Ike Hamill: The Vivisectionist

Ben nodded and mouthed “Yes.”

They sat looking at each other without speaking for an eternity.

In the morning, Jack didn’t even think about the night’s visitor until he exited the tent. The cooler of food they had carefully lifted into the tree was lying on it’s side a dozen yards from the tent. What remained of their food was strewn about their site. Jack followed the rope from the cooler back to the big maple tree. The rope ended with a frayed end, as if it had been gnawed through. Jack picked up the garbage while Ben remained asleep in the tent.

Jack took the bag of trash into the garage, and met his mom on his way to the bathroom.

“How is roughing it treating you?” she asked.

“Great! Everything is perfect,” he replied.

“Your dad wanted me to remind you that you had an agreement about keeping a clean campground,” she chided. “He said there was a bit of a mess this morning?”

“I’m sorry. It’s all cleaned up now. Don’t worry — it won’t happen again. I guess we were just a little excited last night.”

His mom studied his face. Jack looked away and then continued to the bathroom.

“Don’t forget about dinner on Friday, and you have to take a shower at least every other day.”

“Okay. I remember,” Jack called as he walked away.

The boys ate a quick meal of Pop Tarts and half a carton of chocolate milk. The milk had a puncture in its side and leaked as they drank. They organized their site, put on their hiking gear, and decided to head for the quarry. They talked only of the mechanics of the trip — no idle conversation, or discussion of the previous night’s events.

Jack was able to navigate them out of the neighborhood through vacant lots and undeveloped strips of woods. Although they passed close to several houses, they ignored the buildings and pretended they were in the wilderness — far away from civilization. Where the path was ill-defined, they took time to cut back brush and make it passable. They dragged thick branches to lay across the creek to make rudimentary bridges where they needed to cross. In places where the path split, they back-tracked and stomped down the wrong path to throw off imagined stalkers.

After a couple of miles, their path broke out of the woods and followed a power-line cut. Central Maine Power had cut a neat strip through the woods about fifty yards wide. The path they followed meandered through this strip, back-and-forth, under the power lines. Their pace increased as they didn’t have to do any maintenance on the trail.

“Hold up — I think it’s around here,” said Jack.

“What’s around here?”

“There’s a little side trail that goes over to the quarry. I think it’s right around here,” replied Jack.

“Is that it?” Ben pointed back down the trail a few yards.

There was a small break in the blueberry bushes that looked like it was once a path.

“Could be. Let’s find out,” said Jack.

They followed the modest path back into the woods where it soon petered out.

“I don’t think this is anything,” said Jack.

“Boy, you give up too easy — look,” pointed Ben.

Following Ben’s outstretched arm Jack saw what Ben saw: there was a tiny amount of sunlight coming from between the trees.

“Try to keep up,” said Ben as he worked his way through the woods.

When navigating the close branches Jack was at a significant disadvantage with only one working arm. He ducked and dodged, trying to to keep up with Ben. Overhead they could see blue sky between the branches, suggesting a clearing up ahead. At their level, even Ben had a hard time pushing through the dense underbrush.

“Hey, I think I… Whoa!” yelled Ben.

Jack saw Ben overbalanced and disappearing quickly through a gap in the thick bushes. He recognized the scene — it felt like he was watching himself from behind as he fell from the garage loft. All that was left of Ben was his legs at waist-height, and they were slipping away. Jack threw himself forward and grabbed for Ben’s shoe. He knew that if the quarry were on the other side of this bush, Ben could be falling into a deep pit.

Jack managed to get a handful of shoe, with his fingers hooked in next to Ben’s ankle, but Ben’s momentum carried them both forward. Digging in his knees, Jack stopped himself and Ben’s shoe popped off in his hand.

“Ben!” Jack screamed as he thrust his face through the bushes.

“Hey, what are you thinking?” asked Ben — inches from his face.

“Oh man, I thought you fell.”

“I was going to, until you stole my shoe,” replied Ben.

Ben helped Jack through the bushes where he could see that they were on the lip of a small sand pit. Ben grabbed his shoe from Jack and sat down to put it back on.

“I think there’s a path over there,” Ben nodded towards the far side of the pit.

They made their way around the sand and found a four-wheeler path that led through a brief stretch of woods before opening up to a large dug-out area. They carefully slid down the side, to the bottom of the quarry. Four-wheeler tracks all around them suggested the pit had heavy recreational use now. They explored the different areas and worked their way around to a flat rock next to a big pool of water. The water was a strange shade of blue-green.

Protected from the wind, it was quickly becoming very hot on the rock. The boys took off their shoes and socks and dangled their feet in the cool water. They balled up their shirts, and leaned back on the hot rock, using their shirts as pillows as they laid in the sun.

“Do you come over here much?” asked Ben.

“Nope, not very often. My friend Mark showed it to me one time. His dad used to work for the sand and gravel place.”

“Jeez, I’d be down here all the time, this place is neat,” said Ben.

“Well we haven’t really had the chance. I mean, I’ve only lived here a couple of years, and that stuff with that Vigue kid. I couldn’t even leave the house for like two months,” said Jack.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I had to go everywhere with my brother. Doesn’t that kid live right near you?”

“Well, he did . Just a couple houses away,” replied Jack. “My dad used to do some stuff with his dad, but not anymore. Now that guy is really angry all the time.”

“How old is he — the kid I mean?” asked Ben.

“I don’t know, maybe six or something. He was just a little kid,” Jack said and paused, then asked “Hey, what do you think got into our food last night?”

“You know, I’ve been thinking about that a lot, and I think there’s only one answer… The ghost of Gabe Vigue, ” Ben laughed.

“Yeah, real funny,” said Jack.

“Wow, lighten up already.”

“Seriously though — that was something big that took down that cooler,” said Jack.

“Probably just a raccoon or something,” replied Ben.

“Have you ever heard of a raccoon figuring out how to break into a food stash hung fifteen feet up?” asked Jack. “How did it know to chew that rope?”

“We’re not talking about any old raccoon here, dude. If you haven’t noticed, that’s one nice neighborhood you live in. You probably have some well-educated animals patrolling those yards,” joked Ben.

They laid in the sun for several minutes without talking.

“You know, I’m starting to get hungry — maybe we should get out moving,” said Ben.

“Yeah, let’s get wet first,” replied Jack.

They deemed the water too cold for full immersion, but decided to dip their heads and splashed around a bit before heading back to the path. On the way out of the pit they found a proper trail back to the power lines and marked it with their swiss army knives — peeling a small amount of bark from selected trees.