The Crossroads (11 page)

Zack, Davy,
and Zipper tromped through the cornfield on the far side of the highway.

The sun had bleached the dead stalks to a watery shade of brown. As they slogged across the muddy field, Zack's socks squished.

“How much farther?”

“Well, pardner, the lumber pile's clear up yonder. Out behind the barn. Sure is a swell day for a hike, though, ain't it?”

The air was thick, bugs were buzzing around his ankles and his eyes, the smell of rotten cornstalks baking in the sun was everywhere, and Zack couldn't even see a barn.

Just swell.

“Don't this dang meadow smell sweet?”

“I guess,” Zack said. He thought Davy had a funny way of talking.

Must come from growing up on a farm or coming from Kentucky.

But Zack didn't mind. He liked Davy, even when he used weird words like “swell” and “keen.” Or when he called him “pardner” or “sport.” Sure beat being “Barbie.”

“Maybe we ought to skirt up there alongside the road. Stick to the shade under them trees.”

“Good idea,” said Zack, slapping at some kind of bug burrowing into his ear.

“I figure if we can lay in the tree house floor this afternoon, we'll be off to a swell start,” said Davy as they trekked through the trees. “We'll build us a regular crow's nest. Just like a pack of pirates!”

“Yeah! We can make people walk the plank and stuff!”

“Sure. It'll be swell!”

They stepped into a sunny spot.

A man blocked their path.

A businessman dressed in a brown suit with a white handkerchief tucked into the breast pocket. He was wearing a hat like Zack had seen in old movies. A fedora, they called it.

“Hey there, fellers!” The businessman leaned into the sunlight. “Off on a scavenger hunt?” There was a boxy sample case sitting on the ground near his shiny shoes. He carried a raincoat tucked under his arm—even though there wasn't a single cloud in the sky.

“I heard you two are building a tree fort!” said the businessman. “Well, boys, I'm the top aluminum-siding salesman in these parts. Clarence W. Billings is my name and—”

“We don't need no galdern aluminum siding,” said Davy.

“We're just building a tree house,” added Zack.

“So leave us be, tin man!”

“Easy, son. Easy. What if I told you fellers you don't have to hike across the highway all the livelong day to fetch your lumber?”

“What do you mean?” Davy put his hands on his hips.

“Well, son, I couldn't help but notice all the building supplies stacked on the other side of the road at those construction sites.”

“So?”

“Well, son, those are what we in the construction trade call scrap piles. Feller can help himself to all the scrap he wants. All the boards and plywood out front of those brand-new bungalows? That's yours and free for the taking.”

Davy was intrigued. “Is that so?”

“Darn tootin',” said the salesman.

Zack scratched a fresh mosquito bite behind his knee. “Might save us a lot of marching through the mud, Davy.”

“You're right there, pardner.”

The aluminum-siding salesman rocked gently on his heels, widened his smile.

Davy nodded at the businessman. “Well, sir, I reckon you ain't a bad egg after all.”

“Just trying to lend a hand, son.” The salesman tipped his hat. “Say, now, I wonder if you two fellers might do
me
a little favor. Make everything square between us?”

“What kind of favor?” Davy asked.

Zack's heart beat faster. This stranger could be one of those men his father warned him about. The ones who wanted you to climb into their cars.

“Tell me, boys: Have you seen that dag-blasted stump over on the other side of the road?”

“Sure,” said Davy.

“Well, we already talked to this one feller about taking it out, but he couldn't finish the job. Had him a heart attack. But you boys—well, you're young and strong and I bet you could figure out a way to rip that stump right out of the ground! Yes, sir, I wager—”

“Run for it, Zack!” Davy yelled.

Zack, Davy, and Zipper tore through the trees. They ran down the embankment, crossed the highway, and made it to the far side of the road.

“See you later, alligator!” Davy shouted with a laugh.

“Boys?” Billings called after them.

But the boys were gone.

“Encouraging children to steal, Mr. Billings? Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

The businessman turned and saw a nun standing next to him. She carried a small traveling valise.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Sister.”

“Stealing is a sin.”

“But…”

“Do not despair. That boy is the chosen one.”

“You sure about that? He looks kind of puny. Glasses are awful thick, too.”

“He will do what needs to be done,” the nun said serenely. “Zachary Jennings will not let us down.”

Zack and
Davy sat with their legs dangling over the edge of their tree platform.

Zack had just nailed down a sheet of plywood they had found in one of the scrap piles up Stonebriar Road. Since the floor of their tree house was only ten feet high, Zack had been able to carry Zipper up with him.

“We should build Zipper an elevator,” Davy suggested.

“How?”

“Rig up a bucket on a rope. Loop it off that branch.”

“Hey, cool. Great idea.”

Zipper barked his approval of the plan.

It was close to six p.m. The first day of work was finished. Zack had never felt so good about anything in his life.

“This is awesome,” he said, taking in the view.

“I'll say. Why, you can see just about everything from up here!”

“Yep.”

“Yes, sir,” Davy sighed. “You can even see the stuff you wish you couldn't.”

“What do you mean?”

Davy gestured at Judy's freshly planted flowers circling the ten-foot-wide stump.

“‘Ring around the rosies, a pocketful of posies,'” said Davy. “Kind of ruins everything.”

“Really?”

“Frilly little flowers? Docked so dadgum close to our pirate ship? Shoot, anybody driving by will think this is some kind of
girl's
tree house.”

“Wow. I never thought about it that way.”

“Me neither. Not till we climbed on up. But it just sort of hits you right between the peepers when you're perched here, don't it?”

“Yeah,” Zack said. “I guess so.”

“And that white wooden cross? That makes it look like we're back here playing Bible camp! Jiminy Christmas, I wish we could just tear it down, pull up the flowers, and rip that dadgum stump clear out of the ground. The whole thing razzes my berries.”

“Yeah,” Zack said. “Razzes my berries, too.”

“That Mr. Billings feller was right. We need to get rid of it.”

“Yeah,” Zack agreed. “But how?”

Billy O'Claire
sat in a booth choking down his third double cheeseburger.

The burgers were juicy and the first two had been okay, especially with a large side of fries. The third, however, tasted like what it was: about a half pound of cooked cow.

Billy belched. “Oh, man.”

His stomach hurt. He'd also inhaled three chocolate shakes in less than fifteen minutes.

“Finish my burger!”
said a nagging voice inside his head.
“I haven't had one in fifty years!”

Billy took another weary bite. Tried to mash the meat and bread around in his mouth. It was becoming more of a chore with every chew.

He had never been much of a burger guy before. He was more into pizza. Nachos. Buffalo wings.

But it had been nothing but cheeseburgers, fries, and milk shakes since he had met the guy with the slicked-back hair.

Billy still didn't know why the guy kept showing up. He just knew he'd be back soon because tonight was the night he wanted to meet Billy's grandmother: Mary O'Claire.

Zack's father
didn't come home until nine p.m. on Monday, his first day commuting to his office in the city.

Judy propped open the lid on a cardboard pizza box.

“Sorry it's cold.”

“I'm sorry I had to work so late. It's this meeting next week in Malaysia.”

“Well,” said Judy, “if you're traveling halfway around the world, it's probably smart to do your homework before you leave home.”

“Guess how long I'll be on airplanes?”

“As long as you'll be in Malaysia?”

“Close. The meeting lasts two days. The flight takes nineteen hours—each way.”

“Ouch. Better pack a good book.”

“I think I'd better pack the whole library.”

Zack sat on his stool, hoping his father and Judy wouldn't start yelling at each other like his father and his real mother always used to do whenever his father worked late. Those arguments would start over long hours at the office and eventually lead back to Zack.

“You're the one who wanted children!” his mother would scream. In fact, his mother had managed to work that particular line into any argument, no matter what it was about: “You don't like how I spend money? Fine! You're the one who wanted children!”

Zack worried that Judy might start feeling the same way. She might end up hating Zack because she was the one stuck in Connecticut taking care of him and he wasn't even her real kid!

He had to do something. Fast. He had to change the subject before the newlyweds tumbled into their first argument and figured out who the real problem was: Him!

“We started building a tree house today!” he blurted out. “Me and Davy.”

Judy and his father stared at him.

“Who's Davy?” his father asked.

“A neat guy who lives on a farm across the highway.”

“Can't wait to meet him,” his father said, balancing a limp piece of soggy pizza.

“Me too,” Judy added.

Zipper crawled out from under the table, sat back on his haunches, and raised his front paws.

“Hmmm,” said Zack's father, “looks like somebody else around here likes cold pizza. You know, in law school, we used to eat cold pizza for breakfast and—”

“What was that?” said Judy. “Did you see that?”

“What?” Zack climbed off his stool.

“I saw a light. It went swinging by the window.”

“Could be a car,” George said, his mouth full of chewy cheese. “Down on the highway with its headlights aimed wrong.” He peeled off a pepperoni and presented it to Zipper, who wasn't interested anymore. The dog scampered over to the window.

“There it is!” Judy said. “See? In the trees? Looks like a flashlight. Come on—let's go investigate.”

“Might be dangerous,” said Zack.

“Might be fun!” his father said. “C'mon, Zack. Bring Zipper. He'll protect us.” He got up and pulled a flashlight out of its recharging cradle near the back door. Judy grabbed her jean jacket. Zipper barked.

Zack had no choice.

He had to journey once again into the evil woods fringing his backyard. And this time, he'd have to do it in the dark.

Great.

But then he realized something: This time, he wouldn't be alone. This time, his whole family was coming with him.

“You're right, Dad. Let's go see who's out there!”