I tried to wash his feet with the water we kept in a plastic water bottle, but he told me no, that we “won’t be wasting any more of the sterilized water” on his “minor” injuries. Annoyed by his stubbornness, and reminding him that minor could easily become major, I argued with him about it until he took his injured, smelly, moisture-wrinkled feet and wash them out in the rain when it poured again; the rain had been on and off in intervals all afternoon.
It was dusk, and the sun still offered the cave light, but it was fading quickly as the hour wore on. And when we laid down for the night, it had become so natural for me to curl up in his arms by then that Atticus instinctively reached for me as I made my way toward him.
The thought of not having him there—and I thought about it a lot, as it became my biggest fear—put a knot in my stomach I couldn’t push down.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice a warm whisper moving through the top of my hair as I clung to him in the darkness.
“I just don’t want you to get up in the middle of the night,” I answered.
“What if I have to take a piss?”
He pressed his lips to the top of my head.
“Then hold it,” I said seriously, and Atticus snorted. “Or if you have to go really bad, then take me with you.”
I could feel the measure of his big smile in the tightness of his arms.
34
ATTICUS
I woke Thais early the next morning. “We need to get moving.” I pulled my jacket away from her shoulders where she lay curled in a ball beneath it.
“Atticus,” she said, raising her head, “where are we going exactly? How long are we going to stay in the woods? When are we going to head toward Shreveport?”
“There are some cabins in this forest somewhere,” I said as I packed, “and I’d rather find shelter in one of those than sleeping on the ground in this cave. We’ll head to Shreveport soon.”
“But maybe people are living in those cabins.” She sat up and strapped her sandals on.
“Maybe so,” I said, sliding the rifle strap over my shoulder, “but I’m starting to think we’re alone in these woods; haven’t seen or heard anyone in days. And there was no one at the river. Maybe the cabins are as abandoned as the rest of the place.”
“I hope so,” she said.
“I hope so too…”
I thought about the possibility of running into someone. I would be civil to whoever we met along the way, but I wouldn’t think twice about killing anyone who was a threat. I just hoped Thais would forgive my trigger-happy finger.
“But…why aren’t we heading south yet? It’s been a while, and we’ve been spending all our energy going in the wrong direction—Atticus, I don’t think the raiders are following us this way.”
I was beginning to think she was right, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I told her we’d hide out in the forest for another week at most, and if no one had come for us by then, then we’d head south.
What I didn’t tell her was that I was having doubts about Shreveport. I was doubting Edgar again. I doubted everything and everyone, but I’d press on, and I’d turn in whatever direction fate told me to turn—except east. Problem was, I believed in fate about as much as I believed in God.
The Shawnee National Forest was vast and deep; we traveled hours through it, and stopped often to rest. Thais forced me to take off my boots, though I argued about how we didn’t have time for that. But Thais got her way. I couldn’t tell her no, as much as I wanted to.
By late afternoon, a cabin finally came into view, surrounded by trees.
“Hellooo!” I called out.
No answer came.
“Is anybody here?” I tried again.
“I think there’s a pond.” Thais pointed.
I looked through the woods and saw the glimmer of water reflected by the sun. The cabin alone was a godsend—if it was empty—but a cabin with a pond next to it was almost too good to be true.
“We’ll check out the cabin first,” I said and took her free hand.
On the back side of the cabin, we approached the rock porch cautiously, and when we came upon the door, I peered inside, my gun raised.
The cabin was empty. Hardwood floors stretched throughout the space, dull and marked by scuffs and scattered by leaves that must’ve blown in through the back door. A sofa was situated in the center of the room, next to a tall wooden beam that helped hold the roof up. A kitchenette sat off to the right with a tiny two-burner butane stove and a refrigerator and a sink. A microwave sat on the counter next to a coffee pot and a dish drainer half filled with clean dishes covered with dust and cobwebs.
The sound of my boots tapping against the wood floor echoed through the cabin as there wasn’t much furniture to absorb the sound. I went toward the short hallway where two doors were set in the wall on each side, and I motioned at Thais to stay where she was.
The bathroom was simple with a shower and a toilet and a tiny pedestal sink. I reached out and twisted a squeaky faucet handle, but no water came out. I didn’t expect that any would but it never hurt to try. I left the bathroom and came to another open room; a full-size mattress was laid out on the floor, pressed into the far corner where one solid wall met another with a window. A box of clothes lay on the floor of a closet; two wire hangers dangled from a rod; a little pull-string light hung from the closet ceiling.
The cabin was clear. It seemed no one had lived here, or had even been here in a long time. Anything that could’ve been of much use had already been taken.
When I emerged from the hallway, I saw the front door open and Thais standing on the porch.
“I think he killed himself,” she said when I joined her outside.
A skeleton wearing blue jeans and a black T-shirt sat in a rocking chair, the long, bony legs splayed, the arms hung over the chair arms sloppily.
I peered in closer at the hole in the top of the skull.
“Or, maybe someone killed him,” Thais changed her mind.
“No,” I said, pointing at the wound, “you were right the first time. I doubt someone would go to the trouble of shooting him at that angle.
THAIS & (ATTICUS)
Examining the hole in the top of the head without touching it, I agreed. The man must have put the gun into his mouth, angled it upward toward his brain, and pulled the trigger. I thought of my mother and sister, saddened by all the death, especially the suicides. Could I ever do it? I thought I could. I had wanted to that night I found Sosie hanging from the window. I could have ended it then; all I had to do was pull the trigger. But I was too afraid. And now that I thought back on it, I realized it wasn’t only cowardice—I would never forget the look of pain and torture in Atticus’ eyes as he begged me not to do it. If it hadn’t been for Atticus, would I have done it? Would I have had the courage? I thought I may never know.
“Let’s go inside,” Atticus said.
(I took Thais by the elbow, sensing what she was thinking so deeply about, and right then I made the decision to get rid of the skeleton soon so she wouldn’t ever have to look at it again, to be reminded of the horrors that had shaped her life.)
THAIS