“Deputy Askew put handcuffs on me to show me how they work, and I couldn’t take them off. He had to use a key to unlock them.”
“You’re not Houdini.”
Jimmy looked at the belt in Walt’s hand. “I don’t want to play that game. I want to get the plants.”
Walt moved closer until he was directly in Jimmy’s face. “You can tie me up first if you want, or I can tie you up. Then we’ll see who can wiggle free. There are other parts of the game that I can’t tell you about until we start playing.”
Jimmy looked in his cousin’s eyes and saw evil. A wave of fear washed over him. He spun and started to run. In a few steps he was into the woods surrounding the clearing. Buster barked and ran after him.
“Come back here!” Walt commanded.
Jimmy didn’t slow down or look back. He could hear Walt’s footsteps close behind him. Buster barked excitedly at the mad dash through the woods. Jimmy tore through a small grove of trees but didn’t slow down even when skinny branches scratched his face and arms.
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to beat you bloody!” Walt called out.
Jimmy ducked under a large branch. When he did, his glasses fell off. For a split second, he hesitated, but the sound of Walt crashing through the underbrush seemed more important than finding his glasses. He kept running, holding his hands before his face to try to clear a way through the blurry branches and tree trunks.
Jimmy reached the top of a rise and turned. He didn’t see the drop-off until he’d run over the edge and found himself falling through the air. He landed in a bush that crackled beneath him. Buster scampered around and down the rocks.
Dazed, Jimmy stood up. He could hear Walt cursing and making threats. Jimmy shook his head to clear it and then continued running down the hill. He didn’t stop until the pain in his lungs became so great that he had to grab a small pine tree and hold on. His chest pumped up and down while he caught his breath. When the sound of his breathing quieted, he listened. He heard Walt’s voice, but it was farther away now. Jimmy couldn’t tell if his cries were the sound of rage or pain. Buster barked.
“Quiet!” Jimmy commanded.
Jimmy continued running but at a slower pace. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. All he knew was that he needed to get as far away as possible from the evil he’d seen in Walt’s eyes. The next time he stopped to catch his breath, the only sound that reached his ears was the chirping of a bird perched on a limb above his head. He waited longer. Still no sound of Walt. He looked around. He could see things within a few feet of his face, but beyond that, his surroundings were fuzzy. Buster had wandered off, and Jimmy couldn’t see or hear him.
“Buster,” he hissed out.
He heard a crunching in the leaves behind him. He whirled and strained to see who or what was approaching. In a moment, the dog returned to his side. Jimmy slumped down on the ground at the base of the tree. Buster jumped into his lap and licked his chin.
Jimmy began to cry.
He sobbed. His whole body shook. To avoid wailing out loud, he stuffed the bottom of his shirt into his mouth. Buster laid his head on Jimmy’s leg. Jimmy bit down on his shirt until the crashing waves of sadness went away. He sniffled a few more times and stroked Buster’s back.
“What am I going to do?” he asked in a shaky voice.
He rubbed his eyes and wished he had his glasses. He couldn’t think of anything to do except to keep walking. Standing up, he continued in what he hoped was the direction away from Walt. The underbrush thickened and slowed him. He pushed aside small limbs with his arms and shuffled his feet along the ground. In a few minutes, the ground cleared up again and stayed like that for a long time. Jimmy went on without hearing the sound of another person or any sight of Piney Grove. The sun sank lower in the late-afternoon sky. Buster roamed to one side or another of Jimmy’s route. Several times, Jimmy called him back.
The trees opened, and Jimmy stepped into a clearing. In the center of the open space was a run-down house built of weathered gray boards. Jimmy came closer and saw that one side of the roof was caved in. The front porch had fallen to the ground, and the bottom of the front door was chest high. He pushed on the door, but it didn’t budge. Standing on the ground, he couldn’t reach the rusty doorknob. The windows had been boarded up with plywood that was also gray.
He was very thirsty and his mouth felt dry. He walked around to the back of the house and found an outhouse. Beyond the outhouse at the edge of the woods was a large piece of tin. Buster was sniffing the edges of the square piece of metal. Jimmy moved the tin out of the way. When he did, he saw that it covered a hole in the ground. Jimmy got down on his knees. It was an open well. He could smell the water. It smelled like rotten eggs, but if he’d had a cup, Jimmy would have taken a big swallow. Buster twitched his nose.
“There is water in there, but we can’t get it.”
Jimmy picked up a small rock and dropped it in the well. Almost immediately he heard a small splash.
“It’s close to the top.”
Jimmy lay on the ground and stuck his arm into the hole as far as he could reach. He touched nothing except the sides of the hole. He began to look around for something to dip into the water. He found an old coffee can with blue paint on the outside, but the bottom was rusted out. He kicked around in a small mound of trash near a large metal drum. His shoe uncovered pieces of aluminum foil that hadn’t rusted. He stepped away from the large drum and heard the crunch of plastic beneath his feet. Looking down, he picked up a plastic milk jug. He’d smashed one corner, but it was still usable. He shook it. It was empty.
“Grandpa would know what to do,” he said, sorry that Grandpa wasn’t with him.
He returned to the well, lay on the ground, and tried to reach the water with the jug. He pushed himself forward so that more of his body went into the hole. He inched forward and teetered at the edge, in real danger of losing his balance and falling headfirst into the well. He heard a sound behind him, and when he shifted his body, he slipped forward. In an instant, he realized he was going into the water.
He screamed.
His hand slammed into the side of the well, where it struck a small stone protruding from the wall. The rock slowed his slide, and he reached out with his other hand and grabbed a tangle of roots. For a second he didn’t move, suspended over the pit. Then, holding the roots as tightly as he could, he shoved himself off the rock. His fingers scratched across the dark surface and found a thicker root. He grabbed the root and pushed himself away from the hole.
In a few seconds, he was out of the well and lying facedown on the grass. He sucked air into his lungs as if still threatened with drowning. He couldn’t remember ever being as tired as he was now. He closed his eyes and lay still. Buster came over and licked his ear. Jimmy didn’t move. Several minutes passed before he rolled over and looked up.
At his feet stood a figure framed by the setting sun. Without his glasses, Jimmy couldn’t make out his exact form, but he immediately knew who it was.
It was a Watcher.
Jimmy held up his hand, and the Watcher lifted him to his feet. Never before had Jimmy touched one of the Watchers. His touch gave Jimmy warm strength. He showed no emotion. Buster, now sitting on the other side of the well, looked past Jimmy with his head tilted to one side.
“Thank you, sir,” Jimmy said.
He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say anything, but Mama had taught him that good manners were always the right thing to do. The Watcher turned and began to walk away from the well. Jimmy knew to follow. They walked to the other side of the house. The Watcher stopped beside an old washing machine. There was a metal pipe sticking up from the ground with a spigot attached to it. A small tin cup on a slender, rusty chain hung down from the spigot. Jimmy held up the cup and understood.
“It’s a way to get water,” he said, nodding his head.
He looked around and saw a long, sturdy stick in the grass near the washing machine. He picked up
the stick and grabbed the chain. He could use the chain to tie the cup to the end of the stick. It would be like one of the old cane poles he used as a little boy when he went fishing with Grandpa. Before Jimmy could yank the chain free, the Watcher stretched out his hand and placed it firmly on Jimmy’s wrist. Once again, Jimmy felt the warmth of his touch. He dropped his hand.
“What do I do?”
Still not understanding, he looked again at the pump. He touched the handle and pushed down. It moved. He grabbed the handle and pulled it up. He repeated the movement and heard the hissing sound of moving air. Several more times he pumped up and down. He heard a gurgling noise, and a tiny stream of water dripped from the spigot. He stopped and looked up in surprise.
The Watcher was gone.
Jimmy pumped the handle hard until water gushed from the spigot. He grabbed the cup and held it underneath while it quickly filled. He took a long drink. The water from the pump didn’t smell at all like rotten eggs. It had the sweetest taste of any liquid that had ever passed his lips. Buster joined him, licking up water that splashed onto the ground. Jimmy kept pumping and filled the cup again. He drank it to the bottom, then held a cupful in front of the dog’s nose. Buster greedily lapped it up.
“It’s good water,” Jimmy said. “He knew where to find good water.”
THEY DRANK ALL THEY WANTED. THEN JIMMY SPLASHED HIS neck and rubbed his face, washing away the grime and dirt from his flight through the woods and close call at the well. Afterward, he felt better inside and out. He poured water on Buster’s back and laughed as the dog shook himself dry. The sound of his own voice caused Jimmy to glance around. The sun had sunk below the trees. He looked at the old house. He could probably find a way to get inside, but spending the night in an abandoned house in the middle of the woods didn’t seem like a good idea. He stepped away from the pump and stood in the front yard. Trees surrounded the house, but even with his blurred vision, Jimmy could tell that at one place the trees were much smaller and less developed.
“The driveway,” he said to Buster. “Grandpa says all driveways lead to roads. Whoever lived here had to have a way to come and go.”
He walked toward the smaller trees. There was no mistaking a narrow road leading away from the house. He started to follow it, then stopped.
If he found the road, he might also find Walt. He’d spent the past few hours running away from his cousin. Did he want to return to an area where he might run into him? Jimmy looked back at the house and the pump. He could stay and drink the sweet water in safety or leave and risk what was waiting for him in the woods. He wished the Watcher had stayed.
“What do you want to do?” he asked Buster.
The dog didn’t move. Jimmy knelt and stroked his back.
“That’s not your job, is it?”
Suddenly, tears welled in Jimmy’s eyes. It wasn’t the same crushing sadness he’d felt in the woods. He wasn’t sure what caused it. After a few moments, he rubbed his eyes.
“Now that I’ve had a drink of water, I can cry,” he said.
Jimmy stayed on his knees, rubbing the dog’s back and wishing for an answer. The shadow of a tall pine tree reached the edge of his foot. He stared at the shadow for a few seconds, then stood up.
“Let’s go,” he said. “If we wait much longer, it will be too dark to see what’s up ahead.”
After about thirty minutes, the shadows deepened, and the possibility of spending the night alone in the woods became more likely. Buster pattered alongside him.
“This sure is a long driveway,” he said.
He stepped across a narrow ditch. Growing on the opposite side of the ditch was a band of wild azaleas sprinkled with lavender blossoms. At the sight of the flowering bushes, Jimmy remembered his plan to find fresh plants for Aunt Jill. He snapped off several limbs and clutched them in his right hand. He hoped Aunt Jill would be happy.
A few feet farther, he crossed another ditch and stumbled onto the edge of a gravel road. He looked one way and could tell the road climbed a small hill. In the other direction, the road seemed flat.
“Let’s not climb any hills,” he suggested to Buster. “I bet you’re tired.”
They walked along the gravel surface. The last gray light from the sun slipped away, and the first stage of night arrived. On nature’s cue, hundreds of crickets and katydids began to call out. The road stayed flat. They passed an old mailbox with faded numbers on its side. Not much farther off, Jimmy saw another mailbox knocked from its post. No houses were visible in the dark. No welcoming lights shone through the trees. Jimmy heard the sound of a car coming down the road behind them. He stepped back into the woods.
“Come here,” he called to Buster.
He knelt and held the dog while the vehicle approached. When it came level with them, Jimmy could tell it was a pickup truck. Loud country music blared from the open windows. He scrambled into the road and waved his arms.
“Hey!” he called out. “Stop!”
The red taillights of the truck disappeared in a haze of dust. He ran a few steps, then stopped.
They continued walking. Jimmy was thirsty and tired. The good water from the pump was a happy memory that began to make him grumpy. His tired and hurting feet slowed. They walked around a curve. It was now totally dark. He looked up and saw a blue light flashing against the sky. He stopped and stared. In a few moments he heard the sound of an approaching car. He moved to the edge of the road as the lights came around a bend.
It was a police car.
Jimmy stepped into the road and began to wave his arms. The car slowed to a stop, and the door flew open.
“Jimmy! Are you all right?” a familiar voice called out.
It was Deputy Askew. Jimmy let his hands drop to his side.
“Yes, sir!” he said. “It’s me and Buster!”
The deputy came over to him. Jimmy’s shoulders slumped, and he leaned against the officer as he led Jimmy to the car. Buster barked and ran around them.
“Walt,” Jimmy began.
“I already know,” Deputy Askew interrupted. “He’s at the hospital with a broken ankle. It was brave of you to go for help, but you should have stayed with him. We’ve been looking for you since four o’clock this afternoon. I was making one more pass up this road before heading home for the night.”
Jimmy felt light-headed. The officer opened the passenger side door of the car and helped him inside. Jimmy reached for a bottle of water, then stopped.
“Go ahead,” Deputy Askew said. “I know you must be dying of thirst after so many hours without a drink.”
Jimmy started to tell about the pump but stopped.
“Do you have a cup for Buster?” he asked.
“Sure.”
Askew took a paper cup, tore off the top half, and poured water for the dog. Buster stood beside the vehicle and lapped up the water. Jimmy took a few good swallows from the blue plastic water bottle.
“You took time to pick flowers?” the deputy asked, shaking his head at the rapidly wilting bouquet on the front seat of the patrol car.
“Yes, sir. They’re for my Aunt Jill so she won’t be mad at me.”
“Why would she be mad?”
Jimmy told him about the wreath.
“After what’s happened today, I don’t think some stray red paint on a wreath is going to be very important.”
“He chased me,” Jimmy said, leaning back against the seat.
“I know. I talked with him at the hospital just before they took him back for surgery.”
“Surgery?”
“Yeah. The bone was almost popping out of the skin. It was a bad break, but I radioed the hospital a few minutes ago, and he’s already back in a regular room. We knew you had to be in the area, and he told me you tried to take a shortcut through the woods. If you ever go for help in the future, always stay near the road. That’s how they found Walt. He crawled to the edge of the road. A driver saw him, stopped, and called an ambulance.”
“Is he
in trouble?”
“Yes, but I’m sure his parents are glad that he didn’t spend all night in the woods with a broken ankle.”
“My parents are out of town.”
“Your uncle’s been trying to reach them. They may already be on their way back.”
“I want to go home.”
“Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“No, I’m not sick. Just tired.”
Deputy Askew radioed the other patrol cars that he’d located Jimmy and told the dispatcher to get in touch with his parents and Uncle Bart. Jimmy settled into the seat as they drove down the gravel road. Buster was already asleep on the floorboard. Jimmy’s eyelids fluttered, and he leaned his head to the side.
His eyes popped open with a start when the gravel road ended and they hit a bump that marked the beginning of a smooth surface. It wasn’t the same road with the hills that made Jimmy’s stomach jump. The events of the day already seemed a week old. Deputy Askew didn’t have on his blue lights anymore, but he seemed to be driving fast toward town. Although fuzzy and out of focus, Jimmy could distinguish familiar sights as they crossed into the city limits. A female voice came over the radio.
“Jimmy’s parents are at the house waiting for him. They know he’s okay and won’t be going to the hospital.”
“It looks like you’re going to sleep in your own bed tonight,” the deputy said. “Are you hungry?”
Jimmy hadn’t thought about food.
“I’m so tired, I don’t really know,” he answered.
Deputy Askew reached over and patted him on the shoulder.
“Your appetite will be back tomorrow. What’s your favorite breakfast?”
“Pecan pancakes with link sausage.”
Jimmy remembered that Aunt Jill had fixed his favorite meal that very morning. She’d been very nice to him, and he hoped she wouldn’t be disappointed that he didn’t find more flowers. Askew turned onto Jimmy’s street.
“If you ever have something like that happen again, what are you going to do?” the deputy asked.
Jimmy Page 20