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Chapter XIII
Ellie dragged herself reluctantly away from the bathroom stall. She had expected to feel better after losing her stomach, but her head was still spinning wildly and she had been dry heaving now for almost a half hour. The violent taste in her mouth did nothing to assuage her discomfort, but neither did the prospect of getting in a car for the lengthy drive out to Snakewater.
Her weak knees hobbled over to the sink and she allowed them to buckle as she placed her hands heavily on the porcelain counter. With eyes shut, she groped for the knob, which she turned as far as it could go. Water struck the bottom of the sink hard enough to rebound onto her blouse, but Ellie could care less. She cupped some of it into her hand and splashed it across her face, and then rinsed her mouth.
“Are you alright, sweetheart?” a comforting voice asked, somewhere in the darkness of Ellie’s world.
For a moment, Ellie imagined it was Alan, come to save her from her nightmares and fears. But a quick glance at the speaker proved that the voice belonged only to an elderly lady in a pink top and awful skin-tight sweatpants. She looked very concerned.
“I’m fine,” Ellie managed.
“Oh, honey, the first step in getting better is admitting you have a problem,” the old woman said sagely, moving forward and taking Ellie’s, arm keeping her steady. “Trust me on that.”
“Thanks,” Ellie said. She couldn’t help but notice the uncertainty both in her voice and in her stance.
“Have a problem riding in planes?” her new companion asked.
Ellie didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now. Not with this stranger. Her head spinning, Ellie simply nodded her head.
“Well, don’t you worry about that.” The old woman kept a supportive grip on Ellie. “You just need to sit down for a little while.”
“Can’t,” Ellie said, her eyes screwed shut against the wave of nausea that slammed against her. “Gotta get out to Snakewater.”
“What’s the hurry? Someone sick, dying?” She began leading Ellie out of the bathroom and back into the terminal.
Ellie shook her head, realizing too late it would have been easier on her if she’d had lied.
“Oh, well, then it can wait, dear.”
“Wait,” Ellie repeated, sticking her arm out in front of the woman. “Wait. My bags.” Her backpack and duffel were sitting where she’d haphazardly thrown them next to the stall.
“I’ll get those in a second,” said the woman. She leaned Ellie against the tiled wall and made her way back for the bags. Ellie tried to stop her, but the best she managed was a half-hearted plea:
“No, don’t, you have enough to carry, ma’am.”
“Nonsense, sweetheart,” the woman said, hoisting up her bags, “I was a pretty strapping bitch in my heyday, and I still got a little bit left inside the flab.” Straining, she tapped her chest with a fist.
Now bogged down with an immense load—her own three bags plus Ellie’s—the woman still somehow led Ellie out onto one of the airport benches without tottering over with the weight.
“Whew!” she exclaimed when she finally dropped it all down and collapsed onto the seat next to Ellie. “That was all that was left for a long time.”
Ellie chuckled a little bit, more to please her benefactor than out of actual mirth. She leaned back and tried to control her erratic breathing, but the prospect of the long drive ahead of her didn’t make anything any better.
“Where you heading to again, honey?” the woman asked, as if reading her mind.
Ellie sighed. “Snakewater.”
“Snakewater?” the woman cried. “That’s a long drive, uh—”
“Ellie,” she offered.
“Ellie, well, good to meet you, Ellie, call me Rita, and begging your pardon, but Snakewater? Why not just land out at Choteau? Or Obie?”
“It was a last minute kind of
thing,” Ellie breathed. “
“You told me there was no rush,” Rita said imploringly.
Ellie nodded her head, suddenly wondering the exact same thing. What had the rush been? It wasn’t like Alan was going anywhere. He had made it quite clear that he didn’t want to budge an inch from the trailer. What made her come out here so quickly, without so much as planning a few hours ahead?
“I don’t know why I rushed,” Ellie said, confused, looking up into Rita’s faded eyes. Her nausea forgotten, Ellie found her brain struggling to reign in her emotions, trying to place a rationale behind her behavior, but it was in vain. Nothing logical fit. She had done exactly the opposite of what she’d been taught: to rationalize, to observe objectively. She had let her feelings get the best of her.
And now she was fighting nausea in an airport four hours away from where she wanted to be, talking to a woman named Rita, who was as nosy as they came. What had she been thinking? She could have waited a week or so for a plane going to Choteau, and then she’d only have had to drive two hours out to Snakewater.
And now I’m fucked, she thought. I’ve really fucked myself.
“I don’t know why,” she repeated aloud, looking at the ground as if it had just slapped her.
Rita had adopted a shrewd look when Ellie looked back up. “Honey, this wouldn’t be for love, would it?”
Ellie was taken aback. How the hell? “No.”
“No?” Rita’s eyes seemed to peer into her lie.
“Not that kind of love, no,” Ellie bit out defensively. “He’s my friend. I care about him. I came to sort him out, he’s being unreasonable.”
Rita arched a brow. “Where you from, Miss Ellie?”
“D.C.,” Ellie said hesitantly.
“D.C.,” Rita hummed. She was silent for a few moments, then she said, “Well, some would say you’d need reason before trying to reason with someone else.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I’m calling you a liar. There ain’t a single person in this world who’d hop on a plane—without thinking—just for someone they call a ‘friend.’ Especially if there’s no rush.” Rita chortled unpleasantly. “Please, this man is no more a friend to you than to me.”
Ellie sighed heavily, and a flood of cold brought the unwelcome sensations back. “Look, uh, Rita, I’d love to stick around and chat—”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“—but I really have to get a move on. It’s a long ride to Snakewater. I should get started now.”
Rita fussed over her a few minutes more, asking if she could talk to the rental company for her, or if she could bring Ellie something to eat, or if Ellie was sure she didn’t want to talk about her problems, but finally Ellie managed to detach herself from Rita’s overwhelming presence and make her way to a service desk.
Half-an-hour later, she stood outside the terminal, waiting for the rental car guys to bring up the Jeep she’d decided on. Her upset stomach had transformed into a headache following a prolonged and frustrating conversation with the clerk, but she’d stop at the nearest gas station for some ibuprofen before heading out for Snakewater and she’d be fine.
It didn’t take long for the young, red-faced teen to bring up the Wrangler, which was in far better condition than Ellie had expected. She climbed in, thanked the boy with a ten dollar tip (her smallest bill) and drove for the outskirts.
The quick stop at the gas station left her with an empty bladder, a bottle of green tea and a packet of pills. She settled herself into the seat and found one of the local country stations (of which there were four, just like in Snakewater), then put the Jeep in gear.
She’d taken the route north only
once before and that had been with Alan, but she was fairly confident she could
find her way to Snakewater on her own, even though
the day was waning and she probably only had an hour or so left of light. Her
path began with US 87 out of
She had enjoyed the long trips she and Alan would frequently have to make for conferences and the like. Alan had always complained about them, but Ellie found them relaxing and, even if she wasn’t going anywhere important, it still made her feel as if she were broadening her horizons somehow.
The sun watched her drive north for
a little even while it lowered itself to bed in the west. Soon enough, the
sky’s reddened atmosphere had developed what looked like a creeping bruise,
making its way from out of the east. Ellie decided to turn off the air
conditioning and roll down the windows, allowing the chilling
It wasn’t until the tear began
falling down her cheek, blasting back toward her hair, that she realized how
much she had missed the state. The last time she’d been in
There was something primal about
A twist of sadness, as if someone
were making her feel guilty about something, burned her cheeks, and they were
not cooled by
This thread of thought haunted her
for some time afterwards, following her passed the county limits into
They were becoming fewer as time went on, prompting a feeling of isolation to steal over her, but she welcomed it. She couldn’t remember the last time that she had taken this kind of time to herself. Her travels usually included either Dana or, less often, her husband, so she had become accustomed to being consistently in someone’s company, even when she was off around the country. This, inevitably, put her back on the thoughts of sacrifices she’d made for D.C. and Mark.
She sat in her own wallow for an even longer spell this time, half-listening to country songs she hadn’t heard in years: Mark preferred jazz, alternative and soft rock, all of which she had come to like. But her specific loves of music stemmed from her time with Alan and those would always be her favorites, always.
The rest of the journey was made in a blur. As she neared Snakewater, she realized the four hours had melted, and though she felt every minute of the trip, she could not remember once feeling bored or restless. The trip had been smooth: no doubling back, no missing a turn-off. Even though she had only taken the way once, and with Alan at the wheel, Ellie seemed to innately know which road to take, merely by glancing at the signs. She supposed that she just had a great memory.
But it was that same memory that had continued to torment her as semi-familiar sights blew by her windows in darkness, reminding her of a time that had died, leaving nothing but the fossilized remains of pain in her heart.
And when she saw the first sign acknowledging Snakewater’s existence, Ellie Sattler—Degler—burst from her stupor with a tiny cry of something akin to surprise. She was almost there. What would she say? What would he say? Would he look terrible? Would he be okay? Would she have to stay on a little while to nurse him back to health? Would she be okay? Would she look alright? She was seeing him for the first time in years, she should at least look presentable. But would Alan care? Would he be glad to see her? Or would he be angry? He must have seen this coming! She wasn’t just going to give up, he’d know that! He wouldn’t be angry! Would he? Maybe, she was showing up at rather a late hour. What if he was sleeping and she woke him? What if…?
Hundreds—maybe thousands—of these thoughts crashed into her skull at once, making her almost wince with the pain of it. Her heart seemed to glow with a type of harmful radiation, which weakened her mind and her body. She suddenly realized the silliness of what she was doing, here, in the middle of a state thousands of miles away from her husband, trying to bring her ex-boyfriend back with her, as if he were some sort of treasure to be found.
She closed her eyes to clear her
mind (an exercise in futility) long enough to comprehend the danger of such an
action, and she opened them again to see a sign announcing Snakewater’s
proximity. Her heart threatened cessation, and before she knew it she was in
the loosely defined city limits. And then she was passing the gas station that used
to house a Dominoes Pizza place. She wondered vaguely if her friend Yvonne
still worked there. But she did not bother to stop and inquire of Alan as it
was nearing
There wasn’t much to do in the
And then she was off down sandy,
bumpy paths (for they could not even be considered in the same vein as roads)
that led out to the numerous, abandoned dig sites that had been at the height
of popularity before the
Each rock that made the Jeep bounce
seemed to violently remind her that Grant was not the only victim of
Her thoughts drifted in this strain
for sometime, allowing her aggressive feelings of resentment towards
Right off this path was where they’d found the hadrosaur nest that made Alan famous! And up on that ridge was where we leaned over the baby raptor skeleton! The trike skull we found in the side of that rock face was in great shape, wasn’t it?
And then she saw the sloping hill, a
hill she had climbed and descended more times than she could count. At the top
of that incline was where they’d found a full-sized Velociraptor antirrhopus, one of the first of its
kind to be discovered. It was also the last skeleton they’d uncovered before
And at the base of the hill, there stood a decrepit old trailer, whose make and model were so long forgotten, a victim of that unstoppable time, that even Alan couldn’t have identified it. It was in exactly the same spot it had been on that fateful day in 1993. It seemed to have never moved.
She had no memory of braking, or of putting the Jeep in park. No memory of turning the key and shutting down the engine. No memory of getting out or coughing on the dust she had sent up. When she would look back on that moment, all she would be able to recall was the door to the trailer coming closer.
And then her hand was in a fist, knocking softly on the door. She was taken aback, her heart racing wildly, when the door opened…
…when her mind went numb when she realized there was no one there…
…when she became confused as she picked up a crumbled piece of bright white paper next to the door…
…when her heart broke when she read
what the business card of one Sean Tanner said.