Limbo Page #9

That's the last we would've seen of him.

That's not true!

How do you know? You were

in the same room with him twice!

You wouldn't let him!

If he thinks of you once a year,

I'd be surprised.

Every Christmas. He sent me a bike...

He sent me a watch, a dollhouse...

I sent the bike!

I sent the watch! All of it.

When you were little, I figured you have

the Easter Bunny, you have Santa Claus.

You should have a father in California

that sends you stuff.

I hated that dollhouse.

I know you did, sweetheart.

But you wouldn't let me exchange it

because it was from him.

"I was the one who found them.

It was time to clean

the scat from the pens...

...so I had the buckets and the shovels.

And then there was blood

everywhere in the snow.

All of them torn and smashed,

even my little kits.

A bear, says Papa.

Though when has a bear gone

into a half a dozen pens...

...without breaking the gates?

Mother says nothing.

But she's only a black spot these days

and refused to celebrate Christmas.

I dreamed that Fox came and was angry

for what we let happen...

...that he held me down on the snow,

and I felt his hot breath on my face...

...felt it bitter in my throat...

...and felt his ice eyes

cutting into me.

I wish...

...I wish he would come soon.

Mother...

...sleeps with me now,

and it is cramped and tense.

You would think that...

...another body under the covers

would bring warmth...

...but I awake feeling drained, like

she's pulled all the heat from me.

I'm doing the cooking now,

and my eyes...

...are always red from the smoke.

The wood is too big

for the cook stove...

...but the ax has gone missing,

and we can't break it down.

Mother says hell is a cold place.

Maybe...

...l'm the soul not of a she-wolf...

...but of a soaring bird...

...that flies south every winter.

And my heart is so sick...

...because I'm not supposed

to be here in this cold...

...this dark, this wet.

Maybe I'm like the air in this house...

...the air that doesn't move

when Papa and Mother...

...pass in silence.

Dead smoky air...

...that smells of wool and old bacon.

We threw the animals on the rocks

for the tide to deal with.

Papa cried."

They're coming!

They're coming!

Careful!

You folks picked a hell of a place

for a clambake.

We've been stranded.

Any more of you?

No, it's just us.

We were on Bobby's boat,

and he was murdered.

I'm not sure who did it.

We jumped off at night.

A couple fellows came looking,

then we hid.

Then they pulled anchor.

Damn.

How long you been here?

A week and a half.

We've been living in an old house,

holing up there at night.

And I was hoping you people

could help me.

My radio's shot.

I'm low on fuel and

heading into bad weather.

Your radio's gone?

Crapped out on me a half-hour ago.

Not even static.

I'll have to turn this thing around,

try to get out of here, send help.

Would you take my daughter?

She's sick.

I'd love to, but I can't

handle the weight.

She barely weighs a thing.

I've barely got a fighting chance

as it is. Sorry, ladies.

Here.

You wanna help me with this thing?

I got a first-aid kit in here.

No food, though.

I'm real sorry to hear about Bobby, man.

I used to party with him up in Haines.

What's the story, Jack?

What's what story?

Who sent you?

Just one more night out here, honey.

And then they'll come back and get us.

Couple of guys,

Mr. Smith and Mr. Brown.

Never seen them before, but I don't

think they're here to save the whales.

They laid some money on me to see if I

could spot three people in the boonies.

And if you saw them?

Just go back and tell them where.

So why'd you land?

I'm on the level about the radio, Joe.

I hoped to find some fishermen with

a shortwave and a cooler full of brew.

If I'd have known the deal about Bobby,

I'd have turned them in.

You have to trust me on that one.

Hang in there, ladies.

I'll be back with the cavalry tomorrow.

We're gonna make it.

Last I heard, he was flying

out of Anchorage...

...kicking square halibut

out of a cargo plane.

What's that?

Marijuana bales. You fly over

a spot on the water.

Somebody signals you with

lights or a code over the radio.

You dump them,

and people down below...

...fish them out,

take them to the next stage.

He's a drug dealer.

He's whatever pays best,

or what he can get away with.

He hit on me a couple of times

at the bar.

He seemed like a nice guy.

I'm not saying people don't like him.

I'm just saying I don't trust him.

You think he might tell those men?

I don't know.

I don't believe him about the radio.

And we've got some personal history.

Like what?

His brother drowned on a fishing boat,

and it was my fault.

He wouldn't do that to us.

He's not a killer.

How do you know?

I've looked in his eyes. I can tell

some things about a person.

Look, we don't have any choice!

You're sick. It's getting colder.

We can't stay here!

Nobody's gonna show up for a while

if it keeps up like this.

Not in a plane, not in a boat.

It's got to stop sometime.

Sooner or later.

Humour me, okay?

All right, it was worse yesterday

and the day before.

The signal fire's probably out.

As soon as it clears,

we'll get it going.

It's blank.

What is?

It's blank.

Look, after the first few entries...

The foxes haven't even

had their babies yet.

"We won't bury her on the island.

She made me promise.

She whispered it, and she hissed it...

...in my ear one night when she laid

hard beside me in bed.

'Promise me.'

She wouldn't listen to anything else.

We had come back from

looking for deer, Papa and me.

Signs at the salt lick,

but nothing to shoot at.

I was putting his rifle back

where he hid it in the shed roof...

...when I heard him cry out.

He wouldn't...

He wouldn't let me in at first...

...though I hollered

and struck at the door.

He opened up...

...when he'd got her down

on the table...

...but...

...I still saw the black mark

around her neck...

...where the cord was.

The fire had gone out...

...so our breath was showing,

Papa and me.

White long sighs of grief.

And her mouth open...

...and hair crispy to the touch.

We wrapped her in her afghan...

...and then I...

...I got the fire going

while Papa just sat.

Nothing to say.

Later, we found the note...

...and she told how the animals

were Satan's handmaidens...

...and how their sharp little eyes...

...would not give her peace.

So she killed them...

...and then threw the ax in the woods.

'We have looked into ourselves,'

she wrote...

...'and what is there condemns us.'

We'll take her off the island

come first thaw.

If Fox comes...

...padding through the trees...

...he will find us gone."

That's it?

That's it. The last entry.

Poor thing.

Who?

Little Anne Marie there.

Her mother didn't love her

enough to stick around.

She was crazy.

But still...

She left her daughter.

I would never do that.

No matter what.

I kind of look forward

to her being sick.

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