The Wildman (11 page)

Jeff was walking at a fast pace, now, almost running. He weaved between the trees, trying not to trip or bump into anything. Again, he wished he’d brought his flashlight. He wanted to stop and turn around and face whatever he feared was behind him. Then he would see there was nothing there. All he was doing was letting his fears get the better of him, and maybe because of the rum he’d drunk, it was all spiraling out of control.

There’s nothing there … no Hobomock … no ghosts … no demon … nothing … unless …

…
unless it’s Jimmy Foster!

The thought filled Jeff with blinding fear.

When he chanced a look back at the beach, now far behind him, he bumped into a tree hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Tiny white stars exploded across his vision, and he was lucky he didn’t drop, unconscious.

Jeff gasped, staggered to a stop, and leaned forward with both hands on his knees. He shook his head to clear it.

Is that what I’m afraid of?
he asked himself as panic coursed through him.

Am I afraid Jimmy Foster’s gho
st is still lingering where he died … that he’s been waiting here all these years … waiting for someone … for me … to come back?

Come back and do what?

Help him?

Jeff wanted desperately to believe there was nothing more he could do, either then or now.

He was just a kid at the time. Even if something bad had happened to Jimmy, even if he had been murdered, what could he have done about it? The police, his parents … nobody believed him when he told them what he had seen. They said Jimmy’s throat hadn’t been cut. He had drowned, and that was the end of it.

If none of the adults—not even his parents or the police—believed him, there was nothing more he could do about it.

He was panting heavily. In spite of the cold night air, sweat bathed his face. Jeff scanned the beach and surrounding forest. It was hard not to imagine a lost, lonely spirit haunting the darkness, waiting … alone … for something or someone who never came and would never come.

Jeff took a breath that turned into a barking sob. He realized he was crying, but as he wiped his tears on the sleeve of his jacket, he wanted to convince himself that the cold wind blowing into his face was making his eyes water. Squaring his shoulders, he took another deep breath and told himself to stop acting like a scared little kid.

There’s noting out here … no ghosts … no demons … nothing!

And he almost believed himself, but as he walked the rest of the way back to the dining hall, a cold tingling sensation danced between his shoulder blades. And as he stepped up onto the stairs leading to the porch, he was starting to feel a bit calmer … calm enough to face his friends, anyway, when a huge shape suddenly loomed out of the darkness and bumped into him.

The impact almost knocked him to the ground. As it was, he staggered back a few steps, feeling the floorboards yield beneath his weight.

Jeff clenched his fists and ducked into a defensive crouch, but an instant later, someone shouted, “Jesus! I didn’t hear you coming.”

It was Evan.

Even though relief flooded Jeff, he was suddenly angry at his friend.

”
What th
e
fuck
ar
e you doing?”

“
Same thing as you,” Evan said. “I came out to take a piss.”

“
Off the edge of the porch?”

“
What the fuck?” Evan said. “I own this property, don’t I? So I can do whatever the hell I want.”

Jeff’s heart was still pounding heavily in his chest, but above it he could hear the sound of Evan’s stream of piss as it splashed on the ground beside the porch.

“
Hope I didn’t ruin your aim,” he said with a tight laugh.

Evan chuckled, but in the darkness, without being able to see his face, Jeff caught a dull hollow tone in his friend’s laughter, as if he didn’t really mean it.

“
Well—ahh, look,” Jeff said. “I, umm, feel kinda uncomfortable, talking to you knowing you have your dick in your hand.” Jeff still couldn’t see anything in the darkness under the porch roof. He raised his foot and placed it down carefully. The spongy wood sagged as he shifted his weight forward.

“
See you inside then,” Evan said as the sound of splashing urine continued unabated.

“
Sure,” Jeff said as he felt his way to the door, swung it open, and went inside. He couldn’t believe the relief he felt when he saw the roaring blaze in the fireplace and the smiling faces of his friends, who looked up as he approached.

“
Took you long enough,” Tyler said, but Jeff simply nodded as he settled back down on his sleeping pad, basking in the warmth of the fire.

CHAPTER FIVE

Late Night Stroll

Sometime before midnight, the wind died down, and the clouds passed. Jeff was the first one to notice that the sky was clearing. A cold silvery glaze of moonlight lit the landscape like a coating of frosting. High-blown clouds racing across the face of the moon created a dizzying strobe-light effect. Every now and then, a strong gust of wind would slam against the old building, making the windows rattle and the wallboards and rafters creak. The fire was still roaring away, though, and the dining room was warm … almost cozy.

Almost …

Jeff and his friends had been talking and drinking for hours, their conversation punctuated every now and then when someone got up to get something to eat or, more likely, get another drink. Although he’d been looking forward to getting loaded this weekend with these guys, Jeff had eased off the rum and was sipping a Sam Adams lager Tyler had given him.

Try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about what—if anything—he had seen outside. He wanted to believe he’d been jumping at shadows, seeing things that weren’t really there and scaring himself … just like he had when he was a kid. But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself he was just spooking himself, he couldn’t stop thinking there
was
something seriously wrong about this weekend. Something wasn’t adding up. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“
How ‘bout you, Jeff?” Tyler asked, leaning forward and looking at him with arched eyebrows.

“
Huh?”

Jeff realized he’d been lost in thought, not paying the least bit of attention to what his friends had been talking about.

“
I missed that.”

Tyler sighed shook his head. Everyone was looking at him like he’d lost it or something. A flush of heat warmed his cheeks and the back of his neck.

“
We were talking about how it might be cool if we—all of us—maybe buy into Evan’s development here,” Mike said.

“
You mean like a joint venture?”

“
Yeah. We could form an association and get a time share on a single unit.” Mike said.

“
We could each have a couple of weeks every summer on the lake,” Fred added. “Just like old times.”

“
It would definitely not be like old times,” Jeff said.

“
Yeah,” Mike said, “but we could have a reunion one weekend a year.”

“
Without wives and kids,” Tyler said, and Mike quickly added, “—or significant others.”

Jeff gave it hardly a thought before he shrugged and, looking at the group, said, “Sure. Might not be a bad idea.”

All he was thinking was,
First we have to get through this weekend and see what we think of each other.

They hardly knew each other, and here they were, casually talking about a substantial commitment of time and money when they didn’t even know if one or more of them were complete assholes. Hoping to play it off, Jeff stretched out his arm and glanced at his wristwatch.

“
Christ! It’s almost two in the morning.” He stifled a yawn behind the back of his hand. “What say we grab a little shut-eye.”

“
You always were a pussy,” Tyler said. A wide grin split his face.

“
Not really.” Jeff smiled back at him. “I was just always the sensible one.
Unlike
you
,
over the years I’ve learned to pace myself. I’m thinking about getting up early and taking a hike around the campgrounds.”

Even before he finished the sentence, a shiver took hold of him because he realized the first place he’d go would be down to the shore where the docks had been … where he had last seen Jimmy Foster dead on a stretcher.

“
There’s not much left of things,” Evan said. “Everything’s so grown up. I could hardly figure out where the ball field was.”

“
How ‘bout one more beer,” Mike said, and before anyone could respond, he started digging into his cooler.

“
Can I snag one, too?” Fred asked. Without a word, Mike tossed a bottle of beer over to him.

“
Anyone else?” Mike asked.

“
You guys can stay up as late as you want,” Jeff said. “I’m a heavy sleeper. Your yacking won’t bother me.”

That was a total lie, but he wasn’t about to get between them and their fun. Truth was—especially since Susan left—he was lucky to get five hours of sleep a night.

Turning his back to the fireplace, he adjusted his sleeping pad and then fluffed up his sleeping bag and pillow. He was positioned off to one side, wanting to keep as close to the fire as he could in case it got really cold
during the night. He remembered nights when they were campers when the temperature dropped down close to freezing. And
that
had been in
July.
He couldn’t imagine what an October night would be like, but he was about to find out.

Since there was no running water, he couldn’t wash up or brush his teeth … not unless he went down to the lake, and he wasn’t about to do
that.
Maybe in the morning he’d give it a try. After striping down to his boxer shorts and t-
shirt, he slipped into the sleeping bag, shivering from the cool touch of the fabric. He put his head inside the sleeping bag and blew out several puffs of hot air, hoping to warm up quickly.

Once he was settled, though, Jeff wasn’t the least bit sleepy. He lay with his back to the fire and listened as his friends talked on into the night. The conversation wandered all over the place as they talked about their lives, their jobs, the people in their lives—wives, ex-wives, and kids—as well as sports and finances, where they went to college, and generally how they saw their lives going.

Jeff found it soothing to listen to them without having to participate, and he started dozing off as their voices rose and feel as regularly as the waves, washing against the sandy beach outside.

Eventually, their voices toned down and faded. Jeff wasn’t sure if he was falling asleep or if his friends were finally succumbing to sleep. Everybody had their limits.

* * *

Sometime later, Jeff awoke with a start.

It was still dark, but he heard … something out of the ordinary that had set off an alarm inside his head?

Holding his breath, he sat up and looked around.

The fire had burned down low, and the dining hall was much darker than it had been throughout the evening. It felt a lot colder, too. Shadows in the rafters looked thicker and seemed to be closer. Grunting softly, Jeff turned and looked at the fire. It was just a pile of glowing coals that cast a warm, vermilion glow. He looked at the mounded humps of his friends as they slept in their sleeping bags. They were arranged on the floor like the spokes of a wheel with the fire as the hub. One of them—he was sure it was Mike—was snoring with a series of loud, blubbering snorts.

But that wasn’t what had torn him from sleep.

He considered getting up and putting a few more logs on the fire, but he was nice and toasty where he was. He wished he could lie back down and go back to sleep, but he was still bothered by whatever had awakened him. After another moment or two, he realized what it was.

There were only three people asleep on the floor.

Someone was missing.

Jeff’s teeth started chattering as he sat up and, leaning forward, tried to figure out who was missing. It didn’t take him long.

It was Evan.

Evan wasn’t there.

He scanned the shadows that filled the dining room, realizing now that the sound that had disturbed his sleep had been the creaking of floorboards …

As if someone had gotten up and was sneaking around.

A stronger, deeper chill took hold of Jeff, shaking his shoulders as he looked down the short, dark hallway to the door that led out onto the porch.

Had he also heard the faint twanging sound of the spring as the door opened and Evan went outside?

It was too dark to see anything in the hallway except the faint, gray smudge of night beyond the screen door. For all he knew, Evan was standing right outside the door. Jeff wouldn’t be able to see him.

What business of his was it, anyway, what Evan did?

They were adults now, not campers who had to sneak around. Besides, Evan owned the island and everything on it. It was his property. He could do whatever he wanted.

But he couldn’t get rid of the thought that it hadn’t been a noise Evan had made that had awaken him. He tried not to imagine the restless ghost of Jimmy Foster lurking in the night outside the dining hall, a pale, tattered remnant in the patchy moonlight.