THE LAST BOY

by ROBERT H. LIEBERMAN

  “Just the world around us.”Wally looked entranced.

  Rosie, still confined to bed, had theories of her own, and she called Molly about them during the course of the day.

  “As I see it,” Rosie explained. “Danny wasn’t kidnapped at all. And he didn’t just haphazardly wander off into the woods. If you examine all the evidence—”

  “You know you’re beginning to sound more and more like Tripoli.”

  “A cop?” she laughed.“That's an insult! Hey, maybe he's sounding more and more like me.” Molly could hear a toilet flush. Rosie was on her wireless phone, her voice fading in and out as she moved around. “Anyway,” she went on, breathing heavily, “I’m just basing my theory on facts.”

  “Like what?”

  “Just think about all the things you’ve been telling me, the incredible things Danny learned. Maybe…” she went on, getting carried away in her conjecture,“maybe Danny was chosen.”

  “Chosen for what?”

  “Something special. Like the Dalai Lama. To be like a leader. Or maybe to be some kind of wizard who can—”

  “Rosie, that kind of speculation just makes me nervous.”

  “I don’t see why.”

  “I’ll tell you why.”And finally, she told Rosie about Danny talking about being home only for a visit, about the sounds outside her trailer that night.

  “Oh.…That would make me jumpy, too. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I was just thinking about the positive side of things.”

  “And it's like everybody wants a piece of Danny.”

  “Whatta you mean?”

  “I don’t know. They just want to be around him. Talk to him. Wally Schuman was just here. I let him spend some time with Danny and the guy came away mesmerized. Everybody's so—”

  “Well, Danny is unusual. And what's happened to him, well you’ve got to admit—”

  “There's nothing to admit! I just want people to leave us alone.”

  “I didn’t mean to call so much. I’m—”

  “No. No! Not you, Rosie. Never you. I mean other people.”

  Tripoli stopped at the trailer while Molly was getting Danny ready for bed. He had been in the neighborhood following up a report on a burglary and thought he’d just say hello. Or that's the explanation that he had prepared if Molly was going to put him on the spot. He tried not to think of himself as being marginalized since Danny's return, but what could you expect? he told himself. She and her boy needed time to get to know each other again. And though their relationship might never be quite the same, he hoped she would begin to miss him the way he ached for her.

  “Come on in. It's open,” she called through the bathroom window. He could hear water running in the tub. “I’m just fixing Danny's bath. I’ll be right out.”

  Tripoli patiently waited in the living room as the windows in the trailer began to steam up; finally he opened a couple to let in the fresh air. He paced up and down the single hallway. He took a glass of water and drank it slowly.

  Five minutes later Molly emerged, the fine hairs at the nape of her neck and temples damp and sticking to her skin. She was carrying a handful of bath toys.“Got any use for these?” she asked, holding them out. She was wearing a tank top and skimpy cut-offs, which he found appealing.

  “I’ve got plenty of boats,” he said with a laugh, “But I could probably use this duck,” he picked it up and squeezed it, eliciting a quack.“Yeah, this is perfect.” He gave Molly a kiss on the cheek. He was moving in for a longer, more serious kiss and could feel her pull back slightly.

  “What's the matter?” he asked, looking offended.

  “Nothing,” she said.“Give me a second, and let me dump these.” She tossed the wet toys into the kitchen sink.“Danny tells me he's too grown up for nonsense like this. If he's going to have ducks, they’ve got to be real ones. And his latest pronouncement? He doesn’t want me calling him Danny anymore. Now he's Daniel.” She rolled her eyes heavenward.

  The door to the bathroom was open and Tripoli could hear the boy splashing and churning around in the tub.

  “Swimming lessons,” she said with a toss of her head.

  “Come here,” he said and stood his ground, waiting.

  “What is this?” she asked.“A test?”

  “Of course it is. I want to know if you still remember me.”

  “Oh, poor Trip. Have I been neglecting you?” She came over, wrapped her arms around his neck and planted her mouth on his. “Well, better?” she asked.

  He licked his lips and smiled.“A little better.”

  “Want a glass of wine?” She was already moving towards the fridge. “I’ve got an open bottle of white.”

  “Theoretically I’m still on duty,” he said,“but…what the hell!”

  “We were given a case of Swedish Hill at the magazine.” Molly hunted through the fridge. “We carried this story on local wines, and they…Oh, here it is.”

  She poured him a glass. He took a sip and let it roll around his palate.“Hmmm,” he said, thoughtfully smacking his lips.“Not bad. Not too dry. Not too fruity. A little outspoken, but—”

  Molly poked playfully at his ribs. “Larry tells us we’ve got our principles. We can’t be bought. At least not with money. Quality wine apparently is a different story…” She filled her own glass and took a sip. “So, Mr. Policeman, howya doing?” She glanced in the direction of the bathroom, then came again close to Tripoli, pressed her hips tight against him and kissed him long and hard.“Mmmm,” she hummed appreciatively, her mouth moving on his.

  He couldn’t help himself and quickly had his hands all over her. “Ooooh…nice.…Has anybody ever told you what a gorgeous ass you’ve got?” he whispered conspiratorially, tracing its curve from the small of her back to her thighs.

  “It's been mentioned, I think,” she said, sliding in yet tighter to him. She ran her hands over his chest. Through his clothes she could feel his muscles ripple.

  Tripoli took a long drink. He could feel it warming his insides as he moved back and forth against her. His heart was thumping and his mind was racing. Where? How? “What time does Danny go to sleep?” he asked hoarsely.

  Suddenly she stiffened. Then went pale.

  “Wait!” she said, pushing him back.

  “Huh? What's the matter?”

  “It's too quiet!” She cocked an ear.

  Immediately, he realized it, too. There hadn’t been a solitary sound from the bathroom in minutes.

  Molly scrambled toward the bathroom and Tripoli was right behind her. When she reached the door, she let out an agonized scream.“Oh God!” she cried.

  Danny was lying submerged on the bottom of the tub, motionless. Through the soapy water, Tripoli could make out the boy's features. They were totally slack and he looked unconscious. Pushing past Molly, Tripoli plunged his arms into the water and took hold of Danny. His body was completely limp, and in a flash Tripoli had him sprawled out on the bathroom floor and was prying open his jaw when Danny eyes fluttered open and he looked up.

  “What's the matter?” he asked as he sat up, water dripping off him.

  “Jesus, Danny!” gasped Molly standing in the puddle, both relieved and furious. “You scared the living daylights out of us!”

  “I’m sorry,” chirped Danny.

  “Sorry?”

  “I was just practicing.”

  “Practicing?” echoed Tripoli. He was still breathing hard, and his shirt and shoes were soaked.

  “To hold my breath,” Danny explained as he climbed back into the tub.“I’m okay. I can do it. Watch!”

  The two watched as Danny, crossing his arms, slid again under the sudsy surface.

  They gaped into the tub as he lay there on the bottom. He remained there motionless and continued to stay there. At first just a minute. Then what seemed another full minute. Little bubbles formed at his nostrils.

  “Holy shit!” uttered Tripoli under his breath.

  “That's enough!” cried Molly
finally, plunging her hands into the water and pulling him up. “Okay, enough, Daniel, Honey,” she called out loudly. “You don’t want to give Mommy—I mean your Mother—a heart attack, now do you?”

  chapter eleven

  “You’ll like it at our new office,” said Molly as she helped Danny fill his backpack with crayons and paper and packages of clay.

  A full week had passed since Danny's return and Molly felt there was no way she could postpone going back to work. But there was also no way in the world that she was going to leave Danny out of her sight—not with that crazy man on the loose.

  “Can I take these books, too?” he asked.

  “Sure. Let's see if we can fit them in.”

  He seemed curious and eager to accompany her to work.

  “And Ben and Sandy—you remember them?—they’re all excited about seeing you again.” She kept up a constant babble as they drove down Route 13, and for once he didn’t complain about getting into a car.

  Giving Tasha at the front desk a wave, she took Danny by the hand and led him directly into her office.“Big, huh?” she asked.

  “Yup,” he said, looking around. His eyes went right for the window.

  “And it's all ours.” She bent over and nuzzled his neck. Straightening up, Molly flipped on the overhead fluorescents and went to her desk. Awaiting her was an intimidating heap of mail and papers nearly a foot high. Her heart began to sink. It would take her days merely to organize and look through this morass.

  She hurriedly fingered through the pile.“I leave and everything grinds to a major halt,” she muttered in frustration.“Just look at this mess!” In the neighboring copy room, the Xerox came on with a high-pitched whine. Then it started clanking through copies, shaking the floor.

  Danny, who was standing with his backpack still strapped to his shoulders, watched as his mother marched into the outer office.

  “Tasha,” she called out, waving a bunch of envelopes. “Doesn’t anybody believe in opening the mail? Look at this. These are checks. Money. From advertisers. New subscriptions. And here's a second notice from the electric company. You want them to cut the power?”

  “But nobody told me to open the mail.”

  Molly resisted the urge to say something, just shook her head and strode back into her office.

  “Oh, there you are,” she said with a laugh, seeing Danny still waiting.“You think your mother forgot you, right?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, quietly.

  “Of course not! Come on, let's take care of first things first. And that means you. Let's get you set up.” She cleared off a small table, fetched a chair from the waiting room, and started helping Danny unpack. The phone rang. It was the outfit that did the color separations. Someone had sent them the wrong cover photo. As she helped Danny unpack, Molly kept talking, using a shoulder to pin the phone against her ear.“Look what nice crayons Rosie got you,” she whispered to him.“You’ve got every color under the sun. And take a look at these books!”

  After she hung up, she scribbled a reminder on a Post-It and stuck it to her computer screen. Then another.

  Danny hung back.

  “Come on, Sweetie, let's take off this jacket. It's hot in here.” He obeyed and shed his jacket.“Now, why don’t you sit over here.” She patted the chair.

  Danny came over and sat down.

  The office seemed to Molly more tumultuous than ever: the copier spitting out pages, Larry's TV blasting away, the phones and faxes hissing and beeping. And the place smelled, too, of carpets and cleaners and electronic machines—her senses heightened by apprehensiveness.

  “I know it's noisy out there,” she said, “but in here it's kind of cozy, isn’t it?” she asked, worriedly.

  “I suppose so.”Though he managed a sweet smile, his voice was flat. She feared a repeat of the scene at the mall. But Danny seemed as if he could handle it, and Molly decided it was best not to fuss over him too much.

  “Would you like to read or make some pictures first?”

  “What would you like me to do?” he asked.

  Finally, she got him drawing. He worked on a picture, but kept stopping, his gaze drifting toward the window.

  Turning on her computer, Molly held her breath as the whining hard disk gathered speed. Danny looked over in her direction. Their eyes met briefly; then he turned and went back to his picture. She silently exhaled.

  But she had hardly started work when Sandy dropped in. “I’ve been dying to say hello to Danny!”

  Then there was Ben.

  “Hey watcha drawing? Well, look at this!” Danny had drawn a small person encased in a tight, vice-like box, arms pressing against the confining walls. “Whew, looks like we’ve got another Edvard Munch in the making,” he said, trying to laugh it off.

  “Would you like a lollipop?” asked Sandy ten minutes later, waving a big, red, cherry-flavored pop. Danny accepted it with a smile, took a lick, and then, when Sandy was gone, laid the sticky candy on his desk.

  Maybe, if everybody just left him alone, thought Molly. The staff, however, kept finding excuses to drop in.

  “This is getting to be like Grand Central Station,” she said when Tasha found an excuse to stop in for the third time. “Come on, you’ve got work to do and so do I.”

  “Sorry,” said Tasha. “I just can’t help myself. He's so sweet that you just want to be around him, and—”

  “Well, let me help you,” said Molly, leading the girl out and finally closing the door.

  “Back to work,” she said, pointing at Danny who was watching her.“You do yours. I do mine.”

  Dutifully, Danny picked up a book. He started to read, but a minute later it lay forgotten in his lap as he stared blankly out into space. The color had drained from his face, and he was beginning to look ill.

  “You okay, Honey?” She stooped behind him and draped her arm around his shoulder.

  “What?” he said without even turning. He seemed in a daze.

  Molly tried to focus on her work, but the presence of Danny's silence was unnerving.

  Later in the morning, Larry dropped by. He was surprised to see Danny in the office.

  “Hi Danny,” he said, but his eyes were on Molly, and she could read the look on his face: was this just a visit or was she thinking of keeping Danny here as a regular fixture?

  “Where are we on those proofs?” he asked, swinging by once more shortly before lunch. Again she sensed that he was checking up on her.

  “You must be joking, Larry. I’m still missing some of the stories.”

  “Well, we’ve got to get cracking.” Leaning against the wall, he drummed his fingers on the door. “Yeah, yeah. I know,” he smiled, catching himself. “It's only the first day back. Well,” he said throwing up his hands,“it just goes to show. Without you, things just don’t function.” He turned to Danny. “Hey kiddo, no more disappearing acts, please. You’ll destroy my magazine.”Then he laughed—a little too loudly, Molly thought.

  “Huh?” said Danny, shaken from his reverie.

  Molly laughed. “Larry's just making a joke,” she explained.

  “Oh…” said Danny and gave a small, polite chuckle.

  Tripoli decided to divide up the county between Sisler and himself. He would scour the outlying areas of the southern and eastern townships, and Sisler would cover the rest. It would take them at least a few days to do a cursory search, but it seemed time well invested. The chief, together with the mayor and the press, were still yapping at his heels. And Molly would never have any peace until the old Hermit was under lock and key. Then, too, there was his own intense curiosity.

  “I don’t get it,” said Sisler, leaning over Tripoli's desk to get a closer look at the contoured map. Shaded in red were all the areas that were uninhabited or heavily wooded. It included the state forests in Caroline, Danby, Dryden, Newfield, the vast Hector Land Use area, the Connecticut Hill Wildlife Management Area, as well as a number of abandoned farms. There was more land out there
than a person could walk around in a year. And steep hills. Tons of them. “What are we supposed to do? Climb mountains and become marathon walkers?”

  “Talk to people—the folks who live on the edge of these areas,” Tripoli encircled the marked dwellings with his finger. “Maybe they’ve seen the old guy. Or noticed something unusual in the woods. This isn’t Christ walking on water. He eats and shits like everybody else, and he can’t exist without leaving a trace. Wherever he is, he's near livestock. Sheep for sure. Goats. They make noise. Goats eat every fucking thing in sight. Leave droppings. And we know he's got a fire.”

  Sisler looked a little overwhelmed. “Why don’t we just at least stick to the south? That's where the kid says he went.”

  “He could be trying to throw us off.”

  “That little boy?”

  “He may be little, but he's not stupid.”

  “But look at all this area!” complained Sisler with a plaintive whine.

  “All right, all right, I’m taking the lion's share. I’ll even cover Connecticut Hill since I live out there. All you’ve got to do is…”

  Molly took Danny outside for lunch.

  As soon as they were out on the street, Danny sprang back to life. There was a hop in his gait and his cheeks were pink. Molly picked up a couple of vegetarian pitas on the Commons, and they went over to the green that was Dewitt Park and sat in the cool shade under a broad oak and ate.

  “It's much better here,” said Danny chewing eagerly.“And this is yummy, too.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  A puppy came by and jumped right into Danny's lap. He wrapped his arms around the squirming puppy's neck and giggled as the puppy swept his face with its long, wet tongue.

  “Maybe…” he ventured later as they relaxed on the lawn, a beseeching look in his eyes, “…maybe we can just stay out here instead of going back?”

  “In this world you don’t make money sitting under a tree and munching sandwiches.”

  “It was just an idea,” he said backing off.

  “Oh, Sweetie,” she uttered, and kissed him on lips that tasted of balsamic vinegar.