He felt proud that he’d remembered to print out two lists, and pack the buckets and candy. Dave watched as Becky carefully read the list, then began to scurry about. Zack trudged away, kicking stones and muttering.
‘Don’t go off the beach into the brush – stay where I can see you,’ called Dave to Zack as he wandered off.
‘So how am I going to find a pinecone on the beach?’ asked Zack, as if his father were a complete idiot.
‘I’ve found one,’ was Becky’s smug reply; she held a massive pinecone aloft.
‘There’ll be lots of them, Zack,’ replied Dave. ‘Use your eyes – don’t just wander along kicking the stones.’
‘This is so boring,’ muttered Zack, loudly enough so that Dave could hear him.
‘Well your sister’s doing better than you, so if you want that candy bar you’d better start paying attention,’ was Dave’s tart response. Clearly bribery was the only thing that was going to work with his son.
The day wasn’t going quite as Dave had hoped it would – but at least he’d managed to convince himself that the ‘hand’ he’d seen was a leftover from one of the movies or TV shows they filmed in the area. It was probably just part of a dummy they’d left lying around, like those fake ‘Jaws’ sharks they’d lost out at sea when they were making that movie;
he’d learned about that when they’d all visited Universal Studios a few years back.
And it was such a lovely day – the kids would enjoy all the fresh air. He planned an expedition to the tree house after the beachcombing challenge; he’d brought binoculars so they could climb up and watch the bald eagles soar above them. They’d like that.
Then he heard it.
It was the most dreadful sound Dave had heard in his life.
It was the sound of his usually grunting, constantly bored, fifteen-year-old son screaming in abject terror.
Even Becky instinctively seemed to know that her brother wasn’t messing about, and her little face showed her own silent fright as she turned to her dad.
‘Stay there, don’t move,’ was all Dave could manage to say to Becky as he ran toward his son, who was, in turn, running toward his father; Zack’s stick-thin arms and legs were flailing, his treasure-bucket and his beachcombing list went flying behind him.
‘Zack – Zack, what is it?’
Zack looked as terrified as he sounded. ‘Dad – there’s a dead body.’
Dave didn’t have to ask if his son was kidding around. He reached out and hugged him as though he were an infant, and Zack let him.
‘It’s okay,’ he whispered into his son’s ear, rocking him gently, ‘I’ll go look. You go see if your little sister’s alright.’ He looked into his son’s frightened eyes; the poor boy was shaking. ‘Go on now – it’ll be fine.’ He watched as the siblings ran toward each other.
Dave walked over to where Zack had been when he’d screamed. Behind a boulder was the gruesome sight Zack had seen; it was what was left of a man – the face had gone, and a bloody mess was all that remained. There were no hands, nor feet. He was naked. It was truly horrific.
Dave felt his gut cramp. Poor Zack; he shouldn’t have to see something like that – not at his age. Never.
Horrific though the sight before him was, Dave couldn’t seem to take his eyes off it. For a moment he thought that this, like the hand, might be some sort of dummy left over from a movie shoot. But, as the flies that had been disturbed by his arrival began to settle again on the remains, Dave knew in his heart it was real.
This had once been a person.
Poor Zack.
Dave finally managed to make his body listen to his brain, and he turned to look at his children; they were standing together, their arms around each other. Becky looked tiny beside her tall, weedy brother, but she seemed to be the one doing the comforting. Dave had to do something himself – he knew that, but he didn’t know what.
He’d been planning a bonding weekend in the stunning wilderness; now his son would probably be psychologically scarred for life. He wondered what Debbie would say, then realized that, somehow, this would turn out to be his fault. What if she never let him see the kids again?
‘Dad, is it really a dead body?’ called Becky, obviously not sure if her brother was just making it all up – or maybe hoping he was.
‘Yes, it’s a dead body,’ replied Dave, deciding it was best to tell the truth. He took one last look at the thing, and walked toward his children. ‘I think we should just leave it where it is, and try to forget about it; we’ll sort it all out when Mike comes back tomorrow. It’ll be fine, kids, honest.’
‘Well, it won’t be fine for the person who’s dead,’ replied Becky, in a very grown-up tone. ‘Do you think he was murdered?’
Dave was stunned.
Zack snapped, ‘Of course he was murdered – I told you – they’ve blown his face away and cut off his hands and feet. You can’t do that to yourself.’ Dave was amazed that Zack seemed to have overcome his initial horror; Dave hadn’t.
‘So whoever did it has tried to hide his identity,’ replied Becky, quite calmly.
Dave was beginning to wonder if he’d slipped into a different dimension; why were his kids so calm? Why were they acting as though it was the most natural thing in the world to find a dead body – and a mutilated one at that – when you were camping in the wilderness?
‘You both seem to be taking this very . . . well,’ muttered Dave, not sure what else to say. Of course he was glad they’d managed to pull themselves together, but this reaction was puzzling – worrying even.
Both Becky and Zack looked surprised.
‘Dad, we’re not little kids, you know,’ replied Becky. ‘I helped cut up a frog in science last year, and Zack’s seen a dead body before – haven’t you?’ For once, Becky seemed quite impressed with her brother.
‘Yeah,’ said Zack, with a swagger, ‘Pete at school – his gran died, and I got to touch her face and her hand at the wake at his house. She smelled a bit funny, but it was okay.’
Were these really his children? Dave found it hard to believe.
‘So you’re both okay – you’re not . . . upset?’ said Dave quietly, now by their side; he was the adult – he had to be sure.
‘Yeah.’ They answered him as if he’d been mad to ask. Becky even ‘tutted’ at him, as though he were the one to be pitied.
‘Good. I mean . . . I’m glad you’re okay.’ Dave was relieved, but still concerned about their attitude.
‘Dad, you know that glove in the lake, and the ball-cap?’ asked Becky.
‘Yes,’ replied Dave, worrying about what might come next.
‘Well, they might belong to him.’ Becky pointed toward the hidden body.
‘They might,’ conceded Dave.
‘So they could be evidence; I think we should collect them. They could float away and never be found, and that might compromise the investigation into this man’s death.’
Dave was now totally convinced that his daughter had been spirited away and replaced by an alien.
‘Where on earth did you learn to speak – and think – like that?’ asked Dave, blown away by his daughter’s calm maturity.
‘She’s always watching cop shows with Mom,’ replied Zack on behalf of his sister. ‘I think they’re pretty crappy – but some of them have good dead bodies in them. I like the ones with lots of autopsies when the corpses are all wide open. They’re the best.’
Dave watched some TV, but not as much as he’d once done; nowadays he preferred a cold one after work with his buddies, and by the time he got home he’d usually hit the sack right away, because getting up at five a.m. to get a ride to his construction job took it out of him. But, even so, he couldn’t imagine that just watching TV could change his daughter so much.
‘Come on, Dad – it might be important,’ said Becky, sounding excited. ‘This could be my big chance; Miss Gilmore at school says I’m good at science. I could make a career of it. This could get me noticed.’
Dave was nonplussed; he’d been worried that his kids would be traumatized for life by finding a dead body, and all his little girl could think of was a career plan.
‘I don’t think we should go messing around with any of it, and that’s that,’ said Dave, with all the authority he could muster.
‘She’s right, Dad,’ piped up Zack, ‘the hat and the glove could be important.’
‘You can tell whoever killed him wanted to hide his identity,’ announced Becky. ‘Zack said the body had no hands or feet and the face was gone – that way there’d be no fingerprints or dental remnants, so the police might never know who he is. Maybe there’s a clue in the hat, or the glove. Hey, Dad, what if there was a hand inside the glove? Then there’d be fingerprints – it could break the case wide open.’ Becky’s face lit up as she thought of this grisly possibility.
Dave wondered about telling them the ‘glove’ had fingernails, but then reckoned he’d have to go out and retrieve the blessed thing, and he wasn’t doing that. No way.
‘Listen, kids, I think we need to forget about the body,’ said Dave in his most fatherly voice. Both of his children looked at him as though he were the dumbest person on the face of the planet.
‘What do you mean, forget about it? It’s right there,’ shouted Zack, pointing to where the body la
y.
‘Yes, Dad,’ added Becky, ‘that’s just not possible. We can stay away from it, sure, if that makes you feel better, but we should look around for clues to help the cops when they get here. You are going to call them, aren’t you?’
Dave was astonished he hadn’t thought of that himself.
‘Of course I’m going to call them,’ was his somewhat terse reply. ‘In fact, I’m going to do that right now.’
‘You can’t,’ said Zack sounding cocky.
‘Why not?’ snapped Dave.
‘Because there’s no signal out here, I already tried,’ replied Zack.
‘You’ve tried calling the cops already?’ Dave was annoyed with his son.
‘No,’ Zack sounded as if he was answering a buffoon, ‘I tried calling a couple of the guys from school, and there’s no signal here.’
‘Why would you want to call anyone from school?’ Dave was mystified.
‘Because I just found a dead body with no face. It’s so cool. I wanted to tell them, and I’d like to take some photos. I bet they’d wish they were here.’
Dave shook his head in disbelief, not at the possible lack of a signal – he’d already considered that – but at how Zack could be so cold-blooded about the whole matter. It seemed as though all he wanted to do was show off, while his little sister wanted to act like someone on a TV crime show. Dave supposed he should be grateful they weren’t both crying and screaming about the grisly discovery, but he was still concerned that the horror of the circumstances had yet to dawn on them.
He checked his phone – but his son was right, there was no signal. Dave wandered around a bit, hoping the little bars would appear on the phone’s screen, but to no avail.
‘There might be a chance of a signal out on the lake,’ suggested Becky. ‘You’d be further away from the mountains out there. Shall we try?’
Dave thought his daughter made a good point, but then they’d be closer to the floating hand. He didn’t like that idea.
