The excursion, p.13
The Excursion, page 13
Idiots. They’re all stunted idiots.
“Will you forget about the damn knife?” Kennedy asks.
Randall passes by Amanda on his way to the kitchen. She smells like lilacs in the Spring. She follows him with her eyes.
“Have you ever done this before?” Barry asks Kennedy as Randall steps into the kitchen entryway.
“What?” Blink blink. A deer in headlights. So ridiculously vapid.
“Cooking.”
She laughs. “Not really. You?”
“No.” He chuckles. “Me neither.”
Silver spoons.
The two of them obviously grew up with servants. Not like Randall. Not like Randall and Ronald, fending for themselves every day. Searching for rye crackers in the couch cushions. Smearing stale bread with the rancid peanut butter found stuck to butter knives in the sink. Slurping half-eaten cans of kippers stolen from their father’s side of the bed while he slept. They grew up hunting for their food in that cramped, two-bedroom house, and they survived. Well, Randall survived. No one spoon fed him like these silver spoon, bitching babies.
Kennedy puts her wine glass on the counter, pivots, and hefts her bottom up. She sits there like a dim-witted child, swinging her legs. Stupid. She’s so profoundly stupid, and now she’s drunk. She leans forward, grabs Barry’s shirt, pulls him to her. She locks her legs around him and they kiss.
It’s sloppy. It’s disgusting.
Still standing in the kitchen entryway, Randall senses motion behind him and turns. Miss Highsmith is descending the stairs on the other side of the dining room. He turns back to the groping couple by the stove. “Get control of yourselves,” he tells them. “Cooking won’t be necessary. You’ll be leaving soon.”
Kennedy pulls her lips off Barry’s. “Not until after we eat. I’m starving.”
“Watch out, babe.” Barry turns a knob on the stove. “It’s gonna get hot in here.”
Kennedy giggles and reattaches their wet, slippery lips.
Randall wheels from the spectacle. “Miss Highsmith,” he says. “Please, come here.”
“How’s Jacob doing?” Amanda asks. She stands and follows Miss Highsmith.
“Excuse me,” Miss Highsmith says, and Randalls steps aside so she and Amanda can enter the kitchen. “He’s better.” She turns abruptly and eyes Randall. Who does she think she is? She’s tall for a woman, but Randall still towers over her. He towers over everyone, in one way or another. “This is our cabin,” she says, “and we’re not leaving. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not—”
Randall raises his hand. This woman’s eyes betray no fear. This confidence could be a natural part of her, or it could have come from something she knows. Something she could use against him. Something she saw in the boathouse. “Where did you go when you were outside?”
“To look for Jacob.”
“No. Tell me exactly where you went.”
“Why?”
Barry extricates himself from his loathsome girlfriend’s limbs and drops a steak onto a skillet, then turns a knob on the stovetop.
Kennedy hops off the counter and refills her wine glass.
Randall stares down his nose at Miss Highsmith. “Why won’t you answer me?” His neck tenses. “I asked you outside, and I’m asking you again. Where did you go?”
“She told you,” Amanda says. “She was looking for Jacob. Where did you find him, Charly?”
“I followed his tracks to the cars out front, came around the side, went down the hill toward the lake, and there he was, okay?”
“Down the hill?” Randall asks. “By the boathouse?”
Miss Highsmith turns toward the stove. “Is there enough for Jacob and me?”
“I think so,” Barry says. “We have six steaks.”
Randall walks into the kitchen and puts his hand on Miss Highsmith’s shoulder. “Did you go inside the boathouse?”
“No.” She jerks away.
“Look at me.” He fills his chest and locks his jaw. “Did you go inside the boathouse?”
She doesn’t respond. Instead, she steps into the kitchen entryway and looks toward the stairs, then the french doors.
“If she did, she’d tell you,” Amanda says. “Right, Charly? You don’t lie, do you? You’ve never lied, or cheated, or done anything wrong. Right?” Her lips curl. “Have you?” She takes Randall’s arm in one hand. “Relax, Randall. Can I call you Randall?”
Her touch threatens to derail his question. He must know what, if anything, Miss Highsmith saw. If she hadn’t seen anything, she would have answered no immediately. But, if she did see Tyler, moaning like a wounded seal—locked up in the cage—would she tell him? Here, in front of all these people?
Probably not.
Her half-wit brother might have also seen Tyler, but he wouldn’t lie. He couldn’t. He has mental issues. People like that can’t lie because they lack the mental strength to do so. Perhaps Randall should question him.
He gently removes Amanda’s hand from his arm, holds onto her fingers, then lowers them to her side. “I have something I’ve been working on for my organization in the boathouse. It’s top secret, and I’ve been charged to keep it as such. I simply need to know if Miss Highsmith or her brother happened inside and saw it. If so, I’d be obliged to have them sign a non-disclosure agreement.”
“Oh, why didn’t you say so?” Amanda brushes her hair back. Smiles. “It’s just business. Charly? Did you go inside the boathouse?”
Miss Highsmith turns around and stands there, blocking the kitchen entryway, hesitating to answer.
“Please.” Randall’s head throbs. The cheap Scotch he drank earlier backfires inside his brain. “Answer her.”
Cam appears behind Miss Highsmith in the entryway. Gazes into the kitchen over her shoulder. She doesn’t see him. In fact, Randall had forgotten he was out there. The man is incomplete. He’s an example of why evolution is so important. Survival of the fittest. He is a neanderthal on the outside and a cretin on the inside.
Miss Highsmith jumps, startled by Cam’s presence.
“It’s started snowing again,” Cam murmurs. “The road’s going to be getting worse.”
Barry’s steaks sizzle in the pan, popping and crackling.
“Tell us, Charly.” Amanda hasn’t given up. “Did you and Jacob go inside the boathouse?” She leans toward Miss Highsmith. “What did you see in there? What’s the secret?”
Miss Highsmith doesn’t respond. The way she looks at Amanda intrigues Randall. He has difficulty reading her. He definitely can’t trust her. He senses hatred in her. A great reservoir of hatred hidden behind a poker face. She’s not going to keep secrets from him. He won’t allow it. Whether or not she speaks the truth is another thing. He must act as if she did go inside the boathouse.
He can’t let her get away with this.
Kennedy pours herself another glass of wine.
“Stop it.” Barry takes the bottle away from her. “You’ve had enough. You’re leaving.”
“What? Why?”
“Something’s not right.” He takes in the room. “That knife shouldn’t be missing.”
“I don’t understand.”
"I can’t do this with everyone here. Someone’s got that knife, and—I’m going on the hunt no matter what. Look, everyone can follow me down the mountain like Mr. Thorne asked, then you can go with them. Let’s finish cooking, eat, and then you can get the hell out of here.”
“No,” Randall says. “No one is leaving.”
“What?” Barry scowls. “Why not?”
“I’m okay with that,” Cam says. “It’s still snowing out there.”
“Me too. I want to stay.” Amanda steps closer to Randall. “Where did you get those cufflinks?”
“What do you mean no one is leaving?” Kennedy takes a drink of her wine. “Barry apparently wants me gone now.”
Her imbecilic voice runs like acid over Randall’s brain. He needs a break. “Excuse me,” he says, motioning for Charly to move out of his way so he can step into the dining room. He wipes his forehead. The french door windows reflect the dining table. The living room windows reflect the fireplace. He cannot see outside, but he trusts the neanderthal’s observation. “If the snow continues, there may be too much on the road by the time everyone has eaten.” He turns around and faces the group. “I wish for all of you to stay the night.”
“No,” Barry says. “They should leave now before it snows more.”
Randall struggles to keep his voice down. “Everyone is staying.”
Kennedy grasps Barry’s arm. “If you don’t want me here . . . I want to leave now, too. It’s only snow.”
“No!” Randall raises his hands. “No one leaves, you drunken imbecile.”
Kennedy turns toward the hall closet, lowers her chin, and closes her eyes.
“Hey,” Barry says. “Don’t talk to her that way.”
Randall sighs. Squeezes his temples.
“I wasn’t going anywhere anyway,” Miss Highsmith says. “This is my cabin.”
“I’m staying, too.” Cam straightens his back. “I want to go for a walk in the woods.”
“There might be too much snow for that,” Amanda says.
“I don’t have a choice. I’m going for a walk in the woods tomorrow no matter what. It’s why I came.” The moron never blinks.
Miss Highsmith glares at Amanda. “Are you staying?”
Amanda steps near Randall, practically brushing up against him. Lilacs in the Spring. “That depends. Other than freezing in the woods with Cam, is there something fun we could do?”
“I’m certain you’ll think of something.” Randall eyes Kennedy. She sips her wine. “It’s settled then. No one leaves the cabin tonight.”
“Shit.” Barry grabs a spatula and shoves it under the steak. Tries to flip it, but it’s stuck.
Randall opens a drawer and retrieves a set of tongs. He rips the burnt steak from the pan and holds it in the air. “Don’t worry. We have more.” He pictures pressing the hot side against Miss Highsmith’s face. Deforming her dispassionate features. Her cheeks. Her lips. Her chin. She’s the reason there’s no peace right now. She’s the reason for the pain in his head. It’s not the blended Scotch.
It’s the risk of losing everything.
He can’t allow her and her brother to leave.
Not tonight.
Not tomorrow.
Not ever.
“I’m not staying here tonight.” Barry stomps his foot. Puts his hands on his hips. “You can’t make me.”
Randall drops the steak into the pan, raw side down. A ball of smoke flies into the air. He places the tongs on the counter and motions for Barry to come closer. Barry does so, and Randall speaks under his breath. “You’re staying. You paid to be here, and that’s what you’re going to do. You paid to experience the power of a Zaroff excursion, and that’s what you’re going to get. Besides, I need your help. We have a lot of hunting to do.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHARLY - THEN
Amanda wasn’t yelling squee every time she found a clue because she was excited. She did it to drive me mad.
And it worked.
I chased her, swerving along the bending trail, dodging the trees. I knew better. I knew I should have gone back to the cabin and searched for Jacob. He’d fallen farther and farther behind since the game began, but I couldn’t help myself.
I wanted to win.
But I hadn’t found a single clue.
The trail led me between two boulders twice my height. They had once been one boulder. I imagined a massive lightning strike splitting it in two. Coarse and cracked—I dragged my fingertips over the surfaces as I passed in between, and finally, on the other side, I spied a piece of paper hiding near a log. I lunged for it, but Amanda surged out from behind a tree as though she’d been waiting for just this moment and snatched it up. She smiled. Held the clue in the air. “Another one. That makes four for me. Squee. How many have you found?”
“What’s it say?”
“Like I would tell you. Have you found any clues?
“We’re”—I gasped for air—“doing fine.”
“We’re? You and who else?” She made a show of looking around her. “The last time I saw Jacob, he was limping away like a baby.”
“His leg hurts. Did you see which way he went?”
She pointed in the cabin’s direction. If he went that way, I’d be in trouble for sure. I was supposed to be watching him.
Amanda stuffed the clue into her bag and pulled the zipper shut. “I think I know where the prize is. Where are your clues?”
“Jacob has them.” I turned to run. “I’ve got to find him. We’re close to winning, too.”
“No, I don’t think you are. You might as well give up.”
I ran back between the boulders and headed for the cabin. I needed to get there before Jacob complained to Dad.
Dad.
If I could find him, he could help me, and I would still have a chance. The trees blurred. I pounded through the forest, no longer searching for clues.
Footsteps sounded behind me. “Charly, wait. Stop.”
I turned, and Cam came running up. “What?”
“You have to help me.” He held a knife in one hand.
I took a step back. “Help you what? I have to go.”
“No. I have a plan. Help me catch a raccoon, and I’ll let you win.”
“Have you seen Jacob?”
“He went that way.” Like Amanda, Cam pointed in the cabin’s direction. “I think he gave up.”
“Thanks.” Time was running out. Jacob had definitely gone back to the cabin. “I’ve got to go.”
“No.” Cam grasped my arm. “You have to help me. I have a plan, but I can’t find the cage. I need it to trap a raccoon. If you help me, and we catch one, I’ll give you the tail. Then, you can say you found the prize and win.”
“That’s stupid. Let go of me. What are you going to trap it with? Do you have any food?” I pulled my arm away.
“No.”
“Do you know how to set the trap on the cage?”
“No.” His upper lip begins to shake. “I’ll figure it out. Won’t you please help me find it? I’ll give you the tail.”
“No. I’m not helping you kill another raccoon. I’m going to win fair and square.”
With help from Dad, of course.
“Charly,” he called as I sprinted away. “You’re going to lose if you don’t—”
I ran out of the forest and onto the lawn at full speed. The lake stretched out beneath the blue sky, as still as still could be. Not a boat in sight. The boathouse’s windows were dark and lifeless, hidden from the sun beneath the eves. I sprinted up the hill toward the deck and carefully opened the french doors to the dining room. I didn’t want to wake Mom, assuming she was still asleep upstairs.
“Dad?” I said in a hush.
Nothing.
I tip-toed through the cabin until I was sure he wasn’t there. Neither was Jacob. Back on the deck, I gazed at the lawn. The forest. Somewhere out there, Amanda was zeroing in on the prize, and I was stuck here looking for my brother. I resented him for this. I wished he’d never been born.
Dad had forbidden us from going inside the boathouse, but this was an emergency. I was losing.
The boathouse door creaked when I opened it. Dust thrust up into the light cast from the window above the workbench. I almost sneezed. My eyes adjusted to the darkness. The canoe lay before three kayaks against the far wall. Tackle boxes and fishing poles. A shovel and a rake. A raccoon trap.
Maybe I should help Cam.
No.
He was sick.
Dad wouldn’t have fallen for it anyway.
It would have been cheating. It wouldn’t have been fair to the others, but none of this was fair to me. It was all Jacob’s fault. He held me back, and it wasn’t fair. My entire life—Charly, can you watch Jacob while I go to the store? Charly, I’m sorry, but I can’t take you to soccer practice because Jacob has a doctor’s appointment. Charly, don’t invite more than two friends over at a time. You know how crowds upset your brother.
I needed to find Dad and explain it to him. We needed to start the game over, this time, without Jacob.
“Charly? Are you in there?”
Someone was coming. I was caught. Caught in the boathouse.
Hot energy surged down my legs. Run. Run. Run.
“Charly?” Jacob called.
Thank God.
“Jacob, it’s you.” I closed the boathouse door behind me and stepped into the sunlight.
He came limping across the lawn.
“Where were you?” I asked.
“Were you in the boathouse, Charly? You’re not supposed to be in the boathouse. No one is supposed to go into the boathouse.”
“I was looking for you. Why’d you leave?”
“You left me. Why do you always leave me?”
“You’re too slow.”
“I have shin splints.” He hobbled over near the boathouse and sat on the ground. “It hurts.”
“Get up. We have to go.”
“No. I quit. I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can. C’mon. I can’t leave you here.”
“Why not? You left me everywhere else.”
“Dad said I had to watch you. Now, get up.”
“Stay and watch me, then.” He grasped his leg. “Stay with me.”
“But . . . the game.” A distant squee sounded through the trees. “Please, Jacob, won’t you try?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHARLY
Shiny wooden chairs, cloth napkins, and sparkling silverware surround the dining table. The wagon wheel chandelier illuminates the dining room, making for a pleasant atmosphere, but the food—yuck. My steak is black on one side and pink on the other. I doubt Barry has ever been in a kitchen before. It was nice of him and Kennedy to try, but my food is almost inedible. And worse, with the snow coming down hard again, I don’t think I’ll be able to convince them to leave tonight. They’ve become too comfortable here.
