The Wildman (16 page)

As they walked down to the boat, Tyler was yattering on about how he’d read an article in some magazine or newspaper about how it wasn’t really necessary to wait an hour after eating before going swimming. The whole justification for “quiet hour” in the tent, he said, was bullshit.

“
So if one of us falls in and has to swim,” Mike said, “he won’t get cramps?”

“
You would,” Fred said at the same time Tyler said, “Absolutely.”

Jeff was only half-listening to them, treating their banter like a conversation going on in another room with thin walls. He was unengaged and felt more than a little alienated. For him, this whole “reminiscing thing” had run its course. It bothered him that none of his old friends seemed to want to—or seemed able to
—discuss their current lives and what they that concerned them
now.

Maybe,
he thought,
just below the surface they’re just as miserable as I am … or maybe they see what a pathetic looser I am and don’t want to rub it in.

Maybe that’s it … Our lives have beco
me so boring … so empty and meaningless, all we can do is carry on about shit that happened thirty-five years ago.

If that was all he was going to get out of this weekend, he wished all the more he’d stayed home. If he wanted some time off, he would have been better off driving out to Ithaca for the weekend and seeing how Matt was doing.

When they got to the boat, Jeff realized something else was bothering him a lot more than he realized, and certainly more than he cared to admit.

No matter what he did, no matter where he went or what he said, he couldn’t stop thinking about Jimmy Foster.

A sour churning filled the pit of his stomach when he realized the boat was tied up close to where the old swimming docks had been … close to where they had pulled Jimmy’s body out of the water. As they got the boat ready, Jeff’s teeth were chattering, and he knew it wasn’t just from the cold as he looked up and down the deserted beach.

The wind was blowing hard, and far out on the water, gray waves were laced with whitecaps. Jeff’s memory of the lake was of warm, inviting blue water with a trace of algae bloom that turned it green in the sheltered cove. Even on rainy days, the lake water was always “piss warm,” as they used to say out of earshot of their counselor.

With winter fast approaching, the lake had changed. It looked cold and dangerous. Jeff shivered as a mental image rose up of Jimmy’s ghost, haunting the beach as ice sheathed the lake, and snow blew in blinding gusts across the land.

“
You even listening?” Tyler said so suddenly it snapped Jeff back to attention like the crack of a bullwhip.

Jeff shook his head, dazed. “Huh?”

“
I asked if you brought a bottle of rum along. It might be a nice warm-up once we’re out on the water.”

It still took a moment for Tyler’s question to sink in. Then Jeff shook his head and said, “Ahh—no. I didn’t think to.” He looked back at the dining hall. “Want me to go get some?”

“
Well, duh,” Tyler said.

Evan and Tyler exchanged looks of amusement or thinly veiled irritation that made Jeff think they were up to something. If this had been thirty-five years ago, he would suspect they were going to ditch him and take off in the boat by themselves.

But what sense would that make now?

Truth was, it would work in Jeff’s favor, because all he could think about was going back to the infirmary and checking it out to see what—if anything—was going on out there.

“
Sounds like a good idea to me,” Evan said as he slapping his arms to ward off the cold. “It’s a bit nippier than I expected.”

“
I told you we should have waited ‘till spring,” Jeff said through chattering teeth.

This was his chance to back out, but if he did, probably some or all of them would think better of it, too. That would defeat what he wanted to do, so he was going to have to figure out a way to take off by himself without anyone else knowing where he was going or what he was up to. It was beginning to look like that opportunity wouldn’t come until later … maybe not until tonight, once the rest of them were asleep.

Leaving the others to monkey around getting the boat ready, Jeff dashed back up the beach to the dining hall. It wasn’t far, but by the time he got there, he was more winded than he thought he should be. Sweat was running down the inside of his shirt, and he was sure that would make him more uncomfortable out on the water.

Inside the dining hall, out of the wind, Jeff felt somewhat relieved. He inhaled the smell of wood smoke and looked at the inviting fire, which was blazing away on the hearth. But being alone in the dining hall jacked up his nerves, if
anything, and he had a weird feeling that someone was nearby, watching him.

Stop being so goddamned paranoid,
he told himself.

But he couldn’t stop the feeling as he
walked over to his supplies, fished around in one of the bags, and grabbed an unopened bottle of Myers. Gripping it tightly with his gloved hand, he turned to leave, but he suddenly froze. The feeling of being watched was even stronger. He shivered at the thought that somehow … as crazy and impossible as it seemed … Jimmy Foster was close by, keeping a watchful eye on him and everyone else on the island.

Maybe he’s like Hobomock,
Jeff thought with a deep shiver, and he wondered if, when Evan’s development was finished and people were living out here, anyone would sense Jimmy’s … or
something’s
… presence.

Was the island really haunted by something more than their memo
ries of summers past?

Jeff was still bundled up against the cold and, not wanting to get too warm, he left the dining hall and started back to the beach, moving at a much slower pace. When he was about halfway there, a loud sputtering sound came from the beach as Evan started up the engine. It took a few tries, but as Jeff walked down onto the sand, the engine caught. A huge blue cloud of exhaust billowed out across the water and was swept away by the wind.

“
A little sluggish from being so cold overnight,” Evan said as Jeff joined the other guys at the water’s edge.

All of them watched as Evan gunned the engine a few times and then cast off. Once out on the open water, he gunned the engine a few times before taking off. The boat bounced and skipped over the choppy gray waves, leaving a wide wake before finally leveling out. A huge fan of spray rose from the side of the boat as Evan steered a wide, sweeping arc. His expression was frozen, and he looked like he was terrified, not enjoying himself.

“
Is he gonna come back for us?” Mike asked as the motor roared, and the boat skipped across the choppy water.

“
He’s just blowing off the stink,” Fred said.

After swerving around a bit, Evan guided the boat back to the shore. Cutting the engine, he rode it up onto the sandy beach where the hull crunched on the sand.

“
That can’t be good for the boat,” Fred said.

“
Someone’s gonna get wet shoving us off,” Evan called out. His face was pale with bright red splotches on the cheeks. As he shivered against the cold, Jeff questioned the wisdom of taking a boat ride today, but he smiled with contentment and patted the bottle of rum in his jacket pocket. He’d be fine, he told himself.

“
I got it,” Tyler said as he grabbed the rope Evan tossed to him. He stood back and let the others scramble on board. The boat was barely big enough to hold all of them, and Jeff worried that, with the water as rough as it was, they might not be safe.

Talk about taking a swim just after eating.

Now—if ever—it was time to back out, but he knew Evan and the others would insist he come with them, so he clambered aboard with the others and settled on one of the hard, wooden seats.

Once everyone else was settled, Tyler pushed the boat away from the shore. The engine was still chugging away, sending up a thinner cloud of exhaust that smelled like the fuel mixture was too rich. Ignoring the cold, Tyler waded out into the lake until the keel was free of the sand and then heaved himself up over the gunwales. He was wet halfway up to his knees, and his teeth were chattering as he settled on the seat next to Jeff.

“
I’ll take a slug of that rum now,” he said, leaning close to Jeff.

Before Jeff did anything, Evan gunned the engine, starting out maybe a bit too fast. Tyler almost fell over backwards, and whatever he said was lost beneath the roar of the engine. Jeff was sure he read Tyler’s lips correctly. Once he was seated securely, Tyler turned to Jeff and held his hand out to him.

“
Rum … Now!”

Jeff handed him the bottle and watched as he twisted off the plastic cap, breaking the seal. The skin on Tyler’s hands was so pale it was almost translucent as he toasted Jeff before tilting his head back and taking a huge, gulp.

“
Save some for the rest of us,” Fred said with a tight smile. He was hugging his arms to himself and shivering as Evan steered the boat out of the small cove and onto the open water.

Once they were out of the shelter of the cove, it was much colder than Jeff had expected. Within seconds, his face went numb, and the inside of his nose started stinging. The speed of the boat heading into the wind made the wind chill feel like it was twenty below.

Spray rose from the bow as the boat bounced across the choppy water. Every now and then, a particularly strong gust of wind would blow whitewater over the passengers, drenching them. Seated in the bow, Mike and Fred looked positively miserable, but Tyler was smiling. Maybe it was the rum. In the stern, Evan was grinning like an idiot when he got Jeff’s attention and said something. Whatever he said, it was lost beneath the wind and the roar of the engine. Jeff shrugged and pointed to his ears, indicating he couldn’t hear a damned thing, so Evan concentrated on piloting the boat.

In spite of the cold, Jeff had to admit that the island and lake had a certain raw beauty, in a Northern kind of way. Dark green slashes of pine swayed against the sky. Off to the west, a line of dark clouds was building up, promising more bad weather.

There weren’t many camps along the shore, and Jeff tried to imagine how, over the next several years, this whole area would be utterly transformed. It wouldn’t be long before it was unrecognizable.

Once again, a sad nostalgia for everything swept over him, and he mourned for what was going to be lost in the name of progress. Men and machines would chop down trees and rip up and remold the earth, bringing “civilization” and destroying the wild forest forever.

It didn’t seem right, but what could he or anyone else do to stop it?

It wasn’t his business, anyway. Evan and anyone else with enough money could come out here and do whatever the hell they wanted. Just because he’d spent a couple of summers here as a kid, that didn’t give him any special privilege or claim to the place.

Moving carefully and steadying himself against the pounding the boat took from the waves, Tyler got up and made his way back to Evan. They leaned their heads close together so they could talk. Jeff glanced at them and wondered what they were talking about, but then shifted his gaze, content to look at the wilderness in respectful silence.

When he was a camper, Jeff had taken a canoe out for a paddle every now and then. He and his friends—usually Evan—would pretend they were Indians, scouting the shoreline for enemies. But other than the boat ride to and from the island with his luggage each summer, he had never been far out on the lake like this. With the icy wind biting his face and working its frigid fingers inside his collar, he was sure it was an experience he wasn’t going to repeat in the near future.

Evan took the boat around the north end of Sheep’s Head Island. Once they were in the lee of the island with the wind blocked, the air felt almost pleasant. The engine was running smoothly, and the cloud of exhaust was gone.

Jeff watched as they came closer to the shoreline. Savoring the moment, he took the bottle of rum from his pocket and took a long pull. The he tapped Fred on the shoulder and passed it to him. Fred smiled widely as he took a drink before passing it along to Mike who handed it to Tyler and then to Evan.

As the bottle made the rounds, with the rum burning like a warm coal in the pit of his stomach, Jeff felt a moment of contentment. His eyes were watering from the cold wind, but he wiped his tears away with his jacket sleeve. In spite of the natural beauty surrounding them, though, all he could think about was getting back to the dining hall so he could warm up.

“
Hey!” Mike called out, giving Jeff a nudge on the shoulder. “There’s the Pulpit.”

“
The
what?
” Jef
f shouted so he could be heard above the roar of the engine.

“
The Pulpit! Don’t tell me you don’t remember the Pulpit.”

Jeff thought about it and then shook his head. As far as he could remember, he had never heard about such a place.

“
We used to come down here and fish,” Mike said. There was a distant, wistful look in his eyes as he stared at the chunk of gray granite that stood out on the end of the island. It was angled over the water and was squared off at the top. Jeff could see how it had come to be called “The Pulpit,” but he had never come fishing out here so far from camp. He and his friends used to catch “sunnies” and the occasional baby bass off the dock, but that was about it.