Backtracker

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  Excited murmuring rippled through the trailer, and heads nodded in comprehension of Billy's instructions.

  "Everybody who isn't underage, stay in the trailer," continued Billy. "Make sure the others all get out." Like a lieutenant briefing his squad on a crucial military exercise, he surveyed his crew with a steady, stern gaze and nodded curtly. "I'm goin' out front now. Soon as I close the door behind me, get movin'."

  The cop knocked again, and Billy glanced at the door. "Well," he grinned impishly, "here goes nothin'." He motioned for everyone to clear away from the door, and the mob shifted in response, flowing out of the cop's line of sight.

  Confidently, Billy strode to the front door and opened it. "Hey, how ya' doin'?" he said pleasantly, nodding and smiling at the cop. Smoothly, he stepped forward and pushed open the outer screen door, simultaneously tugging the inner door shut behind him.

  Once their leader had gone, the gang started to move. Whispering, shushing each other, the guests split their ranks; those who were under the age of twenty-one trundled toward the back door, while those who were legally old enough to drink hung back. Soon, only a handful of people remained in the living room.

  Most of the kitchen crew stayed right where they were. Jeff Tressler was the only one who had to sneak away; giggling, grinning like a chimp, he waved goodbye and tiptoed from the room.

  Unexpectedly, Boris Blovitz stood and started to leave, too.

  "Boris, what the hell're you doin'?" Jack asked incredulously.

  "I'm going outside," Boris whispered loudly, hauling his considerable girth around the kitchen table.

  "Boris, you don't have to," smirked Ernie. "You're twenty-one, remember?"

  "So?" Boris shrugged. "Maybe I just feel like getting some fresh air."

  "Just stay in here, you goof," snorted Jack.

  "I wanna' get in on the fun," Boris whispered excitedly. "I wanna' play head games with the cops."

  "Oh, great," sighed Becky D'Amoto.

  "I'll run interference for everyone else," explained the big galoot, a thrilled flutter in his voice. "If the cops come around back, I'll make sure they find me. Then, I'll whip out my I.D. and laugh in their faces. Oh, I can see it now!"

  "You know what I can see?" Jack nailed sardonically. "You gettin' hauled away in the back of a cop cruiser!"

  "Okay with me," grinned Boris. "I've always wanted to go on a cruise."

  "Do me a favor, Boris," Becky said severely. "Don't mess with the cop, okay? Don't make things worse."

  "Moi?" piped the curly-haired gremlin. "Make things worse? Surely you know better by now, my little rosebud! When Boris is near, there is nothing to fear!" Cackling, gleefully rubbing his paws together, he turned and loped away, heading for the back door and whatever insane deeds were bubbling in the cauldron of his brain. On his way through the living room, he paused at the front door, beyond which the cop lurked; grimacing and gritting his teeth, he held his thick forefingers in the shape of a cross, brandishing them at the door as if he were fending off a vampire. He grunted and struggled there for a moment, then continued on his way, rudely pushing ahead of others seeking escape from the trailer.

  "Ohhh boy," sighed Jack, slumping back in his chair. "Boris playing head games with the cops. That's all we need."

  "You don't think he's going to do anything, do you?" Darlene asked worriedly.

  "Who the hell knows?" laughed Jack. "Boris is pretty unpredictable."

  "Oh," Darlene said simply, looking concerned.

  "I wonder what the cop wants," said Jane Niessner.

  "He's probably pissed 'cause we didn't invite him to the party," smirked Jack.

  "No, seriously," said Jane. "You think he'll bust us or something?"

  "He won't bust anyone," sniffed Ernie. "By the time he gets in to take a look around, all the youngsters will be out in the woods. All he'll see is us, and we're just a bunch of old farts."

  "Hey," protested Becky. "Speak for yourself, Ernie. I'm no old fart!"

  "I don't think the cop's here to look for underage drinkers," offered Larry. "If he was, I doubt he'd be here on his own."

  "Yeah, that's true," Dave nodded reflectively. "There probably would've been more than one."

  "Maybe there are more," suggested Becky. "Maybe there's some out in his car."

  "Nah," dismissed Jack. "If there were more, they wouldn't've stayed in the cruiser. They've got a whole trailerful of people to handle here."

  "I believe Larry's right," added Ernie. "If they were going to raid the party, they would've done it by now. It must be something else."

  "Like what?" wondered Dave.

  "Disturbing the peace?" offered Jane. "Maybe somebody called and griped about us making noise."

  "Uh-uh," rejected Jack. "There's no neighbors for like a mile on one side, and it's just Billy's landlady on the other, and she'd never sic the cops on us."

  "Well, maybe she finally decided she's had enough," said Jane.

  "No way," Jack said insistently. "Mrs. Tish is cool."

  "So why do you think the cop's here?" Dave asked Larry.

  "I bet it's nothing serious," said Larry, stroking his goatee. "Anyway," he continued, gazing past Dave and into the living room, "I think we're about to get a full report from our man on the scene."

  The kitchen crew turned as one and saw the front door sweep open. Everyone watched anxiously as Billy Bristol reentered the trailer and let the screen door snap shut behind him.

  Audible sighs of relief gusted from the gang for two reasons: Billy was alone, wasn't accompanied by the policeman; not only that, but the whippersnapper had a smile on his face.

  "Yo, Billy!" shouted Jack. "What's the story, bud?"

  "It's getting cold out," teased Billy. "I should've put my coat on."

  "What a bonehead," chortled Jack. "I wanna' know about the cop, not the weather."

  "Yeah," hollered Becky. "What happened out there?"

  "Oh, nothing much," Billy said lackadaisically. "He just stopped by to see if we needed him to make a beer run or anything." Sidling up to the counter, Billy leaned lazily against it, elbows propped on its surface.

  "Aw, come on, Billy," bristled Becky. "Just tell us what happened."

  "Okay, okay," Billy surrendered with a twinkle in his eye. "I'll tell you the truth. the cop wasn't here to make a beer run."

  "So what was it all about?" Darlene asked impatiently.

  "Larry was right," shrugged Billy.

  "About what?" asked Ernie.

  "About parking by the road," Billy replied casually. "Remember how he asked if it was okay for us to park like that, and he said sometimes they get picky about that kind'a stuff? Well, they got picky."

  "Really?" Jane piped in a surprised voice. "That's all he wanted?"

  "Yup," nodded Billy. "The cop said most of the cars are too far out on the road. He was really cool about it, though. He said he could fine us, but he'd just give us a warning instead, as long as we move the cars further off the road."

  "Well I'll be damned," chuckled Jack.

  "Yeah," grinned Billy. "It was just a false alarm."

  "Gee, it's kind of a disappointment," said Ernie. "After all that excitement, I was expecting something a little more dramatic."

  "Maybe you're let-down," slung Jane, "but not me. I'm glad this ended without any trouble."

  "Join the club," nodded Becky. "That's all we would've needed was a raid."

  "Aw, we would've handled it," boasted Billy. "We were ready for a raid. We were pre-pared!"

  "I have to admit, that was an excellent escape plan for the youngsters," praised Ernie. "They got out of here pretty quickly."

  "Yeah," laughed Billy. "I think that was the fastest this trailer's ever cleared out during one of my parties."

  "Hey Larry!" barked Jack then. "That was a good call you made. You hit that parking deal right on the nose."

  "Well, thanks, I guess," Larry said with a shrug. "It really wasn't a good call, though. I just wondered if you guy
s ever had any problems leaving your cars by the road."

  "We never did till tonight," laughed Billy.

  "That really was something," added Ernie. "The first time anybody mentions it, and it happens."

  Staring at Larry, Dave thought about the encounter with the cop, and the full impact of the situation slugged him for the first time.

  In his earlier comments, Larry had asked about trouble with the township, had mentioned incursions by the police...and incredibly, these things had come to pass. However, he hadn't only anticipated such difficulties, but had seemingly predicted their specific cause as well. In discussing the party parking scheme-something that no one had ever given a second thought to-Larry had put his finger on the exact nature of the problem that the gang faced later in the evening.

  Dave decided that either Larry was very lucky, amazingly good at figuring things out...or he was something else.

  Emboldened by all the beer in his system, Dave did something that he typically avoided: he came right out and asked the question that was on his mind. "Hey Larry," he said slowly, staring at the guy. "Are you psychic or something?"

  In response, the mystery man laughed and shook his head. "No way," he chuckled, grinning at Dave. "I can't even guess which day of the week tomorrow will be!"

  "Damn! That's too bad!" wailed Billy. "I could use somebody who can tell the future. That way, I wouldn't have to guess if a girl's gonna' say 'yes.' I wouldn't have to waste my time on the ones who'll say 'no'!"

  "That would be a time-saver," chuckled Ernie.

  "Well, I just wondered," shrugged Dave. "It seems like you're pretty good at picking up on things that're going to happen."

  "I'm just a good guesser," winked Larry.

  "I see," nodded Dave.

  "Well, let's go find the kids," said Billy, clapping his hands. "We'll round everybody up, and then we better go move our cars. I don't want the cop to cruise by and see we still haven't done like he told us."

  "Yeah," tossed Jack. "He might throw us all in jail for the rest of our lives or somethin'!"

  "You could use a little jail time," laughed Ernie, and then they all went out to call the prodigal guests back to the fold.

  *****

  It didn't take long to retrieve the refugees and remedy the parking situation, and before long, the party was again in full swing. It actually became livelier than it had been before the coming of the cop: the stereo was turned up louder than before; laughter and shouts were more frequent and more boisterous; the keg was drained at a faster pace than ever; and some people even started to dance, bucking and stomping as much as they could in the overcrowded place. As if trying to make up for the time lost during the party's interruption, everyone shifted into high gear.

  Dave Heinrich gladly threw himself into the frivolity, joking and mingling and soaking up plenty of beer. With Darlene at his side, he swam from one knot of friends to the next, a grin on his face and a beer in his hand. Still loose and untroubled, he made the rounds lightly, listening and laughing as everyone discussed the recent crisis, adding his own opinions and quips on the matter.

  Darlene was all smiles, too, and seemed very animated and entertained. As she traveled through the crowd with her escort, she also joined in the conversations, chatting enthusiastically and giggling often. Though she hadn't been drinking earlier, she helped herself to the beer, matching Dave's intake cup for cup.

  Warmed by the alcohol, invigorated by the party, Dave felt carefree and confident. As he watched Darlene's bright, engaging features, he felt happy and proud, proud to be seen with her, powerfully attracted. After a while, he took her hand and drew her out of the crowd, led her around a corner and into the small spare room.

  For once, the room was deserted, occupied only by an old bureau and stacks of boxes. Smiling, Dave tugged the door shut and turned off the light; the walls dulled the party noise just enough to lend the niche a touch of privacy.

  Slipping together in the shadows of their haven, Dave and Darlene embraced, exchanging tender whispers. While the party raged around them, they kissed passionately, each focused only on the other, miraculously oblivious to the ruckus beyond the room.

  Then, without warning, the door flew open. Surprised, the lovers quickly broke their kiss and spun to see who had barged in on their rendezvous.

  It was Larry Smith. Panting, hulking in the doorway, he gaped at them.

  "Hey, Larry," Dave said congenially. "What's up?"

  "Damnit!" the guy shot in a hushed but angry voice. "What did I tell you to do? What did I tell you to do?"

  "Uh, I don't know," shrugged Dave.

  "Boris!" snapped Larry, unexpectedly plunging forward and grabbing a fistful of Dave's shirt. "Where is he?"

  Stunned, shaken, drunk, Dave couldn't immediately make a connection to what Larry was saying. "I...I don't know!" he stammered.

  "You were supposed to watch him!" barked Larry, glaring furiously. "I told you to watch him!"

  The beery fog in his brain parted just enough for Dave to remember his earlier talk with Larry, his promise to keep an eye on Boris Blovitz. He hadn't thought about it for so long, and so much had happened since then, that he'd forgotten about it. "I did!" he sputtered. "I watched him, but he was okay!"

  "When was the last time you saw him?" snarled Larry.

  "Uh, I don't know," burbled Dave, unnerved by the rage in Larry's face. "He...before Billy came back in! When the cop was here! He went outside!"

  Pausing, Larry looked past Dave, stared for an instant at the back door of the trailer. His expression changed, registering panic along with the anger.

  "He...is still...out there," Larry whispered through tightly clenched teeth.

  "What's wrong?" winced Dave. "Why are you..."

  "Come on," Larry flung brusquely, suddenly charging forward, pulling Dave along with him.

  "What are you doing?" Darlene shouted as her boyfriend was dragged toward the back door. "Larry, where are you going?"

  One hand on the doorknob, one hand clutching Dave's shirt, Larry stopped in his tracks at the sound of the girl's disturbed cry. Shoulders rising and falling in a rapid rhythm, he hesitated for an instant, closing his eyes as if trying to regain his composure. "Darlene," he said at last, turning to cast a grim gaze at her. "This is very important. Dave and I have to find Boris. What I want you to do is stay here, and don't say anything about this to anyone."

  "But what's this all about?" pressed Darlene. "Is something wrong with Boris?"

  "I don't know," Larry said sternly.

  "I'll go with you," she said, her voice a mixture of insistence and uncertainty. "I want to help."

  "No!" hurled Larry. "You can't help! Just stay here! Please, trust me!"

  For a moment, Darlene just stared at him, her wide eyes fixed on his harried, furtive features.

  "Why can't I tell anyone?" she asked finally.

  "Just don't," Larry answered in a firm but calmer voice. "Trust me," he said, holding her gaze with beseeching, blazing eyes.

  "All right," agreed Darlene. "I won't tell anyone."

  Larry nodded, and there was gratitude in his eyes. Turning away from her then, he wrenched the door open and hurried outside, jolting Dave in his wake.

  "If anybody asks about us," Larry called over his shoulder, "we went for a walk!"

  "Okay," replied Darlene, watching worriedly as the two hustled toward the woods. "Okay," she repeated softly, lingering at the threshold.

  Marching purposefully through the clearing behind the trailer, Larry released Dave's shirt, motioning for him to keep pace on his own initiative. Though drunk and dazed, Dave lagged behind by no more than a few steps.

  "What's going on, Larry?" he asked as they entered the woods, strode rapidly onto a narrow, unkempt path. "What the hell's this all about?"

  "You were supposed to watch him," huffed Larry.

  "I did!" insisted Dave.

  "You sure as hell didn't do a very good job of it," growled Larry.

 
; "Well, I'm sorry!" said Dave. "I couldn't watch him every single minute all night!"

  "Didn't it ever occur to you that I might have told you to do that for a reason?"

  "What reason?" Dave asked in a strident, baffled voice, stepping over a thick root that protruded from the middle of the path.

  "I hope to God you haven't blown it," muttered Larry. "I hope we still have time."

  "Time for what?" flared Dave. "What're you talking about?"

  Abruptly, Larry came to a halt, interrupted his swift progress; the stop was so sudden, Dave almost collided with him from behind.

  Without a word of explanation, Larry looked to the right, then the left, then straight ahead. More bewildered than ever, Dave duplicated the scan of the area; it was a clear night, and the moon lit the woods well enough for him to see what lay around him, but he couldn't spot anything other than brush and rocks and trees.

  After a moment, Larry turned and looked at his follower. Eyes narrowed, face stony, he clamped a hand upon Dave's shoulder. "Listen," he said urgently. "We're almost there. From here on, move as quietly as you can, and don't say a word."

  Dave started to ask a question, but Larry jolted him sharply.

  "Not a word," whispered Larry. "Not a word until I say so. Do you understand?"

  Dave nodded, but his confused grimace betrayed his true lack of comprehension.

  "Stay a couple feet behind me till I wave you ahead," ordered Larry. "Once you get ahead of me, it's all up to you."

  Dave's features twisted into an even deeper grimace; his wild eyes asked the question that he couldn't speak aloud:

  What do you want me to do?

  "It's all up to you," said Larry Smith. "For God's sake, don't let down this time."

  What do you want me to do?

  "Let's go," nodded Larry, releasing Dave's shoulder, resuming his course down the rutted, frozen path.

  Perplexed and afraid, Dave followed after waiting long enough to give Larry the head start that he'd requested. Breathing rapidly, feeling the chill of the frosty night, he advanced along the path, taking care to move as quietly as he could.