The Bayou by Arden Powell

Author:Arden Powell [Powell, Arden]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-11T22:00:00+00:00

* * *

“They say more folks are missing in town,” Todd said over dinner. He had spent the day in Chanlarivyè, and the gossip clung to him like burrs. “Papers are buzzing with it.”

“They’re likely evacuating in case the bayou rises anymore,” Monnet mused. “That’s the smart thing to do, anyway.”

“Could be. Who knows?” Todd dunked a crust of stale bread in his soup. “I think it’s the weather. Heat wave like this makes folk go strange, puts all sorts of ideas in their heads. Kind of weather that sets dogs mad—who knows what it does to people?”

Nancy made a sound of neutral agreement.

“You must have summers like this all the time, though,” Walker said. “Louisiana summers? I’d have thought you’d be used to the heat.”

“You never really get used to it,” Nancy said.

Walker looked to Eugene, who shrugged and looked away. The papers said it was the hottest it had been in almost twenty years. He couldn’t remember a time before it. He could barely remember a time before the farmhouse. How long had they stayed already? How many nights? Time flowed at an angle, impossible to grasp. He lay in bed at night and watched the stain on the ceiling spread wider, just as he had done in his apartment. Maybe he had never slept anywhere but in the farmhouse, on that sagging mattress, in the dark without any clocks to mark the hours.

After dinner, he stayed at the table while Walker helped Nancy clear away the dishes. Todd wandered out to the porch to watch the sunset, though Eugene couldn’t see how, not through those trees.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Monnet said. “Nancy bet you’d run back to town before the first night was out, but you never even tried, did you? Johnny said you wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know why not,” Eugene replied.

He found it difficult to look at her face-on. Her eyes were the same tawny hazel as her hair, her skin tanned and glowing gold from her time spent outdoors. She wore dark makeup around her eyes that made them look dangerous and flickering in the house’s strange, constant half-light, like jewels glowing in the dark. She didn't seem the type to wear that make-up for anyone but herself. Certainly not for any man.

“You’re an odd one, you know that?” It didn’t sound mean, not the way she said it, but Eugene shrank back all the same. “If it were up to me, we’d have dumped you on the roadside before we even left Chanlarivyè, but I can see why he kept you around.”

“Why did he?”

“He likes the company. I'd be scared to think what he'd get up to if he were left alone." She drummed her nails against the table, a short staccato rhythm, before shrugging. "So, he collects people like us. I see the way he looks at you," she added. "You're right to be scared of him.”

Eugene felt feverish and cast his gaze aside. "I wouldn't say I'm scared, exactly."

"No? I never was, either.

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