When the Light Goes Out Page 8

  Ah-ha. Some-body likes me, she sang in her head.

  And maybe she could like him back. It depended on a few things. Things like whether or not her sister would be rescued before a tanker was going to puncture and poison them all. Or whether or not psychotic hillbillies were following them on the river. Or whether or not they would all survive this and Scott decided he wanted to get back together with her. Those few things.

  But since all of that was up-in-the-air, the one sure thing in life she could latch onto was that he was obviously smitten with her on some level and that was the right kind of nice for this very moment. Ami wanted him to look at her again with the same comfortable appreciation.

  As he turned his head back to the woods, Ami noticed something out of place on his temple. She poked him and laughed.

  “Does your sideburn have a bad-breath complex, too?”

  Marc felt something gummy stuck to his temple, halfway attached to skin and halfway tangled in his hair. It was gum, in fact. Gum that had flown from his mouth to the floor in the grocery store attack. The Rat’s Nest Man had smashed his head into it.

  He ripped it out quickly and it lit the nerves on fire. A shriek burst out of him.

  Ami’s laughs grew beyond her capacity to hold them in. Giddiness boiled within her and then she said, “Scott set a guy on fire.”

  “Jesus, I know,” Marc said, “That really happened, didn’t it?”

  “I was like, ‘What in the world?’” Ami keeled over with laughter. It was definitely the pill again.

  Marc’s kind face of admiration was now growing concerned, “I, uh…you should keep it down a bit.”

  “Scott,” Ami called out to the front of the raft, “You set a guy on fire.”

  Scott stopped paddling, “What?”

  Ami spoke louder, “You set a guy on fire!”

  Marc said, “Okay, getting loud. Calm down a bit.”

  Ami, still loud, said, “Oh man, I wish I had set that guy on fire. It must have felt awesome. Maybe I’ll set Shane on fire if I ever see him again.”

  Scott’s teeth appeared through a slow smile, “You’re fricking bananas.”

  Ami burst out with full-volume laughing.

  Marc cut in again, “Hey, can you think of any reason why we might want to be quiet right now?”

  Her plan to see that look of admiration again was not working as she had hoped. Her fun buddy from art class wasn’t being such a joker now. It derailed her fun and the rejection made her shiver.

  “So what do we do now?” Marc said to Scott, “We should dock somewhere, right? Start heading in the right direction?”

  “We can drop off near Kelly Island,” Scott said, “Should only be like a ten minute walk to my house. Then we can bike it across town, I suppose. I got my Diamondback. I got a couple of other bikes, too. There’s one bike that needs air, but I have a pump. I bet with no traffic, we could get to Dana in a little over a half hour. ”

  “Good deal,” Marc said.

  “‘Good deal’,” Ami imitated him.

  “Seriously, what’s your problem?” Marc said.

  Ami cleared her throat, “What problem, exactly?”

  “Uh, you’re being—silly,” Marc said.

  Amy cracked up, still loud, “Silly? Am I being silly? Am I being a silly goose?”

  “You’re being a bratty goose,” Marc said.

  “Sor-ree. Maybe I just really need to find things entertaining right now.”

  “I told you not to take that pill.”

  “What pill?” Scott said.

  “Half a Xanex,” Marc said.

  “What a tattler you are,” Ami said.

  “Jesus, Ami,” Scott said, “Just try to keep it together, okay? And quietly? We don’t need to draw attention to ourselves if those fucks are looking for us.”

  “Okay,” Ami nodded soberly, “It’s just hard for me to hold anything in right now.”

  Marc let go of his dismay and extended his hand to her, “Here, take my hand. Squeeze it to keep the giggles in.”

  “No thanks,” she said.

  They came to another bend in the river. They dog-paddled furiously and steered themselves to realign with the river’s flow. It had picked up speed after the last bend, and the landscape moved a little faster. The riverbed straightened out and the flow slowed again.

  “What do you think happened to Leslie and Jodi?” Marc said.

  “I bet those hoes split town and left us for dead,” Ami said, “They’re probably drinking appletini’s with Shane right now at Keith’s. Whoever the fuck Keith is.”

  “Keith Byers,” Scott said, “Goes to Frenchtown High.”

  “Fuck Keith. I hate Keith, too.” Ami said.

  “He’s an alright guy,” Scott said.

  “No, if he’s Shane’s friend, he sucks,” Ami said, her voice rising above a whisper again.

  “Ami, volume,” Marc said.

  “Why are you being a jerk?” Ami said.

  “I’m just trying to get you to realize we’re still in trouble here and maybe you shouldn’t have taken that pill.”

  “I’m fine. Those guys would have shown up by now if they were following us. We’re fine.”

  “I don’t trust your Xanax-decisions,” Marc said.

  “It’s no different than how I normally make decisions,” Ami said.

  “Then that’s even worse,” Marc said, “Says something about your sober decisions too.”

  “Maybe my decision to consider you a fun guy was wrong,” Ami said.

  “Maybe your decisions can’t keep from putting people in danger,” Marc said.

  “How did I put you in danger, huh? Grow a dick.”

  “I meant your dad,” Marc said.

  It stopped her as cold as the water. It left her more than speechless; it took the breath from her.

  Marc closed his eyes and was ready to immediately backtrack, but he couldn’t form the words; the embarrassment of bringing this up to her was paralyzing.

  While he tried to get the words together, Ami quickly leaned forward and pushed him over the side of the raft. His upper-body disappeared under the water.

  “What the hell?” Scott yelled.

  Ami saw Marc surface and splash around in the water. She yelled to him, “There’s one of my careless decisions again!”

  The river stream bent again. This time, the flow was stronger than any of the bends that had come before it. Scott pivoted around and spotted the downed tree in the river coming right for them, split branches protruding from every angle. He ordered Ami to paddle to avoid the tree.

  The current fought back. Like everything else today, it was cruel and did not give them any reprieve. Their cupped hands were no match for the force of the water. The fractured branches protruding from the trunk met with the raft before anyone could even touch the downed tree.

  The raft didn’t just sustain a pop or two; in a span no greater than two seconds, it was deflated completely and pulled into the water entirely. Scott and Ami hit the water, following the course of the raft.

  * * *

  The water was so cold to Marc that it took the wind out of him. After he surfaced, he saw Ami and Scott run into the downed tree. The raft had disappeared and so had Ami. The same tree trunk that had swallowed them was coming for him. He tried to kick his feet to any surface below and could only skim a few rocks with his toes.

  Before Marc was sucked under the trunk, he wrapped his arms around it. His fear was that he would be sucked downriver into an undertow too strong for him to escape. Water rushed around him on all sides. His memory sprang to life of every instance in which his parents had warned him to stay away from the rivers. He’d drown, just as they had warned.

  But his worst fear was that he’d drown without getting to wrap his arms around Ami and apologize profusely for what had just happened.

  As the frigid water swept over his face again, he heard Scott yelling at him from somewhere to let go of the trunk. After a few seconds, Marc o
vercame the fog of panic and realized Scott was right, so he let go. He pushed his way along the bottom of the tree trunk as he quickly passed below it. His head popped up on the other side to relatively calm water. A few yards downstream, Marc could now see that Scott had climbed out of the rushing waters and was kneeling on a rocky embankment.

  Marc floated further and felt the stones below his feet. He kicked his legs out in front of him and dug them in. It slowed him down enough that he was able to stop after another few yards, passing Scott as he went. As he dug his feet into the rocks, the power of the water swept his upper body past his feet and he flopped forward on his face again. His feet burrowed in to another stretch of rocks. He felt the strength in his legs return and as he slowed, he was able to stand. The water sailed past his legs and he could barely move them through the water. He would lift one leg out, then plant it in the water again until he made it to the embankment.

  Scott ran down the riverbank and when Marc was close enough, reached his arm out and pulled him onto land.

  “Did you see Ami?” Marc asked.

  “No.”

  Marc’s stomach sank. They ran along the bank, sprinting around the small group of trees that obscured their view downriver. Then he heard his name yelled from behind and he felt instant relief. Ami was still trapped in the water. Along the bank, she clung to the skinny trunks of the small tree grove blooming from the river.

  She climbed out of the water, but thin trunks on both sides of the tree patch caged her in. There were visible areas of open air between the entwined branches. She stared at the twisted twigs and began to calculate her route through the narrow maze to the other side. Every other step was a hazardous one. One of her shoes was gone; probably well on its way to Idaho by now.

  Marc ran to the tree cluster and peered in from the other side. Ami was carefully navigating through open spaces large enough to squeeze through. Scrapes mounted on her arms and her one bare foot as she pushed through against the bark.

  “Go a little left, there’s a bigger opening through that way,” Marc said.

  “What are you saying? I’m fat?” she panted.

  Her humor was still intact.

  After navigating the last maze of branches, she appeared through the other side, dropped to the ground, and planted her face into the dirt.

  “That was bullshit,” Ami said, “Whose fucking idea was this?”

  They sat for a while in silence.

  Marc took off his left shoe, “Here, take this.”

  “You can keep it,” she said.

  “We have a real walk ahead of us.”

  She took the shoe. The single Adidas sneaker didn’t fit well; her foot had plenty of room to move, but with the laces strung tight, at least it didn’t topple off.

  Ami extended her hand to him for gratitude and Marc pulled her in for the hug he was infinitely grateful for being able to give.

  “Jesus Christ, Ami. I’m so, so sorry,” he said, “I fully invite you to break my nose for me. It’s like I couldn’t control the words. I have no excuse. I swear to hell I didn’t mean that.”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  “I didn’t mean it the way I said it.”

  “That’s a slick apology. You didn’t mean it the way you said it.”

  “Right. But I mean this apology exactly the way I’m saying it. I’m not kidding. I will never forgive myself for what I said. Your dad’s accident was not your fault.”

  She stared at the ground and said, “Yes it was. You were right.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s okay, Marc. It was my fault. This—” Ami pointed to their wet clothes, “—is my fault too. I’m the one with the sister in peril. I’m the one who said it was okay to bring Shane. I’m the one that said we should go into that store.”

  “Stop it,” Marc said and pulled her close to him.

  “I’m such a fuck-up, Marc—”

  Marc interrupted her lips with his lips. Her lips were lifeless at first, but they began to become firm and began to press back to his.

  Then she broke away when Scott’s footsteps snapped dry grass behind them.

  “We should go,” Ami said.

  Chapter XI

  They walked the terrain, which was a mixture of crabgrass and spotted knapweed. There was also houndstongue and their pants were collecting a frustrating amount of burrs; scratchy little monstrosities that collected along their pant legs. Their clothes were an uncomfortable mess of wet rags, chafing and becoming stickier as their sweat accumulated.

  Marc hopped on one foot for as long as his leg would allow. Each time he stepped down on the shoeless foot, he would trample on dried weeds decaying from previous summers; weeds that poked exposed skin with plenty of sharp splinters. Ami positioned herself to be his crutch. He couldn’t put nearly enough weight on her to make it practical, but he found some enjoyment in having her close.

  They walked about a mile and reached an irrigation ditch. It was filled with stagnant, green water.

  “What the hell is this?” Ami said.

  “A stream of cholera, apparently,” Marc said.

  “I think I can jump it,” Scott said.

  “It’s like eight feet wide!” Ami said, “No, wait—do! Go ahead, I think it would be funny as shit to see you try.”

  Scott brushed past them and began to walk backwards through the grass, gauging the distance he’d need to build up the speed. He stopped at nearly twenty feet from the ditch and kneeled to the ground.

  Ami cackled, “He’s not going to make it.”

  Scott popped up and pushed the earth with his feet. He flew past them and as he reached the water’s edge, he kicked his right leg into the air.

  They cringed as the jump began to look iffy. Then his feet hit solid ground on the other side of the ditch. Scott fell to the ground in celebration.

  “Fuck,” Marc said, “How are we supposed to make this happen?”

  Scott stood up, “I think you guys could probably do it.”

  “Doubtful,” Marc said.

  Ami stared at the water. It was alive with dancing little creepies that skimmed along its surface. There was bubbly green growth along the edges of the water.

  This is just one more awful thing to do; your journey isn’t over.

  Out east, she saw the tankers were leaning forward, fingers interlocked in front of a wicked grin.

  Without speaking, she began to walk into the water. The ditch was deeper than it appeared, swallowing her up to her waist. Her foot sunk into a slimy floor, the mud slinking between her toes. She kept her eyes on the other side.

  As she emerged from the water and onto the other side, she turned around to Marc. Her pants were completely encased in mud and she wore a blue-green band around her shirt where the waterline had stood. She smiled at him and extended her arm out to the water.

  “It’s your turn,” she called to him.

  “I think I’ll try jumping,” Marc said.

  “I don’t know if you can make it, man,” Scott said.

  “No, I probably can’t,” Marc said quietly. He jogged backwards to a few feet farther than Scott had needed, began to sprint towards the ditch, yelling, “But fuck it!”

  His right foot reached the edge of the ditch and his leg prepared to spring itself off of the bank. His foot met only something partially solid and the jump lost half its energy. He kicked his other foot out as if to do a long-jump plant.

  Marc needed eight feet and jumped seven.

  His feet planted into the mud and the remainder of his mass sent him down to the water. He screeched as the water encased him to his chest.

  Scott howled. Ami wanted to howl, but instead gave Scott a lazy punch to his shoulder.

  “Oh, Marc,” Ami said and extended her hand to him, “Almost had it.”

  “Do you think less of me?” Marc took her hand and pulled himself out of the mud.

  “Of course,” she said. She scraped a layer of mud from his arm and flung it at him.r />
  “Are we anywhere near your house, Scott?” Marc said.

  “Just over that hill is Cote Lane,” Scott said. He stared at them, “I might have something you can change into. Marc, I think you can pick up something of mine. But, Ami, I know my little brother’s clothes would fit you better. You’re about the same height.”

  “Gross, I am not wearing anything that your little brother has worn. I’d rather wear the germ farm I’m wearing now.”

  They reached the solid asphalt of Cote Lane and found there was a forgotten loveliness about firm ground when it’s absent for long enough. Marc was the only one yet to feel the relief. The asphalt was littered with sharp rocks and his bare foot had managed to step on each of them. His knee wobbled with each step, straining from the extra weight distribution.

  They continued down the road slowly, passing empty houses. Technically, the area could be considered a neighborhood, but the spaciousness of the lots didn’t give much sense to the term. After passing a few acres, Scott’s house came into view.

  The Smart Car was parked in his driveway. As they approached, they were able to recognize that Leslie was sitting on the stairs.

  Chapter XII

  Leslie appeared to them in the violet hour. She ran down the asphalt to meet them as they approached the driveway.

  Leslie immediately threw her arms around Scott, holding him close. Closer than Ami believed was natural for two platonics. Ami felt her neck grow warm as things began to make sense to her.

  “Oh my God, I had no idea where you guys went,” Leslie said to Scott, “What happened to you guys? I’ve been trying to call your phone.”

  “Yeah, I don’t have it anymore,” Scott said, “We had some problems.”

  “I thought you were mad at us and weren’t answering,” Leslie said.

  Scott leaned his face into her, “I wouldn’t have done that.”

  Ami wanted to vomit, “Yeah, so…what happened to you guys? You guys sort of got ahead of us.”

  “The traffic was just crazy, your lane started going so slow and we just had to keep moving.”

  “You didn’t really want to stick with us anyways,” Ami said, “Is Jodi still with you?”