“I wasn’t meant to be free, Donny,” said Joyce as she watched him ruminate there to the sound of the awakened night birds and one foghorn blowing on the river. You could see she didn’t even recognize the boots she had bought him, and he realized how very long ago that had been. “I’m a teacher, remember. A college professor. My best work was done inside. First time it ever felt authentically meaningful.”

He looked at her. You could see she meant it. You could also see the pain in her eyes. The memory of the things they had done to her while she was their captive, and the worse things they had done to others.

“And I’m still here, Donny,” she said. “I’m alive.”

She was smiling, but you could see the anger that hid behind the smile. Maybe it was the way her teeth looked momentarily feral.

“I’m glad for that, Joyce,” said Donny. “I honestly wasn’t sure.”

“I’ve learned to keep a low profile,” she said. “Took me long enough.”

They both laughed.

“Don’t feel sorry for me, Donny. I’m happy. For real. I have finally found a place I’m comfortable. A way to maintain the balance.”

“Home?”

She nodded, in a noncommittal way. “Something like that. Sure.”

“This is a good spot,” said Donny, looking around. “What happened to the animals?”

“Some are still around,” said Joyce. “The ones that have become too much like us, and no longer know how to be free.”

Donny considered that. “What about the other ones?”

She just smiled.

Donny looked back toward the swamp from which he came. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it was there. It had always been there, even when they drained it.

“Do you know how to be free, Donny?”

“Nope.”

She laughed. And then she leaned forward, and took his hand.

“Stop blaming yourself for what happened, Donny. In the final reckoning there was really only one guilty person. And he has met his fate. No thanks to you.”

“Did you kill him?”

“Do I look like I could kill him? They broke me, Donny. You should see the pathetic rehab yoga I have to do just to get my ass out of bed in the morning.”

“You know what I mean.”

“And you don’t seem to be able to figure out that the dead don’t want their remains to be disturbed. Running around with your cathode-ray delusions of justice, imagining yourself as some white savior of the downtrodden victims to make up for the fact that you’ve fucked up your career and your relationships and every chance at happiness that came your way. Maybe the victims know how to take care of themselves.”

It stung, but somehow their fights always energized Donny, and the more they got going the more he wanted to get into it.

“Is that what happened to Slider?” he asked.