“You boys got any cheese for me today?” Jeanette said.
“No cheese,” Winn said, looking from the dog to her. She wore thick glasses that made her eyeballs look very small. Then he turned to look at Brent, who glanced at him. Seeing Winn’s smile, he smiled back.
“Don’t you little pricks laugh at me, I can see you!” Jeanette said. “Get ’em, Ears! Ears! Get ’em!”
Winn watched as Ears lifted his small head from the ground, looked up at them, and put it back down.
“Like I told you,” Winn whispered to Brent.
“Don’t you go whispering around me, I know the dirty things you boys say,” Jeanette said, her voice rising in pitch and volume. “You both need to learn respect. If you come around here again, I’ll box your ears.”
“Brent lives over there,” Winn said, turning to her and pointing down the drive at Brent’s trailer. “We have to go by here to get to his home.”
“No, you don’t,” Jeanette said, struggling to rise up out of her chair. Her long brown hair had been haphazardly pinned to her head, and it made her look crazy, especially when she stood and the sunlight hit it. “You can go the long way around, and leave me in peace!”
“We’re not going the long way,” Winn said. “This is our street too.”
“You’ll go around if you know what’s good for you! I’ll sic my dog on you!”
“If Ears comes anywhere near me, I’m gonna kick him!” Brent said, feeling bold with Winn by his side.
Winn turned to him. “No, you’re not. If you kick him, she’ll call the cops.”
“Oh, don’t hurt my doooog,” she said, drawing out the word as she finished standing up. She was suddenly near tears, looking right and left. “Have you seen him? Have you seen my doooog?”
“He’s right there, behind you,” Winn said, pointing.
“Oh!” she said, turning to see Ears resting on the ground. She bent over slowly and scooped up the dog. “Go on, you troublemakers.” She started waddling back to her trailer.
Winn turned back to Brent. “See? She’s so old, she can’t even remember her dog is right there next to her. And Ears could care less that we were here. I don’t know what you’re so afraid of.”
“She swears at me sometimes,” Brent said, walking down the street toward his trailer.
“What does she say?” Winn asked.
“I’m not allowed to repeat it,” Brent said.
“Come on, tell me,” Winn said, following him. “Swearing doesn’t bother me.”
Brent looked around to see if anyone might overhear him. He leaned forward to Winn, and whispered, “She called me a cocksucker.”
Winn snickered. Brent pulled back and looked angry.
“What?” Winn said. “It’s funny.”
“Not to me,” Brent said, turning and continuing down the street.
“She’s really just a crazy old woman who says funny things,” Winn said, sincerely trying to ease Brent’s concerns about Jeanette so he could walk past her without being afraid. “You should just laugh at her, like I do.”
“You think everything is funny,” Brent said as he reached his trailer. “Some things are serious.”
“Yeah, but not her,” Winn said.
“Same time tomorrow?” Brent said.
“Brent!” came a loud male voice from the window of his trailer. They both knew it was Brent’s father. “Get in this house right now!”
Winn saw a panicked look pass over Brent’s face. Brent handed him the mini mag light he was carrying, and then he turned and ran to the door of their trailer, waving to Winn as he stepped inside. Winn looked up at the trailer, and was startled when he could faintly make out the face of Brent’s father in the open window, staring at him through the screen. He looked both stern and calm at the same time, standing as still as a statue. He’s been looking at me, Winn thought, and it scared him. The dark eyes seemed angry. A day of stubble on his face made him look tough and mean.
“You get on out of here,” the face said.
Winn turned and ran back toward his trailer. He checked his watch: it was six-ten. They were late getting home.
Winn knew his mom didn’t care about him ever being home, but he knew Brent’s father was a stickler about it. He hoped Brent wouldn’t get grounded.
He ran all the way to his trailer, and when he found it was locked, he used his key to get in. He immediately heard the moans from the back of the trailer, and knew his mother was entertaining someone in her bedroom.
Not wanting to hear more, he grabbed his CD Walkman and ran back out the door. He decided to climb the back of the trailer and up into the tree, to lie for a while on the platform up in the branches. He took care to step lightly as he scaled the back of the trailer, but he could feel the trailer rocking under him as he climbed, and he knew his mother was too occupied to notice him, even if he were to be noisy about it.
Once he pulled himself up and onto the platform, he kneeled and checked the CD in the Walkman – same disc he’d had in it for weeks now. He turned it on and put the headphones over his head. He had a view of the trailer court, and he glanced down to Brent’s trailer, wondering if he was in trouble for being late. He looked over to Jeanette’s trailer – she had not come back out yet. She usually spent most of the evening outside, slowly sipping on a bottle of booze. She’ll be back out soon enough, he thought.
As the spacy guitar strains of the first song grew louder in his head, he turned to the left and looked down toward Gale’s trailer. He was sure Gale was inside, playing Resident Evil. Part of him wanted to go see if Gale would let him play with him, but another part of him was enjoying being up in the tree, looking down at everything, listening as the acoustic guitar kicked in, and then the drums. Now he didn’t want to stop listening, so he sat back off his knees, onto his butt. He looked to the left again, and saw all the way down to Marty’s trailer. The manicured yard looked perfect, as always. I should show the nickel to Marty, he thought.
The nickel! He lay down fully on the plywood and slipped his hand into his pants pocket, past the mini mag light, and found the coin. He pulled it out, and held it up to his face, examining it. It looked like a normal nickel, shiny and new. As he held it, he felt the same feelings he’d felt earlier, starting in his stomach and radiating out, slowly making him feel happy and calm. When the feelings reached his head, he almost shouted. He felt himself slip out of his body and into the River, turning to watch himself holding the coin. It glowed, but still looked like a nickel. Then an impression came to him; it felt like a voice speaking inside his head, but he couldn’t tell if it was a man’s voice or a woman’s voice. It was loud and clear and strong.
Three days.
He slipped back into his body, felt the edge of the coin pressing into his fingers.
What does three days mean? he wondered. I definitely need to show this to Marty.
He kept looking at the coin, waiting for the feeling to come again. It didn’t. He sat up and placed the coin on the plywood of the platform, watching it carefully. Then he picked it up again.
The feeling came back, once again starting in his stomach and radiating out. He let it pass through him, this time anticipating the overwhelming sense of happiness. He dropped the coin onto the plywood and picked it back up again, feeling the cycle start over. He laid back down on the plywood, and repeated the process, picking up the coin for the feelings to generate, and once they were over, dropping the coin back onto the plywood. He did it over and over, like an addict.
Then he reached for the coin, and it was gone.
He sat up, looking around the platform, searching for the nickel. It wasn’t there. It had disappeared.
He went from a euphoric state to a state of anxiety in seconds. He searched again, but it was nowhere to be seen.
Maybe it rolled off, he thought. I set it down wrong, on its side, and it rolled. It rolled right off the platform, and is under the tree somewhere.
He thought about climbing down t
he tree, but then remembered how the coin had glowed when he was in the River. He let himself slip into the flow, and let his body drift below the treehouse and over the ground just under it. There were grass and weeds at the base of the tree, and around the other side of the trunk was a fence, the boundary of the trailer court. He enjoyed the feeling of drifting right through the fence as he looked for the glow. He couldn’t see it anywhere.
Panic set in. He started over, scanning the ground carefully, methodically going back and forth, looking at the grass while hovering just a couple of inches over it. He passed back through the fence, and kept looking. It wasn’t there.
He searched for several minutes more before he began to worry about being away from his body. He dropped out of the flow and found himself back up on the platform, the headphones still on his head, the music still pounding in his ears, and no nickel anywhere to be seen.
He tried to imagine, given the slight angle of the platform, where the nickel might have rolled. He climbed down, carefully scaling the trailer. His mother was still noisily busy inside. He landed on the ground and walked under the tree, looking this time with his real eyes. He looked up to the platform, to the edge he thought was the most likely part of the treehouse for it to have fallen from. He scoured the ground below it, pulling out weeds and running his fingers through the grass.
It was gone.
He felt horrible, like he’d lost something even better than Brent’s iron door treasure. How could I have been so stupid? he thought. The greatest coin in the world, and I lost it!
It was starting to get dark, and he didn’t feel like climbing back up to the platform, so he walked into the trailer and turned on the TV, turning it up loud so he didn’t have to hear the noises coming from the back. He pouted a little, upset with himself over losing the coin. He had wanted to show it to Brent and Marty. Marty might have even known what it was. Marty seemed to know about strange things, like the River.
Damnit, it’s gotta be out there somewhere, he thought. I’ll look again tomorrow. And if I find it, I won’t be so careless with it next time. I’ll either keep it in my hands, or in my pocket! Nowhere else!
He used the remote to change the channel, flipping through stations, looking for something to take his mind off the lost treasure.
Chapter Five
Winn was itchy all through school the next day. He found Brent during lunch break, and told him he wouldn’t be able to go exploring that night. Brent seemed disappointed but didn’t make a big deal of it, for which Winn was grateful. He wanted to tell Brent about the coin, but not before he got it back and figured it out.
The clock seemed to tick so slowly during the last hour of school. Winn imagined small animals discovering the nickel in the grass and carrying it off. Then he imagined other kids finding it before he could get home. Just his luck someone like Gale would find it. Gale already had more cool stuff than most kids in the trailer park. It would be oh so typical if Gale found it and kept it.
Nah, he thought, watching the large hand of the clock on the wall, seemingly stuck in position. No one ever goes behind our trailer, by that tree. Hardly ever. And it’s just a nickel. Who cares about a nickel anyway?
He remembered the incredible peacefulness and satisfaction the nickel caused to pass through him, and he yearned to hold it again and feel the waves of pleasure and joy. School was like a prison, keeping him from the coin. He had to get out of here. He raised his hand.
“What?” the teacher barked.
“Can I go to the restroom?”
“School is out in five minutes, so no, you can go after,” his teacher replied. “Keep studying.”
Winn turned to look at his open book. There, the preamble to the Constitution was staring back at him. He was supposed to be memorizing it. He didn’t fully understand what domestic tranquility was, but he was confident that justice was being denied to him. In a just world, he would be out of school already and searching for that nickel. He kept running the words through his mind, but they weren’t sticking. When he got to “secure the blessings of liberty,” it made him think of the guy who said, “Give me liberty, or give me death!” That seemed very appropriate at the moment.
Once the bell rang, he grabbed his backpack, careful not to pull on the strap that was beginning to break. He raced to his bike, unlocked it, put his headphones on, and pedaled home. He was able to knock back the first three tracks of Thirteen Tales from Urban Bohemia before he skidded his tires next to his trailer and launched himself toward the base of the tree.
He searched while the rest of the album played. As the tenth track drew to a close, he began to feel that one of his imagined scenarios had come to pass. Someone or something had found the nickel, and now it was gone, forever. He felt like he’d lost something really important, and it irritated him that he lost it because of his own carelessness.
He pulled the headphones from his head and slipped them over the CD Walkman on his belt. He grabbed the mini mag lights from his backpack and walked down the trailer court drive toward Marty’s house. He could use some lemonade. Marty didn’t make it like his wife used to, but he kept cans of it in his fridge. And he could tell Marty about the coin. Maybe he’d have some ideas.
As he walked past Gale’s trailer, he could hear the explosions coming from his open window. How lucky is he? Winn thought. Not only does he have a PS2, he gets to keep it in his bedroom. Play it whenever he likes. Me and Brent need to find that hidden gold mine, so I can get a PS2.
He made his way past several trailers and open spaces, eventually winding up at Marty’s fence. He reached over the gate and lifted the latch, letting himself in. Marty’s front yard, small like every yard next to a trailer, was perfectly maintained. He had one of the few patches of real grass in the entire court. Marty had placed stepping stones like little islands in the sea of grass, so people wouldn’t trample his carefully grown lawn. Winn used them to get to the painted wooden steps Marty had built in front of their trailer door, and knocked.
“Winn!” Marty said cheerfully as he saw his guest. “Come in! Want some lemonade?”
“Sure,” Winn said, stepping into the trailer. He looked around. The outside had always been Marty’s domain, and he kept it immaculate. The inside had been his wife’s area to control, and it had always been cluttered. Winn noticed that Marty had started to de-clutter the place. He imagined that it was hard to do, since all the items probably reminded him of his wife.
“Have a seat, young man,” Marty said, motioning to the dining table. Winn remembered the first time he sat at the table; it had been stacked high with magazines. Now it was clear. He placed the two mini mag lights that Marty had loaned him on the table.
“Here ya go,” Marty said, placing a cold can of lemonade down in front of Winn and cracking open one for himself. As he lowered himself into a chair opposite Winn, he held his back. Winn could tell he was in pain.
“You OK?” Winn asked.
“Just a little back trouble,” Marty answered. “Been getting worse lately. What’s up?”
“I’m kinda bummed.”
“Really? Why?”
“I think I lost something important,” Winn said, looking dejected, as though he was confessing to a crime.
“What?”
“A nickel.”
Marty laughed. He reached into his pocket and removed some change. “Here,” he said, searching through it. He grabbed a nickel and placed it on the table in front of Winn. “My compliments. Feel better?”
“No,” Winn said, looking down at the coin. “This wasn’t an ordinary nickel.”
“Really?”
“I found it when Brent and I went exploring in a cave in the canyon. I swear it wasn’t in my pocket before we went in. The only thing I had was the flashlight. When I came out, the nickel was there.”
“You probably didn’t realize it was there before you went in,” Marty said, sipping at his lemonade.
“No, I think I got the nickel somehow while I w
as in the cave,” Winn said. “I felt something funny when I was in there, so I dropped into the River to check it out. I saw a priest. He spoke in Spanish. And there was another guy who looked messed up. He was holding a mountain lion, draining out its blood.”
“Ah, damn,” Marty said, looking to the side and rubbing his day-old stubble with the palm of his hand. “I shoulda warned you about caves around here. You didn’t tell me you were going into caves. I shoulda asked when you wanted to borrow the flashlights, but I didn’t want to be too snoopy.”
“What’s wrong with caves?” Winn asked, picking up the nickel and holding it.
“Well, you know when you enter the River, how you can see things that other people can’t?” Marty said. “Well, if you went into a cave in, say, California, and you dropped into the River, you’d see certain things. Ghosts, if there are any. Maybe some strange creatures that live in caves, that kind of thing. Well, here things are a little different.”
“Different? How?”
“Well, years ago, the government was building atomic bombs. You remember, like the ones we dropped on Japan in World War II? Have they taught you about that in school yet?”
“I saw a thing about it on the History Channel.”
“OK, so you saw that huge mushroom cloud that rises up into the sky after the bomb explodes?”
“Yeah, I saw that.”
“Well, it’s full of radiation, caused by the bomb. And all that radiation has to go somewhere, as the cloud breaks up in the atmosphere.”
“It would be all broken up before it reached here from Japan,” Winn said.
“Well, you’re right,” Marty said, “but the damn politicians decided to keep building bombs, and they wanted to test them out, to see how much damage they caused. So fifty years ago they went to a place in Nevada, way out in the middle of nowhere, and blew up hundreds of those bombs, just to see what would happen. And each time they blew up a bomb, a giant mushroom cloud rose up into the air, and all that radiation came back down as the cloud drifted. Not just on Nevada, but wherever the wind blew it. Most of it blew into southern Utah, but a lot of it came down here, too. And it changed things.”
The Impossible Coin (The Downwinders Book 2) Page 4
