Rabid

“I don’t see what’s so hard to understand about what I’m saying.  We know Dad brought guns with him.  So he had one for sure.  Chances are, he gave one to Mom and probably  Angie, too.  Mom at least knows how to use a rifle.  You think somebody attacked them and wouldn’t leave a trace that anything happened?”

“Someone could have surprised them.  Snuck up on them.”

Taylor trudged through the mud and climbed a small hill.  He sat down on a boulder that was partially buried in the ground and stared in the direction of the lake.

Carl said, “I pissed him off.”

“Should I go talk to him?”

“No.  Let him chill for a minute.  You can’t talk to him when he’s like that.  It’s a funny thing.  Growing up, he never took to any of the same things that my dad and I were interested in.  Dad would take him hunting, but Taylor didn’t have any interest in it.  Didn’t like hurting animals.  I’m the one that grew up tagging along with Dad everywhere he went.  I’ve got the same hobbies.  Taylor’s kind of the black sheep.  A real loner.  It’s almost like he’s adopted.  I mean, he’s not.  I’m just sayin’.  I don’t think my dad could ever relate to him.  But personality wise, it’s a whole different ballgame.  If you compared personalities, my dad’s and brother’s would be almost identical.  They’re both stubborn as hell.  Same sense of humor.  And it’s like he’s just starting to realize that.  I think it’s hard for him.”  Carl paused for a moment.  “I hope Angie’s all right.”

“I keep thinking about my dad,” Tina said.   A tear ran down her cheek.  “I don’t think he made it, Carl.  I think he’s dead.”

“Doesn’t do you any good thinking like that.”

“But that’s reality.  He’s probably dead  Should I kid myself and go on pretending he might be out there somewhere?”

“How do you know you’re kidding yourself?  You hope that he is still alive.  You keep that belief alive until you have proof that the truth is something different.  I couldn’t just give up like that.”

“Or you could be setting yourself up for heartache.”

“There’s heartache either way.  That’s the shitty thing about not knowing.”

“Maybe we should just drop it.  Talking about it just makes me upset.”

“You started it.”

“Yes.  And I reserve the right to end it.  I’d just rather not talk about it anymore.”

Carl thought about adding something else but stopped himself.  It looked like the slightest nudge might push her over the edge.  Beautiful or not, he had no intention of dealing with a hysterical woman.  Maybe throwing a big fit was exactly what she needed, but this didn’t seem like the time or the place to deal with something like that.

Carl sat down next to his brother.  “If your plan is to just sit here and stare at that boat the rest of the day then it’s not a very good one.  No offense.”

“I’m trying to figure it out,” Taylor said.  “I don’t think they were attacked.  The signs aren’t there.  The footprints in the mud aren’t erratic.  No blood.  I checked over there at the top of the hill.  I found tire tracks.  Probably from the van.  Obviously, I never stopped to see what his tire patterns looked like, but they’re too big to be from a car.”

“Okay.  So maybe you’re right.  They weren’t attacked.  Then what’s eating at you?”

Taylor pointed in the direction of the boat.  “That.  It’s the one thing that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Like you said, Dad didn’t tie it off well enough.  Thing floated out to the middle of the lake.”

“I know I said it, but I don’t really believe it.  Dad would have tied it down right.”

“What if he had Mom do it?  Or Angie even?  I’m not sure Angie could have tied a sturdy knot to save her life.”

“Dad would have wanted to do it himself.  And even if he did have one of them do it, he definitely would have checked their work.  You know that.”

“If Dad didn’t mess up, and they weren’t attacked, then what other explanation is there?”

“That’s why it doesn’t make any sense.”  Taylor reached over, picked up a stick, and used it to doodle in the mud.  “I don’t see one.”

Carl stood up.  He stripped off his shirt, his pants, and finally his shoes and socks.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m swimming out to the boat.”  His bare feet sank into the mud.  It was an odd sensation.  “Maybe there’s a note or a clue or something.”

“Are you kidding?  It’s cold enough without being soaking wet to boot.”

“It’ll be fine.  Only take a couple of minutes.”

“Water’s probably freezing.”

“Then I’ll swim fast.  Get my blood pumping.”

“I’m telling you, you’ll freeze.”

“You can hold me.”  Carl smiled at him.

“That’s not happening.”

“Don’t worry.  I’ll figure it out.”  Carl, wearing only his boxer briefs, charged towards the water and plunged in.  He disappeared under the surface briefly and then poked up ten yards farther out, rubbing water from his eyes and shouting.  “Damn!  It’s fucking cold!”

“No shit!”  Taylor said.

Tina walked to the edge of the lake.  “What is he doing?”

“He thinks he’ll find a clue on the boat.”

“Does he want to get hypothermia?”

“That’s what I said.  I don’t think he cares.  It’s how stupid people act in a survival situation.  Start taking needless risks.”  Taylor watched as his brother swam out to the boat.  Carl had passed the halfway point.  He was beginning to wish he had been the one to take that swim.  Whatever Tina thought about his brother’s mental state, he could see by the look on her face that she had a sense of admiration for what he was doing.

“Maybe he’ll find something,” she said.

“We can only hope.”

“You think he’ll make it?”

“Oh, I know he’ll make it.  He’s an excellent swimmer.”

Carl tired near the end.  When Carl reached the boat, his arms were like flubber.  Out of practice, he thought.  It was a struggle to lift himself up into the boat.

Now that he was no longer submerged in water, the cold air froze his skin.  He shivered.  His fingers felt stiff and clumsy when he tried to move them.

A cooler sat in the center of the boat.  He opened it.  It was filled with bottles of water that had been packed in a bed of ice.

It’s been sitting here long enough for the ice to melt completely.

The only other object in the boat was a walkie-talkie.  He picked it up and switched it on.  A red LED at the top next to the volume knob let him know that it still had power.

Moving to the back of the boat, he tried to get the motor started.  It started the same way many lawnmowers started.  There was a handle attached to a long retractable cord.  He yanked on the cord.  Nothing happened.  He tried again.  Nothing.  On the third try, he heaved on it and the motor coughed briefly before dying.

“Come on, baby.  You know you want to start.”  He used both hands, drew the cord back rapidly, and the motor grumbled to life.  “Thank you, God!”

He drove the boat back to shore.  When he was several feet from land, he grabbed the small anchor that lay atop a coil of rope on the floor of the boat.  He motioned for the others to stand clear and tossed the anchor onto the land.  He jumped out of the boat and said, “I guess we can rule out the idea that Dad tied the boat off.  That’s the only rope on the boat and it’s attached to the anchor.”