Dennis Yates - Minus Tide

I should have realized how much you and Duane were alike. How selfish you were, how easily you could put me in danger and not seem to care.

And here I am. Alive I guess, only because the throbbing in my leg tells me so. If I was dead I wouldn’t be feeling any pain. Right?

Wrapped in a moth-eaten wool blanket, she spread her hands next to a fire and let the warmth travel up through her fingers and into her core. Except for her bra and panties, her clothes and boots had been set out to dry. She wondered who’d removed them, who’d left a nearly full bottle of mineral water next to her head. She could remember a man’s voice and nothing more.

Other than sporadic flashes of phosphorous in distant waves, the beach was dark. There were no other fires, no vacationers roasting marshmallows. She looked for the glow of town far over the ridge of dunes and saw nothing but a few stars pinned above the contours of Cougar Mountain.

She had no idea what day it was. Judging by the position of the moon, she guessed the night wasn’t more than a few hours old. What was she going to do? James was probably halfway to Portland by now. She no longer cared. He could keep the money so long as he never came back again.

The first thing you need to do is go home and check in on Aunt Kate. She must be worried sick.

She gathered her clothes from the logs and dressed. They were almost dry and felt better than the scratchy blanket that smelled faintly of motor oil. Before she pulled on her jeans, she took a moment to examine her leg. The bandage she’d put on earlier had fallen off and the wound was an angry red at the edges and not even close to scabbing over. She had nothing to protect it with and sliding her jeans over it was torture.

When she stood up to walk her leg screamed and buckled, causing her sit on a log and rest. A few moments later she gathered enough strength to get up again. She forced herself to move past the pain, one wincing step at a time.

This is pathetic. There’s no way you’re going to be able to run if you need to.

She scanned the ground for a piece of driftwood. She picked up various shapes and sizes and tested them in her hand until she found one that felt good. She found a branch leaden with seawater, about the size and shape of a femur bone. She swung it down on a bulb-head of kelp and saw it split open.

As she made her way north she tried to imagine the pain in her leg was an old wasp sting. She’d received plenty of them from her wanderings in the forest during late summer. But it didn’t work. This hurt far worse, like a rusty nail scratch that had gotten infected.

Maybe you should go back the way you came? It’s not as far as this is going to be. If James’ boat is still there you could take it up the bay and get back to your car.

She stopped when she saw the body.

At first she thought it might be a log or a large tangle of kelp. But as she got closer she saw that it was the body of a man. She started to back away.

What if it’s James?

She raised her driftwood club and stepped closer, saw flashes of pale flesh where moonlight broke through the clouds. He was lying on his back, arms and legs splayed open in the shape of an X. His face was turned toward her. When she tapped his chest with the end of her stick, pink sand fleas shot out of his open mouth like a shower of ground glass. Ann’s stomach heaved and she turned away.

It was one of the Russians. Not the one she’d shot at, but the other one. She waited for the nausea to pass before forcing herself to take another look. She’d seen her share of drowning victims-the swollen, bright blue bodies being packed into ambulances. Perhaps the only thing he had in common with them was that his clothes were soaking wet, because when she was close enough to see his neck she knew something was wrong.

Someone had slit it open. Down to the bone.

Chad had spent the night in his car and his back was sore. He’d been hungry when he awoke, and immediately in need of coffee. Pine needles had glued themselves to his windshield and he’d had to get out and wipe them off. He’d stood for a moment and savored the brine-stripped air, the blue smell of rainwater working its way down the mountain. High, milky clouds dominated the sky. It was at least an intermission from last night’s storm. Hard to tell what’s coming next, he thought.

He was surprised to find Gill’s Cafe open and a full parking lot, even more so by the barbeques sending out smoke signals. He’d sworn that he could smell the cooking meat coming from the highway, drifting off passing cars and trucks.

Chad thought he’d come upon 4 thof July in winter. Gill was giving away food to anyone who came by. He’d stuffed himself on cheeseburgers and beans simmered over a smoky fire. He was impressed by the Traitor’s community spirit. Since he was a boy he’d heard how their ways were blamed for seducing folks down darker paths, whatever that was supposed to mean. He’d never seen evidence of this himself, had always laughed it off as the dirty side of healthy town rivalries.

As far as Chad was concerned he was from both towns. His mother was from Traitor and his father had grown up in Buoy and it was said by many that his father had come and stolen her away from Traitor like a jewelry thief in the night. She was that beautiful. Many Traitor fisherman Chad’s father’s age still held a grudge.

A presumptuous old man who claimed to know Chad kept offering him beers and asking him about folks in Buoy and what kinds of trouble they were into now. And just when he’d started to feel hot in the face from the glances of others and the sense that he was going to be the butt of some elaborate joke, a highway repairman announced that the town was still effectively cut off from both sides. Chad and anyone else who’d come down from Buoy or further north might even be stranded for at least another day-unless the next storm being tracked to arrive in a few hours slowed down the road crews even more.

He couldn’t find Ann anywhere. He’d driven by her aunt’s house at least a dozen times hoping that he’d see her car. After breakfast he decided he’d better check on things and ended up spending time with her aunt. Kate was in a mild state of shock when she’d met him at the door. She’d spent the day checking to see if the phone worked, hadn’t heard or seen anyone and had no idea about the damage the storm had caused.

Chad had stayed several hours and tried to help calm her down. He made sure she had enough firewood and anything else she could think of before he left. He’d promised her that he’d keep looking for Ann. If he saw any law enforcement he’d let them know about her disappearance.

After leaving Kate, he’d gone back to the restaurant and had eaten a little and talked. There’d been a setback on the bridge work and fresh landslides on 101. He wondered if his brothers had even noticed he was gone yet. He was concerned about getting an update on how his father was doing.

He’d driven south of Traitor and spotted Ann’s car parked at the old boat ramp. He drove up close and let the headlights bathe it while he looked it over. There were no signs that anything bad had happened, just the fact that Ann was not around. It didn’t make any sense to him. Why would she have gone out in a boat now, when the river was swollen with driftwood and dangerous currents? Did she get into somebody else’s car? It didn’t seem like something she’d do. Unless someone forced her.

His nerves were shot with worry. It had been a long day and he wasn’t looking forward to spending another night in his car. He smoked half a joint and lay back in the seat, thought through the list of possibilities. Although he couldn’t prove anything, he kept circling back to the idea that she was still around somewhere not far away.