JACK KILBORN ~ AFRAID (39 page)

“Ain’t got no balls, white boy?”

“You go then, Meadow.”

“Hells no. At this particular time, Laneesha be holding my balls.”

Laneesha rolled her eyes and stood up. “Y’all are cowards. C’mon, Sara. We’ll go find him.”

Sara blew out the breath she’d been holding, surprised by how grateful she was for the girl’s offer. “There’s a flashlight in one of the packs. I’ll find it.”

She walked over to her tent and ducked inside. It was dim, but the fire provided enough illumination to look around. Sara cast a wistful glance at the double sleeping bag. She tugged her eyes away, then located the backpack. Pawing through the contents, she removed a canteen, a first-aid kit, some wool socks, a bottle of Goniosol medication, a hunting knife, the papers …

Sara squinted at them, staring at the bottom of the last page. It was unsigned. Irritated, she shoved them back in. She eventually dug out the Maglite, pressing the button on the handle. The light came on. It was yellowish and weak—which annoyed Sara even more because she told Martin to buy new batteries.

Putting the papers out of her mind for the time being, she left the tent and joined Laneesha, who was staring into the woods where Martin disappeared.

“If you see any cannibals,” Tom said to their backs, “don’t tell him we’re here.”

“Y’all are weak,” Laneesha said.

Sara eyed her, normally cocky and busting with attitude, and saw uncertainty all over the girl’s face.

“The story was fake, Laneesha.”

“That Plincer cat ain’t real?”

“He might be real. The name is familiar. But the way to make campfire stories sound believable is to mix a little truth with the lies.”

“How ’bout all them cannibal soldiers, eating people?”

“Even if that was true, and it wasn’t, it happened over a hundred and forty years ago. They’d all be long dead.”

“So Martin just joshin’?”

“He’s probably just waiting to jump out and scare us,” Sara said.

“Prolly. That’d suck, but be better than someone grabbing him.”

Sara raised an eyebrow. That possibility was so far out she hadn’t even considered it. “Did you see someone grab him?”

“It was dark, ’n’ he was right in front of that bush. Thought maybe I seen somethin’, but prolly just my mind playing tricks ’n’ shit.”

Now Sara was
really
reluctant to go into the woods. She knew the Confederate story was BS, but wondered if perhaps someone else was on the island.

That’s crazy,
Sara thought.
There’s no one here but us.

There were over a hundred of these islands on Lake Huron, from the size of a football field up to thousands of acres. This was one of the big ones, a supposed wildlife refuge. But there was no electricity, and it was too far from the mainland for there to be anyone living here.

Other campers?

Sara reminded herself to be rational. Occam’s Razor. The simplest solution was usually the right one. Martin joking around made much more sense than unknown habitants, or coincidental campers, or old Warden Plincer and his imaginary gang of southern maniacs.

Still, they did have that radio the boat captain gave them. Sara wondered if her husband goofing off qualified as an emergency, because she was almost ready to contact the captain and beg him to return.

“Let’s do this,” Laneesha said.

Sara nodded. Practically hip to hip, the women walked around the bushes and stepped into the thick of the woods.

When they’d hiked to the clearing earlier that afternoon, the woods had been dark. There were so many trees the canopy blocked out most of the sun. Now, at midnight, it was darker than anything Sara had ever experienced. The blackness enveloped them, thick as ink, and the fading Maglite barely pierced it more than a few yards.

“Be easy getting lost out here,” Laneesha said.

Sara played the light across the trees, looking for the red ribbon. They’d tied dozens of ribbons around trunks, in a line leading from the campsite to the shore, so anyone who got lost could find their way back. But in this total darkness every tree looked the same, and she couldn’t find a single ribbon. Sara had a very real fear that if they traveled too far into the woods, they wouldn’t be able to find their way back to the rest of the group. After only a dozen steps she could no longer see the campfire behind them.

“Tyrone, Cindy, can you guys hear me?” she called out.

“We hear you! You find any cannibals yet?”

Neither Sara nor Laneesha shared in the ensuing chuckles. They trekked onward, dead leaves and branches crunching underfoot, an owl hooting somewhere in the distance.

Sara had always been ambivalent about camping, having only gone a few times in her life. But now she realized she hated it. Hated camping, hated the woods, and hated the dark.

But she had hated the dark for a very long time. And with damn good reason.

“Martin,” Sara said, projecting into the woods, “this isn’t funny. It’s stupid, and dangerous.”

She waited for a reply.

No reply came.

“I like Martin,” Laneesha said, “but fuck ’em. I’m a city girl. I don’t do creeping ’round the forest at night. This is a total bad idea.”

Sara agreed. There was no hole or trench around here he could have fallen into, and if Martin hit his head he’d be lying nearby.

Still, if this was a prank, it was being taken too far. It wasn’t funny anymore. It was just plain mean.

And then Sara understood what was happening, and she felt her face flush.

Her husband was doing this because he was angry.

Is this how it’s going to be?
Sara thought.
Rather than act like the caring adult she fell in love with, he’s going to start behaving like a jerk?

Well, two could play that game.

“You can stay out there!” she yelled.

Her voice echoed through the trees, fading and dying. Then …

“elll …”

The sound was faint, coming from far ahead of them.

“Wassat Martin?” Laneesha asked.

Sara squinted, crinkling her nose. “I’m not sure. Could have been an animal.”

“Sounded like
help.
Know any animals that call for help?”

“Martin!” Sara shouted into the trees.

There was no answer. Laneesha moved closer to Sara, so close Sara could feel the girl shivering.

“We should go back.”

“What if it’s Martin? He could need help.”

“You the social worker. Y’all good at helping people. I’m a single mom. I gotta take care of myself for my baby’s sake. ’Sides, prolly just an animal.”

“help …”
The voice was still faint, but there was no mistaking it.

Martin.
And he didn’t sound angry. He sounded scared.

Sara began to walk toward the voice. “You go back to camp,” she said to Laneesha. “Martin! I’m coming!”

The trees were so thick Sara couldn’t walk in a straight line for more than a few steps. Even worse, the Maglite was getting dimmer. How far ahead could he be? Fifty yards? A hundred? The woods seemed to be closing in, swallowing her up. There was no red ribbon anywhere.

She stopped, trying to get her bearings. Sara couldn’t even be sure this was the right direction anymore.

A rustling noise, to her left. Sara turned.

“Martin?”

Then something tackled Sara, something strong enough to knock the wind right out of her lungs. Before Sara could see what it was, the flashlight went flying and winked out.