The Boy Must Die

by Jon Redfern

  “Hand me your forms, please. Quick,” Randy said. “That’s Margie,” he said. “She’s an old friend.” He sounded relieved and got out of the van as Sam Heavy Hand drew up into a parking space beside the customs house, leapt from the cab, and lit a cigarette. Margie shook hands with Sam, and then Randy handed her the forms the crew had filled out. She put them on a shelf inside the customs house, came out again, and walked with Randy to the back of the van. Justin could hear Randy and the woman talking and laughing. Sam climbed back into his half-ton. Justin thought the way he did this was odd, as if he were trying to be quiet, or as if he did not want people to notice him. All the while, his mask-like face watched Randy’s every move and gesture.

  The back door of the van was opened.

  “It’s all in order, Margie,” Randy said.

  The woman shone a flashlight over the tools and the metal lunch container. She walked around to the side of the van, slid open the door, bent down, and inspected the floor. “Looks good, prof,” she said. “Can you lift up the back for me?”

  “Justin, come and lend me a hand.”

  Justin opened the door and felt a rush of cool air. He went around beside Randy, and they lifted out the tools, then peeled up the rubber matting that lay over the metal floor of the van. In its centre was the spare tire. Margie leaned in with her flashlight. The beam illuminated the tire and what appeared to be packets of black plastic garbage bags. Justin couldn’t recall seeing those earlier. He looked at Randy. Randy shoved his hands into his pockets in what seemed to Justin a forced gesture.

  “I keep extra bags in there for earth samples and, if need be, extra storage if we get lucky finding larger artifacts. Good place to store the bags, out of the way.”

  “Okay, prof,” Margie said and clicked off her flashlight.

  Justin and Randy reached into the van and pulled the rubber matting back over the tire and the metal floor. Randy was breathing heavily, as if he’d just climbed up the plateau at Chief Mountain. He flashed a quick nervous smile at Justin. “Thanks, Justin. You get back to your seat. Cara and Dave, Margie and I’ll be a few minutes going over your forms. Then we’ll be on our way.”

  Back in his seat, Justin slid down and put his head against the window.

  “You tired?” asked Cara.

  “Beat.”

  When Randy returned to the van, he climbed in and gave a couple of quick honks of the horn as if he were signalling to Sam sitting in his half-ton. Both men started their engines. Margie waved from the porch of the customs house as Randy backed out, honked again, and veered onto the two-lane. Sam Heavy Hand turned his headlights to high beam and followed Randy down the highway, away from the border crossing and towards Waterton Lakes on the Canadian side. “No problems,” Randy announced to the crew. “Margie told me our American friends signed off early because of the lack of traffic.”

  “Is that legal?” asked David Home.

  “They make their own rules, it seems,” said Randy.

  Justin drifted into his own thoughts again, turning his mind away from the day and Randy’s behaviour over the last half hour. Leaning against the window, he rarely took his eyes off the landscape. Traffic was light — only one car drove past on its way to Montana. Justin nodded off to sleep but awoke a minute later as the van pulled over to the shoulder of the road. He heard wild honking. He sat up. Cara Simonds was pointing to Sam Heavy Hand’s half-ton screeching to a halt only inches away from the back door of the van. The sounds of doors slamming and feet crunching on gravel filled the van, and Justin pressed closer to the window. He was beginning to feel uneasy, a result of hunger and fatigue and a touch of car sickness. He watched Sam run towards Randy on the shoulder of the road. Sam was whooping and waving his arms. In the glare of the half-ton’s high beams, Sam grabbed Randy and danced with him, arms held aloft. It was the first time on the trip that Sam smiled; he flung his reflecting sunglasses into the air. Randy tried to break free. He kept saying “Quiet down, Sam.” After a while, the two men separated. Sam climbed into his half-ton, brought out a two-four of Coors Lights, and carried it in his left hand towards the van, swinging the box as if it were light as a pillow. He yanked the door of the van open.

  “You sleepy heads want a beer?”

  “Sure,” said David Home meekly.

  “No thanks,” said Cara. “Shouldn’t we be on our way? I need a shower, and I’m. . . .”

  Sam broke into a laugh. He raised a foaming beer can to his mouth and drank heavily. Justin couldn’t understand why Randy and Sam had changed so suddenly. It was as if the end of the day were a cause for celebration. Sam’s elation, especially, showed the two men had somehow released the tension the crew had seen between them earlier. But Justin decided not to think about it further. He had his own fears and plans. Though he was puzzled by the black garbage bags in the back of the van, around the spare tire, he wanted only dinner and a bed.

  When they began moving again, Justin fell into a short sleep. He awoke to find himself sailing past the sparkling waters of Waterton Lakes, the rising moon turning the emerald water a deep, secretive black. The crew unloaded at the cabin around eight o’clock. The cawing of crows filled the air. Busy clouds of gnats flurried over the damp brush of fragrant cow parsnip. Justin helped Randy put the tools in the small shed. His professor was drinking a Coors, and Sam Heavy Hand was inside the cabin knocking about the kitchen, clattering glasses, and singing. Cara looked upset.

  Tired and with a headache coming on, Justin turned away from her and went into the kitchen, past the living room, and into his small bedroom. After he pulled off his dusty clothes, he wrapped himself in a towel and headed to the bathroom. He knew he’d have to be quick and conserve hot water, so he dampened a cloth, rubbed his face and underarms, slapped on aftershave, and went back to his room, all the while thinking about Karen and Cara and Yianni.

  Later, Justin joined Cara and David, who were standing by the door watching Randy and Sam drink and talk loudly in the kitchen.

  “You hungry?” asked Cara.

  Justin came up beside her and was about to apologize for rushing away earlier. Then he saw Randy stumble to the doorway. He was drunk, his eyes narrow and watery. Sam Heavy Hand was smoking and whistling by the sink.

  “Why don’t you kids go on downtown for a while?” said Randy. “Go and get yourselves a burger at Frank’s Café. No use having to cook tonight when you’re tuckered out.”

  “Yeah, get the hell out,” said Sam, his voice heavy with beer. “Go and have some fun.”

  Justin looked at Cara and David. He could see they were tired.

  “You go ahead,” Randy said. “Do what Sam says and have some fun. We’ve got some planning to do for tomorrow. We’ll scratch up some dinner here.”

  Sam broke into a hoarse laugh. Randy said nothing else, and after a second he walked into the kitchen and started talking to Sam as if the three members of his crew had simply evaporated.

  “What do you think?” asked Justin.

  Cara shrugged. David’s face turned grey. His whole body looked limp with fatigue, but he shrugged, too. The three of them picked up their wallets, left by the side door, and headed down to Main Street, crossing over a small bridge onto a road that led through tents and trailers parked under fir trees for the night.

  Yellow light illuminated the main street. The evening also brought with it the noise of cars and tourists talking and strolling by the restaurants and gift shops. This was the first time Justin had been in the centre of town. Overhead lights like Christmas tree decorations sparkled in the aspens and birches planted along the sidewalks. Frank’s Café was a spacious building with varnished plywood booths and formica tables. The menu advertised Chinese chow mein, buffalo and beef burgers, chicken wings, and smoked trout. Justin checked out the bar, a long wooden structure with chrome stools. It was past nine, and his stomach growled. David and Cara found a booth. They ordered buffalo burgers and beer and waited in silence. Justin reached for his glass of water and s
lowly drank.

  When the food came, everyone ate without speaking. Justin paid his portion of the bill after dinner while Cara and David counted out change. “I’ll wait for you outside,” he said. He put his wallet back into his pocket and got up from the booth. On the street, he breathed in the warm summer air. Over the tops of the buildings rose the huge dark mountains. The lake beyond the main street, seen through rows of cottonwoods growing by the stony beach, was now black and as hard as polished glass. Justin checked to see if Cara and David were coming. As he did, he noticed a man walking down the opposite side of the street. He was headed towards a general store, its windows covered with posters advertising trail rides and nature walks with the town’s naturalist. Justin quickly stepped back into Frank’s. He grabbed Cara’s arm.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice low with alarm.

  “Do you see that man over there walking past the café?”

  “Where?”

  “Just across from us. He’s headed into the general store.”

  Cara looked at the man with the open shirt and the black shiny dress pants.

  “Don’t point, Cara!”

  “Do you know that man?” she asked, standing closer to Justin as if to shelter him.

  “Yes. He’s Yianni Pappas.”

  “Who?” asked David.

  “David, do me a big favour? Yianni just went into the general store. Go over there and see if you can find out anything.”

  “Like what?” David said with a sleepy voice.

  “Justin, you’re shaking,” said Cara, taking hold of his right hand.

  “Please, David. Go on over and tell me what he’s doing. Maybe listen to what he has to say. He’s standing in line. See? I need to know why he’s in town.”

  “You in some kind of trouble?” David asked.

  “No,” replied Justin. “But I really need you to go over there now to see what’s up. Please.”

  “I’ll go with you, David,” said Cara. She let go of Justin and opened the door.

  Justin watched David and Cara go into the general store. The huge windows showed couples walking around with items in small wire baskets. The store sold dry goods and fruit. Yianni was talking to the two women at the cash register. Justin watched it all like a TV show with the sound muted. Cara lined up behind Yianni, holding a couple of apples. David stood next to her. Yianni’s mouth moved slowly; one woman at the cash nodded, spoke until Yianni grinned, and pointed to the cigarettes stacked on a shelf behind the counter. The woman pulled a pack down, and Yianni paid and walked out into the street. Justin then turned and as fast as he could went past the bar and into the hall leading to the men’s room. He peeked around the corner. Cara crossed the street and stood by the front of Frank’s until David caught up to her.

  “There you are,” Cara said as Justin came back to the front of the restaurant.

  “Well?” asked Justin.

  “Guys, I’m real tired.” David Home leaned against the yellow-painted logs of the façade of Frank’s Café. “I didn’t hear anything, Justin,” David added. “I’m sorry. I’m going back to the cabin. I’ll see you there.” David started down the street.

  Cara took hold of Justin’s arm and began leading him in the other direction, towards the small marina. The bay had rows of docks and small motorboats. Benches overlooked the docks and were placed facing out to the lake. “Come here,” Cara said. They sat down on a bench. In front of them at one of the docks, a man in his late seventies was struggling to pull a green tarp over an old boat. On the side of the boat was a small inscription: “Fifty Years on Waterton Lakes.” Cara checked the other benches. On one, a young couple sat talking. The rest were vacant. A small speedboat slowed and pulled in to the docks, causing the others to bob and sway. Cara leaned close.

  “He asked where Professor Mucklowe was staying.”

  “What?”

  “If it was Yianni.”

  “Oh, it was Yianni. No mistaking him.”

  “He said he needed to get a hold of Professor Mucklowe. He didn’t use Randy’s first name.”

  Justin felt a chill run through him. Yianni was here in town, looking for him.

  “Why was he asking for Mucklowe? Does Yianni know him?” Cara asked. She pitched her voice low. She took hold of Justin’s hand again.

  “He’s after me, Cara. I told you.”

  “Now wait a minute. It’s possible he knows Randy. Maybe Randy owes him some. . . .”

  “I’m going to kill myself!”

  Justin bent forward, slipping his hand free from Cara’s and resting his face in his palms. He felt tears coming.

  “Listen, Justin,” Cara said. “Let me help you. You said Patsy Hanson would lend you the money. I can drive you to her place. We can go tonight if you want. We can phone first.”

  “Oh, Cara, I wish. I don’t know if I can trust her. I need time to think. How are we going to walk home now? What if he’s waiting for me?”

  “Look, I’ll run to the cabin. You wait here. I’ll check it out. If everything’s okay, I’ll bring my car down and pick you up. Why don’t you sit and wait?”

  Cara got up. She held Justin’s face in her hands.

  “Be calm. It may not be as bad as you think.”

  On the edge of the bench, Justin rubbed his hands while looking to make sure Yianni Pappas was not nearby. Where is Cara? It felt like she had been gone for an hour. Too much time in any case. Was he just going to sit here in the open? He had to move. Cara would spot him on Main Street. He might as well walk where there were lights and crowds. He got up, turned his back towards the docks, and headed out, his calves and thighs stiff from sitting. The day had been long, and he needed to stretch his muscles before sleep.

  He crossed Main and strolled into an open field in the centre of the village. Around him, new cement foundations were brightly lit by huge arc lamps. Randy had said the village was putting in a new lodge. One building was completed, its roof high and pointed and covered with large cedar shingles. Past it, by a chain-link fence, a second building was going up, skeletal walls of pine studs resembling a wooden cage. Justin saw a figure standing in the door frame of the wall smoking a cigarette. It was Yianni. There was no way he could avoid him. Yianni’s face appeared chalk white in the glare of the construction lamps.

  “Nice night, Justin.”

  “Hello, Yianni.”

  “How’s the dig going?”

  “Fine. How did you know I was. . . .”

  “Your mom is a nice lady, Justin.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She said you had left town for the week. A school project, she said. I told her I was a friend of yours from your university.”

  Justin didn’t move. Yianni stepped from the door frame and sidled up to Justin. He stopped a few inches from his face, tossed away the cigarette, and smiled.

  “How come you didn’t tell me, Justin?”

  “I . . . I’m sorry, Yianni. . . .”

  “I thought I told you not to go on a holiday. Didn’t I tell you that, Justin?”

  “This is no holiday, believe me, Yianni. I had to do this project, it’s part of. . . .”

  Justin felt Yianni’s warm damp hand brush his arm and rise to his shoulder. Before he could pull back, the hand smoothly slipped to the base of his neck. Yianni did not hold him hard. But his thumb gently stroked Justin’s Adam’s apple. Yianni pressed his groin tightly against Justin’s.

  “You are a nice kid. I’ve always thought so. Tell me. You making any money on this project? Your mom said something about you getting a stipend or some cash for helping out your professor. A student . . . what did she call it?”

  “Hon . . . honorarium.”

  “That was it. That’s good, Justin. How much?”

  “Five hundred dollars.” Justin was breathing in the foul sweetness of Yianni’s breath.

  Yianni leaned in close to his ear, moist lips lightly brushing his earlobe.

  “That’s a start.”


  Yianni tightened his grip on Justin’s neck, spat to his left, wiped his free hand across his mouth, broke into a smile, and, with the pointer finger of his right hand, tapped Justin softly on the chin.

  “I got to drive back to town, kid. It’s getting dark. I like the sound of five hundred dollars, but I like the sound of six thousand even better. I look forward to seeing you Saturday. Promise me we can see each other on Saturday. You won’t let me down?”

  “No, Yianni.”

  “You promise?”

  “Yes.”

  “You sure now?” Yianni held his hand firmly around Justin’s neck.

  “Yes, I promise.”

  Yianni let go. He smoothed his hair and brushed something from Justin’s shoulder. He rubbed Justin on his lower back, just below his belt line.

  “See you Saturday.”

  Yianni Pappas walked away, going around a pile of cedar shingles. Justin stood still. Over his head, he heard a bird calling into the darkness. Then he began to run. Stumbling in the dark, he didn’t care where he was as long as it was away from Yianni. Justin headed up through the construction site, across a field full of birch trees, down the slope that led to the river. Ahead lay the campgrounds. He dodged through trees and shrubs, and finally he saw the rooftop of Randy’s cabin.

  Cara had not made it back yet. Justin was sweating. The aspens crowding the cabin rustled with the hot breeze, and crickets buzzed in the humid grass. Sam Heavy Hand’s half-ton was parked by the stone patio. Sam was sleeping inside the cab, snoring loudly, his head propped up against the passenger window on a bunched-up denim jacket. Justin made his way to the cabin door and opened it. What a relief it was to be inside. The kitchen and living room were full of shadows as Justin struggled to the bathroom. He threw up. After rinsing his mouth, he heard Cara’s car pull in. He walked to the back door and met her.

  “Oh, Justin. Thank God! I thought you’d gotten into trouble.”

  “I saw him.”

  “You look awful.”

  “He came here to threaten me.”