Alice

Savoring the water trickling over her lips, the film on her teeth is gritty that has her wishing she had her toothbrush. It is the little things like these that reminds her that life is brutal. Handing the canteen back to the man, he says to her, “Cotton should be showing up soon, Jimmy too. Best you be quiet when they do.”

It is out of her mouth before she can stop herself. “What do they call you?”

He gives her an unwavering stare for a long moment before he says, “Mr. Jones. What’s yours?”

“Alice.”

He turns away then to where she follows after his stare which has her seeing the man named Cotton walking this way with an armload of wood. It is only when he is close to them that she sees the skinned rabbit skewered upon a held stick.

Walking up to the fire, and after letting go of what carried, Cotton questions the twin bundles of plastic wrapped firewood, “Where did these come from?”

Mr. Jones points a finger, “From that campsite over there.”

Cotton shifts his eyes in taking in all there is to see before coming around to say to Mr. Jones, “Jimmy’s down by the creek.” With that said, Cotton goes about doing what needs to be done before a nice hunk of flesh is above the flames. Watching him, she wants to be excited about putting something in her gut but until that time comes, all she can do is wait.