Julie had suggested camping. Frank's breakup had been devastating. They needed to get him out of the house and force him to start living again. Roberto wanted to organize a softball game in the park. Walter thought a horror movie marathon would put him to rights. Angela wanted to take him to that raunchy strip club across the county line, where there was nobody to enforce the decency laws. But Julie would not be deterred. So camping they went.
They chose the forest to the east of town. There were no campsites, no restrooms, and no barbecue grills. Such things were for the lazy and pampered. A clearing and a creek was all they needed. They left the car at the ranger's station and hiked into the woods.
Once they'd selected their site, Angela and Julie put up the tents. Roberto and Walter gathered wood and built a fire. Frank sat on the ground and sucked on a bottle of brandy. They got him to eat one of the burgers they cooked, but otherwise let him wallow in his misery.
"Ilan."
A voice in the darkness.
"Ilan."
Recognition. Someone had called her name.
"ILAN!"
She tasted dirt. Her mouth was full of it. She tried to breathe, but she was buried deep. There was no air. She wanted nothing more than to suffocate, but that choice wasn't open to her.
"ILAN!" It wasn't one voice. It was all of them.
She should have been dead. She wanted to be dead. The rope and the tree should have been enough. But the voices weren't going to let her go that easy. Her crimes were too great.
"ILAN!"
She twisted and writhed, breaking the grip of the soil surrounding her. She struggled and fought to be free of the earth. She was weak, weaker than she'd ever been, but she was strong enough for this.
"ILAN! ILAN! ILAN!"
Frank passed out while the others played Confession. They took turns telling deep, dark secrets and guessing whether those secrets were true or not. Angela and Roberto dragged him into one of the tents and returned. Julie was telling a story about a boyfriend who robbed a convenience store while she waited in the car. Julie tended to freak out if her library book was close to its due date. The story was obviously false.
Ilan saw the sunlight, but it wasn't real. It was hot on her skin, but it was an old, old memory. She was still deep underground. It was the sunlight from three thousand years ago when Ilan stood on the wall and watched the ships coming. A thousand ships, the legends said.
Her husband was here to make war on her lover. She felt such pride in that moment, such joy. No woman had ever had so much power. She was the prize of two nations. A mighty king and a powerful prince fought for the honor of sharing her bed. Thousands of men would die in battle. Thousands of women and children would die from fire and starvation. The war destroyed a generation. All because of her.
The city of Troy fell, never to rise again. She was reunited with her husband. But ten years of war had aged her. Her legendary beauty was faded. Her children would always be illegitimate. Her husband had a new and younger wife. And Ilan was retired to a pretty prison at the top of a tower. Her power was gone. Her pride was gone. And then she died. But the gods of Troy wanted vengeance. The survivors of Troy would need a protector. Helen of Troy was called from the grave to ensure that survival.
Walter was nodding off. His coffee was about to spill. The light was fading. Roberto was building up the fire.
"What was that sound?" Julie asked.
"ILAN! ILAN! ILAN!"
The taste of soil returned. The weight of the earth was crushing her once again. The voices had sent her back into her memories to give her a taste of the glory she'd once known and to remind her what she owed. And now, it was time once again to pay the price.
