Page 36 of What Doesn't Kill Her

Kellen took a breath and did her best to explain the whole situation to Rae, what had happened, where they were going. She spoke slowly and clearly and hopefully used words the child understood. When she was done, she asked, “Now do you understand what’s going on with those men and the guy I tied to the tree and the mummy’s head?”

“We’re going to get whacked,” Rae said.

Whacked.Killed?Kellen didn’t ask whether Rae knew what that meant. “Not if I have anything to do with it. But we are in trouble. So let’s talk quietly while we eat, and move out quickly.” She opened Rae’s pink bag. “Let’s see what you brought to eat.”

The good news: Rae’s bag included Rae’s lunch for camp. Carrot sticks! A turkey and Havarti sandwich! A baggie of mushed cherry tomatoes! An assortment of loose citrus Jelly Bellies with little bits of fuzz attached! And yes, string cheese! The food was a lifesaver.

The bad news: this was lunch for one little girl for one day. Every time Kellen put food in Rae’s hand, she conveyed it to her mouth and it was gone. The kid was a bottomless pit, absorbing calories as if by osmosis.

When Kellen scowled, Rae offered her half the sandwich. “Here, Mommy, you’re hangry.”

Hungry-angry. Yes, she probably was. Kellen bit into the whole wheat bread full of mayonnaise, slices of organic turkey, creamy Havarti cheese, lettuce and tomato. She wanted to moan as the flavors hit her tongue. “This is so good. Thank you, Rae. I guess we have something in common.”

“We’re ThunderFlash and LightningBug!” From somewhere in her tutu, Rae pulled the tattered stapled notebook with drawings of the two of them.

“We are!” With every bite, Kellen was feeling more like ThunderFlash. She pulled a peanut butter raisin celery stick out of the bag and bit into it. “That’s a funny tasting raisin,” she said.

“I don’t like raisins. Neither does Daddy. We use prunes.”

Kellen didn’t spit it out. But it was close. “Prunes?”

“I like prunes. I like the orange-flavored ones best. Oo! And the chocolate-covered prunes.”

“Right.” Kellen had fallen into an alternate universe. “Here. Let me put sunscreen on your face.”

“Grandma already put it on me. She thought I was going to camp.” Rae sounded triumphant.

“I thought so, too.” Kellen applied sunscreen on her own neck, face and hands, pulled her hair back and stuck it under her cap. “Do you have a hat?”

“My duck hat.”

“Does it have a bill?” Rae gave Kellen a look that made her feel stupid. “I guess it does if it’s a duck hat.” Kellen opened the bag. “I don’t suppose you remember where you put it?”

“Grandma put it away for the winter.”

“You didn’t bring your duck hat?”

“No!”

Kellen reviewed the conversation in her mind. She had asked if Rae had a hat; not if Rae had a hat with her. Taking her own hat off her head, she adjusted the back strap and fit it to Rae’s head. “Do you have crayons?”

“Are we going to color?”

“Maybe.” Kellen was trying to figure out what in Rae’s bag they could possibly use for weapons and survival. Red crayons could be melted to look like blood and fake someone out.

She looked at Rae. The whole assortment of crayons also could be used to entertain her daughter during the times they were resting. She put them, the ThunderFlash and LightningBug book, and some crumped pieces of plain paper in her bag. “We don’t need this.” Kellen held up the computer tablet.

“My tablet!”

“We can’t use your tablet out here. There’s no electricity and you didn’t bring a charger anyway.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t work.”

“If it doesn’t work, why do you have it?”

“It’s my tablet!”

Kellen found herself wanting to say, “That makes no sense.” But somehow, it did make sense—to Rae. “What’s wrong with it?”

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