Miranda’s arms encircled her. She cupped Lorna’s breasts and licked her earlobe, nibbled her neck. Lorna cried out and grabbed Miranda’s wrist before she registered who it was and relaxed. “Holy crap, you almost gave me a heart attack!” The floor creaked horribly; they’d even played a game of chopsticks by rhythmically pressing alternating sections with their shoes, but she hadn’t heard her lover cross the room. Not a whisper.
——
Something metallic snicked and an orange flame reflected in the window, and sweet, sharp smoke filled Lorna’s nostrils. Miranda gently pressed a cigarette to Lorna’s lips. Miranda said, “I needed this earlier, except I was too damned lazy to leave the covers. Better late than never.”
“God, you read my mind.” Lorna took a drag, then exhaled contentedly. The nicotine mixed with the alcohol did its magic. Her fear of the night land and its creatures receded. “I guess I can forgive you for sneaking up on me since you’ve offered me the peace pipe. Ahhh, I’ve fallen off the wagon. You’re evil. Did you hear the wolves?”
“Those aren’t wolves,” Miranda said. She reclaimed the cigarette. She inhaled, and the cigarette’s cherry floated in the window as her face floated in the window, a blur over Lorna’s shoulder. “Those are coyotes.”
“No shit?”
“Is that why you’re so jumpy? You thought the wolves were gonna get you?”
“I’m not jumpy. Well, sheesh—an almost full moon, wolves howling on the moor—er, in the woods. Gotta admit it’s all kinda spooky.”
“Not wolves. Coyotes. Come to bed . . . It’s chilly.”
“Right. Coyotes,” Lorna said. “I’m embarrassed. That’s like peeing myself over dingoes or raccoons.”
Snug under a pile of blankets, Lorna was drifting off to sleep when Miranda said in a dreamy voice, “Actually, coyotes are much scarier than wolves. Sneaky, sneaky little suckers. Eat you up. Lick the blood all up.”
“What?” Lorna said. Miranda didn’t answer. She snored.
——
One morning, a woman who resembled Vivien Leigh at the flowering of her glory knocked on the door. She wore a green jacket and a green-and-yellow kerchief and yellow sunglasses. Her purse was shiny red plastic with a red plastic strap. Her gloves were white. Her skirt was black and her shoes were also black. She smiled when Lorna opened the door, and her lipstick was blood red like the leaves. “Oh, I’m very sorry to disturb you, ma’am. I seem to be a trifle lost.” The woman introduced herself as Beth. She’d gone for a drive in the hills, searching for the Muskrat Creek campground.
“Apparently, I zigged when I should’ve zagged,” she said, and laughed a laugh worthy of the stage. “Speaking of zigzags, do you mind?” She opened an enamel case and extracted a cigarette and inserted it into a silver holder and lighted up with a stick match. It was all very mesmerizing.
Lorna had nearly panicked upon hearing the knock, convinced Bruce had tracked her down. She invited the woman inside and gave her a cup of coffee. Miranda had gone on her morning walk, which left Lorna with the task of entertaining the stranger while deflecting any awkward questions. She unpacked the road map from her Subaru and spread it across the table. She used a pencil to mark the campgrounds, which were twenty-odd miles from the cabin. Beth had wandered far off course, indeed.
“Thank goodness I came across you. These roads go on forever.” Beth sipped her coffee and puffed on her fancy cigarette. She slipped her sunglasses into her purse and glanced around the cabin. Her gaze traveled slowly, weighing everything it crossed. “You are certainly off the beaten path.”
“We’re private people,” Lorna said. “Where’s your car?”
Beth gestured toward the road. “Parked around the corner. I didn’t know if I could turn around in here, so I walked. Silly me, I broke a heel.” She raised her calf to show that indeed, yes, the heel of her left pump was wobbly.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes. I was supposed to meet friends at the campgrounds, but I can’t reach anybody. No bars. I’m rather cross with them and their directions.”
Lorna blinked, taking a moment to realize the woman meant she couldn’t get proper phone reception. “Mine works fine. I’d be happy to let you place a call—”
“Thanks anyway, sweetie.” Beth had sketched directions inside a notebook. “It’ll be a cinch now that I’ve got my bearings.” She finished her coffee, said thanks and goodbye, waving jauntily as she picked her way down the rutted lane.
Lorna started the generator to get hot water for a quick shower. After the shower, she made toast and more coffee and sat at the table relaxing with a nice paperback romance, one of several she’d had the foresight to bring along. Out the window, she glimpsed movement among the trees, a low and heavy shape that she recognized as a large dog—no, not a dog, a wolf. The animal almost blended with the rotten leaves and wet brush, and it nosed the earth, moving disjointedly, as if crippled. When it reared on its hind legs, Lorna gasped. Miranda pulled back the cowl of the hide cloak and leaned against a tree. Her expression was strange; she did not quite appear to be herself. She shuddered in the manner of a person emerging from a trance and walked to where the driveway curved and left three paper plates pressed into the bank. She spaced the plates about three feet apart. Each bore a bull’s-eye drawn in magic marker.
Miranda came inside. She’d removed the hide. Her hair was messy and tangled with twigs and leaves. “Who was here?” Her voice rasped like she’d been shouting.
“Some woman looking for a campground.” Lorna recounted the brief visit, too unnerved to mention what she’d witnessed. Her heart raced and she was overcome by dizziness that turned the floor to a trampoline. Miranda didn’t say anything. She opened a duffel bag and brandished a revolver. She examined the pistol, snapping its cylinder open, then shut. Lorna wasn’t particularly conversant with guns, but she’d watched Bruce enough to know this one was loaded. “I thought we were going to discuss it before you bought one,” she said.
Miranda rattled a small box of shells and slipped them into the pocket of her vest. “I didn’t buy one. A friend gave it to me when I told him about Brucifer. An ex-cop. This sucker doesn’t have a serial number.”
“There’s no reason to be upset. She was lost. That’s all.”
“Of course she was.”
Lorna watched her put the gun in her other pocket. “What’s wrong?”
“You’ve only paid cash, right? No debit card, no credit card?”
“You mean in town?”
“I mean anywhere. Like we agreed. No credit cards.”
“Tell me what’s wrong. She was lost. People get lost. It’s not unheard of, you know. And it doesn’t matter. I didn’t tell her my name. I didn’t tell her anything. She was lost. What was I supposed to do? Not answer the door? Maybe stick that gun in her face and demand some ID?”
“The campgrounds are closed,” Miranda said. “I was outside the door while she gave you her shuck and jive. She came in a panel van. A guy with a beard and sunglasses was driving. Didn’t get a good look at him.”
Lorna covered her face. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
Miranda’s boots made loud clomping sounds as she walked to the door. She hesitated for a few moments, then said, “It’s okay. You handled her fine. Bruce has got entirely too much money.”