In an Instant(20)

Oz doesn’t notice. Carefully he carries the remaining water back to Bingo, who eagerly laps it up.

Uncle Bob wraps his arms around Aunt Karen and stares in horror at my brother.

Oz holds the case out to Mo and demands, “More.”

Mo’s whole body shakes as she complies. Her fingers, white with cold, fill the sunglasses case with snow, and then she rips more pages from the novel and sets them ablaze.

“He’s going to be the death of us,” Aunt Karen whimpers into Uncle Bob’s chest. “He’s either going to kill us, or we’ll die because of him. Just like he hurt that dog.”

My blood goes cold at the mention of the dog. Three months ago, Oz got it in his head that Bingo was lonely and needed a friend, so he decided to find him one, a beagle puppy that belonged to a neighbor. When the neighbor came out and found Oz in his backyard, he confronted him, and Oz freaked out, squeezing the dog too tight and dislocating the poor animal’s shoulder and breaking several of his ribs.

A lawsuit was filed, the community association issued our family a warning, and my mom went ballistic. She said Oz was too much for us to handle and that it was time to start looking into alternative solutions, which sent my dad into a fever. He added childproof locks to all the doors, installed monitors in every room, and spent two weeks sleeping outside Oz’s door. It was horrible and tragic and extremely distressing.

Mo glances at Uncle Bob, then at Oz, her worry for my brother and about my brother lining her face. My own worry matches hers. Oz would never hurt anyone on purpose, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous.

Mo hands the sunglasses case to Oz, who holds it out for Bingo, and the dog drinks. Then she fills it with snow again, and Uncle Bob says, “Oz, do you think you can give me a hand out so I can go to the bathroom? Maybe Bingo needs to go as well.”

I smile at his plan. Good job, Uncle Bob. Distraction is a great way to deal with Oz.

There is a universal sigh of relief when the three leave the camper, and Mo uses extra pages of the precious book to make the flame bigger so the snow will melt quicker. She hands the next ration to Aunt Karen, who greedily gulps it down, and I pop outside to see if Uncle Bob will come up with a way to delay Oz’s return for a few extra minutes so Mo will have time to make a sip for herself.

“Finn,” Oz says, noticing my body near the tire. Snow has drifted and fallen over my body, so I am completely buried except for my face.

“She’s sleeping,” Uncle Bob says, hopping around on his uninjured foot to ward off the cold, his hands jammed in his pockets and his chin buried in his coat.

Oz squints. My brother is not smart, but he is strangely perceptive, and lying to him is usually not a good idea. His face gets heavy, and his bottom lip pushes forward as his head shakes back and forth. “My Finn,” he says, causing my heart to swell. Then he does something extraordinary. Without a word, he walks to where I am, kneels beside me, and buries my face with snow. “Good night, Finn,” he says when he is done.

When he stands, Uncle Bob says, “Oz, I’m worried,” and something in his tone makes my hair stand on end.

Oz tilts his head.

“Your mom’s been gone a long time. I’m concerned she might have gotten lost.”

Oz’s brow furrows, and my pulse pounds.

“I think someone should go and look for her,” Uncle Bob says.

Oz nods.

“I would go,” Uncle Bob says, “but my ankle’s busted pretty bad.”

I shake my head, disbelief making my panic slow.

“I could go,” Oz volunteers enthusiastically, as if the idea is brilliant.

NO! I put myself between them, directly in front of Uncle Bob so my nose is nearly touching his. Don’t do this.

“You think you could find her?” Uncle Bob says, his brow lifting as if impressed by Oz’s thinking.

“Bingo could go with me,” Oz says. “He can find anyone. When Finn and I play hide-and-seek, Bingo always finds her, and Finn is really good at that game.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Please, I beg. Please, Uncle Bob, think about what you are doing.

“If Bingo went with you,” Uncle Bob goes on, “then he would also be able to help you and your mom find your way back.”

I turn to Oz. He is nodding seriously, his face mimicking my father’s when my dad is having a serious, manly conversation.

Mo, help, I cry.

But Mo is oblivious. She is inside, melting water as quickly as she can and hoping Oz won’t come back too soon.

“Before you go,” Uncle Bob says, “I have an offer to make you.”

Oz, still wearing my father’s expression, nods again, and my panic turns cold. I’m unable to imagine how things can get worse yet certain they are about to.

“You and Bingo are going to need food so you’ll be strong as you search for your mom.”

“I’m hungry,” Oz says.

“Exactly. So here’s the deal. I have two packages of crackers.” Uncle Bob pulls the cellophane-wrapped saltines that were in Aunt Karen’s purse from his pocket. “I’ll trade you these for your gloves.”

I don’t bother pleading again. All I can do is stare in horrified disbelief as Oz takes the deal without a second of hesitation, whipping off his gloves and handing them to Uncle Bob as he swipes the crackers like he just made the world’s greatest trade.