by Hamill, Ike
**********
“I hereby dub this the first official hamburger of the summer!” Ben said as he pulled a charred lump of beef from his stick.
Jack clapped his right hand against his leg with approval: “Bravo! Well done, well done! Here, take a bun for that.”
"Burgers are awesome over a fire. They should always cook them like this," said Ben.
Jack hunched down a little and squinted through the bushes so he could spy at the house. Their campsite was on the edge of the woods, just about thirty yards from the back door. They had a tall maple and some thick bushes to give their campsite some privacy.
"Looks like my parents are having chicken again," said Jack.
"You can't see that from there," said Ben.
Jack laughed. He balanced his burger on his knee so he could get some chips and poke the fire with his stick.
“So what do you want to do tomorrow?” Jack asked through a mouthful of chips.
“Whatever the day brings, Jacky,” replied Ben. “Oh, I know—we should go hunting.”
“Nothing’s in season. Besides, you’ve never killed anything.”
“Man… It was just an idea. You don’t have to freak out about it,” replied Ben. He tied a plastic grocery bag on the end of his hamburger stick and waved it over the flames, until it caught. “What about fishing then?”
"You're burning that bag," said Jack. "I like mine rare."
"You're just pissed because I thought of it first," said Ben. "First official garbage torch!" he exclaimed, waving the stick over his head.
The boys laughed.
"Seriously," said Ben. "What about fishing?"
“We’re not going to catch anything around here,” said Jack. “We could hike over to the old quarry. There’s no fish there, but it’s only a couple miles, and we can go swimming.”
“I’ll go over there, but I don’t know about swimming. It’s probably still pretty cold,” said Ben. He smiled—“Maybe we should drop by Heather’s on the way.”
“What’s with you and that girl?” asked Jack. “She’s barely hot, and she’s a total bitch.”
“Whatever. Someday you’ll understand.”
“Yeah. You know? That’s true,” said Jack as he looked up to night sky. “Eventually, I’ll grow up. But you know what? You’ll still be mostly retarded.”
A piece of meat bounced off of Jack’s forehead. “Hey!” yelled Jack. “Don’t waste it.”
Jack stood up and started collecting trash while he was still chewing on his last bite of hamburger.
The boys finished their dinner, cleaned up their site, and hoisted the cooler with the remaining food up into a tree. They built up the fire and stretched out as close as they could comfortably get. The night was damp and cool for June, and the warmth was welcome.
At the edge of the neighborhood, the house was isolated enough that the boys had very little sound or light pollution to contend with. The woods at their back began to come alive with the sounds of the night. They were both accustomed to camping and paid no attention to the routine noises. They didn’t last long in the warmth of the fire before they began to fall asleep.
**********
Jack awoke in the night and held himself perfectly still. He felt there was something right outside the tent and he didn’t want it to know he was awake. He remained clenched in fear for several minutes before he began to speculate as to why he had woken up. Still convinced that he was being scrutinized, he began to think about Gabe Vigue. He wondered how long a little kid could have survived alone in the woods. Was it possible that Gabe was outside his tent? Jack’s eyes were well adjusted to the dim moonlight filtering through the tent, and he could see that Ben was deep asleep.
Jack slowly reached out with his foot until it hit Ben’s sleeping bag. He nudged Ben’s leg. No response. Jack pushed harder—right into Ben’s kneecap. Something brushed the front of the tent. Jack pulled back and gave Ben a swift kick.
“Hey—what are you doing?” slurred Ben.
“Shh,” said Jack in a barely audible whisper. “There’s something out there.”
Ben sat up, rubbed his eyes, and then sat very still for several seconds. “Nothing,” Ben said as he flopped back down. Ben appeared to be back asleep within moments.
Jack waited and waited. He could barely let himself breathe as he listened for any sound. Jack’s head was still, but his eyes darted around the tent, looking for any shadow. He began to feel eyes on his back. As noiselessly as he could muster, Jack turned his head around to see the wall of the tent behind him. As he guessed, there was the outline of a small person silhouetted on the side of the tent.
Jack wanted to whisper to Ben, but he couldn’t seem to figure out how to make any sounds with his useless mouth. Finally the shape moved and brushed lightly on the side of the tent again. When he couldn’t follow the shape anymore, Jack turned back to Ben. He was surprised to see Ben’s eyes wide open, although he was still breathing deep and slow, as if he were asleep.
“Did you see that?” whispered Jack.
Ben nodded and mouthed “Yes.”
They sat looking at each other without speaking for an eternity.
**********
In the morning, Jack didn’t even think about the night’s visitor until he exited the tent. The cooler of food they had carefully lifted into the tree was lying on it’s side a dozen yards from the tent. What remained of their food was strewn about their site. Jack followed the rope from the cooler back to the big maple tree. The rope ended with a frayed end, as if it had been gnawed through. Jack picked up the garbage while Ben remained asleep in the tent.
Jack took the bag of trash into the garage, and met his mom on his way to the bathroom.
“How is roughing it treating you?” she asked.
“Great! Everything is perfect,” he replied.
“Your dad wanted me to remind you that you had an agreement about keeping a clean campground,” she chided. “He said there was a bit of a mess this morning?”
“I’m sorry. It’s all cleaned up now. Don’t worry—it won’t happen again. I guess we were just a little excited last night.”
His mom studied his face. Jack looked away and then continued to the bathroom.
“Don’t forget about dinner on Friday, and you have to take a shower at least every other day.”
“Okay. I remember,” Jack called as he walked away.
**********
The boys ate a quick meal of Pop Tarts and half a carton of chocolate milk. The milk had a puncture in its side and leaked as they drank. They organized their site, put on their hiking gear, and decided to head for the quarry. They talked only of the mechanics of the trip—no idle conversation, or discussion of the previous night’s events.
Jack was able to navigate them out of the neighborhood through vacant lots and undeveloped strips of woods. Although they passed close to several houses, they ignored the buildings and pretended they were in the wilderness—far away from civilization. Where the path was ill-defined, they took time to cut back brush and make it passable. They dragged thick branches to lay across the creek to make rudimentary bridges where they needed to cross. In places where the path split, they back-tracked and stomped down the wrong path to throw off imagined stalkers.
After a couple of miles, their path broke out of the woods and followed a power-line cut. Central Maine Power had cut a neat strip through the woods about fifty yards wide. The path they followed meandered through this strip, back-and-forth, under the power lines. Their pace increased as they didn’t have to do any maintenance on the trail.
“Hold up—I think it’s around here,” said Jack.
“What’s around here?”
“There’s a little side trail that goes over to the quarry. I think it’s right around here,” replied Jack.
“Is that it?” Ben pointed back down the trail a few yards.
There was a small break in the blueberry bushes that looked like it was once a path.
They followed the modest path back into the woods where it soon petered out.
“I don’t think this is anything,” said Jack.
“Boy, you give up too easy—look,” pointed Ben.
Following Ben’s outstretched arm Jack saw what Ben saw: there was a tiny amount of sunlight coming from between the trees.
“Try to keep up,” said Ben as he worked his way through the woods.
When navigating the close branches Jack was at a significant disadvantage with only one working arm. He ducked and dodged, trying to to keep up with Ben. Overhead they could see blue sky between the branches, suggesting a clearing up ahead. At their level, even Ben had a hard time pushing through the dense underbrush.
“Hey, I think I… Whoa!” yelled Ben.
Jack saw Ben overbalanced and disappearing quickly through a gap in the thick bushes. He recognized the scene—it felt like he was watching himself from behind as he fell from the garage loft. All that was left of Ben was his legs at waist-height, and they were slipping away. Jack threw himself forward and grabbed for Ben’s shoe. He knew that if the quarry were on the other side of this bush, Ben could be falling into a deep pit.
Jack managed to get a handful of shoe, with his fingers hooked in next to Ben’s ankle, but Ben’s momentum carried them both forward. Digging in his knees, Jack stopped himself and Ben’s shoe popped off in his hand.
“Ben!” Jack screamed as he thrust his face through the bushes.
“Hey, what are you thinking?” asked Ben—inches from his face.
“Oh man, I thought you fell.”
“I was going to, until you stole my shoe,” replied Ben.
Ben helped Jack through the bushes where he could see that they were on the lip of a small sand pit. Ben grabbed his shoe from Jack and sat down to put it back on.
“I think there’s a path over there,” Ben nodded towards the far side of the pit.
They made their way around the sand and found a four-wheeler path that led through a brief stretch of woods before opening up to a large dug-out area. They carefully slid down the side, to the bottom of the quarry. Four-wheeler tracks all around them suggested the pit had heavy recreational use now. They explored the different areas and worked their way around to a flat rock next to a big pool of water. The water was a strange shade of blue-green.
Protected from the wind, it was quickly becoming very hot on the rock. The boys took off their shoes and socks and dangled their feet in the cool water. They balled up their shirts, and leaned back on the hot rock, using their shirts as pillows as they laid in the sun.
“Do you come over here much?” asked Ben.
“Nope, not very often. My friend Mark showed it to me one time. His dad used to work for the sand and gravel place.”
“Jeez, I’d be down here all the time, this place is neat,” said Ben.
“Well we haven’t really had the chance. I mean, I’ve only lived here a couple of years, and that stuff with that Vigue kid. I couldn’t even leave the house for like two months,” said Jack.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I had to go everywhere with my brother. Doesn’t that kid live right near you?”
“Well, he did. Just a couple houses away,” replied Jack. “My dad used to do some stuff with his dad, but not anymore. Now that guy is really angry all the time.”
“How old is he—the kid I mean?” asked Ben.
“I don’t know, maybe six or something. He was just a little kid,” Jack said and paused, then asked “Hey, what do you think got into our food last night?”
“You know, I’ve been thinking about that a lot, and I think there’s only one answer… The ghost of Gabe Vigue,” Ben laughed.
“Yeah, real funny,” said Jack.
“Wow, lighten up already.”
“Seriously though—that was something big that took down that cooler,” said Jack.
“Probably just a raccoon or something,” replied Ben.
“Have you ever heard of a raccoon figuring out how to break into a food stash hung fifteen feet up?” asked Jack. “How did it know to chew that rope?”
“We’re not talking about any old raccoon here, dude. If you haven’t noticed, that’s one nice neighborhood you live in. You probably have some well-educated animals patrolling those yards,” joked Ben.
They laid in the sun for several minutes without talking.
“You know, I’m starting to get hungry—maybe we should get out moving,” said Ben.
“Yeah, let’s get wet first,” replied Jack.
They deemed the water too cold for full immersion, but decided to dip their heads and splashed around a bit before heading back to the path. On the way out of the pit they found a proper trail back to the power lines and marked it with their swiss army knives—peeling a small amount of bark from selected trees.
The trip back was significantly shorter than their trip out. They made it back to the house a little after noon.
**********
Their raided cooler didn’t hold much in the way of appealing lunch material, so they relented and decided to visit the kitchen. Inside, Jack’s mom was doing laundry.
“There you are—Jack, can I talk to you for a minute?” asked Jack’s mom.
“Just a minute, mom, we’re making sandwiches,” replied Jack.
“Now, Bub,” she said. His mom directed him into the laundry room while Ben busied himself with his sandwich and pretended to ignore the conversation.
“Jack, do you remember the conditions you agreed to when we said you could camp out this summer?” she asked Jack. Her voice was gentle, but her face stern.
“Yes, we had to keep a clean site, no fires after ten, dinner with the family twice a week,” Jack slowed, “um, shower every other day.”
His mom cut him off—“And you’ll check in if you’re leaving the property? Ring a bell?”
“Oh yeah, check in.”
“Where’d you go this morning?”
“Oh, I’m sorry—we didn’t even think of it. We went to the power lines,” said Jack.
“Jack! You need to check with me before wandering off like that—that is not acceptable.”
“Yes, mom.”
“Okay, yes, but I need to know you’ve gotten the message,” she said.
“Yes, I got it,” he replied.
“Just to be sure—you’ll stay here the rest of the day. You’ll have your shower today, and then you’ll have dinner with us tonight.”
“Okay,” said Jack. He looked at his feet—there was no use arguing with his mom.
“It’s not the end of the world—you can put your stuff away in the rec-room while you’re here. Then you won’t have to worry about that for the rest of the summer.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, then,” she said. “Go eat your sandwich.”
He started to leave, and she called him back. “Jack, one other thing—I put fresh sheets on the guest bed. Tell Ben he can sleep there tonight.”
“We have to sleep inside? Aw, mom!” Jack whined.
“Just tonight. You can go back to your camp tomorrow.”
“Alright,” he moaned.
He returned to the kitchen with his shoulders slumped. Ben had a mouthful of sandwich. He looked at Jack and raised his eyebrows.
“I got in trouble because we went for hike without letting her know. We have to stay here tonight,” Jack said.
Ben swallowed. “Big deal—just one night, right?” he said and picked up his sandwich again. “I miss TV anyway.”
They both laughed.
**********
After eating and getting cleaned up, the boys spent a couple hours in the basement rec-room. Jack knew the minimum amount of effort he would have to show to get his mom’s approval that he had attempted to clean up his stuff. Ben spent most of the time laying on the couch and reading a bicycle magazine he had found.
When they were finished downstairs, they headed
up to Jack’s room. They played video games, watched TV, and talked until they were completely bored. Eventually they invented a game where they shot rubber bands at each other until one of them got hurt. After pausing for a few minutes they would be back to shooting.
“So what’s your dad doing this summer?” asked Jack.
“He’s representing some tribe suing California,” said Ben.
“Huh. For what?”
“Who knows. Ow! You got me right in the eye,” said Ben. They both laughed as Ben rubbed his eye.
They said simultaneously—“It’s only fun and games if someone gets hit in the eye.” That had been their mantra the summer before last.
“Remember the forbidden race?” asked Jack.
“I remember who still holds the world record,” bragged Ben.
They had invented a race in Ben’s basement during a week of rain, two summers before. It had involved rolling an office chair through all the rooms of the basement while gripping the arm rests. The floor was tile and they reached improbable speeds—pushing off against walls and furniture. The race had become “The Forbidden Race” when Ben had knocked over a bookshelf. A crash of books had summoned Ben’s mother who had banned the game. After that they had to race very quietly, and only when they were sure she wouldn’t hear.
For Jack, that had been the last fun week that summer. The following weekend Stephen had shown up. Stephen was the son of friends of Ben’s parents. Apparently, they had played together when they were four, so the parents all assumed that the kids should still be best friends. Jack considered himself Ben’s only legitimate best friend and resented the intrusion.
To make things worse, Stephen felt the need to brag about everything and devise ways to drive a wedge between Jack and Ben.
“Dinner time,” Jack’s mom called from downstairs.
The boys raced down the stairs.
**********
Jack thought his dad would be angry, but dinner went very well. His dad gave him only a little bit of a hard time to enforce his mom’s punishment. It seemed that all was forgiven. After dinner they all watched TV in the family room and then the boys went back up to Jack’s room.
