Read Online Adrift in the Sound by Kate Campbell - Free Book Online Page B

under the slight weight of a faded mattress. The cabin’s big windows faced a small cove. The wood-burning stove, its door gaping open, stood cold in the corner. She went to the alcove where sheepherders had once stowed gear—boots and jackets, shears and combs for skirting wool—and pulled a big plastic bag from the back. Untying it, she tugged out her sleeping bag, freed a pillow from the bottom, its case delicately edged with Mrs. Cutler’s feather-stitched embroidery. She arranged them on the cot, blew out the candles, and lay down.
    In the quarter moon’s dim light, Lizette looked through the window panes set floor to ceiling, to the inlet where the Salish Sea lapped the beach below the cabin. She scanned the meadow that sloped to the sand and, in the faint moonlight, saw woodland star flowers peeking through the salt grass. She turned on the cot, heard the springs creak, and relaxed into the peace and privacy.
    When she woke, it was light outside. A water jug and tube of rice cakes were on the floor beside the cot. On the table she saw a jar of peanut butter and a bear-shaped plastic bottle of honey. Marian , she thought, and got up to pee in the porcelain chamber pot by the door. She nibbled at a rice cake, got back into bed, stretched the sleeping bag over her cold shoulders. She slept on the razor’s edge of a black pit, unconsciously checking twitches that would send her over the precipice and into convulsive free fall.
    She fought it off, but the memory roared in, flattened her on the cot. The Twisted Owl. Men in dark clothes. Smoky haze. She’d looked for Fisher, tried to find him sitting in with the band. In her head, Marvin Gaye blasted “Let’s Get It On” from the juke box. She felt hungry. She fought for unconsciousness, tried to submerge, searched for a blank canvas, sleep, couldn’t find it.
    He touched her thigh, gestured for a dance, clutched her to him. Smelled of grease and sweat. She’d gagged and felt his hands slip below her waistband. Peeking over his shoulder, she saw a man watching them. He caught her eye, leered, pushed toward her in the crowd, she pulled away from her chubby partner, looked for the door. Her mind slipped into a blank place.
    Then snatches of angry yelling gripped her in her sleep. Stabbed! Bleeding! Damn! Call an ambulance!” She felt crushed as the crowd rushed the door. The chubby guy turned her loose and moved away. She slid to the side wall and threaded her way to the window, found a spot that looked onto the street. A man lay on the ground in the rain, his legs twisted, blood from his belly running thin across the wet sidewalk. Another man staggered to the window, leaned against the glass and braced his hand against the surface, blood leaking through his fingers, smearing the window in front of her. She touched the glass, momentarily fascinated with the carnal, translucent hue, then turned and pushed back through the bodies clogging the tavern’s front door.
    She went to her table, fished her canvas bag out from under it, and ran for the rear door, paused to listen, catch her breath before turning the knob. The door swung into the alley, in her dream the step down felt like falling from a high ledge. She looked over her shoulder, then up and down the alley to make sure it was clear. She decided to take the long way to the next street, avoid the commotion. Sirens, getting closer, screaming. The buildings looked slimy. Boarded up windows and metal doors stared blindly into the narrow darkness. She floated toward the streetlight at the end, rain sparkling in the glow.
    He shoved her from behind, wedged her into a doorway, black overcoat dropping around her, hand clamped over her mouth. He snapped her head back, put his head beside her cheek, breath smelling like rotten fish. He ripped down her loose jeans, spread her legs with his knees. She flashed on his sure moves, knew he’d done this before, screamed “ Help!” into his thick, calloused fingers. He pulled