The storm moved rapidly east, leaving a drizzle that tapered away. High in the night, a speck soon became one of many stars. He felt her breathing become normal. His mind relaxed, moving in various directions at once. He thought of her basement, which reminded him of jail, and he realized that she’d been waiting for him on the street.
“Was it you who bailed me out?” he said.
“You guessed.”
“How much it run you?”
“Six.”
“I can’t pay you back anywhere soon.”
“That’s not important.”
“What’d you do it for?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Not for this,” he said. “You didn’t get me out just to bring me here, did you?”
“No. I’m not that hard up.”
“Well, why then?”
“That deputy hasn’t slept in three days. The flood’s just too big for him. Sort of over his head. You’re the first person he saw all summer that he didn’t have a history with. He’s not really that mean.”
“Sounds like you know him pretty good.”
“He’s my brother.”
Zules became tense, aware that the air had turned chilly and he was lying in mud. Kentucky had high ground, woods to hide in, and thousands of creeks to drain the water. When he was home, he felt smothered by hills. Now he was trapped by flood. He’d been safer in jail. A part of him envied Sheetrock for knowing exactly what he wanted. Zules chuckled.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing. Just a guy in jail.”
“It should be me.”
“You wouldn’t like it.”
“Maybe not,” she said. “But I’m guilty.”
“Everyone is of something.”
“I mean really guilty.”
“You don’t have to tell me nothing.”
“It was me who blew that dike.”
She began to cry and he held her.
“I thought it would take the pressure off down here,” she said. “You know, save the town from getting flooded out. I wanted to help people, but that man died. It’s the same as if I killed him.”
Zules gave the woman a long, tight hug and gently lifted her off him. She was shivering. Her wet hair made her head look small. He led her into the house and poured vodka, which seemed to revive her. Water pooled on the floor where they stood. Zules closed his pants and buckled his belt, feeling awkward since she was naked. A mosquito hummed past his ear. He wanted to say something but didn’t know what. She spoke instead.
“You just go around living however you want. Must be nice to be that free.”
“Except for going to jail.”
“That’s all this town is. One big jail of water.”
Zules slid his hand in his pocket and offered her the little gourd. The seeds rattled. She held it in cupped hands, dripping water.
“For luck,” he said.
“I hurt all over.”
“I know.”
“There’s no need to stay,” she said, “or go.”
He wondered what she wanted but didn’t know how to find out. He moved to the door, still looking at her. Mud ran up her legs past her knees, reminding him of old-fashioned stockings. She was holding the gourd. As he left he realized how lovely her shoulders were.
Zules began walking, unsure of direction and not really caring. The night sky had temporarily cleared to a black sheen filled with stars. He could feel the water in his boots, the weight of mud on his back. He shut down his mind and walked, glad for the necessity of motion. From everywhere came the steady sound of dripping water.
A police car slowed in a crossroads and stopped beside him. The deputy was driving. He wasn’t wearing his uniform, and Zules felt as if a hellhound had finally found his trail. As the water rose, he was sinking. He was going to be killed and lost in the flood and he didn’t really care. He was tired. For his mother’s sake, he hoped that someone would find his body. It occurred to him that dying on a cold wet night was no worse than a fine autumn day.
“How’s she doing?” the deputy said.
“My mother? They’ll knock her in the head on Judgment Day.”
“You know who I mean,” the deputy said. “Is she all right?”
“Not exactly.”
“Get in.”
“I’m pretty bad muddy.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s a county car.”
“I don’t really need a lift.”
“Just get in the stinking car. I’ll run you by your motel.”
Zules slid in the front seat and the deputy made a U-turn. He drove past blinking yellow lights on sawhorses that blocked flooded streets. All the houses were dark. People sat on the porches holding flashlights and rifles.
The deputy stopped at the motel. A maple by the door had been hit by lightning and the lot was covered with wood chips and twigs. Zules could smell the fresh scent of the tree’s inner meat. The burn mark ran to the ground.
“Charges are dropped,” the deputy said.
“That state trooper clear me?”
“No. We got a witness. An old man saw a car leaving the scene. He can put the driver in it, too.”
The deputy sighed. He shifted his body toward Zules. His voice was low and sad, defeated.
“I know who did it.”
“Anyone else know?” Zules said.
“Not unless you do.”
“What about the witness?”
“He’s an old river rat,” the deputy said. “Long as he don’t get busted for running trotlines, he won’t say nothing.”
“And if he did, nobody’d believe him.”
“About like you.”
“In that case,” Zules said, “I best be leaving.”
A shower came over the car, the drops rapid as if a squirrel ran along the roof. The rain moved down the street. The motel’s neon sign abruptly went out. Lightning flashed on the horizon and Zules realized that he’d been hearing the dull rumble of thunder for a long time. It was coming from everywhere, like the rain.
He opened the car door but the deputy’s voice stopped him. “I don’t know what to do. I thought I did but I’m not sure anymore. You ever get that way?”
“That’s why I left home.”
“I’ve never lived anywhere but this place.”
“How come you to be a cop?”
“Just like to see things run smooth, I guess. I know everybody here, who their folks are and their kids. Every little thing they do. I know who steals and who looks in windows and who sleeps with who. I’m tired of it, too. But the knowing keeps me here.”
“Same thing drove me off my home hill.”
The deputy grinned, a thin expression that was gone fast. “Real reason is, ten years ago I couldn’t afford a car. I let the county give me one.”
“That’s why I took my first driving job.”
“But you can move on.”
“I’d rather be a stayer.”
Zules walked to his truck and climbed into the cab. He let the engine warm up, feeling its power vibrate through his body, relaxing him. He felt safe. It was the highest above ground he’d been since leaving jail. Sheetrock was right about the safety of the cell. Zules decided to give him a call in a few days, same as he would his mother.
Zules opened his map and stared at the red and blue highway lines until they blurred like veins under skin. He was pretty close to the edge of the country, with nowhere to go. He sat in the truck for a long time, looking into the darkness. The wet land was flat as tin. He decided to head home for good. He was thirty-one, with no ex-wife and a little money. There’d be someone to marry him. He could get his own place then. He’d sell the truck and apply for work, maybe as a cop. He thought he’d make a good one.
Rain fell in waves and his headlights were dull against the fog. He put the truck in gear and headed home, moving into second and third carefully. It was dangerous to drive fast without a trailer behind him. He needed a heavy load to keep him stable.