Roll Them Bones

by Wilson, David

  “Neither can I,” Jason said. “You saw that this morning. They both turned to watch Frank, who was sipping his coffee, eyes on the floor and brow furrowed.

  “I don’t like it,” Frank said. “I didn’t like it when I was a kid, but I was too small to do anything about it. That isn’t true anymore, and I just don’t know if I want to go off into those woods again, just because Ronnie says we have to.”

  “We’re asking you,” Jason pointed out, “not Ronnie. You haven’t even seen him yet.”

  “Besides,” Lizzy said, almost giggling suddenly, “he didn’t ask, he just said he’d be back here after lunch.”

  “Just like always,” Frank muttered.

  “Hell,” Jason laughed suddenly, “when was the last time you went camping in a real woods, Frankie? I bet about as long as it’s been since anyone called you ‘Frankie.’”

  They all laughed at that, and as the rest of the coffee disappeared slowly, they shifted subjects, letting the evening to come hang in its own dark limbo. None of them mentioned it again, but as the day wore on, it hung over them like a pall.

  ~ * ~

  The road was rough, and being seated in the bed of Ronnie’s truck didn’t help things as the corrugated bed pounded into Jason and Frank’s backsides. Lizzy had slipped into the front, beside Ronnie, pressed so tightly to the passenger side door she looked as if she might press it open and pop out onto the road.

  Jason watched the line of houses retreating behind them, dwindling slowly as they drove away from Random’s main street. The Jack-o-lanterns would be lit in a few hours, when the sun faded, and the kids already bustled about in their yards, putting up scarecrows and preparing for the following evening’s festivities. Jason smiled despite it all.

  Random still had the untouched charm that had formed their childhood. Not too many outof-towners stopped through, and even fewer on a holiday. It was a town where you could let your kids wander the streets in search of candy and treats and not worry they’d come back with razor-blade spiked apples.

  The bottom line was, he’d come home, and after all the years and the nightmares, he realized he’d missed it.

  He turned to Frank and tugged his friend’s shirtsleeve. “Hasn’t changed much.”

  Frank glanced at him distractedly. “Huh?” he shouted, cupping his hand to his ear. The wind nearly snatched his glasses from his nose and he held them in place with his free hand, suddenly annoyed.

  It was too comical. Jason burst out laughing and slapped Frank on the thigh.

  “Never mind!” he shouted.

  Frank eyed him for a moment, then grinned in return. It was just like the old days, and Jason felt a warmth he hadn’t in many years.

  Then Ronnie slowed and pulled to the side of the road with a lurch, slamming Jason into Frank and leaving them both in a disheveled heap in the truck bed, tangled in tents and sleeping bags and banging painfully into the side of the truck.

  The driver’s door slammed, and Ronnie was suddenly leaning in and grinning over the edge of the truck bed.

  “Forgot you girls wouldn’t have been in a truck for a while. Sorry about that.”

  Frank glared at Ronnie silently, and Jason extricated himself, sitting up and rubbing his arm ruefully.

  “If I didn’t know better,” Jason said, “I’d think you were trying to hurt someone, Ronnie.”

  His words were greeted by silence that grew thicker by the moment, then Ronnie reached out a hand slowly.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

  Jason watched him carefully, then took the hand and pulled himself to his feet. Ronnie’s grip was firm, but not painful, as Jason had feared. Once he was on his feet, he reached back and helped Frank up as well, and the two slid over the side of the truck bed and down to the ground. Lizzy came timidly around the tailgate to stand close beside Jason.

  Trees lined the road on both sides, and the sun had dropped slightly, elongating the shadows and sending them creeping across the road. The air was cool, not cold, but cooler than Jason would have liked, and he pulled his shirt collar a bit tighter, staring into the trees.

  “You sure this is the place?” he asked, knowing it was a stupid question, but hating the silence.”

  “You know it is, Jason,” Ronnie grunted, grabbing his pack in one hand and one of the tents in the other. He dropped the tent and slipped the pack onto his shoulders easily. “You’ve been here enough times. A little easier in a truck than it was on bicycles, but this is the place alright.” He fell silent, turning toward the trees and staring into the distance. “We’d better get going. If we want to pitch camp and get a fire going before it gets dark, we don’t have much time.”

  Jason and Frank helped one another with their packs, and Jason slipped Lizzy’s smaller load in place gently.

  “After last night,” Ronnie said, glancing at Jason and Lizzy with a grin, “I decided to bring that extra tent. My first thought was we’d all share one big one…safer that way. Guess me and Frank will have to rough it alone.”

  Frank looked a little uneasy at this, but Ronnie placed one huge hand gently on his shoulder, and the moment passed.

  “I’m not that boy anymore,” Ronnie said softly. “Hope you’ll know that before this is over.”

  He turned, with those words, and started into the woods. The others grabbed what was left of their gear and supplies and hurried to catch up, leaving the truck, and the road, behind.

  They walked in silence. None of them wanted to be the one to broach the subject of what was to come, and it was enough, for the moment, to lose themselves in the memories of a childhood long faded to nightmare.

  Jason felt the chill of the air slipping away as he warmed to the effort of keeping up with Ronnie’s pace. The leaves had all turned, half of them fallen to carpet the forest floor and the rest a glittering panorama of color overhead. Maples, oaks, scattered Hickory trees with their nuts scattered. There were acorns and walnuts.

  “Jesus,” Jason whispered to himself. He tried to remember the last time he’d had a walnut, or a persimmon. Even a Hickory nut. What had happened to his past?

  Stumbling a little, he leaned to the ground and grabbed a handful of the dark, rough-shelled nuts. Frank caught him at it, and did the same with a sheepish grin. There was a camaraderie in that shared moment that warmed Jason’s heart. Crazy as the whole “adventure” was, he was beginning to enjoy himself.

  “This is about as far as we can get tonight,” Ronnie said at last, dropping his pack suddenly in a reasonably flat, clear area and flopping onto a fallen log. “It’ll still take most of tomorrow, at this pace, to get there. Best to make camp while we have a little bit of light left.”

  Jason dropped his pack and looked around. He wanted to sit, as Ronnie had done, but he was tired, and he knew it would be best to get whatever work was left ahead of him done first.

  Frank and Lizzy had no such problem. They flopped where they stood, packs slipping off behind them. Lizzy lay back over her pack with a long sigh, stretching. Jason was riveted by that image, just for a moment, long, cat-stretch and quick smile as she caught him staring.

  Ronnie had opened his pack and pulled out a fifth of Jack Daniels. He unscrewed the top and took a swig, watching the others quietly.

  “Never thought I’d say it,” he said moments later. “Missed you three. Hell, there wasn’t anyone else here the whole time I was growing up I cared to see again. Almost everyone left. Jeb Hutchinson is still around, running his dad’s garage. Emily Jacobs is working over at the library, and Helen Powers grew up to teach at the school. Got kids bussing in from all over now. Not just Ransom kids any more. Helen did real good.”

  Something in Ronnie’s voice when he mentioned Helen’s name made Jason turn and watch the man carefully. Had there been a tinge more than admiration in those words?

  “What about Madge Johnson?” Frank asked.

  “She found that Doctor she always wanted,” Ronnie laughed, “and high
tailed it out of here. Most everyone we knew did the same. Not much in Ransom to hold a person…” his voice softened, “except Ransom.” Ronnie took another swig of the whiskey and tossed the bottle to Jason without a word.

  Jason caught it, ready this time, remembering the beer bottle projectile of the night before.

  “They got Jack in New York?” Ronnie asked, grinning.

  Jason didn’t answer. He unscrewed the top, took a long slug, and slipped top back on easily, handing the bottle absently to Frank.

  “That,” he said with a laugh, “is a stupid question. I think the first bottle to cross the counter of every respectable liquor store in America is Jack.”

  Ronnie frowned. “You callin’ me stupid?” His brow furrowed, and he started up off the log suddenly.

  Jason froze in place, and Frank backed up a step, holding the bottle up in front of him like a glittering shield.

  Ronnie glared at them, then his face crumbled, his hands hit his thighs, and he fell back on his ass, laughing. Tears streamed from his eyes, and he could barely catch his breath.

  Frank stared, nearly dropping the Jack Daniels bottle. Jason stepped away, as if from a crazy person. Lizzy remained curled in a ball, waiting to see what would happen, and if she should run.

  Ronnie paid no attention to any of them. He was fighting back the laughter, failing, and rolling onto his side, hand clutched to his stomach.

  Jason walked closer, hands on his hips. Taking a leap he never would have as a child, he brought his boot up and slapped it into Ronnie’s ass smartly.

  “Fuck you,” he said, trying not to laugh.

  Ronnie gained a bit of his senses and rolled to a sitting position, wiping his eyes.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Damn, just wanted to see if I could get a rise out of you.” He sat still for a moment, then continued more calmly. “Been a long time since I laughed like that,” he said. “Too long.”

  Standing, he dusted off his jeans and reached for one of the tents with a grin.

  Frank was still standing, bottle held at the ready, as if he didn’t trust the laughter. His brow was furrowed, and when Jason turned and caught that expression, his heart chilled for an instant. It didn’t look like the Frank he knew at all. Someone else stared through those eyes. Someone cold, and calculating. The bottle suddenly looked less silly in context.

  “You gonna help with these?” Jason asked, grabbing the second tent and shaking it at Frank.

  The mood broke, and Frank lowered the bottle to the ground, suddenly grinning.

  “Yeah, if I can figure out what to do with it,” he replied. “Been a long time, Jason.”

  Ronnie was still chuckling as he spread the first of the two dome tents on the ground and began to pound in the stakes. Lizzy had risen, slowly, and moved off into the woods quietly. Jason almost started after her, then let it go. Moments later he smiled as she returned with a small pile of wood in her arms. She was tougher than she looked, and Jason caught a crooked half smile aimed his way as she made her way to the center of the little clearing and started to set the fire.

  The tents were up pretty quickly, despite Frank and Jason’s lack of recent experience. Modern technology came to the rescue in the form of flexible tubes that served as poles, running through loops sewn to the skin of the tent. There was still the red hint of sunlight glittering through the uppermost branches of the trees when they sat back, satisfied they were prepared for the coming night.

  Lizzy had the fire blazing, circled with carefully stacked rocks to prevent any spreading of coals or sparks. None of them questioned the extra effort. Just having the fire was enough to keep them all on edge, necessary as it was.

  Ronnie had pulled the fallen log he’d first sat on closer, making a sort of backrest. He and Frank were leaned against it comfortably, staring into the fire. Jason was sitting on the far side, Lizzy pulled back into his lap and wrapped in his arms. They had a pile of sleeping bags and back-packs propped behind them. The bottle of Jack had made several rounds, and they’d made a quick meal of hot dogs and pudding cups. None of it mixed well with the whiskey, but nobody complained.

  Lizzy had made a small pot of hot water and brewed tea. She shied away each time the bottle was passed her way, and no one asked why. No one needed to. None of them had stayed in as close contact as they’d have liked, but all of them knew about her ex-husband Richard. They sipped the whiskey, and she cupped her hands tightly around her tea, ignoring it. For the moment, it was comfortable.

  “I reckon it’s time,” Ronnie said at last, “that we talked about why we’re here.”

  No one answered.

  He watched them all, taking a long slug off the bottle. “I figured it wasn’t going to be easy, so I gave it some thought. Don’t’ you laugh!” He suddenly turned to Jason, scowled, then laughed himself.

  Jason laughed with him, more easily this time, and even Frank gave a dry chuckle.

  “I was thinking,” Ronnie went on, “that we should just tell the story. Every bit of it we remember. Take turns, you know? We could start right from the beginning, and we ought to have enough of this,” he held up the bottle, “to get through it all tonight. Maybe we’ll see something we forgot. Maybe one of you saw something I missed; maybe I saw something. We never talked about it then.” Jason stared into the fire. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to walk that way again, but at least he wasn’t asleep. At least it wasn’t a dream and there was no chance the others would be crawling, piles of animated ash, from the pit of the fire. At least he might make it to the end without waking in a puddle of his own sweat. He hugged Lizzy tightly and replied slowly.

  “I’m up for it, if everyone agrees. I’d kind of like to get the whole thing straight in my head too.”

  Lizzy leaned against him, closed her eyes and nodded, saying nothing. Only Frank waited. He was staring fixedly into the flames. His hands shook, and his lip quivered slightly.

  In the distance, a “hoot owl” let out a quick, mournful cry. Frank glanced up just then, eyes wide.

  “I’ll try,” he said. “I’ve written this story again and again, you know? Twisted and turned it every which way, but that was different. When I write, I can control it. The beginning, and the ending. I can make the story up, and it’s okay.”

  He fell silent, tossing another stick onto the fire and watching the sparks leap into the air. “Don’t know if I’m any good at telling the truth.”

  “If you don’t have any problem with it,” Ronnie said, handing the bottle to Jason, “I’ll start.”

  As Frank continued to feed logs into the fire, Jason wrapped Lizzy just a little tighter and leaned back, closing his eyes. Ronnie’s strong, powerful voice cut through the night. The years rolled back, and it was Halloween night. They were on their way to see the witch.

  THREE

  “I remember the way that firelight danced through the trees as we got closer,” Ronnie began. “I think I saw it flickering from almost a mile away. Didn’t think much of it at first, but after a while it started to bother me—like the shadows were alive and moving.”

  Lizzy was nodding, and Jason pulled her back against him. Frank watched Ronnie, who had let his head fall back so he could stare at the stars through the patchwork of branches overhead. If he looked at it just right, the moonlight filtering down reminded him of the light of that other fire, that other, darker place, so far in the past. Jason closed his eyes and listened, letting the years slip away - remembering.

  The trees grew sparser as they approached her cabin. Old Tara hadn’t cleared them. Jason’s father had said they died, shriveled and shrunk away from that place. The leaves fell quickly near that clearing, leaving nothing to shield their approach.

  “I see her fire,” Ronnie said softly.

  They all saw the fire. They’d seen it for a long time, flickering and dancing in the distance, like a giant will-o'-the-wisp.

  “I don’t see why we have to go there,” Lizzy said, stopping in her tracks. “My dad says she’s
crazy.”

  “So what’s to worry about with a crazy old lady?” Ronnie snapped. The tension was a bit more evident in his voice than he’d intended. “I want to know if she’s really a witch. It’s Halloween for Christ’s sake.”

  “What if she is,” Frank asked. He had stopped too, but he didn’t look reluctant to go on. He looked fascinated. Jason shook his head.

  “This whole thing is crazy. We’re just asking for trouble.”

  Ronnie turned very suddenly and grabbed Jason by the shirt.

  “You already got trouble if you don’t cut the crap and come on. We’re doing this. We decided already, and we’re here.”

  Jason wanted to explain that only Ronnie had decided, but he kept his mouth shut, and the grip on his shirt relaxed.

  “Now come on, and keep quiet,” Ronnie growled, heading off through the trees toward the firelight.

  They all moved in behind the larger boy. Jason saw that Lizzy was near tears, and he moved up a little closer behind her. Frank brought up the rear, a little too eagerly for Jason’s taste.

  “Shhh,” Ronnie called back, waving his hand at them. “I think I hear her.”

  They all stood very still. At first, there was nothing but the breeze sifting through the branches overhead, but then Jason heard it, and he could tell by the sudden stiffening of her shoulders that Lizzy heard it too.

  “What is that?” Lizzy whispered.

  “It’s her, that’s what,” Frank answered. His voice wavered, but he was obviously excited.

  “Who is she talking to?” Lizzy asked softly.

  “Not talking,” Frank answered with authority. “Chanting.”

  Nobody questioned Frank, but Ronnie started forward again, more slowly. The firelight, moments before a dim flicker in the distance, had become a glow, haloing the stark, leafless trees like an army of silent giants. Shadows danced around the base of each tree as the flames flickered. Ronnie moved as though mesmerized. His steps were slow and even, but he kept banging his shoulder on the trees, and more than once a root threatened to send him sprawling.