The hail slowed, then seemed to disappear. Zoe hadn’t realized how much the noise had jangled her nerves. But the minute Val clicked off the windshield wipers, the storm started up again—fiercer this time. It was like someone was dropping nails from the cliff.
“The depression makes Gloria hate herself,” said Val. “She thinks she’s no good. You know how obsessed I am with her, right?”
“Dude,” said Zoe, “you made a Tumblr about her feet.”
“Right?” said Val. “And it’s got, like, a thousand followers! But she doesn’t believe I love her. She doesn’t see how I could.”
“X is like that sometimes,” said Zoe. “People have been telling him his whole life that he’s not worth anything. I want to hit them with a brick until they’re dead.”
“Aren’t they already dead?” said Val.
“Then more dead,” said Zoe.
“I texted Gloria twenty-two times last night,” said Val. “She didn’t answer once. She was too depressed.”
“You must have freaked,” said Zoe.
“Ya think?” said Val.
Headlights materialized in the distance, a pair of bright eyes coming toward them. Zoe winced, remembering Ronny the Unhinged Hunter. Val drove closer to the cliff to be safe.
“This morning, Gloria called and said she’d been curled in a ball on the floor all night,” Val said. “Slept in her clothes. Even her sneakers and her coat. I’ve seen her when she’s like that. I’ve had to pick her up off the floor. This morning, she goes, ‘If you need a different girlfriend, it’s okay. I wouldn’t want me either.’ ”
The oncoming car pulled over. Val fiddled with the wipers.
“If Gloria finds out I lied about where I am tonight, shit’s gonna blow up,” she said. “I can’t give her another reason to hate herself, or think I don’t love her.”
The driver got out of his car, and tried to wave them down.
“He wants us to stop,” said Zoe.
“No way,” said Val. “Right? I’m not stopping. Not in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere. Not after that freak Ronny.”
“Okay,” said Zoe.
“What do you mean, ‘okay’?” said Val. “Should I stop or not?”
“You said you weren’t stopping! I’m just saying okay!”
The man was only an outline. He’d pulled his coat over his head to shield himself from the hail. As they got closer, he waved more urgently.
“I mean, anyone who’s out here right now is nuts—including us,” said Val.
Zoe could see her hands tighten on the wheel.
“Okay,” she said.
“Stop saying that!” said Val. “I mean, would you stop?”
Zoe groaned.
“Probably?” she said. “But I make bad choices!”
“You do make bad choices,” said Val. She nodded to herself. The white helmet jiggled on her head. She floored it past the other car. “I’m not stopping. No way. Sorry, creep.”
They shot past the man, feeling too guilty to even look at him.
“Are we assholes?” said Val.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” said Zoe.
Soon, the road forked, and the dark, rippled surface of Lake McDonald came into view. It was just past ten o’clock. The black sky was streaked with blue, like something had been scratching at it.
Zoe saw lights glinting through the trees down by the lake. Houses. Timothy Ward lived in one of them.
They were close.
As they wound around the lake, Zoe reread the article about X’s father. She liked him more every time she read the story. He was a wildlife biologist who studied and cared for the bear population in the park. It sounded as if it was the only job he’d ever had, or wanted, which Zoe found touching. She was also struck by the fact that he’d lived alone on a lake for many years. Solitude almost seemed to have been passed down from father to son.
Val hit the brake, and she and Zoe jerked forward in their seats. Val let out a string of profanity.
Startled, Zoe looked out the windshield.
There was something dead in the road.
nineteen
“What the hell is that?” said Val.
She was so unnerved that Zoe had to remind her to put the Jeep into park and switch on the hazard lights.
“Dead animals,” said Zoe.
“What kind of dead animals?”
“I don’t know. I can’t tell from here.”
“Well, I can’t get around them. And I’m not driving over them. Screw this. We’re going home.”
“Wait. Just wait.”
Zoe unbuckled her seat belt, and searched Dallas’s backpacks. She found two powder-blue raincoats. She tried to hand one to Val.
“You’re giving me that like you think I’m gonna get out of the car and look at dead things,” Val said. “In what universe?”
She thrust the car into reverse so hurriedly that it landed in drive instead. The car lurched forward.
“Stop!” said Zoe.
She took Val’s hand off the gearshift, and hugged her to calm her down. Their helmets clacked together.
“Stay here,” said Zoe. “I’ll check it out.”
“No, no, no,” said Val, each word a rising note. “We’re going home. Look at those things. I draw the line at really obvious omens.”
Zoe pulled a pair of work gloves from the backpack. They were the creepy kind with rubberized fingertips that look like they’ve been dipped in blood.
“I’m not going home,” she said.
“Yeah, you are,” said Val. “This does not have to happen tonight. Only you think it does.”
Zoe pushed her door open.
“Go if you want to go,” she said. “I won’t be mad.”
“You won’t be mad?” said Val.
Zoe walked away before her friend could say more. Behind her, Val punched at the horn, and shouted, “You suck, Zoe Bissell.”
But she didn’t abandon her.
The animals were a mountain lion and a ram. They’d died in a bend of the road. On the right, the jagged, slate cliff rose into the darkness. On the left, the mountain tumbled precipitously down to the lake. Val’s high beams were still on. The light shot past Zoe. The wet road looked like a shining snake.
The mountain lion lay on its side, its tawny fur wet, its body curled. It seemed to have died peacefully, but when Zoe stood over it, she saw a ring of blood, almost like lipstick, around its mouth. She wondered if it had been hit by a car—or accidently chased the ram off the cliff.
The ram’s eyes were still open. It had died afraid. The poor beast’s neck was twisted backward, its teeth were shattered, and one of its big spiraling horns had broken off. The larger section lay in the road ten feet away. All that was left on the animal’s head was a stub like a devil’s horn. It was coated with blood.
Zoe began dragging the mountain lion to the side of the road by its legs. She could feel how stiff it was, how dead.
From behind her came a gale of noise.
Val was leaning on the Jeep’s horn, as if to say, What are you DOING?
When Zoe got the mountain lion into the weeds, she forced herself to look at it a last time. She felt a pang, like the cat was still alive, like she was deserting it and it knew. She shook off the thought, and went back for the ram.
It was too heavy. She grabbed a foreleg and a hind leg, but got nowhere. She pulled again, harder. Still nothing. She was on the verge of crying when she heard Val get out of the car.
Val had lowered her head to protect her from the hail, and thrust her hands into her raincoat. Zoe knew how much Val hated being there, knew how much she owed her, knew that nothing she could say would be adequate.
She took in Val’s helmet and blue raincoat.
“Do you have to copy everything I wear?” she said.
Val didn’t answer. She peered at the ram out of the corner of her eye, disgusted.
“Don’t look at its face,” said Zoe. “It’s messed up. Just look at me.”
They gripped the ram’s legs, and dragged it toward the shoulder of the road. Val struggled not to look down. Her face trembled with the effort. When they’d been at it for a while, Zoe checked their progress, and saw that they were barely halfway there. They jerked the ram a little farther. It streaked the road with its blood.
Zoe could see that Val was angry. They had a conversation with their eyes.
VAL: If I can’t look down, YOU can’t look down!
ZOE: I just had to see how close we are.
VAL: Are we close?
ZOE: Do you want me to lie?
VAL: OF COURSE I want you to lie!
ZOE: We’re super-super close.
VAL: SHIT! I’m going to throw up.
ZOE: No, you’re not. Just keep looking at me.
VAL: I hate you for making me do this.