A Maidens Grave

understand her.
    Yet she had no choice. She lifted her hands and moved her fingers in rhythmic patterns.
    Anna didn’t understand at first and began to respond in ASL.
    “No,” Melanie instructed, frowning for emphasis. “No signing.”
    It was vital that she convey her message, for she believed she could save the twins at least, and maybe one more—poor gasping Beverly, or Emily, whose thin white legs Bear had been staring at for long moments before he pulled Donna Harstrawn toward him and spread her legs like a hungry man opening up a package of food.
    “Take gas can,” Melanie communicated. Somehow. “Tie sweater around it.”
    After a moment the girls understood. They easedforward. Their tiny hands went to work enwrapping the can with the colorful sweater.
    The can was now enwrapped by the sweater.
    “Go out back door. One on left.”
    The doorway swept clean of dust by the breeze from the river.
    “Afraid.”
    Melanie nodded but persisted. “Have to.”
    A faint, heartbreaking nod. Then another. Emily stirred beside Melanie. The girl was terrified. Melanie took her hand, behind their backs, out of Bear’s view. She finger-spelled in English. “Y-o-u w-i-l-l b-e n-e-x-t. D-o n-o-t w-o-r-r-y.”
    Emily nodded. To the twins Melanie said, “Follow smell of river.” She flared her nostrils. “River. Smell.”
    A nod from both girls.
    “Hold on to sweater and jump into water.”
    Two no shakes. Emphatic.
    Melanie’s eyes flared. “Yes!”
    Then Melanie looked at the teacher and back to the girls, explaining silently what could happen to them. And the twins understood. Anna started to whimper.
    Melanie would not allow this. “Stop!” she insisted. “Now. Go.”
    The twins were behind Bear. He’d have to stand up and turn to see them.
    Afraid to use her hands, Anna timidly lowered her face and wiped it on her sleeve. They shook their heads no. In heartbreaking unison.
    Melanie’s hand rose and she risked fast fingerspellings and hand signs. Bear’s eyes were closed; he missed the gestures. “Abbé de l’Epée is out there. Waiting for you.”
    Their eyes went wide.
    De l’Epée?
    The savior of the Deaf. A legend. He was Lancelot, he was King Arthur. For heaven’s sake, he was Tom Cruise! He couldn’t be outside. Yet Melanie’s face was so serious, she was so insistent that they offered faint nods of acquiescence.
    “You must find him. Give him note in your pocket.”
    “Where is he?” Anna signed.
    “He’s older man, heavy. Gray hair. Glasses and blue sports coat.” They nodded enthusiastically (though this was hardly how they pictured the legendary abbé). “Find him and give him note.”
    Bear looked up and Melanie continued to lift her hand innocently to wipe her red, but dry, eyes as if she’d been crying. He looked down again and continued. Melanie was grateful she couldn’t hear the piggish grunts she knew issued from his fat mouth.
    “Ready?” she asked the girls.
    Indeed they were; they would leap into flames if it meant they could meet their idol. Melanie looked again at Bear, the sweat dripping off his face and falling like rain on poor Mrs. Harstrawn’s cheeks and jiggling breasts. His eyes closed. The moment of finishing was near—something Melanie had read about but couldn’t quite comprehend.
    “Take shoes off. And tell de l’Epée to be careful.”
    Anna nodded. “I love you,” she signed. Suzie did too.
    Melanie looked out the doorway and saw Brutus and Stoat, far across the slaughterhouse, staring at the TV. She nodded twice. The girls picked up their gas-can life preserver and vanished around the corner. Melanie watched Bear to see if their passage was silent. Apparently it was.
    To distract him she leaned forward, enduring the ugly man’s ominous stare, and slowly, cautiously, with her burgundy sleeve wiped the sheen of his sweat from the teacher’s face. He was perplexed by the gesture then angered. He shoved her back against the wall. Her head hit the tile with a thud. There she sat until he finished and lay gasping. Finally he rolled off her. Melanie saw a slick pool on the woman’s thigh. Blood too. Bear glanced furtively into the other room. He had escaped undetected; Brutus and Stoat hadn’t seen. He sat up. He zipped his filthy jeans and pulled down Mrs. Harstrawn’s skirt, roughly buttoned her blouse.
    Bear leaned forward and put his face inches from Melanie’s. She managed to hold his eye—it was terrifying but she would do anything to