Michael Beeson's Research

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While undressing, he realized he still had the girl’s camera. He removed it from the pocket of his shirt, turning the thing in his hands like a puzzle cube. He pressed the power button at its top and switched a small dial from the icon of a camera to the icon of a Play button, the way Caitlyn had shown him, so he could look through the pictures the girls had taken earlier and the ones he had taken, as well. He searched through them backwards, clicking the left arrow button. There they were, the girls, smiling from the yellow van, making faces, alternately flipping the camera the bird or the peace sign. Then, further back in the camera’s history, he found the photos Caitlyn had taken of Allie alone up there, pretending to look out onto an open highway. At the edge of the picture Phil noticed himself and Jim. Just standing there, squinting in the harsh light of the sun. Phil’s arms crossed and Jim’s akimbo, hands at his hips, bothmen looking in Allie’s direction, mouths open as if they were laughing. Phil thumbed the circular button with the icon of a trash bin, and the image was gone. “I could just take your key and drive your Humvee outta here.” “I know what you mean.” Inside was another cryptogram, if it could be called such, written in the style of the message at Peter Rohrbach’s grave. A clever, artful hand had drawn first a rendering of a deer, a pea pod, a toe, and single syllables interspersed with a saw, a star with a tail, and what looked like several human eyes, closing with an oval from which several vertical lines extended, one with a fat cap at the top. At the bottom was a hasty postscript in plain text.Colonel Barre has offered encouraging words from London. “What kind of name is that?” “But you stayed with him?” I kept telling Lloyd the story: I drove in the direction of our old paintball field, far enough out of town to be left undeveloped for now. The dark was setting in, and no streetlamps lined the road. I was the only driver in sight, so I took my time. I flashed my high beams at the desert shrubs, searching for the old paint, which must have come off by now in the rain and wind. When I reached what I remembered to be the right place, I pulled the car to the side of the road and felt the sand settle underneath the tires. I left the engine going and kept the headlights on, but got out of the car. A realty sign I’d once shot at still hung there, though nothing had been purchased or built. That far out, the wind came at me in sprints. The chains of the realty sign clamored, and in the east, stars began to show themselves. Across my stomach, I held my arms to stay warm. A scratching noise came over the sound of the engine; a wide and squat tumbleweed had nested under the front fender. “Shit,” I said, getting low to clear it. “Y’er such a wee thing,” Teague said to her. “I wager I can skewer ye both with one thrust,” he hissed. Through his fog of pain Duncan raised his hand, dripping with blood, to shove Sarah away, but she only rose enough to kneel beside him. As she reached for the bloody spear that had impaled Duncan a figure hurled past her with a furious Gaelic cry. Murdo hit Teague like an angry bull, knocking the spear from his grip and flattening him on the planks. He pounded the Irishman three times on the jaw before Teague could react. With a furious bellow Teague arched his back and threw Rossoff. Teague grinned despite the blood on his lips.“He said he was building up a powerful black hunger. That’s what he calls it. For the black rum on black nights lying with black girls.” Maybe you should do it more often. Good memories can be very constructive. You had lots of good times, and we had lots of them together. Out east, for example. “Yeah.” “I’m not all that plump …” As Hobart slapped him, Chuga erupted from the reeds, snarling, spooking Kincaid’s horse. The lieutenant reined in his mount and rode off laughing. Place of the Heart At night, after Lloyd’s gone, your father falls asleep in his favorite recliner. Remember the reason — the false one — you are here. You almost forgot, didn’t you? Find your mother’s old car keys hanging by a pink plastic lanyard by the door, and take them into your bedroom. Take care to be quiet. Slowly, slide open the bedroom window and, as you did a million years ago, heave yourself through. “Because … you’re not one of them, you’re not like anyone else. And then because, when we are married …” “I am grateful for your efforts, sir,” the officer said. “I am loathe to prescribe the tincture to my sailors for fear of habituation but laudanum was the right measure for my extremity. I had a blessed rest and when I awoke the fever had passed. I should return to my ship but Mrs. Dawson makes me too comfortable. I am indebted, McCallum.” You’re pretty smooth. I got a little teary too. Not the racking anguish I felt on the mountainside. This was more like a gentle mist than a raging storm. But still it moved me enough to get up and go over to Marcia. I knelt down next to her ceramic chair and embraced her. She was stiff at first but then let go and cried on my shoulder..