by L. L. Soares
“Let’s stay on this side.”
We lowered our heads again and pushed off, the rain striking our necks and backs and legs. Our clothing was soaked, but it made me feel better to think that Edgar was probably soaked too, as my backpack wasn’t waterproof. Let him drown in there, I thought, and as I did, I felt my pack jostle against my back. I panicked, nearly losing my balance. My hands tightened on the handlebars.
It’s only your imagination.
But I knew it hadn’t been.
We’d gotten out of the forest just in time. There was a loud cracking noise, and another blinding flash behind us. We both skidded to a stop and turned to watch.
“Holy assbat Jesus.” Sean whistled. “Did you see that?”
I was too stunned to reply. Lightning was hitting the trees. One by one they caught fire and fell. Soon a steady stream of chipmunks, squirrels, and birds was fleeing the forest. We even saw a deer run past.
The lightning continued to flash, every strike a direct hit. With each crackle and hiss, we both jumped. Our shoulders were so hunched they almost touched our ears. Sean stared at me, wincing into the rain, his eyes wide with fear. “This isn’t right, man.”
“Let’s get out of here.” I didn’t need to ask him twice. Soon we were moving away from McGiver’s Forest as fast as we could go, fighting for purchase on the slick sidewalk.
We hadn’t gone much farther, maybe another mile or two, when we saw the worms. They covered the path ahead in thick, pink ropes. I could almost hear the squelching. One thing I’d never told Sean is that I was afraid of worms. It wasn’t something a boy my age would ever admit to his buddies, unless he wanted to find a few worms in his sleeping bag on the next camping trip.
My chest tightened as I saw their disgusting, slimy bodies. They were night crawlers, the biggest of the big, and they were everywhere. My mouth went as dry as dust. I couldn’t swallow.
I could hear Sean swearing up ahead. The scene was enough to gross him out, and as far as I knew, he wasn’t afraid of worms. Apparently deciding that the best thing to do was get it over with, my friend picked up speed. Cold worm guts splashed me in the face. My stomach clenched with the need to puke, but I kept on going, focusing on my friend’s broad back.
I could avoid seeing them, but I couldn’t stop hearing the sickening splat they made as our tires ran over them, crushing them into the concrete. Still, we were nearly past. My spirits rose, and even the rain seemed to be letting up. We could do this! We would do this.
And then Sean braked so suddenly I almost crashed into him.
“Jesus Jumping Liversnaps!” he screamed. “Holy monkey ass cock knocker!”
I pulled alongside, careful not to see the ground. I didn’t want to stop, because I’d have to put my feet down, so I circled in front. “What’s—” I started to ask, but then I saw.
Sean’s face was as white as milk. He was staring at his front tire, and his eyes were so big I was worried they would burst from his face. Curled through his spokes was a snake.
Garter snakes were pretty common in the fields nearby, and neither of us had a problem with them. We’d both kept them as pets and used them to scare girls. But garter snakes were harmless. Garter snakes didn’t hiss or spit. We knew this wasn’t a garter snake.
The creature reared back as if to strike, and Sean screamed. “Josh, what do I do? What do I do? It’s going to bite me.”
He was paralyzed with fear—otherwise he would have thrown down his bike and ran to safety, worms or no worms. I could see that if he continued sitting there, the snake was going to bite him, and maybe even kill him. So I said the only thing I could think of.
“Pedal, Sean! Pedal! It’ll fall off.”
I wasn’t sure if it would or not, but I figured anything was better than sitting there in the rain, waiting for the snake to bite. Sean took off with a yell, moving faster than ever before, pedaling as if his life depended on it. Which I guess it did, in a way. I could barely keep up, and soon it was hard to make out his yellow bike through the rain, but I could still hear him cussing.
Then I was riding over splotches of blood and bits of snake flesh, and I knew something had cut the grotesque reptile, slicing it to ribbons. I called for Sean to slow down—I knew our speed was dangerous, especially so close to the road, but the storm stole the words from my mouth and carried them in the opposite direction.
I went another mile without seeing a glimpse of my friend. Cold fear gripped my heart, and I worked harder. I’d never forgive myself if something had happened to Sean, but suddenly there he was, straddling his bike on the sidewalk. Seeing him gave me new energy, and I picked up speed, circling in front of him once more.
His red hair was nearly black from the rain and plastered to his poor pale face. Every clash of thunder made him tremble.
“Are you all right?” I asked, aware that the pack on my back had gained weight and was growing heavier by the second. We didn’t have much time. Lightning lit up the sky, making his freckles stand out in stark relief.
“I—I think so,” he said, and I could see in his eyes that he was truly terrified. Guilt added to the weight on my shoulders. I’d never told my friend that Edgar was much more than your average teddy bear. He’d had no idea what we were in for, but then again, neither had I. “How much farther, do you think?”
Peering through the driving rain, I saw that we were no longer in the town center. We’d been so concerned with the storm, the worms, and the snake that we hadn’t realized how far we’d come. Warehouses and factories with their bleak smokestacks rose out of the gloom.
“Not far. Maybe half an hour?” I guessed.
My heart leapt with hope. We were so close, and soon Edgar would be buried deep in the town dump, never to be seen again. The storm had been fierce enough that Mr. McGilvery was certain to have gone inside instead of waiting at his post by the gate. That would make sneaking in so much easier.
By unspoken agreement, we continued to cycle, and somehow the rain didn’t bother me as much anymore. It was like that moment in a race when you first glimpse the finish line. We had the wind at our backs and nothing was going to stop us.
We were flying past the town limits, leaving the storm behind us, our spirits soaring. Even Sean seemed to understand that we had passed some terrible test. He pumped his fist in the air and yodeled, turning back to flash me one of his trademark grins.
Before I could return the gesture, I heard it. The sound of tires screeching as they turned a corner, a car’s engine roaring as it chased after us. My fingers tightened on the handlebars again, and I picked up my pace, determined to close the distance between Sean and me.
I was convinced the car was behind me, so I wasn’t prepared for what came next. A black sedan that was all too familiar lurched out of the grayness of the afternoon, jumped the curb, and pulled onto the sidewalk in front of Sean. I screamed to warn my friend, but the storm had stolen my voice. I braked and watched in horror as the bike and the sedan careened toward each other. Sean managed to stop just seconds short of collision.
My heart leapt into my throat hard enough to choke me. I could have sworn something shifted in my pack again. By the time I’d recovered enough to join my friend, Sean was off his bike and yelling at the car, using his best swears and the most obscene gestures he could think of. I tugged his sleeve, knowing what was to come, and hoping we could get far, far away before it happened.
It was too late.
The driver’s side door popped open. My stepfather got out of the car and towered over us, glaring.
“Oh sheeeit,” I heard Sean mutter under his breath.
“What are you boys doing all the way out here? This is no place for children.” If he’d meant to sound concerned, he was failing horribly.
“Just going for a ride,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. He continued to stare at me in that spook
y way he had, oblivious to the beads of rain that formed on his suit lapels and the pools of water on his good shoes.
“For a ride? In Industrial Park? Does your mother know you come all the way out here? I don’t think she’d approve.” He took a threatening step toward me. “I certainly don’t.”
Sean hurried to get between us. “We’re good cyclists, sir. And we need the practice if we’re going to be allowed to participate in the big charity cycle in August.”
I never failed to be amazed by my friend’s smarts. The charity cycle was a long-distance bike ride that raised money for some disease or the starving kids in the Sudan or something. No kids had participated before, but there was no reason we couldn’t be the first.
“That’s an honorable goal, boys, but do you really think it’s a good idea to be practicing in this?” Michael gestured to the sky so the rain thrummed against his palm, water running through his fingers like blood.
“We can’t miss a one, sir. The charity cycle will be here before we know it.” When I saw the expression on Michael’s face, it was all I could do not to seize my friend by his collar and haul him safely out of striking distance.
“It’s too dangerous.” My stepfather took another step closer, the leather of his good shoes soaked and turning darker. “I’m sorry, boys, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to turn back. It’s not safe for you to be out in this. Your mothers would have my head if I let you continue.”
His thick, hammy fingers tightened into fists as he waited to see what I would do. My backpack gave a huge lurch, as if Edgar was trying to claw his way out. Michael’s eyes widened, but not as much as Sean’s.
“What on earth do you have in that bag?” Michael asked, but I could see in his eyes that he knew exactly what was in my pack. I nodded at Sean—it was just the slightest tip of my chin, but my friend understood. Without another word to Michael, I bent low over my handlebars and took off as fast as I could, swerving off the sidewalk and cutting into the concrete jungle of parking lots that surrounded us.
I guided my bike around orange pylons and the huge Road Closed signs that were like small fences. Anytime I spotted an obstacle that would make it impossible for a car to follow us, I headed in that direction. By the time we reached the dump, Michael and his black sedan were nowhere to be seen.
The rain had quieted to a gentle drizzle as we stashed our bikes in a nearby ditch and sprinted for the hole in the chain-link fence. The torn and twisted metal reached out to restrain us, snagging our shirts and jeans and tearing a large patch from one of Sean’s socks, but we pushed on, our hands and knees slick with cold mud as we slid through the opening.
As suspected, Mr. McGilvery was nowhere to be found. We stayed low to the ground as we scurried through the dump, searching for a hiding place where we could rest. Finally we found an old truck that still had a working door and climbed inside, pressing our backs gratefully against the seat, which was leaking yellow stuffing and had a funny smell. I tossed my pack outside, where it landed in the mud. Edgar didn’t deserve shelter.
Sean let out a low whistle. “That was close,” he said, causing us both to collapse into helpless giggles. We laughed until we were nearly sick, clutching our sides and our sore stomachs. “Your stepfather is one scary-ass monkey weasel.”
I was too weak from laughing to speak. My friend was quiet for a moment while we both calmed down. “That bear…it isn’t just a toy, is it?”
I shook my head. I had no proof, but I was willing to bet that everything that had happened so far was Edgar’s doing, from the storm to the sudden appearance of my stepfather.
“Well, then let’s get rid of the ugly mofo. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my weekend hanging around here.”
We climbed out of the truck as quietly as we could, scanning the piles of garbage for any sign of McGilvery. Our spirits had lightened along with the storm and soon we made it into a game, acting like G.I. Joe on a mission as we crept among the piles of garbage. I was glad I was staying over at Sean’s that night—there would be no explaining the unsavory mess I was making of my jeans. Not to mention how awesome it would be to have a full evening without Michael.
Sean wrinkled his nose as we passed one particularly ripe pile of trash. “Nasty.”
“Let’s stop here. This is perfect.”
“Here?”
“Trust me, this is where Edgar belongs.”
“Edgar?” My friend’s eyes lit up like they always did when he saw an opportunity to taunt someone, but he still took a step back when I unzipped my pack.
“What is it, Sean? Scared of a little teddy bear?” Snickering, I reached into the bag, only to yank my hand back with a yelp. Several drops of blood appeared at the tip of my index finger.
“W-what happened?” The color had returned to my friend’s cheeks during our little landfill adventure, but now he was that sickly white again. He retreated another step.
“I-I think it bit me.” Before Sean could burst into another round of laughter, I held up my hand. Blood from the wound trickled down my finger in a race to my wrist. There wasn’t a lot of it, but it hurt like hell. My entire hand throbbed in sympathy.
“That’s sincerely messed up.” He looked askance at the bag as if it contained a bomb rather than a teddy bear. “What are we going to do?”
As I sucked my finger to numb the pain and stop the bleeding, I felt something unusual—rage. The anger started in my stomach as a hot coal, and grew and grew, until I could taste fire in my throat. I grabbed my backpack by the strap and, flipping it over, shook it as hard as I could. Mom’s spade fell to the ground with a clunk, narrowly missing my toes. Edgar failed to make an appearance, but that was okay. I didn’t need to see him in order to bury him.
Throwing my pack to the ground, I started to dig. My eyes watered from the stench of years and years’ worth of garbage. Old diapers, rotten vegetables, cans crusted over with dried gunk that looked like boogers—I had to breathe through my mouth to keep from retching. The more frantically I swung the little shovel, the more Sean retreated, until he was standing several feet away.
“That’s good enough! Toss it in, and let’s get the hell out of here.”
I knew he was right. I was up to my knees in trash, and the hole I’d dug was so deep that the ground underneath me was feeling soft. One wrong move and I’d slide down into the sinkhole I’d created.
Reaching into my bag for Edgar again was more than I could handle, but the thought of staring into that darkness at his snarling face was almost worse. I knew it was crazy, but what if his expression had changed? What if he was grinning at me? What if he attacked me again?
My foot shot out and kicked the bag as if it were a soccer ball. I put everything I had into that kick, and my backpack went flying, landing with a whump at the bottom of the hole. Mom would be furious when she saw the bag was missing—it was almost new, and like she never tired of reminding me, we weren’t made of money. But she would forgive me eventually. It was better this way, even if I had to carry my books in a paper bag next year. Once Edgar was gone, things would return to normal in our house, and that was worth sacrificing a backpack.
We filled that hole in record time. Scrambling through the junkyard, we hurried to the fence and freedom. The trip back to Sean’s was a lot faster than getting to the landfill had been. We lifted our butts off our seats and pedaled like mad. Only when we’d reached the intersection of Willow Street and Forty-Fifth did we stop to catch our breath. Sean grinned.
“That was craptastic!”
I felt better than I had in a long time. My smile was so wide it threatened to split my face. Popping a wheelie, I tore off down the sidewalk, knowing that Sean would not be far behind. Soon he was popping wheelies too, as we competed to see who could stay aloft the longest.
We almost passed his house, barely able to skid to a stop. Our tor
tured tires left black, rubbery streaks on his driveway.
“Wow…we’re really going to catch it,” Sean said. He was staring at my pants, which were covered by a wide variety of the most foul-smelling garbage on the planet. Fortunately, his mom was still working the weekend shift, and we were able to slip inside the house without anyone noticing. While music blared through Sean’s brothers’ bedroom door, we scrubbed and lathered and repeated, hoping to rid ourselves of the smell that had followed us home from the landfill.
We found some rubbing alcohol under the bathroom sink, and Sean poured it over my finger, hoping to prevent an infection. Now that I was safely away from Edgar, I could give my injuries some attention.
Deep purple rings surrounded the punctures on my finger.
“That’s pretty bad, man. Maybe you should see a doctor.”
I knew Sean was serious when he didn’t swear. But I shook my head and instead took the Band-Aid he offered, wrapping it tightly around my finger so all I could feel was the throbbing of my own blood as it fought to get through.
When Sean’s mother got home, she wrinkled her nose in spite of the showers we had taken.
“What’s that awful smell? What have you boys been up to?”
“Nothing, Mom, just fooling around, you know.”
“Well, whatever you were doing, please don’t do it again. You both reek. You’ll have to wash up before dinner or you’ll stink us all out of the kitchen.”
With some good-natured grumbling, we raced upstairs to take second showers. I’m not sure about Sean, but my grumbling was mostly for show. I was more than happy to be free of the smell of the landfill.
The rest of the evening was a blast. With very little arm-twisting, Sean’s mom agreed to order pizza for dinner. When the food arrived, we headed downstairs with most of the booty, some cold cans of Coke, and Sean’s two little brothers. We challenged each other to games of Super Mario and watched silly movies until our sides hurt from laughing and Sean’s mom sent us to bed.
