by Ike Hamill
“Jesus, fuck,” Jack heard a voice far behind yell. He stood perfectly still and heard a car door slam. Moving to his left, he tried to skirt the wet area as the dog plowed through the mud. He shushed at the dog to no avail. When he reached a dry spot, Jack started to run. He figured he was moving approximately parallel to the road.
**********
Ben lifted his finger from the “Send” button and looked at Stephen.
“Do you think that’s enough?” Ben asked. Stephen was poking his head over the lip of the pit, watching Smoker and Bag Man.
“I guess so,” Stephen replied. “There’s really know way to know, unless the guy answers back.”
“Let’s wait a minute and see if anyone picks up,” said Ben.
They both turned their attention to the guys with the gun. Bag Man was arranging the dead body of the cat. A second later, he trotted away and joined Smoker again. They watched intently until a small explosion lifted the dead cat from the ground. They laughed and ran over to see the damage.
“Those guys are like movie-evil,” said Stephen. “It’s like a gag — I mean who would be that sick?”
“Look!” said Ben.
Down in the pit, Smoker and Bag Man broke off their game with the fireworks and dead cat and made their way towards an approaching man. They met up at the spot the boys had dubbed The Salt Flats, and had a lively conversation. The older guy was gesturing and pointing back towards the parking area. Smoker nodded and tucked his gun back in his waistband. The three then stalked off in the direction of the car.
“Do you think that was the guard?” asked Stephen.
“Must be, but why would they even have a guard?” asked Ben.
“We should get ready, in case we have to make a quick getaway,” said Stephen.
Ben and Stephen worked quickly to pack up their supplies and don their backpacks. Ben carried the walkie-talkie, and Stephen carried Jack’s pack. The two headed down the hill.
“You know, we’re just as likely to miss him if we move — maybe we should stay put,” said Ben.
Footsteps coming up the hill made them stop. They were joined by the exuberant yellow labrador whose muddy tail slapped at their legs. Following close behind, Jack met up with them next.
“They had this dog in their car,” said Jack. “We should get out of here.”
“Are we taking this dog with us?” asked Ben. “Your mom will shit.”
“We’ll figure that out after we get away from here,” said Jack.
“Yeah, let’s get gone,” agreed Stephen.
The boys consulted briefly on direction and then jogged off into the woods.
**********
Back at the tent, Jack examined the collar on the dog.
“He’s got a rabies tag, and a state registration,” said Jack. “No address or anything. I thought I'd seen him before, but now I'm not sure.”
“There must be someone we could call,” said Ben. “We’ll just say he wandered up to the house.”
“What if he belongs to one of those guys though?” asked Stephen.
“Jesus, would someone do that to their own dog? Nobody would do that,” said Ben.
“You never know,” said Jack. “Maybe we should think about it.”
“Well, even if it is connected to those guys, would they know that we grabbed the dog?” asked Ben. “You said that you left the door cracked — maybe they just thought the dog got out by accident.”
“Shit! The walkie-talkie! We should have grabbed it,” said Jack.
Stephen shook his head — “No way, we’ll go back for it. They might already have it, but either way, we should wait until night or something to go find it.”
The boys played with the dog and discussed their options for the rest of the afternoon. They settled on a secret night-trip through the woods and planned their assault. Leaving the dog at the tent, they went inside to use the computer to check on the moon rise and weather information.
Armed with notes on the time and date to make their next trip, the boys were about to head outside when Jack’s mom interrupted them. She had found the dog nosing around the back door.
“Do you boys know anything about this dog?” she asked.
“What dog?” Jack played dumb.
“There’s a big dog sitting outside the back door, and I don’t even have to get close to you to see dog hair all over your shirts,” she countered.
“It showed up this morning. We just played with it for a little bit — it didn’t have any name or address on its collar,” said Jack.
“Well is it registered?” she asked.
“I think so.”
“Then we’ll call over to the town hall,” she said. “I’m sure its owners are looking for it. You can help me by looking on its collar for a registration number.”
“Okay,” said Jack.
**********
Dinner that night was one of the mandatory family dinners. Jack, Ben, and Stephen sat uncomfortably at the table with Jack’s parents. They ate quickly and quietly — anxious to be away from adult supervision.
“Tell your dad the exciting news of the day,” said Jack’s mom.
“Huh?” asked Jack — a little panicked.
“The dog,” prompted Ben with a whisper.
“Oh, yeah, a dog showed up here today.”
Jack’s mom took over the story: “His name is Buddy. The town hall sent over animal control because the Harrisions are out of town. It’s their dog, but they had dog walkers while they’re on vacation. At any rate, he’ll be staying with the Harrison’s vet until they get back.”
“How did he get over here? Don’t the Harrisons live on the other side of the highway?” Jack’s dad asked. Jack's parents knew everyone in town because of his father’s business and his mother’s former association with the town hall.
“Well, Linda said that Buddy sometimes wanders,” said Jack’s mom.
“Who was walking him? They must have been embarrassed.”
“She didn’t say,” Jack’s mom replied.
**********
That night the boys stayed inside — spreading out sleeping bags on the floor in the basement. They scheduled their nighttime mission to recover the walkie-talkie for the night after next so they could have the right moon and clear weather.
**********
Without his sling, Jack felt free. All three boys were nervous and excited, but Jack was beyond excited, he was beside himself. Unable to sleep, they engaged in scattered conversation that roamed easily from subject to subject. They kept the lights off so their eyes would adjust to the dark. The moon illuminated the walls of the tent, and the shadows of trees danced. The night was warm but comfortable, with a slight breeze.
A little after midnight Jack poked his head from the tent. He crept around the bushes between their tent and the house and studied carefully, looking for any sign that his parents were still awake. When he was satisfied, he summoned Ben and Stephen.
The beginning of their trip was very slow as they dodged from shadow to shadow. They wore their darkest clothing and carried little: Ben had their remaining walkie-talkie, and Jack and Stephen carried flashlights that were turned off. They picked their way along the path by the moonlight.
Having started out tentative and silent, they adjusted quickly to the hike. Jack led the way and he soon began to trust his ability to move down the path without being able to fully discern the way ahead. Stephen followed Jack, and Ben followed Stephen.
“Hey, you guys ever hear about that snake last summer?” asked Ben.
“Are you just trying to scare everyone?” asked Jack.
“No, seriously, you didn’t hear?” said Ben. “Last summer this guy’s six-foot boa got out of his house and lived in the woods for weeks.”
“Shut up!” said Stephen. “That’s the oldest story ever.”
“Whatever, you don’t have to believe me. Some guy almost hit it driving down Kirkpatrick Road.” maintained Ben.
“Oh, wa
it — I heard about that,” said Jack.
“You guys are full of shit,” said Stephen.
“Really. I saw the picture in the paper,” replied Jack. “The worst part was that when they caught it, it got upset and disgorged.”
“Yeah, that’s the one,” agreed Ben. “Snakes get scared and throw up so they can run away.”
“Well I do know about that,” said Stephen, “but I still say you’re full of shit.”
“Anyway,” continued Ben, “what they didn’t say on the news was that it disgorged a whole baby.”
“No way!” said Stephen.
“Yup, a baby,” said Ben. “The thing had eaten the girlfriend’s baby just before it got away.”
“Now you’ve gone too far,” said Jack. “I remember the snake, but there’s no way it ate a baby.”
“Hey,” added Stephen, “you know what they call it when someone tries to scare their friends at night in the middle of the woods?”
“What?” asked Ben.
“It’s a rare condition,” said Stephen. “It’s called ‘douche-ism’.”
“Yup,” said Jack. “You’ve got the douche-ism, Ben. Worst case I’ve seen in years.”
“You might be in luck though, looks like we’re out of the woods for now,” said Stephen.
The sky opened up as the path led to the power-line cut. They were suddenly surrounded by a full dome of stars. The sky was so black and deep that Jack almost lost his balance. Out in the open, with more light from the moon, they talked less and walked faster through the night.
When they got to the quarry where they had witnessed the shooting, Stephen convinced his friends to go to the floor of the pit. They peered around carefully into the darkness and then dared to use their lights. Stephen combed the ground where they had seen Smoker and bag-man cavorting. His prize was four shell-casings — one small and the other three large. Pocketing the casings, they headed towards where the car had been parked.
Rounding a sharp corner of the quarry, Ben, in the lead, stopped abruptly.
“What?” hissed Jack.
Ben pointed and Jack could barely make out a dim red glow ahead. They stood stock-still for minutes, taking shallow breaths and collecting all the sensory input they could. Ben began to move again. When Jack and Stephen began to follow, Ben turned and held up his hand, signaling them to stop. Ben continued alone. He returned several minutes later.
“Campfire,” Ben said. “It’s almost out.”
The three approached cautiously and found what Ben had described. The few pieces of wood left were scattered. Someone had attempted to put the fire out some time before. Silent, they continued cautiously until they found the parking area empty.
“So where’s the walkie?” asked Ben.
“Hard to say,” replied Jack. “Try yours.”
Ben triggered the call button on the walkie-talkie and they were rewarded with a faint ringing off in the bushes. The boys had to search carefully — rationing their battery power on both the walkie-talkies and the flashlight — before finding the lost radio.
“Awesome,” said Jack. “Now let’s get back before my mom catches us.”
With renewed purpose, the boys headed back on the long trip to the tent.
**********
When they left the power lines and were back on the path through the woods, they had spread out. Ben led the way, and Jack followed a good twenty feet behind. Even further back, Stephen brought up the rear.
Stephen startled Jack and Ben: “Hey, guys, get over here,” he said.
“Did you find a giant baby-eating snake?” asked Jack.
“Funny,” said Ben.
“You have to see this,” said Stephen.
Jack and Ben back-tracked to find Stephen crouched in the middle of the path and studying the bark of a large tree. Almost at ground-level, a red dot of light glowed on the bark.
“Check that out!” said Ben. “Where’s it coming from?”
Stephen put his hand over the dot and the dot responded by lighting up the back of his hand. Jack bent to get a better look and then began to turn his head.
“Don’t look into it!” ordered Stephen. “It might not be safe for eyes.”
“Good point,” said Jack.
Jack put his hand in front of Stephen’s and then began to move in the direction of the source.
“Oh shit!” said Ben. “Wait, guys! That might be one of those laser-sights for a gun. Get your hand out of the beam.”
The three stood back. Jack spoke first: “Nah, that doesn’t make sense. Why would it be pointed at a tree and be that still. I don’t think someone could hold gun that still.”
Stephen picked up a stick. “Let’s follow it.” He adjusted the stick carefully to center the beam on the end and then began to walk into the woods away from the path. He lost the beam often at first — it rose slowly as he moved away from the tree — but once he guessed its approximate path, he was able to follow it faithfully.
Jack’s eyes were trained on the stick as he backed up, ahead of Stephen.
“Hey,” said Ben, “I’m going to stay here so you don’t get lost.”
“Oh come on,” replied Stephen. “Check your compass, and come with us.”
“You guys have the flashlights,” replied Ben. Jack and Stephen were now about thirty paces from the path, and they kept moving away.
“Shit,” said Ben as he headed into the woods to catch up.
Ben reached his two friends; they were tracking the laser at about knee level.
Crouching ahead, Jack made an observation: “The trees are really thin in this direction. Looks like it opens up to a clearing up ahead.”
“Where are we, anyway?” asked Ben.
“I think this is the spot where the path gets close to Route 203,” answered Jack. “But it’s hard to tell. We’re definitely going to have to check this out again in daylight.”
“Wait — what happened?” asked Stephen. He was looking at his stick, which no longer carried a dot of light.
“Did you move?” asked Ben.
“No, it was right here.”
They strained to look into the night.
“Hold still,” said Jack as he moved in front of the stick. “Do you see anything?” he asked Ben as he looked down at his own body.
Ben studied Jack for signs of the dot. “Nope.”
“Let’s start again,” said Stephen as he dropped his stick and headed back in the direction they started.
Jack dug around in his front pocket and produced a knife. He moved to the nearest sapling and took a small strip of bark from its side. Jack followed Stephen and Ben — he marked their track back to the path. Jack arrived at the path to find Ben and Stephen on their knees.
“This was the one,” said Stephen. “I’m sure of it.”
“How can you tell?” asked Ben. “It’s too dark to see anything.”
“This tree is way bigger than the rest though, and it’s right next to the path,” said Stephen.
“I’ll mark it,” said Jack. He moved around to the side they would first see when approaching the next day. At about shoulder height he scraped a section of the tree. He couldn’t make his way down to the tree’s flesh, but flicked on his flashlight to verify that his mark was visible.
“Let’s get going,” said Jack.
“Let’s wait,” countered Stephen. “Maybe it will come back on, or maybe a little tree or something just blew in the way.”
“I’m tired,” said Jack.
Ben agreed — “Yeah, let’s go back and we’ll come back in the morning.”
“Shit,” said Stephen. “This is really cool though.”
“We’ll figure it out tomorrow,” said Jack.
They hiked back to their tent and barely spoke the whole way. The night’s exploits had taken their toll, and the boys were dog-tired by the time they got in their sleeping bags.
**********
Every few days, Jack’s mom would break the privacy of their back-y
ard campsite and check in on the boys. This morning she found they were still fast asleep in the tent, so she quietly gathered their laundry and the few pieces of trash scattered around the site. She was trying to top off a load of light clothing, but she found mostly darks around the sleeping trio. The pants were wet around the cuff, but she explained to herself that they must have been playing in a creek.
**********
They awoke late, and very hungry. Ben looked at his watched and announced that it was Sunday, July 8th — 9:30 am.
“Nine days,” said Stephen.
“What’s nine days?” asked Jack.
“I go back on Tuesday the seventeenth,” replied Stephen.
“That sucks,” said Jack. He surprised himself, realizing that he meant it. Just a few days before he would have relished the realization that half of Stephen’s time had passed.
“Ah, don’t think about it,” said Ben. “Time only passes quickly if you think about it.”
“Isn’t that like the opposite of true?” posed Stephen. “You know, like, a watched pot never boils.”
“Whatever. Let’s get something to eat,” said Jack.
They were greeted with a gray day outside the tent. And, rummaging through their supplies, realized they had neglected to keep their larder well stocked. Desperate for a warm meal, they headed into the house. In the the kitchen, they began noisily producing a breakfast. Jack’s mom appeared from upstairs.
“Jack — your dad wants to see you. His office,” she said.
Jack handed his spatula to Ben, who took over on the pancake duty. He followed his mom through the living room to the addition where his dad had an office. His dad was sitting at the computer.
“Jack — what are these?” his dad pointed at four shell casings sitting atop a file folder on the desk.
“Bullets? Or casings, I mean. We found them at the pits,” said Jack.
“Which pits?” his dad asked.
Jack looked back over his shoulder. His mom was standing in the doorway with her eyebrows raised. “The quarry, past the power lines,” he paused. “We hiked over there the other day.”
