D-Boy

by Edward Kendrick

  The top two pages appeared to be a will in which Michael left everything he owned to a shelter for wounded veterans. Like they need a cabin in the middle of nowhere. But still…Derek fingered the wads of bills in the box. That’s a lot of cash for someone who said he’d been living here ‘forever’.

  Next was an official-looking paper titled Honorable Discharge. It was from the United States Marine Corps and the name on it was First Sergeant Michael W Long. It was dated May 8, 1971.

  I wonder if he came here right afterwards. That was twenty-eight years ago if it’s really 1999 now, and he had no reason to lie to me about that.

  He put the discharge paper on top of the will and then looked at the next ones. They were letters, some from Michael’s mother, Derek knew, since she signed them ‘Love, Mom’, and also from a girlfriend from the tone of the others. The last one, according to the dates on them, came to him in 1970. They weren’t in envelopes, so Derek had no idea where Michael was at the time. Putting them aside as well, he picked up a thin, manila envelope.

  He wasn’t quite certain what to make of the contents. There were four crudely handwritten notes. Each one was threatening, but not in any specific way that said what the writer planned to do. Instead they warned ‘Mike’ that his time would come and when it did, he would ‘suffer the consequences’ and other words to that effect.

  “Was whoever sent these the person who killed him?” Derek wondered aloud. “And if it was, should I get out of here before they come back looking for—whatever? For sure it couldn’t have been what’s in the box. I mean it’s a lot of money, I guess, but enough to kill for? And what’s with the gun?”

  He picked it up. It was heavy, as if it would do a lot of damage if he shot it. But what do I know? There was an imprint on the well-worn grip which said ‘lock’, which didn’t make any sense to him. Then he found a second imprint on the barrel and realized it was ‘Glock’, not ‘lock’. He had the feeling it was a pretty powerful gun, though he didn’t know why.

  It didn’t take him long to figure out how to load it. Once he had, he felt somewhat safer. But I’m still not sticking around waiting for someone to come back.

  He stopped long enough to make some herbal tea, using the leaves from one of the tins on the shelf next to the pots and pans. While it steeped, he tried to figure out how he could carry what he needed to take with him. He thought Michael must have had something he used when he made his rare treks into town. Finally he found a battered backpack stuffed away in a dark corner far under Michael’s bed.

  By then he was hungry. He remembered the rabbits he’d gotten yesterday but one look at them, lying on the stoop covered in maggots, and he discarded that idea. There was dried meat on one of the shelves. He cut off a few slices, dropping them in the pot with what was left of the water he’d boiled for tea. Then he went to the garden, intending to pick a squash to add to the meal. The minute he saw Michael’s grave, his eyes filled with tears. Going to it, he knelt at the side, vowing to himself at that moment that he would find whoever had done this to his friend. The only friend he’d had.

  I don’t care if I’m too young—or most people would think I am. I’m going to find the bastard and he’ll wish he’d never set eyes on Michael—or me.

  Chapter 2

  Three weeks later, Derek reached civilization.

  When he left the cabin, he had the clothes on his back and a few pants and shirts that had been Michael’s and then his, in the back pack. He also had the tin box, a flint fire-starter, as much dried meat as he could fit in, and the bow with its quiver of arrows.

  He had no idea where he was when he started out, and thus no idea which way to head. So he decided to keep the sun to his left, which meant he would be heading north. At least it was summer, so he didn’t have to worry about snow or even rain too much, but the nights were still chilly. He made it a habit to look for caves or rocky overhangs to keep him protected while he slept. He put on two or three layers of clothing at night and managed to keep warm enough that way.

  He almost gave up finding any town, sometimes wondering if he was going in circles despite trying to keep track of the sun’s movement. He managed to shoot an occasional rabbit or squirrel and find berries or wild vegetables, so at least he didn’t starve.

  If I’d gone another direction would I have found the highway where the accident took place? Or would I have just gone deeper into the mountains than I seem to be now. There has to be an end to them sometime.

  All these and many other such thoughts went through his mind as he made his way up and down the rocky slopes, crossing the occasional stream or fast-running brook. When he came to one of those, he would stop and try to wash up. He had an empty glass canning jar, which he filled with water, drinking it sparingly, not knowing how long it would be until he found more.

  Finally, late one morning, he came over the crest of yet another steep hill and saw a small town far below him.

  * * * *

  Derek approached the town cautiously. He knew he must look like something out of a bad horror story. His dark hair was long and matted, full of tangles, despite how often he had run his fingers through it. His clothes had been old, if well kept up, even before he’d started out. Now, after living and sleeping in them for the past few weeks, they were dirty and torn in places from run-ins with bramble bushes. The shoes he’d been wearing when Michael had found him were long gone and his deer-skin boots were practically worn through.

  When he reached the bluff above the very edge of the town, he stopped. There was a river cutting through it. Not much of one but wider than any of the streams he’d come across. On each side of it there was a road, with smaller ones leading off them. He saw some houses, a few buildings—mostly shops—and a couple of churches. That was all.

  There were people walking near the shops and a few cars coming and going. At the house closest to him, he saw a man in the yard, working on his garden. Derek inched his way down the bluff until he was at the bottom, a few hundred yards from the man.

  He must have sensed Derek’s presence because he looked up then cocked his head. “You dressed for Halloween, kid? It’s still a couple of months off, you know.”

  Derek shook his head. “No, sir. Can I ask, sir, where I am?”

  The man frowned, coming over to the fence that separated his yard from the trees beyond it where Derek was standing. “You don’t know? This is Barkerstown. Where you from, kid?”

  Derek chewed his lip then pointed behind him. “Up there. Way up there.”

  “There ain’t nothing but mountain and forest back that way for a hundred miles or more.”

  “I know, sir.”

  “You telling me you lived somewhere in them?”

  Derek nodded. “For a while, sir.”

  The man beckoned for him to come closer. “You got a name?”

  “Yes, sir. Derek.”

  “Derek what?”

  “Just Derek, sir.”

  “Okay, just Derek. I’m Nolan. Nolan White.” Nolan looked him over more carefully when Derek moved to the other side of the fence. “Where’s your family? Still back there?”

  “I—” Derek hesitated, wondering how much he should tell Nolan “—I don’t know, Mr. White.”

  “Come on, Derek. They have to be somewhere. Did you run away or something?”

  “No. They…” Derek sighed deeply. “I guess I should be going.”

  “Hang on a minute. You got somewhere to stay here? Is that why you’re here?”

  “No, Mr. White. I just…I was walking, trying to find a town or something and, well…” He spread his hands.

  “You ended up here. You sure you’re not a runaway?”

  “Yes.” Derek turned and started toward the road, figuring he might be safer if he just kept going. He didn’t know how to answer Nolan’s questions without making the man more suspicious than he seemed to be already.

  “What’s wrong with your leg? You hurt it while you were traipsing through the mountain
s?”

  “No, Mr. White. I broke it and it didn’t get set right.”

  “When you were a kid?”

  Derek shrugged.

  “Look, Derek, why don’t you come back here? Come in the yard. You look hungry and beat. I can make you a sandwich, maybe some lemonade. We can talk a while, or not. Your choice.”

  At that point, a woman who looked about the same age as Nolan, which Derek guessed might be forty-something, came out of the house onto the back porch. “Who this?” she asked, looking at Derek.

  “Says his name’s Derek, Janet. Just Derek. Says he’s been living in the mountains.”

  She smiled, coming over to join them. “Must have been for a while from the look of you. Did you get lost up there? People do sometimes.”

  “Umm, yeah.”

  “You as hungry and tired as you look?”

  Derek looked down and nodded. He wasn’t certain this was a good idea, but he was more than hungry and tired of dried meat, which was all he’d eaten for the last two days.

  Nolan went to the gate, swinging it open. “Then come on in. I promise we don’t bite.”

  With a small smile at the man’s joke, Derek went into the yard. Nolan pointed to the swing on the porch, telling him to have a seat. At the same time, his wife went inside again. Derek hesitated before slowly walking the length of the yard and onto the porch steps. He sat on them, saying as he laid the backpack and the bow beside him, “I don’t want to get the swing dirty.”

  “Hell, those pads wash, but if you’re more comfortable where you are, fine,” Nolan replied, coming to sit on the step above him. “So, truth, if you feel like telling me. Why were you living in the mountains? Did you really get lost?”

  Janet came out before Derek could reply, handing him a plate with a large sandwich and a glass of milk. Then she perched on the swing, watching him.

  Derek took a big bite of the sandwich and sighed happily. “This is so good.”

  Janet chuckled. “It’s just ham and cheese.”

  “Yeah, but I haven’t had…” Quickly he took another bite before he said too much.

  “What have you been eating?” she asked with concern.

  “Dried meat. Rabbit, when I could shoot one.” He touched the bow.

  “You must be pretty good with that thing,” Nolan said, with a tinge of admiration in his voice. “Were you bow-hunting when you got lost?”

  Derek nodded. He was beginning to feel guilty about letting them think that’s what had happened. They seemed like nice, caring people. But he didn’t know them, or how they’d react if they knew even a little of the truth. Not that he’d ever tell them about Michael’s murder. There was no way he could explain it. They’d want him to go to the police, he was sure. And what would I tell them. That it happened in a cabin but I don’t even know where it is? Like they’d believe that.

  When he finished the sandwich and the milk, Janet asked if he’d like another one. He shook his head. “I really should get going. I’m sure you have things to do and you don’t need me keeping you from doing them.”

  Nolan put one hand on his shoulder to keep him from getting up. “It’s Sunday. The only thing we were doing was relaxing.”

  Janet piped up, saying, “If you want, I can throw your clothes in the washer so you have something clean to wear. I’ve got the feeling what’s in that backpack has probably been worn more than a few times.”

  “I, umm, washed stuff out in the streams.”

  “With soap?”

  “Well…”

  “Yep, that’s what I thought. Now you give them to me and then just sit here and keep Nolan out of trouble. It won’t take more than an hour at best and I bet you’d like to stay off your feet for a bit if you’ve been walking all this time.”

  Derek had the feeling she wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer so he took out the few pants and shirts he still had, handing them to her. “Thank you,” he said softly.

  “No problem. I’ll be back in a minute or three.”

  When she was gone, Nolan smiled at Derek. “She’ll mother-hen you to death if you let her. Our sons are grown and off in the world and she misses having them around to take care of.” Leaning back again the porch post, he studied Derek again. “Where are you from?”

  Derek took a deep breath. “I…I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? Everyone has a home somewhere, even if they ran away from it. Is that what it is, you ran away and you’re afraid we’ll let someone know?”

  Derek ran a hand through his hair—or tried to. It mainly got stuck in the snarls and he pulled it free, shaking his head in disgust.

  Nolan chuckled. “Maybe a shower’s in order too, once you’ve got some clean clothes. But you didn’t answer my question.”

  “I don’t know because I don’t remember.”

  “Uh-oh. What happened? You take a fall and knock your head or something?”

  Derek nodded. “Not a fall. I…there was a wreck and I got thrown from it and that’s how my leg got broken and someone found me and took care of me until I was okay again and then…” It all spilled out in a jumble until Derek realized if he said anything more he might reveal what had happened to Michael. “And then when I was better, I picked up and left because he wasn’t big on company really, even though he said I could stay if I wanted but, well…”

  “He lives somewhere up there?” Nolan pointed to the way Derek had come.

  “Yes, but I don’t think I could find it again.”

  “This car wreck. I presume you weren’t the driver. You don’t look old enough.”

  “No, sir. It was my folks and I…I think they died, but I don’t know. Michael said they had to have, from the look of the car.”

  “Michael’s the man who took you in?”

  “Yes.”

  “When did this happen? Maybe the sheriff can find out if they made it.”

  “A-a while ago. I don’t know just when or where.”

  The look on Nolan’s face said he didn’t quite believe Derek, but he didn’t press the issue. “So, this Michael, he’s a young guy living, I think they call it ‘off the grid’?”

  “No, he was old. Over fifty.”

  Nolan snorted. “That’s not old. Though I guess from your perspective, it is. How old are you?”

  “Michael figured maybe sixteen.” Derek waggled his hand.

  “Yeah, I’d say that’s about right from looking at you.” Nolan drummed his fingers on the edge of stair. “Have you remembered anything at all about your life, even just fragments?”

  “Just bits and pieces. Mom reading a story to me when I was a kid. Something—” he frowned “—something from high school, I think. Michael quoted a line, from Shakespeare he said, and I got a flash of this guy I think I knew, on stage in a long robe with fairies. I mean there were fairies dancing around.”

  “Probably Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’s a popular play for high schools to do. Anything else?”

  “Tossing a ball with my dad. Umm, Mom telling me I couldn’t wear a pair of jeans because they were too worn out. Just…nothing important. Nothing that tells me who I am or where I lived or anything.” Derek sighed. “The last thing I remember is the end. I think we were going on vacation. Mom was pregnant, I remember that. Dad was driving. We went around a curve, there was a bang, and then I was flying.”

  Nolan nodded. “Like the tire blew?”

  “I guess.” Derek shrugged.

  “Did this Michael check to see if they survived?”

  “He said he did. By the time he got to the car, it was burned up, so he looked to see if anyone had been thrown out and found me.”

  “It must have hit the rocks. Damned hard to burst into flames, unless it went over the side and blew up when it hit the ground. Tell you what. If you want, I can ask Sheriff Thompson if there were any reports of a car going over a cliff. There are not too many places around here that I know of where that could happen. The roads either have mounta
ins on each side or guardrails when they don’t.”

  Derek closed his eyes for a minute, trying to recall the last things he’d seen before the accident. “The road fell off on one side. I think Mom told Dad to be real careful about any cars coming toward us. You know, like they might not see us on the curves and if he had to get out of the way, we could go over.” He shrugged. “Maybe the guardrail was broken?”

  “Possible. Okay, I’ll tell the sheriff that. Unfortunately, if you did go over, there might not have been any reports of it, if no one saw the accident. What I don’t get is why this Michael didn’t report finding you.”

  “I don’t know. He said he almost never left the area of the cabin except to hunt. I don’t think he—” Derek almost said liked and realized that would mean he knew he wasn’t alive now “—likes people much.”

  Nolan chuckled. “I think that’s a given, considering he seems to be living in the middle of nowhere. Still, he should have let someone know about the wreck.”

  “He said the nearest town was fifty miles away.”

  “Which could be this one or who knows where else.”

  Janet came back at that point, taking a seat on the swing. “Derek, what are your plans now? Or do you have any?”

  “I don’t know. I just…” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Nolan glanced at his wife before saying, “Look, if you want, you can stay here for a couple of days. At least long enough for the sheriff to check about the accident. If it was reported then he might be able to find out who the car belonged to and you can go from there.”

  “Before you say no,” Janet added, “we have plenty of room with the boys gone, so you wouldn’t be putting anyone out.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, you don’t know anything about me.” He smiled, but just barely. “I could be a thief with a good story, or a killer or something, for all you know.”

  Nolan laughed. “If you were, you’d have jumped at the chance instead of saying what you just did. I don’t think we’ll worry about your stealing the family silverware.”

  “Then yes, I’d like to, for a day or two, until I figure out where I’m going next.”