The Wildman (17 page)

“
When’d you ever come down here?” Fred asked, leaning close so he could be heard. He held his hand out to Jeff for the rum bottle. When Jeff gave it to him, he took a quick sip and passed it to Mike.

“
Mark and I used to come out here,” Mike said.

A disturbing thought occurred to Jeff, but he didn’t voice it. In all his years at Camp Tapiola, he had never heard about going fishing at “The Pulpit.” It struck him as a bit odd that their counselor or any other staff member would take one of the campers out here … alone and unsupervised so far from the campgrounds. Jeff wondered if, even back then, Mike knew he was gay, but had Mark been gay, too?

Had coming out here been Mike’s initiation?

Was that why he remembered the place so fondly?

Jeff pushed such thoughts away, not wanting to speculate about anyone else’s personal life.

“
Gonna be bitchly cold once we come around the point,” Fred said, nodding to where the waves were smashing against “The Pulpit.” The water was much rougher on the windward side of the island. Jeff was tempted to suggest they turn back, but he knew Evan well enough to know he would never turn back. It wasn’t his style. So Jeff tightened his collar around his neck and shrank into himself, bracing for the blast of cold that would hit once they got out of the shelter of the island.

But as they passed within fifty feet of “The Pulpit,” the engine made a funny clunking sound. It kicked once so hard it made the boat shiver and then
sputtered.

“
Fuck!
” Evan shouted, loud enough to be heard by everyone. He revved the engine, but t
he sputtering only got worse. The engine chugged, and the boat lurched so hard everyone was knocked off balance. Jeff would have fallen overboard if he hadn’t been clinging to the gunwales.

“
Shit! What’s the matter?” Fred shouted, but Evan ignored him as he worked the controls. The chugging sound got steadily louder and then, with one last, loud
thunk
,
the engine ceased up and died. There was the sound of metal grinding against metal as a huge cloud of thick, black smoke shot out from under the engine cowling. Then all was silence except for the shrill wind and the steady slapping of waves against the side of the boat.

“
What th
e
fuck?
” Mike said with a scowl.

Evan looked at the
m with a tight, worried expression. His lips were nearly bloodless, and his eyes were glistening and wide.

“
Please don’t tell me the engine just died,” Tyler said, leaning close to Jeff.

“’
Fraid so,” Jeff said. “I thought the way it was smoking the mix was off.”

His grip on the rum bottle tightened, and he watched as the boat, carried by the current, started drifting away from the island. Once it was back in the wind, it came around so the bow was heading into the wind.

“
What the fuck are we gonna do?” Mike asked, sounding angry, but Evan ignored him as he flipped the ignition switch on the engine several times. The only result was a ste
ady
click-click-click
that lasted as long as he held the ignition on.

“
Are we fucked or what?” Fred asked as he looked at the shoreline, which was rapidly receding as the wind carried the boat further out onto the water. The frightened note in his voice made it easy for Jeff to imagine Fred had reverted to a terrified twelve-year-old boy.

Jeff took a quick glance over his shoulder at where they were headed. The mainland looked like it was at least two miles away in the direction they were going. To port and starboard, the shore was much closer, but it didn’t do them much good without an engine.

“
Break out the oars,” Evan said simply.

Jeff noticed the oarlocks on the sides of the boat and the two oars, gray and splintered with age, on the floor underneath their seats. Without a word, he handed the rum to Mike and positioned himself on the center seat. Leaning down, he grabbed the oars and pulled them out. After fumbling the oarlocks into place, he positioned the oars and, gripping them tightly, bent his back and started rowing.

“
You want me to take one of those?” Tyler said, tapping Jeff on the shoulder.

“
I think I … got it,” Jeff said.

It had been a long time since he had rowed a boat, and he was finding it difficult to get a steady rhythm going. With just about every other stroke, one or the other oar would pop out of the oarlock and clatter against the gunwales.

The wind was blowing so hard and steady at his back that it felt like someone was behind him, pushing him with steadily increasing pressure. He didn’t want to look over his shoulder at the island to see how close it was. He knew he’d get discouraged when he saw how far he had to row. The wind was picking up strength, and the clouds were closed in. It wasn’t long before Jeff was tired and started thinking about letting someone else take over, but he doubted even two of them rowing together could make much headway.

“
Think we should … head to … the mainland … and see … if we can find … someone with a … a motorboat who can … bring us … back to the island?” Jeff asked, grunting with every stroke.

“
I doubt anyone’s around this late in the year,” Evan said, shading his eyes with his hand as he scanned the distant shoreline. After a moment, he came forward and pushed Jeff to one side and sat down next to him. Without a word, he took the oar on the starboard side from Jeff, and the two started rowing, synchronizing their strokes. Before long, they developed a steady rhythm.

“
Just like the old days … in the whaling boats … huh?” Evan said, smiling a wide, toothy grin. The wind tousled his hair, and his eyes held a wild, almost crazy light. He looked like he was actually having fun, but Jeff was sure there was no way he co
uld be
enjoying
this.

“More like … galley slaves … in
Ben Hur
,” Jeff replied, bending with each stroke.

“You know … The Romans … never … used slaves to … row their … galleys.”

“Really? … I’ll keep that in mind … next time I’m on
Jeopardy
.”

Jeff was smiling, but not as much as Evan. The truth was, he scolded
himself for not seeing this coming. He’d had a bad feeling about this weekend, and now here they were, adrift on the lake in near-freezing conditions with rain or snow threatening, and no help in sight.

Yeah … Some fun!

But in a way, Jeff felt like a little kid again, too. He and his best friend from summer camp were doing something together that was fun and adventuresome and dangerous and—yes, maybe even a little crazy, but wasn’t that part of the fun? It was the kind of thing they would laugh their asses off about once it was over.

But it wasn’t over yet.

Before Jeff allowed himself to enjoy it too much, something else occurred to him that deflated any sense of fun or adventure.

What about tomorrow … when we’re all packed up and ready to leave? … How are we gonna get off the island if the goddamned motorboat’s defunct?

In spite of the cold wind, sweat ringed his neck and shoulders, tickling as it ran down his sides from his armpits. His shoulders and arms were going to be screaming with pain once this was over, but—just like when they were kids—he and Evan were the leaders of the group. They were the ones everyone depended on. He may not see it in their eyes now, but he knew Tyler, Fred, and Mike were counting on them to bring them safely to shore.

“
Man! … This is a bitch!” Evan shouted as he leaned into it, grunting with each stroke. His good humor was replaced by grimness as the seriousness of their situation sank in.

“
Piece of … cake,” Jeff said, but he was also beginning to lose hope.

How humiliating was this going to be if they had to put in to shore and then walk however far to find someone who could help them get back out to the island?

“
How we … doing?” Evan asked, not looking up as he rowed.

From the bow of the boat, Tyler shouted, “You’re doing great. We’re gaining on it.”

What you mean ‘we,’ Kimosabe?
Jeff thought.

Evan shot Jeff a look he found impossible to read. His eyes still held a glow of childlike amusement, but his mouth was set in one of th
e grimmest smiles Jeff had ever seen. He tried not to think about what Evan might be thinking as he put all his strength into rowing.

“
If the water was any warmer, I’d dive in and pull the boat in,” Mike said, but Jeff scowled and shook his head. There was no way even someone as strong as Mike would be able to challenge this headwind.

“
Fuck it!” Jeff suddenly shouted when his oar popped out of the oarlock and clattered against the side of the boat. He was pulling back hard and ended up punching himself in the gut hard enough to know the wind out of him. As he was repositioning the oar, he saw the watery swelling on the palm of his hand—the beginnings of a blister that would probably be the least of what he would suffer from this.

If only he had stayed back at the camp and let everyone else go for their little ride.

Maybe the extra weight of so many people on the boat had strained the motor and made it conk out.

But this was no time for recriminations or to stew about what he should or shouldn’t have done. He had to bend his back into the rowing and get himself and his friends out of this jam. Then he could deal with blisters and aching bones and muscles.

“
Wanna another swig?” Mike asked as he held the rum bottle out to Jeff.

Jeff nodded, and Mike shifted forward so he was kneeling in front of Jeff where he could hold the bottle up to his mouth and pour some in.

Jeff’s eyes started watering all the more as the rum exploded in his mouth, warming his throat and belly
.
That
w
as something they wouldn’t have had if this had happened when they were kids. With the alcohol warming him, he redoubled his efforts. He purposely didn’t pay any attention to how close they were to the island. He just kept rowing as if it was the only thing he knew. By now he and Evan had developed a steady rhythm. The boat cut through the water almost as swiftly as if it had a motor.

Without warning, the wind blowing at Jeff’s back cut off so abruptly it was as if someone had turned off a huge fan that was blowing across the lake. It the sudden calm, Jeff knew they had to be close to shore. He hadn’t realized how fast they had been rowing, but he didn’t break the pace he and Evan had developed.

“
We’re in the … lee of … the island,” Evan said, grunting with each stroke. Whatever anger or concern had clouded his face before, it was gone now, replaced by that sappy grin of his as he glanced at Jeff.

Without speaking a word, they let up and rowed easily. The boat skimmed across the unruffled surface of the water where long, wavering reflections of dark pines rippled on the surface like huge spikes. Jeff sighed with relief when he looked over the side and saw the rocky lake bottom.

I can’t fucking believe we made it,
he thought, and with that thought came the deep muscle aches he knew would come. He stopped rowing and got up fro
m the seat, letting the oar clatter onto the floor. Keeping one hand on the gunwales, he made his way to the stern of the boat and sat down.

“
Someone else can row,” he said as he took the rum bottle from Mike and took a huge gulp. The alcohol hadn’t started to affect him yet, but this swig sent his head reeling.

Evan stopped rowing shortly after Jeff did and, leaning back, groaned.

“
M
other
fucker
that was a bitch!” he said as he held his hand out to Jeff for the bottle.

Mike and Tyler took their places at the oars and began rowing. It took them a while to develop any kind of rhythm. In spite of himself, Jeff couldn’t help but feel resentful that they got to row on the calmer part of the lake, once they were safely out of the wind.

They passed “The Pulpit” and, hugging close to shore, made their way back to the beach in front of the dining hall. By the time the keel hissed up onto the sand, Jeff’s muscles were screaming with agony. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost two o’clock. After not sleeping much—if at all—last night, he was going to need a nap.

And that, he thought, might work in his favor because even after the boat ride, he was determined to find a way to get away from everyone else and investigate the old infirmary.

If only the plumbing was working and he could take a long, hot shower. That would minimize the pains he was going to feel from such unaccustomed exercise. He noticed that the rum bottle was empty and threw it into the woods, where it frightened a squirrel who scampered away with a shrill warning cry.

He had things to do, but first … first, he needed some rest.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Idle Chatter

When Jeff awoke a few hours later, he didn’t feel much better, but he was surprised that his shoulders and back hadn’t cramped up. A slight jab of pain tightened the base of his neck, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d expected. His head was still a little buzzed from the rum.