In the Lone and Level Sands (3 page)

The sun was setting, which would give way to what
Max had always been excited for, and remained so despite his age:
the lights. There were seemingly millions of lights, all twinkling
and, when on certain rides, spinning around as though they made up
the edges of the world. They were small, about the size of
Christmas lights (Max thought they probably were Christmas lights)
and they certainly didn’t help anyone make their way around the
carnival grounds after dark, but they were beautiful. Besides that,
Max didn’t need illumination to help him get around; for that he
had a family of five constantly at his side.

“Well,” August said, “let’s get this over with.”

Her attitude really irked Max, at times. This was
not one of them, as he agreed with her, though he thought she
could’ve been nicer about it. But that was how August was; she
didn’t see being nice as her job. It bothered Max because his
siblings were the only people he was ever able to spend time with.
Who needs to have friends over? You have three siblings right
here, Maxy.

If it had ever actually come out that way, Max
couldn’t remember, but it wouldn’t surprise him. He didn’t feel any
great sense of blame or resentment toward his parents; they were
only doing what they thought was right. They had always played the
role of protectors, as if society was so dangerous any of the kids
could be picked off and eaten alive at any moment. Max’s
not-quite-friends all seemed okay without any similar family
setting, so he didn’t understand why his required it.

In any case, this night was not going to be the
night to change the family tradition. Max tried to focus on the
carnival. On the horizon, the sun was just a faint sliver of
orange, and soon would be entirely gone.

5

On a Lonely Road

Ben Hopper was driving down a long stretch of road
on a cool day. His wife, Charlotte, sat in the passenger seat, and
with lunch with the in-laws a good half hour behind them, Ben
finally felt safe enough to say something.

“Well, I feel like I’ve had my fill for a good
thirty years.”

“Ben, don’t be ridiculous. Respect earns respect.
You would enjoy being around them more if you’d put out the
effort.”

“I try, but God, I don’t know what it would take to
get on their good side. You know, it’s mostly your father. He hates
me.”

“He doesn’t hate you, but sometimes you just come
off a bit—”

“A bit what?” Ben said. “You know what? Never mind.
I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want to argue.” After a
moment of silence he reached over the console and took Charlotte’s
hand. “I’ll keep trying to get along with them. Something’s gotta
give sometime.”

“I love you,” Charlotte said. “Thanks.”

Ben’s phone jingled. His job as a freelance artist
entailed all types of things, and answering his phone twenty times
a day was, sadly, one of them.

“Do you really have to take that?” Charlotte
asked.

“It’s just a text, Char, it’s fine.”

“That’s even worse!”

“I’ll be quick. Jeremy gets mad when I don’t respond
right away.”

“Jeremy’s an asshole.”

“There
you
go. Does that sound familiar? If
you’d be nice, you’d get along.”

“Just text the man back!” Charlotte said. She shook
her head and her red locks danced around.

Before Ben could send a reply, Jeremy sent a
follow-up message. Ben glanced at the road ahead, then returned to
his phone and began a reply.

Look Jeremy. Im driving. Okay? And

“Ben! Look out!” Charlotte said. The car was edging
off of the road. Ben yanked the wheel in the other direction, then
noticed the turn just ahead. The car moved wildly across the road,
ripped into a ditch, and flipped in the air after it rifled up the
far side.

Ben and Charlotte shot forward, kept in place by
their seatbelts. As the car plummeted into the woods, Ben saw the
ground coming closer. His throat felt like it was closing up. Less
than ten seconds had passed since Charlotte’s scream, but to Ben it
all felt like a matter of minutes as his world continued spinning.
The Jeep barrel-rolled a few times before coming to a complete
stop, upside-down, in the woods.

****

Charlotte had no idea how much time passed before
she woke up. First she moaned, then she realized what had happened.
She unbuckled her seatbelt and braced for the following short drop.
When she sat up she checked for broken bones, but only had some
scrapes and cuts. Charlotte tried to get Ben unbuckled, but it was
tricky. She had to get on her knees and reach up and around his
arms. Broken glass littered the roof (now the floor) of the car,
and the small shards of what had once been windows sliced into her
skin as she worked to free Ben from his seat. When she finally got
him loose, she lowered him to a sitting position against the
wrinkled door. Ben had a large cut on his chest and a smaller one
on his head. Blood was running down his face. As far as she could
tell, he hadn’t broken any bones.

“Ben,” Charlotte said. She wasn’t sure she should
try to wake him, but she didn’t know what else to do. “Ben!”

Ben opened his eyes. He sniffed a few times, his
nose began to bleed, and then he noticed Charlotte.

“Wh-what’s going on here? Where am I?”

“Ben, I’m so glad you’re all right!” Charlotte
hugged him gently. He cringed and pushed her away.

“What is—who are you?”

Charlotte’s lower lip trembled. She sat back,
looking at him, eyes as big as dinner platters.

“Ben, you’ve got to be joking. It’s me, Charlotte!
Your wife! Married for—”

“Whoa, wait, we’re married?” Ben looked around. “How
did this happen?”

“What do you mean, ‘how did this happen?’ We got
married in a church—”

“I know how marriages happen, I’m talking about
this,” Ben said. He gestured to the twisted metal cage around them.
“How did
this
happen?”

“You were driving. And texting. We started to go off
the road, and you tried to put us back on it, but we went off the
other side. You… don’t remember any of this?”

“No. And I don’t remember you, or any marriage. But
I faintly remember having lunch with some very irritating
people.”

“Oh my God! Those were my parents! We saw them
today! Maybe that will spark your mind. Do you remember anything
else?”

“No, nothing else.” Ben sighed and looked at
Charlotte. It was as if he was trying so hard to remember, but his
mind was just too cloudy.

“I can’t believe this,” Charlotte said.

“I’m sorry…” Ben sat there trying to recover a name
to call her by, but it was no good.

“Charlotte!” she said, and then began to cry.

“Right.” Ben looked away. “Well, we should probably
try to get to a hospital. It’ll be dark soon, and I really don’t
want to have to walk in the dark. Maybe we’ll find a place to stay
until morning.” Ben started to climb out through the busted window,
and Charlotte followed. It was a painful process, but they made it
out. After a short and unsuccessful attempt to find either of their
cell phones, the two walked up the hill and then set out along the
shoulder of the road.

They walked in silence for almost an hour. Charlotte
thought about what they would do if Ben never remembered her or
their marriage, or any of the important things in their lives.
Would she leave him? Would
he
leave her? She hoped not.
Charlotte felt like she was dreaming, and she wanted to wake
up.

The two finally came across a sign, slightly faded,
but still legible. It read:

Blackwater Falls

One mile

“Wow, kind of a creepy name for a town. Don’t you
think, Charlotte?”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“Well, I’m sure they have a motel or something. In
the morning we can get the hell out of Dodge.”

“We need to make sure you don’t need stitches.”
Charlotte pointed to the blood soaking Ben’s shirt.

“I don’t,” he said. “It’s just a scratch.” He
smirked.

“You don’t need stitches, my left boob! You’re just
the same as before the accident!”

“I must have banged my head pretty damn hard to
forget a pretty face like yours,” Ben said. Charlotte smiled, then
looked at the ground.

Soon Ben and Charlotte arrived at the small town of
Blackwater Falls. The road they had been on crossed another, and
just as the light changed, a man in a worn pickup truck stopped to
let them cross. His expression was at first a happy and friendly
one, but quickly changed when he saw the injured couple.

“My word! What happened to you both?” The old man in
the pickup pulled his pipe away from his lips and held it tightly
in wrinkled fingers, blowing a cloud of smoke into the passenger
seat.

“We flipped our car,” Charlotte said.

“Well, come with me. I’ll take you to the doctor.
He’s great, you know. Will you let me help you?”

“Of course! We can’t thank you enough.” Charlotte
smiled, and she and Ben climbed into the seat next to the man as
soon as he opened the door for them. As he pulled the gearshift
down to drive, he took a puff of his pipe and blew another smoke
cloud, out the window this time. “I can’t tell you how grateful we
are, sir!” Charlotte said.

“It’s nothing, Mrs.…”

“Hopper. Oh, but you can call me Charlotte.”

“So, whose idea was the town’s name?” Ben asked.

“Ben!”

“Oh, it’s perfectly all right. I’ve lived here for
quite a few years now, it’s a pleasant little town, peculiar name
aside. Not much goes on here, and we don’t get too many visitors,
either.” He pulled into a parking space in front of a dark brown
building and shut off the pickup. “We’re here. Let’s go meet Dr.
Barnum. He’ll patch you up in a jiffy, Mr. Hopper!”

Dr. Barnum, who was every bit as nice as the man in
the pickup had been, was able to see them immediately. It took
about an hour for the doctor to give Ben some stitches for the gash
in his chest and treat his other cuts, check for internal bleeding,
and search for any other damage. Unfortunately, he had little
information to offer on the topic of amnesia. Dr. Barnum moved on
to Charlotte, and when all was said and done, both of them had
walked away from the accident with only minor physical wounds.

The two left the building and were surprised to find
the truck driver still outside, leaning on his truck. He
straightened when he saw them.

“Say, you both should stay at my house for the
night,” he said. “We have plenty of room, and it’s not far.” He
pointed up the dirt road. “Look, with the lights on you can see it
from here. I think the Mrs. is making her famous beef stew!
Mmm-mmm!” He rubbed his stomach. Charlotte waved her hand.

“Oh, we don’t want to impose! We can just stay at
the motel across the street.”

“It would be no imposition. I insist.”

Charlotte looked at Ben, who made no protest.

“Okay. Thank you very much!” Charlotte smiled.

The three got into the truck and drove down the
street.

“The name’s Frederick Samson, but you just call me
Fred.” The smile he flashed showed his tobacco-stained teeth. His
upper lip was occupied by a big gray caterpillar mustache that
curled upward when he smiled.

“I’m Ben.”

“Glad to meet you. I just wish I could do something
to help you guys out more.”

“Your hospitality is just fine. You don’t need to do
anything else. We’re glad you came along when you did.”

“It’s nothing, really!”

It wasn’t long before they pulled up the gravel
driveway before the farmhouse. To the left of it was a corn field,
and to the right was a big red barn, faded from the sun and
chipping from the rain. Fred parked to the right of a minivan and
killed the engine. When they got inside, Fred hung his keys on a
little plaster barn by the front door, then led the couple into the
sitting room. The air was thick with beef, broth, and a multitude
of vegetables. There was a candle by Mrs. Samson, who was rocking
in a squeaky chair and knitting a pair of socks. The old woman
looked up, set her project down, and wiped a strand of white hair
out of her face.

“I brought some visitors, Sara.” Fred took his hat
off and threw it onto the couch behind him.

“Why, hello there!” Sara said, but her face flushed
when she saw the bandages and bruises decorating the two. “Oh my
gosh! What happened to you?”

“We had an accident,” Charlotte said. “Your husband
was nice enough to help us out, and he’s invited us to stay the
night.” Charlotte suddenly wondered if Fred’s wife would be as
happy to have them as Fred was.

“Well, you both will
definitel
y be staying
here tonight. I’m Sara. I hope you’ve come with an appetite!” She
stood up, pointed at the big pot of stew in the kitchen, and
winked.

“Yeah, I’m starved!” Ben said.

“I’m Charlotte.”

“And I’m Ben.”

“Where are you from?” Sara asked.

“We actually only live about an hour away from here,
in Ashton,” Charlotte said.

Sara smiled. The sound of paws on mesh drew all eyes
toward the screen door in the kitchen. “It’s Angus’s dinnertime,
too. When we have beef stew, we usually mix some in with his
regular food. He adores it!”

“I can imagine,” Charlotte said.

“Come on! Let’s get eating!” Fred said.

Sara let Angus inside and led him to the pantry,
where his food dish resided. It looked more like a bowl for
Charlotte’s standing mixer at home, but Angus was an eighty-some
pound German Shepherd with a big appetite. Sara filled the bowl
with dry food, mixed in some steaming beef stew, and set it down.
Angus went to work on it right away. He was finished before Sara
could set bowls for everyone else, and as they sat down to eat,
Angus curled up on a large bed in the corner of the room.