Fort (11 page)

Augie and I both said a cautious hello. Gerard saw us then, and his face broke into a smile. “Hi, Augie. Hi, Wyatt.” He pointed to the worms. “It's a race.”

“Cool,” I said. “Who's winning?”

Gerard peered at the worms. “Nobody.”

“You got lazy worms,” said Augie. “That's the problem.”

Gerard seemed to find this hilarious. “Lazy worms!” he repeated, laughing like crazy. “I got lazy worms! That's the problem! Mom, that's the problem! Lazy worms!”

Mrs. DeMuth smiled at him. It was as if she just couldn't be mad when Gerard was happy. I felt the same way. I didn't know if it was the idea of lazy worms, or Gerard's laugh, or both, but Augie and I were cracking up, too.

When we'd settled down, Mrs. DeMuth looked at us with her eyebrows raised in a question, and it was obvious she was wondering what we were doing there. Augie, the rat, was playing dumb, so I finally spoke up.

“Um, Mrs. DeMuth, remember the last time we were here?”

“Yes,” she said. Her voice sounded flat and cool.

Boy, that was a dumb way to start. As if she would forget how we made her son cry.

I plunged on. “Well, it was a misunderstanding. Really it was some other kids who were mean to Gerard. He was telling us what they did to him, and that's why he was crying.”

Mrs. DeMuth still looked suspicious, but she was listening. “Are you referring to J.R. and Morrie?” she asked.

I nodded eagerly, and so did Augie.

“Those two have been bothering Gerard for years,” she said with a mix of anger and sadness.

“It's not just Gerard,” said Augie. “They bother us all the time, too.”

Gerard was kneeling beside his worms, watching them intently. I couldn't tell if he was listening or not.

“So, anyway, we felt really bad because you thought we were being mean to Gerard—”

Still looking down at his worms, Gerard said, “Augie and Wyatt are not mean to Gerard.”

Mrs. DeMuth smiled at him, then gave a little shrug and smiled at us. “Well, I'm very glad to hear that. Thank you, boys, for stopping over.”

I guess she figured we were finished, because she turned back to her gardening.

“Well, see,” I said, “we came over because we were wondering if Gerard could maybe—if he wants to, that is—if he could sleep out at our fort this weekend.”

Mrs. DeMuth's mouth dropped open with surprise, but Gerard didn't waste any time.

“Yes! Yes! Gerard
does
want to sleep at the fort!” he said, nodding his head up and down and up and down really fast. “This weekend.
Yes.
”

Mrs. DeMuth looked back and forth between her son and Augie and me. She seemed torn, like she wanted to believe what she was hearing, but wasn't sure she should. “Do you mean this? This isn't some kind of joke?”

“No, ma'am,” said Augie. “Honest.”

“No joke,” I added.

“Gerard wants to, Mom. No joke!”

“Oh, lovey,” she murmured. To Augie and me she said, “It would mean so much to him.” She lowered her voice and continued, “You'll take care of him?” Her voice trailed off, then she finished, “You understand what I'm saying, don't you?”

I did understand, and I guess Augie did, too, because we both nodded our heads off, almost as fast as Gerard had been doing.

After that, Mrs. DeMuth had a lot more questions. But finally we got it all settled. She would bring Gerard to Al's at three on Friday, with his sleeping bag and his stuff. I promised I'd take my cell phone and we'd call to let her know everything was going okay, or if he wanted to come home for some reason. Since we didn't know exactly when Operation Doom would go down, we just said we'd call when it was time for her to pick him up.

“Okay, Gerard,” I said when we were ready to leave. “See you Friday!”

“Okay! See you Friday!” Gerard repeated. “See you Friday!” he kept calling as we got on our bikes. “See you Friday!” Then, “Lazy worms!”

We rode away to the sound of Gerard's laughter.

 

14

Since it was Wednesday, Augie and I both had to go home for dinner and to spend the night. I was worried about leaving the fort unguarded, but Augie swore (not in the bad way) that J.R. and Morrie wouldn't show up during the week.

We decided to go home early and get started on our chores. We hoped Dad and Gram would be so impressed by this proof of our dedication that they'd have no hesitation about letting us stay at the fort over the weekend.

Still, I couldn't help worrying that all our plans would be for nothing. “What if they say no?” I fretted.

“They won't,” said Augie. “We gotta think positive, Wyatt. That's what Gram always says anyhow.”

As it turned out, Augie was right. When Dad got home at five, I had already taken the sheets off my bed and bagged them up with my dirty clothes, mowed the grass, and taken out the garbage. The garbage was part of our plan, and I was happy to note that it was good and ripe.

Dad brought home some chicken, so I lit the grill and helped him make salad and garlic bread. While we ate, he asked me what Augie and I had been up to, and I told him about inviting Gerard to sleep out at the fort. Dad's pretty cool, but I didn't see any reason to bring up Operation Doom.

“You're talking about—what?—Friday night?” he asked.

“Maybe Saturday, too,” I said carefully. “If Gerard wants to.”

“Well, I think that's a really nice thing for you boys to do,” said Dad. “It's fine with me, as long as Mrs. DeMuth is comfortable with it. But— You know what? Take your phone. Just in case something unexpected happens.”

“I already thought of that,” I said eagerly. “I told Mrs. DeMuth we'd call her.”

Dad nodded in approval.

And that was that. I could hardly believe it had been that easy. I called Augie.

“Gram said yes, too,” he told me happily.

Everything was falling into place.

Dad and I played poker until he yawned and said, “I've got an early class to teach tomorrow, so we'd better hit the hay.”

Like I said, Dad's pretty cool. Even when he says corny stuff like “hit the hay.”

 

15

I was in the driveway waving goodbye to Dad when Augie showed up on his bike.

“Did you remember Herkimer?” I asked.

Augie pointed to a paper bag in the basket of his bike. “I put him in the bag in case we run into Unk.”

I felt a pang of guilt about Unk's prize owl, lying decapitated all week in Bertha's trunk and now stuffed into a paper bag. “You got his head, too?” I asked.

“Well, duh,” said Augie.

“You figure we'll fix him and sneak him back into the attic, right?” I said. “After the mission, I mean.”

“Yeah,” said Augie. “A little superglue and he'll be good as new.”

“Okay,” I said. “Well, I guess next is—the garbage.”

We went to the end of the driveway and I took the lid off the big plastic trash can I had taken out the night before.

I gestured to the can and then to Augie. “Ladies first.”

Augie frowned. “Man, that
reeks
. Even through the bags!”

“The rottener the better, right?”

“I guess.” Wrinkling his nose, Augie looked inside. Then he reached in and took one bag and I took another.

“So that's it,” I said.

“Let's go.”

Unk and Al weren't around yet, and we headed straight to the fort.

“Where do we start?” asked Augie.

“The first thing is to figure out where they're going to walk to get here,” I said. “Which is kind of a no-brainer. They'll take the easiest, shortest route, just like we did when we first came in. They'll cross the field behind Al's and go through that opening in the trees at the edge of the woods, right?”

“Only logical,” Augie agreed.

“Exactly. We know that last time they went from there toward the stream—”

“—because we know where they crossed and found the squirrel guts!” Augie finished. “And, besides, it's the easiest way. We did the same thing. So do the deer and other animals.”

“Then, from the stream, it's sort of a straight uphill line to here,” I said, pointing.

Augie nodded. “Let's go.”

*   *   *

We got to work. I'd never realized before that playing chess and being good at math would come in handy in real life. But it turns out, knowing about angles and how to figure out distances and stuff can be very useful.

From chess I'd learned that you have to plan more than one move ahead of your opponent, and try to figure out what he might do before he does it. Add to that the fact that Augie knew everything in the world about the woods and hunting and all, and J.R. and Morrie didn't stand a chance!

We took a quick break for lunch, having cold dogs instead of hot dogs, which Augie said he liked better. While we were eating, we decided that planning Operation Doom was pretty much the most fun we'd ever had, and our victims hadn't even shown up yet.

“We can't help it if we're diabolical masterminds!” I declared.

“Genuine evil geniuses!” agreed Augie.

When we'd finished, we built a fire and sat around talking and laughing, imagining the way the operation would go down. I could hardly sleep, thinking about it. Augie fell right to sleep and was even snoring like some old geezer in a cartoon. I kept poking him. He'd stop for a second, make some weird noises, and then start up again. He was so sound asleep it made me think of the old trick where you put a sleeping person's hand in warm water, which for some reason—don't ask me why, but it's a scientific fact—causes him to go pee. But I didn't really want to do it to Augie. J.R. and Morrie, sure, in a heartbeat, if the opportunity came up. But not Augie.

Anyway, I noticed something as I was lying there. When you're sleeping out in a fort—only you're wide-awake, not sleeping—you hear a lot of strange noises. Besides the ones your snoring friend is making, I mean. These noises all sounded like they were made by something big. Something sneaky. Something sinister.

That night, every rustle of a leaf, every crack of a twig, every grunt and squeak meant that we'd figured it wrong and J.R. and Morrie were right outside the fort's walls, ready to pounce. It just didn't seem fair that I was the only one on high alert. I needed backup.

“Augie!” I whispered, jabbing him in the side.

“Zzzzz-snrkx-zzzz.”

“Augie!” Another jab.

“Mmmm-waa-glrg-zzzzzzzzz.”

“Augie!”
Major jab.

“Wa-aa-mmm-zzzzzz.”

“Fine,” I muttered. “You go right ahead and sleep. I'll just lie here awake so I can save your sorry butt when disaster strikes. No problem.”

*   *   *

The next thing I knew, a bug or something was crawling across my face. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but it wouldn't go away. Finally, I swatted at it and opened my eyes, only to see Augie's grinning mug five inches from mine. It was morning.

“Rise and shine, dude,” he said, dangling the Slim Jim wrapper he'd been using to tickle my cheek. “We've got stuff to do!”

I groaned. “I can't believe you're waking me now after keeping me up all night with your snoring.”

Through my half-closed eyes I saw Augie's look of dismay. “I do not snore!” he said.

“I got news for you, Augie.”

“Whatever you heard, it wasn't me.”

“Oh, so there was a dying warthog over there in your sleeping bag with you?”

“Don't you think I'd know it if I was snoring?”

“Actually,” I said, trying to be reasonable, “no. Because
you were asleep.
”

“I know stuff, even when I'm asleep,” Augie said.

“Look, I'm just telling you: you were snoring.”

“I bet you were asleep and you were dreaming about me snoring.”

“Augie, I wasn't asleep. That's the point. I was awake.
You
were asleep. And snoring. As Al would say, ‘end of story.' What is the big deal?”

“I don't want to be a snorer,” Augie said in a low voice.

“Why not?” I asked. I had been feeling exasperated, but now I was mystified. And curious.

“I just don't.”

“No reason?”

“I don't like thinking I did something and I didn't even know I was doing it.”

I thought about that.

“It creeps me out,” Augie went on. “Like my body was taken over by an alien or something.”

“Oh,” I said. “Yeah, I kinda see what you mean.”

Augie brightened up. “So I wasn't snoring after all?”

I decided to forget the whole thing right then and there. Augie was my right-hand man. We had a mission ahead. I didn't want him to be distracted. “No,” I said. “You weren't. I must have dreamed the whole thing.”

Augie nodded. “I thought so.”

Geez. I was glad that was settled. It was time to get down to business.

 

16

“There's something I thought of during the night,” I told Augie. “What do you say we get that big sign that used to be on the old ice cream stand, the one that was torn down and got junked at Al's?”

“The Pink Palace sign? What would we do with
that
?”

“Put it up here at the fort.”

Augie's eyes narrowed as he thought about it. “J.R. and Morrie made a lot of fun of us when they saw the pink boards we were using.”

“Exactly. But now we've got this awesome fort. I bet they wish it was theirs. So instead of being all embarrassed about it being pink, we make it, like, a—”

“A badge of honor!” Augie said.

I knew Augie would get it.