Aric Davis - The Fort

“Or he kidnapped a girl and got shot for his trouble,” said Tim. “We all knew there was a strong possibility that we were going to know the guy who did this. Now it looks like we do, or at least Scott does.”

Scott was nodding his head, still holding the top of it, and looking like he might puke.

“So what are we going to do?” Tim asked.

“I’m going to go there tomorrow and knock on the door,” said Luke. “When he opens it, I’ll know if it’s him from how his leg looks.”

“Are you nuts?” Tim asked. “What are you going to say? He’s probably not going to like getting bugged.”

“I’ll just tell him I’m running a lawn service, and if he wants his cut by a kid looking to make a little bit of money, I’ll do it for $2.50 on a date of his choosing.”

“That could work,” said Tim. “It’s really not a bad idea at all. The mowing thing isn’t either. I bet people would for real pay us for that, and we could make some bucks.”

“Let’s figure this out first,” said Luke with a grin. “You two are still under house arrest, no way are your parents going to let you out to go make money. Shit, with all the luck we’ve had lately, they’d probably make you go do it for free, as, like, a community service or something.”

“What if it really is him?” Scott asked quietly. “What if it is Hooper and he just, like, grabs you or something?”

“Easy,” said Luke. “I take Carl’s gun. If he grabbed me, I really doubt that he’d search me, then I’d just blast him when he turned around. No one would think a kid was coming armed, not even a really crazy person.”

“I need to get this back,” said Scott, staring down at the gun in his hand, then up at Luke. “You have to promise to bring it back, like, for real promise. If you don’t, I’m going to be grounded forever.”

“Scott,” said Luke. “Of course I’ll bring it back. I don’t need it for anything except this. Besides, all that’s going to happen is he’s going to open that door and say no to the lawn mowing. I’ll get a look at his leg, and that will be that. We meet up here tomorrow night, I tell you what I saw, and maybe this whole thing is almost done.”

“All right,” said Scott. He held it out, butt first, to Luke, who took it. It felt somehow heavier in his hand than it had before. “Just be careful with it,” Scott said. “Don’t shoot yourself or anything.”

“I won’t,” said Luke. “I’m not a complete moron. Though some people might question my choice of friends.”

“No jokes,” said Tim. “Not now. We meet here tomorrow, same time?”

“Same time,” said Luke. “Unless I save Molly tomorrow.” He grinned. “Then you guys can see me on the news, and maybe we can hang out again.”

48

Tim slipped through the woods, gliding on exhausted legs through the trees. It was odd how the woods had once been so terrifying at night but now were amazing. It was the only place where he felt like himself after everything that had happened. He felt free there, like the world really held possibilities. It was a nice feeling, especially with the patio, the policemen and parents who thought you were a liar looking for attention, and the tyranny and ever-looming danger of the upcoming school year. The woods at night were a peace away from that, in a way that almost didn’t make sense. If anything, after he’d seen the man with Molly, the woods should have been terrifying, and the fort less than a fort. If anything, it had had the opposite effect. Tim didn’t know what growing up was going to be like, but if it was anything like the freedom of walking alone through a forest, able to do whatever he wanted, it was going to be great. An invisible owl hooted from some impossible perch, and Tim walked home.

He slipped silently across his own lawn and shimmied his body up the window and into the house, much like he would enter the fort off of the ladder. Also like at the fort, Tim found arms pulling him into the house. Unlike the arms of his friends, these were adult, and much more powerful. The light flashed on, and Tim saw that his parents were in his room and his dad was holding him.

“I can explain,” said Tim, and in answer, his mom crossed the room and slapped him. The noise of it was more air rifle than .22, and the surprise of it shocked him more than the pain did. His dad released him, and Tim slumped to the floor. Tears ran down Tim’s face, and he made no effort to stop them. He was emotionally ruined, and this was the last straw.

“Tammy, we talked about this,” said Stan. “We never wanted to hit either one of them, no matter what they did. Every kid makes mistakes. Hopefully Tim will learn from this.”

“I hit him for his own good,” spat Tammy. “Nothing else works, so why not give it a try? Tim, if ever there was any proof of what a little liar you are, this is it. If you’d actually seen any adult in those woods doing what you said, you never would have gone back there.” She paused to catch her breath, and Tim just stared at the floor, the shock of it still settling in. “In case you were wondering, Scott knocked over a table in his room when he came home, and Beth had the good sense to call me. I called Luke’s house, but his mom must have slept through the ringer. I don’t know what we’re going to do, though. You lie, you make up stories—”

“We’re going to have a family meeting and discuss this in the morning,” said Stan. “We talked about that a few minutes ago, if you recall, Tammy. Tim, get some sleep. We’re going to try.”

Tim’s mom left the room as he got into bed. His dad paused at the door and put his finger on the light switch. “I can explain,” said Tim. “I can make it all make sense.”

“No you can’t,” said Stan as he shut off the light. He paused there in the doorway. “To think I almost believed you.”

Somehow, that was a thousand times worse than being slapped by his mom.

49

Hooper woke with the sun. He had barely any memories of what had happened the day before, other than being fairly certain that somehow he had survived a VC mortar attack. I’m shell-shocked, that’s what it is. Clad in only a towel, Hooper dragged his dead leg behind him, not sure if it was better or worse that the pain was still gone.

Once he was in his room, the thought came to him that there was something he needed to do, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He came in to dress, though, so he did that. Underwear first, then fatigues. He dropped the revolver in his pocket and then strapped the .45 in its holster to his chest. The pants were so tight on his right leg that the pressure caused his wounded leg to thrum, bringing a dull sensation that was almost pain to it. Hooper used his KA-BAR to split the pants down the shin, from just above his knee to the bottom of the cuff, and the pain and the pressure went away.

Why am I doing this, why am I getting dressed?

Hooper ran a hand over his forehead. The fever that had broken in the night felt like it was coming back, and swiftly. You’re getting dressed to be ready, in case the VC come or you’re relieved of duty. Hooper wasn’t sure what to think. He knew he was in his house but also that he was back in the shit, back in the Nam. None of it made any sense. It was terrifying to have no idea what he was supposed to be doing.

You need to relax.

Hooper sat back down on the couch. It was stained with blood, his blood. I need to get them before they come for me, before they come to take Amy from me. The thought of Amy was a revelation: once this was all figured out, he needed to go back down there, get her some food and water, and have a conversation. She needed to be told that the VC were in the area, and that even though Charlie was gunning for them, she was going to be safe. If she knew that he was going to help her, she’d probably feel a lot better about everything, might understand why he had to hide her like he was doing. The enemy was everywhere, and she should know that.