A Regrettable Thing

The manhunt for Bronson drags on and on - that is, until Kayleen and Tanya make another horrifying discovery.  Back in 1859, Emily is forced to reckon with the stark reality of a mountain crossing. Meanwhile, the Bear Lake Monster is enjoying his newfound lust for life - never mind what it costs him.

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Transcript

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KAYLEEN


I decide I can’t be alone with Tanya again.
Inside me, coiled up, is something like the monster that tore a quarterback to pieces.
It wants.
And I cannot want.

The next day the park is jammed. We’re so busy that I don’t take a lunch break until I’m, like, passing out. 
Dad says it’s because we added a soft-serve stand, but I know better.
People want to come see the place where Bronson Reed disappeared.
I feel like a firefly in a jar, trapped with all my stupid secrets.

I watch Tanya clock in at the Hub, half-hidden behind Revenge of the Deep.
She doesn’t look for me.
Good.

We plunge out into the darkness again with our flashlights and our varsity jackets.
Jessica leans on Hyrum for emotional support.
As if there’s anything she’s ever lacked in her life.
As if she knows what it’s like to cry so hard you might throw up your heart.
Tanya isn’t there.

We’ve started doubling back over our old routes, and even Bronson’s dad seems to be losing hope.
I watch him, hollow-eyed with a bulldog face.
Kayleen, are you there? Jessica doubles back.
Don’t get too far away. There could be a psycho killer out here!
Don’t be dumb, says Hyrum. You’re more likely to be struck by lightning than killed by an axe-murderer.

After my Mom disappeared, I couldn’t let my Dad out of my sight. I couldn’t even go to school, I was so worried that I’d come home and he’d be gone.
The school guidance counselor used to say: Lightning doesn’t strike twice, Kayleen.
And the thing is:
She’s wrong.
That saying is unscientific
a cozy lying little aphorism designed to avoid emotional engagement.
Used colloquially, it’s come to mean that
Just because a bad thing is happening now, doesn’t mean it’ll happen again.

More simply put:
Don’t worry, everyone only has to eat ONE shit pie in life.
But it’s not true.
Some people have lives that are only full of shit pies
big shitty dogpiles of nothing that they wade through and then die.
I’m not trying to be a bummer.
That’s what the world is.
Lightning can literally hit the same bluff over and over again because lightning, like catastrophe, doesn’t care if you’re a good person or if you’re a piece of shit.
Lightning doesn’t discriminate.
I hope, in the worst part of me, that people like Hyrum and Jessica learn that too.


EMILY


And so we all went into the mountains.

I looked over at Marian as we passed over the ridge and lost sight of the Winter Quarters, but she had grown hard again.

Her eyes fixed on the horizon.

She said only one thing to me, as we camped that night among the the rock piles of the Wyoming border:

Did he tell you to stay behind?

I had not spoken to Sam since the barn but I could sense him a little ways off, helping the Fieldings unload their tent.

I nodded.

There was real sadness in her face as Marian said:
You foolish child.

That night she shivered and shook so hard that I thought she might bring the tent down with her.
I wrapped myself around her, propriety forgotten, willing my heat into her.

The next day dawned unseasonably warm, and I hoped, foolish child I was, that we were saved.

Elder Rich even thanked Heavenly Father in our morning address, saying our prayers had been answered.

But I had learned to read Sam’s looks and his face was twisted with worry.

On the fourth day, the frost returned. The outside of our tent was ripe with it.

Smells like snow, Marian intoned ominously.

She was right, the first flakes falling as we neared Fort Laramie.

Frozen gravesites lined the road, casualties, Elder Rich told us, of violent clashes between the settlers and the Natives.

There are those, he said gently, who will always resist God’s will.

One of the graves was too shallow, and the freezing wind had blown away the dirt to reveal three Native men, bent and broken to fit into one small groove.

It’s not for us to question things, said Marian.

I felt very aware, as we passed on, how many Native graves there were for each of the settlers’. I felt very aware, too, that the landscape itself seemed hell-bent on rejecting us.

I told Sam later that one of the dead men had looked like my Father, when his skin became nut-brown in summer. His mouth twisted, but he said only:
It is a regrettable thing.

Marian stumbled often now, but insisted that she could pull the rest of the way to Laramie. We’d been promised more food and, best of all, an addition of blankets and furs.

But when we arrived at Laramie, the entire fort was barricaded. We waited outside as Sam and Elder Rich rode into camp, returning with drawn faces and unthinkable news:

The fort was fully occupied with soldiers fighting against the Natives. They could not spare supplies.

They’d offered us just ten more bags of flour and twenty woven blankets.

I watched the light leave Marian’s face. Her eyes drifted over towards little Thomas Fielding, now making a snow angel above the heap of a nearby grave.

I knew what she was thinking:

The blankets would be for the children.
The food would be rationed.
She was an old, unmarried woman.

We were not all going to make it to Utah.


KAYLEEN


Ironically it’s Hyrum who actually figures things out.
We’re sitting at a picnic table at the park.
I’m on the clock, technically, but Jessica waved me over and so now I’m sitting with all these blonde aliens eating soft-serve in my coveralls.

Tanya’s still at the corndog stand.
She’s sweating in the heat, her skin damp and inviting.

What if they don’t ever find him? says Jessica, big blue eyes batting up at Hyrum.
They will, Hyrum says. I trust in our Heavenly Father.
Jessica smiles at this and squeezes my arm.
Besides, says Hyrum, it’s not like he was eaten by the Bear Lake Monster.
He gestures to the weathered sign over our boathouse that reads MONSTER TOURS!

That’s not funny, Hyrum, says Jessica.
I burst out laughing.
It’s hysterical, desperate laughter, and it’s burbling out of me like kettle corn.
I couldn’t stop it if I tried.
Hyrum’s like What the heck and Jessica recoils from me but I can’t stop.
Nothing in my life has ever been funnier.

Tanya’s grabbing me by the back of my coveralls and dragging me back into the boathouse.
I don’t even know where she came from just that we’re through the rusty doors before I can catch my breath.
It’s dark inside, damp.
The walls are covered in busted canoes. 

What is wrong with you? Tanya says, shoving me into a bench.
Hyrum made a joke. The shape of the laughter is changing now, into something raw and scary, but I still can’t stop. He said, at least Bronson wasn’t eaten by the Bear Lake Monster.
Tanya’s eyes are hard.
Oh good, she says. Glad to know that you’re making such kick-ass friends.
And still giggling, I tell her: I hate everyone who isn’t you.

My brain is fizzing even though my body knows it’s wrong, all wrong.
There’s a crease between Tanya’s brows and without even stopping to breathe I tug her closer by the front of the shirt and I kiss her as hard as I can.
Too hard -
I feel her teeth bump against mine under the softness of her lips, and I pull back, already reaching up to rub my mouth clean, but she yanks me back in and her lips part slightly and then -
I am kissing Tanya.
I used to think I’d never kiss anyone.
But here I am letting my hand move around the back of her neck, here I am pressed against a bench with her hips curved against mine, and fuck fuck fuck I feel alive for the first time in my whole life -
The door creaks open and we break apart, my mouth covered in baby-pink lip gloss.
It’s too late.
Hyrum Bates is standing in the doorway, his mouth hanging open.


EMILY


The next night Marian grew so hot in my arms that I woke covered in sweat.

She was burning.

I ran from the tent, finding Sam hunched around a fire with Elder Rich, the latter insisting still that snow is rare for September, this will pass.

It’s Marian, Sam, I said. Sister Malone. She has a fever.

It was only when Sam followed me into the tent that I smelled it, a putrid sweaty stench that I knew all too well.

I had smelled it on the farm. 

Sam leaned over Marian, feeling her pulse.

How bad is she? I whispered.

But I could read the answer in his face.

Sam told me to heat some water while he fetched supplies.

I tried to light a fire.
My fingers shook and shook.

I had just managed to get the water boiling when Sam returned with ginger root and a sachet of herbs.

What will that do? I asked him, ashamed of the fear in my voice.

It may reduce inflammation, he said. His eyes searched for mine, and I remembered how he sat with me on the boat, his hand on the small of my back.

When the mixture had cooled, we carried it back into the tent. I watched as Sam woke Marian enough to help her sip it down.

He told me to gather snow, and I did, and he laid it on her forehead, where it melted.

I brought another handful, and another, as Sam fed Marian laudanum from a small bottle.

It will help the pain, he told her.

I went to boil another pot of water, but it was Marian who stopped me.

She was looking at Sam, and something in her was utterly calm. She took Sam’s hands.
I would like to pray,  she said.

Sam nodded, and I crawled behind her to hold her head.

Sam began:
Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for all the blessings you have bestowed upon us so far in this journey.

Marian closed her eyes.

We pray for Sister Malone, that you may strengthen her in this time of need. We pray also that, should tonight be this Saint’s time to pass into your glory, that her passing be swift and painless.

I understood: Marian was dying.

She has been an earthly blessing to us. Should her time on Earth be done, we pray you bless her in kind. We pray, also, that she be reunited with her husband in your Kingdom, though they were not sealed at his time of passing. We ask you grant us mercy in this.

I remember that this made Marian smile. I remember her grip loosening, the weight of her head in my hands.

We say these things in the name of your Son, Jesus Christ, amen.

Marian and I said together, Amen.

And she was drifting, lulled by the laudanum. I laid her head down as gently as I could.

Sam looked back at me, his face drawn.

I will come back to you in the morning, he said. Find me if she wakes again.

I nodded, unable to speak.

He said: I did not want this for you.

For a long time I lay awake next to Marian, watching the rise and fall of her chest.

By the morning, she was gone.


KAYLEEN


Tanya’s backing away, telling him oh my god, Kayleen was doing this dumbass thing, I’ll explain the whole thing later, everything that comes out of her mouth smooth like I’ve never heard it before.
I try to think what dumbass thing would excuse her lip gloss on my mouth.
I hide in the boathouse until everything outside is quiet.

My body actually aches for her.

Whatever this is, I know it isn’t cool with the Latter-Day Saints.
I know it the way you know the sky is blue or water is wet.

I go to the manhunt again that night.
It’s like it would be weirder not to, is what I tell myself, but I know it’s because Tanya might be there.
My veins are electric eels.

She’s there when I arrive, chatting away with Hyrum. He’s licking his lips and I hate him so much.
Jessica’s there too, looking annoyed, but she pulls me in with a hug and says it’s okay about earlier. Hyrum told me you were upset.
And, softly, she adds - this must be so hard for you. With your Mom.
I take some trail mix out of my pocket and shove it into my mouth.
Absolute zero. Everything’s cool.
Hyrum’s hand casually slips around Tanya’s shoulders.
Four hours ago I was kissing her.
Everything’s cool.
The party dwindles. There are less of us every night.
Somehow, it’s just the Dads and the four of us. And by “somehow” I mean Hyrum is clearly trying to get Tanya alone, and Jessica and I are maniacally devoted to ensuring that never happens.
I know she like, works at your park, but do you like her? sniffs Jessica. I make a face and Jessica takes that as a no.
Everything’s cool.
It’s warm enough, even now, that Tanya’s in a tank top, the moonlight glinting off her back, her neck. I unzip the bottom of my cargo shorts and let the breeze play against my shins.
We’re right by the lake when Jessica stumbles over something in the sand.
I shine my flashlight on it, and for a second I think it’s just a log.
But logs don’t have fingernails, or broken bones.
Logs don’t usually have shredded muscles either, or wear the remains of a purple varsity jacket.
Jessica screams and Hyrum and Tanya turn around and then we all just - freeze.
Because there, sticking out of the sand, is Bronson Reed’s broken arm.
Oh my heck, oh heck, oh heck, mutters Hyrum, backing away. No flippin’ way.

Jessica starts praying, low and quiet.
Dear Heavenly Father, I am thankful for my family friends and many blessings, please protect us in the name of Jesus Christ -
Tanya reaches down and, quick as lightning, pulls the arm up from the sand.
It’s torn off at the shoulder, and I’m reminded of a chicken thigh being split in half.
Jessica passes out.
Put that down, says Hyrum, and Tanya drops the arm back into  the sand.
He turns to me.
You know something.
I’ve been waiting all day for this. 
The hatred I’ve been choking down surfaces: hard, red and sickening.

No way, I say. Obviously, this was a bear, or something -
No, he says. That’s why you were laughing earlier, isn’t it? Because I guessed right.

C’mon, says Tanya. You’re saying Kayleen knows what did this?
I’m saying, said Hyrum, that it wasn’t any bear.
I say: Fuck off.
Hyrum blanches. And then he says, very quietly:
I get it, okay? I like her too.

I open my mouth -
And a tentacle whips out of the water.
I hear Hyrum’s bones crunch, the woosh of blood and air as his organs are crushed instantly.
Tanya yanks me backwards into the sand.
Hyrum is pulled into the water, too quietly, his body dangling like a chew toy.


THE MONSTER


It was a drug, and I needed more.
Sure, I had my trinkets and my leaflets and my pamphlets and my booklets and my Bibles and my Playboys and my cracked TVs and my busted Walkmen but I needed more.

A young woman with close-cropped hair and a motorcycle. A middle-aged carp fisherman in dungarees. A vacationing toddler who swam out too far.

I took them in, their failures and foibles and fantasies. I tasted first kisses, last kisses, a mother’s hand on my downy head.

More. I needed more.

A hotshot lawyer on a jetski. A preteen in a Star Wars costume. An elderly bird-watcher. 
Not enough to cause a panic. But accidents happen all the time near a glacial lake.
No, I was not human. Nor was I Ancient Monster.
I was something new, something virile and obscure and terrifying.

All I had wanted was someone’s hand on my stomach, soft and warm, saying it’s okay I’ve got you now. Someone whose grand purpose    was to love me and only me, saying nothing’s gonna hurt you.

If I could not be loved, I would be the thing that comes in the night.

I knew what it meant to bite a baby’s body clean in half. I had taken my star-person in my hands and crushed the life from her.

It wasn’t life, and it was nothing like love.

But it wasn’t nothing either.
It wasn’t nothing.


EMILY


We buried Marian under a tree.
The dirt was still warm beneath the frosted ground.

Sam dug the grave with a steady hand.
I wondered how many he’d dug before.

None of it felt real.
I kept thinking she was back with the Fieldings, or getting water, or anywhere else along the mile of trail we now occupied.

When Mr. Fielding came to help me put up my tent, even then, I looked for her.
The snow kept falling, all the way through the night.
I did not sleep.
I thought about going to wake Sam
I hoped the snow would not disturb her grave.

The next morning I struggled  alone with the frozen tent, my nails growing raw and red. Sam ducked under my arm and helped me take the thing down, his hands quick and practiced, his mouth a thin flat line.

He said: You cannot do this yourself.

And then he was there the rest of the day, doggedly pulling my cart.

I knew he understood, and that I wouldn’t have to talk until I was ready.

And I, who had never understood myself, could only watch him.


KAYLEEN


It’s all over in less than thirty seconds.
Tanya and Jessica and I are all sprawled out on the sand.         
Bronson’s arm a few feet away.

Tanya hugs her knees to her chest.
I can taste my own spit, I can feel every hair standing up on my arms.

Jessica makes a sound and Tanya stands, quickly and unsteadily.

We should wake her up, I tell Tanya. Say Hyrum went on ahead after we found the arm.

Her eyes meet mine.
Absolute zero, she says.

I want to apologize to her: for leaving her by the lake, for kissing her.
Also I want to kiss her again.

I’m trying, I say.


THE MONSTER


I became Aware of The Sprog. Kayleen.
She wasn’t pretty, not like her Mother.
She wasn’t anything, really. I’m a bit of a connoisseur of the human spirit, and this one was putrefying.
Her soul stank like corroded metal.
Yet I was Aware of her.
 
My Awareness started as an extension of my pain.
She was the only thing, the only living thing in the world that felt like Julia.
She resembled her side-a-long, in the way kelp resembles hair or saran wrap looks like skin.
She was Julia on a shelf with a 99 cent sticker, but still: she was Julia-ish.
The Sprog was always alone, and wore her hair like a dank curtain in front of her face.
What was in that odd face to make Julia gaze at it with such adoration?
She walked home by the lake most days, and out of quaint boredom I began paddling next to her in the depths, watching her slouch her way back home.

I thought, idly, about eating her.
She’d taste like a car battery.

She was lonely, the Sprog, deeply lonely. She carried secrets inside her like dusty gemstones, precious and unacknowledged.
Time shrank and un-shrank. She was sixteen before my eyes, her limbs stretching string-like towards the sky.
Rather than shrinking with time, her loneliness compounded, became denser, colder, folding in on itself like a black hole. Her secrets pulsated and orbited the density: an entire solar system of endless grief.
I wondered, smelling Kayleen, whether I’d doomed us both.


KAYLEEN


Once Jessica can stand we stumble back towards the main rendezvous, Tanya the whole time carrying the Arm and operating in that smooth register -
I’m sure he’s fine, he’s probably back at the rendezvous, don’t worry, don’t worry -
When we get back to the camp, some of the Dads are there, and one of them is Hyrum’s Dad. 
He really looks like a cop, I notice now, with his thick neck and crew cut. 
Jessica runs over to him and manages to explain, between sobs, about the Arm and Hyrum wanting to go ahead, because he was so brave, and how she passed out and now he’s gone -
Hyrum’s dad’s eyes narrow.
My dad is there too, and as he listens I can see some subliminal instinct kicking in that tells him this is The Worst News.

Pain smelling pain.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    
Hyrum’s dad and a few of the others go back into the night, and I can hear them yelling Hyrum! And then: Son!
For a while, everyone just stands around, Tanya still clutching this like pale gross arm. 
We should stay a while, my Dad says. In case he tries to come back here. 
Tanya’s hand slips into mine.
So does Jessica’s. 
We wait, and we wait, until Hyrum’s dad comes back, his flashlight hand shaking.
Jessica whispers: can you drive me home. 
And then: 
I came here with Hyrum and his Dad.  
I understand. I wouldn’t want to get in that car either. 
What should I do with the arm? Tanya says.
My Dad shrugs helplessly and Tanya leaves it on the ground. Someone else’s problem.  
We  pile in with my Dad and ride in silence to the gated community up the hill, where Jessica’s house looms like a white mausoleum. 
She squeezes my shoulder before we drop her off and says thanks and then your Dad is super nice. 
Tanya comes back home with us. 
It’s not even a discussion. 
At first, she curls up on the floor on a pile of pillows. 
It’s so weird, her just there below a poster of the Starship Enterprise. 
Hey, she says. 
And I say: hey. 
She climbs up next to me in bed.
We fall asleep touching feet.