The Wildman (14 page)

“
Gonna be a chilly day,” Mike said as he placed his hands on his hips and surveyed the expanse of water. “Glad it never got this cold when we were campers.”

Tyler sniffed. “Oh, I remember nearly freezing my ass off some nights.”

“
I never got cold,” Mike said.

“
That’s because you used to take the extra blankets off everyone’s bunks and use them,” Fred said

Mike ignored him as he looked up and down the beach. There was a curious look on his face, almost as if he was expecting to see someone else.

“
So the docks and swimming area were over there, right?” He pointed to the stretch of sand about a hundred yards down the beach from the dining hall. He sighed and shook his head. “It’s funny how it still looks exactly the same, isn’t it?”

“
But smaller,” Tyler said. “Everything looks a lot closer than I remember.”

“
Maybe, but I mean—all the trees, even the underbrush looks exactly like it did back then. I wouldn’t be surprised to see kids, running around, jumping into the water.”

“
Not in this weather,” Jeff said. “You couldn’t pay me enough to go swimming.”

Evan snorted. “You would if you had to.”

Still lazily scrubbing the pan, Jeff turned and eyed his friend. Once again, he had a little twinge of suspicion about Evan. He wished he would stop feeling this way.

“
Well,” Jeff said with a smile, “I’m just glad I don’t have to.”

“
I wish we’d thought to bring canoes or kayaks,” Fred said. “It’d be cool to paddle out around the island and check it out.”

“
We can use the motor boat,” Tyler suggested. He turned to Evan. “What do you say we take a little cruise later today and check things out? After all, you
are
trying to get us to buy into your development, aren’t you?”

For an instant, Evan looked at them with a strange, distracted expression on his face as if he didn’t quite understand the question. Then he smiled and said, “Of course I am, but this isn’t a sales weekend. We’re just here to have fun.”

“
Yeah … right,” Mike said with a sniffing laugh.

“
No. Seriously.” Evan looked like he was getting angry. “I mean, once the project gets going and all—sure, if any of you guys want to buy in, I’d be more than happy to work something out, but that’s not the point of us being here this weekend.”

“
It’s not?” Jeff said. “Then wh
at
is
the point?”

His voice cut the morning stillness l
ike the crack of a whip, making all of his friends turn and look at him as if he’d said the exact wrong thing. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, he wished he could think of some witty rejoinder, but everyone seemed to have caught the sharp note of accusation in his voice.

“
The point …?” Evan echoed, rubbing his chin as he looked first at Jeff and then shifted his gaze out over the water. “The point is to reconnect with old friends. To think about the summers we spend here. For me, at least, they were probably the best times of my life.”

“
Amen to that,” Mike said.

“
I’ve always felt a special attachment to this place. That’s why, when it came up on the market, I snapped it up as soon as I could.”

“
For old time’s sake?” Tyler said, sounding a bit doubtful himself.

“
Yeah. For old time’s sake.” Evan turned and eyed them, one by one. “And that’s th
e
only
reason I dragged your sorry asses out here. So we could remember the fun times we had as kids.”

There was a chorus of murmured agreement, but Jeff couldn’t ignore the irksome feeling inside him, telling him no matter
what
Evan did or said, there was something else … some other motive just below the surface. He stood up, the heavy frying pan in his hand, weighing down one side of his body.

Jesus … forget about it … will you?
he told himself.
Relax and enjoy the weekend.

* * *

They spend the rest of the morning wandering around the campgrounds as a group, reminiscing about which buildings were where, and where the tents had been pitched, and all the things they had done as campers. Jeff was surprised by some of the memories the others had. Evan didn’t say much, but some events that were significant to Tyler or Mike or Fred were things Jeff barely remembered if at all.

When they approached the old baseball field, which was now choked with underbrush and scrawny swamp maples, Mike couldn’t stop exclaiming about how small the area looked to him now. The maples had already lost their leaves, so they had a fairly good view of the expanse of the field.

“
Come on,” he said, looking around in utter amazement with his mouth hanging open. “This
can’t
p
ossibly be it. It was so much bigger.”

“
No,” Jeff said. “You were a lot smaller.”

“
I know that,” Mike said, rubbing the sagging bulge of his belly, “but—come on. Look at this! The service road’s still over there.” He pointed to the remains of an old road that wound through the woods toward where their tents used to be. “And you can still see the path going down to the beach. It went by sheds where we kept the sports equipment. And there’s the brook out in center field. It’s still there.” He sighed and shook his head as though deeply saddened. “But how th
e
hell
did we ever play baseball on such a tiny field?”

“
Like I said … you … we all were a lot smaller back then.” Jeff was suddenly convinced Mike’s weight was an issue for him. He didn’t want to say anything that might hurt his feelings, so he quickly tried to change the subject. “Remember how you used to belt the ball into the woods just about every time you were at bat?”

“
I can’t remember how many times I played centerfield and would have to fish the ball out of the brook,” Fred said.

“
I did have a pretty good swing, didn’t I?” Mike smiled, looking satisfied with the memory.

But it wasn’t all good memories.

When they started down the old dirt road, heading toward the tent sites, Fred started bitching about how they used to have “quiet time” where they spent the hour after lunch in their tent before they could go swimming or out to play ball. This was when they were supposed to take naps or write letters home or read quietly. Jeff used to read
Mad
magazine during rest hour. One thing they all agreed on was that rest hour was the most boring part of their day.

“
That whole thing about waiting an hour before swimming. That’s bullshit, you know,” Mike said. “The counselors just did that so they could have some free time instead of watching us.”

“
Can’t say as I blame them?” Tyler said. “I mean—think about it. We must have been one helluva handful for them. None of them were much older than us. How old do you think Mark was?”

“
I did the math when I read his obituary,” Evan said with a curiously flat tone in his voice. “When he died, the newspaper said he was twenty-nine years old, so he would have been nineteen years old the last summer we were here.”

“
Twenty-nine.” Mike whistled as he lowered his head and shook it. “Jesus, man. It’s just so weird to think a guy as cool as Mark is dead.”

“
He died so young,” Fred said.

“
We always looked up to him,” Tyler added.

“
I sure as hell didn’t,” Evan said. There was a sudden sharp bitterness in his voice that gave everyone pause. He bent down and picked up a dead branch and, gripping it tightly, swatted at the branches that lined the road. “I always thought he was kind of an asshole.”

“
No way,” Jeff said, and simultaneously Tyler said, “Really?”

“
Yeah. Really,” Evan swatted dead leaves off a nearby branch. “Especially after my—after Jimmy died. I thought he—”

Before he went on, he caught himself and, taking a breath, looked back and forth at his friends while shaking his head. He was biting down on his lower lip as though struggling to stop himself from saying more.

“
What the hell did Mark have to do with Jimmy dying?” Tyler asked, obviously not wanting to let it drop. “He was just as freaked out as the rest of us.”

When Evan turned his head quickly and glared at Tyler, Jeff caught the flash of rage in his eyes. For a split second, he was afraid Evan was going to whack Tyler with his stick.

“
I dunno,” Evan finally said. He sounded calmer, but Jeff had the impression it was forced. “I mean—he was our goddamned counselor, wasn’t he? That means Jimmy and all of us w
ere
his
responsibility. Right?”

“Well … yeah. Sure,” Tyler said with a shrug. “But I don’t see where—”

“But
nothing!
” Evan’s anger boiled
up, making his face flush so he looked like he had a sunburn. He gripped the branch he was holding so tightly his knuckles turned bone-white, and his arm started to tremble.

Evan took a quick, noisy breath and, obviously aware that his outburst had surprised his friends, tried to get control of himself. “I … my whole life, I’ve blamed him for what happened,” he said. “That … that’s all.”

“
Not directly, I hope,” Mike said.

The road narrowed until it was just a path, and they started walking in single file with Mike in the lead. He had to turn and look back at Evan, who was walking between Fred and Tyler with Jeff bringing up the rear.

Evan started to say something else, but whatever it was, he couldn’t get it out. The only sounds were the snap of branches underfoot and, off in the distance, the solitary cry of a blue jay. Finally, Evan said, “Okay. Maybe no
t
directly.
But
someone
sure killed him.”

Fred stopped short in his tracks, turned, and faced Evan, openly sneering now as he shook his head.

“
There’s no way,” he said. “No on
e
killed
Jimmy. ’Least not the way I heard it. My parents said Jimmy drowned.”

Everyone else had stopped, and Evan regarded Fred with a long, cold, unnerving stare.

“
Then what was all this stuff about his throat being slit?” Evan turned to face Jeff. In a flash, he pointed his stick at Jeff and said, “You saw it, Jeff. Right?” His voice was low, and it quavered.

Flummoxed by the sudden accusation, all Jeff could do was shrug.

Why was Evan getting so upset about what had happened to Jimmy?

Jeff wished again that he had declined Evan’s invitation to come out here this weekend. Digging up old shit like this just wasn’t healthy for any of them.

“
Well …?” Evan said, all but leering at Jeff. He was still pointing the branch at him, and when he took a few steps closer, Jeff cringed, convinced he was going to whack him with it.

“
To tell the God’s honest truth,” Jeff finally said, his voice quavering, “I have no id
ea
what
I
saw. All I know is, I was scared out of my goddamned mind.”

“
But you said—” Evan’s voice cracked with barely repressed rage. “You said in the tent that night his throat was cut right across the windpipe.”

“
I said that?”

Jeff squinted and shook his head as though he was having trouble remembering. He wished the conversation hadn’t taken this turn, but somehow it seemed inevitable, as if this was what the whole weekend was really all about.

“
You know, I honestly don’t remember telling anyone that.”

“
I don’t see how you could remember anything,” Tyler said. “You were probably traumatized, seeing one of your friends dead. Did you ever have to see a shrink about it?”

Jeff regarded him steadily for a second or two and then shook his head, grateful to see a trace of sympathy in Tyler’s expression.

“
No,” he finally said, “but I was freaked out. It was the first time I ever saw a dead person.” As the image rose in his mind, it took a great effort to keep his voice from cracking. “I was pretty scared.”

“
But that … that’s not the fucking point,” Evan said in a low, trembling voice. Jeff shied away from him, still wondering if he was going to take a whack at him with the stick. “The point is, Jimmy died, and
someone
h
ad to be responsible for it.” He took a sharp, whistling breath. “All I’m just saying is, I still blame Mark Bloomberg for what happened.”

“
Well … I dunno,” Tyler said, pursing his lip like he was about to whistle. “Maybe it was, you know—like everyone said—just an accident.”

Tiny flecks of foam dotted Evan’s lips, and his eyes were wide and bloodshot. Sunlight coming through bare branches overhead cast stripes of light and shadow across his face. Veins pulsed in his neck, and Jeff was suddenly worried that his friend might be having a seizure or stroke or something. The last thing he wanted was to have to make an emergency trip to the mainland to the emergency room. He wished they could just continue their walk and be quiet for a while, but when he looked down the trail and saw the old infirmary, the memory of his late night walk out here last night only ratcheted up the tension inside him. He wished they would turn around and go back the way they had come, but Mike—still in the lead—was already walking straight toward the infirmary.