Page 25 of It Happened on the Lake

R and 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—”

“You can! And you will!” Chase was insistent as a breath of cold wind swooped through the hills. “You’re leaving soon, right? This week? So, as far as we’re both concerned, this conversation never happened. Got it?”

“Got it,” Rand said as Chase dug into his pocket again and came up with a pack of Camel straights.

“Good.” Chase plucked out a cigarette and offered Rand the pack.

Rand held up a hand and shook his head.

Chase lit up and drew deep as he pocketed the pack and his lighter. “So, just to be clear,” he said, in a cloud of smoke. “What’re you going to do if I vanish?”

“Jesus, Chase, you’re not serious.”

“I am.” Chase’s voice was low.

“Then, nothing.” This wasn’t happening. The conversation had just gotten way too weird.

“And what’re you gonna say?” Chase prompted as the owl hooted again.

“Nothin’. Nada.”

“Swear?” Chase persisted.

“I swear,” Rand said, knowing Chase wasn’t going to go through with his nutso, drug-induced plan.

“Good.” He picked a bit of tobacco from his tongue. “But you have to do something for me, okay?” Chase’s voice was low. Somber.

“What?” Rand was wary.

“You have to take care of Harper.”

What was this? No. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re all over the place, dude. First you want her to get pregnant so you can marry her, then you’re going to break up with her, then you love her, then . . .”

“I don’t know, man!” Chase said and closed his eyes as if he were in pain. “I don’t fuckin’ know!” He took a long drag on his smoke, then flicked the butt into the river, the red tip arcing in the night before disappearing far below. “You’ll do it, right?”

Rand didn’t answer, and suddenly Chase snagged Rand by the neck of his jacket, strong fingers twisting the fabric as he pressed his face nose-to-nose with Rand.

“Just say you’ll fuckin’ take care of her!

” he hissed, smoky breath seeping from his suddenly tight lips.

From deep in their sockets, his eyes reflected the thin moonlight.

Rand’s fists balled. This was crazy. “You’re what? Leaving? Disappearing, and you want me to take care of Harper? What about Levi? Can’t he do it?”

“Not Levi!” Chase spat out.

“He’s your brother—”

“ Not Levi!” Chase repeated, his lips pulled back in anger, his teeth flashing. “Goddamn it, not Levi. He’s a prick!” he said vehemently. Rand knew there was a fierce rivalry between the brothers but hadn’t realized how deep it ran.

“Levi can’t be trusted,” Chase insisted. “It’s got to be you!” He jerked on Rand’s collar, almost pulling Rand off his feet.

Just like that, the scent of a fight crackled through the air.

Chase glared at Rand for a second. He was so close Rand smelled Chase’s sweat, mingling with the cigarette smoke.

In the moonlight, Rand saw the sheen of perspiration on his friend’s face and noticed that his eyes were almost black, his pupils dilated to the point of obscuring most of the blue.

On this near-freezing night when his own breath was fogging, Chase was sweating.

“You son of a bitch, you take care of her!” Chase ordered. Then, almost dismissively, “Shit, you’re half in love with her already!”

Rand was stunned at how Chase had read his emotions. He’d thought he’d been so good at hiding how he felt about Harper.

Apparently not. And now Chase sounded desperate. His fingers clenched more tightly over Rand’s jacket, and every muscle in Rand’s body tensed. His own hands curled into fists. He was ready for a fight.

“Do it! Swear it, man!” Chase shook the bunched jacket, yanking Rand even closer. The air crackled between them. “Swear to me that you’ll take care of her!”

“I’m leaving! Goin’ to fuckin’ ’Nam.” Rand’s own temper seethed, barely in check.

“Swear it!”

“She won’t like it.”

“Who the fuck cares?” Another shake, this time Rand was pulled off his feet, his hat slipping off.

Rand saw red.

His military training kicked in.

He caught the offensive wrist with one hand. Ready to swing with the other. “Let go of me,” he ordered through lips that barely moved. Anger blistered through him, every muscle tense, ready to explode.

“Just promise.”

“Let go!” Rand drew his arm back, fist cocked.

“Damn it—”

Rand swung.

Hard.

Bam!

His fist smashed into Chase’s jaw with a loud crunch.

Pain burst through his knuckles.

Chase’s knees buckled.

He let out a pained groan.

As he crumpled, his fingers loosened, releasing his grip on Rand’s jacket.

As his feet hit the ground, Rand stumbled backward. His high-tops slipped at the edge of the ravine, kicking out gravel that tumbled over the edge, raining into the black chasm and the river far below.

Shit!

He teetered for a second.

Falling backward.

No!

In desperation, he flung his body forward, hitting the ground hard.

His fingers dug into the wet earth, finding weeds and shards of gravel.

The night seemed to close in on him.

Nearby, Chase, still stunned, was struggling to a sitting position.

Breathing raggedly, he propped his back against a blackened stump.

“Fuck.” Rubbing his jaw, he focused on Rand still gasping for breath at the chasm’s edge.

“You little cocksucker.” Zeroing in on Rand, he forced himself to his feet, swaying slightly.

Even in the weak moonlight, Rand saw that Chase’s face was twisted into a mask of rage, his lips pulled back, nostrils flared.

Oh shit.

This wasn’t over.

Rand rolled over, forcing himself upright. To the balls of his feet. In fighting position. Ready to lunge.

If he had to.

“Chase,” he warned. “Let’s . . . let’s not do this, okay?

” Even though his blood thundered in his temples, nearly drowning out the roar of the river, and he knew that this fight was no answer, he wanted to hit Chase again.

To pound some sense into him. To make him realize what he was doing to Harper.

To wise him up to the fact that he was talking about options when Rand had none. To end this. Now.

Too late.

Head down and bellowing, Chase rushed him like a bull. He ran straight at Rand, ready to tear him from limb to limb.

“Fuck you!” Rand sidestepped the tackle.

Chase flew past.

Too late Rand realized his mistake.

Too late, Chase caught sight of the edge of the ravine.

Frantically, he tried to put on the brakes. “No! Shit! Rand!” The ground crumbled beneath his feet.

He tumbled forward.

Scrabbled wildly in the air.

No!

Rand threw himself at Chase and caught him by one arm. “You fucker,” he said through clenched teeth, his hand on fire.

Pain screamed up his arm to his shoulder. For a split mind-bending second, he considered letting go. Just releasing his best friend and letting Chase drop into the blackness. In a heartbeat he remembered how Chase used and abused all of his relationships, including Harper.

He caught a glimpse of Chase’s face, his features distorted by panic. “Son of a bitch,” he said, “God, Rand, help me!”

Chase didn’t deserve any kindness. Not after using and abusing so many people. But this—to let him drop into the roiling, frigid waters of the river? To be swallowed and dragged by the current to drown? No.

“Help me,” Chase pled. “Jesus, Rand, help me!”

Pushing past the agony in his hand, Rand set his heels into the mud, trying not to be dragged over the edge by the weight of his heavy friend. Gritting his teeth, Rand pulled, every muscle in his back and shoulders straining, beads of sweat forming on his face from the painful effort.

Chase was swinging slightly, trying to get footing on the cliff face, clawing at the dirt with his free hand.

Rand strained, certain his own tendons would rip, his muscles tear. Pain tore through his arm and shoulder as he tried to save his friend.

Using all his strength, Rand pulled. Sweat poured off his forehead and ran down his arm. His grip was slick. His hand throbbing. His muscles screaming. His back bowing with the pressure. “Climb!” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “Climb, you son of a bitch.”

Chase scraped at the dirt, sending rocks flying, frantically, catching hold of roots with his free hand, his feet finding something hard it seemed because suddenly the tension eased a bit.

With all of his strength, Rand threw his back into the task at hand. He leaned hard, straining, his shoulder aching to the point he thought his arm might wrench from its socket. “Come on, come on,” he ordered through a locked jaw.

He saw the crown of Chase’s head. Rand inched backward, afraid at any second his feet might slip.

But all of a sudden Chase was able to help. He quit swinging, got some sort of purchase. He flung his hand over the edge and grabbed hold of a rock. With a roar, he pulled his shoulder over the ledge and as Rand dragged him, Chase was able to pull himself away from the overhang.

Finally Rand released him. Chase crawled forward, then fell onto the wet ground beside Rand, the long fringe of his jacket slapping Rand in the face as he landed.