The Wildman (12 page)

“
Screw it,” Jeff whispered.

He wanted to go back to sleep and forget all about it, but now that he was awake, he had to find out what was going on. His teeth were chattering as he slipped out of the sleeping bag and scrambled to put on his clothes before he got too cold. He cast a wary eye at his three sleeping friends, expecting one of them to sit up and ask what the hell was going on.

The truth was, he had no idea what was going on, but he was determined to find out.

Even if it was as innocent as Evan getting up to take a piss, Jeff wanted to figure out what had awakened him.. He wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep until he did.

After getting his pants on, he put on the socks he had worn yesterday and his sneakers. His legs were stiff from the cold, and his hip ached from sleeping on the floor. His knees popped when he stood up, and he had to rotate his arms to get the circulation going. He was still shaking from the cold when he tiptoed across the floor and down the hallway to the side door.

He almost laughed out loud as he wondered why he was sneaking around like this.

It would be hilarious if he ended up scaring the be-jezus out of Evan, who in all likelihood really had just gotten up to use the Port-a-Potty. After all the rum and beer he’d consumed earlier, Jeff was surprised his bladder wasn’t screaming for relief, too.

The floorboards creaked with every step he took. The sounds made him cringe and set his teeth on edge, but he realized this sound w
as
exactly
what had broken into his sleep.

When he got to the door, he looked outside. The ground was bright with splashes of moonlight that filtered through the pines. The black shadows of tree trunks stood out in harsh relief against the moonlit glow. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Jeff realized Evan wasn’t standing on the porch.

Jeff paused and listened. The only sound was the crackling of the fire and the heavy breath of his sleeping friends in the dining hall.

So what’s he doing?

Jeff placed his fingertips on the screen door and started to push it open. The twanging sound the spring made as it stretched open made him cringe. The sound seemed loud enough to wake the sleepers, but Jeff glanced back and saw that no one had stirred.

Except for Evan … For some reason, Evan’s up and about at this hour … Doesn’t he ever sleep?

Jeff wondered why he was so mistrustful of Evan. As far as he could see, Evan hadn’t said or done anything so far this weekend that wasn’t completely above board; but a couple of times something he said or the way he reacted to something gave Jeff pause. He couldn’t help but wonder if Evan was up to something. And no matter how much he tried to stop his thoughts from going in a particular direction, he couldn’t help but think it had something to do with what had happened to Jimmy Foster.

Or it all could be because of his own lingering guilt he’d dredged up since coming back to Camp Tapiola, or what was left of it?

When the screen door was open just enough for him to slip outside, he stepped out onto the porch and eased the door quietly closed behind him. His vision had adjusted to the darkness inside the dining hall, so the bright moonlight bathing the campgrounds was enough to hurt his eyes.

Off to the right, he heard the steady sound of small waves, lapping against the shore. Overhead, the wind, whenever it gusted, whistled in the pines. The sound was faint and lonely, like someone hissing a warning for him to be quiet. The resinous scent of pine filled his nose, but beneath that, he caught a hint of something else … something with a dead, rotting taste.

Under the shadow of the porch roof, Jeff walked over to the steps. With every step, the floorboards sagged from his weight. As he looked all around, trying to see where Evan had gone, he felt predatory … like one of those spiders he knew was lurking in the darkness above the rafters of the dining hall. He wasn’t out here taking a piss off the side of the porch, but maybe he was using the Port-a-Potty. Jeff strained to hear but didn’t catch any sounds coming from that direction.

So if Evan isn’t out here, where the hell is he?

Jeff hesitated to step out into the direct moonlight. If Evan saw him and confronted him, he could always say he’d come outside to go to the bathroom, but he was determined to know what Evan was up to.

Maybe if he found out, it would settle the unsettling feelings he had about this whole reunion weekend.

After taking a breath and letting it out slowly between his teeth, Jeff walked down the steps to the ground. He was shivering from the cold, but there was also something bracing … almost magical … about the night. Inky shadows of the pines shifted from side to side as the wind gusted, and clouds raced across the face of the moon. The effect was dizzying, making Jeff feel drunker than he knew he was as he started away from the porch. He kept looking looked for any sign of Evan, and was about to conclude that he was nowhere around when he saw a black silhouette shift against the backdrop of the trees. It disappeared from of sight in an instant, but Jeff knew it was on the path leading into the woods.

Was that him?

A bone-deep shiver griped him.

Or is that Jimmy’s ghost … or maybe our old friend Hobomock?

As Jeff headed in the same direction, walking away from the lake, he told himself it was ridiculous to let his imagination get carried away like this. It couldn’t be anyone
except
Evan, but Jeff was determined to make sure. He had to find out where he was going this late and what he was up to.

Make it a game,
Jeff told himself.
Pretend you’re twelve and are sneaking around, spying on people.

Chances were Evan wasn’t up to anything bad. Jeff sniffed with laughter at how foolish he would feel if he started along the path where it would be much darker in the woods, and he stumbled over Evan.

The sensible thing, he knew, would be to go back inside, throw some logs on the fire, and get back into his sleeping bag so he could warm up and sleep. Evan can do whatever he wants to do out there. He obviously was going far enough away from the dining hall so he could have some privacy. How awkward would it be if he found him jerking off out there or something?

What business was it of his, anyway?

He shouldn’t be following Evan around like this?

Still, Jeff had to know. When he stepped out from beneath the trees, the harsh glare of moonlight made him feel vulnerable, as if he had just stepped
into a
spotlight, and danger was all around him.

He hunched his shoulders protectively as he looked left and right. He felt certain Evan knew he was following him. He probably was already hiding somewhere nearby, watching his every move.

Jeff crossed the open space where the snack bar used to stand. All that remained was a slight depression in the ground and one or two old cement support posts that stuck up from the ground.

Behind that was the forest.

Jeff sucked in a quick breath and held it a long time before he stepped out of the moonlight and into the deep shadows of the trees. His heart was racing in his neck as he strained every sense to figure out where Evan had gone.

There were or, at least, had been well-worn trails winding all through these woods connecting different parts of the camp. The vast network of trails led from the tents to the latrine and dining hall, the meeting hall and the campfire site, the swimming area and the softball and soccer fields. Back when Jeff was a camper, this complicated maze of trails had been as familiar as the streets and shortcuts back home. He and his friends used to run along them day or night without the least concern. Besides, they were on an island, so it was impossible to get lost for very long before you made it to the shore and could follow it back to camp.

But now—for some reason—the forest and what might be left of the trails projected nothing but menace. As Jeff started along the trail—surprised that it was still
discernable after more than thirty years—he tensed, ready for something … for
anything
… to leap out at him from the darkness.

He couldn’t stop wondering why he was so worked up, but he couldn’t deny that there was something about Evan that raised his suspicion. Sneaking off into the woods like this was just one more thing that made Jeff wonder what his old friend was up to.

Slanting bars of silvery moonlight lanced through the pine trees, lighting Jeff’s way with bright splotches of pale light that only made the shadows under the trees that much darker. He paused every now and then and listened for some indication Jeff was somewhere up ahead. The only sound was the hissing of the wind in the pines as the wind gusted. It was too late in the year for crickets or frogs. The soft thud of his feet on the ground seemed strangely amplified in the surrounding darkness.

Jeff made his way along a trail that, he recalled, led out to the tent site where he and his friends used to bunk. He wondered if the latrine was still there. If it was, maybe Evan had come out here to use it instead of the Port-a-Potty.

As he navigated the narrow trail, Jeff realized he was getting disoriented. Even though there was no way he could really get lost, it would be embarrassing as hell if he went too far into the woods and couldn’t find his way back. For all he knew, Evan had already done whatever he had come out here to do and returned. Maybe he’d doubled back on another trail and was already back at the dining hall, wondering where the hell Jeff was off to.

When Jeff reached a fork in the trails, he paused and looked down first one trail, then the other. The one to his right, he knew, led out to the ball fields. The one to his left went past the latrine and then swung around past the old infirmary and finally back to the old tent site.

He doubted the old tent platforms would still be there. Any ropes or canvas that had been left behind when the camp closed would have rotted away long ago. Jeff wondered if Evan was feeling as nostalgic as he was, and had come out here simply to have a look around and reminisce about the old days. He had just decided to head out to the ball fields and see what was out there when a flicker of motion off to his left drew his attention.

Jeff dropped into a crouch and stared to his left, trying to discern what had caught his attention.

The woods got eerily quiet. The trees, swaying in the breeze, made the shadows flicker and wave with a peculiar underwater feeling.

Is that all I saw?
Jeff wondered as tension wound up his back.
Was it a tree shadow … or maybe a passing cloud?

He hoped so because who knew what had happened on this island in the thirty-five years since there was a camp here?

There could be deer or bear out her, or maybe even someone living out here, camping out illegally.

Before long, Jeff’s knees started to ache, so he straightened up, wincing as his legs extended and his knees popped. The tension in his neck and shoulders was sharp. He knew he should turn around right now and take the quickest path back to the dining hall.

But something urged him on.

He decided to go left and walk past the old latrines and tent areas. This would also take him past the old infirmary. He doubted that old building was still standing, either, but he smiled at a memory. One summer, he must have been nine or ten, he had gotten a bad case of poison ivy … so bad he spent the last three days of that camping season in the infirmary where the camp nurse, Mrs. Stott, practically bathed him in Calamine Lotion. The worst thing was that he’d gotten some on his crotch, and his tent buddies—especially Evan—had teased him unmercifully, asking him how he’d gotten it do
wn
there.

Jeff wished he could enjoy the peace and quiet of his late-night walk. He too
k several deep breaths and looked around, wondering why he couldn’t relax and appreciate the natural beauty that surrounded him. Living in a suburban of Portland, he hadn’t realized how out of touch with nature he’d become. Throughout his life, he had felt as though he had a deep connection with the natural world; but now—actually being in it—he felt differently. All he was aware of was the sense of danger … of something threatening.

The winding path looped around for half a mile. Jeff never saw the old latrine and assumed it, like the old snack bar, had rotted away long gone. Some time years ago someone must have demolished the old buildings and hauled away the lumber because Jeff hadn’t even noticed a depression in the ground. Now he realized he must already be passed it.

It was sad to consider that entire buildings, everything he knew and loved about this place, had rotted away in such a relatively short time. He assumed the infirmary would be gone, too, so he was surprised when he rounded a bend in the trail and saw the old building up ahead.

At a distance, it looked smaller than he remembered, but that had been a typical reaction this weekend. Moonlight edged the sloped roof with fine lines of silver that cast the front of the building into deep shadow. The small roofless porch out front remained, but Jeff couldn’t see if the front door was there or not. There was a large, black rectangle that certainly looked as if the door had been torn off.

Jeff slowly approached the building, trying to take in the flood of memories. It was as though he was moving in slow motion, in a dream. The moonlight cast sharp-edged shadows that rippled across the uneven ground. No matter how hard he tried to imagine it, Jeff just couldn’t accept that this was the same place he remembered from his youth. He wondered if Mrs. Stott was still alive. She must have been in her forties back then, so she would be in her seventies or eighties now. It was very likely she had died years ago, and he had never heard about it. He wished now he had thought to Google her before coming to the reunion, and he made a mental note to do just that when he got home.