Percival Everett - Half an Inch of Water - Stories

The woman nodded. She might laugh at you.

How do I say friend?

Sadie showed him. Crossed fingers this way and that.

Got it. And that’s about all my old head can hold. And is Penny left- or right-handed?

Right. She does some things with her left. She brushes her teeth with her left hand. I’ve tried and I can’t do it.

I know you were making breakfast, but did she eat anything this morning?

Nothing.

Did she drink water?

She always drinks a lot of water. Oh, she had a juice box, too.

Good, that’s a good thing. What about her shoes? What kind of shoes is she wearing?

Sneakers, Sadie said. You know, those kind the kids love with the heels that light up. They’re a little small on her. I guess that doesn’t matter.

It matters, Sam said. Everything matters. Tell me, is Penny a smart girl?

All As. She’s very, very smart. She knows the capitals of all the states.

How much does she weigh?

Not much. I don’t know. She’s little. Fifty pounds? Not even.

Thanks, Sadie. We’re going to find her, okay? That was what Sam said, because that’s was what one always said in these situations. He’d been a tracker for a long time and he’d never once set out believing he would find anyone.

Sam walked back to the sheriff.

You need an article of clothing for your dog? Dale asked.

She’s not a scent dog. She can’t smell bacon cooking. But any dog is better than three men.

The roan over there is what Eddie drove over for you. He’s driving the highway, just in case. And here’s a radio, for all the good it will do you. Just try it periodically. It might work.

Dale’s radio awoke with static and he stepped away, trying to find a stronger signal. Sam looked at the map again, then walked over to where Sadie had last seen the child throwing rocks. He picked up a few stones and hurled them at a boulder. Not far from the yellow formation was a narrow wash between waist-high walls. Not so intriguing for an adult, Sam thought, but probably irresistible for a child. The ground there had been pretty well trampled by men’s boots and shod horses, and then it became rocky. He decided he’d follow the wash.

He walked back to the roan, gave him a rub on the neck. He knew the horse, had treated him a couple of times. He of course knew the horse did not remember him. He tightened the cinch of the synthetic saddle. The horse was a short, sturdy, big-butted quarter horse, good for breaking through growth. He mounted, whistled for Zip, and rode on.

Into the ravine. The walls were saddle high until they opened up, spread away from the wash as it widened, and joined another drainage. He saw where a couple of riders had gone on north. He veered down and around a steep hill and rode on a mile or so. He checked his radio and already it was useless. These hills were full of something magnetic, he figured, or it was just spirits and Old Dave had been right. He messed with the squelch on the radio and was able to hear Dale swearing at the other end.

He rode on slowly, looking ahead and scouting the distance and casting a glance down to study the ground and brush. He looked for something, anything, the tiniest thing out of the ordinary, a drag, a broken stick, even an animal acting strangely. The ground was baked hard with a fine layer of loose sand that the wind played with. He dismounted and looked closely at the surface, moved his sight up slowly, squinted. He stared and stared. A lopsided creosote bush caught his eye. He led the horse to it. It was broken about a foot off the ground. It was a fairly fresh break. Anything could have caused the damage; he knew that. Still it was something. He combed the ground around and near the bush. Then, in a spot protected from the wind, he thought he saw some transfer of soil over pebbles. Hardly a definite sign, but he decided to view it as transfer and that gave him a direction. He observed the clouds and sky to the east. Back in the saddle, he watched Zip sniff around some coyote scat. She left it in short order and heeled to the roan.

Sam rode up to a bit of high ground and looked over the terrain. He had come to an expanse of flat ground. Far off to the north he could make out a couple of riders. Above him a hawk circled high. There was an outcropping to the east, the direction he’d chosen. There was nothing between him and the rocks and so he rode toward the formation, the light sinking behind him.

The sun was a couple of hours from setting and was already giving the west-facing rocks an eerie bronze shimmer. The wind picked up and blew sand in sheets. There would be no trail, human or otherwise. He stopped and examined a couple of odd spots, thought one might have been where a small person had stopped to rest. He recalled how easy it was for a man to see what he wanted to see.

The outcropping was surprisingly larger than it had seemed from a distance. There was plenty of space between boulders for a person to wander into and get lost. The wind was whipping now and in these rocks it was bouncing and twisting in all directions. The temperature was dropping. He considered letting the horse stand on a dropped rein, but tied up to some sage instead. He tried the radio. Nothing. He looked at the sky for a plane or helicopter. Nothing.

Sam left the horse and with Zip wended his way into the formation. They came out into a bowl, the floor of which was an expanse of flat rock. On the table of rock were a considerable number of rattlesnakes basking in the last rays of the day’s sun, trying to collect all the warmth they could from the stone. In the middle of the flat area, in the middle of the snakes, was a washtub-shaped rock and on it sat a little girl. Sam called out and immediately realized the futility in that. He told Zip to stay, said it twice. His actions now were very important. If he startled the child she might panic and move into the snakes. He didn’t know if she was aware of the snakes. His back was to the west and so he would be in silhouette. Also, with his back to the west he couldn’t use his watch face or anything else to reflect the sun to get the girl’s attention. He moved left, moved to put the sun someplace else. He could see that her eyes were open, but she stared blankly at the rocks thirty or so feet in front of her. He was losing the day. It was colder still. He reached down and collected a handful of pebbles. He repeated his command to Zip to stay. He walked into the snakes, wishing he were wearing taller boots. His Wellingtons came up only to midcalf.

He pitched a pebble at the girl. It landed without effect near her heels. He tossed another and it skittered across the plane of rock in front of her and she saw it. She turned and looked at Sam. He froze. Stepping as he was through the snakes, he was certain that his posture, his body language would be difficult for her to read. He must have looked strange. He could see fear coming over her face. He put his hands up and signed friend to her. Whether he was doing it correctly, he didn’t know. The fact that he was signing at all at least let her know that he knew something about her. He put his hands out, palms down, as if to tell her to relax. He then pointed to the snakes. It was unclear whether she was seeing them for the first time, but she pulled her feet up onto the rock and held her knees. Good, Sam said, but didn’t know how to sign that, so he nodded. Perhaps she could read lips and then he wondered how much lip he showed under his bush of a mustache. He signed friend again. He looked back to see if Zip was obeying his last command and she was. Penny was wearing only a T-shirt and sweatpants. She was no doubt feeling the cold or would be soon. A snake rattled near Sam. He looked around and tried to locate the agitated animal. Zip barked. Sam again gestured to the child to remain calm. He took another step, watched as his boot landed between two rattlers, both just inches away. He was about twelve feet from Penny when a three-foot-long snake uncoiled and struck his boot. If the animal had rattled first he might not have been so startled, but he was and so took an awkward step and lost his balance. He put out a hand and stopped himself from falling. A small snake found his hand and bit. He stood up and the snake fell off. He looked at the bite, not believing it. He looked back at Zip and reminded her to stay. He looked at the girl, at the snakes, at his hand. Fuck, he said, fuck, fuck, fuck. He was glad the girl was deaf. He told himself to calm down. The bite pushed him on and in two steps he was on the little island with Penny.