D-Boy

by Edward Kendrick

  Five minutes later, they were in Joe’s pickup truck, heading up the highway. They didn’t talk much other than Joe asking Derek a bit about himself. Derek told him he was heading home to Denver after a hiking trip and left it at that, figuring it was close enough to the truth to work. Thankfully, as far as Derek was concerned, Joe seemed to accept that at face value.

  “Just be careful on the Interstate,” Joe warned him. “They’ll bust you if they think you’re hitchhiking.”

  Derek nodded, as if he already knew that.

  Two hours later, the road they were on crossed the Interstate into Idaho Springs. Joe pulled to a stop by a ski rental shop, saying that was as far as he was going. After thanking him for the ride, Derek got out and headed back toward the Interstate.

  * * * *

  It was getting dark by the time Derek left the Interstate. He was tired and hungry and when he saw a city off to his left, he hoped he’d finally gotten to Denver. He found out soon enough he was actually in Golden, which a clerk at a convenience store told him was about fifteen miles from Denver. Too tired to keep going, he thought about trying to rent a motel room until he realized he had no ID. That was something he was certain they’d want to see, even if he offered to pay cash—especially since he obviously wasn’t an adult.

  He kept walking until he found a fast-food place where he stopped to get a hamburger and some fries to go. As he ate them, he stayed alert for somewhere he could hide and sleep for the night. He finally spotted a small park full of trees and grass with a few benches along the paths. He took one of the paths and when he was sure no one was watching, he ducked into the trees and found a thick clump of bushes. He crawled into them and waited until he was certain it was safe before lying down.

  A lot different than a couple of nights ago. He curled up, using the backpack as a pillow, even though it was somewhat hard and lumpy because of the box. Still it’s better than when I was hiking through the mountains, since at least it’s warm.

  Shifting, he stared up at what he could see of the sky through the bushes.

  What do I do, once I get to Denver? Hope I see something I remember? Hope I can find somewhere to stay? I didn’t plan this too well, but damn it, I couldn’t just sit around up there wondering. Wondering who I am. Wondering who killed Michael. He chuckled softly. Wondering if I’m being stupid doing this. I’m hardly an adult. What do I know about—anything when it comes down to it?

  That thought depressed him. He had the feeling he’d just jumped into a hornet’s nest feet first and didn’t know how or what to do next.

  But I am here, and I’m not turning back. Somehow I will find out who I am, and who my family was. I don’t know how, but I will.

  Chapter 3

  “How old are you, kid?” the man behind the counter asked.

  Derek lied, maybe. He wasn’t sure. “Sixteen-and-a-half.”

  “Ever worked before?”

  “No, sir, but I think I could flip burgers without messing up.”

  The man cocked an eyebrow then chuckled. “Probably. Your folks know you’re looking for a job?”

  Derek stared down at his shoes. “My folks are dead,” he whispered.

  “Shit, sorry. What about whoever you’ve been staying with?”

  Still looking down, Derek whispered. “I haven’t been. I…it was a car accident and…and…never mind. Sorry I bothered you.” He turned to leave.

  “Hang on, kid. What did you say your name was?”

  “Derek. Derek White.” He chose the first surname he could think of, the White’s, since he knew that with no last name, no one would even think of hiring him and he needed a job. Not for the money but because it would give him some place safe to stay for eight hours a day.

  He’d been in the city for a week, trying to keep it together as he wandered through parts of it, looking for somewhere, anywhere, that might trigger a memory. He’d found a sort of safe place to stay, a shelter he’d run across where they didn’t ask any questions. But if he wasn’t there early enough, they ran out of beds.

  “So, Derek, if you’re not staying with someone, are you living on the streets?”

  “No, sir. In a shelter.”

  “I see. This car accident, you were in it too?”

  Derek nodded.

  “That why you’re limping?”

  “Yes, sir. My leg got broken and it didn’t heal right.”

  “Must have been some bad doctors that took care of you.”

  “It was up in the mountains,” Derek replied, as if that explained it.

  The man snorted. “Could have figured. Look, I could use you, just like the sign in the window says. You’d have to fill out paperwork, though, and show me some ID.”

  Without replying, Derek turned to leave again.

  “No ID?” the man asked.

  “It got lost, in the accident, I guess.” Derek paused then added, lying again, “The people at the clinic were kind of pissed when they found out ‘cause there was no one they could contact to pay them and so I sort of snuck out before I should have and made my way down here and…” He stuttered to a stop.

  “What a load of bull,” the man said, but he was smiling. “Look, I can’t pay much but from the look of you, you could use some regular meals. If I hire you, I’ll pay you a bit, and you’ll have free license to eat all you can, within reason.”

  “Really?” Derek wanted to cheer but he didn’t think that was such a good idea.

  “Really. Truth be told, I was on the streets a long time ago. I know what it’s like and it’s not great. So if you’re honest, don’t try to steal from me, and put in full day’s work, I’ll give you a chance. You blow it; you’re out on your ass.”

  “Thank you!”

  “By the way, my name’s Mel. Mel Carpenter. Good to meet you, Derek.”

  “You too, sir.”

  “Call me Mel, or you’re fired.”

  Derek grinned happily. “Yes, sir, Mel.”

  “Now get back here and I’ll show you the ropes.”

  * * * *

  By the time Derek had been working for Mel for six months, he thought he knew the city better than most of the people who had lived there all their lives. When he wasn’t flipping burgers, he was walking the neighborhoods trying to see if anywhere sparked a memory. Or perhaps, that someone would see him and say, ‘Hey, where the hell have you been? I haven’t seen you in forever’. Neither had happened so far.

  He did, however, have a place to stay now. After the first week at the City Diner, Mel introduced him to friend of his, an older man named Charlie, who was an occasional customer. He lived in a small house on the edge of one of the, as he put it, less than savory areas of the city, and had a spare room, which he was willing to rent to Derek cheaply. The only proviso was that if any of the neighborhood punks caused problems with Charlie, Derek would handle it. Derek was more than willing to accept that arrangement.

  Less than two weeks after he moved in, someone tried to break into the house. Derek did the logical thing, as far as he was concerned. He got out Michael’s gun and faced them down. The fact that it wasn’t loaded didn’t matter. The two teens didn’t know that. They left with their tails between their legs and the word got out that Derek wasn’t someone to mess with. When he told Charlie, the old man had laughed and patted him on the back. “That’ll teach them” was his only comment.

  Mel asked him one afternoon, out of the blue, when his birthday was. Derek glanced at the calendar and told him, “April fifteenth,” which was three weeks away. When he picked the date, he realized he would have been in the city almost seven months to the fifteenth.

  “Okay,” Mel said, flipping the page on the calendar to mark it down. “Only three weeks and you’ll be seventeen. I think that merits a celebration, don’t you?”

  Derek had wanted to protest, but from the grin on Mel’s face, he decided it probably wouldn’t do any good.

  When the day actually rolled around, Mel acted as if he’d forgotten, tot
ally ignoring the fact ‘Derek’s Birthday’ was staring him in the face if he looked at the calendar. So Derek decided Mel had changed his mind about celebrating it, which was fine with him, since he felt a bit guilty about the whole thing.

  It was just before closing when the door to the diner opened and several of the regulars trooped in. They lined up on the stools at the counter, as if it was perfectly natural for them all to show up at once. Mel grinned, beckoning for Derek to come out of the kitchen. As soon as he did, Charlie appeared from the street carrying a big cake. He set it down on the counter and lit the candles. Then everyone began singing ‘Happy Birthday’. Admittedly it was more than a bit off key but Derek didn’t care. Just realizing that so many people actually cared about him enough that they’d shown up to help him celebrate, made his day.

  After the song was finished and the cake cut and served, Mel went into his office, coming back with a large, gaily wrapped package, which he handed to Derek.

  “You didn’t have to…” Derek started to say.

  “Yeah, I know,” Mel replied. “No one has to give gifts. They do it because they want to. Now open it.”

  Derek did, his eyes widening in shock.

  Mel grinned. “I figured every kid in the world had one of these but you,” he said, tapping the laptop. “Now you do too.”

  “Whoa,” Derek whispered. He knew something about computers from using the one at the diner to help Mel keep track of supplies, but to have one of his own…“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

  “I think one thanks is probably sufficient,” Mel told him, chuckling. “And you’re welcome. Just don’t—” he wagged an admonishing finger “—go checking out the porn sites. You’re too young.”

  Charlie snorted, saying, “You’re never too young for that, kid,” which earned him laughs from the other customers.

  * * * *

  Derek didn’t go surfing porn sites. He had no interest in them at all. He did, however, try to find out what he could about Michael. He discovered Google, which was the primary search engine in the year two thousand. At least that’s what he read on one of the online sites he visited.

  He entered Michael’s name and came up with thousands of hits. Then he tried Michael W Long, the name on the discharge paper. That reduced the number sizably but it was still a very long list. After thinking about it, he tried birth years, figuring if Michael had been in his fifties when Derek met him, he must have been born sometime in the nineteen-forties. That took him to lots of genealogy sites but there was no easy way to figure out if one of those Michael’s was his murdered friend.

  From there, he tried looking for him by adding his discharge date from the Marines. That got him nowhere. If there was a way to access that information, he couldn’t figure it out.

  Having no luck on Michael, he decided to see if he could find out about the accident that had killed his parents. He remembered what the sheriff had told him, but wanted to see if there was possibly something he hadn’t revealed—or hadn’t known about. Again, he hit a brick wall. Apparently you had to have clearance in order to access police records.

  Stymied on all counts, he gave up for the time being. But he didn’t give up on the computer itself. He loved messing with it and discovered, quite by accident, there was a game called Counter-Strike he could play online once he bought it and loaded it onto the laptop. He became addicted, almost to the point of forgetting why he had come to the city in the first place.

  That changed a month later.

  * * * *

  Derek was halfway through his shift when Mel came into the diner kitchen. “There’s some man out there who wants to talk to you.”

  “One of the customers?” Derek asked, as he finished filling an order and set it on the shelf for Mel’s newest waiter to pick up.

  “Nope. Never saw the guy before.”

  Derek looked through the opening between the kitchen and the counter. “Which one?”

  “Dark pants, blue shirt, brown hair.”

  “No one I know. Did he ask for me by name or say what he wanted?”

  “He said ‘Mr. White’ and just that he had to talk to you.” Mel paused before adding, “I don’t think he knows what you look like, since he didn’t react to either you or Pat when he saw the two of you, for whatever that says.”

  Just then the man looked their way.

  “Now he knows,” Derek muttered.

  “If you don’t want to talk, I’ll tell him you’re too busy, which you will be,” Mel pointed out when Pat came over to pick up his order and leave three more.

  “Yeah, do, please. Tell him to come back later?”

  “Got it.”

  Mel went back to the man, they spoke for a minute, and the man left, not looking at all happy with the situation.

  Derek spent the rest of the day wondering who the guy was. If he only knew the name ‘Derek White’ then he couldn’t be someone his parents had known. Unless Sheriff Thompson sent him, but how would he know I work here?

  That last part really bothered Derek. How would anyone looking for him know he worked at the diner? Guess I’ll find out when he comes back, if he does.

  He didn’t, which left Derek both relieved and worried. He didn’t like not knowing how the man had found him, and why he’d been looking. When he left the diner, he checked to see if maybe the guy was hanging around outside. He didn’t see the man or anyone else who seemed interested in him. Still, as he hurried to catch his bus home, he had a feeling he was being watched. He stopped twice, long enough to take another look around, and saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  Once he was on the bus, he tried to relax. I’m being paranoid. He was probably someone I chatted with online while playing my game. Though why they’d decide to try to meet me in person is beyond me. He chuckled softly, causing the woman next to him to smile in response. He wanted hints about why I’m so good at the game then decided I probably wouldn’t tell him.

  Derek got off the bus a stop earlier than normal so he could pick up a carton of milk at the convenience store. He chatted for a moment with the clerk then saw it was just starting to rain. Swearing under his breath, he dashed out of the store, heading toward the street.

  He realized later that’s probably what saved him. A car was parked to one side of the lot, its engine idling. When Derek started to run by it, the doors swung open and two men jumped out, one of them the man from the diner. He called Derek’s name and when Derek kept running, he started after him. But Derek had a good head start. He raced down the street then turned quickly into someone’s yard and around to the back. He heard footsteps following him and ducked down beside the back porch and seconds later slid through a hole in the dirt under the decorative latticework. A hole he suspected some dog had dug.

  He touched the Saint Christopher medal under his shirt, praying the man wouldn’t realize where he was. Then he waited, holding his breath, until he heard the man mutter, “He got away,” before leaving the yard the way he’d come in.

  Derek remained where he was for another five minutes, just to be certain he was alone. Even when he was sure he was, he still eased cautiously out from under the porch. Instead of going back to the sidewalk, he made his way through several backyards until he was across the street from Charlie’s house. After glancing in both directions and seeing neither the men nor the car, he dashed across the street—not to Charlie’s but to the house two doors down. Again he went around it to the backyard. If the men had found him at the convenience store, he figured there might be a chance they also knew where he lived.

  Although if they do, why not try to catch me at home? Why even come by the diner in the first place—or the convenience store?

  Making his way to the back door of Charlie’s, he let himself in.

  Charlie looked up from the kitchen table, shaking his head. “Decided to take a mud bath before you came home?”

  Derek looked down and saw he was covered in mud, probably from his time under the porch. “I slipped wh
en I was trying to beat the worst of the rain to get here,” he said quickly, hoping Charlie would believe him.

  “Well, go clean up before you track it through the house. And why are you coming in the back way?”

  “Umm, so I wouldn’t leave mud in the front room?”

  Charlie cocked an eyebrow but accepted his excuse.

  Derek was halfway dressed in clean clothes when the doorbell rang. He started to call out to Charlie not to answer but it was too late. He heard a man say, “We’re sorry to bother you, sir, but we’re looking for a boy in his late teens who tried to rob the convenience store a block or so from here.”

  “I haven’t seen anyone,” Charlie replied. “What did he look like?”

  “Caucasian. About five-ten, black hair, dressed in jeans and a blue or black T-shirt.”

  “Nope, no one like that around that I’ve seen and in this neighborhood, he’d stand out like a sore thumb.”

  “Is there any way he could have gotten in here without your knowing?”

  Charlie snorted. “I may be old, but I’m not deaf or blind. Anyone comes in here, I’d know it.”

  “Very well. Thank you for your time, sir.”

  Derek heard the door close and moments later, Charlie came into the bedroom. “You been trying to rob places?” he asked. For a moment, Derek thought he was serious until Charlie chuckled. “I know you wouldn’t, but it was you they’re looking for. Any idea why?”

  “No,” Derek replied while he pulled on his T-shirt. “I saw them when I came out of the convenience store. Oh damn, I left the milk under the porch.”

  “Forget the milk. Who are they?”

  “I don’t know. One of the men came by work looking for me but he didn’t know what I looked like until Mel came back to tell me.”

  “Humm. And they don’t know where you live, apparently, so they must have followed your bus.”

  Derek nodded. “I can’t figure out how they knew I work for Mel.”

  Charlie glanced at the laptop which was sitting on the desk. “You ever say anything about it to someone you talked to on that thing?”