Ike Hamill: The Vivisectionist

The trip back was significantly shorter than their trip out. They made it back to the house a little after noon.

Their raided cooler didn’t hold much in the way of appealing lunch material, so they relented and decided to visit the kitchen. Inside, Jack’s mom was doing laundry.

“There you are — Jack, can I talk to you for a minute?” asked Jack’s mom.

“Just a minute, mom, we’re making sandwiches,” replied Jack.

“Now, Bub,” she said. His mom directed him into the laundry room while Ben busied himself with his sandwich and pretended to ignore the conversation.

“Jack, do you remember the conditions you agreed to when we said you could camp out this summer?” she asked Jack. Her voice was gentle, but her face stern.

“Yes, we had to keep a clean site, no fires after ten, dinner with the family twice a week,” Jack slowed, “um, shower every other day.”

His mom cut him off — “And you’ll check in if you’re leaving the property? Ring a bell?”

“Oh yeah, check in.”

“Where’d you go this morning?”

“Oh, I’m sorry — we didn’t even think of it. We went to the power lines,” said Jack.

“Jack! You need to check with me before wandering off like that — that is not acceptable.”

“Yes, mom.”

“Okay, yes, but I need to know you’ve gotten the message,” she said.

“Yes, I got it,” he replied.

“Just to be sure — you’ll stay here the rest of the day. You’ll have your shower today, and then you’ll have dinner with us tonight.”

“Okay,” said Jack. He looked at his feet — there was no use arguing with his mom.

“It’s not the end of the world — you can put your stuff away in the rec-room while you’re here. Then you won’t have to worry about that for the rest of the summer.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, then,” she said. “Go eat your sandwich.”

He started to leave, and she called him back. “Jack, one other thing — I put fresh sheets on the guest bed. Tell Ben he can sleep there tonight.”

“We have to sleep inside? Aw, mom!” Jack whined.

“Just tonight. You can go back to your camp tomorrow.”

“Alright,” he moaned.

He returned to the kitchen with his shoulders slumped. Ben had a mouthful of sandwich. He looked at Jack and raised his eyebrows.

“I got in trouble because we went for hike without letting her know. We have to stay here tonight,” Jack said.

Ben swallowed. “Big deal — just one night, right?” he said and picked up his sandwich again. “I miss TV anyway.”

They both laughed.

After eating and getting cleaned up, the boys spent a couple hours in the basement rec-room. Jack knew the minimum amount of effort he would have to show to get his mom’s approval that he had attempted to clean up his stuff. Ben spent most of the time laying on the couch and reading a bicycle magazine he had found.

When they were finished downstairs, they headed up to Jack’s room. They played video games, watched TV, and talked until they were completely bored. Eventually they invented a game where they shot rubber bands at each other until one of them got hurt. After pausing for a few minutes they would be back to shooting.

“So what’s your dad doing this summer?” asked Jack.

“He’s representing some tribe suing California,” said Ben.

“Huh. For what?”

“Who knows. Ow! You got me right in the eye,” said Ben. They both laughed as Ben rubbed his eye.

They said simultaneously — “It’s only fun and games if someone gets hit in the eye.” That had been their mantra the summer before last.

“Remember the forbidden race?” asked Jack.

“I remember who still holds the world record,” bragged Ben.

They had invented a race in Ben’s basement during a week of rain, two summers before. It had involved rolling an office chair through all the rooms of the basement while gripping the arm rests. The floor was tile and they reached improbable speeds — pushing off against walls and furniture. The race had become “The Forbidden Race” when Ben had knocked over a bookshelf. A crash of books had summoned Ben’s mother who had banned the game. After that they had to race very quietly, and only when they were sure she wouldn’t hear.

For Jack, that had been the last fun week that summer. The following weekend Stephen had shown up. Stephen was the son of friends of Ben’s parents. Apparently, they had played together when they were four, so the parents all assumed that the kids should still be best friends. Jack considered himself Ben’s only legitimate best friend and resented the intrusion.

To make things worse, Stephen felt the need to brag about everything and devise ways to drive a wedge between Jack and Ben.

“Dinner time,” Jack’s mom called from downstairs.

The boys raced down the stairs.

Jack thought his dad would be angry, but dinner went very well. His dad gave him only a little bit of a hard time to enforce his mom’s punishment. It seemed that all was forgiven. After dinner they all watched TV in the family room and then the boys went back up to Jack’s room.

Soon after it began to get dark outside, Jack realized that they had left some food improperly stowed at their campsite. Getting permission from Jack’s parents, Jack and Ben headed out in the dusk to collect their food. When they were almost finished, Ben looked up at the trees.

“Look at that,” Ben pointed to a blue flashing in the leaves overhead.

“Cops,” said Jack. Their eyes followed the light back to its source a few doors down.

The boys dropped their food at the back door and crept around the side of the house to get a better look. Down the block and across a side street, four police cruisers were parked around Mr. Anderson’s house. He was an older man who lived next to the Vigues. Jack crept a bit closer in time to see the police leading Mr. Anderson out of his house and towards a police car.

The Vigues came out of their house and looked on for a moment before Mr. Vigue ran towards his handcuffed neighbor.

“You sick fuck — I’ll kill you,” Mr. Vigue screamed as he ran towards Mr. Anderson. Police quickly restrained Mr. Vigue and attempted to lead him back to his own house. Other officers were setting up yellow tape around Anderson’s house and a state police vehicle, a big van, pulled up in front.

Ben came up behind, and Jack nearly jumped over the bush he was hiding behind.

“What are they doing? What did that guy do?” asked Ben.

“That was Mr. Anderson they’re driving off with. The mad guy was Mr. Vigue — Gabe’s dad,” replied Jack.

“You think that was about Gabe? Wow, must have been,” said Ben.

“I don’t know. Could be,” said Jack. He couldn’t take his eyes off the white-suited police donning gear from the big van. Three of them, with coveralls and masks made their way with big white cases towards Anderson’s house.

“Totally cool,” said Ben.

“Okay boys, back inside.” They both jumped at the sound of Jack’s father.

“Jeez Dad, you scared us to death!” said Jack.

“Just go up to your room, and quit sneaking around.”

“Okay, but why did they take away Mr. Anderson?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know, son, but I’m sure the police have the matter under control,” said his father.

Jack and Ben went back around the house, grabbed their food, and went back in the house. Back upstairs, they stretched out on Jack’s bed and watched through the side window. They could see the Vigue house — every light was on and several figures moved around inside. They couldn’t get a clear look at Anderson’s place though — it was dark in comparison with all the bright lights from Vigue’s house and the police cars.