When Todd had the courage to raise his eyes to Andy, Andy was looking at him with very little expression on his face, other than a slight frown, his forehead wrinkled, more like he was studying something than reacting to what he’d heard. While Todd waited, anxiously, instead of speaking, Andy got off the bed and walked to his desk. There, he somehow reached into the middle of the leaning tower of clutter and extracted a photo album, steadying the rest of the precarious pile while doing so.
He brought the album over to the bed, then sat down next to Todd and handed it to him. He still hadn’t spoken a word.
Todd looked at him, then the book, then back at Andy. Andy had a wry grin on his face now. “Go ahead, look at it,” he said.
Todd opened the album. Inside, there was a picture of him. It showed him looking worried. He was standing in the school hallway, in front of his locker. The door was open, but he was looking down the hallway instead of into the locker, looking in the general direction of the camera, and the anxiety in his eyes, on his face, was obvious. The background was all slightly out of focus, but he himself was shown in crystal sharp detail. The combination of focuses made him stand out against the background, and made his fear more real and immediate.
“That’s one of my favorites. But there are more.”
Todd glanced at him, then back at the book and turned the page. There was another shot of him, this time outside but still at school, standing with a group of kids waiting to get on the bus. The photo, like all the ones Andy had taken, was startling. The composition showed a group of students, but looking closely, it could be seen that Todd, while standing with the group, really wasn’t part of it. It would have been difficult to articulate why that was, but the photograph somehow made it evident.
Todd looked at it for a moment, then turned the page. He kept doing that. Every picture in the book was of him. Yet each showed a different emotion. He saw many expressions, each expression reflected into the lens, seen in his eyes, each caught clearly by the camera and highlighted by the background or the composition, delineated by the fall of light on the planes of his face. Most of the pictures showed some form of unhappiness, ranging from fear to tears, from simple upset to brooding to defeat. As Todd neared the end of the book, he had yet to see a happy face. Taken individually, these were remarkable pictures of a boy. Taken together, they painted a painful story, showing not just a boy, but the soul of a boy. And that soul was sorely wounded.
Todd turned the last page and looked at the final picture in the album. It had been taken in the cafeteria. Todd recognized it at once. It was the day he’d poured out his pain to Mr. McCluskey, and asked if the man could help him get a computer cam for his room. Later that day, in the cafeteria, Mr. McCluskey had given him a thumbs–up, and smiled at him.
This picture showed Todd’s reaction to the man’s smile, to those upward pointing thumbs. For the first time in the album, Todd had a smile on his face. It was a picture in stunning contrast to what had come before. The change in perspective in the photo was dramatic, showing a totally different boy than the one who had been depicted before. He looked taller, somehow, and the radiance in his face didn’t appear to just be confined there, it seemed to shine from his entire being. Page after page of sorrow and angst and sadness, and then this. On this page, he seemed to be glowing.
Todd stared at the picture, flipped back to look at the ones just before it, then back to the last one. It really did look like a different boy. Todd studied it, looked back at the first picture again, then the last, and to his surprise, felt his eyes beginning to water. It didn’t make sense to him, feeling the emotions he was feeling. Seeing all that unhappiness hadn’t really affected him, but then he was having a hard time stopping himself from tearing up seeing just the opposite. He quickly wiped his eyes, turning away and hoping Andy didn’t notice.
Finally, he closed the book. He looked up at Andy. He started to speak, then cleared his throat first. “I don’t get it. Why all the pictures of me?”
Andy glanced down, then immediately raised his eyes again, meeting Todd’s. “You said you liked the way I looked. I like the way you look, too.” He hesitated, then said, “I can’t imagine you like my looks anywhere near as much as I like yours.” He blushed then, but didn’t drop his eyes. “From a photographer’s point of view, you have an amazing face. Your bone structure is unique, I think. Your face is all planes and angles. Whatever you’re looking at, whatever the expression you have, the light falls on your face, reflects off your face, and it’s different than I’ve seen on anyone else. It constantly changes while I’m looking at you.”
Andy didn’t pause, and continued as though what he was saying had been bottled up inside him and he had to get it out, now he had the chance and had started. “You said I was cute. I don’t know if I am or not. I don’t much think about it. But you. You’re incredible. I love looking at you, and taking pictures of you. You’d make a perfect model. All those expressions you have, and your face. Your face is wonderful. Handsome and beautiful and expressive. So, so expressive. So full of character. I think it’s perfect.”
Andy did stop then, and finally looked down to hide his blush. But he managed to mumble, “I’ve liked looking at you ever since the first time I saw you.”
Todd had no idea what to say. No one had ever said anything to him like this before. Looking in the mirror, all he saw was a face he didn’t think much of. He didn’t think he was ugly, but he certainly didn’t consider himself cute, and he sure wouldn’t call himself handsome, either. He was shocked to hear Andy say he was, and to hear in his voice how much he meant it.
Neither boy spoke for a moment. Then, finally, Todd asked, “But what about what I said. I’m gay.”
Andy moved then. He slid back up against the headboard again, where he’d been before. He didn’t speak for a moment, and then, when he did, his voice was soft and tentative. “I think I am too.” He squirmed then, and spoke apologetically. “I’m not ready for anything. I’m still coming to terms with it, with what it means. I’m pretty sure I’m gay, but I’m not ready to be out, and I don’t think I’m ready for a boyfriend.”
He looked up, then. And smiled. “I am glad you’re gay. I was hoping you were. I didn’t know, I can’t tell at all. I’ve never known anyone who was gay. I’ve felt different for a long time now. It’s part of why I’m so shy, I think, maybe why I’m into photography, which is something I can do entirely by myself. But being gay didn’t have anything to do with why I wanted to be your friend. I just liked the way you looked and acted. I saw how unhappy you were, how lonely. I am too. I really felt for you, for what you were going through. I kept watching you, all the time. I think I developed a crush on you.
“I took all those pictures of you because you’re so photogenic, but also so I could have them, so I could look at you whenever I wanted to. I look at them a lot, and daydream. I didn’t really ever think we’d be friends for real. But I liked you, even when I didn’t actually know you.”
He paused, and Todd could only stare at him, relieved and happy. Really, really happy as what Andy was saying sank in. He wanted to climb up on the bed next to him, but knew it would be the wrong thing to do. He just sat, and listened. But it was difficult. He wanted to touch Andy, at the very least touch him. He resisted, but it was hard.
Andy continued. “But I do know you now, and I know you’re gay, and you know I am, too. It scares me a little bit. I’m still getting used to the idea that I’m that way. I hope you don’t want to start doing things. I hope you don’t get tired of me and find someone else if I can’t do what you want. I’ll probably want to, sometime, I’m sure I will, but I’m not ready yet.”
He stopped, but had more to say; Todd could see it, and waited. Andy continued after a moment, his tone of voice having become wistful and tentative. “I’ve been alone for so long, it’ll take me a while to get used to simply having a friend. I don’t want to complicate it by having a boyfriend, too. Or rushing into doing things that I want to think about first. Is that OK? I don’t want to disappoint you.”
Todd had a huge smile on his face. “I’m not disappointed. I’m happy. Really, really happy.” Todd had been looking at Andy, feeling the happiness within himself, and feeling some relief, too. “I’ve thought about you a lot, ever since you were brave enough to talk to me. I really hoped you were gay, and that we could do things together. But I dreamed about being friends, too. In many ways, that’s even more important. While I was hoping you were gay, I was hoping just as much that you wouldn’t mind that I was.”
He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and put his hand on the part of Andy closest to him, his ankle. He squeezed it. “Don’t worry about me getting bored or finding someone else. Right now, I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I’m perfectly OK with us just being friends till we know each other better; I’m fine with that. If I ever start pushing, or start doing what you think is pushing, and it’s too much too soon and I’m making you uncomfortable, let me know. Tell me. I’m looking forward to having someone I can tell things to. How I feel, all that stuff. You can do that too. I want you to.”
Andy looked relieved. And then he started asking questions. “Have you ever had a boyfriend? Had sex with anyone? I’ve thought about it. I get horny like everyone else, I guess. But thinking about it and doing it, it’s different, at least for me. But I want to know what it’s like. Have you done anything?”
Todd smiled. “Yeah, I have, but just a little. Just sort of getting started, doing the first things two guys do, I guess. Not much, and then we were caught, and I was sent back here.” “You were caught! Oh my God! What happened?” Andy sat up straighter. “Can you tell me about it? And about what you did?” Todd laughed at Andy’s eagerness, and Andy blushed. But this was the beginning of getting to know each other better, and they both knew it. As Todd began telling Andy about Adam, and what they had done, and how they were caught, there was a feeling between them that hadn’t been there before. It was a feeling of closeness, the beginnings of the intimacy that comes with trust.
Andy listened, eyes wide, never saying a word. Todd noticed him getting excited when he told about the things they’d done, but didn’t say anything. He knew Andy would be embarrassed if he did, and he didn’t want that.
They spent the entire afternoon in the bedroom, just talking. When Andy’s mother called up to them that it was time for Todd to go home, they were no longer simply boys who were little more than acquaintances; they were two boys starting to be good friends, two shy boys both finally entirely comfortable with each other.
Andy’s mother got the car out of the garage, ready to take Todd home. Andy got in with Todd, both of them sitting in the back seat, looking at each other occasionally, frequently giggling. Andy’s mom kept her eyes on the road, a smile on her face the entire trip.
»»»» 0 ««««
Mr. Mortensen walked into the kitchen early and found Monica already up. She was sitting at the breakfast bar, drinking a cup of coffee, eating a piece of toast.
“You must be the new housekeeper. I’m Mr. Mortensen.”
Monica stood up, and said, “I’m Monica Dupree. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. I take my coffee black.” Then he looked at her, his expression imperious.
She looked back, then sat back down and had a sip of coffee. She looked up at him and said, “I do too,” and turned back to her toast.
Seething at the slight, Mr. Mortensen turned and walked out of the kitchen.
Monica reached for the newspaper, pulled out the local news section and began reading while she finished her toast.
»»»» 0 ««««
“How’s Daniel?”
Mr. McCluskey smiled at Todd. They were in his office. Todd had taken to frequently stopping in. Mr. McCluskey liked the boy and was happy to see him making progress. Todd no longer wore the lost, scared look he’d habitually evinced when they’d first met.
“He’s fine. He talks about you. You made an impression on him. He asks when you’re coming back.”
“He impressed me, too. He’s so, well, happy… and content. Maybe I was too, at that age, but it wasn’t long after that I was on my own, and never felt secure after that. I haven’t felt as secure and happy as he obviously is for a long time. I’m starting to again. Because of you.”
“Hold it, mister!” Mr. McCluskey’s face grew red, his eyes angry. Todd looked at him, and then giggled.
“How do you do that?” he asked.
Mr. McCluskey grinned. “Never you mind! But stop saying I did everything. You did most of it on your own. You asked me for help when you really needed it. What has happened has been almost all your doing. You need to feel good about that, about yourself. Good things happen when you take control of yourself and your problems. That’s exactly what you did, to the best of your ability. Don’t go giving me all the credit. Mine was the easy part. You did the heavy lifting.”
Todd smiled at the man’s intensity, remembering how only recently he’d been scared to death by it. The fact was, he was making progress, and he knew it. He felt so much better these days.
“We’ll have to get you to come babysit for Daniel sometime. He’d like it, and you would too, I’d think.”
“I would like that. I’ve never babysat, though.”
“There’s nothing to it. Just use your head. You’ll do fine. I’ll give you a call and let you know when.” Mr. McCluskey paused for a moment, then changed the subject.
“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, but I think you’ve earned the right to know. I called the shrink, uh, the psychologist, whose card I gave your father. Checking, like I told him I would. Your father did call him, and he’s seeing him. The guy won’t tell me how it’s going, but he is seeing him.”
“Thanks. It’s getting better at home, little by little. He’s starting to eat dinner with us more often. The thing that surprises me is, he and Geoff get along fine. Geoff wants to know about his job, and my father loves talking about that.”
“Geoff’s OK then?”
“Yeah. Better than that. He’s relaxed, he’s trying to be useful. He got my father to agree to let him use the woodshop that was in the basement when we moved into the house. Geoff is loving it. He’s building things, and they look good. But the strange thing, to me, is that he’s helping Monica in the kitchen. He’s learning how to cook! He made muffins this morning, from scratch. She watched him do it, but he did it all himself.”
Mr. McCluskey thought about that. “You know, he’s had no home life at all. Strange as it may seem, it sounds like he’s loving the normal family setting he’s in now, where people are polite to each other, talk together, and respect each other. I don’t think he’s had that before, family members relating to each other and acting like they care about each other. This is a first for him. He’s never spent time with a mother who loved him, or a father who discussed his work with him and taught him things or gave him advice. I think Geoff is soaking up what he has now. Making up for lost time.”
Todd nodded. “It seems like that. Maybe it’s just that he knows he has to find something to do after school is over for him. He’s not stupid, but he’s no scholar, either. He likes working with his hands, like in the woodshop, and cooking. He says if he’s still here in the spring, he’d like to work in the yard, maybe even put in a garden. I think he’s trying things out, maybe figuring out what he wants to do after high school.”
Mr. McCluskey smiled. “You might be right. I hadn’t thought of that, but it sounds possible. Is what he’s making in the shop really any good?”
“I don’t know much about it, but he has a book of project plans and he’s following them. The desktop assembly he made for my father really looks good to me. He stained it the same color as my father’s desk. He told me he had to mix some different stains together to get the match right. He finished it with a shiny coat, urethane I think he said, and when he brought it up from the basement and showed it to my father, it was amazing. My father, well, you know, he can be very formal, cold even, but he smiled big time when he saw that, and cleaned off his desktop right away. Geoff put it on the desk, fastened it, and told my father he could be more organized with all the small drawers, the pigeonholes and such. The two of them were talking like I wish my father would with me. I was happy seeing it, though, and not really jealous. Maybe that’s odd, or maybe I just don’t really expect that ever to happen. But it’s made me think. If he could be that way with Geoff, then he is loosening up, and maybe he can be that way with me too, someday.”
Mr. McCluskey was looking at Todd with a bemused smile. “So you really do realize, finally, that the problem between you two was his, not yours. I didn’t think you really believed that at first. You’re seeing it now. And you’re right, it was his problem; still is. But the fact you now accept that, that you’ve stopped blaming yourself, means you’ve come a long way.”
Todd grinned. “Yeah, I think I have. I feel better about almost everything. I’m happier. I’m not so down on myself anymore.”
Mr. McCluskey grinned back at him. “None of that new feeling would have anything to do with a blond–haired boy I see you walking with in the halls and eating lunch with, would it?”
Todd blushed, then looked Mr. McCluskey right in the eye, and with his own eyes suddenly taking on a challenging sparkle, asked, “And how is Gordon these days?”
Mr. McCluskey was still laughing hard as Todd left his office, holding his own grin in check.
»»»» 0 ««««
Geoff had taken to coming up to Todd’s room in the evenings after dinner. He spent much of the day in the shop in the basement, learning to use the tools, working on whatever he was building at the moment. When Monica was working in the kitchen, he joined her, and they had established a close friendship that included her no–nonsense criticisms of his techniques doing kitchen chores and his teasing her that he should get half her pay because he was doing half her work. Todd would overhear them chattering at each other and just shake his head. The Geoff he used to know would never have teased anyone playfully. Punched them, certainly; teased them looking for a laugh? No.
When the boys went to Todd’s room, Todd would settle by his computer and Geoff would sprawl on the bed. He’d ask Todd questions, and never seemed to run out.
Todd would ask him things, too. That night, he asked him something he’d been thinking about for a while.
“Geoff, you’ve been in lots of fights, haven’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“And you didn’t get scared.”
Geoff thought about that. “Sure, the first few times. But once I knew what I was doing, I was too busy thinking to be scared. There’s a lot involved, and thinking is as important as anything else.”
Todd fidgeted. It was uncomfortable for him to even think about a fight. The few times he’d had to raise his fists to protect himself, he’d been so overcome with fear he’d never got in a blow. “Could you teach me? I get scared and I don’t know the first thing about fighting or self–defense. Maybe if I had some lessons, I’d know what I was doing and some of my fear might go away.”
Geoff looked at him, looking smaller than ever on his chair. “I can do that. In your case, though, it might be better if you just ran. You’re too small to fight most guys. Even if you know what you’re doing, it would be hard to win a fight. Of course, there are things you could do….” He paused, his eyes on Todd, thinking.
“What?”
“OK. Why don’t I give you lessons. Every day, before we do homework. When you get home from school, we’ll spend some time in the basement, and I’ll show you some moves, how to handle some things.”
“You won’t hurt me, will you?”
Geoff got a sad look on his face and rolled over on his back, not answering. Finally, Todd got up and walked over to him. He looked down, but Geoff wouldn't meet his eyes.
“Geoff, you just don’t understand. You have no idea how scared I get. What you used to do hurt me a lot. Not only physically hurt me, but inside—mentally—too. You wouldn’t believe how much I hated you.
“But that wasn’t even the worst of it. You made me hate me, too. You made me totally aware that I had no courage. I was scared of you, and hated that fear, but couldn’t do anything about it. It made me see how worthless I was. I’d see you, maybe across the schoolyard, and I’d feel fear, and then hate. They were really strong feelings. It’s hard for me to get past that, even knowing you like I do now.” He stopped and scowled, his frustrations at his own weaknesses showing on his face.
“I know it doesn’t make much sense that I still feel some of that. I know you’re not like that now. You won’t hurt me. I know it and shouldn’t have asked you that. I’m trying not to feel that any more, and I do know that you’ve changed, too. But my emotions are just emotions, and I can’t entirely control them. I think it takes a long time for your emotions to change.”
Todd could see Geoff was upset and not looking at him, but felt he had to say what he was thinking, to explain himself. “The instant I see you, my heart beats faster, and I feel something like I felt back then. Scared. Ready to run. I can’t control that. But I want to change. I don’t want to be like that any longer. Maybe if you can teach me how to fight, it will help. I don’t like being afraid, but I still am if anyone starts talking tough to me.”
When Geoff still wouldn’t look at him, he sighed. “Look, Geoff, I do know you wouldn’t hurt me anymore. But I still see you as bigger than me, and know you could do anything you wanted to me, and I can’t help feeling like I do.”
When he didn’t say anything more, Geoff finally turned and looked at him. Todd could see his eyes were wet. Geoff rolled up and sat on the bed, and when he spoke, it was in a soft voice. “I’m so sorry. I know you now. Back then I didn’t care about how you felt. I only thought about me. I think about other people, now. I think about you a lot. You’re one of the nicest, most generous guys I’ve ever met, and hearing how I treated you, what it did to you….” Geoff stopped and screwed his eyes shut.
Todd sat down next to him, then surprised himself by putting his hand on Geoff’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’ll be helping me. Thanks.”
Geoff didn’t move, or look up. Todd got up and went back to his computer. When he looked up, a few minutes later, Geoff had left.
»»»» 0 ««««
Mr. Mortensen came into the kitchen early. It surprised him to find Monica there. She must get up as early as he did, he thought. Strange. Somehow, he’d always thought hired help were lazy. He equated them to employees who never did more than they had to not to get fired. That wasn’t what this woman was like at all. She did a great job around the house, she stayed well within her household budget and she got along great with Geoff and Todd. Maybe his perspective on people like her was just another problem he needed to deal with.
She was pouring herself a cup of coffee. He watched, and on a whim said, “Good morning! That smells great. Could you please pour me one, too? Is there enough?”
She turned and looked at him and smiled. “Sure thing. I believe you take it black, don’t you?” Then she laughed, poured him a cup and set it in front of him. “I’m about to make me some toast. You want some?”
»»»» 0 ««««
Todd had told Andy he wanted to watch what he did in his darkroom, so the next time he was over, Andy took him down into the basement where the darkroom was.
Todd was expecting it to be a small room, maybe like a large closet, maybe filling the empty space beneath the stairs. He was surprised to find it was almost as large as Andy’s bedroom. There was a sink, a long bench along one wall with shelves underneath that held many bottles of chemicals, an enlarger which took up some of the space on the counter which ran along the opposite wall, a counter that also held a print dryer, a paper cutter, and several other pieces of equipment that Todd didn’t recognize.
“OK. I’m going to develop the roll of film I finished today. Then I’ll make some enlargements from a film I developed yesterday that’s dry and ready for processing. I’ll tell you what I’m doing as I do it.”
Andy took a black plastic canister from the bench and twisted the top off. Inside were two plastic discs.
“OK, so I take the film from the camera, open the cartridge and wind the film on this spool. That has to be done in the dark. Any light at all might damage or ruin the film. When it’s on the spool, and I’ve put the cover back on the developing canister, then I can turn the light back on. Now watch.”
He opened the back of his camera and took out the roll of film, the film itself already having been rewound. Then he looked at Todd. “To get this film out, I have to take the end cover off the roll. I’m ready to do that now. We can have a red light on when we’re printing because the photographic paper isn’t sensitive to red light, but the film is. So, we need complete darkness when it’s out in the open. I’m ready now, but before I turn off the light, I have to tell you something.
“It’s completely dark in here when the light is off. You’ve probably never been in the dark before where there is absolutely no light at all. It’ll start to seem strange to you, because your eyes are used to adapting to the little bit of light in the room, and here, they’ll be trying to adapt, and there isn’t anything for them to adapt to. Some people find it scary, or disorienting. Don’t worry about it, just accept the fact that it’s black and won’t get better, and realize the light will go back on soon. OK, you ready?”
“Sure.”
Andy giggled. “I’m not sure you are, but here goes.”
He hit a switch on the wall, and the room was suddenly black. Pitch black. No light whatsoever.
Todd looked around and saw nothing. He closed his eyes, then opened them and found there was no difference. He heard Andy working with the film, standing right next to him, but couldn’t see anything. Andy had to be moving, at least his hands and arms, but Todd could see no motion at all.
Todd raised his hand and waved it in front of his eyes. He couldn’t see that, either, no matter how hard he tried.
Andy had been right: it was definitely weird. And the longer Todd spent in the complete darkness, the weirder it got. The darkness was so absolute, there was almost a texture to it, perhaps a force field. He felt an urge to grab something and hold on, to be grounded.
His discomfort grew the longer he remained in the inkiness, as the reality built that his sense of sight was entirely gone. Finally, Todd reached out and put his hand on the bench in front of him and said, “Andy?”
“Right here.” Todd thought he could hear Andy chuckle.
“Uh, you about done?”
“Why?” There was a challenge in Andy’s voice and the suggestion of laughter was stronger.
“What do you mean, ‘why’? You about got that film in the container? How long does it take, anyway?”
Andy did laugh then, and Todd felt the boy’s fingers touch his hand, and then Andy was holding it. Todd’s nervousness faded quickly away.
“Really dark, isn’t it?”
Todd nodded, then felt foolish. “Yeah, it sure is.”
“I was done a few minutes ago. It only takes me a few seconds to load the film. I left the light off, just so you could feel what it was like. Want it back on?”
Todd was about to say yes, but then didn’t. Instead, he said, “In just a moment.”
Todd kept holding on to Andy’s hand, then ran the fingers of his other hand up Andy’s arm, tracing it all the way up to his neck, locating exactly where Andy was. Then he leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“OK, I’m ready for the lights now. Or, maybe you want to wait a sec longer? So I won’t see you blushing?”
»»»» 0 ««««
Vic Harper was sitting at a bar. He spent so much time there, it was like he lived there. He was buddies with the bartender who was working tonight. Vic gave him some free meth now and then, and the bartender only charged him for every third or fourth beer he drank, doing that only so anyone looking would see Vic paying, see the till being opened and closed.
The bar was very dark, which was one of the reasons Vic liked it. There also was a closed circuit camera outside that checked the parking lot and the door. It was connected to a small screen behind the bar so the bartender could see anyone who drove up to the place, including cops. Whenever a prowler rolled in, he’d yell out, “Cops,” and anyone in the place who wasn’t interested in talking to the cops right then could either scram out the back, or go to a place in the basement if there was more than one cop car, a place that wasn’t obvious unless you knew it was there.
Vic had been sleeping in that basement room the past few days.
Now, he was on his seventh—or was it his eighth? He couldn’t remember—beer, and was grousing to himself, sometimes audibly. There was an empty stool on each side of him. That was usually the case. Not too many people liked to associate with Vic, drunk or sober. There was an air of menace about the man.
He knew the cops were still looking for him. He had a contact in the police department, one he gave meth to. The contact sold it to some of the kids in town who wanted it. It was money out of Vic’s pocket, but the information he got made it well worth it. Just the cost of being a businessman, he figured.
Being a businessman, he was thinking about things, and thinking about maybe he’d been in this town long enough. Thinking it had been swell, but it might be time to hit the road. He’d invested a lot of time here, and had things set up pretty good, but, he was thinking, it might be time to pull the plug. Just a feeling he had.
He knew the cops were looking for him, wanted to talk to him about Allen, and would probably start asking other questions, too. Damn Allen. It all came down to him, and Geoff, too, because Geoff had been the reason for Allen. Vic was angry about that. Vic, angry, wasn’t someone anyone wanted to deal with.
He’d been thinking, ever since he found Allen unconscious and Geoff gone, that he had to make sure he wasn’t in trouble. He’d done time once; he wasn’t going to again. He knew how the system worked. Unless they had some sort of proof you’d done something, you walked. They thought he was the meth supplier in town, but they had to prove it for him to be in the shit.
Where he made the stuff wasn’t a problem. He always made sure there was nothing there that tied the place to him, and always made sure the place wasn’t being staked out before he went in. But he’d had to be doubly sure he was safe, after Allen, and he was afraid of what Geoff might tell people, so when he left the house that night Allen was hurt, he’d driven over to the meth lab. He stopped along the way and collected one of the homeless guys who slept on the streets. The guy was happy to come with him when he showed him the bottle of Thunderbird he’d bought for the purpose.
He drove them both to the shanty in the woods outside town where he had his lab. He liked that word, lab. It was the place he made his shit, but calling it a lab seemed to add some class to it. When they got there, he took a slug of the wine, cringing at how bad the stuff was, and passed the bottle to the wino. The guy took a long pull, and Vic grabbed the bottle back. “Hey, let’s go inside to drink this. It’s warmer in there. Cold as a whore’s ass in Alaska out here.”
No complaint from the guy, of course. He was going where the wine went.
They got inside, and Vic handed him the bottle, said he’d be right back, he had to go outside for a piss first. He walked back through the door, locked it, then poured gasoline around the edges and torched the place. With all the chemicals inside, it was an inferno pretty quickly. He doubted they’d ever identify the wino. They’d assume it was the guy making meth who’d died in the blaze, which he’s caused by his own carelessness. He hoped they’d assume it was him. But if they proved it wasn’t, that was OK, too. Either way, the heat was off him.
The cops could suppose whatever they liked, and while he hoped they’d suppose it was him, he wasn’t counting on it. Any informants they talked to could say what they liked, too. In the end, none of it mattered without proof, or without plausible testimony.
Testimony. That’s what it came down to. He didn’t have to worry about Ray, what with him being dead and all. The fact Ray had sold meth could probably be proved. There’d be witnesses, users probably, who’d testify to that for some sort of deal to help themselves. But proving Ray had been dealing didn’t mean shit when it came to charging Vic with anything.
Allen was the problem. He was still in a coma, but Vic had talked to the doctor that first night, before the cops began looking for him, and the doc had said Allen could be in the coma for days, but he could come out of it at any time, too. Worst, the doc had said Allen seemed to him to be showing signs he’d be doing that. It was a serious concussion, but he’d seen worse that people had come out of, especially kids.
That was a worry. He didn’t think Allen would rat him out, but if they had people willing to testify against him, and they told him they’d make a deal, Allen might go for it. The kid was a pussy.
Vic ordered another beer. When it came, the bartender said something to him, but he ignored it, swiveled around on his stool so his back was to the man, and surveyed the bar. Not many people tonight. Good. Fewer people who might give him up to the cops.
He had to do something about Allen. He just didn’t know if the kid would rat on him or not. It wasn’t a risk he was going to take.
He wasn’t going inside again.
There’d been four risks. His wife and his three sons. He didn’t think the youngest was much of a problem. He was only seven, and not too bright. He got confused a lot, sometimes didn’t talk for a week or so. His wife had wanted to take him to a doctor, but he’d persuaded her that wasn’t a good idea. When she’d recovered, she didn’t say any more about it, just started drinking a little more each day.
Too bad about her. She wasn’t good for much but a hard fuck most nights. Now that she was drinking pretty much through the day every day, she was sort of spaced out most of the time, just going along with whatever he wanted. Which was perfect. She’d take it any way he was in the mood for, and never complained. Not after the last time she did. He could screw her in the ass out in the living room now, with company watching, and she wouldn’t say a word. Of course, they never had company, and he wasn’t much for people watching, but he could, if he ever felt like it. He liked knowing he could, too. There was comfort in that.
Yep, too bad. He’d had to think about it a long time. But in the end, it hadn’t been that difficult. She could have testified. She knew all there was to know about his meth operation. She’d be scared to death to talk, but if they convinced her that he was going away and wouldn’t ever get out again, she might be willing to testify. They couldn’t make her, her being his wife and all, but if she volunteered, they could use it. And she might. The fact was, she might.
So he’d had to make sure she wouldn’t. He’d taken her and the boy out for a drive. That’s what he told them. He drove out of town a few miles, taking a road that wasn’t used much, and when he was where he thought it was isolated enough, he pulled into a dirt road that ran into the woods and didn’t go anywhere, was just there for firemen to get their equipment in if they ever had to. He drove in about a mile, mile and a half, then pulled to the side. His wife had her bottle with her. She’d been taking pulls on it. She didn’t even ask why they were there, or why he’d stopped. He’d told her to come with him, so she’d come with him. The boy wasn’t asking anything either. Just sitting in the back seat, looking around, sort of vacant–eyed like.
He got out, walked around to her side and opened her door. “Come on. I want to show you something I found here a couple days ago.”
She staggered a little getting out. He held her arm, and they started into the woods. She slipped on the uneven ground, and her arm pulled out of his grip as he was trying to grab her with his other hand, and she went down. He thought, what the hell, here’s as good as anywhere, and leaned down and broke her neck. No problem at all. Then he went back and got a shovel out of the trunk. Told the boy to stay where he was.
He carried her into the woods a ways, dug a hole deep enough that no animals would be digging her up, then dumped her in and started to fill it in. He stopped after a few shovelfuls. The boy. The kid might be a problem. No need for him to be. Why not just put him with his mother? No reason not to. What did he want with a little boy, anyway?
He wasn’t going back inside again. Not for some dumb boy who was worthless as crap.
He walked back through the woods to the car. He opened the back door. The boy was gone.
Vic looked around. Maybe he was just taking a piss. But he couldn’t see him, and while he was looking, he got to wondering. Vic had done the kid’s mother right on the edge of the woods. Did the boy see? He could have.
He yelled the boy’s name, over and over, but all he got was silence.
Damn! He couldn’t go looking for him; he could be anywhere. Besides, he had an open grave to deal with and wanted to get the recognizable car out of here. He walked back to the grave, filled it in, stamped it down flat and spread dried leaves over it. Looking back at it from a distance, he couldn’t even tell where it was.
He walked back to the car, threw the shovel in the trunk, then called for the boy again. Nothing.
He thought about it some and decided there was nothing he could do about it, and the boy wasn’t worth the hassle anyway. He wouldn’t survive out here on his own. It was cold at night, getting down into the teens, and the boy only had a light jacket. For all Vic knew, he wasn’t even smart enough to hike back up the dirt road they were on to find the highway. He’d probably just sit by the road, waiting for Vic to come back for him.
Vic got in the car and drove backwards a ways, then stopped. He kicked at the dirt along the edges of the road to hide the tire tracks, walking back to where he’d stopped. Then he went back, backed up for a long distance before turning around, and drove back to the highway.
He cruised around a bit, just in case the boy did come out of the woods. He didn’t really want to stay in the area and have his car noticed, but then he didn’t want the boy popping up, either.
Now he sat at the bar, remembering, and thinking about Allen, and the boy, and Geoff. Allen would be easy. The boy had probably frozen to death in the wood; one way or another, he was probably dead. And he figured he’d be able to find Geoff. He needed to do that, but it shouldn’t be hard. He knew a lot of people who were afraid of him or wanted meth. They’d all talk to him. So he’d find Geoff. Which was good. He took a long pull of beer, emptying the bottle, and tapped it on the bar for another.
He thought about where Geoff might be. He had to find him. He still had some cleaning up to do.