Ike Hamill: The Vivisectionist

Forty-five minutes later, Jack remotely unlocked the program on his dad’s machine. Twenty minutes after that he completed his light load of homework. In this last week of school, all the assignments felt like a teacher’s afterthought.

Jack and his parents sat at their kitchen table. His parents enjoyed the dinner, but Jack's thoughts remained on the Vigue house. One of Jack's hands propped up his head as the other pushed his fork across his plate. His gaze wandered through the picture window to the dusk spreading across the back yard.

“I had good news this evening,” said his dad. “Our invoicing is back up. I decided to try it once again before switching to that other thing, and it just popped right up. What would cause that, Jack?”

Jack answered without looking at his dad: “Dunno, maybe an update from the Internet?”

“Well, you’re the expert,” his dad smiled.

Jack felt his mom’s eyes, but continued to look out the window. The urge to return her glance was starting to become overwhelming when the phone rang.

“I’ll get it!” exclaimed Jack as he jumped up from the table and crossed the room. He grabbed the phone and said, “Hello?”

“You figured out how to use the phone — I was worried the ringing would scare you away.” It was his best friend, Ben.

“Yeah, right. Your mom dial for you?” replied Jack as he smiled.

“You still got school?”

“Yeah, three more days.”

“It’s like a prison over there — how do you stand it?” asked Ben.

“Well they actually expect us to learn things. Must be a weird concept to you,” Jack laughed.

“Hey, so what’s going on this weekend? You ready for camping?”

“Well yeah, of course,” said Jack, “I got the tent laid out already,” he exaggerated. He had at least thought about getting the tent out.

“Sweet,” said Ben.

“How long can you stay?” asked Jack.

“I got nothing else this summer, my dad’s out west,” replied Ben.

“Really? Cool!” said Jack, surprised.

“Yeah, definitely. But oh, there’s uh… Stephen is coming,” Ben said.

“Oh yeah? When?” asked Jack.

“July… He’ll be here three weeks. Only three.”

“Good. I mean, why don’t you ask him to come along?” asked Jack. He tried to sound enthusastic, but he tried too hard and it rang false.

“Sounds good, I’ll tell him. We’ll hang out. It’ll be cool.”

“Yeah, that’s cool.”

“It’s going to be an awesome summer. Remember the goal?” asked Ben.

“How could I forget? It’s all you talk about,” replied Jack.

“They’re going to be spectacular, I guarantee.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see. Can’t you just get that stuff online like everyone else?”

“Not like these my friend, not like these,” said Ben.

“I gotta get back to dinner — I’ll see you soon.”

“See ya,” said Ben, and they hung up.

When Jack got back to the table he could tell his parents had discussed something weighty. His dad was the first to break the silence.

“Hey Bub, who was that?” asked Jack’s dad.

“Just Ben.”

“He still coming next week?” asked his mom.

“Yeah, he said he can stay all summer because his dad’s out west,” replied Jack. “Is that okay?”

“As long as you mean all summer except when you’re going out to see your grandparents, right?” asked his dad.

“Oh, yeah right. Except then,” said Jack. His face flattened.

On Thursday, Jack finished middle school.

“Have a good summer, Jack,” Mr. Shields, the bus driver, said.

“Thanks, you too!” replied Jack.

Jack rushed home. He was on a mission. He looped his thumbs into his backpack, pulling himself home. Rushing up the porch stairs, Jack threw open the screen door and almost ran into the door. It was locked; he dug out his key. Casting off his pack in the hall, he headed immediately for the garage. He was surprised to find his mom’s car in there; that meant she was somewhere close enough to walk. Another oddity, but Jack wasn’t concerned.

On the far end of the garage, a makeshift ladder was nailed to the wall. His dad was too heavy for this ladder, so Jack was quite familiar with the loft area in the eaves. For several years Jack had been responsible for fetching gear from the garage loft. He climbed with confidence.

Jack kept all his camping gear stowed in a neat pile. He had a small section of rope to haul up the large items. He tied this to the tent and lowered it to the floor. It took a lot of time and effort to climb down to unhook each item, and then back up to lower the next. He repeated the process until he had a good-sized pile moved including tent, folding chairs, cooking equipment, and all the other comforts. He and Ben would camp no more than thirty yards from the house, but they wanted to feel completely independent.

Jack had one more trip to get the cooler. He had saved it for last because it was light and already close to the edge. Jack always saved the easy stuff for the end. When he bent for the cooler, the plywood floor of the loft cracked sharply and he heard debris hit his mom’s car below. Jack shuffled his feet, trying to get more solid footing over the joists, but he slipped on the dusty plywood and tumbled over the edge of the plywood floor.

Jack raised his arms to cushion his fall and had just enough time to squeeze his eyes shut before he hit the floor.

Jack was having a bad dream. He tried to roll over and felt a stab of pain in his left arm. He couldn’t seem to focus his eyes, but he figured out that he was in the garage. The fall from the loft started to leak back into his thoughts, although he saw it from behind, as if it had happened to someone else.

“Honey?” he heard his mom calling from the kitchen.

“Here…” called Jack.

The next twenty minutes were a flurry of activity.

“What did he land on?”

Jack awoke to see an older man with a clipboard talking to his mom. A long wait in the emergency room had lulled him to dozing.

“Um, camping gear? I guess. Well he was right next to it when I … sleeping bags and stuff,” stammered his mom.

“Huh,” said the man. “Well, it could have been a lot worse. Oh, he’s awake.” They both looked at Jack.

“How are you feeling? I’m Dr. Lambert — please follow the light.” The doctor shone a bright light into Jack’s eyes.

“Okay.” Jack’s tongue felt weird — soft on one side.

Dr. Lambert turned back to Jack’s mom. “Not much obvious trauma. A mild concussion. What do you remember Jack?”

“I fell out of the loft. I tried to miss the car.”

“Oh, Jack!” his mom interjected.

“Any pain when I do this?” asked the doctor.

“Yes!” exclaimed Jack as Dr. Lambert extended Jack’s left arm.

“Are you left-handed?”

“No,” Jack and his mom answered simultaneously.

“Another piece of good luck. A sling for three to four of weeks should help the arm heal up, but we may want to keep him for observation tonight. Depends on the results of those tests.”

“But Ben’s coming!” cried Jack, turning to his mom.

“It’s okay Jack, he’ll be okay without you for one day.”

“He can still come?” asked Jack.

“Of course,” Jack’s mom turned to the doctor. “Are there any activities he shouldn't do? He was going to go camping.”

“No, no, he’ll be fine,” replied the doctor. “The sling will isolate the arm and let it heal.”

An hour later, Jack felt very lucky when the test results came back — he would return home that night.