Page 70 of It Happened on the Lake

The doe’s eyes found his as it flew across the road.

It touched down just beyond his front fender, missing the headlight by inches, only to bound into the surrounding thicket. “Holy crap.” His heart was pounding, adrenaline surging through his blood from the near miss.

For a few seconds, he didn’t move. Just stared into the forest and let out his breath as the Rolling Stones kept on playing and his heartbeat slowed. He barely heard the lyrics about losing dreams and losing your mind, but somehow they seemed to fit with the night.

At least I didn’t hit the deer, he thought, then admonished himself. It was only a deer, for Christ’s sake. He was on his way to hunt other men, or boys probably younger than himself, in Southeast Asia.

The enemy.

Charlie.

A deer was nothing. “Shit.” He ground his teeth together and started again, shifting through the gears as the ruts widened into a gravel lane.

Glancing in the rearview, he didn’t spy any other headlights cutting through the night.

Chase hadn’t gotten into his car and followed.

Yet.

Maybe that was a good thing, considering how out of his mind Chase had been.

But then Rand worried. For half a heartbeat he wondered if he should pull a 180 and make certain his friend, hopped up on grass and acid, could drive himself home. Or wherever Chase was planning to go, even if it meant to break up with Harper.

Nah, this was Chase’s life.

Let him deal with it.

Rand’s conscience pricked a bit as he slowed, then turned onto the asphalt of the county road.

But Chase was his own person these days and Rand didn’t want to risk another fight. Besides, he didn’t believe Chase would go through with a half-baked plan to fake his own fuckin’ death.

No way.

No how.

Chase was just confused.

And scared.

And blowing off steam.

He wasn’t that off the rails.

Rand hit the gas again. He adjusted the radio again. The sound of Ben E. King singing “Stand by Me” filled the interior of the Jeep.

The lyrics hit hard.

He’d almost lost a friend tonight.

And all Chase had asked him to do was take care of Harper. How hard would that be? Impossible while he was in the service, but he could write her. Possibly call her. Do the best he could while Chase was . . . was what?

As he drove out of the hills and the lights of Almsville appeared through his windshield, Rand tried to convince himself that Chase wasn’t serious about disappearing.

That was just too nuts.

Right?

Well, it was his problem now. Rand had his own. He was going to fuckin’ Vietnam. So tonight, he decided, he’d celebrate freedom in the good old U.S. of A. Get shit-faced, if he had to.

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