Rusty Summer (14 page)

“Rusty, come with me.” Beau starts walking away distractedly.

We head back up the road. I wish we had stayed on the main highway. I wish a car would come along. I wish I had been paying attention.

“Help me!” I look and Beau has found a huge rock. It's too big for one person but maybe two could heft it.

“What?” I say. He starts tugging on it furiously.

Then I get it. My eyes bug as I gasp in horror.

“Oh, no, Beau . . . oh, God, we can't.” I put my hands over my mouth.

The deer screams in torment. It sounds
human.
The sound creates a panic in Beau.

“Rusty! Hurry! We can't let it suffer! Now help me pick up this rock. We are going to put it out of its misery.” He hunkers down again and starts hauling on the boulder.

Everything is my fault. I lean down and help him with the rock.

We can't budge it. Even when Leo comes and helps. It is an unmovable object.

The deer screams again. It makes Beau crumple and wrap his arms around himself. Then he jumps up and heads back to the van. He starts rooting around in the back.

The stuff that happened next became surreal and slow-motion.

Beau finds something in the van and heads over to the deer, as it lies panting and gasping and groaning. It was in extreme agony, you could just tell.

We follow after Beau and watch, as he hops into the ditch with the mangled deer. It tries to struggle when he gets too close but it's too messed up. It shrieks. Time slows down even more.

Beau speaks gently to the deer and it stops thrashing. It watches him.

Then Beau kneels down by the deer and pulls its head over and cut its throat. Right by its ear.

Just like that—quick and almost softly.

Blood sprays and spurts out over Beau and all of us, in accusing heartbeats.

The deer didn't even seem surprised. Or like it hurt.

It kicked once, and then, like, rested.

Beau stays beside it and pets its head while all the blood in the world flows red out of its poor broken body, down its white chest and into the ground.

Then time sped up to normal.

 

Leo turns away; gasping for air and crying like her heart will break. Then she stops sobbing, and sinks down, hugging her knees and rocking herself.

I stagger back to the wrecked van. I'm nauseated and clammy and shaking, and hang on to the popped-open back end. Sick, I gag and spit repeatedly. Everything smells like blood. It makes it worse.

I throw up and crawl away on my knees, sweating cold and shuddering.

The Bomb comes to me and whines in concern. I hang on to her for dear life.

We just hold the positions we have assumed and are silent.

 

Leo speaks first. Her voice is hoarse.

“Are we okay?”

It breaks the spell. Beau stands up.

He has been sitting beside the dead deer. He looks like a horror show; he is covered with fresh and drying blood. His bloody hair is standing on end. His face is splashed red.

I look down at myself and over at Leo. We are all covered with spatter patterns of blood.

Beau, still clutching the sticky Swiss army knife, crawls over to where I am sitting, and fall-sits above me, on the side of the ditch.

Stock-still, we strive to regain our grip . . . and after a spell, I stop shaking.

“Dude,” I say, finally. “This is bad.”

“Yeah.” He agrees, in a daze. He nods distantly.

“Where are we?” I ask, trying to get him back. “What's the closest town?”

“Dunno.”

“Google it.”

He tries. At least there is enough reception. We find a tow truck number in a tiny town about twenty miles away. He calls. He gets voice mail. He very calmly leaves a message.

We sit gazing at each other, blankly.

Leo stands up.

“We should walk.”

Beau and I stare at her. She stares back. Starts moving backwards up the road, looking at us.

“Come on. We don't know if there is going to be a guy checking voice mail, or if they're even in business, or anything. Beau left where we are on the message. We can't just stay here. If we start now we can get to that town before it gets dark. I want to go.”

“We look like zombies. We're all bloody. We will freak people out.”

“Good, they'll pick us up. C'mon.”

 

Twenty miles is a long way.

You don't really think it's so far, when you're just whippin' in a car, but you're wrong.

Luckily it was flat where we wrecked, even though it's forest, not farmland. I am still freaked out by the deep dark woods. Even by day.

I take our important stuff from the van and remember to get Bommy's leash. By habit I grab her dookie bags, but then remember I don't have to, out here in the outback.

We start lurching along in a staggery, gimpy way like we've been pounded. Which we have.

I remember, gratefully, that dark is still hours away, though the weather starts to sock in. Great. It's cloudy at the moment; if it starts to rain that will just be perfect.

Though maybe it'd wash off some of the blood. It's dried now, stiff and nasty.

We probably walk for two hours. I'm sure we look like we're running in an undead marathon. I'm almost relieved no one can see us.

We don't talk too much, just think. There is no traffic.

I'm at the point of being so guilty about all this that I think I'm starting to lose my mind. I'm looking around at every noise. I try not to obsess about zombies and vampires, but as the light fades and the weather gets misty, I do. I think all the blood makes me more creeped out.

I know, right? I idiotically
must
freak myself out if there is no one else to do it, apparently.

On we stagger . . . on and on. Into the barely waning light.

 

Ironically, as soon as we see a farmhouse, we also see headlights on the road. Civilization!

Eventually we can tell it's a tow truck. It's the guy we called. He's still off in the distance, but speeding toward us. We wave and yell as it approaches us rapidly.

It's coming for us and it's the most beautiful tow truck in the world. We stop and wait for it . . . sweet relief. So grateful for other people to the rescue.

The dude pulls up beside us. He's young and wearing flannel. Baseball hat, no logo.

“You guys left the message?”

“Yeah!” We are so grateful we all babble at once. “We killed a deer! It's back there! It's awful! The van is blue—it's wrecked—in the ditch—near the dead deer! We have been walking for hours! It's back there! So glad you're here!! Super glad!!”

As we say this we see another truck in the distance. Suddenly the road is populous!

Dude looks in the rearview.

“Those are my cousins.”

And predictably I return to panic mode. Why do we need
cousins?
This could be bad.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Dartanian and John.”

This calms me a little. I mean, what thug would name their tiny thug baby Dartanian?

They pull up behind the first guy on the road. Both of them are also young and flannelized.

“Where's the deer?”

This is out of the driver's mouth, before they even say hi.

The first guy looks at them. “Figures.” He turns to us. “Do you want it?”

We look at each other. Do we
want
it?

“Um . . . no.” I try not to sound as clueless as we feel. Why would we want a dead deer?

“Mind if they have it?”

“Um . . . fine.” We eyeball each other surreptitiously and kind of shrug.

They hoot and drive off, honking. The first guy looks at us.

“Nice. Thanks. They didn't bag one last season, so this eases their pain.”

This oddly amuses me.

These guys are really excited about the deer as venison, which until this moment had not entered my mind. Actually, it makes me feel better; this way it won't all be such a waste, if someone eats the poor thing. You know, The Circle of Life and all.

We look at each other again and nod. I see my crew feels a little better too.

The tow guy surveys us, up and down.

“Man, you must have really nailed that deer. You look pretty bad.”

I grimace with the memory.

“Yeah. We feel pretty bad too.”

“Good thing you didn't run into any bears. You smell like blood.”

Which freaks me outta my mind! I was so worried about zombies I forgot about bears!

“Oh . . . my . . . gawd,” I manage, feebly.

“It's cool, Dart has a couple of shotguns in the truck, if the bears are there by now.”

We all stand still, spazzing out belatedly about bears.

“Well,” Dude says, “I say, since you guys are so bloody and all, let's go back to town and then I'll bring whoever back to the van after you change, and we'll tow it then.”

“Yes!” We all say and pile in—
after
he pulls a tarp out of the back and spreads it over the seats.

The town wasn't too far, once we got in the tow truck and started to roll. We had walked a long way already.

The light had faded by the time we pulled into the only motel beside the only gas station beside the only lil' grocery. You get the idea.

“This is also our garage,” Dude says as we pull up to the gas station, which shares the parking lot with the motel. “Wait here—I'll park and help you.”

He drops us off with our stuff and parks in the station. He comes back and walks in with us. Bells on the door to the motel ring when we open it.

“Ger?” Dude calls, tentatively.

An old lady comes out of the back and gasps.

“Ahhh!” She's startled, and hollers as she grabs on to the counter. We do look pretty bad.

“Good Lord! Are you okay? What did you all do?!” She looks at us over her glasses.

“They're fine. They hit a deer and wrecked their van. Dart and John are getting it now.”

“Good heavens, kids! You're lucky you're okay! You could have been killed!”

“Nah, Ger, not these deer.” Dude says, “You're thinking of the big ones back east. These black tail deer here're smaller. They'll just wreck your car—and kill themselves.”

“Oh, dear! You kids should be more careful!”

I nod woefully. “I totally agree.”

“Well, get in here and let's get you mopped off. Here, take room twelve. Two queen-size beds.”

We are carefully escorted to the room. Beau showers first because he's quickest. Then me, then Leo. She takes The Bomb into the shower with her. I help dry Bommy off when they get out.

Then we mop up the blood-stained floor and pile all the red-and-white towels in a heap.

Finally, we are not sticky and covered with blood for the first time in hours. It's heavenly.

 

We look out the window when we hear a truck pull up into the parking lot outside. It's the cousins, Dartanian and John.

They have the deer's head tied onto the hood of the truck. The rest of the deer is in the truck bed.

I jump twenty feet when I see the head. Leonie gasps. Beau doesn't even change expressions.

“I figured they'd do that,” he says. He's hunted before with his dad in Kansas.

We stare out the window somberly.

On the other hand the guys, Dart and John, are all excited. They get out of the truck and are talking to the old lady. They are covered in blood now too, but don't seem to mind. They gesture back down the road and yammer over each other excitedly. They are speculating on getting another deep-freeze to store the meat. And the deer's head is a trophy, apparently. They don't feel bad at all.

We look at each other.
Who knew?

Beau did.

“People are like this in the country.... I'm glad it's not going to waste.” He shrugs. “It's chill.”

I guess. I wish it was still bounding over hill and dale, myself. All my fault . . .

I'm going to be guilt tripping for quite a while. I can tell.

We head out to the truck, leaving The Bomb inside the room. The two cousins greet us.

“Hey, thanks a lot, you guys! Greg said you don't want anything?”

We look at tow truck guy. We've been so out of it, we hadn't even asked him his name.

“Hi, Greg. By the way—thanks,” I say and then we all introduce ourselves.

“So, yeah, have it. All. It's fine,” Beau says, in answer to their question.

That makes us all like best buddies and they are really happy to buy us dinner at the diner. They wash their hands at the motel but don't even seem to notice their bloody flannel shirts.

Squeamishly, I try not to look. We head over to the diner and sit down with them. Naturally, the diner is decorated with deer and elk heads. All of them eyeballing me balefully.

I order everything well-done.

The dudes of course all start to talk to Leonie. Which is only to be expected.

She's used to it. She's gotten really good at being nice but not encouraging, not shutting anybody down in a way that makes them feel bad.

It's quite a skill.

The cousins say the van looks totaled. My heart sinks when I hear that. We do not have a giant repairs budget. I didn't include deer-murder in the itinerary when I planned this trip.

Greg says that whoever wants to can go tow it with him but he's going to wait till morning, since it's in the ditch and not blocking anything.