He could not understand what he felt. It was not entirely good. He listened to his own breathing, low and even. Nothing could touch them.
_
They entered Aitken State Forest the next day, moving north. All day they plunged through the forest. Weeks of walking had made their strides long and deep. They devoured the hilly terrain, stopping only to drink water and eat a hurried meal. Eric had never felt so close to the island. It no longer seemed a dream, but was real now, attainable.
They hiked to the foot of Bald Mountain and stopped to make camp when Sergio heard it.
"Listen," he said, holding out his hands. They heard nothing. When Lucia said something in Spanish, he shook his head. There was only quiet around them, but Eric drew out his pistol. He had a feeling. He pictured the Land Rover crashing through the forest.
Then he heard it. Distant. Up the mountain somewhere. A chugging, puffing engine.
After quick conferral, the four of them crept slowly up the side of the mountain, following the sound. Around a bend, they saw a wooden shack, under green maple trees. Once it might have been a sugar shack, used for boiling down maple sap into syrup. Now the hole that once vented out the steam was covered with bright blue tarpaulin. Chugging outside was a small, single piston generator. An orange drop cord connected it to the shack like an umbilical cord. They stood transfixed by the oddity of it. Eric hardly had time to pull out his pistol before the old man came out the door.
He was carrying a metal pan of water when he walked out the door. Seeing the .22 pointed at him, he dropped the pan to the ground.
They stared at each other to the beat of the chugging engine.
_
"I was digging a new hole for the generator," the old man explained. "The old one was filling with water. I didn't figure having it outside just two or three days would do no harm. Go figure, heh?" He looked at them and smiled. Most of his teeth were missing, and those left were brown. "Just goes to show you," he said, wagging a wrinkled finger at Birdie, "wherever you find luck, you find bad luck." Birdie just stared at the old man.
They were standing outside the shack. After the first few moments of shock, Eric had lowered his gun. The old man was bent and mostly bald, except for a few spider silk strands of gray hair. Perhaps to make up for this, he had grown a long silver beard that was discolored yellow around his mouth. His face was round and drooped with age, but his eyes glinted and shined. His nose was slightly crooked and had several large bristles of hair poking from it.
He introduced himself as Remember, and when they looked at him incredulously, he laughed, a deep, carefree rumble, and assured them the name had a long and illustrious history in Vermont. "I'm practically tradition," he said. “But I’m not, Tradition’s my sister!” He laughed at what seemed a very old joke. He ended his laughter with a loud cough and then spit loudly on the ground.
Remember told them his history, which, like all personal histories now, it seemed, began with the outbreak. About the time they stared fire bombing Houston, he had a feeling it was all going to get worse. ("Just a feeling", he said, "a prem-O-nition.") He remembered his father taking him to this old shack when he was young to watch the syrup being stirred in great aluminum tables. He decided to stay there until the epidemic stopped. Of course it never did. Now, he only went back to towns to get supplies. "It ain't bad," he told them. "I've always lived alone anyhow."
Now, as a show of faith, they handed him a can of creamed corn and he eyed it with hungry eyes. "I can make a chowder with this," he said hungrily. He looked up at them with flashing, greedy eyes. "I got Buster and Lady Boomer to help me out with milk." He pushed a thumb over his shoulder and they saw the two goats. The goats were fenced in with chicken wire stapled to trees. Both goats looked at the new group with staring indifference. "Now," said Remember, "I got something to show you all." He winked at them and waved them toward the shack. He walked back and turned toward them. "Come on," he said, waving encouragingly. "You're going to like this." He vanished inside the house.
"I'm getting my own prem-O-nition about this guy," Sergio said. "You ever hear those stories about kids being lured into an old shack?"
"He's okay," Eric said. For some reason, he was thinking about Charlie. It seemed years ago. Like a flash of pure, perfect memory, he saw Charlie again, gurgling out his last breath. He shook it off with difficulty.
Lucia agreed with him, so, after a fearful sigh from Sergio, they walked inside.
And immediately saw Remember's secret.
_
"This one here is all about these kids, right?" Remember held up a VHS tape to Birdie. "They're going to lose their homes unless they find a pirate's treasure."
"Pirate treasure?" Birdie looked at the cover of the movie with awe. Remember cackled and let Birdie hold the movie.
They stood inside the shack, crowded, shoulder to shoulder. Inside the shack was a leather sofa with several blankets piled on top of it. The sofa faced a very large television. Eric had never seen such a large television before in his life. On one side of the wall was a small hot plate, surrounded by dishes, and underneath a small shelf, what looked like a few cans of food and some sacks of flour or rice.
The remainder of the shack was taken up by Remember's secret. From the ceiling to the floor, all around three walls of the house, opening up only for a couple narrow windows, were stacked hundreds and hundreds of VHS tapes. Horror, action, comedies, documentaries, all stacked one on the other. On the floor in front of the television, amidst a web of wire, was a VHS player, still as a patient spider.
"Look here," Remember said, flourishing his arms. "I got damn near every movie there ever was!" He laughed, proud of his collection. "I been to every video store I could find in Vermont, searching for new movies. I reckon this is about all there is." When he looked at them, his eyes twinkled with passion. "All night, all I do is watch movies. That's all!" He crossed his arms and stood up straight and proud. "Hell, turned out the end of the world weren't too bad for me. I got everything I need. Fine comfortable place to sleep, big ole TV, and more movies than I can remember!" He laughed at his own pun. "I tell you what," Remember said. "If you folk help me dig a new pit for my generator, you're welcome to watch any movie you want! Any which one as pleases you!"
"This one!" Birdie exclaimed, holding up the movie Remember had given her. "Can we, Eric? Please?"
They looked at each other and then Eric turned to Remember. "All right," he said, holding out his hand. "You have a deal."
_
Remember was not like Charlie. Eric wondered if the old man had gone a little crazy. Sometimes, when they paused in the digging of the pit, Remember would turn to the two goats and say something, just as if they were having a conversation. "I ain't going to make that mistake this time," he told them once. "Don't you worry none. I'm digging this pit with a drain." The goats looked at him with empty curiosity.
Eric and Sergio worked with rusty spades while Lucia hauled away buckets of dirt. Birdie and Remember stood to one side and watched, Remember giving directions. The pit they dug had a small, cone-shaped bottom. Remember lined it with a hard plastic made from sleds. The bottom of the cone was drained with PVC pipe that Remember had already installed. The pipe ran downhill and emptied in a large, blue plastic container. Over the cone, they put a steel grate and then a steel mesh over that. On this, Remember poured gravel. Finally, over the gravel was placed a wooden palette. The four of them slowly lowered the generator down into the pit, using ropes and a triangular wooden frame over the pit. They set it steadily in it's new home. When they were done and the wire was strung up out of the ground to the house, Remember cackled happily, and cranked the generator to a puttering, chuffing start. As a last step, he stuck a pipe from the engine up through the pit, to allow for exhaust and fresh air, and then, over everything he laid down a sheet of heavy plywood. Even though the generator chugged right beneath them, they could hardly hear the sound. Eric thought the old man had a mind for practicality. He
would need to think like him when they arrived at the island.
Remember smiled and clapped their backs and told them how much work they had saved him. "That'll keep them sons a bitches away," he said to the goats, who did not answer. Eric didn't know who he meant, but he didn't need to. The Minutemen? Some other gang? Did it matter? For another, painful moment, he could see Charlie again, sitting by his fire with a book on his lap. He smelled Charlie, a woody, spicy smell, and his heart lurched.
They stood over the covered pit, sweating and breathing hard. Remember looked at them. "I got to thank you folks," he said. "I would've broke my back doing this myself. Nearly killed myself moving that TV up here. I couldn’t hardly move. Near starved to death. Back ain't been right since either."
"You're welcome," said Lucia. "Glad to help. I have to say, we're looking forward to some chowder and a movie."
Remember smiled. "Well, it's the least I can do," he said. "I'm just plain lucky you guys come along. Plain lucky."
_
The tang of goat's milk in the chowder seemed sweet to them. Remember had also made a batch of soft biscuits, which came steaming from an oven that Eric had missed before. Now they dunked the fresh biscuits in the chowder. As they ate, Eric blinked off memories of Sarah and the soup she had made for them. In his mind, her bones still smoked on the mountain. He shuffled in his seat uncomfortably.
They had fresh blueberry jam over hot biscuits for dessert. While they ate, Remember showed Birdie how to put the movie in the VHS player. The machine clicked and whirred when Birdie pushed the play button. When the television screen flickered, rolled, and then came to life, Birdie let out a cry of pleasure. Eric thought of Brad, how he had loved movies, how he would loved this, but he too was gone, his body burnt to ashes on the shore of Mosquito Creek Lake. Eric swallowed. The golden light from the television flickered over them.
Eric had seen the movie before. Glenn had gone to the movies with him to see it. It was the first time they met after school and Eric had been nervous. At the time, he had no friends. Everyone avoided Daffy Fuck as if obesity was a plague. Glenn was a tall, rigid boy with a great, wide mouth. His brown hair was festooned with cow licks. Whenever he spoke, his teeth seemed to strain against the several pounds of braces that bound them. He spoke rarely and when he did, he usually followed what he said with a barking laugh. They called him Chewbacca because of how often he impersonated the character, bending his neck back and letting out a cry with uncanny precision. Glenn thought the name was a compliment. It wasn't. He was avoided also, but he hardly noticed. The outside world didn't seem to quite penetrate Glenn's world. He was always smiling, always ready with a joke. Eric never saw him ashamed or humiliated. He was so nervous before the meeting at the movies, he couldn't eat the whole day before. His stomach was knotted painfully, and the night before, he had prayed that he would not do or say anything to make Glenn dislike him. His mother had seen this and held him close. "You worry too much," she said. "Anyone that gets to know you will see what a great person you are, Eric." She kissed him. "You'll see."
Now, as Birdie and Lucia and Sergio laughed, Eric remembered Glenn's booming laughter in the theater, how it had scared him at first, but then, little by little, he had joined in, and it was as simple as that. Glenn was his first friend. Now, Glenn was. Now Glenn was. What was Glenn? What had happened to him? It was worse somehow, not knowing, worse than the memory of Jessica, shot in the street.
Maybe he was alive. Maybe, like him, he had hid away from the Vaca B. Why hadn't he searched for him? Why hadn't he gone to his house? Fear. Cowardice.
When the movie finally ended, Eric was relieved. The others were laughing and smiling, and Remember looked as proud as if he himself had made the movie. Birdie was the most excited. She sat facing them, telling them what she had seen as if they had not been watching it too.
"And he had springs in his jacket!" Birdie recounted with a bright laugh. "It was so funny!" She talked excitedly at them all, but especially Eric. "That was the best movie!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. "The best one ever!"
Eric nodded his head, smiling, but felt no pleasure.
Finally, when they all settled on the floor with their sleeping bags and Remember had shut down the generator, when there was only the quiet sounds of sleep around him, Eric searched in his backpack. He found the book he had taken from Charlie's house. The pages were warped and stained from the hike, and the book was bent and discolored. Eric flipped past the introduction to the first chapter.
"Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life," Eric read, "or whether that station will be held by anyone else, these pages must show."
He had read this sentence a hundred times, but little else. He had a hard time getting past this thought.
_
Eric woke suddenly to the sound of birds at the window. He had seen them in his dreams, multi-colored birds, flapping at the window, beating their wings against the glass to get inside. His mouth seemed full of feathers. Then he focused and blinked and sat up in the darkness of the shack, and realized it was only a dream. There were no birds at the window. But the sound of their wings remained.
Eric looked about him in the gloaming light of the first dawn, and saw, faintly, a crouching figure in the darkness. He knew it was not any of them, he had been with Lucia and Sergio and Birdie so long, he would recognize their figures anywhere. It was a malignant, crooked figure, like some troll. Eric's heart shrieked when he realized it was going through their backpacks with the quiet agility of a thief.
"Hey!" Eric cried, springing to his feet. His voice pierced the silence like a knife. "Get away from that!"
The figure leapt away guiltily. Eric stepped forward, his heart filled with rage. "Get away from there!" he shouted.
The others had woken now, and someone flicked on an electric light. The darkness ripped apart. The figure stood revealed in front of Eric. It was Remember, and he looked terrified.
"What're you doing?" shouted Eric. "What're you doing in our bags?"
"Calm down," the old man said, trying to smile. "I was looking for some aspirin is all," he said. "My teeth hurt something awful."
"What're you doing in our stuff?" Eric cried again, as if the old man hadn't said anything.
"I told you," Remember said. "Just calm down, son, I didn't want to wake none of you."
"You're a thief!" Eric yelled.
"Eric," Lucia said. She stepped to his side and put a hand on his arm, but Eric slapped it away without looking at her. His eyes flashed at Remember.
"You're a thief," he hissed. "You're a goddamn thief!" Remember swallowed and looked at Lucia and Sergio as if for help. This enraged Eric more. "You think we're stupid? You think we're going to come in here and let you steal everything we have?" Eric moved toward him and Remember stepped back, stumbling over a pile of VHS tapes. The sight made Birdie begin to cry. "What would you have done if you found something you wanted?" Eric stepped toward him again. "Then what, huh? Knife us in our sleep?"
"I swear," Remember said, holding up his hands. "I swear to you, I just wanted some aspirin." He smiled a broken smile at them. "It's my teeth," he explained. "They give me all sorts of pain."
"Is that right?" Eric asked, his voice a hiss. "Why not ask us before you went to bed?"
"Didn't hurt then," Remember said weakly.
"Eric, calm down," Lucia said, but she didn't approach him this time. "Just calm down."
Eric ignored her, his whole body trembling with fury. "You think we need this shit?" he cried. "You think you can lure us in here with your goddamn television and movies and steal from us?"
Remember shook his head. His shining eyes were wide.
Eric stalked to the kitchen and picked up a huge, iron pan. "You think we're going to be fooled?" he cried.
"Stop it, Eric!" Lucia yelled.
Eric hurled the pan into the TV. There was a burst of bright light and a horrible sucking sound. Then the room was sprayed with foul smelling glass. T
he television was a smoking ruin, a dark mouth filled with shards of teeth.
Remember howled with pain. He stumbled to the television and then rested his forehead on it like it was a dead thing. "What'd you do that for?" he moaned. "Look at what you done!" He began weeping miserably. "Why'd you do that? Why'd you take that from me? It's all I got! Why'd you do that?" Remember sobbed then, holding his arms around his head.
While the old man cried, the others wordlessly gathered up their belongings.
"Why'd you do that?" Remember asked again, turning his blue eyes toward them. "I nearly broke myself getting this here. I'll never have another like it. Why'd you do that to an old man?"
Eric turned and stalked out the door. Birdie followed, still crying. She kept crying as they walked away into the forest, her breath coming in painful, deep gasps. Later she picked up Remember's terrible refrain. "Why'd you do that?" she asked. She continued asking for a long time, but Eric said nothing.
16
__________
White Mountain National Forest
VERMONT WAS BEAUTIFUL. It seemed there were more birds now, fluttering everywhere, singing loudly at dawn. Birds that Eric had never seen before and birds he knew by name like cardinals and chickadees and buzzing Ruby-throated hummingbirds. Forced by steep hills to follow rivers and roads, they found themselves on old farm lands. The grass grew high without cows to graze them. Evidently cows could not survive without humans. Goats could, however, and pigs. Sometimes they would see a great bristling pig appear at the edge of the woods and eye them with ambivalent malice. Pigs were mostly solitary, but the goats moved in herds. But there were not many of them, and they looked harried and stressed and not long for the world. The howling dogs at night and the yips of coyotes boded nothing but extinction to what remained of human husbandry. Only the pigs would remain, turned back to boars, with great bristles and tusks, reclaiming their dignity as if their slavery had never happened.
The World Without Crows Page 21
