Under the Overtree

by James A. Moore

  Mark found himself suddenly uncomfortable as he looked up at P.J. and explained. “I wouldn’t tell him the names, I told him I could take care of it myself. And I will, in my own way. I’m too old to go running to my folks every time somebody pushes me.”

  The older man’s face softened then and he looked over towards Mark with a calm understanding. He obviously didn’t approve, but he accepted. “So. Just make sure that you do handle it. Every young bird has to spread its wings, but don’t try to fly too fast or too far. Get a little more experience under your belt first, Okay?”

  Mark smiled and nodded his head. P.J. Put the closed sign out and went into the back of the store where his small kitchen was. When he came back, he had several sandwiches and two colas in his hands. “Let’s eat and then we can look over the latest convention schedules. Screamicon is just around the corner in Boulder. Perhaps we can convince your mother to allow you to come along. After all, you are my assistant manager.” Mark stuttered excitedly at the thought and the rest of the afternoon fairly flew past.

  2

  Andy Phillips watched as Mark rode past, heading towards his home. Andy kind of liked Mark, he never had anything bad to say except for that one time and he didn’t seem to mind that Andy and the guys picked on him, it was almost like he expected to get picked on. Andy even considered waving, but thought better of it. What if one of the guys saw? What would they say?

  Andy wasn’t the brightest kid in school and he knew it, but he didn’t mind. Not as long as he still had the guys to hang around with. They seemed to like him okay and they never made fun of him. At least not when he was around. People had made fun of Andy all his life, because he was kind of slow; not retarded or anything bad like that, just slow. He managed to pass all of his classes and he was due to graduate at the end of the school year, but he had to work harder at it than anyone else did. He wished he was smarter, but knew his wishes were wasted breath when it came to the brains department.

  Andy remembered very little about the day that he and the gang had trounced Mark Howell. He remembered the fight between Mark and Tony, but he didn’t really remember why they had fought, or going after school to find Mark in the woods. He didn’t remember kicking Mark in the ribs nine times, he didn’t remember laughing when he saw the split flesh on Mark’s face. All he remembered was going into the woods with his friends and having a good time. No why’s or wherefore’s lodged in his skull.

  If he’d thought very hard about the situation, he might have regretted that he remembered so little about most of his life, but he never really thought about it. The one thing he never had any trouble remembering, were the girls that he saw.

  Andy liked to look at girls realizing that they were different and fascinating in the same way that children looked at bugs and made the same discovery. Except now and then he got uncomfortable. When that happened, Andy liked to—No! Mustn’t think about that!—do things.

  Things like he had done to Tanya Billingsley late in the summer. Tanya had screamed and hit him and had tried to run away. Andy had caught her. After that he really didn’t remember too much except rubbing up against her and not seeing her when school started up again. He felt bad about that; he liked to look at her.

  He remembered seeing her in the paper a while back and cutting her picture out so he could look at her whenever he wanted, but he couldn’t remember where he had put the picture. He had that problem sometimes.

  Andy was still standing in the same spot almost an hour later, when Cassie and Mark came jogging by. He waved, but they didn’t see him. They were too busy looking at each other. He didn’t mind. He was used to being overlooked. His parents did it all the time.

  As they ran past, Andy stared hard at Cassie’s rear end and at her coppery hair. She was pretty, almost as pretty as Tanya and he felt himself start to get uncomfortable. He’d have to remember to come here again, maybe tomorrow. Maybe he’d get to see Cassie run by again and maybe she’d notice when he waved next time.

  3

  Cassie liked to read horror stories too and she was excited about meeting P.J. Sanderson. She hadn’t even known that the man lived in town and she certainly hadn’t known that he owned the Basilisk. If she had, she’d have purchased her books there instead of at the Mall in town. Mark told her all about the writer and even said that she could read the original manuscript he was getting tomorrow, if she swore not to tell P.J. She promised it would be their little secret.

  She had to admit it, Mark was doing better than she had expected when it came to the jogging. They’d already gone over half the distance to the Basilisk and he was barely winded. She looked at him and saw where his eyes were glued and smiled. Men. They all looked at the same spots. At least he had the decency to look her in the eyes when she was talking. That was more than she could say for most of the guys she knew. Even Tyler was talking to her chest these days and Tyler was practically her brother.

  He noticed her looking at him and quickly turned his face away so she couldn’t see him blush. He was like a puppy dog whenever he was around her; full of energy and ready to wag his tail if he had one. At least he’d gotten over being so nervous all of the time. He could talk to her and not blush; except when she caught him staring at her feminine parts.

  She couldn’t say that she was in love with him, not yet at least, but she certainly liked him an awful lot. Cassie was glad that she’d invited him to join her on her afternoon jogs. The only other guy she was even half-interested in was Tony Scarrabelli. She really wished the two of them didn’t seem to hate each other so much. It made life damn difficult. Truth be told, she didn’t know which of them she liked better.

  She saw Andy Phillips on the side of the road and quickly turned away. Andy was a little on the scary side with the way he had of looking at her. He’d run his eyes over her whole body and lick his wormy lips and then, if he remembered to, he’d look at her face and wave. Cassie had suspicions that he wouldn’t be a safe person to spend time with alone.

  Without even thinking, she took Mark’s hand in hers and squeezed, relaxing when she felt him squeeze back. Their hands seemed to fit together.

  After another fifteen minutes they slowed down and approached the Basilisk. Mark was panting and more than a little sweaty, but he didn’t look like he was going to drop dead. He looked over at her, smiling brightly and gestured grandly. “Milady, the palace of hellish delights,” he announced, “complete with yours truly as a tour guide.” That was another thing she liked about Mark: he didn’t hesitate to show his intelligence in the way he spoke and he didn’t use it as a way of trying to be superior, either.

  With a smile of her own and a final squeeze of his hand, she released her grip on his fingers and they walked towards the glass door.

  P.J. was a delight, he smiled fondly, squeezed her hand affectionately and insisted they stay for a few hours. When she tried to protest the special treatment, his response was; “Cassie, any fan of mine is a friend of mine. Especially if they happen to be friends with my assistant manager.” He then excused himself and ran to fix them a snack and tea.

  She could tell that Mark had a special spot in his heart for the writer and it was easy to see why. P.J. was almost as eager to see her as Mark was. She couldn’t help wondering if Mark had told the older man about her and maybe stretched the truth in the process.

  As P.J. reentered the room, loaded down with cheese and crackers plus chilled fruit, Mark excused himself and went off to the bathroom down the hall. P.J. immediately took full advantage of the golden opportunity and started with the barrage of questions. “So, how long have you two been dating, or are you just friends?”

  Cassie was a little taken aback, but she saw that the man was honestly interested and eager to listen. She also saw that he was aware of Mark’s feelings and suspected that Mark hadn’t had to tell the man anything, he’d just seen it on his young friend’s face. “Well, I wouldn’t say that we’re dating, or anything like that. We really just met earlier this
week, right after he got hurt.”

  P.J. frowned for half a second at the thought of Mark’s injuries and then brightened when he responded. “But it’s not an impossibility? Please say it’s not; he needs a good woman to keep his feet on the ground. The boy’s just too flighty, reminds me of me when I was his age.”

  She smiled and chuckled and admitted that the thought of seeing him steadily had crossed her mind. And laughed wholeheartedly when the man rolled his eyes towards Heaven and proclaimed, “Thank you, Jesus. I’ve never even heard Mark talk about you, but I could tell he was in love with someone right after school started.” He frowned when he heard the toilet flush from down the hallway. “Curses, here he comes. So much for the juicy gossip hour. So, tell me about how much you loved all of my novels.” The man fanned himself with an imaginary fan and spoke in a false Southern accent. “We writer types have such delicate egos; we need all the morale boosts we can get.”

  They spent the next hour and a half, chatting away like old friends, with P.J. leading the conversations and directing the questions they each had about different writers and the many books each had read. Just before they left he raced back into his apartment in the back half of the old house and came out with two copies of the manuscript. “One for each of you, so we can discuss what changes you both feel are necessary when you both come over next Saturday.”

  And that was it. Feeling vaguely like she had passed a test of some sort, Cassie said good-bye to the man and was surprised by the kiss on the cheek that he gave her. He shooed the two of them off and Cassie knew she had made a new friend.

  She and Mark walked slowly the entire way back home. They held hands, talked and enjoyed each other’s company. For Cassie, it was a wonderful change of pace and it let her realize just how much she liked Mark. They paused once for a fledgling kiss. She enjoyed it almost as much as he did. They didn’t see Tony as he cruised past in his car, but he saw them. It was one more reason to hate the new kid. Not that he needed any more.

  They didn’t see Andy, either. They didn’t see the glazed look in his eyes, or the way he licked his lips. They didn’t notice when he started following them from a small distance, his eyes locked on Cassie.

  4

  He was uncomfortable, but he knew how to take care of that. He might have to wait awhile, but he could be patient. They were heading for the woods and he knew the woods very well. It was in the woods that he’d finally caught up with Tanya. He liked the woods; the woods were his safe place, where he never had to worry about being hurt. They held his secret place, a place so secret that he seldom remembered it if he wasn’t there.

  Cassie heard him first, just after the sun had set. Mark was too busy thinking about their first kiss to have heard an elephant stampede.

  It was a little sound, the snapping of a large twig, the rustle of a few autumn leaves, but it didn’t belong. When she turned around, she saw Andy just as he dodged behind a tree. She didn’t like the look on his face. He looked like he was angry and sad and expectant, all at once.

  “Mark,” she whispered, as she tugged at his sleeve, “I think we’re being followed.”

  He turned to her and frowned, “By who?” He looked concerned and remembering his recent experience in the woods, she understood his reasons.

  “Andy Phillips, I saw him hide behind a tree,” she whispered urgently. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t like the way he looks at me.”

  Mark frowned. Andy was, by and far, the biggest member of Tony’s little herd of friends. He could still feel the tenderness that Andy’s foot had caused in his rib cage. But he wouldn’t let Andy hurt Cassie, he couldn’t. He held his few friends as far too precious to leave unprotected.

  He felt the hidden angers inside of him start to stir and that as much as the thought of Andy Phillips stirred him into motion. He didn’t know which to be more afraid of, himself or Andy. “C’mon, I know the shortest way home.”

  Cassie followed, holding tightly to his hand as he led the way through the rapidly darkening trees. He definitely knew the woods and she was stunned by how well. He hadn’t even been in town for two months, but he pointed out pitfalls she would never have seen. He stepped around logs that were rotted and deadly without even a thought, save to warn her.

  Andy was not as lucky. She heard his grunts as he fell several times, heard the sound of his body crashing to the ground and the sound of him struggling back to his feet. He never said a word, which was what frightened her the most.

  The lights of the subdivision could be seen through the thinning woods when he caught up with them. Both she and Mark were taken completely by surprise as he stepped out from a tree directly in front of them. Luck had been his guide while they had stepped around the forest’s little snares, he had simply stepped over them. He looked the worse for his shortcut.

  Andy Phillips stood over six foot three and weighed in at easily two hundred and fifty pounds. Most of those pounds were now covered in dirt and leaves from his repeated falls on the forest’s floor. He had several small scrapes on his hands and arms and a small tear in his heavy metal tee shirt. She couldn’t tell which band he was promoting on his chest today, but concert shirts were practically the only things he wore. Even if he’d had a big smile plastered on his wide face, he would have intimidated her. The pasty, blank look he wore did nothing to help her disposition. His eyes glittered darkly and his wide pinkish lips twitched, as if trying to remember how to smile. He was breathing hard, but didn’t even seem to notice. “Hi, Mark. Hi, Cassie. How ya doin’?” The question was aimed directly towards her chest and both of them noticed.

  Mark slid in between the two of them, his body tensed and trembling, like an over-wound spring. “Uh, hi, Andy, we’re just going home, we’re both late for dinner,” he explained slowly, as if to a small child.

  Andy almost managed a grin for him. Almost. “ Yeah, I’m gonna be late, too. Why don’t you go on, I have to tell something to Cassie.”

  “Well, I’ll just wait here, I promised her I’d walk her home.”

  “I’ll do it, I don’t mind.” He actually bothered to look away from Cassie and pin Mark with a black stare. To his credit, Mark barely flinched. Andy was a good six inches taller than her protector.

  Mark tried one more time, “Well, I’d hate to break a promise, Andy. I’m a man of my word.” He smiled tightly as he spoke, fully aware that Andy was having none of it. He felt his adrenaline glands going into overdrive, preparing him for his dismemberment. He had every intention of going down swinging, giving Cassie enough time to get away. He gave her a quick warning look and a gentle push that urged her to run. She stayed where she was. He could have throttled her; what was he purpose of getting himself maimed again, if she stayed around for Andy to grab when he was done with the maiming?

  Andy appeared to swell, seemed ready to grow out of his skin as he looked over at Mark. His voice, which had been a soft whisper, deepened, taking on a very threatening note. “Mark, leave. I have to talk to Cassie in private.”

  Cassie felt ready to scream, she could feel the tension in the air as Mark looked his opponent in the eyes and gulping down a wad of spittle, replied. “No.”

  Andy hit Mark in the stomach and all of the air in his body took a vacation. He felt his lungs rebel, felt the bruised ribs scream in protest. Somehow, he managed to swing back.

  Andy couldn’t understand: Mark shouldn’t have argued with him and he certainly shouldn’t have been standing after he’d been hit. But mostly, he shouldn’t have hit him in the balls. He felt his blood rise to his face and roared out in anger. Some little part of his brain knew that he had about five seconds before the pain hit him. He reached for Mark’s face.

  Mark screamed when Andy’s blunt fingers grabbed at his cheeks and he positively shrieked when he felt the stitches start to tear open in a blaze of hot agony. His hands flew in a frenzy, punching and clawing at the pain in front of him. He felt warmth running down his enraged cheek and heard the sound of Cassie
screaming in the distance. None of it mattered. When the pain in front of him let go he followed with a growl. He would stop the pain once and for all.

  Cassie thought there was a bear in the woods after she heard the growl. Then she realized that the sound had come from Mark. She looked at the two figures in the dark and saw the arms of the smaller one lash out again and again. She watched, her eyes failing to believe what they saw, as Andy tried to run away and Mark went after him. She couldn’t make out the words in Mark’s war cry, but she knew he meant to kill Andy. Andy moved with a speed that belied his size and darted around trees and shrubs that Mark never even saw. The third time he fell down, Mark stopped chasing after the larger boy.

  It took fully a minute for Cassie’s mind to accept what had just happened. When she did, she ran to where Mark lay on his hands and knees. At first she thought he was crying, the hitching sounds he made were very fast and faint. When she got closer, she realized he was in the grips of a full-scale giggle fit. “Mark?” She looked down at him and winced when she saw that three of his stitches had been torn out of his face. He didn’t even seem to notice.

  After a few moments, he sobered and felt along the line of stitches. They rushed back to his house and Joe immediately ran into the bathroom for his first aid kit when he saw the bleeding, torn stitches.

  While Joe fixed the small tear using only a piece of gauze, he explained to Cassie that the stitches were due out on Monday anyway, he’d just helped the process along. Joe listened raptly as Cassie explained what had happened over Mark’s protests. Mark seemed horribly embarrassed now that the fight was over with. Joe, on the other hand, seemed damn pleased with his stepson’s performance.