Evil Heights, Book III: Lost and Found

by Michael Swanson

  Ronnie smiled again, though a weak one. “If it was a powerful stink you smelled, then I'm sure it was Fat Larry.” Ronnie waved his hand in front of his nose.

  They both laughed, the tension broken.

  "So when am I gonna meet this Phoebe?” Ronnie asked eagerly. “Do you think she has a friend for me?"

  "I don't think so,” Lee came back. “Least not around here. She's from Gatlinburg, remember? She's just visiting for the summer and helping her aunt out with the babies.” Lee kicked back on his milk crate, slamming against the wall and causing the whole tree house to shake with the impact. “I've been doing my damndest to get to see her all week, but they always say she's too busy."

  "Why can't you just take me over there to meet her right now?” Ronnie asked.

  "I told you. She's helping out her Aunt and Uncle. They've got new twin baby girls and a little three-year-old. Her Uncle Boyd's a real jerk and almost never lets her go out.” Lee counted off his fingers “I went by Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. No dice. I even stopped by this morning on my way over to see you. Her aunt, Darlene, wouldn't even let me talk to her. It's like she's some kind of prisoner or something."

  "Don't you think you should maybe play a little hard to get? You keep going over there, and she's gonna know you like her."

  Ronnie's teen logic was irrefutable.

  "Yeah, well,” Lee blurted out. “Maybe I do like her."

  Ronnie smiled lecherously. “Is that gonna stop you from going over to Art's mom's store this Saturday to help ol’ Art, you know, keep an eye on things?"

  "Are you kidding?” Lee's grin matched Ronnie's. “I'm on a roll here. I said I liked, not that I'm going to marry her."

  "That's the Lee I know.” Ronnie nodded his head approvingly. “Man, oh man, I hope ya'll get lucky."

  "Could you imagine if Peggy Bliss came in?” Lee asked. “What if she tried on a bathing suit?"

  "In your dreams,” Ronnie came back.

  The two boys talked a little more, fantasizing about best-case scenarios for Lee's Saturday at Wrennie's Boutique, while Ronnie coughed his way through another of the smashed cigarettes. Flipping the butt out the door, he turned back to Lee who was looking out the window at the river. “You know. We need to have us a camp out."

  "That'd be great,” Lee replied eagerly. “When?"

  "Soon. Some Saturday night. We'll get some of the guys, too. It'll be a blast."

  "Yeah, a Saturday night would be good.” Lee seemed to come back to reality as he took his eyes off the river. “Tonight my dad and Maggie are going out with Uncle Ed and Miss Laura to see that new scary movie, Psycho. I wanted to go, but I've got to stay home with Patty."

  "Awww, that's not fair.” Ronnie slapped the ratty door curtain, and a cloud of dust fell away. “I've heard about that movie. I'd sure like to see it. I heard it's really keen-o. Scare the pants off ya.” Ronnie grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Course you know all about that, don't ya?” With the success of TV shows like, “You Bet Your Life,” everybody seemed to have a Groucho Marx imitation.

  "Yeah, well. That's all I need. Anyway, I'm not going to get to go. Maggie says Patty is too little, and so I've got to stay home and baby sit. You ought to come over and hang around,” Lee offered optimistically. “You haven't even seen our new TV."

  "No I haven't,” Ronnie came back. “With everything you've been telling me I don't know if I want to, either. Sounds to me like you're pretty much living Psycho over there."

  "You know, Ronnie,” Lee said wistfully, “it's too bad your mom and Maggie don't get along. If I could get Maggie to bring Patty over to play with your sisters, then maybe I could talk to my dad and get him to let you and I go, too."

  "Maggie doesn't get along with anybody,” Ronnie echoed. “She didn't have any friends when y'all lived over on Keystone, and I doubt she'll get any livin’ in Cherry Heights, unless it's with a ghost. What's always up with her? She's about the crabbiest person I ever met, next to Old Lady Ringle."

  Lee shrugged. “I don't know. Some times she can be all right.” He paused and thought. “I think it has something to do with how she was raised. From what I've heard, my grandparents always favored my real mom. I guess it was because my real mom was so pretty and popular and all that. Not that Maggie's ugly, when she's not scowling all the time. But everyone says that everyone really liked my mom. And you know, she was a cheerleader and the home coming queen and all that. I think Maggie's always been jealous, and so sometimes she's acts kind of mean even when she doesn't really mean to be."

  "Well, she's got everything that was your real mom's,” Ronnie argued. “So what's she got to be jealous about now? She's got your dad, she's got you, hell, even your grandma's house, her car, everything."

  "Maybe she'll be happy now,” Lee offered, feeling stupid and naive right after he'd said it.

  "And why is it she's always lording it all over on folks about using ain't?” Ronnie pressed on. “She didn't even graduate high school, for Christ's sake."

  "I think that's part of it,” Lee came back. “She feels kind of inferior, so she picks on stuff. It makes her feel better."

  Ronnie sat up, his attention suddenly drawn outside. “Hey, did you hear that?” Ronnie reached over to pull open the door flap and look out.

  Lee'd heard it, too. Someone was definitely coming down the trail.

  Lee squeezed in next to Ronnie to look out and try to catch a glimpse of who it might be.

  CHAPTER TWO: CARL'S TALE

  Daryl Willis, followed by Carl and the two other boys Lee recognized as those he and Phoebe had seen floating on the river, emerged from the trail.

  "Hey, Carl, look at the bike!” Lee heard one of the strangers call out as they entered the clearing. “Looks like someone left us a present."

  That was all Lee needed. He pulled back the flap and stepped right out onto the short landing they called the balcony.

  The boys on the ground looked up at the sound of the noise from above.

  "Hey Carl,” Lee called down.

  The unknown boy didn't pay Lee much attention. He walked over to Lee's bike and grabbed a handle bar. “Damn, Carl, this here looks brand spankin’ new."

  "You'd do best to keep your hands off my bike.” Lee's tone was unmistakable.

  The boy put his left hand up over his eyes to block the sun coming through the branches and looked up at whomever it was calling down to him. The boy was maybe fourteen or fifteen, but thin and stringy. His skin and hair were fish-belly white, and he had rims of pink around his eyes. He was wearing nothing but a pair of ragged cut-offs hanging low off his bony hips, and his filthy bare feet looked as though they'd never seen a pair of shoes in his life.

  "Who the hell are you?” The pink-eyed boy yelled back. He turned to look at Carl, “You know this here yeller dawg?"

  Carl didn't return Pink Eye's gaze; he kept his attention fixed up on Lee.

  Carl nodded. “Hey, Lee."

  Ronnie moved out from behind the door flap forcing Lee to move closer to the edge.

  "Well, shit fire. There's two of ‘em up there.” The boy still had a hand on Lee's handle bar. He reached out pushing the smaller boy. “Probably been up there pokin’ each other in the butt."

  The albino thought this was hilarious and brayed out with a honking laugh. The other boys, except for Carl, joined in the fun as well.

  Pink Eye, noticing Carl wasn't laughing, looked over to the rangy teen. “What the hell's the matter with you, Carl?"

  "I'm just thinkin',” Carl answered softly.

  "Yeah, ‘bout what?” Pink Eye had to stick a finger up one nostril and bend over to blow a stream of snot out of the other. When he came back up he asked, “Why ain't ya’ laughin'?"

  Carl, very matter-of-factly said, “I'm thinkin’ ‘bout whether or not I'll leave you layin’ here, or get Daryl and Maurice to drag your sorry butt back to the house after Lee up there comes down and beats the shit outta you for smartin’ off and fuckin’ with his bike."r />
  Immediately, Pink Eye's wild, sloppy mouth expression changed. “Shit, we're cousins, Carl."

  Carl had a brown paper grocery bag rolled up under one arm. He too, had on a pair of cut off jeans like the rest of their group, but was also wearing a sleeveless and collarless denim work shirt, which showed off his powerful biceps and shoulders. “You know, Pink Eye?” He kept that same dry tone. “I ain't seen me a really good goddamn fight since I was lucky enough to watch ol’ Lee here beat the shit out of this big dumb ass out back of the movie theatre a while back. I'm thinkin’ it's probably ‘bout time I'm due to see me another."

  The albino looked up at Lee; all the hilarity was gone. “I ain't done nuthin'. I was just lookin’ at it.” He turned to Daryl. “I ain't done nuthin, did I?"

  Daryl shook his head. “He ain't done shit."

  Pink Eye looked over to the smaller boy hanging back in back of Daryl. The kid had a set of oversized buck teeth way too large for his mouth and appeared to be no more than eleven or twelve-year-old. His stubbly burr haircut showed a number of white scars on his scalp. He shook his head in agreement. “Yeah, he ain't done nuthin'."

  "Y'all wanna come on up in our tree house?” Lee called down.

  Carl shaded his eyes as he looked up. “Is this here y'all's tree house?"

  "Yeah,” Lee hitched his thumb at Ronnie who was still hanging in back, not saying a thing. “Ronnie and me, we built it last summer."

  "Y'all did a hell of a job.” Carl handed his bag over to Daryl. Getting a grip on one of the higher boards of the ladder, Carl talked while he started up. “I've brought me a girl or two here before. I've spent a night or two up here, too. The place even stays dry when it's rainin'."

  Lee and Ronnie had to move inside to allow Carl to get up on the balcony. Once up, Daryl threw Carl the bag, which clinked loudly of glass when Carl caught it. Once inside Lee moved quickly to the river view window to keep an eye on his bike down below.

  Carl pulled the flap aside and came in. His head was a few inches below the door frame, but he ducked down anyway. In short order the other three boys had followed Carl up the ladder and everyone was crowded around, with only Lee and Carl sitting on the two milk crates.

  "This here's Ray,” Carl said pointing to the albino. “We call him Pink Eye. And that one there's his step-brother, Maurice."

  "Hi, y'all,” said the Maurice who'd sat down cross-legged on the filthy carpet between Pink Eye and Daryl. He extended his hand. “My name's Maurice Boone. I'm kin to Dan'l Boone."

  "Me too,” chimed in Pink Eye.

  Carl and the other two boys looked at Pink Eye.

  "Like hell you are,” Daryl scowled. “Just ‘cause yer ma married Maurice's daddy don't make you no blood relation.” He pushed at Pink Eye. “You're so full of shit, you stink."

  All Pink Eye could do was glare.

  "I'm Lee, Lee Coombs,” Lee said. “My friend over there is Ronnie McGiver."

  "Yeah, we're the ones that built this tree house,” Ronnie said for no apparent reason.

  "That's what Lee said before,” Carl said dryly. “Smell's like y'all been smokin’ in here. I didn't think you boys were the kind that smoked?"

  Ronnie quickly produced his crushed pack of Pall Malls from his pocket, though it did require a certain amount of wiggling around to get it out since they were all so jammed in.

  "You want one?” Ronnie proudly offered the pack to Carl.

  "Damn, them things are all squished up like worms,” Carl laughed. He removed a red box of Marlboros from his shirt pocket. Popping the top of the box open, Carl bared his teeth and snagged one filter tip pulling it out of the box and working it into his lips without ever using his fingers to touch the cigarette. Sticking the box back in his pocket, he produced his chrome Zippo lighter. With one quick flip of his wrist, making Ronnie and Pink Eye jump, he had the lighter opened and lit.

  Ronnie got out one of his squashed Pall Malls and quickly tried to straighten it to resemble a cigarette. Once he had it in a reasonably smokable form, Carl did his lighter trick again and gave Ronnie a light.

  "How ‘bout me?” asked Pink Eye.

  Since Carl made no move to offer any of his Marlboros, Ronnie passed his pack around. Soon Lee was the only one who didn't have a cigarette hanging from his lips, though the smoke in the tree house was quickly so thick he might as well have had one too.

  "You don't smoke?” Pink Eye looked at Lee, like he had three noses and an arrow through his head.

  "Nope,” was all Lee offered as a reply.

  "Shit, everybody smokes,” Pink Eye responded. “Right, Carl?"

  "I don't give a damn if he does or he doesn't,” Carl came back coolly. “But I can tell ya'll I fer damn sure ain't gonna lose any sleep over it. If you ask me, it's better if a guy don't smoke, than those dickheads that ain't never got any, just go ‘round bummin'."

  Pink Eye didn't say anything; he just dragged on the Pall Mall he'd bummed from Ronnie.

  "Y'all still got that big ass turtle?” Lee asked.

  "Which one?” Daryl didn't even look up at Lee as he scouted for a place to flip his ash. Not finding a suitable spot he simply knocked it off onto Maurice's leg.

  "Oww! Shit, Daryl!” Maurice complained rubbing the ash off his leg. “That burnt some of the hide off me."

  Daryl showed his mean grin. “Tough tittie."

  "Yeah, we still got that turtle,” Carl spoke up. “That's if you're talkin’ ‘bout that big black snappin’ sonofabitch."

  "Yeah, that's the one.” Lee grinned his own grin, lightening the mood somewhat. “Did y'all ever decide to feed Alton to it? I ain't seen him around here much lately."

  Even Carl couldn't suppress a grin at this. “We tried to, but the turtle kept throwin’ him back up."

  "He's too sour,” added Daryl. “Worse than a green persimmon. It's ‘cause he don't never take a bath."

  "Yeah? Like you do?” Carl said and rolled open the brown paper bag drawing out four Nehi soda bottles, each filled with a clear liquid. They were sealed at the top with plastic wrap and wound up rubber bands.

  "Y'all ever drink any white lightenin'?"

  Both Ronnie and Lee looked at each other and then back to Carl.

  "Sure,” said Ronnie at the same instant Lee said, “Nope."

  "Don't matter,” Carl said. “We weren't plannin’ on sharin'.” Carl passed the bottles out one by one to Daryl, Pink Eye, and Maurice. “If y'all want some, maybe y'all can trade for a drink. These boys might let y'all have a sip or two for a few of them squashed smokes. That is if y'all got a hankerin’ for a taste of some of the best damn hooch this side of the Mississippi."

  Carl pulled off the plastic and rubber band from his bottle and took a big swallow with Daryl and the other two boys following right along.

  Lee could smell it from where he sat, like a mixture of paint thinner and fruit juice. For a moment he wondered if the tree house might explode the next time someone lit up.

  "You work at that Esso gas station over on Highway 57, don't you Carl?” Lee asked.

  Carl took another big jolt. “Yeah. I saw ya’ drive by the other day. You was with your old man, weren't ya? Y'all was in a Green ‘57 Ford Fairlane?"

  Lee nodded. “Yeah, my dad was takin’ me to Patterson's so I could buy that new bike y'all saw down there.” Second time he'd used y'all. Lee noticed it, but couldn't help himself. He knew he was drawling, too, but would have felt funny speaking any other way around these boys.

  Pink Eye just couldn't leave well enough alone. He nudged Daryl in the ribs. “He got himself a rich daddy, huh?"

  Surprisingly, it was Ronnie who spoke up.

  "Hell, Lee worked for that bike. He spent more than a week over at the Ballard house diggin’ up and replantin’ Old Lady Ballard's roses."

  "No shit?” Daryl had to lean around Pink Eye to look at Lee. “You been hangin’ ‘round over there?"

  Lee nodded.

  "Who the fuck's Old Lady Ballard?” Pink Eye's
speech seemed already to be starting to slur.

  "She's this rich ol’ bitch livin’ in this big ass haunted house,” Daryl replied. “Y'all've seen the place. It was just down the road a piece from the train yard, sort of across from that nasty ass swamp I showed y'all the other day when we went to go tubin'.” Daryl wiped his lips and took another drink. “All that around there's called Cherry Heights."

  Pink Eye grinned. “Is that ‘cause a bunch of pussies got their cherry popped there?"

  "Well, that'd have to include you,” Daryl immediately came back. “You're the biggest pussy I know, Pink Eye."

  As Pink Eye scowled, but bit his tongue, Maurice spoke up, “Yeah, Daryl, we remember the place. It's got all those trees all chopped to shit."

  "You took ‘em to the swamp,” Carl broke in.

  "Yeah,” Daryl answered. “You was workin'. We walked past when we was headin’ to the highway bridge with our tubes."

  "Swamp?” Ronnie asked. “What swamp?"

  "I think they're talkin’ about Broaddus Marsh,” Lee interjected. He looked to Daryl. “Y'all went poking around the marsh?"

  "Shit, yeah,” Daryl came back, coughing and sputtering. “I figure it'd be one hell of a place to gig a mess of frogs."

  Lee remembered the bloody bucket of frogs Alton had knocked over. He figured the Willis clan must eat more frog legs that the rest of the whole county combined. And to think Maggie had been upset that he had eaten bar-b-qued goat leg.

  "Don't let Daryl yank your chain,” Carl spoke up. “He didn't go back in there. He's full of shit. Hell, even I ain't crazy enough to go back in there. No more, no way, no how.” He looked one by one to each boy. “Y'all wanna hear somethin'? I ain't told nobody ‘bout this, but I checked that place out right after we hit town a couple of years back. It ain't a place to go fuckin’ ‘around in."

  For the first time Lee caught a glimpse of a Carl Willis who looked afraid of something.