by Chad Zunker
“Watch your step here,” Benny suggested.
They crossed over a small creek. Someone had created a makeshift bridge of sorts with several two-by-fours nailed together.
“We almost there, Benny?”
“Yep. Just down this next hill and around Mikey’s Turn.”
Mikey’s Turn? David felt completely lost. If the old man somehow ditched him or had a heart attack, David would probably never find his way back to the street. As they hiked down a small hill, David heard another rustling ahead of them, sending a chill through him. Then they were suddenly blinded by a bright light.
“Put that down, Curly!” Benny said.
“Sorry, Benny,” said a voice behind the light. “Who’s that with you?”
“A friend. He’s okay.”
The bright light lowered. Benny led David up to a guy wearing a denim jacket and blue jeans. The man was sitting in a cheap lawn chair next to the path. With rough gray stubble on his chin and cheeks, he looked to be in his forties. It was easy for David to see why Benny called the man Curly, as he had a wild mop of thick, curly brown hair. David wondered why the man was sitting in a lawn chair by this path. Was he a lookout or something?
“How are you, Benny?” Curly asked, standing and hugging the old man.
“Real good. You?”
“All right.”
“You get that job with the roofer?”
Curly nodded with a smile. “Yessir. Two steady weeks of work starting on Tuesday.”
“That’s great. We’re all proud of you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Benny turned back to David. “This is my friend, Shep.”
Curly nodded politely. “How do you do, sir?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“Watch your step these last fifty yards,” Curly suggested. “It gets a little steep, and it looks like you don’t have great shoes for it.”
“Thanks, I’ll be careful. Good to meet you.”
“You, too, Shep.”
Benny led David up the path another fifty yards until they turned and suddenly entered a large clearing in the middle of the woods. David could hear music up ahead. It sounded like someone was playing a guitar. Several voices were singing. As they moved deeper into the clearing, David could see the light of a large campfire with about a dozen men sitting and standing all around it. A man in the middle was indeed playing the guitar. To the right of the campfire, David noticed a huge canopy propped up with lanterns hanging underneath—it looked like some kind of makeshift kitchen. As they drew closer, David could see a couple of guys preparing food. Beyond that, David spotted several camping tents—more than twenty of them.
David was mesmerized. “What the hell is this, Benny?”
Benny turned, smiled wide. “Welcome to the Camp. My home.”
“You live . . . here?”
“Yep. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
As they stepped into the full light of the campfire, the guitarist paused his playing and damn near everyone looked over toward David, making him feel uneasy. Was this the part of the horror movie where the zombies all attacked and ate him?
“Boys, meet Shep,” Benny announced. “He’s a friend of the Camp.”
With Benny’s introduction, nearly everyone suddenly jumped up and rushed over to greet David, hands thrust at him, lots of guys patting him on the back, saying hello, welcome, and introducing themselves, all in a flurry of activity. David met Elvis, a thirtysomething guy with long black hair, sideburns, and wearing a dirty Dallas Cowboys cap. He met Larue, a young black man with cornrows who should probably still be in high school. There was Shifty, a man probably older than Benny, with wisps of white hair on his head but with half his teeth clearly missing. That didn’t stop Shifty from constantly smiling. Doc, a beanpole of a man in his fifties, wore a flannel button-down and khaki slacks and looked like he could be a college professor. What was Doc doing out here? David met about a dozen other interesting characters, unable to keep all their names and faces straight, the welcomes coming so fast and furious—men of all colors, ages, and physical makeups. It was about the friendliest bunch of guys he’d ever met.
As they all eased back over to their camping chairs, David turned to Benny.
“They all live here, Benny?”
“Yessir. Make yourself comfortable.”
The guitarist, a man called Red, most likely because of the color of his long hair, picked his instrument up and began playing again. David recognized the tune from the days his mother had dragged him to church. “The Old Rugged Cross.” Red began to sing, “On a hill far away . . .” and without hesitation, half the men joined right in with him at full volume. David smiled at the sight. They weren’t bad singers, either, for a misfit choir of homeless guys—although David guessed he couldn’t really call them all that. They had a home—sort of.
David wandered over toward the kitchen canopy. Two men were whipping up a stew of sorts, cutting up stacks of vegetables and dropping them into a large pot. One of them mentioned to David that dinner would be ready in about ten minutes.
Shifty, the old white-haired man with all the missing teeth, grabbed David by the arm. “You want the grand tour, Shep?”
David shrugged. “Sure, thanks.”
Shifty led David down a lantern-lit trail toward the camping tents. He stopped near the first four tents that were all bunched in a tight circle.
“These belong to the elders,” Shifty mentioned.
“Who are the elders?”
“Doc, Mulligan, Walter, and Benny.”
“How did they become elders?”
“Doc and Mulligan founded the Camp. Walter and Benny were voted in by the boys a few years ago.”
Shifty pushed ahead, as the trail led to another circle with about ten more tents. Shifty explained that these tents all belonged to the regulars—guys who’d already been through the program and had kept the covenant. Shifty showed off his own home—a standard, brown three-man camping tent. Shifty said he’d recently upgraded from a two-man tent and now had a ton of room for all his things. Inside, David noted a sleeping bag and pillow, a black duffel bag stuffed with clothes, and a basket that held books and other assorted items. Shifty seemed really proud of his tent. It was about half the size of David’s closet.
Continuing the tour, Shifty tugged David down a slight hill, where he noticed that two large blue tarps had been hung between two trees, like makeshift walls.
“The shower,” Shifty explained.
“Where do you get water?” David asked, assuming there was no plumbing.
Shifty smiled wide again. The man was missing both front teeth. It was quite the sight. He pointed to the sky. “From the good man upstairs. We collect rain in two barrels. Doc created a pulley system to use the water for showering. Works pretty good. Better than soaping up in the restroom at McDonald’s, I’ll tell you that.”
“I see.”
David now knew why Benny had considered the shower in his condo such a treat. Moving past the showers, they circled back up the hill toward the campfire again. Shifty walked him over to a small clearing, where four long wooden benches had been placed that all faced a hand-built five-foot wooden cross.
“This here is the chapel,” Shifty said. “We do church here three times a week. Both Doc and Benny preach a pretty good sermon.”
The final section was a small circle of four one-man tents.
“Whose tents are these?” David asked, wondering what was next.
“They’re for the freshmen. Guys who’ve just entered the program. They stay here until they’ve fulfilled all the steps. Then they can move over with the regulars, like me.”
“What all do you do in the program?”
“First off, get sober and stay clean. No drugs or alcohol are allowed in the Camp. That’s the first thing that’ll get you suspended. You also start giving regularly to the community fund. Not much, just a tiny portion of any earnings. We take care of each othe
r. You learn a new trade or polish up an old one through one of the classes offered at the different ministries in town. You attend chapel regularly. And you meet with your mentor every other day.”
“How long is this program?”
“Six months.”
“Sounds pretty hard-core.”
“Well, it’s hard-core to live out on the streets.”
David nodded. “How long have you been here, Shifty?”
Another big smile from the man. “Two years already. Haven’t touched a drop of alcohol in seven hundred eleven days. Thank you, Jesus.”
After completing the tour, they returned to the other men, who were still sitting around the campfire. Bowls of stew were being passed out to everyone. Red launched into “How Great Thou Art.” One of the men whom David thought had introduced himself as Twix—a sixtysomething black man in a military jacket with a thick gray beard—insisted that David take his camping chair near the fire. When David sat, one of the guys from the canopy kitchen thrust a hot bowl of stew stuffed with large chunks of carrots, potatoes, corn, and green beans into his hands. David thought it might have been the best vegetable stew he’d had in his life. It was certainly the first home-cooked meal he’d had in a while. He finished every last drop, and then they brought him another bowl without him even asking for it.
The teenager with the cornrows sat beside him. “You need anything, Mr. Shep?”
“No, I’m good, thanks. Larue, right?”
“Yessir.”
“Cool name.”
“Moms called me that when I was little. My real name is Lawrence.”
“Where is your mom? If you don’t mind my asking.” David wondered how a teenager like Larue ended up living in the woods. Didn’t seem right.
“She’s dead. Got herself killed when I was eleven.”
“I’m really sorry, Larue. What about your father?”
“Never knew my pops. See, Moms was a druggie and slept around to get high.”
“I see. How long you been living out here?”
“Been out on the streets by myself since I was twelve. Been staying here at the Camp for about a year. Probably should be dead right now, if not for Benny. Before I got here, I’d been stabbed and left for dead. Would’ve probably bled to death if Benny hadn’t found me and got me to the hospital.”
“I’m glad he did.”
“You like jazz, Shep?”
“Sure. You?”
“Oh, yessir! I been learning to play Art Tatum’s ‘Tiger Rag.’ That dude could really play. Maybe the fastest fingers I done ever heard on the keys.”
“You play piano, Larue?”
“I been learning. The boys bought me a keyboard. Benny says I got real talent. I wanna play over at Pete’s. You know that place?”
“Pete’s on Sixth?”
“Yessir. I’m gonna try out as soon as I got ‘Tiger Rag’ down.”
“Cool. I’d love to come see you play.”
Larue gave him a fist bump, then left to help with cleanup. For the next hour, David just sat by the campfire and took in the scene. Guys would come over to him here and there and ask him different questions about his life. They all acted like they really cared. He could hardly wrap his mind around it. Several of the men had tears streaming down their faces as they were singing. Other guys would walk over and wrap supportive arms around each other’s shoulders. Men were serving each other hand and foot. He was sitting among twenty uniquely different men of all ages and creeds who were all living in some kind of utopic tent city in the middle of the woods. David felt like he’d walked into another world—a strange, homeless Narnia. He was mesmerized by it all. This was a far different scene from what he experienced every day at the law firm. There, men were only out for themselves—and David was chief among sinners. These guys didn’t care a lick about where David was from, where he went to law school, or his class ranking. He doubted anyone would make a fuss that he’d slept for four months in a van as a kid because his family was so poor—they all slept in camping tents.
When it started to get late, the guys began drifting off to their tents. A few told David they had odd jobs to get to early in the morning. Others had to go out looking for part-time work. And since none of the guys had a vehicle, they all had to get up at the crack of dawn to catch different bus routes across town. Damn near every guy made one last pass by David to shake his hand again and offer a farewell.
“Time to go,” Benny said, sidling up to David.
With his flashlight, Benny guided David back out the long trail toward his vehicle. They passed by Larue, who had replaced Curly as lookout. They exchanged another fist bump. Benny finally led David through the last set of trees and back into civilization. David spotted his Range Rover sitting at the curb. Fortunately, it looked like it still had all four tires.
“Who knows you’re out here in the woods, Benny?”
“Not many. We like to keep it that way. Let’s just say we’re not paying rent to a landlord or anything like that. So don’t go bringing all your lawyer buddies here tomorrow.”
They shared a quick smile.
“I’ll try to keep them away,” David offered.
“We’re real selective about who gets to visit the Camp.”
“I can tell it’s a special place.”
“Indeed. I call it a village of dry bones.”
David tilted his head. “Why?”
“You see, in the Scriptures, God led the prophet Ezekiel in a vision to the middle of a valley full of dry bones. He told Ezekiel to prophesy over the bones. ‘Thus says the Lord God to these bones: Behold, I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live.’ In that moment, the bones started to come back to life and reattach, skin and flesh covered them, and new breath filled their lungs. This was prophecy for what God was going to do with his people, but the very same thing happens here at the Camp. Brothers enter this place all dried up, hopeless, and empty, but then the very breath of God refills their lungs.” Benny put his hand on David’s shoulder. “Most homeless are just dry bones, Shep, desperately wanting to come back to life.”
David pondered the powerful imagery.
“Maybe we’re all just dry bones, Benny.”
“Indeed.”
David turned to leave, but Benny stopped him by gripping his arm.
“Shep, one more thing, if you don’t mind me saying. Stay off the pills. They’re a quick path to darkness. Believe me, I know that firsthand.”
David drew back, immediately felt defensive. How did Benny know about his blue pills? Had he left them out in his condo or in his vehicle? David was sure he hadn’t. He was so careful not to be exposed. He was about to straight-up lie, call the old man crazy, but he just couldn’t get himself to do it. Not tonight—not after everything he’d just experienced.
Instead, he told Benny, “I will.”
FOURTEEN
A week later, David boarded a Gulfstream G550 that would fit up to sixteen passengers. Marty Lyons told David their client had purchased the private plane two years ago from ExxonMobil for $38 million. The seats were the best European leather. The plane had four flat-screen TVs on various walls; a full computer station with a printer, copier, and scanner onboard; and a plush leather sofa in the back that folded out into a full-size bed. Everything about the plane sparkled and shone appropriately. Thirty-eight million? David continued to be astonished at the level of luxury he was being introduced to in his first few months with Hunter & Kellerman. The Gulfstream was headed to New Orleans, where Lyons had scheduled lunch with their client, followed by a round of golf at an exclusive club. They’d be back home in Austin by late evening—every second of the day trip billed to their wealthy client.
Before leaving, David spotted a gray Ford Taurus pull up close to the plane. A man got out of the car, and Lyons greeted him. David leaned closer to the window. It looked like the same building security guy he’d encountered in the middle of the night in Nick’s office several weeks back. What was he doing her
e? The black jacket was still in place, but the cap was gone, showing the guy had short white hair. David suddenly flashed back to the man he’d seen in the shadows outside Nick’s house that night. Could this possibly be the same guy? David watched as Lyons and the man huddled closely together for a few minutes and talked about something. Then the guy got back in his car, left, and Lyons finally joined David in the cabin of the plane.
“What did building security want?” David asked.
Lyons tilted his head. “Who?”
“The guy you were talking to out there. He’s building security, right?”
“What? No, he’s no one. He works for a client.” Lyons quickly changed the subject to the plane. “What do you think of this beauty?”
David glanced back out the window. Works for a client?
“David?” Lyons repeated, snapping him back.
“Oh, yes, sir. The plane is incredible.”
“Wait until we get in the air.”
Moments later, the plane rocketed into the air and quickly settled in smooth skies.
“You enjoying yourself, David?” Lyons asked.
David sat in a spacious booth across from Lyons, who wore his usual $5,000 custom-made power suit. David knew the price of the partner’s suits only because he’d spotted an invoice on Lyons’s desk one day. David wore a dark-blue Calvin Klein number that had cost him a painful $1,500, a suit that Melissa had insisted he had to have in his closet right now. She’d already added a half dozen new suits and six pairs of dress shoes to his wardrobe over the past months. She was spending his new money at a feverish pace. David was beginning to wonder how much money it would take for him to ever feel comfortable in her world.
