her voice sound small, wondering if there was still a chance that she could gain some sympathy from her husband, or maybe even from Eric. But Eric was smiling and Bruce laughed, the same merciless sound she’d heard coming from him earlier by the plane. A barking laugh, like rocks being clapped together.
“Yeah, we all know about terrible dreams,” came a new voice, and Abigail refocused her eyes on the speaker. It was Chip with his reedy voice, and all the other men, including Bruce, now looked at him. “How does it feel?” he said, pointing his finger at her.
He seemed to be waiting for an actual answer and Abigail shook her head slowly, suddenly panicking, as if she’d been asked a question in class that she didn’t know the answer to.
“How does it feel?” he asked again, his voice louder. He took a step toward her. The fire was behind him, his shaggy beard and sloping shoulders outlined in flickering orange light. Next to him was the blond pilot, now holding the mask he’d been wearing earlier down by his side, tapping it rhythmically against his thigh as though it were a tambourine.
“How does what feel?” Abigail said, and the words came out loud and clear, although her voice sounded strange in her own head.
“How does it feel to be a modern American woman, to live an entirely privileged life, to be able to do everything you want to do, everything you feel like doing, and get away with it?”
Abigail said nothing.
“How does it feel to finally have to own up to your actions? Both of you.”
Chip looked over at Jill and so did Abigail. They’d been moved closer to each other, although they were still about ten yards apart.
“Alec, please,” Jill said, her voice almost a wail.
“Jill Greenly,” Chip boomed. “You are charged with infidelity and wantonness. How do you plead?”
Abigail watched Jill, her head swiveling, her eyes wide. She looked like a panicked cat searching a room for its exits.
“How do you plead?” Chip said again, stepping in her direction, now pointing at her, his arm held high, almost above his head.
It’s a trial, Abigail thought. We’re on fucking trial. She felt a laugh rising in her that she knew was partly hysteria. She tried to suppress it, but it came out anyway. The eyes of all the men shifted toward her.
“We’ll get to you, Abigail Lamb,” Chip said.
She laughed some more, and Bruce said, “Keep your mouth shut.”
She kept laughing, her shoulders hitching up and down almost spasmodically. Finally, with tears streaking her face, she said, “You bunch of fucking cowards.”
Bruce bent and took a wild swing at Abigail’s head with a closed fist. She leaned back and the punch missed, and because Bruce was bent over awkwardly, the punch spun him and he twisted to the ground, landing hard on his side. Eric helped him up, then held him back.
Abigail felt the laughter rising inside her again, but suppressed it, thinking that Bruce might just kill her on the spot if she laughed again.
“I trusted you,” Bruce said, still being held by Eric.
“You set me up,” she said. “People who trust each other don’t do that.”
“You fucked another man on a weekend to celebrate our wedding. On a weekend that I paid for.” In the light from the fire she could see spit spraying from his lips as he spoke.
“Fine,” Abigail said quickly, sensing that Chip was going to interrupt, that this was not the script he had in mind. “I’m a bad person. I’m guilty. But you didn’t need to marry me. You didn’t need to torture me and do all this.”
“If I hadn’t married you, then you’d have married some other man and made his life miserable.”
“What does that have to do with you?” Abigail said.
“So you plead guilty, Abigail Lamb,” Chip said, jumping in before Bruce could answer. It was clear that in some ways Chip was in charge. Even though he had no personal connection with either Abigail or Jill, he was running the show.
“Sure, Chip Ramsay,” Abigail said back, copying his tone of voice. “I’m guilty as charged.”
Chip reached out and gently tapped the shoulder of the pilot, who pulled his mask back over his head, then came around behind Abigail and placed his hands on her left shoulder. Eric came around to stand behind Abigail on her other side.
“And you, Jill Greenly, do you plead guilty, also, to infidelity and wantonness?”
Abigail looked over at Jill, who was quietly crying.