22

Camp Fawn See, Ford Lake, Minnesota

Saturday, 15 September–Sunday, 16 September

As I stare at the phone, thinking nothing productive, I hear the door of the cabin open. Lean back to look.

It’s one of Palin’s Secret Service–type guys. It’s been raining heavily for about an hour, and he’s got a baseball hat and raincoat on and no sunglasses, making him look like a different person. For a second I want to take him out.

I guess I assumed Palin went to the casino with the others, although it makes sense she wouldn’t have if she’s trying to keep people from knowing she’s in Ford.

“What’s up?” I say.

He grunts in a way that sounds like it should be accompanied by a pelvic thrust. I’m not sure why it isn’t, since there are just the two of us in here, and who’s going to believe me that this guy pelvic thrusted? But he just looks around, including behind the desk and into the office, then says into his wrist, “He’s in the registration building. It’s clear. Window green, window red. Coming out.”

As far as I can tell, both windows are closed and unobstructed.

“What does that mean, ‘window green, window red’?” I say.

He leaves.

I wait for a minute or two, but nothing happens, so I get up and go look at the books on the “BORROW ME” shelf. I’d go back to my cabin, but Violet and I haven’t discussed that since this afternoon, and I’m not sure whether it is my cabin.

I take a more or less random paperback to the couch and lie down to read it. When I’m on the second or third page the door opens, and Sarah Palin and her young relation come in.

“Dr. Lazarus! We heard you might be in here.”

“I don’t know who from. But it’s Azimuth.”

She’s smiling. As before, it’s weird to be near her. Like it probably would be with anyone you’ve seen mechanically reproduced that many times.

“Can we ask a really big favor of you?” she says.

They’re still hovering by the door. I sit up. “Sure.”

“Sandisk here needs to get her chemistry homework done. My dad was a science teacher, but I guess I kind of missed out on those genes. So we thought maybe, you know, what with you being a doctor and all… maybe you could help Sandisk with her homework.”

I’m surprised. Both that her father was a science teacher and that she believes in genetics.

Maybe I’ve misjudged the woman.

“I’m happy to try,” I say. “What are you working on?”

The girl stares miserably at the floor. “It’s just Chem One. I don’t really need help with it.”

“Don’t need it yet,” Palin says.

Feeling Sandisk’s pain, I say to her “Do you want to sit on the other couch and work, and if you need anything you can let me know?”

“Okay,” Sandisk says.

Palin takes the armchair that faces both of us from the side. It’s distracting. After a while, when it’s obvious Sandisk is doing fine with her binder and her big textbook with colored tabs stuck in it, I pretend to go back to reading, turning pages every now and then for realism.

“You know, I am a real big supporter of Israel,” Palin says, causing me to jump.

“Oh?”

“Definitely. Big supporter.”

“Huh.”^[55]

“Cause you have that tattoo,” she says.

“Right,” I say. “Why were you and the reverend so interested in my tattoos?”

“They just—it seems pretty meaningful when someone gets a symbol like that put on them permanently.”

“Like the Star of David, or the Staff of Hermes?”

“Both.” She smiles a smile I’ve seen on her before, although catching it in person is like watching Fox News on some newly immersive form of technology. It’s smug and ironic, but in a way that seems more defensive than anything else. Like if I don’t like what she’s saying, she was only kidding. It’s semi-detached, like a townhouse in Bensonhurst.

“Meaningful in what way?”

Now she’s blushing. “Well… you know.”

“No. Seriously. What?”

“I was hoping maybe I could ask you about them.”

“Go ahead.”

I can see sweat on her hairline. “Am I even making sense?” she says. “Do you even know what I’m talking about?”

“No. I’m sorry, I don’t.”

Sandisk shakes her head in resignation as she does her homework. Whether it’s me or Palin she’s exasperated with I don’t know.

“Reverend John thought you wouldn’t,” Palin says. “I just wanted to ask you is all. In case you did. I get impatient sometimes. Sorry.”

She gets up from the armchair.

“Wait,” I say. “It’s okay. Tell me what you’re talking about.”

“I should probably not be saying anything.”

“Why? Who is Reverend John?”

“He’s my pastor.”

“What’s he doing here?”

“That I definitely shouldn’t be talking about. Sandisk, honey? You ready?”

“We just got here,” Sandisk says.

“You can finish up in the cabin. You can text your friends on the sat-phone.”

Sandisk pauses for a moment in blank frustration, then starts to pack up her books and papers.

“You’re not going to tell me what’s going on?” I say.

Palin hesitates. Waits for a moment when Sandisk is distracted by packing, then bends down quickly. For a second, I think she’s going to kiss me.

“Isaiah 27:1,” she whispers. She puts a fingertip on my lips and stands back up.

“What about it?” I say. Assuming it’s not just someone’s name.

“You should look it up.”

“You can’t just tell me what it says?”

“Sandisk? What does Reverend John always say about telling people what’s in the Bible?”

“He’s like, ‘Go look it up yourself,’ ” Sandisk says.

“He says any time you can send someone to the actual text is a blessing for you and a blessing for them.”

“It sounds more like a way for him to avoid having to memorize scripture, but whatever.” Sandisk stands, tottering under her bag. Palin herds her to the door.

“You can’t paraphrase?” I say.

“I’d better not,” Palin says. “Say good night to Dr. Lazarus.”

“Good night,” Sandisk says.

They go out, and one of Palin’s Secret Service–type guys steps into place to block the doorway after them. Maybe the same one I saw earlier, maybe not.

“Fuck,” I say.

★★★

Fucking fine. I go look it up online:

In that day the LORD with his sore and great and strong sword shall punish leviathan the piercing serpent, even leviathan that crooked serpent; and he shall slay the dragon that is in the sea.

Because shit around here wasn’t crazy enough as it was.

★★★

When the party from the casino gets back I go outside toward the lights and the noise. The rain has stopped. It’s a little past three in the morning.

I’m done with the book. Liked it: it was old, from when all bestsellers were like X-rated Dynasty. At one point the heroine asked the “arbitrageur” bad boy to snort cocaine off her thigh, hoping he’d cut her with the razor.

Down by the water, Palin’s talking angrily into her satellite phone, three of her guys walling her off from the rest of us.

Violet comes up to me. “Did you hear from Rec Bill?”

“Yeah. He wants us to stay.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” I look for some sign that this is good news to her, but maybe she’s just too tired. “What’s going on? What took you guys so long?”

She shakes her head. “You are not going to believe this shit.”