“Where we going and how much longer are we going to stay on the road?” Elva demanded.
“Soon as I see a spot that looks like it’s off the beaten track, I’ll stop. You feeling frisky, Elva?” he baited her. “That why you wanna stop so quick?”
She ignored him, her mind racing ahead. The kid had said he could run, so he must be all right. Little kids were always hungry. Whatever it was Cudge had bought, she would save her portion for the little boy to take with him.
Cudge was so full of it. First he tried to kill her, then he thought he could make it all better by calling her honey and telling her he’d take her to a lodge in the Poconos with a heart-shaped bathtub. As if that would make everything all right. The thought was too ludicrous even to warrant a smile. She was just beginning to realize how stupid Cudge really was. Now, when it was too late.
“Elva, get that map out and take a look-see. I just seen something that makes me nervous. Take a look over there and tell me what you see. Ain’t that the same diner and ain’t that the same gas station we seen when we started out? It is!” he bellowed. “There’s that mom-and-pop camp store. Of all the friggin’ luck!” For the first time in his life Cudge felt raw gut fear. They were right back at the scene of the burial. The kid would have told his folks. There’d be cops everywhere. Fear swooped up into his throat and he gagged. What should he do? Head back to Newark? Turn around and drive all night? Camp? Where?
Elva felt herself go limp. This was her miracle. Think, she had to think. “That’s good, ain’t it, Cudge? Who would ever think we’d come back here? We can even stop at the store and get the water and stuff.” She hardly dared breathe. “We don’t have to camp in the Wild Adventure campground. We don’t need no hookups. You could pull deep into the woods. A flashlight is all we need. What do you think, Cudge?” she asked anxiously. “But we better get off the road now, before it gets dark.” The little boy will be able to find his way to the highway before the black night descends, she thought. “Take a look at the sky, looks like rain to me. If we’re going to stop, we better do it now.” Childishly she crossed her fingers, waiting for his answer. Make it the right answer, she pleaded silently. You’re almost free, little boy, she said over and over in her mind.
Cudge risked a glance at Elva, then made up his mind. She was probably right, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of telling her so. Without thinking, he signaled a right turn and was off the road.
He had done what she wanted; now she would let the little boy out. Elva’s teeth clamped together in relief.
“You’re right, it’s gonna rain pretty soon.” Cudge frowned. “Elva, you notice anything, feel anything?”
Now what? “What’s wrong?”
“Feels like we’re limping, like maybe we’re getting a flat. I’ll have to check it out when we stop.”
This couldn’t be happening. All the tools were in the pop-up in a tool kit under the bunk. Cudge would crank it open and then it would be all over for her and the little boy. She tried for a light tone. “You’re just uptight, Cudge. I don’t think there’s anything wrong.”
“We’ll know soon enough.” He drove a little way beyond the campground to a general store. “I’ll pull up around the back and take a look. Here’s some money—you hobble in and get a few things. No gabbin’, Elva.”
The moment Cudge braked the pickup, Elva had the door open and was outside in the damp air, pretending to check the tires on her side. She moved toward the pop-up. “Little boy,” she whispered, “whatever you do, don’t make a sound.”
Cudge bent down to inspect the tires on his side. “The rear tire’s really low. Must have a slow leak. I’m gonna have to change it, but I think we can hold out till we make camp. Go get our stuff and make it snappy.”
“Cudge, I gotta go to the bathroom real bad. You go in and get the stuff,” she said, holding out the money.
“All right, but I ain’t buying no Kool-Aid; goes against my grain to buy that crap.” He watched her limp to the restroom.
When Elva was done, she opened the door and looked around the tiny parking area. Thank God he hadn’t cranked open the camper. “Little boy, can you hear me? Say something. Are you all right? You ain’t bleeding, are you? I been real worried.”
“I’m okay. Let me out. When are you going to let me out?” Davey pleaded.
“I was going to do it now, but Cudge is watching me. We’re going to stop real soon because it looks like it might rain. You gotta be ready to run real fast. I’m sorry I couldn’t let you out before, but he was watching all the time. I couldn’t take the chance. You just have to hang tight for a little longer. I’ll get you out, I promise.”
A promise. That was real, Davey thought. Something true that happened even when you thought it wouldn’t. Like when Aunt Lorrie made a promise. “Okay, I can wait.”
“I ain’t gonna be able to run with you, but you’ll be able to make it by yourself. I got a flashlight you can use. It’s the best I can do. Shhh, he’s coming now.”
“Who the hell you talking to, Elva? I seen your mouth going a mile a minute from inside.”
If it had worked once, it would work again. “I was singing to myself, like this,” she said miming the words to an Elvis favorite. “I miss not hearing my music.”
“Get in. I got eggs, bacon, instant coffee, bottled water, beer and some cupcakes. They had a special on Coke so I got two six-packs. Here’s a can for you,” he said generously. “I got us a little information. A quarter of a mile down the road there’s a deserted quarry. What do you think?”
Deserted. Would the kid get lost, or hurt, trying to get away with only a flashlight to guide him? “Yeah, sounds good to me,” she said. She hoped it wasn’t too far off the road or the kid wouldn’t be able to make it to the campground. “You don’t want to be driving on dirt roads with that tire like that,” she cautioned.
“I won’t. Just till we’re out of sight. Beats the shit out of me how we ended up back where we started. See those trees over there? That’s the back of the Wild Adventure Park, and to the right of that is where old Lenny’s planted. It’s your fault, Elva. Somehow you screwed this all up. Everybody said that 1998 was a big year for assholes, but you carried over to ’99.”
There was no point in arguing with Cudge. The more he talked, the less time he had to think. She could listen to his harangue with one ear and still use her brain to figure something out for the little boy. God, where was it all going to end? Imagine returning to the same place they’d started out from. She knew in her gut that God was punishing her and Cudge. But the little boy shouldn’t be punished. He hadn’t done anything. Cudge wasn’t going to hurt him, except over her dead body.
“Here we go—hold on now.” Deftly, Cudge maneuvered the truck around potholes as big as craters. “Son-of-a-bitch!” he exploded as he swerved to avoid one yawning hole only to hit another. His head hit the roof of the truck and Elva bounced almost as high. “Goddammit! I think the tire blew.” He shifted into neutral, opened the door and banged it shut. “Shit!”
“Did it blow?” Elva asked fearfully.
“Damn right it did. I don’t even know if I can get this rig out of here. Slide over, Elva, and gun it. I’ll push from here.”
Elva did as she was told. The rig jockeyed back and forth and then was free.
“Okay, we’re stopping right over there. There’s room to back the pop-up under the trees. If it rains, we’ll have some protection. I gotta put the spare on now before it gets too dark.”
Elva was out of the pickup like a whirlwind. “Let me help you. Where’s the spare, Cudge? And the toolbox? Just crank open the top and I’ll get it for you.”
“How come you’re so helpful all of a sudden? You want to help, get me a beer and then shut up.”
In her haste to pop open the beer can, Elva shook it and bubbles of foam shot up, soaking the front of her blouse. With shaking hands she held it out to Cudge, who grabbed it from her and consumed it in one swallow. “Gi
mme another and don’t shake it this time.”
He upended the second can, gulped down its contents in several noisy swallows, then tossed it into the brush. Before Elva knew what was happening, he had the spare tire off its rack on the rear of the pop-up. “If this ain’t one hell of a mess,” he said disgustedly. “I didn’t get the spare fixed the last time.”
Elva felt overwhelming relief. Now he wouldn’t open the pop-up.
“I’m gonna have to unhitch the rig and try to make it into the nearest town to get the tire fixed. What time is it, Elva?”
She shrugged and looked at the sky. “Must be after five, at least.”
“I suppose they roll up the sidewalks early, so I better get moving. I want some supper when I get back. That greasy hamburger wasn’t fit to eat. Help me unhook the camper.” Elva’s hands were shaking so badly, she was next to useless. “Get out of here! You ain’t no help at all. Okay, it’s off. Now look, me and you, we gotta have a talk. I don’t like the idea of leaving you here while I go into town, but I ain’t got no other choice. This is my rig, see, and I gotta take care of it. It’s all I got in the whole world—except for you, Elva. I want you to promise that you’ll be here cooking supper when I get back. I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour, two at the most.”
She’d promise anything as long as he left. “Okay, Cudge. I’ll be cooking supper when you get back. Where else can I go anyway? Don’t worry, just get the tire fixed and get back here. You know I don’t like the dark.”
“First, I have to get my tool kit out the camper.”
A drowning fear engulfed Elva. She couldn’t let him open the pop-up, not now. “Cudge, if the garage man sees you with your own tool kit, he ain’t gonna do nothin’ for you. You know how those guys are. He’s gonna think you couldn’t do it yourself, and you’re only going to him as a last resort because you botched up the job. You don’t like people making a fool out of you. You don’t need it.”
An ominous roll of thunder helped Cudge with his decision. He threw the spare tire into the back of the pickup and climbed behind the wheel.
Elva’s tongue was so thick she could only nod in farewell. Miracles—they did really happen, and at the oddest times. Somehow she just knew that roll of thunder had come from God.
She limped down the road, watching till the pickup hit the highway, then hobbled back to the pop-up, grasping at low branches for support along the way.
“Little boy, I’m going to let you out now. Can you hear me?” she gasped. Not waiting for a reply, she yanked viciously at the crank and lifted the top. The worn, khaki canvas unfolded like a flower. “Where are you? It’s so dark I can barely see you. Come on, little boy, I’ll help you.”
Davey wriggled out from his makeshift nest and slid down to the cardboard cartons. Elva quickly shoved them aside and reached for the boy. How wonderful he felt in her arms. He was okay. “You ain’t bleeding, are you, little boy?” she demanded as she gathered him to her.
Davey let himself be hugged and petted. He liked it. He liked this girl who talked to him and told him not to be afraid. She was as scared as he was; he could tell by the way her arms were shaking, even if she was holding him tight. “No, I’m not bleeding. I told you, I get shots so I don’t bleed. Can you call my aunt now and tell her to come and get me?” he asked hopefully.
“I ain’t got no cell phone. All I can do is give you a flashlight and something to eat. We’re real close to where your motor home was parked. You see those trees over there? That’s where you were camped. And just over there is where Len—I mean, that’s where we were parked. I think that if you go through the trees, you stand a better chance of finding the motor home than going to the highway. But you gotta get going. Cudge will be coming back pretty soon and I don’t want him to find you here. I know it’s scary in the dark. I hate the dark and don’t like to be by myself, but you’re gonna have to be brave. Do you think you can make it?”
She was hugging him so hard, Davey could barely breathe. With all his might, he pushed against her arms and gasped, “I think I can.” When she put him down he asked, “What’s your name? I have to know so I can tell my aunt how you helped me.”
“Brenda. Brenda Kopec. C’mon now, we have to get you ready and on your way. Cudge will be back soon. Are you hungry?”
“Starved,” Davey responded, with a weariness in his voice that made Elva clasp him to her again, squeezing and crooning softly. BJ’s little face floated before her eyes. An acrid smell wafted into her nostrils. Dried urine. Poor kid. She thought about all the times BJ had wet his pants because he was scared. And the beatings, the constant beatings. As if a thrashing could make a little kid stop wetting his pants. Poor little BJ.
A quick glance at the sky told her the rain would arrive shortly. And then what? Could the kid find his way in the rain? It would be cold, and he’d get soaked in minutes. God, what if he started to bleed in the rain? “Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day,” she crooned.
“Here we go, you sit down and eat. You gotta be quick, BJ, and get away from here before Cudge comes back.” Elva’s eyes were glazed and watery as she watched the little boy wolf down the cupcakes Cudge had just bought. Starved. BJ was always starved. He could stuff himself one minute and be looking for something else five minutes later. A bottomless pit was what BJ was. A bottomless pit who wet his pants when he was scared.
“Can I have something to drink?” Davey asked as he licked at his fingers.
“I saved my Coke for you. Drink it all, I’m not thirsty. It’s kind of watery now because all the ice melted.” Davey gulped and gulped until the watery Coke was all gone. Carefully, Elva pulled at the hem of her blouse and wiped at the cupcake crumbs around his mouth. “There now, your mouth is clean and no one will know you were snacking.”
Davey sat quietly on the step of the pop-up, trusting the woman to help him. So what if she called him BJ? Grown-ups made mistakes sometimes. Not all grown-ups; he corrected the thought and sucked in his cheeks. His mother never made mistakes. Thunder roared overhead and he flinched. If you think a thing through to the end, you won’t make a mistake. That’s what his mother always said. Lightning danced across the sky, bathing Elva’s face in eerie yellow light. Davey flinched again. Her eyes looked like Duffy’s in the dark, all bright and shiny.
He inched his way to the end of the step and waited, his eyes on the trees. The woods were dark and gloomy, like on the cartoons at Halloween. He wondered what time it was. When the lightning flashed he saw on his watch that it was close to six o’clock. Davey frowned.
Elva saw the little boy check the time. Jesus. She didn’t remember him being so smart, and where did he get a watch? A stolen watch would only get him another beating. BJ wouldn’t steal, though. Or would he? She looked around. It was darker now; she didn’t have time to worry about where he’d got the watch.
Davey held out his hand. “It’s raining, Brenda, what should we do?”
“Come on, get inside, and I’ll light the lantern. I have to get you ready to go even if it is raining. I don’t have an umbrella,” she said fretfully. “I don’t have a single thing that will keep you dry. I don’t want you to get sick, BJ. You know there’s no money for doctors.”
“Aunt Lorrie is a doctor,” Davey said helpfully. “If I can get to her, she’ll take care of me.”
“Sometimes you talk crazy, BJ. We don’t have an Aunt Lorrie, just an Aunt Stella and an Aunt Helen. Don’t you remember? There, the lantern is on. Isn’t this cozy, BJ? Just me and you. I hate the dark as much as you hate the beatings. I think I’d rather have a beating than be locked in a dark closet with the rats and roaches.”
Davey wondered if Brenda was making up a story so he wouldn’t think about Aunt Lorrie. But he didn’t want to be entertained. He just wanted to be out of here. He had to leave Brenda and the security of the pop-up, but first he had to get the flashlight she’d promised him. The one Mr. Sanders had given him was in his pocket, but he didn’t think the light wo
uld be big enough to find a way through the trees.
Rain pounded the canvas roof. “It’s raining hard, BJ. I don’t think you should go out. Stay here with me. I hate the dark,” Elva said, hugging her thin arms against her chest.
Davey felt confused. He didn’t understand. “If I stay here with you, the man will catch me. I thought you wanted to help me get away.”
It was Elva’s turn to be confused. “BJ,” she said patiently, “I’m supposed to take care of you, and I will. But you have to stay with me. I won’t let anything happen to you. Not again. The last time it was all a mistake. I won’t let that happen again.”
“I want to go back to Aunt Lorrie. She’s worried about me, I know she is. I want to go home.” He had an idea. “You can come with me, Brenda.”
“What time is it?” she demanded fearfully.
“The big hand is on the three and the little hand is on the six.”
Elva screwed her pinched features into a frown. “Quarter after six. God, Cudge will be back here any minute now. You have to get out of here fast.”
Davey didn’t like the way Brenda’s hands were shaking. He sighed. “I know. You said to go through the trees, right?”
“It’s raining so hard. Let me think. The rain will slow Cudge down and he won’t be able to see the holes in the road. Yes, through the trees. That way you won’t pass him on the road. Will you be afraid to go through the woods?”
Davey thought about her question. The road and the bad man, or the woods and the rain and the dark. “No, but I need that flashlight you promised me.”
A sob caught in Elva’s throat. She couldn’t let him go out alone in the dark and rain. God, she was tired, almost too tired to think. Where was Cudge? Probably in some bar. For a moment, the thought pleased her. If he was in a bar, he wouldn’t be coming through the door any second now. The kid was safe, for the moment. If he were in a bar, he would start off with beer and switch to boilermakers, and from there anything that came in a bottle. He would be good for a couple of hours. She and BJ were safe, for now.
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