Blue Field



Two non-diving recovery days later she woke shivering and alone in the spare bedroom in Bowman’s trailer. She made it to the bathroom for a painful episode then shuffled to the kitchenette and opened the screen door to a humid overcast. Rand in rumpled boxers was brewing her gas mix. Not good. Good was brewing her own. Proving her responsible worth. She scratched her fingers on the screen to catch his attention and mouth an apology, but if he heard he ignored her. At least Bowman’s truck was gone. She scratched her calf. She examined the welts in some nudge of memory which misted until her gut clutched again, which drove her again to the toilet where she listened to a vehicle rustle along the gravel drive and park. She heard voices too low to follow. The kitchen door banged open.

Princess. You, now. Or forever hold your peace.

She bumped along in Rand’s truck, mashed between the two men. Bowman chewed gum with gusto and the fruity scent invaded the cab. Outside the truck, moss-draped cypress and pine. A dead armadillo, two. The sun had punched through the overcast and the AC roared. She drew her jacket hood over her head. An hour into the drive, Bowman sharp-elbowed her hip. Still okay, princess? he asked, smacking his gum.

No problems here, boss. That okay with you?

Wise guy. At least you’re speaking. Thought you’d gone comatose on us. Thought Petrie here was going to have to pull off the road and I’d be spending my morning CPRing his better half. And that, my friend, would be a piss-off.

Ha, she said.

He parted his lips in an exaggerated smile and wiggled the gum between his front upper and lower teeth before sucking the wad back in his mouth. Just a little conversation, he said.

Not much later Rand cut from the highway for a secondary road through forest and Bowman buzzed down his window and hawked. Sweltering air oozed inside. When the road petered into a rutted dirt path, the truck bounced past abandoned refrigerators and swollen cardboard boxes and lumpy torn trash bags. Rand clung to the wheel and Bowman braced against the door with one arm, the top of the bench seat with the other, which grazed her shoulders. The vegetation thickened into twisting vines over tangled trees and the path became a branch-whipped tunnel. Bowman clicked off his seatbelt and thrust his upper torso out the window, balancing on the sill. Yee-haw, he called and Rand slowed and Bowman drew back inside and sidled sideways so that his back was against the door, his legs heavy on Marilyn’s. He knitted his fingers together behind his neck. Now that I’ve got you two kids here, he said.

Rand jumped the brake, pitching Marilyn and Bowman forward into the dash. You didn’t get us fucking lost, did you? Rand said. Get out of this truck and fucking walk, in front of us. You find that fucking site.

Bowman chuckled. Up ahead, he said and resettled in the passenger seat to face forward. I’m just fucking with you. Fuck’s sake. You, my friend, are no fun to be around.

The truck rolled again. Dick, Rand said.

Bowman leaned forward and cupped his hands over her ears. Language, he said to Rand. Try to use your nice words. You dick.

Rand drove on, double-fisted. Leaves shushed against both sides of the truck and branches niggled like small creatures on the roof. Suddenly Bowman drum-rolled on his knees and cried, Here-here, and the truck lurched to a halt. Cramps seized her and she lunged for the door handle, but Bowman nose-to-nosed her and she cringed back into her seat. Uh-yup, he said lightly.

Looks not in the slightest familiar, Rand said, after a few seconds.

You stupid bastard, Bowman drawled. You were here, what, year and a half ago? With me. And not this one but the other one. And that is a long time no see. Meanwhile a whole jungle springs up. Can hardly tell one fucking thing from another. You should fucking know.

Your mouth? Rand said through gritted teeth. Watch it?

Ouchy, Bowman said. You okay, guy? I’ve been worrying about the princess here. But maybe it’s you I should be keeping my eye on.

Then he cracked open the door and slid out. Marilyn made to follow and he caught her. For a second her legs swung uselessly against his as he tamped the ground then planted her firmly. This what you want, princess? he asked. A little fresh air?

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