SCREAMING WITH THE CANNIBALS

Twenty

110 Twenty I ran all the way back to Eli’s farm, the hot night air pushing against my face and singing in my ears. At any moment I expected to hear the sounds of other running feet or of car engines cranking into motion, a posse coming to get the sinner who had lain with his neighbor’s wife. My legs seemed hampered by my jeans and I had difficulty getting up to full stride. I was a good runner, my hard legs carrying me easily, my thick chest and wide shoulders slightly forward, pressing, as my arms drove back and forth to the rhythm of my legs. Sweat began to streak across my forehead. I ran my hand through my short hair and it came away wet. I was warming to the run, my body gearing itself to the task, heating itself into that smooth, liquid state that could sustain work and motion for hours. As I ran I began to feel a sort of exhilaration, a feeling of tremendous strength and well-being. I felt as though I were safe as long as I could run, that somehow there was security in the very act of running and I felt as though I could run forever. I left the narrow paved road as soon as I could and turned down one of the dirt farm roads that strung together the fields and orchards of the countryside. The earth was soft on the road, and springy, the roads not used often enough to keep them hard packed. I ran smoothly, flowing along the ground in even strides, pumping the earth away beneath me. As I neared Eli’s farm I could see the silhouette of the barn against the night sky. There were no lights burning anywhere but I slowed my pace, then walked, then stood motionless for a few minutes , letting my breathing calm down so I could hear something else besides the rush of blood in my own ears. I stared at the barn and 111 listened carefully, but there was no movement or sound. If there were someone waiting for me they were being very, very careful. I circled the barn to its darkest side, then eased up against the wall. There was no one there. I felt a rush of relief in my chest, but not enough to make me careless. I did not turn on any lights, groping my way to the stairs at the back of the main floor, then up to the loft, then along the wall to my room. I pulled my old knife out of the beam and slipped the sheath on my belt. And then I heard the squeak of rusty hinges as a door was slowly pulled open down at the far end of the barn. I knew I was trapped if I stayed in the room, but I couldn’t go back out the way I came in. The single window above my cot was open and I shoved against the hinged window screen, hearing it swing back against the side of the barn. On the floor was a long, heavy rope, one end held securely by a large bolt in the wall below the window, an emergency fire escape that Eli had installed years ago when he had used the room as a repair shop. I picked up a blanket from the cot and threw it out the window, then threw the loose coils of the rope out after it. I swung my legs through the window and slid down the rope, panic tightening my hands. I grabbed the blanket and headed out across the back pasture toward the orchard, running again. The apple trees stood in ordered rows and sheltered the grass beneath them, creating a carpet, a bed of velvet softness. I had slept in the orchard often, smelling the fragrance of the trees and the pungent odor of soil fed by old fruit. I listened to the faint night sounds, looking up through the limbs at the stars. I had never told anyone I slept there. 112 I went to the far edge of the orchard and folded myself against the trunk of a thick tree. I lay there, but I couldn’t sleep. I began wondering if they really were looking for me, wondering if Ruth Ella had stood up and confessed, wondering if I should leave, now, in...