unison just as Sly had instructed.
The three occupants of the trailer jerked around towards the commotion as though on the same set of puppet strings. Grunt and Gracie, who were standing on either side of the wooden box preparing to lower Elliot into it, looked liked they were witnessing the second coming. Elliot, however, standing in front of the box, had the same look of peaceful bliss on his face as during the seance.
"Get you hands up!" Dodger shouted.
Grunt's hands flew up so fast for a moment Dodger was afraid he'd jammed them through the trailer's low ceiling, but they cleared with a couple inches to spare. Gracie glared first at Grunt then at Dodger; her hands firmly gripping Elliot.
"What the hell are you doing?" Gracie yelled, turning back to Grunt. "It's only a boy with a water pistol. Get him!"
But before Grunt could move, Elliot took a step forward towards the intruders, then suddenly turned and with a wave of his arms, knocked Gracie off her feet and into the weathered coffin. As her head hit the side of the container, the newly repaired top slammed shut. Elliot promptly sat down on the cover and slipped the padlock through the latch.
"Don't. . .don't shoot. . . I'm just an old man trying to make it to his next meal. Gracie there was the ringleader. She made me do it. I didn't want to. . . I like idiot here. . . really. . . "
"Shut up!" Sly and Dodger yelled at the same time, then looked at each other in surprise.
"Find something to tie him up with, Dodge my boy," Sly instructed. "If you can't find anything else, look for an extension cord."
Dodger leaped into action. Finding some nylon cord under the sink, he sat Grunt down in a chair and tied him securely to it.
"Okay, now what?" Dodger asked as he stepped back to examine his handiwork.
"Time to call the authorities." Sly said.
"Ahhh. . . " Dodger hesitated. "Maybe you should call. I'm not real popular down at the station."
"No, you call. In fact, call you uncle and have him bring the police."
"Are you sure?" Dodger asked.
"Yeah," Sly replied with a wink.
Dodger started towards the door but before he reached it Sly stopped him.
"I'm going to have to leave -- for a while. You can handle it from here can't you Dodger?"
There was a strange tone to Sly's voice. It reminded Dodger of the voice he'd heard through the window earlier in the evening.
"What's going on here?" Dodger asked, turning first to Sly then to Elliot. As he looked at Elliot, he noticed Elliot's eyes were closed as though in a trance, but he continued to have the same peaceful aura surround him.
"Wait just a minute, here," Dodger looked again at Sly. "Why couldn't the old lady see anyone but me?"
"I guess some people have no imagination," Sly answered with Elliot's voice. "Now, go fetch the cops. Everything is going to be fine from here on out. I promise."
Dodger turned to leave, but Sly stopped him once more. "See that bottle there on the table? Take it with you. It's my . . . Elliot's medicine. 2 cc's is plenty most of the time."
Dodger picked up the medicine and the pack of syringes and stuck them in his coat pocket. "But how did you . . . "
"Not now, Dodger. Go call your uncle," Sly said and winked again.
Still confused, Dodger ran down to the trailer park's office and called his uncle. He knew the response to expect from his uncle and was ready. As soon as his uncle picked up the phone, he blurted out, "Hi this is Dodger I'm fine I'm at the Blue Herring Trailer Park Come quick and bring the police Trailer site #23 Bye." He hung the phone up with his uncle still stuttering on the other end of the phone.
Sly was gone by the time Dodger returned to trailer site #23. Elliot sat on the box in the lotus position, the look on his face already taking on the dull, vacant appearance Dodger had seen through the window of the Caddy. By the time Dodger's uncle arrived with the cops, Elliot sat in a stupor, a thin stream of drool sliding down the corner of his mouth.
"I've told you a dozen times already. Don't make me keep repeating it. He can stay tonight but in the morning he's got to go to the hospital."
"But Uncle Matt, mom's coming in the afternoon. Please, let him stay 'til then. I know when mom meets Elliot she'll want us to take him home with us," Dodger pleaded.
Uncle Matt turned around, his face red with anger. He opened his mouth to yell at his nephew, but then noticed the syringe in Dodger's hand.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Chill out, it's just Elliot's medicine. I know what I'm doing."
"Are you sure?" Matt picked up the bottle setting on the table between Dodger and Elliot. "What's it for?"
"It . . .well, it helps him. That's all. I'm not the doctor. I'm just doing what I was told. Now, give me a hand, will you? You got any alcohol?"
"Got some vodka in the cabinet," Matt replied with a puzzled look on his face. "Are you sure. . . ?"
"The vodka will have to do," Dodger interrupted. Can you get it for me . . . and some cotton, too?"
Matt walked into the kitchen, returning with a half-emptied bottle of vodka and a paper towel.
"Fresh out of cotton. This will have to do."
Dodger took the vodka and towel. He rolled Elliot's sleeve up and cleaned his arm with the vodka. Then squinting his eyes, he gave Elliot the injection.
"Damn. He didn't even flinch. He must be really gone," Matt said, staring at Elliot's blank expression.
"He's not gone," Dodger argued. "He's just use to the shots."
"Well, I hope he's going to be okay here tonight. It's about time the two of you went to bed."
"But Uncle Matt, can't we let him stay. . ."
"Don't start with me, boy. I told you. He's got to go to the hospital in the morning."
"Who's going to the hospital?" The woman's voice came through the front door screen. "Dodger, you didn't go break your fool arm again, did you?
"It's Mom!" Dodger yelled, running to the door and flinging it open.
"No kidding?" The lady said as she glanced around. "Oh, you mean me? Well, fancy that. How you been, son?"
"Boy, am I ever glad to see you. I've got a new friend I want you to meet. He's right inside."
" okay. Let's go in and you can introduce us."
"We didn't expect you until tomorrow." Matt said as he bent over and gave his sister a peck on the cheek. "Nice looking dress."
"Thanks. I didn't think I could get off work but . . . is this your friend, Dodger?"
"Yes, mame. His name is Elliot. He doesn't talk much. He's real quiet and well behaved. He's my very best friend in the whole world," Dodger said, beaming from ear to ear.
"That's nice. It's a pleasure to meet you, Elliot," Dodger's mom said, then turned to Matt. "Why are you taking him to the hospital?"
"It's a long story. Why don't you sit down. I'll fix us some coffee and tell you what's been happening."
". . . .And that's about the size of it," Matt said as he set his coffee cup down.
"Please, Mom. Don't take him to the hospital," Dodger said, jumping up from the table and winning a dark scour from his uncle. "They'll just stick him away somewhere. He deserves better. He needs a real home and people who will love him and take care of him."
"Why, of course he does, Dodger," his mom replied, "but what did you have in mind?"
"He could come live with us. We could be his family. You've always said you wished you had had a second child to keep me company. Well, here he is."
"Boy, I think it's well past your bedtime," Matt said, standing up and placing his cup and saucer in the sink.
"Wait a minute, Matt, the boy's got a point."
"He does?" Matt asked, turning and looking at his sister, a shocked look on his face. "Are you daft?"
"No, I'm not daft. I just think it's worth considering. Let me sleep on the idea, Dodger, and we'll discuss it tomorrow. But one thing I can promise you, we're not taking Elliot to the hospital in the morning. Now, let's get the two of you to bed. It's late."
> "All right!" Dodger shouted. "Come on Elliot. I'll show you my room."
Dodger took Elliot by the hand, and the two of them walked down the hall. As they reached the door to the spare bedroom, Dodger turned to Elliot and whispered. "I hope you have a plan for tomorrow when my real mom gets here."
THE END
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