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woven
together.
    They all sat down and kept
drinking their beers. The men seemed to drink theirs much faster
than she did hers. She kept glancing at Dawn thinking, Erica wasn't
completely sure, that since they both had vaginas they'd be able to
talk. Blake and Walt seemed to do most of the talking. Erica
half-listened for clues as to what exactly she'd gotten herself
into or even just something that could explain or rationalize what
she sat in the middle of. But, unless they spoke in some kind of
code, they were talking about the most common shit imaginable.
Mostly it seemed like they were talking about other people. Again,
it was mostly Blake and Walt doing the talking, Blake taking long
chugs from his beer before wiping the condensation on his
fingertips through his already damp hair. Jask and Shump sat next
to one another and mostly nodded or smiled like they were just
happy to be around the other two men. Toadies , she thought, and felt a
moment of prideful relief that Walt was not a toady. She concluded
the girl, Dawn, must be on something. Dawn took small sips of her
beer and lit cigarette after cigarette, letting the ash get
ridiculously long before taking a drag from it. Of course, Erica
wondered how she must look to Dawn. She felt so tired and odd it
probably seemed like she was on something, also. And she still had
the paint on her face that she kept forgetting about. There
certainly wasn't any attempt to bring her into the conversation. If
Walt and the Boys were of a certain kind of person and Walt had, in
her, recognized some kindred spirit, she would have thought there
would be some attempt to reveal to her what was shared and inherent
between them all. That, if there was something to take away from the
conversation, was the only thing she would be able to manage paying
attention to. Dawn stood up and walked toward the entrance of the
barn. Erica watched the musical shuffle of her hips until the
darkness swallowed her. She reached into the cooler for another
beer. She opened it and sat back in the chair. Her head spun. She
closed her eyes to try and lock into some part of the conversation,
telling herself she should at least try to join in. After all, they
weren't going to be here very long so she didn't really need to
worry about embarrassing herself but, the harder she tried to focus
on it, the less sense it made. Now it seemed like they were all
talking at once and at first she thought they were talking in a
foreign language but, if that were the case, it was one she
couldn't even identify. It sounded like an ancient language made up
of hisses and breaths. She opened her eyes and tried to focus on
the man sitting across from her and at first she thought they'd all
turned into reptiles and that the barn had been replaced by a cave.
Then she thought, No, this is
home . Then: No,
not home. Very far from home . And while it
was true that she was, technically, right now, as far away from her
home as she'd ever been, she felt like the distance her brain was
trying to convey was somewhat more glacial, something having to do
as much with time and mental state as distance. When she finally
blinked away the image of the men as ancient monsters, they were
brought back into focus, standing, all pounding their beers. Again
she saw this thread of normalcy and had to remind herself they were
surrounded by dead bodies, stolen merchandise, and a dog dangling
over an open flame.
    "We've gotta take off," Walt said. "You
girls stay here and guard the fort."
    Erica tried to say something but her mouth
wouldn't work and she followed them out into the night, the air and
the lack of acrid smoke clearing her head somewhat. She lit a
cigarette as the guys piled into the van and shot down the gravel
lane. It was immediately quieter and Erica felt a pang of
loneliness until she heard a sound to her left and turned to see
Dawn shuffling around the barn.
    "You get high?" Dawn asked.
    No , Erica thought but said, "Maybe." Because, well, at