Wilderness

CHAPTER 21.

"I was in town," Hood said, "while you were out firing, and I picked up some more supplies."

"We weren't actually firing, Chris, we were just snapping the hammer." "You know what I mean," Hood said. "Now here's how I've set things up.

The guns are all loaded, so be careful. There's a long gun and a handgun for each of us. Janet gets the carbine and the.32, they're the lightest weapons. I'll take the Springfield and the.45; Aaron, you get the Winchester and the P-%8. I've also organized three knapsacks. In each one there's a dozen granola bars, matches in waterproof wrap, extra ammo for both guns, but only for your own so you have to keep the sacks straight. I've put our names on them."

Newman looked at the green nylon knapsack. Across the back, between the padded straps, it said Aaron in black ink.

"I used indelible ink so it wouldn't run if we sweat. There's also a roll of nylon cord, a roll of toilet paper, a small first-aid kit, a flashlight, and a down vest. The vest is rolled up inside the nylon pullover parka. In the late summer it gets cold up here at night, and maybe you'll need it. You should put in some dry socks and clean underwear, or whatever you might want. But this is for emergencies, so you don't want to travel heavy. Anything I forgot?"

"If it's an emergency," Newman said, "you better put in more toilet paper. I may shit myself."

Hood shook his head. "Don't kid around about this, Aaron. You've got to be ready, and you've got to cover everything. You should always be wearing clothes you'd be willing to live in in the woods. Jeans, boots, good shirt. If your feet get wet, change at once, get into dry socks, never get caught. You can't tell when we'll have to move sudden."

"How about insect repellent," Newman said.

Hood stood motionless. "Jesus, I'm slowing up. Yeah, of course, insect repellent. I got some in town." He went to the kitchen and returned. "How the hell could I have forgotten that?" he said. "Here, I'm putting one in each bag."

Newman looked at the three knapsacks laid out neatly, the three long guns to the right of each knapsack, the three pistol belts were rolled and laid out to the left of each knapsack.

"I also stuck a small first-aid kit in each bag. Bandages, antiseptic, some aspirin," Hood said.

"Chris, that's wonderful," Janet said. "You've thought of everything." "I don't like forgetting the bug dope," Hood said. "I shouldn't forget anything." "How about a canteen?" Newman said.

"No need," Hood said. "The lake's drinkable, and there's a lot of streams, and the Saco River runs clean here. Canteen just weigh you down for nothing."

Hood wore hiking boots, Levi's, and a tan Levi work shirt. As he talked he stared out the living room window toward Karl's camp on the island a half mile away. It was nearly dark and some light showed through the trees from the cabin. Hood picked up his pistol belt and strapped it around his waist. "It would make sense if we wore these all the time. Be ready in case we're surprised. We won't be…" He thought for a minute, couldn't find the right word, shrugged, and said, "You know."

Newman picked up the other two belts. He handed one to Janet and put the other one on. "Here," he said to Janet, "you adjust it this way.

See, you slide this along then put the little hook in here." Together they adjusted the pistol belt. The.32 looked somewhat undersized on the broad web belt.

"Pistol-packin" momma," Newman said.

Janet smiled. Hood stared steadily out the window at the lights on Karl's island.

"Tomorrow," Hood said. "Tomorrow we'll set up a shooting spot and watch the island all the time, take turns. They have to row out there, and we should have a nice clean shot at them when they do. And remember, when we do it, then we get in the car and go. We keep all our clothes and stuff in the car. When we go we take the guns, the bedrolls, and the knapsacks, and drive away. The minute we stop shooting."

Newman nodded. "Yeah, we got it. We went over it all driving up, Chris."

"Does it hurt to run through it to remind us, Aaron?"

"No."

"Okay."

Janet said, "Why don't we grill some steaks over the fire? They've got one of those swing-out grills, built in."

"And a few beers," Newman said, "here in the great outdoors. I'll get a fire going." "You do that," Hood said. "I'm going to look things over a little." He went out through the screened side door, across the small patio, and disappeared without a sound into the tall trees at the edge of the cabin clearing.

Newman got a can of Lite beer from the cooler and drank it as he built the fire. Janet came in from the kitchen with the steaks on a platter.

"I put some beans on to heat," she said. She put the steaks down beside Newman. There were tongs on the platter with the steaks. "I'd set the table," Janet said, "but I don't know where to eat. I wouldn't dare disturb Chris's table layout there. He's got everything laid out like he's ready for surgery." She got a bottle of wine from the cooler and poured some into a transparent plastic cup.

Newman said, "We'll eat off our laps, I think. Chris is fairly intense about his set-up."

"But he's right, Aaron. It can't hurt to be ready."

"Yeah, I know. At home we laughed. at him lurking around in the yard at night, and goddamned if he didn't save our lives. This is probably sensible. But don't you feel like a horse's ass with the gun belt and all?"

"Yes, but I'd be a lot more scared without it."

"True."

The fire began to bite into the logs. Janet turned the lights off, and they sat on the floor in front of the fire as the flames began to get bigger and the shadows moved in the room. Newman got another beer.

"Like a vacation," Newman said.

"Or a honeymoon," Janet said.

"Except we came to kill a man," Newman said.

"There's no other way, Aaron."

The smell of the beans cooking on the stovetop mingled with the woodsmoke. Newman drank some beer. "No, there isn't. I'm glad you're here," he said.

"I belong here," she said. "It is our problem. It happened to us."

"I wish it hadn't."

"But it did."

"I wish I could handle it alone."

"But you can't. Who could?"

"I wish I were someone who could. Chris could."

"I wonder," Janet said. "I wonder if he doesn't need an audience to see how good he is. I wonder if he doesn't need a cause to serve, or a crowd to please."

Newman shrugged. "There's guys that could."

"And there's guys that couldn't do this," Janet said. "Guys that would just fold up and do what they were told. You can't be perfect, Aaron."

"I'd like to be better at this."

"You are being the best you can be. You've been a good father and a good husband and a good writer for a long time now. You've always handled everything you had to. You're handling this. Don't muck it up by wanting to be something else. I wouldn't trade you for Chris."

Newman was silent, sitting close to her, not touching. Chris is none of those things, he thought looking at the fire. Chris was a lousy husband and a bad father. He never was able to handle it when the kids were sick or the money was short or the plumbing broke. All he could do was fight. All he's good at is violence.

"When the going got tough, Chris bailed out," Newman said.

"What?"

"When it got tough at home. When it wasn't fun having kids or wife, Chris would go to the health club or the bars or the gym or hunting. He was tough in fighting, but he wasn't tough in hanging in there."

Janet looked at him, "God, Aaron. I think you're maturing," she said.

"Well it's true," he said, "there's more than one kind of toughness."

She nodded, smiling slightly.

"The thing is, we're in something here that requires a particular kind.

I don't know if I've got it." "I do," Janet said. "I've got it."