Weekend (14 page)

"I don't know what you're talking about." Yet, she was lying. His face was as familiar to her as the one in her own mirror. He nodded, reading her mind.

"You knew once, at least. Before this night is over, you will know again." He stood. He wasn't going to kiss her again. He probably wasn't going to shoot her, either. "Tie your shoes. We have to get back."

With her Nikes tied, he helped her up, brushing off her jeans. The tranquillity the wise man had bestowed was straining against this assault of fear and danger, of passion and uncertainty.

"You said you wouldn't hurt Robin," she said as they began to walk towards the house. "Are you going to hurt any of the others?"

"Only if they deserve it."

She stopped. "What if I try to stop you?"

"Don't Shani." He strode on without waiting for her. "You'd regret it."

How quick his cool could return. She had a crush on him but she honestly didn't even think she liked him. "I know who you are," she called. "You're Snake."

He turned. Without a shred of conceit in his voice, he said, "No, I'm Eagle."

On the road back, she had to stop once to be sick. Flynn — Michael — didn't even ask what was troubling her.

It began to rain.

EIGHT

Poor lighting had always irritated his eyes. The lone lamp on Robin's nightstand was little more than a night-light. Park thought of turning on the overhead lights, but he feared they might wake Robin. There was no reason for him to be sitting beside her bed, anyway. Nevertheless, he felt no inclination to move.

When he closed his eyes and listened to the drowsy rhythm of her breathing, the pelting rain against the house, he could imagine they were elsewhere, in a world of enchantment and deathless bodies. However, this rain was no boon from the gods. His remark, when they had driven up in the car yesterday, had been prophetic. With the mud, the house was now an island.

Robin was covered to her chin with a colourful patchwork quilt Shani had sewn in their freshman year.

Before falling asleep, she had taken a glass of grape juice and had reassured him that she was feeling better. He hadn't believed her. Only thirty minutes ago, she had showered, yet already her face was developing a crusty coat as her skin fought to do the job of her kidneys. What if she were to suddenly stop breathing? Out of fear of her death, he had stayed away from her, and now he clung to her side hoping to ward it off. He couldn't help feeling a crossroads was approaching, where every turn would lead to a dead end. But he was despairing, as she never did. When she awoke next, if he did not notice definite signs of improvement, he would take Sol up on his offer.

Sol had suggested — surrounding swamp or not — that even if it took them to sunrise, they should search on foot for a phone and get a doctor to Robin. They could even have a helicopter brought in.

Another thing, when she awoke, he would tell her that he wanted her back, one hundred per cent, not just as a phone pal. That meant he would have to give up Harvard in September, and his egotistical image of being a suave Ivy League Intellectual. That was okay; he could get as good an education locally if he applied himself. He hoped that she would have him. And Angie… she deserved someone who really cared for her. Bert's death had somehow made this decision clear.

He was not feeling well. He had fever and chills, on top of cramps that made him glad he wasn't a female. It was probably flu. The water in the house was safe and, besides, Montezuma's Revenge took several days to incubate. Angie had also mentioned feeling sick.

Too bad Robin didn't have their symptoms and they could pretend she merely had a virus.

"How is she?" Shani whispered, quietly entering the room.

Fresh from a shower, her long black hair drying in fine curls, her blue eyes bright in the poor light, his oldest and best friend was beautiful. She wore a loose purple blouse, tight white trousers, and a bandage around her right thumb where she had cracked her nail while hiking. When she had not returned an hour after sunset, he'd been worried. A minute more and he would have gone looking for her himself. The walk had been uneventful, she had said.

"She's been sleeping a while, now. She said that she was feeling a bit better."

"Good. Lena wanted me to tell you that dinner's ready."

His stomach groaned at the mention of food. "I'm not that hungry."

Shani pulled up a chair, and tucked in Robin's quilt. "Poor dear," she said softly. "I'm in no hurry to eat, myself."

"How are you feeling?"

She hesitated. "Not great. I guess I keep waiting for Bert to walk through the front door, laughing."

He felt the same way. "He won't be doing that."

"I know. I'm sorry about not being at Kerry's prayer reading. Maybe after dinner, we could read some more."

"If you want."

Shani sighed, glancing at the covered window. "It's raining hard. I usually like the rain."

"It's like a hurricane. Generally, they don't get any of those down here until late summer. Sol and I had to hustle to patch up the windows the blast kicked in. Of course, we had Lena prodding us with a whip."

Lightning flashed: one… two… three… Thunder bombed. Shani shivered, holding her right hand to her chest. "My finger hurts."

"Are you going to lose the nail?"

"I already did."

"Ouch. I'm glad Flynn went out looking for you."

"I didn't need his help."

"Do I note a trace of hostility? I thought you liked him."

"I don't know him."

He wondered what she would have thought if she knew Flynn carried a gun. "You knew him less before this weekend. And you liked him then."

"You're not my shrink."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it was a touchy subject."

"Everything's touchy to me right now." She glanced over her shoulder, seemingly coming to a decision.

"Park, of all those in the house right now, who do you trust the least?"

"Myself."

"I'm serious."

"Are you referring to the party?"

"Yes."

"It was an accident."

"You don't believe that."

"I do. But then, I believe there are accidents, and there areaccidents ."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not quite sure. But the police looked for the guilty, and the innocent. Maybe the truth of the matter wasn't so black and white."

"Someone either put the insecticide in the glass intentionally or accidentally. Where's the in-between?"

"I remember a programme I saw on TV about Buckminster Fuller, the inventor of the geodesic dome.

He drew a square on the chalkboard and asked the audience what they saw. Naturally, everyone said a square. But then he asked, "What about the space outside the square?" His point being, of course, that we are conditioned to automatically focus on the boundaries in life. So when you say Robin was either poisoned accidentally or intentionally, don't be so sure."

"Nice lecture, Professor. What do you see outside this square?"

The rest of the chalkboard, he thought, was a dark board thick with plots and fears, where all of them stumbled unknowingly against each other. "Nothing," he said. "Let's go and eat."

Shani stopped him. "Wait, I want to read the rest of Robin's story. It's in that desk."

"But she said there was no more." From having overheard her comment to the blackbird, he knew that wasn't entirely true.

"I want to see."

"Why? It may be private to her."

"Because I saw the old man while I was out." She checked to be sure Robin was still asleep. "He's not like us. Hedoes know things."

"What did he tell you?"

"Nothing. You know I don't speak Spanish."

"Then how do you know what he knows? Did he perform a miracle for you?"

"No. But I could sense his uniqueness. He's like a holy man. I don't think his story is frivolous."

He decided it couldn't hurt. "Okay, let's give it a look."

They moved to the desk. Shani found the manila envelope in the second drawer on the right. She pulled out three notebook pages, covered with Robin's neat printing. Park leaned over her shoulder as she flipped to the last page and began to read softly:

"Suddenly, Eagle appeared, landing between them. Eagle was very powerful and could easily kill Snake.

But when he went to try, Snake tightened his grip on Dove and said, 'If you come closer, I will bite Dove. Kill Raven for me, and leave her body, and I will give you Dove.'"

"Eagle turned to Raven, and Raven grew frightened. She said, 'Dove and I are friends. She would not wish for you to kill me.'"

"But Snake said, 'If Raven was Dove's friend, why did she bring her here for me to eat?'"

"Raven said, 'That is not true.' But Raven feared Dove would feel that she had been betrayed, and would allow Eagle to kill her for Snake."

"Eagle thought for a moment, and said, 'I will let Dove decide if you are a friend, Raven, and whether I should buy her freedom with your death. But I have decided this: if Dove should die, both of you will die.'"

"Raven and Snake waited, both striving for a plan of escape, both afraid. But Dove did not speak, would not choose. Hurt as she was, Dove began to sing. And Eagle smiled…"

Park plucked the papers from her hand. "Is that all?"

"That's all she wrote down here."

"Huh. You think there's more that he told her that she didn't write down?"

Shani was deep in thought. "I don't know."

"Well, for a wise man, he sure doesn't know how to end a story. Let's get to dinner."

Shani slid the papers back in the envelope, closing it carefully. "Maybe this isn't the end."

"Do you think she has another page somewhere?"

Shani's head shot up. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

She twisted her head around. "Someone's banging on the window… There it is again!"

"For goodness' sakes, we're on the third floor. It's the rain."

Shani got up, hurried across the room, flung back the curtain. "Oh, no," she gasped.

"What's wrong?"

"It's not there." She was white as a sheet.

"Shh, you'll wake Robin." He stepped to her side. "What's not there?"

"I thought I would see a bird."

"A moment ago you thought it was a person. What's wrong with you?"

She put her hand to her forehead as though she were feeling faint. "I'm having this strangest sensation of deja vu." She shook herself. "Now it's gone. That's weird. What were you asking?"

"If you think Robin has another page somewhere?"

Shani glanced at Robin sleeping, and back out at the black night. She shook her head. "No, I think the story isn't over yet."

The dinner table could have been under water. They all ate in slow-motion silence, without enthusiasm for the food or each other. A draught was chilling Shani's legs. A window must have been still out. The downpour continued unabated. The two drapeless windows cornering the dining room were like portals staring out on to a deep ocean bottom.

"You must have really screwed up those invitations," Sol commented, sipping ginger ale.

Without comment, Lena stood and left the room, returning a minute later and throwing a vanilla card on Sol's half-eaten plate of food. "You will note today's date on the invitation," she said, "which was the printer's fault, by the way, not mine. It should have been yesterday's date. In either case, I don't know why they're not here. Unless" — she scanned the table — "someone made a few last minute calls."

"For whatever reasons they didn't come," Park said, "it's just as well. More may have died in the blast."

He yawned. "Boy, I'm sleepy."

"So am I," Angie muttered.

"Just looking at this food is making me sick," Sol said.

"Thanks," Lena said. "I screwed up the invitationsand dinner. Is there anything that I did right?"

"Give me a few minutes," Sol said. Looks couldn't kill, but Lena's could wound; they were very sharp.

Sol retracted his statement. "Naah, dinner was fine. I just feel like crap. First Bert gets wasted and now my guts are on fire. How about the rest of you?"

"I vomited an hour ago," Angie said. "I should go to bed."

"I feel like vomiting now," Park said.

"I'm running from both ends," Shani said, and by now she didn't care what the others thought. She felt oddly removed, floating.

"How… gross," Kerry stuttered. "At… the table… Really, Shani."

"You should talk," Lena snapped. "Who had the gamesroom bathroom smelling like an outhouse?"

"I never… never used it!" Kerry protested. Her voice sounded weak.

"A pig must have slipped in from the barn, then. One that looked just like—"

"Come on," Park interrupted. "We all feel lousy. Let's not make it any worse."

"Not me. I feel super," Lena said. But she had scarcely touched her food.

"So your CB isn't working?" Park said.

"That's what I said," Lena said.

"I'd like to look at it."

"If I tell you it isn't working, it isn't working. My dad tried it last summer and it wasn't even working then.

Satisfied?"

"Cool down," Sol said. "Preppy's a whiz at garbage like that. Maybe he can fix it."

Lena was cool. "After dinner you can have at it with a box of tools and the instruction manual for all I care." She paused, rubbing her eyes. "Hell, I feel so dizzy. What's wrong with me?"

"It's the flu," Park said, swaying slightly in his chair.

"Never had flu like this," Sol mumbled, his head nodding.

"How's Robin?" Kerry asked.

"Ask her yourself when she wakes up," Lena said slowly, staring at an empty milk glass in her frozen hand.

"We have to get her to eat," Shani said. Her hike must have taken more out of her than she had realised.

The room was receding, fogging at the edges, as if she were slipping down a translucent tunnel. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open.

"Juice is better for her if she's accumulating wastes in her blood," Park said, yawning like a hibernating bear.

Angie stood abruptly. "I'm going to bed." She was halfway to the hallway when she collapsed.

"Angie!" Lena called, stumbling out of her chair, kneeling by their fallen friend. "What's wrong?" She shook her, but Angie remained out cold. Lena turned to the rest of them for help. None was forthcoming.