The Wildman (8 page)

With the cold wind tearing at his face, making tears stream from his eyes, Jeff stared straight ahead and watched as they approached the camp. A flood of memories swept through him as he scanned the shore from left to right. It struck him as funny how the horizon hadn’t changed a bit after all in these years. There were the same sloping hills to the west and the same towering pines.

Some things never change,
he thought,
or, if they do, it’s at a pace too slow for anyone to notice.

Further out on the lake, the water was a lot choppier. It banged the bottom of the boat hard enough to rattle Jeff’s teeth, but he kept his jaw clenched tightly. It wasn’t long before the chill worked its way into his bones.

When they were more than halfway to the island, Evan said something that Jeff couldn’t hear above the roaring engine. Turning around and leaning closer, he shouted,
“
What’s that?
”

Evan smiled and, with a wave of one hand, indicated the shoreline to the right.

“
This will all change soon,” he shouted. “This coming spring, we’ll break ground for the first houses and condos. Eventually, we’ll have tennis courts and a swimming pool.”

“
Why do you need a swimming pool when the lake’s right here?” Jeff shouted.

Evan either didn’t hear him or else was ignoring him, so Jeff smiled and nodded as if what Evan had said was a terrific thing. The truth was, he couldn’t deny a surge of sadness and even a bit of anger at Evan for everything that was going to be lost once the construction crews came in and started altering the landscape.

It was foolish, he knew, to feel so protective about a place he hadn’t bothered to visit in the last thirty-five years. If it meant so much to him, why hadn’t he come out here to have a look around? It wasn’t all that far from Westbrook—a day trip, easily.

Regardless, his childhood memories were so tied up with this lake and the camp and the land around it that he was convinced what Evan was planning wasn’t such a good idea.

“
You ought to think about investing out here,” Evan shouted.

He had to say it twice before Jeff made out what he said, but Jeff just smiled and shrugged.

Here comes the sales pitch already …

He had seen it coming.

Living in Portland and working in real estate, he had knew all about Willow Creek’s plans for the Lake Onwego area. He had also seen on the news that some of the locals and some environmentalists weren’t so enamored with the plans. Since the project had first been announced three years ago, it had gotten tangled up in court with assorted land disputes. For the last year or so, there had been several instances of vandalism where the Willow Creek offices had been broken into and ransacked. Last spring, someone had tried to burn down the main office building, and many of the signs advertising the project in the area had been defaced with paint-ball shots and, in a few cases, shotgun blasts.

“
Be a nice way to ensure you have a good retirement,” Evan shouted, but Jeff shrugged again, pretending he couldn’t hear him.

He turned and stared out over the churning gray water. Just like when he was a kid, it seemed to take forever to get to the island, and the closer they got, the more anticipation built up inside him. The pines were darkening, casting long shadows across the water now that the sun had dropped behind the mountains. The strip of sandy beach in front of the dining hall and what used to be the swimming area—

Where Jimmy drowned … was murdered!

—
showed up like a white slash against the dark backdrop. Thirty or so feet up from the beach was the dining hall. When he saw it, Jeff couldn’t ignore the cold lump that formed in his throat.

“
Amazing, huh?” Evan called out as he cut the engine and brought the boat around so he was heading into the small cove where the swimming docks used to be.

Once they were out of the direct wind, Jeff tilted his head back and inhaled the aroma of the pines. The smell instantly brought back another rush of memories. It was all too easy to imagine he was a kid again who was arriving for a two-week stay at the camp. If it had been a little warmer and if there had been leaves on the trees, the illusion would have been complete.

But there was something else hanging in the air.

Something unsettling … maybe even menacing.

Jeff had no idea how he knew it was there, but he sensed a palpable presence hovering close to him in the gathering gloom. His eyes widened as they darted back and forth, scanning the cleared areas where the other buildings—the cabins and tent platforms and the old meeting hall—used to be. But his eyes were continually drawn back to the woods where deeper shadows lurked. The feeling of a presence lurking in the woods was overpowering.

Jeff’s reverie was broken when the front door of the dining hall swung open, and three figures came out onto the porch and then started down the short flight of steps leading to the beach. Jeff raised his right arm in greeting, and the three men, now on the beach, waved back to him. He knew they were Tyler Smith, Fred Bowen, and Mike Logan, but in the deepening gloom, he had no idea who was who.

“
Ahoy there, captain,” a thin, dark-haired man who looked trim and physically fit called out.

Evan cut the engine, and the boat glided up onto the beach with a soft crunching whisper of sand and pebbles against the keel. It came to a sudden stop that jolted Jeff and would have thrown him forward if he hadn’t been keeping a grip with his left hand on the gunwales.

The thin, dark-haired man waded out into the water and grabbed the bow of the boat. Leaning back, he dragged the boat further up onto the sand.

“
Well I’ll be a son of a bitch,” the man said, smiling as he regarded Jeff. “I never thought in a million years you’d really make it.”

“
And here I am.” Jeff said as he stood up, caught his balance, and then took the man’s proffered hand and shook it. “How’s it going, Tyler?”

Tyler had a good grip, firm and dry.

“’
S gonna be one helluva weekend,” Tyler said, his smile widening as he stood back and let Jeff clamber out of the boat and onto the beach.

Jeff didn’t realize how tense he had been on the boat ride over until he was on solid land again and stretched to his full height. Hard knots tightened in his back and between his shoulder blades. He groaned as he leaned back and pressed his fist into the small of his back.

“
Apparently I’m getting old just like the rest of you reprobates.”

Everyone laughed at that as Fred and Mike approached the boat. Jeff’s assumption had been right. The fat guy was Fred. The scrawny kid he had once been was all but unrecognizable beneath his fleshy adult features, but there was a youthful glint in his eye that indicated the old Fred was still in there somewhere. Mike had gained considerable weight, too, but his bulk looked more muscular than fat. He had a crushing grip when he and Jeff shook hands.

“
Jesus H Christ,” Mike said. “I hardly recognize yah.”

Jeff sniffed with laughter, knowing if he had passed any of these men on the street, he would have walked past them without giving them a second glance. It was strange to think how these men—total strangers now—had once been his best friends, at least for two weeks every summer.

“
Looks like you brought enough shit to last a week,” Fred said, glancing at Evan, who was already unloading the boat, piling Jeff’s things up on the sand.

“
You never know,” Jeff said with a chuckle. “We might get stranded here for days, if the weather forecast is right.”

“
How’s that?” Fred asked, a look of concern in his eyes. “What’d you hear?”

“
Storm might be moving in later this weekend,” Jeff said. Realizing he didn’t want to start the weekend off on a bad note, he added, “But I doubt it’ll be much. If it is, you’ll be grateful I brought as much stuff as I did.”

“
Long as you got plenty of beer,” Mike said.

The bag Evan had just put down on the sand made a loud clinking sound, obviously bottles, and Mike’s face brightened.

“
Come on, you slugs,” Evan said once the boat was empty. “Let’s get this up into the dining hall.”

“
So that’s where we’re staying?” Jeff asked.

“
Unless you want to sleep out under the stars.”

“
We got here early,” Tyler said, “so we’re already set up. I hope you brought a pad like one of them egg shell thingies or something for your sleeping bag, because that floor’s gonna be hard as hell otherwise.”

“
It sure hasn’t gotten any softer over the years,” Mike said with a chuckle. He made a point of grabbing more stuff than anyone else and started back to the dining hall.

“
Remember that night we missed the overnight because it was raining?” Fred said. “’N we ‘camped out’ in the dining hall and cooked S’mores?”

“
How could I forget?” Jeff said.

With everyone helping, it only took them one trip to get all of Jeff’s stuff and supplies off the beach. They deposited it in the semi-circle of everyone else’s luggage and supplies. As he went about organizing his things, Jeff couldn’t get past the sense of total unreality that was gripping him.

Who are these people … and what the hell am I doing here?
he kept asking himself.

The sky was already pitch black when they went back out to the beach so Evan could secure the boat for the night. It was much colder, too, but Jeff stopped and looked around at the old campgrounds, lit only by the stars and the wandering beams of their flashlights.

It seemed like a dream. He felt completely dissociated from himself, and he couldn’t help but question who he really was and reflect on everything he had been so stressed out about lately. Everything seemed so far away now. It was like his life up until this instant had happened to someone else, and—finally—he was back where he truly belonged.

All in all, no matter how creeped out he might feel about being here with these people, this was definitely going to be one
hell
of an interesting weekend.

CHAPTER FOUR

Hobomock

Logs crackled, and firelight cast a warm orange glow that filled the dining hall all the way up to the shadowed rafters where thick, dark cobwebs hung down like splashes of black ink. The shadows shifted crazily, and as Jeff eased back on his sleeping bag with drink in hand, he couldn’t help but wonder how many bats or mice or
something
else were up there, scuttling around to avoid the light.

There was no electrical service on the island yet. It had been cut off years ago and hadn’t been restored. Evan said he had to get the power back on in the spring, once construction started. Other than a handful of candles he had brought and the flashlights they all remembered to pack, the fire in the fireplace was their only source of light through the night. Evan promised, once the development got going, there would be cable TV and a microwave tower for cell phone service. It wouldn’t be long before Sheep’s Head Island and Camp Tapiola had all the amenities of civilization.

“
Do we have a working toilet?” Jeff asked.

“
A two-seater,” Evan said.

There was a bathroom at the end of the short hallway, but it had obviously been out of order for decades. Jeff had poked his head in just long enough to determine that the room was off limits for the duration.

“
There’s a Port-a-Potty just outside the side door,” Evan said. He sounded a bit defensive, as if he didn’t like Jeff or anyone criticizing his accommodations. “What more do you want?”

“
How about a place to take a dump without freezing my goddamned ass off?” Jeff said. He and everyone else except Evan laughed at that. For now, though, the men would have to make do with the primitive resources they had.

And make do they did.

After Jeff was settled and everyone was plying a drink, the men cobbled together a more than passable supper of hot dogs, baked beans, brown bread, and fresh salad, which Fred had brought. The only refrigeration they had was the coolers they brought, but as long as there was beer and wine ... plenty of beer and wine … they’d be set. Mike had brought a box of twenty Cuban cigars just for the occasion, and everyone except Evan lit up after supper. Dense clouds of blue smoke rose into the darkness above them as they eased back and talked. After thirty-five years, there was plenty to catch up on.

Jeff already knew that Evan was married, had two kids, and lived in Medford, Mass., but he didn’t learn a whole lot more about Evan’s real estate development business. Truth was, he was grateful Evan didn’t try any more hard sell on them, but he was sure the pitch to invest would come before the weekend was out. Evan had to be using this weekend as a tax write-off.

Jeff learned that Fred had been married and divorced twice and was no longer looking for a woman to be a part of his life. After Jeff dropped his line about if he buying a woman he hated a house and car, he let Fred tell them about his job as manager of the water filtration plant in the small town in Vermont. Jeff noticed that Fred didn’t talk much about his personal life, but that was fine with him. He remembered Fred as being—maybe not shy, but at least reluctant to talk about his feelings.

Mike let everyone know that he had never gotten married and was still single, living with his aging mother to help her out. After Tyler expressed surprise that Mike had never found the right person, Jeff was convinced that the suspicion he’d had about Mike back when they were campers might be correct. Mike was gay, and he was doing a damned good job of covering it up.