Blood Fugue (6 page)

He made two that morning, entering a pleasant trance in which time ceased to exist. When they were finished he put them aside and sanded down the two he’d made the previous morning until the surfaces were as smooth as the skin of a child’s face.

Amy was due at eleven thirty and the morning had almost disappeared without him noticing. He’d bought ham and salami for her sandwiches but in his own he used mushroom pate and a piquant bean paste made from his own crop. He slid a bottle of white wine into a chilled sleeve and made a salad. Everything went in his backpack with a couple of candy bars and some water.

Before Amy arrived, he stood outside the back door and removed a binder from his pocket, testing the weight of it in his right hand. The wood was ruby dark. It felt like a good one. He twisted to the left, curling his index finger around the binder, and snapped his posture open, flicking his wrist at the last moment. The binder breathed a single sighing note as it flew, clear as a flute. It spun towards the compost heap and disappeared deep into the compacted organic material, its song cut short with a soft thump.

As he went to retrieve it, he heard Amy’s Honda pull up out front. Not wanting to meet her with dirt all over his fingers, he decided to dig the binder out later.

Knowing she wouldn’t want to walk far, Kerrigan let Amy drive them to The Clearing to begin their walk. The place he had in mind for the picnic was secluded but if she didn’t have the energy to get there, the privacy it offered would be worthless.

Amy drew the Honda up to one of the squat wooden posts forming the circular boundary of the car park and picnic area. She’d barely pulled on the park brake before Kerrigan was out of the car and sniffing at the air. Amy spent a moment inspecting her make up in the rear-view mirror before joining him.

Noticing he’d left the passenger door open, Kerrigan gave it a push. It slammed, rocking the Honda on its suspension.

‘Shit, Jimmy, be careful.’

‘Oops. Sorry.’

‘You don’t know your own strength, sometimes.’

‘I’m excited,’ he said. ‘Come on, lets’ go.’

He pulled his pack on and adjusted the straps.

‘This way.’

He set off at a gentle pace towards the Eastern Path.

As he walked past the Jimenez’s Land Cruiser, parked a few yards from the path, he glanced into the covered bed of the truck and saw they’d laid a canvass tarp over whatever they’d left behind. Each of them must have been carrying a heavy pack. He’d expected them to turn around when they found out how rough the trails were; that they’d be back before the weekend, contrite, but having enjoyed a challenge nonetheless. They’d already been gone four days.

‘Hey, slow down. You said this was a stroll.’

‘It is a stroll, Amy.’ He waited for her to catch up and took her hand. ‘I’m sorry. I love it out here. I get —revved up.’ He grinned at her. ‘You set the pace and I will guide you.’

The urge to pull away and forge ahead was difficult to resist. Kerrigan wondered how the Jimenez’s would be coping. By now they’d be footsore, hankering after a decent meal and a soft bed. His thoughts turned to Carla, in her sleeping bag in the depths of the forest at midnight. He walked faster but Amy’s hand held reined him in.

‘Why did you come back?’

For a moment, Kerrigan thought she meant to Olsen’s to ask her for a date. Then he understood.

‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,’ she said.

‘It’s not that, Amy. I want to give you a real answer but it’s hard to pin down.’

‘Take your time. We’ve got all day, right? I want to know more about the mysterious Jimmy Kerrigan.’

His laugh was hollow.

‘The city didn’t need me,’ he said and regretted his choice of words immediately.

‘What’s that supposed to mean? Is Superman turning his back on the citizens of Metropolis? Come on.’

The sneer in her voice cut him. He tried to let it go.

‘What I mean is, I didn’t feel I was adding anything. The things I did there, I could have done them anywhere and, in the end, the city’s a far worse place to be than here. It’s dirty, it’s loud, and it’s dangerous. Actually, from my point of view, it sucks.’

‘That wasn’t how you thought it would be?’

‘No, of course not. I thought it would be fast and exciting. I thought it would be different every day. But every day was the same.’

‘Were you lonely there?’

No need to pause for that question.

‘Sure, I was lonely. But most people are lonely if they’re honest about it.’

‘You didn’t have a girlfriend?’

‘Oh, I had girlfriends. Several. But that just made it worse somehow.’

He saw Amy’s expression tighten.

‘And no one was honest,’ he continued before she could get angry, ‘Everyone played games with your head. Never said what was really on their mind until after they’d taken what they wanted and dumped you. I got used to that real quick.’

For a while she was quiet. Walking at her pathetic pace took all his willpower.

‘How come you never left Hobson’s Valley?’ he asked, more to slow himself down than anything else. ‘Must have been plenty of places you could have gone to. You got family anywhere else?’

‘No. Just my brother, Mark — he’s real sick right now — and our mom and dad. My grandparents lived right here in the valley but they’ve been gone a long time. Mom and dad are only children so no aunts or uncles either.’

‘I didn’t know that. What’s wrong with Mark? I thought he was working up in the motel at Segar’s Cabin.’

‘He was but they laid him off. And it wasn’t because the season’s nearly over, either.’

‘So what was it?’

‘He had some kind of . . . episode.’

‘Oh yeah? What kind?’

For a while there was only the sound of their footsteps scuffing over the dirt of the trail. Amy’s dumb ‘flat shoes, for walking’ and his Meindl hiking boots.

‘They’ve got him over at the Pine’s unit in Saracen.’

‘He was sectioned?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What did he do?’

‘He, uh, attacked one of the housekeepers at the motel. Tried to bite her neck open.’

‘Jesus. Was she hurt?’

‘Just shaken, I think. She had a broom handle across his throat. She said all she could hear was the click of his teeth as he strained towards her. He kept screaming, ‘I’m one of them,’ over and over. He was still yelling it when the police took him away.’

Amy stopped walking and turned towards Kerrigan. She couldn’t hold his gaze. Looking down she said:

‘I signed the papers.’

‘What papers?’

‘The ones that allowed them to lock him up for his own safety and the safety of others. I betrayed him.’

‘No you didn’t,’ he said, giving her as much sympathy as he could force from himself. ‘You did what anyone would have done in the same situation. I would have done it too.’

He put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes to make the statement stick. To make it real. At the same time, he tried to push the vision of Mark’s assault away, the sound of her brother’s jaws snapping,

‘You would?’

‘There’d be no other choice.’

She managed a smile.

‘Thanks.’

He pulled her close, loving the feel of her plumpness against him and hating himself for it. About a mile further Amy’s breathing became louder and more laboured. Her pace slowed.

‘Almost there now.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, really. I don’t want to say too much about it, but it’s a nice secluded spot. I don’t think anyone knows the place, so we can enjoy our picnic in peace.’

They’d been walking along a corridor of pine trees. Sometimes the trees were close on either side, other times it was a wide avenue with plenty of light entering from overhead. The forest itself was dense, though. It wasn’t possible to see more than a few yards into trees. To their left, it looked impenetrable.

‘In here,’ he said.

‘In where?’

‘You can’t see it, but there’s a way through. After about a hundred yards it opens up again. Trust me, you’re going to like this.’

Bending down to avoid getting branches in his eyes and face, he took Amy’s hand and drew her into the forest.

‘Make sure you keep your head down.’

Twigs of pine and fingers of fern caught at them as they walked, bent double. Every few steps Kerrigan glanced up to check his bearings.

‘How much farther?’ she asked.

‘Not far now.’

He squeezed her hand.

Up ahead light broke through the canopy splashing into bright mottled patches on the ground. A flash of green. They were heading in the right direction.

After a few more yards they were able to stand a little straighter, though the trees still pressed in close against them. Amy was panting hard. The walk from the cabin to this spot was a warm up for him; on any other day, this was a place where he might stop for a moment to drink a sip of water and taste the air before continuing.

The world was silent but for the crunch of dry twigs beneath their feet. Suddenly they broke out of the forest and into a tiny clearing. Amy took a sudden breath in surprise.

‘Oh my God. It’s beautiful.’

Chapter 6

The clearing was carpeted with grass that belonged in some rich pasture far out on a well-irrigated plain. Near the centre of the clearing was an array of rounded boulders, all of them covered in a delicate fur of moss. At their heart was a small pool of dark but perfectly clear water. It was a place of purity and hallow. Kerrigan had missed its peace and welcoming stillness and the moment he connected with it, he regretted bringing Amy.

Silently, he greeted the stones and the trees and the grasses of that place, asked permission to play among them for a while and when he sensed their concurrence, indeed their welcome, he laid down his pack and placed his palm against the cool earth through the soft grass.

‘What do you think?’ he asked.

‘I’ve never seen anything like this,’ said Amy. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s a spring. Thousands of years old. Men and animals have been coming here to drink or bathe since long before the birth of Christ. The minerals in the water make the grass grow like this. You won’t see grass this healthy anywhere else in this state.’

While Amy looked around, he spread the rug out over the grass and placed the Tupperware boxes and wine nearby.

‘How deep is this?’

She was standing looking down into the spring. There was a hint of trepidation in her voice.

‘It goes all the way to the bottom, I think.’

‘Seriously, Jimmy, how deep?’

‘I don’t know, but it’s a long way down. We can go in later if you want.’

‘Swim? In there?’

‘Sure. Why not?’

‘Is it safe?’

‘I’ll go first and you can decide for yourself how safe it is. Come and have some wine.’

The eating and drinking part of the afternoon was over quickly. Kerrigan didn’t mind. Amy enjoyed the wine and the sandwiches he’d made her. She ate her Snickers bar in less than a minute, even though he’d intended the candy as an emergency supply.

When they’d finished, they lay back saying little while their food settled. He was beginning to fall asleep when he felt Amy’s hand on his chest. He opened his eyes and she was leaning over him, her hair falling around her face, her cleavage pressing though the open neck of her blouse.

She smiled in that way that meant the moment had come; it was a familiar smile to Kerrigan, born of simple needs; no words necessary. He smiled back and she leaned in to kiss him. The swelling curves of her breasts were warm and heavy against him and it was that feeling of weight and fullness more than her kiss that made him hard. He was a bad kisser and always had been; he reached his hand behind her head and pressed her face to his until their teeth clashed and their tongues stretched into each other’s mouths. Clearly Amy liked bad kissers. She pressed her body closer to him, her sighs the loudest sounds in the forest.

Then she pulled back.

‘How safe is it here?’ she asked.

‘What do you mean?’

‘How private?’

‘I’d say it was as private as my bedroom. Or yours. That’s why I picked it ‘

‘Mm hmm. In that case, why don’t you show me how safe that pool is? Maybe I’ll join you.’

Kerrigan stood and stripped quickly. He wasn’t ashamed of his body and he knew his physique had an effect on Amy. His erection sprang free as he pulled his shorts down.

‘At least you’re well armed,’ she observed.

‘This is no weapon.’

‘Sure it is. It’s your love-club.’

‘Jesus, Amy. Sometimes you say the weirdest things.’

She slapped his bare, sun-deprived butt.

‘Go get in that water. Take your torpedo with you.’

He walked across the cushion of grass, feeling it give beneath his soles and felt the power of the earth below him — either that or the power of the wine. The pool was still except for a disturbance near its centre where a small upward current made gentle domes and ripples on the surface. No more than fifteen feet across, the pool formed a ragged circle. Around its edges the rocks were heaped up as if a cairn-making giant had rolled them there to mark the spot. Kerrigan climbed to a perch on one of the larger stones. The moss was damp emerald velvet beneath his feet.