Page 65 of It Happened on the Lake

“Harper’s cool,” Chase insisted. “Look, man, I know you’re a boy scout. Always trying to do the right thing. All gung ho army and all.”

Rand didn’t argue. Couldn’t. He didn’t mind serving, had signed up, but the war—that was a whole different thing. So, gung ho for a tour in Vietnam and getting his ass shot up? No. He was far from keen on going. Going AWOL had crossed his mind more than once, but those thoughts had been short-lived. A fantasy. No, he was in for serving the country. For now. Rand snorted his disbelief and jammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Listen, I get it. And if I could serve, man, I would, but I can’t go, I just can’t.”

Chase was shaking his head, long hair shimmering in the moonlight. He drew the joint down to a roach, which he snuffed out between his fingers as he finally let out the smoke. “I’m just sick of my life, ya know? I’m tired of being told what to do. Teachers, coaches, and my dad. Jesus, my dad. Thomas Calhoun Hunt. I’m never good enough for him. No matter what I do. He’s always on my case. So, no. I’m not going to let some dick army sergeant start breaking my balls. I get enough of that shit at home. You know what I’m talking about.”

Rand did. His father hadn’t been afraid to pull out his belt and use it on Rand to keep him “in line.” Gerald Watkins believed “Spare the rod, spoil the child,” and his thin strap of a belt had been used to bring his point home and make his recalcitrant child obey. Thomas Hunt, too, was known to force Chase or Levi to cut a switch from the willow tree that hung over the lake, then bring it to him so he could use it on their bare asses. Not often. Just enough to remind his sons who was the boss.

“Shit.” Chase was shaking his head. “It’s time to live my own life.” He reached into the pocket of his jeans. “And to that end, wanna go on a trip?” He pulled out a small packet.

“A trip to where?”

Unwrapping a sugar cube, Chase said in a low voice, “Anywhere you want to go, man. Anywhere at all.”

Rand shook his head. “Not into acid.”

“Your loss.” Chase swallowed the cube and grinned in the darkness, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

“Where the hell did you get it?”

“Guy at the house at the end of the street. Goes by Trick. From somewhere in Texas. Near the border, I think.” He grinned. “He can get you whatever you want. Any slice of heaven. I’m not kidding. You want me to hook you up?”

“No. Look, I should get going,” Rand said. Let Chase trip-out by himself.

“Not yet.” Chase grabbed him by the elbow. “I might need your help.”

Rand didn’t like the sound of that. “With what?”

“I’ve got to leave. My time is up, man. I’m thinking about leaving. Seriously. Get the fuck out.”

“You’re all over the place,” Rand said and jerked his arm away. First he was going to knock up Harper, probably marry her, then no, he was gonna break up with her because she wasn’t pregnant but maybe some other girl could be. Now he was going on an acid trip before talking about taking off. “Now you want to cross the border? Go to Canada?”

“I could hike up there, I guess . . .” His voice faded off, as if he wasn’t sure.

“Or—?”

“Or, you know. Disappear.”

“What?”

Chase reached down, picked up a rock, and flung it out into the darkness. It sailed into the ravine before plopping into the water, the sound barely audible over the river’s rush. “I could fake dying.”

Chapter 17

Rand froze, his friend’s words echoing through his brain. Was Chase kidding? Was he really thinking about faking his own death? “You’re not serious.”

Chase shrugged, the fringe of his jacket rippling in the half-light of the moon. “Yeah. Kinda.”

“Oh shit.” Was Chase already tripping, the drugs talking? But the suddenly somber tone of his friend’s voice convinced him that Chase had considered the weird idea. “How the hell would you do that?”

“I’m working on it,” Chase admitted. “Just if, you know, I come up missing?” He paused, and for a few minutes all that could be heard over the rush of the river was the continued hooting of the owl. “I might need your help.”

“What? My help for you to disappear? Are you crazy?” Rand pulled off his cap and ran his fingers over the short hairs on his head. “Shit, man, what’re you saying?”

“You do nothing,” Chase said, and he did seem more mellow, as if the LSD was working some kind of magic on him. “Don’t say a word. And just don’t look too hard for me.”

“Are you nuts? I can’t—”

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