by Doug Draper
While Al sped away, Joe and Ben carried their backpacks and sleeping bags to where the rest of the scouts waited. As they approached, one of the boys started to cackle like a chicken, tapping into a worn-out gag to announce that “the chicken patrol” had arrived. Because Joe and Ben raised chickens and had a reputation for not being fighters, the other scouts created a nickname for the Hawk patrol that stuck—the “chicken patrol.”
Three parents had agreed to help the scoutmaster with transportation, but only one of them, Brother Sanderson, would be staying overnight. The other two would leave that evening and return the next day to bring the troop home in the late afternoon. Brother Sanderson worked for a road construction company and was driving a van he used during the week to haul work crews to job sites. He told Joe and Ben to put their stuff in the back of the scoutmaster’s truck and then get in his van.
Before starting the drive, Gene announced that they needed to stop at Benanti’s Groceries to buy more ice for the coolers and water jugs. The scouts all groaned about making the stop, especially when told that they wouldn’t be allowed in the store.
“I’ll go in with Brother Sanderson and Brother Franks,” Gene said. “Everyone else needs to stay in their vehicle or next to it.”
Every scout bailed out of the cars and van as soon as the vehicles stopped in front of Benanti’s. The usual shoving, pushing, and poking started immediately. Ben moved away from the troop to avoid it.
While killing time, Joe and Ben walked toward the edge of the parking lot to get a closer look at the business across the street—Miss Franny’s Fine Art and Collectibles or “Fat Fanny’s Junk Store” as their father called it. Miss Franny’s had taken over the space formerly known as Al Baker’s Service Station.
Al’s business had been converted into a gift shop and antiques store that attracted tourists looking for souvenirs and bargains while taking a scenic drive up one of the nearby canyons. The gas pumps had been removed along with the collection of old cars parked behind the building. The service bay doors had been decorated with stained glass, dreamcatchers, and posters.
“Do you remember the good times we had there?” Ben asked.
“I’m glad it’s gone,” Joe said lifelessly.
Before Ben could remind him of their driving adventures, the roar of motorcycles led him and all the scouts to turn around and watch three bikes coming toward them. The bikes rumbled down Main Street as the riders scanned the town’s businesses. The lead rider pointed ahead to Miss Franny’s shop.
When they passed the troop, the lead driver turned and looked at Ben. Even though the man wore sunglasses and a bandana around his head, Ben immediately recognized him—Derek Dean had come back.
Rumors had circulated for the past few weeks that Derek had been released from prison and lived in the area, but nobody in Alma had seen him. Now, Ben was getting a close-up view of Derek as he steered his bike toward him. Ben thought about running but Joe stood his ground, so Ben followed his big brother’s example and didn’t move. Derek stopped within inches of Ben’s toes. The other two bikers parked slightly behind Derek with one on each side, looking like fighter jets flying in formation.
Even though the loud motorcycles had attracted their attention, the other scouts stayed away. The legend of Derek Dean kept most locals fearful of him. Derek reached down and shut off his engine, which led his friends to do the same. Ben glanced at the faces of the other two bikers to see if one of them was Derek’s old friend Denny, but these men were new to him.
“So, if it isn’t little Benny Baker,” Derek said. “I bet you’re surprised to see me again. Aren’t you?”
Ben solemnly muttered “Yes” in response.
“Well, I’m not surprised to see you. I’ve been thinking about this moment since your lies sent me to prison. Guess what? The parole board let me out early for good behavior.”
Ben didn’t know what to say or do, standing still and shifting his eyes from Derek to his two friends. He again thought about making an escape, but he didn’t want to give the entire troop the pleasure of watching him run off like a frightened chicken. So he acted calm and clenched his fists to fight his body’s impulse to shake.
“I see that your dad’s crummy gas station went out of business,” Derek said. “I guess he couldn’t keep it alive without me bringing in the customers.”
“No, it closed because you stole his tools,” Ben said.
“Oh yeah, that could be a problem. I guess I should say ‘so sorry’ but I’m not. Your dad is a jerk and deserved it.”
“He’s a great mechanic and working at a big auto dealership in Provo now. We’re doing fine without you.”
“Dream on, Benny.”
Derek waved to all the scouts watching him. “So, what are all you girls doing today? Going shopping so you can have a little tea party?”
“No, we’re going camping in Payson Canyon,” Ben said before realizing that he should have kept the troop’s plan a secret from Derek.
“Payson Canyon,” Derek said, turning to look at his friends. “Didn’t I tell you guys that we should ride over there next?”
They nodded and laughed.
Derek returned his focus to Ben. “I’ll see you there, so we can catch up about old times. Expect me sometime around midnight.”
With his thumb, Derek gestured over his left shoulder to one of his friends and said, “Of course, I’ll be bringing Luke with me. He likes to start fires.”
Luke grinned at Ben, showing his discolored chipped teeth, and added “Sure do” to support his friend’s claim. Luke came close to Derek in height, but he lacked his powerful build and handsome features. His wiry frame gave the appearance that he had missed many meals and his thin, scraggly hair and darting eyes left him looking like a stray dog that might bite anyone who came to close.
Derek pointed over his right shoulder and added, “And my pal Wayne will be coming. He’s handy with guns and can shoot the eye out of a magpie a half-mile away.”
Wayne used his beefy right hand to simulate a pistol and made a popping sound when he aimed it at Ben. No hint of a smile touched his dark face when he took his imaginary shot. The man looked mean—the kind of person Derek had encouraged Ben to become.
Derek reached behind his seat and opened the saddlebag. He pulled out a large hunting knife, removed it from the sheath, and stuck the point into his left index finger.
“And I’ll be bringing this friend with me,” he said.
With his usual grin frozen in place, he punctured his finger and let blood trickle down the blade. “Look at that—he’s sharp and thirsty for blood,” Derek said before shaking the blood off the blade toward Ben and returning the knife to the sheath. He stashed the weapon in his saddlebag and told his friends, “Let’s ride.” The bikers restarted their motorcycles, made a U-turn on Main Street, and headed away from the scouts.
“Don’t worry, boys,” one of the scouts’ adult leaders said, speaking loud enough to be heard by the entire troop. “They’re just showing off and won’t waste their time driving up the canyon to bother us. We won’t see them again.”
The scouts watched the bikers ride a few blocks and then turn toward Payson Canyon. Ben knew that Derek wouldn’t consider the drive a waste of time after spending the previous five years in prison. And Derek had made it clear that he wanted revenge.
CHAPTER 32
Be prepared. That’s what the Boy Scout motto challenged Ben to do in this situation. He took Derek’s threat as much more than a mere taunt. During the drive to Payson Canyon, Ben set a plan for how to deal defend himself. He would wrap his Army-surplus web belt around his waist and attach his large hunting knife and sharp hatchet to it. He intended to make it clear to Derek that he was ready to fight even though he had no chance of winning the duel.
When the troop arrived at the campsite, the scramble began for the best spots to pitch tents. Joe selected an area for the Hawks and held it while the rest of the patrol members hauled their gear from
the scoutmaster’s truck. They set up their tents about thirty yards from the center of the camp. The Bears took the prime real estate—the closest to the parking area—while the Wolves staked out their turf behind the Bears. The scoutmaster selected a spot between the Bears and Wolves.
The Hawk patrol members stayed away from the jousting for domination. They didn’t mind being considered in third place if the other scouts left them out of their contest. The Hawks’ campsite was somewhat rocky but close to a wooded area, which came in handy in the middle of the night when needing an all-natural latrine. They pitched their tents quickly to allow time for a short hike before cooking the evening meal. With a snowstorm expected to hit the mountains before morning, this hike might be their only chance to explore the canyon during the campout.
While the other patrols continued to argue about the layout of their campsites, the Hawks finished setting up theirs and Joe told the scoutmaster that they would return from their hike in less than an hour. The hike began on the road used to reach the campsite, with the Hawks heading up the canyon. About twenty minutes into the hike, they heard the unmistakable sound of motorcycle engines coming down the canyon road toward them.
“Uh, let’s go back to the camp,” Joe said as he came to an abrupt stop. “We probably should stay close to the rest of the troop.”
“Why? Do you think it’s that ex-con and his buddies?” asked Jerry Kearns, the youngest scout in the patrol.
“Might be,” Joe said. “Better turn back now.”
Nobody objected to Joe’s plan and the scouts immediately reversed their course. Ben glanced at his belt and grimaced, noticing that he had forgotten to attach his hunting knife and hatchet. As the noise of the motorcycles grew louder, the scouts picked up their pace.
“Let’s hide!” Jerry shouted when the sound seemed to be on top of them. He expressed exactly what the rest of the patrol had been thinking and triggered a dash off the road.
Ben crouched behind a large clump of twisted mesquite bushes and sagebrush that would prevent anyone seeing him from the road. The rest of the patrol spread out looking for places to hide. Within seconds, the noise from the bikes intensified, making it clear they were passing by. Ben peeked out from his hiding place and could see Derek and his friends slowing down and looking toward where the scouts had retreated.
His ability to see the bikers warned Ben that they could probably see him, so he dropped to the ground and stayed below the top of the mesquite bush in front of him. While on the ground, he turned sideways and looked for the other Hawks. He noticed that three of them had no idea how to play “hide and seek.” They stood behind small, thin trees that only partially covered their bodies. One of them wore a red jacket, which Derek and his friends could easily notice.
Ben remained hidden until the sound of the bikes had passed them and then shouted and waved for the highly visible boys to get down. Instead of taking cover, they walked into the open. Knowing Derek well, Joe and Ben stayed in their hiding places.
“Hey, come on out! They didn’t see us!” Fred shouted. “We’re safe.”
“Get down and be quiet,” Ben said. “How do you know they didn’t see you? They’re probably turning around and coming back right now because you did such a crappy job hiding.”
As Ben predicted, the sound of the motorcycles stopped going away from the scouts and came back up the canyon. “Let’s run for the mountain!” Ben shouted, pointing at the steep hillside and taking steps in that direction.
Joe had a different plan. “No, find new hiding places and everybody shut up!”
All the Hawks obeyed their patrol leader and scurried to new, nearby locations. Ben found a place where erosion had created a small gully and dropped into it.
He could barely see the road from this position with the top of his head being the only part of him that might be visible to someone on the road. To correct that problem, he broke a small leafy branch from a scrub oak bush and placed it on his head. He had confidence that the branch served as camouflage. Because he hid farther from the road than the other Hawks, Ben could see most of their backs.
The bikers stopped on the road near the scouts and silenced their motorcycles. Ben spotted Derek and his friends about a minute later when they walked into the small clearing near the scouts. Derek’s tall, thin friend, Luke, pointed at the ground as the men moved forward, using footprints in the sandy soil to track the boys.
Jerry noticed the men approaching him and took off running downhill toward the campsite. Derek laughed and asked, “Hey, pal, where are you going? Are you afraid of something?”
Jerry didn’t respond and soon disappeared. Ben held his spot, feeling confident that he hadn’t been seen and doubted that he would be found before the rest of the patrol had been flushed out.
Derek spoke loudly in his casual drawl, saying, “Boys, we stopped because we noticed someone hiding in the bushes and wanted to make sure nothing bad is going on.”
Ben watched the bikers follow footprints to Fred’s hiding place. Fred bolted when the men came close. He deserted the patrol, heading in the same direction as Jerry.
“What’s going on here? Why do you boys keep running away?” Derek asked while scanning the woods for the next frightened rabbit to scurry away.
Evening had nearly arrived, but there was still too much daylight to move without being seen. Ben waited for a better chance to escape.
“We’re only trying to make sure that everybody out here is safe,” Derek said while Luke pointed out footprints that led the men to George, Ben’s neighborhood friend.
Derek, Luke, and Wayne briefly whispered to each other and then spread out as they approached the spot where George knelt behind a small boulder. As Wayne went directly toward the boulder, Derek and Luke moved to opposite sides. They set up a trap. Unless George ran toward the mountain, one of the men would catch him.
Spooked by Wayne who approached him directly, George jumped up and started to run toward the campsite, but his jacket caught on a tree branch. The delay created by the snag allowed Luke to grab George by the shoulders.
“Son, slow down,” Luke said. “You’re going to tear your nice jacket.”
After freeing him from the tree’s grip, Luke retained his hold on George while Derek approached them.
“Man, relax,” Derek said. “Like I told you, we’re only trying to be helpful and make sure nobody is in danger.”
“That’s right, you can never be too careful in these mountains,” Luke said. “Strange characters live out here, robbing hikers and making people disappear.”
Without even taking a punch from Derek, George started to cry, failing to live up to the Scout Law and its requirement for bravery. Ben thought about surrendering to save George from more grief, but he liked the challenge of evading Derek and his friends and wanted to keep playing the game.
“Ah, come on, don’t cry,” Derek said. “What’s your name?”
“George Oaks.”
“George, we need to talk to all of your friends. Can you call them for me?”
“Well, I guess so.”
George cleared his throat and then started shouting all the patrol members’ names in a quivering voice. From two of Ben’s favorite movies—“The Great Escape” and “The Bridge on the River Kwai,” he had an image of how prisoners-of-war should behave. George failed the test, giving up his fellow soldiers without spending even a minute in the sweat box.
Despite having his name called, Ben didn’t move, waiting to see what Derek would do. Joe took a different approach. He walked toward trouble and then stopped where Derek could clearly see but not touch him.
“What do you guys really want?” Joe asked. Ben admired his brother’s sensible bravery. Instead of running away, he chose to face the bikers—yet at a safe distance.
“It’s like this,” Derek said, employing an expression that he often used when getting ready to lie. “We were driving by and noticed somebody hiding behind a tree and wondered why anybody wou
ld do that unless they were up to no good. So, we turned our bikes around and came back to check things out.”
Derek paused and looked at his friends. “Isn’t that right?”
“That’s exactly what happened,” Wayne said as if he believed it. “We’re good citizens and doing our part to keep kids like you out of trouble.”
“So, tell me,” Derek said, looking at Joe and then scanning the terrain around him. “Why are you weirdos hiding here? I thought you went camping with the rest of the Girl Scouts.”
“We’re just hiking.”
“Wait. Aren’t Girl Scouts supposed to be honest? Why do you keep lying to us?”
“I’m not lying.”
“And that’s another lie. If you aren’t hiding anything, then tell me where your brother is.” At that point, Derek turned and looked directly at Ben who lowered his head as much as possible without losing sight of Derek. Ben assumed he had been spotted and prepared to run in case Derek charged his hiding place.
“I don’t know. He took off. You know how he wanders away.”
“Wow! Another lie! Or are you blind?”
Derek pointed at Ben’s hiding place and said, “Joe, little Benny is right there. He’s the idiot with the leaves on his head. Still acting like a stupid little goober.”
Joe glanced where Derek pointed but didn’t respond to him.
“Hey, Benny, come on out!” Derek shouted. “We don’t have time to play games today. I want to tell you what it felt like to spend five years in prison because of your lies.”
“Ben, run back to the camp!” Joe shouted.
Ben slowly crawled out of the small gully and walked toward the group. As he made his move, Jeff, the last member of the patrol to be seen, rolled out of a thick cluster of scrub oak and sprinted down the canyon road. Derek made no effort to chase Jeff or send one of his friends after him.
“Please let George go,” Ben said. “Joe and I will stay here and listen to you.”
“Now, you’ve finally turned into a brave scout instead of some frightened sissy hiding in the bushes,” Derek said. He nodded to Luke who released George from his grip.
