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Tean got in the car.
They drove back toward Auburn and Santaland in silence, with only the thrum of the tires and the grayish brilliance of the headlights carving tunnels in the darkness. They found a Mr. Fuel and bought a disposable cell phone with cash, and Jem called in Una’s body when they were driving again.
“How bad is your ankle?” Tean finally asked when they reached the city limits. Pole-sheds sprang up. A U-Haul lot. The Auburn Electric Co-op. A Cenex, its windows papered over with ads for disposable vapes. In the parking lot, a girl in a sports bra and Daisy Dukes was jamming the gas nozzle into a tank over and over again with rhythmic enthusiasm. Everything lay under a dirty shroud of light pollution. Everything looked like a movie set.
“Not bad.”
“I want to take a look at it.”
Jem made a noise that could have meant anything.
“You shouldn’t be driving,” Tean said. “Pull over and I’ll drive.”
“Tean, I twisted my ankle. I didn’t have a foot amputated.” They drove another quarter mile in the ashen-orange darkness. “I’m sorry, by the way.”
“What?”
“I know you’re disappointed in me because we left her. Because I said we should leave her. I know that’s—that’s not what you would have done.”
A little laugh escaped Tean. “It is what I did.”
“You know what I mean.”
They drove some more. Tean removed his glasses, and as they drove out of the city, Auburn slid away behind them like a greasy smear. Darkness came after.
“I’m not disappointed in you. I’m—I’m angry. At this whole situation. At the incompetence and the idiocy and the hatefulness. It’s horrible. And it’s not fair, not to any of us, least of all Una and Missy. And it’s not right.”
Jem reached over and took his hand.
“Do you know that the Lake of the Ozarks is man-made?” Tean asked.
Jem shook his head, an ember of a smile glowing in his expression. “Is this headed where I think it’s headed?”
“There were towns down there. Farms. Homes. And they dammed it up and flooded it. I mean, in theory, it was to create hydroelectric power, but people knew what they were doing. They knew they were creating valuable waterfront property. They knew they were creating—I don’t know, a recreational area.”
“Disney World.”
Tean huffed a laugh in spite of himself. “A little. Yeah. And they didn’t care. They didn’t care about the people who were forced to relocate. They didn’t care about the animals who would die, or the habitats destroyed, or any of it.”
“How much time did you spend reading about this before we came?”
“And now, fifteen million people come every year.”
“Was this just for cocktail party stories, like the guy who died on the can? Or was there something else going on?”
“And they use a million gallons of gasoline every day, Jem. Every day. That’s as much gas as ten thousand cars.”
“But,” Jem said, lips quirking, “they’re having fun, and part of being human is living a full, happy existence. And somebody would have used that gas anyway.”
“They’re not all having fun. On average, ten people die every year.”
“They died doing what they love.”
“I doubt that, since they primarily died from drowning.”
“Up until then, I mean. Although I guess some people might love drowning.”
“Ten deaths. That’s how many people die each year from shark attacks. Only these people aren’t dying from shark attacks. They’re dying because they’re drunk and they’re stupid and they’re—they’re fucking around in this fucking lake that was never supposed to be here.”
