He puts down his silverware and looks directly at Bee. “I left myself somewhere,” he says.
She gets up and comes to stand behind him. “Looks like I found you.” Her voice is suddenly deeper than it was. Harsher. He feels something cold and hard poking into his neck.
“Put your hands on your head,” the voice says, definitely not Bee's now. He tries to turn around but feels sharpness pressing down on his neck and does what the voice asks. “Now stand up and turn around.”
“Let up, then,” he says.
When the pressure on his neck eases he stands up slowly and swivels around. It's the woman from the snapshot. Same grey hair. Same frown. The only difference is she's aiming a hunting rifle at him instead of brandishing a soup ladle like she did in the picture.
“Walk backward to the sink,” she says. He does what she asks again. It doesn't appear he has a choice. “Now explain to me what you're doing in my house.”
“You're not Bee,” he says.
She takes the question in. “Obviously. Bee's my daughter. How do you know her?” She pokes him in the shoulder with her rifle.
“I saw her picture,” he says. “She's beautiful.”
“You figured that out did you?” She pokes him again. “You and every other boy who gets a look at her. Tell me what you're doing here.”
“Virgil brought me,” he says.
“He would. And I suppose he showed you how to break in?”
“He said it would be all right.” The woman's eyes are as grey as her hair. So far they seem human but he knows he'll have to be careful. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot,” she says. She doesn't seem like the kind of person who would try to be funny.
“Are you really here? I mean, you're alive and actually in this room?”
“You'd better believe I'm here!”
“So you'd shoot me if I put my arms down? Because I don't think I'm violent and it's uncomfortable holding them over my head like this.”
“Put them down then. But I warn you, I brought this gun along because the fire's got the animals all stirred up. I thought I might meet up with a bear or a mountain lion. But I can shoot you instead, if I have to.”
“Okay,” he says. He rubs his arms to get the circulation going.
The woman motions toward the living room. “Come over to the window so I can see your face better.” She keeps a bead on him as he moves, then scrutinizes his face in the murky light coming through the window.
“I know you,” she says. “You're the greenhorn who ran off from New Mountain. My God, what's happened to you? You look like hell.”
“Greenhorn?” he says.
“New kid. New planter. The only thing I ever heard you called was Useless. What's your real name?”
“I lost it.” He rubs his eyes, but it's just to keep her from looking at him. She may be able to read his mind.
“Sit down,” the woman tells him. She points to a chair with her rifle. “You don't remember me, do you? I was the cook for your crew.” He doesn't say anything. “The Green Mountain Company? Tree planters?” He still doesn't respond. “Did you get hit on the head or something?”
“This is a ghost town,” he says.
“That's why I picked it. Ghosts don't bother me. Or my girls, but people can.”
She gets up and looks out the window. A chipmunk runs back and forth across the deck twice before she speaks again. “Well, I can't stand around here all day talking, delighted as I am with your conversation.
“The fire's bad across the lake. They've evacuated the village. I just came by to check on my house and get a few things. Then I'm going on to my mother's in Kingman to make sure my girls are safe.
“I suppose I'll have to take you with me and leave you with the police there.” She stands looking at him with her weight on one hip and the gun resting in the crook of her arm.
Dan stays in the chair while she tapes cardboard over the broken glass in the door. “I've left my truck up on the forestry road,” she says. “It's a little hike from here and you look like you're about to drop, but you'll have to walk it. I'm not carrying you.”
When she leaves to take a load up to the truck, she says, “Just wait here. I'll be back. I have some sandwiches in the truck I'll bring you. But leave my stuff alone.”
“Okay,” he says. Then as soon as she's gone he climbs up into the rocks behind the cabin and hides.
W
HEN THE WOMAN GETS BACKSHE WALKS
the trails close by and shouts out the only name she has for him. “Useless! Useless!” When she can't find him, she leaves.
He waits an hour or so before he ventures cautiously out from his hiding place. He thinks he may need to use it again if someone else comes, so he looks carefully at the markings on the lichen-covered rocks nearby.
“X,” he says out loud. “You mark this spot.” Laughter begins down in his belly. He feels it cutting its way up and out of his mouth. It makes him weep, until he laughs again. After that he loses track.
W
HEN YOU CAME IN TO THE
city from the wild fire area you were supposed to register at Kingman Regional High School, which was the main evacuation centre. We did that, otherwise Search and Rescue would think we were lost and they'd send someone out on a wild-goose chase looking for us.
Personally I didn't care if they went out or not, but then I didn't care about much.
Mrs. Stoa though, seemed to care about everything. First she didn't want to be crowded in to the high school where she wouldn't have any privacy at night. She wanted to stay with her nephew who lived in town. She was sure he'd want to take us all in. But he wasn't home when we went to his house so she left a message on his door.
Then we went back to the school and straight into the gym where someone had hung a hand painted banner with “Welcome Evacs,” on it right above the Kingman Lords sign, which was professionally made and permanent. She didn't have any better luck there. There wasn't any such thing as a private section for retired English teachers.
“I feel this is inappropriate for a woman my age,” she told some woman who was working her butt off setting up cots and probably could have cared less.
As for me, I didn't feel anything at all.
When we checked in at the high school Mrs. Stoa and I got a bottle of water and a gift bag with soap, shampoo, and toothpaste in it, as well as a toothbrush with the name of a local dentist printed in gold on the handle and a meal ticket for breakfasts and light suppers in the cafeteria.
We also got a pass we could use to ride the Number One bus in and out of town as much as we wanted. I'd never ridden a bus before, so I didn't realize then what a lifesaver that would be.
Marsh didn't take the gift bag. He said there was no way he could sleep inside with that many people around or even eat inside for that matter. “I've got my truck in the parking lot,” he said. “I'll be there if you need me.”
“Don't hold your breath,” I said.
People trickled in all day from little mountain settlements like Four Mule Creek, Buckley Falls and Gumption. They were families mostly with their kids and pets and whatever else they'd had time to load up. A few old mountain men straggled in with long hair and beards.
One of them looked like the old guy who stood outside school and told me I was going to hell. He paced up and down the halls shouting about something called
The Rapture
. “Repent!” he kept saying. “The Rapture is upon us.”
I thought he'd wear down but by bed time there were fifty or sixty of us trying to settle down on the cots the Red Cross had brought in and he was still going loud enough to scare little kids and make them cry.
Finally a couple of policemen led him away somewhere.
Even without him it wasn't easy to sleep. People were up and down to the bathroom all night, especially Mrs. Stoa. She made a lot of noise getting her legs over the wooden edge of her cot and more noise getting her feet down on to the floor.
People cried, and not just little kids, either. Big kids like me. Lots of adults, too. Even men. There was coughing. And whispering.
Of course I made noise myself. It was embarrassing for me, but there was no way I could get away on my own with all those people around. I put a blanket over my head until I got claustrophobic and had to take it off again.
The only ones who fell asleep right away were the snorers. That meant that the rest â the ones who might have gone to sleep if they were allowed to â didn't have a chance. Speaking for myself, I didn't get one wink.
In the morning, I was tired and wired â a T. W. to go with the T. S. I already had. I could barely breathe for all the people.
We lined up to use the bathroom and get breakfast in the cafeteria â even to take a drink from the drinking fountain, or to try and get close enough to watch what they were saying about the fire on a TV monitor in the school library.
People also lined up to read the rows of messages that were posted out in front.
Stephanie Parkinson
, as an example.
5 feet
six inches tall. Blond. Blue eyes. 19 years old. Last seen at the east
gate of Blackstone Wilderness. Contact Kingman Police Services.
Urgent. Please phone 434-FIRE
. That was a line set up to deal with calls about people the fire had run out.
I didn't spend any time at the message board myself. There was one waiting for us from Frank when we registered saying he was safe and he'd join us as soon as he could.
I didn't expect a message from the only other person I was worried about. As far as I knew he was dead.
All I really thought about was getting away. It turned out to be easy to do that. I just walked out the door of the high school without telling anybody where I was going, flashed my bus pass at the driver and got on the Number One. I rode it back and forth most of the day so I could get accustomed to public transportation.
I picked a seat at the back of the bus and made it my new front porch swing. If anybody even looked like they wanted to sit down next to me, I glared at them and muttered things under my breath.
I'd definitely be a bus rider if I lived in a city, I think. It's relaxing and a great way to see the world.
I
T WAS ALMOST SUPPER TIME WHEN
I got back home â if you can use that word about a gymnasium. Marsh was hunkered down on the front steps and Mrs. Stoa was sitting in an aluminum fold-up chair on the lawn close by, smack in the middle of a little kids' Frisbee game. Marsh got up and walked toward me. “Matti,” he said, but I held out my hand and shook my head at him.
“No!” I said.
He turned his face away like I had slapped him and kept on walking out to the street. Then he lit up a cigarette. He promised me he'd quit, so that gave me another reason to be pissed off at him.
Mrs. Stoa got up out of her chair like the metal frame was on fire when she saw me and made a bead in my direction. “Young lady!” she said. “Marshall has been driving around looking everywhere for you and worried sick. You don't know what he's going through.”
“I also don't care,” I said.
She actually gasped. “If your father were here,” she said, “I'd suggest he ground you.”
“Well, he isn't.”
Mrs. Stoa stood up as tall as she could which still barely brought her up to my shoulder. “Then I'll have to do it myself.”
I admit she surprised me. “You will?” I said.
“Someone has to.”
What was I supposed to do after that? She was standing right in front of me. I couldn't just push her out of the way. Her bones might snap or something. Anyway I kind of admired how she didn't back down.
“You really can't do that, Mrs. Stoa,” I said. “Only Frank can ground me. And as we both know, he isn't here. Excuse me, please.” I stepped around her and went up the steps and into the school.
I wasn't looking forward to eating with Mrs. Stoa, but someone had apparently listened to her complaints I guess and had set up a special table in the cafeteria for senior citizens. That took care of the problem.
The high school girls who waited on that table treated her like a queen. They carried her tray for her. They even found her a little booster cushion to put in her chair.
Those girls were all dazzlingly beautiful. They wore maroon shorts and T-shirts with
Lords
written across their chests in gold. Most of them had long hair. All of them had long legs â long eyelashes and fingernails too I'll bet, if you saw them up close.
There was one girl I couldn't keep from staring at. Her hair was gold and shiny and it stood out around her head in curls like a halo. Her teeth were so white that when she smiled it made my eyes water.
“They're the school cheerleaders,” someone near me said. “Aren't they wonderful?” It wasn't someone I knew so I didn't feel like I could ask what the exact purpose of a cheerleader was but I did agree they were wonderful in every way I could think of.
When I got on the bus the next day, the driver said, “I'll have to charge you rent, Miss, if you don't start getting off now and then.”
“Is there some kind of law about that?” I asked. How was I supposed to know he was kidding?
“No law,” the driver said. “I thought you might be bored.”
“Like, where would I get off and go to if I was?” I asked him. A guy behind me with a briefcase was in a toot to get on the bus but the driver stayed cool.
“You drink coffee?” he asked me.
I wasn't supposed to drink coffee so I'd actually never tried it, but I was flattered he thought I was old enough. I said, “Sure.”