by Greg Walker
“Shut up, Brody.”
“What? No, I don’t think you…”
He might have said more, but Jon tuned him out, his hands now clenched into fists. He stepped forward towards Will, pulling his right hand back and swinging at the same time he planted his left foot. He swung without restraint, for the first time ever in his life, against the only person he had every fought. He wanted to hurt Will, had no other agenda than that, deal out what he deserved for setting up this nightmare scenario and placing him in it. He had never known rage of this degree, a betrayal worse than anything felt in high school. At least then he had Will, could always count on Will, and now Will had dragged him into his obsession and Jon could not let that go without comment.
His fist connected with Will’s cheek, but at the last moment Jon balked and pulled the punch, so that it struck but not as hard as he had intended. He waited for Will to hit back, breathing hard, his legs tingling as the numbness wore off.
Will rubbed his cheek, kept his eyes on the ground, said, “I’m sorry, Jon. I’m so sorry.”
The fight ebbed from his body, replaced with exhaustion. He still burned with anger at Will, but he understood. Didn’t condone his actions, but understood. He reached out his hand to place on his shoulder when a blow from Stape caught the back of his head and he stumbled forward, realizing through a haze that it marked the first time Brody had actually struck him.
“What’s the matter with you? If you hadn’t noticed, I have all the guns. If you’d like a demonstration of my capabilities, just keep it up.”
Jon turned to look at him, the fight building in him again, knowing that without the gun, he would throw himself at Brody Stape. The fear that had made him so impotent as a kid no longer existed. At least right now. He knew Brody would probably beat him to a pulp and didn’t care. He would at least leave the hospital with his dignity intact. But he didn’t want to die.
“So what now, Brody?”
Brody smiled at him, and he did see the kid from high school then. The smile matched the one in his memory, right before he and Will began their stint as indentured pugilists. The crazy smile gone crazier.
“First thing we need is the tarp we slept on. It’s in the bag on my bike. Which one are you again?”
“Jon Albridge.”
“All right Jon Albridge. You stay here with me. And you…Phil…”
“Will.”
“Whatever. You get the tarp and bring it here. You try anything, I will shoot Jon Albridge where he stands. Are we clear? I don’t like repeating myself and you should always assume I am telling the truth.”
“We’re clear.”
Will strode off, his face blank, his stiff movements those of a man resigned to the consequence of what his actions had wrought. Jon struggled to clear his head, knew one of them had to stay alert and look for a way out.
“Did you know anything about this?” Brody asked him.
Jon shook his head.
“Great friend you got. You understand that I would not be here but for him?”
Jon gritted his teeth, and said, “Yeah, I get it. Except none of what he did would have been necessary except for what you did to us. So you aren’t exactly innocent.”
“It was what? Over twenty years ago, man. Time to move on.”
Jon looked at him, saw the amusement rising in his eyes again and turned his head, not wanting to speak with him any more than necessary.
“Whatever.”
He could feel Brody’s smile on him.
“I can tell you want to fight. I think you would if I put down this gun. And if my buddy wasn't lying dead down there, I might oblige you. Hell, we could bring back the Amish kid and I'll take you both on. But right now we need to do this."
"Why don't you just call the police? That kid isn't going tell them what happened."
"I don't deal with police. And anyway, this is a personal matter…between old friends."
Brody chuckled, and Jon frowned and asked the question weighing heavily on his mind and turning his gut to cement.
"Are you going to kill us?"
"I don't know what I'm going to do with you. First we're going to bury Chris, and you two are going to dig the hole. Then we can think about the future. I’m hoping I can be more creative than just shooting you, as long as you cooperate."
Will came back with the tarp. He was shivering again, and Jon felt the chill as well, his wet clothing drawing the heat from his body. He wondered how long it would take for hypothermia to set in.
“We need to change our clothes. It’s getting cold.”
“Not yet. Gonna get wet again. You guys put him in there, now you’re going to pull him out. Bring him up here.”
Jon groaned, could already feel the weight of the body fighting against his overly taxed muscles. But there was nothing to do but obey. Will had already started towards the creek.
They climbed back down the slope. This time Jon slid most of the way, not caring about a graceful entry.
“We should bring him over there a little ways. It doesn’t look as steep and we’ll never get up with all of that mud,” Will said, and then whispered, “What should we do, Jon? Make a run for it?”
Jon’s anger had subsided at Will’s indiscretion, but hadn’t vanished.
“You tell me, Will. This is your plan, remember?” He felt sorry for saying it, knew it wasn’t the time for recriminations. Maybe later, when they were back home. If they made it home.
“I’m sorry, Jon. I can’t say anything else. I shouldn’t have done this, or at least should have told you.”
“Yes. But for now we need to stick together. He knows who we are. If we get away, he’ll find us. Find our families.”
“All right, pull!” Jon shouted, to satisfy Brody that they were focused on the task. They floated the body to the edge of the stream, each gripping one of the thick, cold arms. It moved with relative ease to the bank. As soon as the shoulders rested on the gravel and mud, Jon felt the full weight of Chris again. He paused before heaving and whispered, “Only way out that I see, is killing him too. If we can. I don’t want to, but I think I could. If it’s him or us. I can’t see him letting us walk away from this. What about you, Will? Could you do that? We need to be together in this.”
“I think so,” he answered. He paused, and then with more conviction said, “Yes.”
“All right. We’ll need to look for a chance. Or if he tries to shoot us, we’ll just have to do the best we can. Guess we might get our opportunity to find out what kind of men we are,” he added humorlessly.
“We did okay with Chris, though, right? I mean, I don’t think we’re cowards. Especially you. You didn’t even know I had the gun…”
“You boys better get up here soon. You think this is a union job or something? Let’s go!”
They bent down and grabbed Chris by the arms. He lay face up, and Jon tried not to look at his features, his skin so white that it seemed to contain its own source of illumination, as if Chris were already fading away into a ghost. As they pulled him up the stream bank inches at a time, Jon couldn’t abolish the fear of a strong, cold hand suddenly gripping his wrist. He had never touched a dead body before, and hoped not to repeat the experience. His stomach churned with the continual contact.
“Almost there. Hurry up. That ranger is going to come back to make sure I left and I want to be ready when he does.”
Jon’s stomach heaved and he turned to throw up, then gagged again. He could hear Will panting heavily, and Brody laughing from above.
Finally they gained the top of the bank, and after one last mighty heave, Jon fell to the ground. Will remained standing, but hunched over with his hands on his knees, gasping for air. Brody poked Jon in the ribs with his boot.
“Oh no. We’re not done. Get up. Drag him over here to the tarp.”
Jon forced himself up, knew that right now, even if Brody put down the gun, he didn’t have the strength to mount an attack. For now he had to comply. Will joined him
and they dragged the corpse onto the tarp.
“Now roll him up. We’re going to put him into one of your cars. I don’t care which one, you get to pick.”
They set to work, and with each rotation of the body Jon felt sure he couldn’t complete another, but managed somehow; the threat of a gun and being discovered the most likely source of strength.
Dragging Chris while stowed away inside the tarp, which produced a crinkling sound so loud he feared it would carry for miles, at least went easier, the smooth surface sliding more readily over the level ground. But by the time they had reached their campsite, Jon didn’t think he could even lift his arms up over his head. And they still had to get him inside the car.
They chose Jon’s vehicle, due to extra room in the back, and transferred some of the camping supplies to Will’s car. With that task completed, they lifted the corpse as best they could, but mostly dragged and shoved it into the backseat, the body heavy and awkward and offering no assistance of its own.
“Good. Now put some of that stuff back on top of him.”
They had finished stacking a few duffel bags and a box of food that balanced precariously on what Jon thought to be Chris’ stomach, when headlights preceded a truck turning into the campground. Will threw his weight against the door repeatedly to shut it, and they all turned to wait for the ranger. Jon glanced at Brody, who had stuffed the gun in his pants, and tried to understand the expectant, almost eager look on his face.
“Look alive boys. Just be cool and we’ll get through this. If you don’t, same thing as before. He dies.”
The truck stopped in front of the campsite, and the ranger got out. He was a heavyset man with a large belly involved in a perpetual shoving match with the black belt around his waist. He shone a flashlight on them, and Jon and Will both put up their hands to shield their eyes. Brody looked straight on without blinking. As he approached, Jon could make out his other hand on his hip, and the latch for his holster unbuckled. He agonized over whether or not to speak out, wondered if the ranger would be the quicker draw, and doubted it so kept his mouth shut.
“Evening, Sir,” Brody said amiably.
“Thought you said you were leaving? Told you, you have to pay if you want to stay the night. Something going on here, guys?”
He addressed Jon and Will with the last question, and Will said, “We’re fine, thanks.”
The flashlight beam traveled up and down their clothing.
“What happened to you?” There was suspicion in his voice, and the flashlight returned to Brody for a more thorough inspection.
“We were helping this man look for his friend. Said he went hiking and didn’t come back out of the woods. I slipped and fell trying to cross the creek, and stumbled right into Will here and we both went in.” Jon forced a laugh that he hoped sounded natural.
Jon glanced at Brody who still had yet to say a word beyond the greeting. He couldn’t help but admire his cool, found himself drawing strength from it, and hated himself. First Will and now Brody, the latter the worst possible choice of mentors. He wondered when he got his own store of courage. Or maybe he truly was a coward.
“I apologize for giving the impression of lying to you, sir. Hate for you to think badly of me. But as Jon here said, my buddy Chris didn’t come back out of the woods. I’m actually not all that worried. He’s done things like this before, but I didn’t want to leave him here unless I had to. Wouldn’t doubt it if he found a comfortable place to nap. I asked these guys if they’d seen him. They hadn’t but insisted on helping me look. Real nice of them. Here…” Brody reached around his back, and Jon tensed, sure he would pull his gun, but he retrieved his wallet from his back pocket and opened the billfold.
“Let me pay you for the night. How much is it?”
The ranger waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. But I’m concerned about your friend. Could be lost out there, or hurt.”
“I doubt it. Like to ride with him, but he can be a real…pardon me…asshole when he wants to be.”
“Did he have any drugs or alcohol?”
“Who knows? I’m not his mother. I don’t, that’s for sure. Well, I was just getting ready to take these guys to dinner for helping out. That doesn’t happen too much anymore, someone pitching in like that for a stranger.”
“I need to get your name and address, and a number where I can reach you…Mr.?”
“Am I in some trouble? I’m happy to pay for renting the camping space, but otherwise this isn’t my problem.”
“No, you’re not in any trouble, but I…”
“Okay, then." He turned and addressed Jon and Will. "You guys probably want to change, if you’ve got something clean. Or we can do that when we get there, up to you.”
“I can’t believe this. Your friend might be lying somewhere out there seriously injured or worse, and you’re just going to leave?”
“Pardon me, Ranger, but you don’t know a damn thing about me. Your jurisdiction does not apply to my personal choices, so I would appreciate you keep the commentary to yourself.”
Jon heard the edge in Brody’s voice, an echo of the time he had said, “I know who you are” and gotten a very similar response.
The ranger, visibly intimidated by Brody, ignored him for now and turned toward Jon and Will, the safer targets. “Are you two going to go with him?”
“I don’t see how staying here will help. We spent over an hour looking and yelling his name. It’s dark now and I’m not going back into the woods. We did what we could, and we missed our dinner because of it,” Will said.
The ranger then swept the campsite with the flashlight beam, and then their cars. Jon held his breath as the light played on the tarp, had a nightmare vision of a hand or a lock of hair showing up in the spotlight. But the ranger turned back to them and said, “You planning on leaving for good? You paid for tonight too, didn’t you?”
“We did, yes. But we’ve had our fill of fishing and there really isn’t much else to do around here. We would have been on the road already if not for taking the time to help out.”
The ranger made once last effort. Jon sensed that he knew he should do more, but Jon also knew firsthand the intimidation that Brody's presence created. But knowing that cowardice might run in another was no consolation at all.
“You know we’re going to have to impound that motorcycle.” He said in an official tone, and Jon wondered who he was trying to convince of his authority.
“I don’t give a damn what you do with it. It ain’t mine, and I’m sick of him pulling this crap. Maybe he’ll learn a valuable lesson. Anything else?”
“No. I don’t understand it, but you haven’t done anything I can detain you for, except for theft of services but I waived your payment and I’m not going to go back on that now. What if he doesn’t show up? I don’t have any way to contact you. I really should get your information.” The last part came out more of a suggestion than a statement with any weight.
“If he doesn’t show up, I’ll make the missing persons report myself. You don’t need to worry about it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get my bike. You guys want to follow me?”
“Yes, we’ll be right behind you.”
Brody walked off, muttering something to himself, and the ranger watched him go with a shake of his head.
“What’s going on guys? Something’s not right about this. Anything you want to tell me?”
Just say it, a voice inside screamed. So far they had killed a man in self-defense. Will would corroborate his story. But he again weighed Brody versus the ranger, and knew the ranger would lose. He was a man authorized to use a gun, but not steeped and stained in violence, may have never pulled his weapon outside of a firing range. They would have to find a better way, something that didn’t include potential harm to someone else. The idea of telling the ranger to call the police and intercept Brody occurred to him. After all, the police were trained and paid to stand in harm’s way. But it came with no guarantees. Brody could
escape, and leave him and Jon to explain the body wrapped in a tarp in his car. He thought about Brody's warnings to Isaiah, and found that he viewed them as utterly true statements, made as much to the boy as to them; Brody would find Erin, and Michelle or Justin and hurt them. Bad.
Jon had never felt so helpless. Not even in high school. He had faced shame and humiliation then, but not his own death, or those of his friends and loved ones.
And one final aspect of this bothered Jon, that Brody had left him and Will alone with the ranger. He had to understand the temptation to tell the man what had happened, to try to escape. Unless he didn’t care. Unless he welcomed the uncertainty it offered, was treating this like a game with ultimate consequences for all involved, including himself.