Terrence slumped forward onto his knees. I didn’t move. I didn’t scream. All I could do was stare as a large stream of dark red liquid began to cascade down his chest, shining in the sunlight.
I was still down, so now the two of us were kneeling mere yards away, facing each other, like some sort of bizarre warrior ritual. The blade was lodged. As Terrence reached back to grab the handle, he found that he couldn’t even raise his arms. All he could do was look at me. Toward me.
Why?
Clay must have seen it on my face. Why did you stab your friend?
“To protect you,” answered Clay without my asking.
He stepped forward and withdrew the blade from Terrence’s neck. I was watching close, petrified. He looked up and held my gaze. Then he seemed to recognize my fear and tossed it on the ground, seemingly in demonstration of a truce.
“I never wanted it to come to this,” he said. He was about to bare his soul. I could feel it. “Sadly, these are the forces we’re up against.”
Exhibit A. He gestured toward Terrence’s body. Exhibit B. The body of the SUV driver. Exhibit C. The body floating down the river.
“Aaron and I…” he said. “We’re facing powers well beyond our control. I had to find the right moment. Terrence wanted to kill you, and I desperately needed to protect Aaron.”
I was trembling. “W-what is this?” I asked, referring to the entirety of the debacle. The company. The men. My husband. The history. Everything.
“There isn’t time,” he replied. “We have to hurry.”
Terrence was on the ground, facedown. It was over for him.
I felt sick, despite the fact that this wasn’t even the first dead body I’d seen on this wonderful vacation. Clay used a booted foot to push him over, and it rolled with a strange limpness. There’s something rather vacant about a corpse, the way the shoulder flops over. The feet surrender. The expressionless face.
Clay kneeled, inspecting the body. I doubted it was easy for him to do what he did, but it was hard to detect telltale signs of a conscience in Clay. He seemed fine.
He looked over to tell me the heavy words I knew were eventually coming.
“Aaron’s not innocent.”
I didn’t have a response.
“But he’s a good man,” he continued. “And you’ll need my help if you want to bring him to a doctor.”
He let that sit for a second. He stood up. Need his help? His help? I was suspicious but I knew I had no choice.
“A doctor?” I questioned.
“The clock’s ticking.”
I had to oblige him. In all these outlandish happenings, it made sense that the only way out was an outlandish offer.
“All right,” I said. “But on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“The keys to the SUV…I carry them.”
He dug in his pocket and tossed them to me. No hesitation. He was willing to do whatever I wanted.
I had more to say, more to demand. “The rifle…I hold it.”
There was a natural pause here but I hit him with a third condition before he could object.
“And you…” I said. “You keep in front of me.”
He weighed his options, looking across the canyon and the river, with so many nooks and crannies where one might hide. He stepped forward, closer to me but not intrusively so. I nodded to the river. He seemed to know immediately what I meant. We’d be hiking upstream.
I slung the rifle over my shoulder. The upper hand was mine now. It was tangible. Not because of the weapon, but because of the map in my head.
“Let’s go,” I said to him.
“Let’s go save lives,” he said back.