By the time Jeremy has returned to Otherwise, the big news around camp is that Chef Jen has disappeared. Rebecca says she heard Jen get up from bed somewhere around 3am, but then she immediately fell back asleep, and didn’t think anything was awry even upon waking this morning. Jen is a noted early riser anyway, particularly as a kitchen worker accustomed to opening shifts. Rebecca is certain Jen never returned to bed, and neither Ben nor Lois has seen any sign of her today, either, though her car remains parked where it has been for days. Now a handful of them are gathered in the café to discuss this situation.
“Well, unfortunately…this wouldn’t be the first walk-off we’ve recently had in this kitchen,” Kidwell observes, shaking his head. But then can’t resist joking, with a laugh, “I’m surprised she lasted this long, actually.”
“Did you two…have a fight or anything?” Lois delicately asks. She and the other women are sitting at the long table, to console a sobbing Rebecca, while Ben remains behind the counter, leaning against it, and Harry paces around.
“No…huh uh…nothing like that!” Rebecca insists, shaking her head with a velocity causing her tears to spatter the table below.
“Well, don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll find something,” Ben says, “Jeremy n’ the others are looking through the woods for her now.”
“Yeah, I’m positive it’s nothing,” Grace says, patting Rebecca on her free, non-tissue holding hand. “Everything will be okay.”
Rebecca shakes her head again and insists, “I just know something terrible has happened. I can feel it!”
“Well…until we figure something else out…,” Kidwell says to Ben and Lois, “think you two can hold the fort? I’ll get more help in here. I’m not sure if I’ll have someone hired in time for the next tour, but…”
Ben waves him off and says, “we’ll be fine,” a sentiment his wife echoes. Ben then adds, grinning as he does, “it’s not going to be any of this fancy fare, you know, it might be a more down to earth menu, so to speak…”
“That’s fine, that’s fine,” Kidwell smiles and insists, “I’m just sitting on a mountain of fancy schmance inventory, is all. Hopefully we can do something with all those…quail eggs…and squid ink and morel mushrooms or whatever, before it goes bad.”
Lois shoots a stern look at the two of them, to straighten up with their clowning. A point well taken as they lapse in silence, and then Kidwell drifts out the back door of the building, off to attend to other pressing matters.
As this conversation is taking place, the search party has already made its way an estimated halfway up the slope of forest, southeast, in the direction of the Welch Pond and that cemetery encountered during Kay’s previous expedition. Her jaw continues to hurt, though it seems to come in waves. Much like thoughts about Noah, and that weird droning rant of his, the other day. Both she occasionally blocks out entirely, though has more commonly shifted back and forth between the two. At present the jaw is winning this battle, and it occurs to her, that for all the puzzling hires, such as Liam Blodgett, and other not quite crucial ones, like Grace – nothing against her personally, of course, as she’s a really sweet girl – it’s strange that Harry didn’t bring on anybody even remotely medically qualified. Considering how removed they are from everything and everyone out here. There’s that little school nurse’s station, inside the office, with a handful of possibly outdated supplies, and that’s about the extent of it. She makes a mental note to inspect that upon returning, and mention this oversight to Harry as well.
Their search party this afternoon consists of familiar, expected faces such as Jeremy and Emily, Denise, Tony, herself, but then also Tom Drucker, who is sketching this terrain now, in a spiral bound pad, and the welcomed wild card Rafael, quiet at first but capable of talking up a storm once you really get to know him. Perhaps believing that in the absence of Clay, he might have some shot at Denise, or possibly just chatting her up at random, or sensing in her a friendly kindred spirit – and true, he might be gay, for all Kay knows about the kid – he is yakking her ear off in particular.
Owing to their distance, though, Rafael is more or less shouting, and Kay has no problem hearing every word he says to Denise. They are walking as a loosely connected pack, though spread out, with each person as far enough away as possible while remaining in sight of the next. Moving up the slope in this fashion, as they scan for any sign that Jen has ventured this way. Throughout, Rafael is explaining his current art project, which everyone must have seen by now anyway.
In a room across the hall from the second floor sleeping quarters, Rafael is building a crawl-through maze using every roll of yarn found in the house. He is cataloging them first, however, noting the color and the diameter remaining, before finding a place for them, in the walls of the maze. Those boards he was sawing the other day are used for the roof alone, for support, although even these he covers with yarn as he goes. Just setting odd spools to rest atop the boards, those which won’t fit elsewhere at that particular moment, and maybe never will.
It’s only upon their reaching the abandoned road that Rafael finally takes a breather. Half a product of their marveling over this peculiar, if only slightly decayed and overgrown sight, and half a regrouping to discuss future strategies, this sudden drop in volume feels like one of those inexplicable moments where hundreds of chirping boards all go silent at once. Everyone is looking down the road, where it ends before some barely visible tombstones. Until, that is, Tony remembers the Welch Pond, and asks if anyone passed it. When this response is basically all crickets as well, he speed walks over to the taped asterisk, placed during that earlier expedition.
“My marker’s still here!” he calls out, pointing down to it. “So, I mean, this would have been somewhere between where…Denise…and you, Kay, were walking just now!”
The remaining half dozen drift over for a look. Drucker is wearing the same old bemused smirk and not only that but scribbling calmly if furiously right now, but if Kay’s not mistaken, the rest of them have the same expression of vague apprehension, as they stare ahead at the bed of pine needles, the slight lip of a rise leading into that dark gap, between the two expected trees. But then, led by Jeremy, begin moving in that direction anyway. A quick but exhaustive search can find no trace of the pond, however.
“I don’t fucking believe this!” Tony remarks, chuckling darkly, if obviously enjoying this little mystery, “it’s not here!”
“See? What did we tell you?” Kay says, in a tone she is hoping sounds somewhere between gruff and sassy, aimed mostly at a disbelieving Jeremy. Maybe partially at Denise, too, although the whole point of this comment was really to align forces with Tony, express that she is totally on the same page as him. “That thing was really strange.”
“Well, I mean, clearly, it’s got to be here somewhere. Either we didn’t walk in far enough or our prankster friend moved the tape or who knows what. Maybe it wasn’t as deep as you thought and just evaporated. I mean, who knows. I’m more interested in that cemetery anyway,” Jeremy declares.
“Yeah, let’s go take a look at the cemetery,” Denise agrees.
Emily speaks up at last and says, “oh no, it was plenty deep, and it was here. But fine, whatever.”
As they walk off toward the abandoned road again, Jeremy and Denise lead the pack. He’s telling her that he forgot to drive this way, to compare the time and distance. But plans on doing so as soon as they return. Tony, who has neglected to film much footage thus far into their journey, extracts a camera from his backpack and is walking slowly in reverse as he captures the scene, where the pond was expected. Meanwhile Kay and Emily stroll side by side, near one another, and discuss in low voices what just happened.
“They don’t get it. I mean, the footage we got doesn’t do it justice, maybe, but…,” Emily says.
“They don’t get it,” Kay agrees.
After peeling away the thin strip of brush, separating road from graveyard, and stepping up the modest incline, Jeremy points out something nobody else had consciously noted or commented upon before: this cemetery is obviously well maintained and mowed on a regular basis, meaning there’s a caretaker, meaning there’s at least one person somewhere whom they can poll for current information. And hopefully a little history as well. He also thinks to stroll down and examine the sign bordering that slight gravel lane, beside the curvy, hilly main road, which reads Fairlawn Cemetery.
“What’s with all this Fairlawn business?” Denise wonders.
“I don’t know. Another mystery to ask about the next time we’re in town,” he says.
“Or Maggie and Owen. I think we should head over to see them.”
Jeremy turns every which way, and looks around while nodding. He appraises every angle of this scene, including the giant lake visible off to the distance, which must be west or southwest, something like that. “I agree. Let’s get moving in that direction. Although I still want to drive this route as soon as we get back.”
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