Free 68 Knots by Michael Robert Evans

were tempting with their embroidered logos on the front. The chinos looked nice with their crisp creases. The windbreakers seemed useful with their thin hoods zipped into their collars. But this store had nothing from his part of Joy’s list. He dug the paper out of his jeans pocket:
    â€”Windproof safety matches
    â€”Kerosene
    â€”Spatula
    â€”Woolite
    â€”Sponges (large)
    â€”1 large country ham
    â€”20 lbs. potatoes
    â€”Small gasoline generator
    â€”10 gals. gasoline
    He could see that none of these items would be available in this store, and Arthur guessed that few of the shops in this town would offer such mundane, real-world items. After this woolen-shop visit, he would try to find a hardware store and then a basic supermarket.
    â€œWhat do you think?” Marietta asked.
    Arthur looked up—and fell speechless. Marietta wore the cashmere well, its flattering cut making her body all the more attractive. She smiled.
    â€œWell?” she urged.
    â€œIt’s great,” Arthur said, blinking his hazel eyes. “It’s really great. We should figure out some way to buy it for you someday. Because it looks good on you. I mean, it looks
really
good.”
    Marietta turned around slowly, like a model on a runway. “I’m glad you like it,” she said softly.
    Almost three hours later, the crew had gathered on the side street once again. Arthur had been waiting for nearly sixty minutes, and he was angry that the crew was failing to follow orders so completely. When at last everyone arrived, they were carrying dozens of large paper and plastic bags—most bearing designer logos on their sides.
    â€œYou didn’t get the
bread
?” Arthur asked BillFi.
    â€œSorry,” BillFi said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “We ran out of money. Sorry. We each got a new sleeping bag, ’cause the ones we’re using are really old and gross, and then—”
    â€œAnd I bought some really good scotch,” Logan said. “Well, I got some old guy to buy it for us—only had to give him twenty bucks. I do that all the time at home. We got
five
bottles. And six bottles of French red wine. That rum was getting pretty boring.”
    Arthur shook his head. “I don’t believe this! How are we going to eat without bread? Joy—you were going to get pasta and some stuff for making soups. You got
that
, didn’t you?”
    Joy looked sheepish, her round face cast downward. “Well, we got the pasta,” she said quietly. “But then we went into a shop that sells exotic herbs and things, and we got some great stuff. Maybe the best pesto sauce I have ever tasted. And some Szechwan pepper that is really hot and really good. And some—”
    â€œDid
anyone
get what they were supposed to get?” Arthur asked in his lowest voice.
    Everyone was silent. In the bags on the muddy ground around them were cotton turtlenecks (“They were sixty percent off!”), an inlaid mahogany chess set (“We have to have
something
to do at night!”), a battery-powered CD player with twelve discs (“We can’t go all summer without music!”), three dozen novels, four Gore-Tex raincoats, a harmonica, two fishing rods, eight copies of the King James version of the Bible, and an impressive assembly of other odds and ends—very few of which were edible. Jesse had a paperback copy of
Moby Dick
, which he tucked into his jeans pocket. (“It’s about a whale,” he explained unapologetically. “I like whales.”) Logan had a pewter flask and a comic book.
    And the money was nearly gone.
    â€œThis is great,” Arthur shouted. “This is really great! We can listen to music, play chess, dress beautifully, and starve to death!” He ran a hand through his hair and tried to thinkof something powerful to say. Something with authority. Something with teeth. He had to show this crew that when he gave orders, he meant