Liver made some guttural noises. He seemed to be having a private debate in his head.
“I know a place,” he said. “But you need to pull over and let me drive.” He pointed a finger at Jasper, talking to his reflection via the rearview. “And your squirrely eyes have got to be blindfolded.”
“Absolutely not!” Jasper yelled. But then he took another look at Liver and put on the turn signal to exit.
19
JASPER WAS NOT SURE ABOUT CRITTER OR SPLEEN OR WHATEVER the man’s name was. Hazel had admitted she’d only known him for a few weeks, alleged they’d met by chance at a bar.
What if it wasn’t by chance? What if the guy was working for Gogol?
Jasper wished for the scenario to be closer to what he’d envisioned signing up for in the first place—just him and a de-chipped Hazel, making their escape.
Instead he now found himself blindfolded between two sex mannequins, listening to Liver narrate about some friend of his who owned a manure farm with forty acres of forest behind it. “Essentially a Bermuda triangle of undiscovered evidence. Chippy keeps to himself down on the farm,” Liver stressed. “And due to the property’s remote location and odor, his privacy is universally respected.”
Jasper didn’t want to have to trust another person—Liver was already one more than he’d been planning on—and he tried to voice this protest in the politest way possible. “It’s just that if he sees me and Hazel and then later gets offered a persuasive bribe, say . . .”
“Chippy won’t know you’re there,” Liver said. “I’m going to stay behind and make sure your tracks are covered. You’ll be long gone before Chippy would get wind of it. That’s what I’m telling you. It’s the place.”
THE PLACE, OFF AN OVERGROWN TRAIL INSIDE A SERIES OF DENSE woods, was essentially a parallel universe. Its fauna looked like crude near-replicas of living things. All the plants’ evolution seemed to have been dependent on retainer trays they’d been too lax about wearing and their biological design had therefore slipped back a few hundred centuries. The bark of the pine trees was coated with a powdery orange spice. Liver and Jasper somberly carried the cooler with the air of two pallbearers, one on each side, while Hazel carried Liver’s rucksack and the shovel.
The tall grass was waxier and more juice-filled than Hazel was used to grass being. It made her feel squeamish, like she was stepping on bugs.
Jasper looked like he was having a breakdown. His eyes were watering; he’d put his shirt over his nose and mouth to provide a thin filter for the smell. “I just don’t want to die out here,” he said again. He’d said it a few times since they’d arrived. “I feel like we should get moving soon. It would be an irony, right, to get found and killed because we stopped to have a funeral.”
“Sorry,” Hazel said. “I need to.” She had a lot of sympathy for Jasper. It was generous of him to be risking so much for her. In the car he’d talked about a woman he was in love with, a woman he was never going to see again. It’s almost like she died, he said.
Not being Byron’s wife anymore, if the chip deactivation worked, meant the rest of Hazel’s life would be as if she’d died too. That would be the perception of everyone. That Hazel was gone, forever.
“I think here will work,” Liver said. “Lots of trees and shrub cover. This spot okay?”
Hazel nodded and they set down the cooler; Liver enlisted Jasper to go back to the car with him and get Di and Roxy, and Hazel was left alone with dusk drawing near. She felt exhausted and still a little drugged and sat down on the cooler without thinking for a moment, then remembered its contents and stood back up. She was thirsty and looking at the cooler felt strange. Her brain kept telling her to open the lid, insisting it had to be filled with drinks. Why couldn’t that miracle happen—why couldn’t she peer inside and find that her father’s body had been transformed into rows and rows of frosted beer bottles?
Jasper was heading down the trail with Roxy, carrying her via piggyback to better bear the load. Liver came into view on the path a few minutes later ferrying Di. Hazel hadn’t thought to put them into more modest clothing before they’d left the house. Di had on a sequinned tube top and an orange miniskirt; Roxy was wearing a bikini top and spandex underwear that read CELEBRATE across the backside. They placed a doll on either side of the cooler and all gathered in front of it.
“Should we all say a few words?” Liver asked.
“He was dead when I met him,” Jasper said.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean anything personal by it,” Liver answered. A natural moment of silence followed. “I noticed he spoke his mind,” Liver said. “That can be a good quality. Well, sometimes.”
Hazel thought for a moment. What had she admired most about him? There were a lot of things he managed not to get addicted to, which she thought was impressive if someone lived to old age. He never tried, to her knowledge, to ruin anyone’s life on purpose. “Sometimes he made me laugh,” she said.
“Should we have the dolls pretend to say something?” Jasper asked. “We could do voices for them.” Hazel saw Liver’s face start to twitch. “Like they were in love? I know I mentioned that I recently fell in love, for the very first time. Things didn’t work out though. Oh well. It sort of feels like being buried alive, actually. In a way. I can’t get out from underneath it to think about anything else. Ha! It’s like it’s pinning me down every moment.” He started to cry a little, which Hazel thought was actually good, even though the tears weren’t technically for her father. It was a funeral and any tears counted.
Liver placed his hand on Hazel’s shoulder. “Do you want some time alone with him?”
She shook her head. If the chip was still working, time alone with him wasn’t even possible. “What’s the plan for the body?”
“Can Hazel and I have a moment?” Liver turned to Jasper. “Why don’t you wait in the car? She’ll be down soon.”
Jasper nodded eagerly. “I’ll have the engine going.”
Hazel reached out and gripped Liver’s hand. She couldn’t tell if he liked this or merely tolerated it. He wasn’t big on reciprocal touch, but he didn’t pull away either.