Lindsey kept them moving. Analomink was a place Terah was certain he’d never heard of. Lindsey knew where to find provisions, however. Enough to get them through the night.
“Will Wednesday attack?” Terah asked.
“How the hell should I know?” Lindsey finished off the scraps and had Terah heave the trash bag over his shoulder like a pauper Saint Nick. He was still impressed that Lindsey knew which places put their baked goods out for garbage collection if they didn’t sell during the day. Like any unspoiled lake Analomink had attracted developers, but out past the Rod and Gun Club no roads gave access. It was still cold, but at least the snow was gone.
“There used to be fishin’ shanties out here,” she said. “Places for guys to stick their rods and shit.”
Darkness had fallen and they had to make their way carefully. Terah had left his flashlight at Dickinsheet, supposing they’d return. A half-moon gave half-light. The wind had driven the clouds away, but full radiational cooling wasn’t exactly welcome. Paths led down to the water’s edge, showing they weren’t that isolated. “Looks like one up there.” Lindsey turned to face him. “Fishers are early risers. If we shelter here we run a risk of bein’ caught early. Still, it’s a weekday in March—”
“How do you know it’s a weekday?”
“I keep count. Don’t you? Knowin’ what day it is tells ya where people might be. Where supplies might be. I’m surprised a guy smart as you din’t figure that out.”
“Okay, so it’s a weekday. You were saying?”
“Fishers like to go out at first light. We don’t have an alarm.”
“Or a key,” Terah said, trying the door.
By the moonlight Lindsey pulled out a plastic-coated card and chivvied the door opened. There was barely room for the two of them to stand up, let alone sleep. “Should keep Wednesday from tryin’ anything. Best try to catch a few winks and head out before light, just in case.”
It was uncomfortable sitting up amid the rods and reels and hip boots. That, along with the possibility that they might be surprised at first light made sleep impossible. Or so Terah thought. He’d found himself thinking of Wendy quite a lot lately. The image he conjured of her was imperfect, but he knew that she’d started him on a path that led him here.
He never did see her again after she waved goodbye, going into her parents’ house in Pittsburgh. Thinking about it still made his heart thump in a way that felt dangerous and pleasant. At that one moment, he thought he’d finally caught what he’d wanted. Growing up poor, there was so little to expect in life. He’d managed to finish college and been accepted into seminary. There was a girl willing to move across state lines with no job lined up just to be with him. He knew lingering in the suburban darkness would attract police. His car was a junker and he’d told the Baker family to expect him. He couldn’t afford a hotel. Every house is a hotel. None of us are permanent residents. Why did women refuse to say what was really on their minds?
That Friday. That phone call. Here he was in a fishing shanty with a young woman. Both of them homeless. Touching on the edges like marbles in a jar—like atoms—but never getting bonded into any kind of molecule.
Each noise in the woods startled him. Squirrels were active at night, but some of the movements he sensed outside the thin boards were larger. There had to be bears out here. And they had a bag of good-smelling food with them. Lindsey had latched the door behind them. He was pretty sure.
Terah realized just how long a night could be. This wasn’t like pulling an all-nighter because of an exam the next day. Nature had shown extra graciousness with sleep. Other mammals, he reflected, slept much of the time. How many days in the classroom had he stifled a yawn in the middle of his own lectures? Biology was telling him he required more sleep than human lifestyles permitted. At least as a professor he could shut the office door and take a quick snooze. Then came the long, brutal days of commuting to New York just to be in the office from nine-to-five. He’d negotiated an eight-to-four schedule, but that meant catching a bus around five in the morning. Getting coffee through his system in time required awakening at three. New Jersey Transit buses had no restrooms. And ninety minutes could be eternity with a full bladder.
Thinking of urination in the middle of the night wasn’t a good idea. The two of them were crammed close together and thinking of that wasn’t a good idea either. He was really fixated on Lindsey. She’d orchestrated his coming with her, knowing she wouldn’t be going back. What did that mean? Did she really feel something for him?
That thought of peeing was a bad idea. Without sleep to slow his system down, he really had to go. Age did that to you. He listened closely and the sounds of any larger animals seemed to have gone. Probably deer anyway. They were so plentiful that they came into back yards and even the occasional store as if they owned the place. He had to extract himself from the fishing rods, and away from Lindsey, but without waking her. Each move was in slow motion, but the urgency was pressing now. The wonder of having a bathroom in a house or apartment! Being able to go down the hall and not out into a cold night to pee! A simple luxury. Suddenly he understood the smells of New York City early in the morning. All those guys out there washing the sidewalks before the customers came.
Finally standing, disentangled from his emergency blanket, he listened for animal sounds. Not sure of the time, it was the dead of night. He turned the knob slowly and hoped the door wouldn’t creak. He pulled it softly shut and out of long habit, chose a tree large enough to conceal his activity, even with no-one there to see. Living at Dickinsheet, he didn’t have to worry about noise but once again on the run, golden was silence. There. Lindsey couldn’t complain about his doing this offensive thing in front of her.
Then he heard the large animal sounds again. Whatever it was, it was right behind him.
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