by Bryn Roar
Rusty and Tubby waited topside, while Josie and Bud went inside the Bunker to put the shotgun away. Tubby wanted to have a look-see, but an invitation wasn’t yet forthcoming. He couldn’t get over the fact he was friends with someone who possessed stolen firearms! He looked over at Rusty and wondered why he’d remained behind.
Gnat was looking around apprehensively.
“You know it’s dead, right? The dog?”
Rusty fiddled with his glasses. “What if there was more than one? What if she already spread the disease?”
Tubby scanned the tall pines, surrounding them like bullies in a schoolyard. “You really think so? Maybe—”
The sound of clattering pebbles interrupted his thought. Josie crawled out of the so-called rabbit hole, followed by Bud. The shotgun was gone, replaced by a sloshing gas can. Kerosene, used for a space heater below.
Tubby gulped, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. Bud caught the look of dismay on Ralph’s face.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” he said, wavering as well. “What if the fire gets out of hand? I mean, there’s no way we can stop it once it’s burning good…and the Pines are so dry right now!” It wasn’t just a sense of responsibility that had Bud thinking twice—Bud loved the Pines. It was his home away from home. Setting fire to them seemed a betrayal of sorts.
Rusty adjusted his glasses. “I’ve been thinking about that, too,” he said, clearing his throat. “Now listen up,Creeps. ‘Cause here’s what we’re gonna do…”
*******
By the time they made their way back to the dead dog, a collection of flies had already gathered. The big blue nasty kind. “Can flies spread rabies?” Josie asked Rusty. Tubby thought it an excellent question, and as one of the insects landed on his arm, he slapped at it like a frightened girl.
Rusty did little to put their minds at ease. “Well, they sure as hell spread other diseases…”
Bud ignored the flies and began spreading the kerosene over anything that looked as if it had once belonged inside the carcass.
Josie timidly approached the headless animal. As if it might re-animate at any second. Not even in the most lurid horror movie she’d ever seen, though, could a disemboweled, headless creature come back to life. She turned to face Bud, now finished with the kerosene.
“All set, Buddy boy?”
Bud checked his watch and looked at Rusty, ready to implement his friend’s plan. “What time you got, Gnat?”
“Five thirty on the dot.”
Bud adjusted his watch. “Damn. I guess I should’ve waited before spreading that kerosene. Oh, well,” he shrugged. “I’ll give you guys thirty minutes before starting the fire. Think you can get to a phone soon after that?”
“Yeah, but don’t wait any longer than that, Bud. That kerosene’s gonna evaporate before long. Light it and then hightail it back to the Bunker until tomorrow morning. I’ll call Bilbo and tell him you’re bunking with me.”
“Bilbo?” Tubby said, blinking. Gee whiz! Maybe this really is Wonderland!
“My old man,” Bud said. “Bill’s his name. William Beauregard Brown, but everyone calls him Bilbo.”
“Why can’t you just follow us out afterwards?” Josie asked, annoyed with the set up.
“Because someone might see me leave the woods while the smoke is still in the air. Now get going, and come get me tomorrow when the coast is clear.”
Rusty checked his watch again. “All right. You be careful, Buddy boy, you hear? And stay put! Let’s go, Opie.” He and Tubby had hustled ten feet up the trail, when they noticed Josie wasn’t with them. “Big Red?”
Josie gave Rusty and Bud one of her patented frosty looks. Like Joel, they were fluent in its translation. Josie had made up her mind to stay behind. Rusty shook his head; he knew what she was thinking; why she wanted to hang back, and it was just plain silly.
“Tits, have you lost your damn mind? Well, you can forget about me calling your mom! Shayna’d probably just cuss my narrow ass out!”
Josie blushed. If Rusty was any indication, her motives were clearly transparent. “Just go over and tell my brother I’m staying at the museum tonight. Joel can tell Shayna himself, you big feckin’ baby.”
Rusty turned to Bud for help. Josie saw the look and intercepted it, stepping in front of her best friend. “Rusty Huggins! What did I just say?!”
Bud put his hand on her shoulder. “Joe—”
Her head snapped around, stopping him cold with a look. He checked his watch and silently cursed the stubborn redhead. He looked over at Rusty and Tubby, and threw up his hands. “You heard the girl! Instead of coming to get us tomorrow, meet Josie and me at the museum at ten o’clock tonight. We’ll sneak out of the woods after dark. Oh, and pick up our backpacks on your way out. I wouldn’t want Rupert or one of the volunteers to find them.”
Rusty pulled his confused, overweight friend along with him. “You got it, Bud. See you girls tonight then!”
Bud watched them until they were out of sight. Then he turned to Josie, now looking at him a little abashed. “It’s not too late, Red. I don’t think Tubby could outrun a turtle, and Rusty won’t leave him behind.”
Josie smiled, instantly giving birth to a thousand fluttering butterflies in his stomach. She had an idea that Bud might have similar feelings for her but would have been astonished to know their true depths. “How much longer before you fire it, tiger?”
“Thirty minutes should do it.”
“Is that gonna leave us enough time to get down the rabbit hole before the firemen get here?”
“Yeah. It’ll take awhile for Chief Briarson and his men to get their equipment up the trail. And despite what Rusty says, I’m worried about the fire spreading out of control.” With this, Bud began to clear the perimeter of any natural debris that could encourage the fire’s growth. With his Timberlakes, he made a two-foot wide circle around the entire scene, raking away the pine needles and leaves until he’d reached the bare topsoil, creating a firebreak of sorts.
It wouldn’t stop the fire from spreading, but maybe it would be enough to keep it somewhat contained until the volunteer firemen could find their way out here.
Josie followed behind, picking up sticks and pinecones and flinging them out of Bud’s makeshift circle.
Satisfied he had done as much as he could, Bud dug the Marlboros out of his coat pocket. He shook a cigarette free and fired up. “So what’s going on, Big Red? What the hell are you doing out here with me?”
Josie looked confused by the question. The directness of it caught her off guard. “I’m not sure exactly. I guess it didn’t seem fair for you to take all the risk by yourself. There’s four of us now, you know!”
Bud looked like an angry bull, the smoke jetting forth from his flared nostrils. He didn’t believe Josie for a second. He saw the blush spreading up her neck and face.
A sure sign his friend wasn’t being truthful.
*******
With their book bags heaved back on their shoulders, as well as those belonging to their friends, Rusty and Tubby watched the dirt road from within the concealment of the Pines. Rusty could smell wood smoke in the air. It was time. Past it, really. They waited until the road was empty of people and cars, and then ran from the brush, towards the now empty schoolyard.
Tubby anxiously checked up and down Huggins Way, as they crossed over it and into the schoolyard. Behind them, above the tree line, he noticed a plume of dirty smoke rising into the air. He wondered at the time. By now his mother would be beside herself with worry. It had to be well past six o’clock! He’d never been out this late before without calling home.
“What time is it?” he asked Rusty, as they hustled over to the payphone in the school’s playground. It was perfect for an anonymous call. Impossible to see from the road, and unlikely to be traced back to them.
“Six-twenty,” Rusty replied. He punched in 911.
An operator with an officious tone answered right away. Rusty recognized th
e voice. Old lady Purcell. During the weekdays she manned the phone lines. “Moon Island, 911. What is your emergency?”
“Uh, um. Well…there’s a-a fire out in t-the…”
“Excuse me, young man? Can I have your name?”
Tubby saw the stricken look on Rusty’s face and grabbed the phone from his hand. “There’s a fire in the Pines! Down the Old Oyster Trail! Hurry! It’s burning out of control!”
“Right away, sir,” the operator said, springing to action. “Could I have your name, please?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s Lester Noonan, and I started the dadgum thing!”
Chapter Nine:
Waxing Nostalgic
Back at the lake, standing atop the tumbledown, Bud and Josie waited for the arrival of the Moon Island Volunteer Fire department. Bud had set the fire thirty-eight minutes ago, but they’d yet to hear any indication of anyone fighting the blaze. With a fretful heart he watched the thin column of smoke grow to that of a hundred-foot long black cloud over the treeline. “Where the hell are they?” he said, checking his watch again
Despite the fact most of the kerosene had soaked into the ground, the fire had spread quickly. With a Whhhooossshhh!!! the sterilizing flames engulfed the diseased animal and the surrounding tender, jumping Bud’s firebreak with no trouble at all. He and Josie had exchanged startled looks and then turned tail for Lizard Lake, where they’d been waiting ever since.
“Maybe something’s happened to—”
“Shhh!” Bud hissed. “Did you hear that?”
Josie cocked her head. Except for the distant crackle of flames, she couldn’t hear a thing. Then, so far off she doubted her own ears, she heard the faintest echo of men’s raised voices. The “clink clank” of fire fighting equipment.
“Oh, good,” she said, releasing the breath she’d been holding onto ever since Bud flicked his lit cigarette into the dog’s yawning abdomen, starting the fire from that gruesome destination. “C’mon Buddy boy, let’s get our shiny hienies underground.”
“You go ahead, Joe. I just want to make sure.”
The worried look on Bud’s rugged face held her nagging tongue. She reached over and took his hand in hers. “I’ll wait with you,” she whispered in his ear.
Bud’s eyes widened as Josie’s warm breath filled the hollows of his ear. He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d grabbed him by the balls. He blinked, looking down at their coupled hands in wonder.
*******
Since the closest place to school was Moon Man’s, Rusty and Tubby hightailed it over there after making the 911. If need be, they could dive for cover in the roadside bushes. Fortunately for them the Moon Island Fire department, located by the harbor, responded slower than anticipated.
He and Tubby were already slipping into the comic book store when the fire truck sped by, clanging up the dusty dirt road. Followed by the island’s one and only patrol car, its siren warbling woefully.
Rusty didn’t see who was behind the wheel but he knew it had to be Sheriff Rupert Henderson. The old man always worked the ten to seven shift, Tuesday through Saturday. Part time deputies filled in the rest of the hours.
Oddly enough, Moon Man’s was deserted, Garfield, nowhere in sight. Since it was such a nice day, Rusty said the kids were probably hanging out at the Circle Jerk.
“You think the sheriff saw us?” Tubby panted. Never in his life had he covered so many miles in one day; feared for his life one minute; felt such exhilaration the next! It was like a real-life Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride! He wondered if every day with theCreeps was going to be like this. If so, he couldn’t wait to see what would happen tomorrow. He had his hands on his knees, sucking air like a stopped up vacuum cleaner, while Rusty was barely breathing hard at all. The chilly A/C felt good on Ralph’s hot scalp and sweaty neck.
“I don’t think so,” Rusty said, peering out the window. “Even if he did, so what? We’re just two nerdlingers going into the local comic book store. Ain’t nothin’ peculiar about that!” He set his backpack next to the door, but held onto Bud’s.
“Yeah. I guess so. Why didn’t we stay out back behind the school, though? Waited until it was all clear?”
“Because Rupert’ll be sure to check out the origination of the 911 call, and I didn’t want to be anywhere near that damn payphone when he did.”
Impressed, Tubby nodded his head. Now he understood why Bud and Josie valued Gnat’s opinions so. Rusty had a sharp mind. He handed over Joe’s backpack.
“Yeeesss,” hissed a voice, snakelike behind them.
Tubby and Rusty screamed in unison.
Gratified at their reactions, Tim Garfield chuckled sinisterly. “My, my! You boys are all in lather, aren’t you?”
“Huh?” Tubby clutched at his pounding chest, hoping he was too young to have a heart attack.
“Garfield, you scared us, man!” Rusty said, laughing a little. “And cool it with that Mr. Burns chuckle, will ya? You’ll have Tubby thinking you’re some sort of evil genius.” He lifted up his friends’ backpacks. “You mind if we leave Bud and Josie’s stuff behind your counter? They’ll be by tomorrow to pick ‘em up.”
Garfield rubbed his hands together. “Excellent,” he said, still doing the Monty Burns bit. He collected the bags from Rusty and stowed them underneath his old-timey cash register. The hulking kind with a crank on the side.
Over the years, Moon Man’s had become a gathering place for the island’s youth. Tim Garfield knew every kid on Moon, their likes, dislikes, whether or not he could extend credit to them, and whether or not he could turn his back on them. He was a harmless eccentric, liked by most, tolerated by the rest. And he fit right in with Moon’s eclectic mix of year-round residents.
The Creeps loved him like one of their own. He and Bill Brown were the only adults on the island who didn’t judge them for their obsession. Why should they? Their obsession was their business!
Tubby had never spoken to the owner of Moon Man’s before, even though the geeky, thirty-something man had always greeted him by name whenever he entered the store. How Tim Garfield even knew his name was one of the things that creeped Tubby out about the guy. The other was the strange voice Garfield always spoke in—a Hannibal Lecter, Frazier Crane kind of deal. And like the whole Mr. Burns routine an obviously phony affectation.
Tim’s T-shirt shed some light on the mystery. On it was a picture of baby Stewie, from the TV show Family Guy, pointing a ray gun and declaring: Victory is Mine!
Tubby had only seen the show a couple of times (his mother disapproved of the potty language), but once he’d made the connection, there was no mistaking Stewie’s haughty tone. He glanced over at Rusty, rummaging through Garfield's Pick’s of the Week! comic bin.
Gnat seemed completely at ease in the owner’s presence, and that was all the approval Tubby needed.
“What the deuce is going on out there?” Garfield asked them. He was standing outside the door, trying to see what all the fuss was up the road, prissily waving his hand in front of his nose. “Oh, dear! Is that smoke I smell?”
“Yeah, we smelled it, too.” Rusty gave Tubby a wink to play it cool. “I think the school might be on fire.”
“The devil you say!” Garfield seemed thrilled at the possibility. “Oh, it’s probably just the Noonans’ cooking up some roadkill for supper.”
“Uh-Mister uh, Moon Man, sir?” Tubby scratched his head, trying to recall what Rusty had just called the owner. “Could I use your telephone, sir?”
“My telephone? Of course you can, Ralph. It’s right over there on the counter. And call me Garfield—like the flabby tabby? Everyone does!” He stepped outside and waved at the boys as he ran past the window. “Ta! Ta!”
