Ghost Hand (#Wattys2016)

Chapter 16, David's List

I woke up slowly, my head still aching, but it was better. Way better.

This time the dog-shaped stain on the tent's interior seemed to greet me, and by the way burnt orange and murky green shadows danced on the canvas walls, I thought it must be dusk.

Marcus had spent all night taking care of me, waking me up at intervals, giving me pain medicine, bringing me water, and tucking me in. By morning we'd both been exhausted, and he'd finally promised I could sleep without interruption. Apparently, I'd taken him up on it and slept all day.

I glanced around. It didn't hurt as much to turn my head. At least I could do it without feeling like I was going to hurl.

The tent wasn't huge, maybe ten feet square. It had a pitched roof about six feet at the peak. Right next to my cot was the orange camp chair Marcus had sat in all night. As I looked at it a memory flashed in my mind—Marcus asleep in that chair pulled up next to me, his long arm stretched over mine, his hand cupped protectively over my ghost hand.

Beyond the camp chair on the far wall was a square flap covering a screened window. Below the window was a small folding table with a laptop on it. Surrounding the computer were neat stacks of papers and what looked like maps weighted down by a compass, a lighter, a Swiss Army knife, and a rock. Pulled up to the table was another orange camp chair.

In one corner of the tent was an old trunk, the sleeve of a shirt and a sock hanging out from under its mostly closed lid. The top of the trunk was doubling as a table as well, sporting a large plastic jug of water, some enamel camp ware, a coil of rope, an old camp lantern, and the hydration pack we had drunk from on Old Delarente Road.

Beyond the foot of my cot were the door flaps, tied shut but billowing a little in the wind. Just inside the door, was a welcome mat that read "GET OUT" in bold black letters.

It was a cozy place. A safe place, just like he'd promised.

Carefully, I sat up, pushed the quilt away, and swung my legs over the side of the cot. The walls of the tent were growing dark, but my ghost hand lit up all but the corners of the interior.

So far so good. My head wasn't spinning or hurting much more than it had when I'd been lying down.

From outside, I could hear the occasional murmur of voices, the clang of pans, the slosh of water, all the sounds of a camp cleaning up after dinner. Dinner. At the mere thought of the word, my stomach gave an audible and very unladylike growl. When was the last time I'd eaten?

Marcus had given me something that morning, saltines accompanied by the instructions, "Don't puke in my tent." Before that, there had been the almonds, most of which I'd thrown in someone's face, or thrown up. Before that, mushy hospital food. No wonder I was starving.

I glanced at the door of the tent. I could go out there and look for Marcus, or some food, or both. There were probably leftovers from dinner, and the smells that still hung in the air were enticing. My stomach growled again, but I just couldn't bring myself to leave. Maybe it was the lingering memory of that weird dream of my dad and Bluefly Lake. It wasn't rational, but it was there. Fear. Fear of the unknown. I knew what was in this tent. Knew I was safe. I had absolutely no idea what was out there, who was out there. Marcus had claimed them as friends, but what would they be to me?

Maybe there was food stashed in the tent somewhere. I'd seen the way teen boys ate at school—like ravenous, insatiable dogs. Had Marcus gone out to get the crackers last night, or was there a stash in his tent? I couldn't remember, but that was nothing a little snooping couldn't solve.

I began my search. No food on the computer table, probably none in the trunk where he kept his clothes, but beyond the trunk was a stack of several plastic storage tubs with lids which I hadn't been able to see from the cot. I opened the top one, stuck my ghost hand in as a flashlight, and Bingo! The saltines. More almonds. Some dried fruit. A bag of cinnamon and raisin bagels. Several chocolate bars. Yum.