Chapter 2: Crossing Denial River

Mile 147

“YOU THINK I’M my mother’s daughter?” I asked Misty as we drove down the twisting road along a river. It bothered me. I just killed some hombre—I think. Maybe I should be in the cell next to my mother. How could people just ignore that and not even call the cops?

“Honey, you’re asking the wrong person. My sister is fifteen years older than me. By the time I knew who she was, she was married and living two states away. And I didn’t know her husband at all, so I couldn’t tell you if he deserved killing like that bastard back at the diner. I know Mam and Pop weren’t that surprised,” Misty said. She reached over and patted my thigh.

No flashing red lights had come tearing up behind us, so I was guessing nobody cared about the guy I offed. Still couldn’t believe I killed him with my mortarboard. At least I think I killed him. I never actually examined the body. Maybe it was all a set up.

“Well, I wiped most of that from my memory. Maybe someday a therapist worth her wage will dissect my brain and discover what kind of childhood I had. I really don’t care much anymore. About either of them,” I said. I looked at the twisting river off the side of the road. Seemed like it was getting significantly bigger as we traveled. “I’m sure I remember some town along here that Mam and Pop took us to so we could see the Christmas decorations. Are we still on the same road?”

“There’s no town marked on the map along here,” Misty replied. “Looks like we cross the river in a couple of miles and continue on the other side. But no town.”

“Well turn up the radio. Let’s find out what station we’re listening to.”

We rode on and found the bridge. It looked like a pretty nice and fancy bridge to be out here in the wilderness like this. Even had streetlights marking it.

“Now this is just too strange,” I said. “Who puts a bridge in the middle of nowhere with streetlights on it?”

“Oh, what was that story? The one where the kids climb in the closet and come out in a different world. There was a lamppost there.”

“The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. We are not in Narnia. My head can’t accept that. There must be some more logical explanation.”

“Yeah. How about if there’s a troll who lives under the bridge and he likes to be able to see what he’s eating,” Misty giggled.

“Oh, thanks a lot. That image will haunt my dreams. You’re gross!” We laughed and kept driving, but I yawned pretty powerfully. “Do you think maybe we should find a hotel or something for the night? I’m getting tired.”

“You think?” Misty asked. It took a second before I figured she was responding to the idea of needing a place to stay. “The TripTik says turn left and go to campsite 33.”

“You’re kidding. Turn where?”

“There!”

I slewed the car around and just barely made the corner into a campground I never even saw a sign for. I wasn’t sure what good a campground was going to do us when what I wanted was a nice hot bath and a hotel bed.

“You could have given me more warning!” I yelled as I started looking for the campsite. Being told to camp here seemed just as normal as anything else that happened today. I was still hoping to see a Holiday Inn at the campsite. These were my travel documents Misty was reading from. I probably had a reservation.

“I swear it didn’t say anything about a campsite when I was looking at the bridge location,” she pouted. “Over there. That’s site 33.” I pulled into the campsite and stopped the car. The campsite had the same logo on it that I wore on my gown. WW with a flaming basketball. Fuck!

I got out of the car and stretched. It was actually a pretty comfortable ride, but too long in one position makes me crazy. Roadkill jumped out of the backseat and found a place to relieve himself before he even started sniffing around. Didn’t blame him for that. I spied a washhouse just a little ways away.

“I’m headed for the girls’ room,” I called to Misty.

“Okay. I’ll get some water for Roadkill. Whole campground looks deserted.”

“Well, keep an eye out just in case.” I wasn’t sure I knew in case of what. I wasn’t expecting to have to throw my hat at some phantom rapist or anything. Course, I didn’t expect to do that the first time. I gathered up my robes and perched myself above the stool. Place looked clean enough, but why take chances with your butt? I had all kinds of images of rattlesnakes or something coming up out of the toilet. I got done quick and went out to wash my hands. There was even hot water in the faucets. I looked around and saw shower stalls with actual doors on them—not just a plastic curtain. I guessed maybe I was overreacting to the idea in my head about snakes.

I left the washroom and nearly stepped on one.

I screamed and the snake slithered away. I know, it was probably more afraid of me than I was of it, but I could scream louder. Roadkill and Misty reached me at a dead run.

“What is it? What happened?” Misty gasped. Roadkill started sniffing around.

“A snake. That’s all. Just scared the shit out of me.”

“Didn’t you do that in the toilet?” Misty said. Roadkill rubbed up against me. “Well, while I’m down here, I’ll empty the bladder, too. Um...”

“Roadkill and me’ll wait here for you,” I said. She smiled and nodded.

A few minutes later, she came out looking much refreshed. “Hot water!” she said happily.

“I figure I’ll make use of the shower in the morning,” I agreed as we walked back up to the campsite.

“Uh ... Do we have a blanket or anything?” Misty asked. It was cooling off here in the foothills and we put our arms around each other as we walked.

“Not that I know of,” I said. “Pop always keeps an emergency kit in the trunk of his Fusion. Maybe there’s one in the Fairlane. I think we could put the back seat down and open the hatch. We might have enough room to lie down and Roadkill can keep us warm.” We reached the campsite and Misty went to brush off the picnic table and pace around. I unlocked the hatchback and looked inside. “Misty? Did you do this?”

“Do what, hon?” She came around to look in the back. Roadkill put his front feet up on the opening so he could see in, too. The back was packed tight with everything I could think of that we’d need. There were sleeping bags, pillows, a tent, camp stools, a cooler, two huge backpacks, and my teddy bear. Don’t laugh. A girl needs something nice and soft to cuddle up to at night and all I had was a teddy bear. “I guess we get to camp out,” Misty said. She looked at me as if I had all this planned. I just shrugged my shoulders and looked right back at her shrugging hers.

We went about making camp, setting up the tent, and putting things away inside. Then Roadkill came up to me dragging a dead tree limb behind him.

“I don’t think we can play fetch with that,” I said. “But we could build a fire.” I looked in the car and sure enough, there was a camp saw, a hatchet, and a bunch of fire starters. We learned to make those in Girl Scouts when I was in junior high. They were just sawdust and paraffin, poured in a paper muffin cup. I started breaking up the smaller bits of the limb and sawing off bigger chunks as Misty rummaged around in the trunk to see what else we might have.

“The packs have clothes in them.”

“Huh. I was kind of getting used to the gown.”

“Isn’t it scratchy?”

“I think it was when I put it on this afternoon. Maybe I’ve just sweated and wiggled enough that it softened up. It actually feels kind of comfortable now. More like a bathrobe.”

Before long, I had a fire going and Misty was heating water for instant hot cocoa. Roadkill had finished his kibble, done his business, and settled down on my feet. It had been my own sense of rebellion that inspired me to wear my boots under my gown. And nothing else but underwear.

We hummed happily and sipped our cocoa, watching the campground darken outside the range of our firelight.

“Uh ... Excuse me ... Pardon me ... Not to intrude, but would you kind people have a cup of that you could spare?” a voice asked out of the darkness. I was startled. Misty was startled. Roadkill was asleep. Good guard dog. Not.

A kind of scarecrow-looking guy was standing at the edge of our campsite, looking longingly at our cocoa. By scarecrow, I don’t mean tall and skinny. That’s me, remember? I mean he had kind of ragged clothes on, a straw hat, and an old flannel shirt that looked like he’d slept in it under a pile of dead pine needles. He had kind of straw-colored hair sticking out under the hat in all directions. He was leaning on a walking stick almost as tall as he was and had a backpack on. Misty recovered first.

“Got a cup in your kit?” she asked. “We can spare a packet of cocoa and hot water.”

He swung the pack off his back and detached a tin cup from the side of it. This he handed to Misty and then dragged his pack closer to the fire so he could sit on it. Misty prepared his cocoa and handed it to him, then picked up her own cup and started to sip.

“Thank you. Thank you kindly. Travelers need to help each other out,” he said. I listened carefully. His voice sounded more cultured than he looked.

“We have absolutely no idea what we’re doing out here,” I blurted out. “Nice to have company.”

“I haven’t much, but I’ve a little prime ganja I’d be willing to share.” He rummaged around in a side pocket of his pack and pulled out a baggy and a pack of papers. Misty and I just looked at each other with big eyes and grinned. A little weed would make our impromptu campout a lot more pleasant.

Now, it’s not like we’re big potheads. I mean that, really. That doesn’t mean we’ve never toked up a bit, though. It’s never really a bad thing, and a guy who’s high on weed is usually too mellow to be a threat. I didn’t see where he pulled his lighter from and didn’t see him put it away. He took a big drag and held the pinch out to me. I sucked in a bit and held it, passing the blunt on to Misty. She always gets to coughing on her first hit, but she sucked a second in and managed to hold that. She held it back out to Scarecrow, but he already had another in his hand and was lighting it up, so she handed it back to me. She had that same look of almost instant change of space I knew I got when I smoked. I sucked in another lungful of the potent weed.