Introduction

The breeze is atypically brisk for a summer evening as it traveled through the decrepit campsite near Lake Hermount. Whistling burrowed through the cabins as the punctures of the old oak cracked with their age showing gaps in what once stood as a pinnacle in the working-class vacation. Rafts strapped to docks bobbed up and down with the roughness of the water outside of these decaying husks. These boats are small and equipped with nothing more than small trolling motors while a few of them have oars either in the vessel or scattered about the dock. Lamps lit haphazardly along the coast with a consistently dependent on the level of soberness of the caretaker. Flickers that are as quick to give someone light as they are to blind them in darkness. However, there is a singular light holding steady against the elements across the water.

She was not concerned with the wind, nor with the stump she was sitting on. The appearance of which looked like a thousand years under the siege by warring factions of termites. The fire in front of her is the only object in focus that is worthwhile. One of the few connections to nature that she can recognize. As the flames of her campfire rippled, she drew the jacket tighter around her body. It was only these moments, pure isolation, that she felt at complete peace. Lines under the eyes and drooped shoulders indicated a lack of rest that suited students of her age. However, the restlessness was not due to over studying or long nights of progression social mingling. Drinking maintained an overwhelming presence though as she sat there taking occasional drinks from a flask that laid on the ground beside her. The weary look of her eyes did not take away from the stark and decisive nature in which her pupils darted around the environment, taking in every leaf, wave, and twig while always reverting back to the fire. Suddenly, there was an unwanted burst of sound coming into the shore.

“ABBY! SIT YOUR ASS DOWN! I CAN’T SEE WHERE I’M GOING!”

Looking up from her spot with as much distain as she could muster, Jacqueline saw a small boat speeding into one of the desolate docks. The individual at the helm appeared as a headstrong young man with a beard that was prominent even in the low light of the area. He was swerving to an extent that Jacqueline thought they were more likely to ram right into the coast than get anywhere close to the dock. A lady, now seen sitting grumpily in the front of the skiff, was trying to center herself while being tossed around the bench. This couple must have been out drinking in the middle of the lake, which would explain the difficulties they were having in the approach. Something did not make sense. Where is this guy’s truck and trailer? She could only see her black Ford in the distance parked in front of a group of trees and the rest of the lot was empty besides a couple of cats fighting over a dead raven. There was a loud crack and then a grinding as the boat nailed the front of the dock and slowly worked its way down the side. The guy stood up and jumped to the dock.

“You dumb bitch! You were supposed to guide me in not just sit there looking like a fucking idiot!”

“You told me to sit down!”

This domestic quarrel was of little to no interest to Jacqueline. She was more concerned with the logistic of how they got a boat in the water without a trailer. The boat was new enough that it was not one of the regulars kept on the dock permanently and the engine was way too big to be anything rented from the recreation center up the road. The answer became clearer and clearer when she saw the confusion in the guy’s face after walking to the end of the dock.

“Wrong end of this shithole” the guy said to himself as he scratched is beard and headed back to the boat.

Once he was in a lighted area, the attitude and incompetence started making more sense to Jacqueline. He was wearing a loose fitting expensive button up shirt with a pin having the image of a man blowing into a golden horn attached to the right chest pocket. He was a member of the Church so undoubtedly this sea voyage was sanctioned by the Almighty. How did he get away with having that beard? It was one of the highest hygiene-oriented sins against the Prophet. Jacqueline concluded that he must have recently come back from a mission in some foreign land where the watchful eye of the Prophet was not consistently upon him.

His friend was walking towards him after finally getting her footing enough to jump from the boat to the dock. Without hesitation, he backhanded her across the face as soon as they were in reach of one another knocking her on the planks of the dock. As he passed her, there was a swift kick into her ribs that immediately force Abby to vomit all over the dock.

Jacqueline was stoking the fire when she heard the connection of hit and the eruption. Immediately, she snapped her attention to the women laying down. There was no movement. He hobbled back to the skiff and in his attempt to get back into the boat shouted:

“Come on Abby! Get your fat ass back into the boat”

There was still no movement from the woman laying on the dock. The man seemed to be having issues stabilizing himself enough to make the small hop into the boat. Jacqueline could now smell the beer coming off both from the dock. She hated beer. It was a waste of time with so many liquors in the world to get to a same state quicker that she never bothered herself with it. Once situated in the rear of the boat, he continued shouting at the motionless body on the dock to get in the boat. Soon the woman came back to her senses and slowly started to lift herself up. The engine was not starting after hitting the trigger multiple times. With continuous cussing under his breath and by the light of the dock lantern, he opened the head of the motor and started fiddling with the insides. He did not get far in this endeavor.

“Stay down”

The woman did as she was told and watched as Jacqueline took up one of the loose oars scattered on the dock. In one smooth motion, she wound up and connected with the back of the man head with the follow through. Impact and force intuitions were second nature to Jacqueline so the thin line between never waking up again and having one hell of a morning tomorrow was accounted for. He fell overtop of the engine and slid back into the body of the skiff. Jacqueline threw the oar into the skiff and walked back to Abby who was now finding her feet and shakily standing up.

“What did you do to my husband!?”

“He will wake in a couple hours. I would make sure that skiff does not get blown out to open water. If it tips over, your husband will be meeting his maker a bit earlier then he probably has planned. Are you alright?”

At this point, she was standing as tall as she ever did and walked straight up to me.

“He better be alright! Maybe if you had someone to beat you every once and while, that temper of yours would be more in check! Get the hell out of here whore!”

The smell of vomit reeked from her teeth as she screamed these words. Jacqueline was not phased by any of this and simply tipped her hat and walked off the dock. Leaving Abby to stumble over to her husband and attempt to nurse him back to consciousness.

After dowsing the fire with a bucket kept by the stump, she headed back to the truck. She knew better than this and that was the burden that she bares. The culture and gender positions were very clear in Hermount and this exact situation was being played over and over in every household within reach of the city. Especially in her academic position, Jacqueline knew how the situation would play out and how little it would be appreciated. It was never about appreciation for Jacqueline. The prevention of death was her only motivation in this case, while knowing that a brutal death will still be likely in Abby’s future.

Arriving back at her truck, Jacqueline took a glace back at the scene. Abby was unsuccessful so far in getting her husband to sit up in the boat. Caressing his face in one hand and holding a phone in the other, Jacqueline wondered if she would be getting a visit from the Church authorities within the week. She would have preferred a visit from the police, but that was not how things were done in Hermount.