Linwood Barclay: Far From True

They ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

They decided Derek was the one who should get into the trunk.

Before heading off, the four of them, Derek Cutter included, thought it would be cool to smuggle someone in. Not because they couldn’t afford a fourth ticket. That wasn’t the issue. They just felt the situation demanded it of them. It was the sort of thing you were supposed to do.

After all, this was the last night they’d ever have the chance. Like so many other businesses in and around Promise Falls these days, the Constellation Drive-in Theater was packing it in. What with multiplexes, 3-D, DVDs, movies you could download at home and watch within seconds, why go to a drive-in, except maybe to make out? And given how much smaller cars had gotten since the drive-in was first conceived, even that wasn’t much of a reason to watch a movie under the stars.

Still, even for people of Derek’s generation, there was something nostalgic about a drive-in. He could remember his parents bringing him here for the first time when he was eight or nine, and how excited he’d been. It was a triple bill, the movies becoming successively more mature. The first was one of the Toy Story flicks — Derek had brought along his Buzz Lightyear and Woody action figures — which was followed by some rom-com Matthew McConaughey thing, back when he was only doing crap, and then a Jason Bourne movie. Derek had barely managed to stay awake until the end of Toy Story . His parents had made a bed for him in the backseat so he could zonk out when they watched features two and three.

Derek longed for those times. When his parents were still together.

This night, the Constellation was showing one of those dumber-than-dumb Transformers movies, where alien robots inhabiting Earth had disguised themselves as cars — usually Chevrolets, thank you very much, product placement — and trucks. Morphing from car to robot involved a slew of special effects. Lots of things blew up; buildings were destroyed. It was the kind of movie none of the girls they knew were interested in seeing, and even though the guys tried to make them understand the movie itself didn’t matter, that this was an event , that this night at the drive-in was history , they’d failed to win them over.

Even the guys knew this was a dumb movie. In fact, there had been agreement among them that the only way to see a movie like this — whether at a drive-in, at a regular theater, or at home — was drunk. Which led to a decision that they would try to sneak not only a person into the drive-in, but some beer, too.

Thing was, this was a milestone piled on top of a milestone. This was the last night for the Constellation, and it was the end of the academic year at Thackeray College, which Derek had been attending for four years, and was now leaving. For what, he had no clue. He had no job prospects, other than maybe working for his dad again, cutting lawns, planting shrubs, trimming hedges. Had he gone to college for four years to run a leaf blower? Even his dad didn’t want that for him. And yet, there were worse things than working alongside his father.

For this one night, he wouldn’t think about his job future, or a couple of other things that had been weighing heavily on him.

The first was the death of a friend, just about the most senseless thing ever. This guy, he comes to college, goes to class, writes essays, tries out for some school plays — he’s just doing his thing like everybody else — and then one night campus security shoots him in the head while he’s supposedly trying to rape somebody.

Derek still hadn’t been able to get his head around it.

But then there was the other thing. Even bigger.

Derek was a father .

He had a goddamned kid.

A son named Matthew.

The news hadn’t come as a shock just to him. Even the mother was surprised, which sounded kind of weird, but it was a pretty weird, fucked-up story, and Derek still didn’t know all the details. He’d known that she was pregnant, but had believed the baby died at birth. Turned out not to be that way. He’d talked to her — Marla was her name — a few times since finding out the baby was alive, been over to visit her with his father in tow, and he was still kind of feeling his way through this, trying to sort out just what his responsibilities were.

“Hello?”

“Huh?” Derek said.

It was Canton Schultz, standing next to his four-door Nissan, the driver’s door open. Flanking him were Derek’s other friends from Thackeray, George Lydecker and Tyler Gross.

“We just took a vote,” Tyler said.

“What?”

“While you were off in la-la land, daydreaming, we took a vote,” said George. “You’re it.”

“I’m what?”

“You’re the one going into the trunk.”

“No way. I don’t want to go into the trunk.”

“Well, tough shit,” said Canton. “We’ve been standing around here talking about it, and you had nothing to say, so we made a decision. Thing is, it’s a very important job, being the guy in the trunk, because you’re the one protecting the beer.”

“Fuck it, fine,” Derek said. “But I’m not getting in now. It’s a ten-minute drive from here. We’ll pull over when we’re almost there — then I’ll get in the back for a couple of minutes till we get inside.”

The thing was, the trunk was very much a place he did not want to be. He didn’t want to be cooped up in there for two minutes, let alone ten. Back when Derek was seventeen, while hiding in the basement crawl space of a friend’s house, he’d had to listen while three people were murdered.

And hold his breath so the killer didn’t find him, too.

It was a big story in Promise Falls at the time. Prominent lawyer, his wife and son, all executed. For a while there, the police even wondered if Derek had done it, but they got the killer in the end, and everything worked out, so long as you didn’t count the fact that Derek was pretty much scarred for life.

Okay, maybe not for life. He’d managed to move on, pull his life together, go to school, make friends. His parents splitting up had actually hit him harder. But it didn’t mean he was happy to jump into a car trunk.

Derek was not a fan of confined spaces.

But he wasn’t a fan of looking like a wuss, either, which was why he’d proposed getting in just before their arrival at the drive-in. Everyone agreed that was reasonable. So, after putting a case of beer into the trunk, they piled into the car. Canton behind the wheel, George shotgun, and Derek and Tyler in the backseat.

It was already dark, and it would be after eleven by the time they got to the Constellation. The first feature would probably already be nearly over, but they weren’t interested in it anyway, since it was always something for kids. Not that a Transformers movie wasn’t for kids, but the opening flick would most likely be a cartoon that wasn’t all that scary. And even if they ended up late for the Transformers flick, how hard would it be to catch up? And before long, they’d be too drunk to care.

While Derek had not volunteered to be the guy in the trunk, he had stepped up to be the designated driver on the way home, and everyone was fine with that. One or two beers for him, and that’d be it. He’d get everyone back safely.

And after that, Derek didn’t know when he would see any of them again. Canton and Tyler would be heading home to Pittsburgh and Bangor, respectively. George Lydecker, like Derek, was a local, but Derek didn’t see himself hanging out with him. Derek was reminded of a phrase his own grandfather used to say about people like George. “He’s not wrapped too tight.”