Dr. Frank Einstein (5 page)

     
“I don't think you want to do that; the wounds are quite extensive. It's best to rely on memories,”he told them, “We have two suspects.  They have already confessed.  One mother discovered her son had bloody clothes.  She brought him in. The mother told us the other boy who he associated with.  We picked him up.  We had witnesses who saw the two boys with your son as they left the school and were on the highway.”

     
“What? Boys are living with their mothers.”  Said the wife in bewilderment.  She squeezed harder her husband's hand. 

      
“The boys were both nine.”

            “Nine?  How? How are they capable?”

            “This is very rare.  Sometimes teenagers kill out of emotions or peer pressure.  But these boys are by far the youngest in Massachusetts History.  It was a thrill killing.”    He paused for he felt sure the wife was going to have a panic attack.

  
          He continued to speak to them,   “I’m very sorry for your lost.   But don't you worry.  These boys will be placed in the State Hospital. I’m sure they will remain there their entire life. “The couple casted down their eyes.  Their bodies vibrated out of pain.

     
       The detective sweated profusely as he pause his speech.

     
       “There’s no trial.  They confessed. Both mothers told us they wanted the sons to be committed.  This is considered a medical problem. Quite frankly, both mothers are really unfit, and don't want anything to with their sons because of this situation. Really even though we usually have teenagers, children who murder are sent to the State Hospital. There are teenage murderers from the twenties and thirties still committed to the State Hospital today.”

                                                Chapter Nine

      “He was your best friend.” my mother told me. I sat at the dining room table. She went to her small two bed room apartment's kitch
en and poured water in a glass from the tap. I looked at a picture of gods head or something.  This picture and the furniture were thirty year old.  I remembered from my Lake Forest home. The home I lived in after we moved from Wayland.

      I replied to her, “I remembered being told at the time by news reports on TV.  Some boys had stabbed him in the head fifty times
. But I don't remember him. I wonder why I don't remember him.”  Of course she told me that Sly Stallone (who she said was too short to be Sly Stallone), Oliver Stone and a Saudi Prince all had asked her on a date. And that Honey Fritz Fitzgerald had asked my great grandmother to married him before went on to successfully married John Kennedy's grandmother. 
All of which could be true.

      “Well, he was” She assured me.

      I do remembered, when I was six, talking to a stocky, blond boy outside along the street about our excitement about the new T V series Batman. Was that him?

      I had vacationed in New England in Two thousand and four.   I took a side trip to Wayland.

      The
trees were so much thicker than when I lived there. I stopped at the green two story house.

      This is the house I lived in,” I told my wife of fifteen years. “My memories are sort distorted on everything.”

      “You were only seven.” she said to me.

      “I lived here from age
six to nine, “I clarified to her.

      I drove to Happy Hollow School.
   I asked the clerk about the murder.

      “I don't really know about any murder. The last teacher who was teaching in the mid-sixties retired last spring.  She moved away.”

      I went to the police station.  No one who worked there during the time of the murder still worked there. One police officer thought the boy was Mark Dupree.  I looked on the internet and through death records of that era and there was no Mark Dupree.

                                                        Chapter Ten

     My cells lived amongst trees and creatures. Death came to them and I was born.

      I cut across my subdivision on top of the barren hill top.  It was the hill top that I sledded down in winter. I was confronted by two boys my age, eight, and a twelve year old that had mental retardation.

      “Do you want play King of the hill, retard!” Timmy addressed me.

      “No.” I replied to them.   At that the three pelted me with rocks. All of sudden, I put my hand to my head and my hand was filled with blood, I screamed and ran to my house, the green one. I ran to my mother. Blood was pouring down my face.   I could not see anything.

      “What happened?”  My mother asked me.

      “Timmy, Mike and Steve just wanted to throw rocks at me.” My Mom took me to the hospital.  I had seventeen stitches.

      Two days later Timmy's mother showed with a lot of gifts and Timmy. “I'm so sorry what Timmy and those other boys did,” She cried and hugged me.

      “I'm sorry,” apologized Tim with a beat red face.

          
                                            Chapter Eleven

A point-like particle's motion may be described by drawing a graph of its position (in one or two dimensions of space) against time. The resulting picture depicts the world line of the particle (its 'history') in space-time. By analogy, a similar graph depicting the progress of a string as time passes by can be obtained; the string (a one-dimensional object — a small line — by itself) will trace out a surface (a two-dimensional manifold), known as the world sheet. The different string modes (representing different particles, such as photon or graviton) are surface waves on this manifold. Hey like string theory--yeah

         After the Wayland Police Station, I found myself in the hotel room. I fell in a trance that took me to a parallel universe. In this universe my mind said I was Frank Einstein.

     
I appeared in front of Happy Hollow School.  The cars were from the sixties and so were the clothes. Everything looked Bigger.

     
“Hey, ain't that his friend.” Danny declared; glancing over to me.

     
They approached me, a first grader.

     
“Hey, you want to go on a hike with us.  It's to the coolest place.” Tommy suggested to me.

     
“I have to go home, “I replied to them.

     
“Okay, we'll go over to your house.  Then ask your Mom if you can go hiking with us.  Hey, first I got somethin' to show you on the other side of the school. Someone stashed like fifty bucks, and buried it.”

     
“I don't know. I'll miss my bus.”

     
“We take the same bus. We won't miss it. C'mon, you won’t regret it.”

     
They went to the back of the horseshoe shaped school. Tommy led them to spot in a corner. He started digging with a broken piece of wood.  The topsoil felt harden with bits of grass.   Then the under soil lay soft and darker.   He scrapped and scrapped with a hint of insincerity.  After ten minutes he stopped digging.

    
“Man, it ain't here,” exclaimed Tommy, “Somebody must’ve gotten it before us.”  He stood up and tossed the wood.

   
  “I really need to get my bus;” I reiterated to them.

  
    The boys and I raced back to the front of the school to a vacant parking lot.  All of The buses had left school.

 
    “I missed my bus," I moaned at my situation," I gotta call my mom.  She's gonna be mad.”

     
“Don't bother the office.  Everybody there’s gone home now.  My uncle's house is very close.  You can call her from there.”  Recommended Tommy to me.

       “But I think I better call now!”

      “If you keep calling you mom, Soon, everyone's gonna think you are a pain in the ass.  Then they'll blame you for all the things that go wrong around you.   C'mon, it's better to call from my uncle's."

    
They started walking on a two lane highway.  Almost immediately the highway was surrounded by woods.  There were no sidewalks, no buildings.  A steep hill left no room for boys to walk so they walked on the highway.

      Soon a light blue station wagon stopped next to them.  The lady, who was driving, leaned over to the passenger door and rolled
down the window, “Hey boys.  This is a very dangerous road.  You need to go back to school and call your parents.”

    
“Okay” Said Tommy.  The car pulled away.  “Fuckin' bitch.”  Tommy and Danny laughed as they looked me I was confused by them.

    
“Hey, “Tommy changed the subject, “I got something to show ya at the cemetery.  It's just over here.”  We already had gone a mile and half on the dangerous highway.  Cars were constantly whizzing by us.

    
We ran in the small country cemetery with me trying to keep up with them.

      We
fell to their knees at a tombstone.  “Hey, Frank, look at this gravestone Silas Hawkins 1698-1771.   That's my great, great; I don't know how many fuckin' great, grandfathers.  My family's been in Wayland for centuries; when it was all farms and shit.  Now all these rich newbies are crowding up everything and shit.   You're rich, ain't ya?

     
“No.”

     
“Your dad wears suits for one of those big corporations in Boston.”

   
  “I don't know.”

     “All the newbies do, my grandfather sold his farm to make new houses for you all, But don't worry.  Danny and I will make you one of us; so you won't be a rich stuck up newbie, alright?”

    
“I guess.”

   
“Fuckin’ A” He laughed and shook my hand.

   
  They continued their hike.  A mile later they left the highway. They came upon and walked on a path through the woods.

 
     “I thought we're going to your uncle's house to call my mom.” I complained to them.

       “This is how to go to my Unc
le's house. We're almost there.

        “It’s so far.  I shoul
d've called from school.”   

  
     “Hey Frank, do you watch Batman?" ignored Tommy," It’s so cool.  Na Na Na Batman boom bam Na Na Batman! Do you watch on Wednesday night and Thursday night?  Same Bat time: Same Bat station.”

      
“Yeah, I watched it.”

    
  “Did you see when Riddler's girlfriend snuck in to the bat cave and she climbed and fell in the Nuclear reactor.  And Batman tried to rescue her.  She fell and Batman's all crying and shit. And Batman is like; I really want to fuck her.”

          “You certainly say a lot of bad words, “I commented about him.

          “I do it because it's cool.”

          “I think it's dumb.”

          Tommy smirked then stopped at the clearing.  We're gonna play a game.  It's called mumbly peg.  Have you heard of it?”                                  

        
“Naw.”

         “It's so fun.  First we draw a big circle for a target.  Then we throw this switchblade to hit the target.”  Tommy whipped out a
switchblade “You first.  Just throw the knife in the circle.”