Bennett furrowed his brow. Then he licked his lips.
“At first I thought he killed him. But then Max was still screaming. I wanted to help, but I was like stuck on the ground in the tent. I couldn’t move. And all these distorted images are talking to me in this slurred voice . . . whispering. Max was screaming and Zeke was screaming. Then things got crazy.”
Decker waited.
“I heard . . .” He tapped his temple and shook his head. “I heard like this really loud boom. Like a fucking cannon going off.”
He began trembling as he relived the situation.
“My ears started ringing; my head started vibrating . . . I started shaking. I thought, like: What the fuck! Then a second boom!” He cringed. “The air grew warm and stank of rotten eggs. And shit and stuff started falling on the tent. I swear to God, I thought I was dead. I couldn’t hear a thing. My head was exploding. I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t crawl, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think. All I could do was shake.”
Tears rolled down his face.
“Then everything turned quiet. I didn’t move for . . . I don’t know. It felt like forever, but it might have only been a few minutes. I was finally able to get to my knees. I peeked outside.”
He spread his arms.
“There was this big hole in the ground about five feet from the tent. Like a crater. I couldn’t see clearly because everything was dusty and it had turned pitch outside. Had no idea about Max and Zeke. And I was too afraid to turn on a flashlight. Something very bad was out there.”
“Did you see anything?”
“No, but I could feel it. Like hot breath on my neck.”
Silence.
Then Bennett said, “I finally got the courage to go outside. I dropped to my knees . . . crawling out of the tent . . . on my stomach. My fingers digging up the ground.” He clawed his fingers. “My hand hit something sharp . . . like a knife. I look at it, and there’s this piece of metal sticking out of it. I still have the scar.”
He showed Decker his hands.
“There was shit all over the ground. I pulled out the metal from my hand. I was bleeding bad. Crawling back to the tent . . . to wrap it up.” He made a wrapping motion around his hand. Then he stared at the wall. “I heard the moaning. Like this deep, guttural thing.”
He stopped talking, his eyes focused on something in his brain.
“Didn’t know what the fuck it was. By now, I was back in the tent. I decided to wait for morning. Maybe I’d fall asleep and wake up and realize that it was a bad trip or a bad dream. Of course I didn’t sleep. Maybe dozed a few minutes, then I’d wake up shivering. This went on all night.”
A headshake.
“When morning came, I found Zeke’s car keys in the tent . . . in his sleeping bag. I took them and put on boots and tiptoed outside.” His lip started trembling. “Crater still there . . . everything was, like, destroyed! I wanted to run, but then I saw the bodies. Zeke’s eyes were open. This look of . . . shock . . . stunned terror in his eyes.” He covered his mouth. “He had this giant hole in his chest. Max’s gun had fallen out of his hands. I picked it up.”
“And Max?”
“He was a couple of yards away. His legs were fucked up, dangling, bone sticking out. Like maybe he stepped on a land mine. He was out, but he was breathing.”
A long pause.
“I put him over my shoulder and started walking to the car.” Bennett mimicked a slinging motion. “Blood all over my shirt from his legs. When I picked him up, he started moaning, so I knew he was alive.” He squeezed his head with his hands. “I still hear it all the time.”
Harriet came out and took his hands off his ears. “You’re safe, Bennett.” She leaned against the wall. Tears were in her eyes.
Bennett shook his head. “I thought I was going in the right direction . . . to the car. I walked and walked but couldn’t find it. I must have gotten turned around. I began to panic. I was totally fucked up from what happened.”
He stopped talking. McAdams asked, “What did you do next?”
“I don’t remember too well. I know at some point I put Max down. I couldn’t carry him anymore. My back was so fucking sore. I was thinking that I could come back to him once I figured out where I was. I tried to retrace my steps, but I kept getting lost. I thought . . . this is how I’m gonna die. No food, no water, no good-byes. I’d just drop off the face of the earth. All I had was a fucking gun. You don’t understand how panicked I was.”
Decker said, “I’ve been through battle. I get it.”
“Where? Afghanistan?”
“Vietnam,” Decker said. “Go on. You’re in the woods without food and provisions. Just a gun. And you keep getting lost.”
“I kept walking around and around. Finally, I somehow landed back in camp.”
“Any idea how long you’d been gone?”
“Hours.” A pause. “It seemed like hours.”
Silence.
“Someone had taken all of our shit: the tent and the sleeping bags and the food. Nothing left: no clothes, no backpacks, no money . . . just cleared the place out. I was back to square one. Lost and without any provisions. I was a mess . . . my clothes were soaked and dirty and bloody.”
He stopped talking. It took him a while to find his voice.
“Zeke’s body was gone, but it was clear what happened. The crater had been filled up with soil. For some odd reason, the motherfucker left the shovel. Maybe he planned on picking it up later on. But it was all I had, so I took it and headed off to try to find Zeke’s car. I certainly wasn’t going to stay there.”
Sweat pouring from his forehead.
“Of course, I got lost again. And wouldn’t you know it? I found Max. He was still alive . . . I heard his heart beat, but he had lost consciousness. His breathing was this weird raspy noise that sounded like static . . . one foot in the grave. I just eased the process.”
He made a gun with his hand and fired the trigger with his thumb.
“I buried him . . . it took about two hours, but it was the least I could do.” His eyes turned moist. “I must have walked for hours again. Walked and walked and walked. Finally, I found a road. I tried to hitch a ride, but no one picked me up. I looked like a crazy person: tired, starved, and fucking out of my mind. Blood all over my clothes, shivering with cold and carrying a shovel. On top of everything else, it started to rain.
“Another night in nowhere. Must have been Saturday night. But I was better off than before because at least I was on a road. I was trying to find some kind of civilization. A town or . . . whatever. Never found a town, but I began to pass some cabins. One was dark. I broke in. No one was home. There was some frozen food in the refrigerator. There was canned food and a can opener. There was clothing. My phone didn’t work, but the house phone did. I was gonna call for help. But then I remembered I’d put a hole in Max’s head. I didn’t call the police. I was . . . not thinking right.”
“Scared,” Decker said.
“Terrified.”
“Understandable.”
Bennett looked grateful for the empathy. “I was in shelter, out of the cold. First thing I did was eat. Then I showered . . . I changed into normal clothes—too big but better than being too small. Also, I found a warm jacket. After a night in the woods, I was cold. I left the shovel in the house and hit the road, this time looking like a normal person. Walking until dawn. I never did get a ride, but I found . . . a little place where there was a general store and a gas station. In the middle of nowhere, musta been there for years. It was early in the morning. My phone still didn’t have any bars, and everything was closed. But I saw a motorcycle that was chained to an iron post. I blasted the sucker with Max’s gun, almost blew up my own head in the process . . . hot metal and shit flying everywhere.”