The Complete Bleaker Trilogy Box-set

by Jeremy Peterson

  The steel and concrete effectively blocked out the sun allowing everything in our former hangout to remain hidden in shadows. I mouthed a few cusswords as I watched Brandon reach the drop zone. I was about to flash the abort mission signal when I saw a small light flicker in the shadows. The flame disappeared quickly leaving behind the singular glow of a burning cigarette, which floated in the dark like an angry red eye. The glow intensified as the bum took a long drag on his cigarette, and through the gloom, I could see his face. I stared at him and for one terrible moment, those sunken black eyes stared back at me.

  He was a hundred yards away, but I was certain he had seen me. The binoculars dropped from my hand, and I ducked behind the dirt hill, my heartbeat drumming in my chest like the thumping of a giant pair of wings. Was he watching us the whole time, I wondered. The nightmare image of the creature leaping for me as I hung from the lamppost/tree assaulted me and I hated this idea all over again.

  Goddamn it, Brandon.

  After steeling my nerve, I crawled back up the pile of dirt and lifted the binoculars to my eyes. The focus was off and I thumbed the roller frantically, trying to get a clear picture. Where was that bastard? I couldn’t spot him or his cigarette but there was Brandon, shrugging his shoulders, waiting for me to give him his orders. Screw it, I thought. I gave the signal and Brandon lit the M-80. The fuse lit at once, and after waiting a few seconds, he dropped it over the side. It fell the four feet to the rocks that sheltered our old fort and exploded. The noise was incredible and in the brilliant flash of light, I saw the hobo hunched up in the wedge where the dirt and the bridge came together. With the dust settling, the bum rolled out of his hiding spot and stumbled away from the impact to the far side of the bridge. I knew he was either escaping down the west side of the hill to the field below or would simply circle around, out of my line of sight and climb onto the roadway portion of the bridge.

  Brandon stood facing me on the overpass, waiting for my next signal, and I thought it a minor miracle no cars had come. Unable to see our target, I motioned for one more M-80 and Brandon happily complied. I saw his lighter flicker as he raised the next explosive. Through the binoculars, I watched him light the fuse and then, like something out of a horror movie, the hobo came into view over Brandon’s shoulder. He reached out and grabbed my friend’s shoulder, spinning him around violently, causing the giant firecracker to slip from his hand. With sheer terror etched across Brandon’s face, he tore free of the man’s grasp. As Brandon backpedaled, his feet must have tangled because he tumbled and fell on his ass, the concrete pillar effectively blocking him from view.

  I held my breath and the stared intently through the binoculars, waiting for Brandon to reemerge. In the next instant, the M-80 exploded and I screamed. The hobo fell backwards, both hands held up, shielding his face. But where was Brandon?

  I crawled down the dirt pile and raced for the town side of the bridge, assuming Brandon would return the same way he came. The high levels of stupid that laced this plan radiated in my head as I ran, and I cursed myself for letting it happen.

  My feet pounded the concrete of the bridge with extra intensity, sending shockwaves into my knees. Suddenly, I heard Brandon screaming and I instantly pictured the hobo from my dream tearing at my friend with its hands and teeth. I screamed Brandon’s name and continued running as fast as I could.

  The next instant, Brandon crested the bridge at a sprint and ran straight for me. He appeared to be in one piece and I let out a heavy sigh of relief. I continued running towards him until I saw the homeless man, with the some monsters are real button on his jacket, appear at the top of hill. His hands hung at his side and he simply stood there, watching Brandon run. I froze at the sight of him. Brandon screamed at me to turn and run. He passed me without slowing down and finally, I turned and followed. At one point, I glanced over my shoulder for the hobo but he was gone.

  Brandon reached the bottom of the bridge and continued running. He crossed Main Street without looking and I struggled to keep up.

  “Wait up, man!” I said, finally noticing the limp in Brandon’s getaway. He didn’t stop but he slowed and his limp became more pronounced. He finally came to a stop outside the public library where he collapsed onto the grass. Breathing hard, I arrived a few seconds later.

  “What the hell happened up there?” I asked through ragged breaths.

  Brandon lay still in the grass, his hands covering his face. Suddenly he burst out laughing. “Jesus Christ! That was the stupidest idea you’ve ever had, Pete.”

  I fell into the grass and laughed with him.

  After we composed ourselves, I sat up. “I thought that firecracker blew you up, man.”

  Brandon started laughing again. “Damn near,” he said. “I was crawling away when it went off. I think it blew a hole in my ass!”

  “I’m not gonna check it for you,” I said.

  “Jerk.”

  I collapsed back down in the cool grass and stared into the sky. A few minutes passed quietly and finally Brandon said, “I never liked that hangout. That sonofabitch can have it.”

  12

  There were no dreams that night, but I still woke up in a pool of sweat the next morning. That summer was hot; one of the hottest on record and that day may have been the worst yet. Brandon and I were planning to play baseball in the schoolyard with Chuck and Josh but we only got two innings before the heat took its toll. Chuck had to leave to go shopping with his mom in Scottsbluff. When she arrived to pick him up, we peppered him with mama’s boy and pussy insults. He looked hurt and I could tell he was searching for a good comeback as he hopped into his mom’s air-conditioned minivan. We laughed as they pulled away but the thought of Chuck enjoying a couple hours of air conditioning while we humped it back to my house in the heat was probably the best comeback of all.

  Brandon and I ditched Josh at the park and began walking back to my house. We walked quietly, too hot and tired for conversation. The sun bore down on us and I could feel the fresh sunburn set in on my already tanned neck. Finally, Brandon broke the silence: “Too bad about our hideout, huh?”

  “Yeah, too bad.” The silence returned. Four more blocks and my house came into view. “You think I’m a pussy?” I asked him, thinking about the tree house, my eyes on my feet as we pressed on.

  “Yup,” he said, smiling. “Definitely.”

  I punched him in the arm. “Dick.”

  He chuckled and rubbed his arm.

  Cliff pulled up in his old Dodge just as we got home, its rusty muffler barking angrily. He killed the engine and hopped out, the ghost of an Oak Ridge Boys song crowing from the AM radio. “Hey, kiddo,” he said half-heartedly. He walked past us without waiting for a response, probably knowing he wasn’t going to get one. As Cliff strutted to the front door of my house, Brandon made a face and flipped him the bird. “Brandon, you know I can see your reflection in the window, right?” Cliff asked.

  “Nope, I wouldn’t have done it if I knew that,” Brandon said with a half-smile.

  Cliff snorted at that and entered the house. I noticed he wasn’t even bothering to knock anymore and that pissed me off.

  “Screw it,” Brandon said, “Let’s play catch.” He tossed the baseball at my head and I snatched it out of the air with my glove. I tossed it back at him and he did the same. We moved the game to the road where we could talk without my mom or Cliff overhearing.

  “You ready for school?” he asked me.

  “Shit no,” I said, and he nodded in agreement.

  “You wanna camp out in my backyard sometime?” Brandon asked. He tossed the ball high into the air, simulating a pop fly. I called off an imaginary left fielder and made the catch from my shortstop position. I turned and raised my forefinger and pinky finger in the air, indicating two outs to my imaginary teammates and then I whipped the ball back to him sidearm, which he caught cleanly as always.

  “Sure,” I said, “how about tonight?”

  “Cool.” He bounced a hard gro
under to me. I took a knee to scoop it up but the ball took an unexpected bounce and skipped just under my glove. I turned just in time to see it bounce into the woods.

  “Shit, man, Sorry. I’ll get it,” Brandon said.

  “I can get the damn thing.” I snapped, waving him off. I could see the ball about fifteen yards inside, resting in a patch of sumac. I walked slowly to the edge and took a deep breath. It’s only grass and trees for Christ’s sake. I took one-step and then a second, my heart throbbed in my chest and I thought for one crazy moment that Brandon would be able to hear it. He would probably make a joke about it any second. I imagined what he might say, the kind of joke that would be funny but hurt a little too. He would say something like: Hey sissy, I can hear your vagina from all the way back here! And then he would cackle hysterically. He was hilarious … just ask him.

  Finally, he did speak. “Toss it here, bud.”

  “What?” I said, turning around.

  “The ball, numb nuts … throw it here.”

  I looked down and saw the ball in my hand and the vines about my feet. Somehow, the trees surrounded me. Their branches reaching and clawing. I had walked into the woods without realizing it, and I could feel my chest tightening. I closed my eyes. Brandon called my name but it was coming from somewhere else, somewhere far away … a dream maybe. I still don’t know to this day. When I finally opened my eyes, I saw nothing but trees. Trees and grass and weeds.

  With ball in hand, my finger traced the outline of the frayed stitches. I turned and saw Brandon standing at the edge of the woods, a goofy look on his face I assume was half concern and half annoyance. I rifled the ball through the woods. It missed a low hanging branch by a millimeter and then landed in Brandon’s glove with a loud crack.

  “Ouch, dammit!” Brandon said. He removed the glove and massaged his palm. I smiled; happy I had caused my best friend pain. As I think back on that moment now, that must have been the first time. It would not be the last.

  “You coming?” he asked.

  “Yup.” There’s nothing to be afraid of in here, I thought and then without further consideration, I unzipped my pants and pissed on a dying elm tree. It felt good. As I shook off, I felt a warm breeze blow through the trees at my back. It tickled my bare, sweaty neck like a lover’s caress. Directly behind me, close enough I could feel hot breath on my ear, a dead voice whispered, I’m still here. Mr. Bleaker.

  I batted at my ear as if swatting a fly and zipped up my pants. Slowly, I looked over my shoulder into the woods. A barn swallow called at me angrily from somewhere and a rabbit disappeared into a patch of tall grass. The breeze had disappeared and everything had gone still.

  “You ok?” Brandon asked. He had entered the woods and stood a few feet behind me.

  “Yeah,” I said, and surprisingly enough, I believed it. The voice I heard was scary, but what I felt just then was anger. I was tired of being afraid. Tired of fear running my life, and after everything that I had been through that summer, it felt like it was time to take a stand. “Where is that tree you were telling me about?”

  “Hell yeah!” Brandon said. “Follow me.”

  Two minutes later, we arrived at a giant oak tree with four branches that sprouted up like an upside down teepee. Ten feet up, Brandon had already begun laying the floor and a pile of wood planks lay in the weeds underneath. A homemade ladder leaned awkwardly against one of the mighty branches.

  “Holy shit, did you do this?”

  He shrugged modestly and smiled. “I knew you would come around eventually.”

  “It’s badass! Totally badass!” I said, my eyes wide with genuine excitement.

  “There’s still a lot of work to do. You wanna help me?”

  “Hell yeah, man. This is gonna be so cool. Where did you get all this?”

  “You know my neighbor, Mr. Barker?”

  “Um … the fat guy that’s always watching us through his kitchen window?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. He put up a new garage last fall. These are the scraps from his old one. He caught me trying to steal some of it but he was so tired of looking at it junking up his yard, he offered to help me carry it in here.” Brandon broke eye contact with me and looked to his feet. “Plus, I think he’s lonely, ya know?”

  I only nodded.

  He raised his head and the smile returned. “He also showed me how to build the floor so we don’t kill ourselves. He said he didn’t want my dad to sue him for anything. I told him my dad wouldn’t mind if I fell out the tree and broke my neck but he didn’t want to take the chance. Of course he was right … I don’t know how to build shit, but it’s pretty cool, huh?”

  “It’s bitchin man, totally!” I said. “Your neighbor sounds a lot cooler than mine.”

  “Ooh, crazy old man Stounager,” Brandon said, chuckling. “He’s not so bad though, just a couple weeks ago I stopped by your house. You weren’t home, so I just decided to head over to the park. Mr. Stounager was on his porch and he hollered out to me. He said, ‘Hey you! Come here, sonny, I got something for ya.’ And I was like, ‘oh shit; I bet you do have something for me’.”

  “Gross,” I said.

  Brandon looked at me and nodded his head in agreement. “But instead of him being some weird pervert or chucking more rocks at me, he just held out a plate of cookies. He said, ‘Go ahead and take one. Take two and give one to your little buddy if ya want.’ and then he motioned back to your place.”

  “Did you take the cookies?” I asked.

  “Hell yes, I took the cookies. Free food, man.”

  I nodded at that.

  “They did kinda taste like rocks, though,” he said.

  We spent the rest of the day working on the tree house and by the time the sun began to set, we had the floor and three walls complete.

  “I’m beat, man. Let’s go see what my mom’s making for dinner.”

  “Yeah, ok. You know what, screw camping in my backyard, let’s camp in this thing. It would be awesome,” Brandon said.

  I climbed down the ladder and jumped the last couple of rungs. “Yeah it would,” I said, but I didn’t think I was ready for that type of test.

  “Shit yeah, man. Tomorrow night. You tell your folks we’re camping in my backyard. We’ll set up the tent and then haul our sleeping bags and flashlights out here after my dad falls asleep. What do ya say?”

  “I don’t know, I—”

  “Come on, man, it will be the absolute best.” He interrupted.

  “Alright, I’ll ask. Now let’s get outa here, I’m starving.”

  We walked back to my house and I didn’t hear any more voices. In fact, we worked so hard building the tree house; I forgot we were in the woods at all. I noticed Cliff’s truck was gone when we broke free from the trees and we were both happy to see that. Mom was making my favorite dinner, tacos, which I took to be another good sign. I asked her if Brandon could stay for dinner and of course she said yes, but I could see it in her eyes that she wasn’t too happy about it. Thankfully, Brandon behaved himself. I figured it was because we were so tired from our day’s adventure, but whatever it was, both mom and I were thankful.

  “So, what did you boys do today?”

  Brandon and I looked at each other for a fraction of a second, unsure of how much to reveal. “Played some baseball and sweated our butts off,” Brandon said through a mouthful of tacos.

  “I can tell,” mom said and wrinkled her nose.

  Brandon laughed and I rolled my eyes. And just like that, we decided to keep the tree house our little secret.

  “Can Pete stay at my house tomorrow night, Misses T?” Brandon asked.

  Mom raised her eyebrow at me. “Did you ask Brandon’s parents if it was ok with them?”

  I opened my mouth to answer but Brandon beat me to it. “They said it was fine. We’re gonna camp in my backyard … I mean if it’s ok with you, misses T.”

  “Well, I suppose that would be fine,” mom said, “but I want you to get to bed early toni
ght then. You two won’t get much sleep tomorrow I’d bet.”

  “Okay, mom.”

  “I want you to shower after dinner and then get ready for bed.”

  I sighed theatrically. “Okay, mom, jeez.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Brandon said. “These tacos were great, but I should get going.”

  “Thank you, Brandon. I’m glad you liked them.”

  “Seriously, Misses T, they were ...” He trailed off and gave her a ‘thumbs up’ while rubbing his belly with his other hand. Mom smiled at that, and I even noticed her cheeks blush a little. He stood up from the table and gave me a wink. “See you tomorrow, bud.”

  I nodded. “Be careful on your way home, and thank your folks for letting Pete stay over tomorrow night,” Mom said.

  “You got it, Misses T,” Brandon said, and then he was gone.

  I had one more taco and Mom pressed me for more information about the sleepover. I told her as much as I could and eventually slipped away to take a shower. I was filthy and my muscles were already sore, I didn’t want to think about how sore I would feel in the morning. It was still hot in the house and the cool water felt great. After I was done washing, I let the cool water run down the achy muscles of my back and shoulders and thought about nothing.

  13

  An hour later, I lay in bed unable to sleep. I was excited to finish construction on the tree house but I was nervous too. I thought of Mr. Bleaker reminding me he was still here when I entered the woods to retrieve the baseball. The voices weren’t real and I knew that, but my old life had claws and it wasn’t afraid to use them.