by David Rhodes
“How do you spell echolocation, and how often do bats emit signals?” asked Wally.
“E-c-h-o-l-o-c-a-t-i-o-n. When bats are hunting for insects, they emit navigational signals about ten times a second. But once they locate a possible target, the emission rate increases to about two hundred a second, and continues at the increased rate until they intercept it.”
“Unless the bug gets away,” said Kevin.
“That’s right, unless it gets away, which happens about twenty-seven percent of the time, though this varies according to atmospheric conditions and the density of vegetation within the hunting environment.”
“Well, your bat is welcome here,” said Amy.
“Not in the kitchen,” added Dart.
And then Amy, Dart, and Winnie went out to get a bunch of potted plants from the trunk of Winnie’s car. Flo went upstairs to her room, and Wally went out to the pole shed.
“Come on,” said Kevin. August and Ivan followed him into his room, where he showed August a video recording of the turtle coming out of the pond, biting a dead fish, and carrying it into the water.
“Excellent!” cried August, staring into the monitor. “Play it again.”
“Just look at that monster,” said Kevin, pointing at the screen. “His neck and head are bigger around than a softball.”
“What a magnificent specimen,” said August. “He’s straight out of The Age of Reptiles.”
“Wally’s making a trap to catch him,” said Ivan. “Let’s go see if he’s done.” But before they got out of the house Kevin’s nurse came down the hall and said it was time for him to breathe his medicine fumes and do some coughing, so August and Ivan went outdoors without him.
In the shop, Wally had almost finished welding sections of cattle-fencing together, with a hinged panel for the floor. The steel cage was big enough to contain August and Ivan. It was also heavy.
After he finished making it, Wally put the trap on a little trailer and used the garden tractor to pull it slowly toward the pond. August and Ivan rode with the cage, keeping it steady. There were two frozen carp inside.
“You know what happened the other day?” asked August.
“Of course I don’t know,” replied Ivan. “I wasn’t there.”
“Skeeter Skelton came to see Blake Bookchester at the shop. Do you know who Skeeter Skelton is?”
“Everyone knows who Skeeter Skelton is. Some people say he’s made out of old motorcycle parts.”
“I know. I heard that too. Well, he rode all the way into the shop, climbed off his motorcycle, asked if he could have a cup of coffee, and talked with Blake for ten minutes over by the lathe.”
“Could you hear them?”
“Not much. Skeeter asked Blake if he wanted to do a little lazy riding together, become road buddies and sometimes go places together on weekends. Blake said he’d like that, and explained where the coffee he filled up Skeeter’s cup with came from. But after that I heard them talking about your mom.”
“What did they say?”
“I couldn’t hear very well because my dad started banging with a wrench on a mower blade. But I heard them say ‘Dart’ six or seven times.”
“What else?”
“Skeeter said something about Lucky.”
“What was it?”
“I couldn’t hear.”
“I hate that guy.”
“I know. And after he said his name Blake picked up a ball-peen hammer and slammed it into the workbench.”
“I’ve got something to tell you, August,” Ivan said.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s something real big.”
“What is it?”
“I think Blake Bookchester might be my dad.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“How do you reason that?”
“It’s not so much the reasons, it’s the way I feel about them. He came over here and talked to me for a long time, and then he talked to my mother. He said he was an old friend of hers, but the way they looked at each other, I mean, it seemed really different. Anyway, he told me you were going to get another bat.”
“He saved Milton’s life,” said August.
“I know, you told me.”
“The other day, when he and I were alone at the shop, he asked about you,” said August.
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him you were one of a kind.”
“Couldn’t you think of anything better to say about me than that?”
“Not right then.”
“So what do you think about him being my dad?” asked Ivan. “I mean, do you see anything wrong with that?”
“No. He’s a man of the highest moral principles,” replied August.
“Except that he’s an ex-con.”
“True.”
“And another thing,” began Ivan, but just then Wally turned off the tractor.
“Here we are, boys. Let’s get this cage unloaded and bait the trap.”
The boys jumped out and went to work. Wally had a good plan. It was a lot like an old-fashioned box-trap, he said, simple in design and guaranteed to work.
“We’ve been setting box-traps since mankind first came down out of the trees and learned to walk on two legs,” he said, putting the trap next to the water and tilting it open. “This is our lucky day, boys, I can feel it in my bones.”
“What do your bones feel like?” Ivan asked.
“They feel like yours do.”
“My bones don’t feel like anything,” replied Ivan.
“I know,” he said. “But when you get older you feel them hurting and rubbing together, except when they know something is about to work out just right. And then you don’t feel them at all.”
“I think you’ve got it, Wally,” said August, and the old man carefully crept out from beneath the tilted cage. Inside, the two frozen carp rested on the metal trigger. When nudged, this trigger would trip the heavy steel cage, trapping whatever nudged it.
“This is going to work, boys.”
“I think you’re right,” added Ivan. He was trying to feel his bones.
The three of them sat down next to the cage then. They looked out over the shiny surface of the pond and imagined the giant turtle coming out. Milton flew from one end of the water to the other, catching insects and occasionally skimming the surface, picking up floating bugs. After a half-hour or so, August whistled him back. He said Milton shouldn’t wear himself out too much during the day. He was, after all, nocturnal.
“Where’s Kevin?” asked Wally.
“With his nurse,” said August. “It was time for his medicine.”
“He’ll want to see this.”
Ivan nodded. “I’ll go see if he’s done. You two wait here.”
When Ivan got to his room, the nurse was still pounding on Kevin’s back.
After supper that night, August, Kevin, and Ivan went outdoors to check on the trap. They sat on the bank near the cocked cage and talked. Their young voices moved over the water, rising and falling. As the sun dropped below the distant ridge, a shadow slowly grew over them. Three ducks dropped out of the sky and landed on the pond, spreading circles around them.
“So this Wild Boy, he’s real?” asked Kevin.
“As real as you are,” said Ivan. “I’ve seen him with my own two eyes, stood next to him—as close as you are now.”
“It’s hard to believe,” said Kevin.
“I know it.”
“And he just moves around and does whatever he wants?”
“That’s right, whatever he feels like. August and I think he lives in caves, but he’s probably got hundreds of places to spend the night. He just goes wherever he wants. He’s a free spirit.”
“Where are his parents?”
“I’ve wondered about that,” said August, “but no one knows.”
“Were they wild too?”
“No one knows,” replied Ivan. “The hermit knows more than anyone else, but even h
e doesn’t know very much about him. And because the Wild Boy can’t speak our language, there’s no way to ever know.”
“What does he do when he gets sick?”
“He doesn’t,” said Ivan. “He’s wild.”
“Everyone gets sick,” said Kevin. “Wild has nothing to do with it.”
“He never gets sick. Diseases roll off him like water. He never catches a cold or anything. His body is tough and he can sleep in subzero winters and baking-hot summers. It makes no more difference to him than it would to a bird or a rabbit.”
“But he could have an infection,” Kevin offered.
“If he did,” replied Ivan, “he’d eat a handful of herbs and cure himself, or make a vegetable bandage out of mashed leaves, berries, and roots. Nothing could slow him down for long.”
“How would he know which herbs to eat?”
“Same way he knows how to move around the way he does. It must be instinct. You should see him climbing those rock cliffs. You wouldn’t believe a human can move like that—as quick as a cat and as sure as a spider. It’s like August said once: most of us are born into nature, but the Wild Boy was born out of it.”
“And this hermit looks out for him?”
“He even stays with Mr. Mortal sometimes,” said August. “In fact, I think the Wild Boy might stay there a whole lot more than Mr. Mortal lets on.”
“Mr. Mortal?”
“That’s the hermit,” said Ivan. “He has a dirt house beside a melon field. August and I have been there hundreds of times. If he’s in just the right mood, he makes us tea with honey.”
“What kind of hermit makes tea?” asked Kevin.
“The war-hero, tea-making kind,” replied Ivan.
“What do you think the Wild Boy worries about at night?” asked Kevin.
“He doesn’t worry about anything,” said Ivan. “The Wild Boy has no fears. If he feels like sleeping, he sleeps. If he feels like running, he runs. If he feels like swimming, he swims. If he feels like making a fire, he makes one. Sometimes he sits in a tree next to August’s house, just because he wants to. He has even been known to slip into someone’s house and take a freshly baked pie if he’s hungry.”
“He’d get caught if he did that,” said Kevin.
“No, he wouldn’t. He gave August a jar of canned peaches once. Where do you think he got them if he didn’t sneak into someone’s house? It’s not like he’s going to can them himself. He doesn’t have any jars. He lets others do the work while he just moves through the country like a young buck—quick, quiet, and smart.”
“But what would happen if he got sick or hurt?” asked Kevin.
“Good question,” said August, staring out over the pond. “Disease and injury could be a real danger for the Wild Boy. I hadn’t really thought about that before.”
“Now don’t start worrying about that,” said Ivan. “You’ve seen him more than anyone, and you’ve never seen him sick.”
“Maybe we could convince my mom to arrange for a doctor to find him and check him over,” offered August.
“Are you crazy? A doctor would kill the Wild Boy in an instant,” replied Ivan.
“You’re right about that,” said Kevin. “Hospitals are full of infections and diseases, and most doctors are in hospitals all the time.”
“Shh,” whispered Ivan. “Shhh.” He pointed out into the pond.
“What is it?” asked August.
“Shhhhh.”
Then August started pointing as well, and when Kevin sighted along his arm he saw a dark head sticking out of the water, like a rounded-off wooden post.
“Jesus,” Kevin said.
“Shhhhhh.”
The head moved slowly and silently toward them across the surface of the water.
“Jesus.”
“Shhhhhhhhh.”
The dark head took a long time to reach the shore. Then the massive turtle crawled out of the water and onto the bank. It moved slowly, heavily, dragging its body forward with wide clawed feet. It stood for a moment in front of the opened steel cage. Then it turned its thick neck and head and stared at the boys, the moonlight reflecting green in its tiny eyes.
The boys just sat there, motionless.
The turtle crawled toward the dead carp and the cage fell around it, clanking against the metal floor piece. The turtle seemed not to notice it had been trapped, and began eating the fish in quick gulping bites.
“We got him,” said Kevin, almost inaudibly. “I don’t believe it.”
“Shhhhh,” said Ivan.
“There’s no need to be quiet now, you dope. Jesus. Where’s my grandpa? He’ll know what to do next.”
“He went into town to get something to eat. He doesn’t like pizza. But he should be back by now,” said Ivan.
“Oh, right. I forgot. He’ll never believe this.”
“Sure he will. He knew it was going to happen,” replied Ivan.
“He just said that to keep our interest up.”
“That turtle is even bigger and more reptilian than it looked in the video,” said August, staring into the cage. “Its back looks like a burned mountain range. Fascinating.”
“Told you,” said Kevin, and coughed.
“Why would he do that?” Ivan asked. “He came right out of the pond like we weren’t even here. Very, very sketchy, if you ask me. Just look at him ripping into that fish.”
“We need a flashlight,” continued Ivan. “It’s getting too dark to see him.”
“We can’t all go in,” said August. “Someone needs to stay here with the turtle.”
“Why?”
“So he doesn’t get away.”
“He can’t get away,” said Kevin. “He’s trapped. And besides, if there was a way for him to get out of the cage, none of us could stop him.”
“Sure we could,” replied Ivan. “We could turn him over on his back.”
“That’s just stupid,” said Kevin. “He weighs over two hundred pounds, and he could bite your hand off as soon as you touch him.”
“Good point,” said Ivan.
Kevin began coughing then, and it continued for a long time in a convulsive, gagging manner. The nurse, who had been standing on the deck, hurried down to the edge of the pond and told Kevin he needed to come inside.
“No,” he coughed out.
“We caught the turtle,” Ivan told her, but the nurse didn’t seem very interested.
“Kevin, you have to come inside now. This damp air is aggravating your lungs.”
“Fuck off.” He coughed.
Then the back door of the house slammed and Wally came out. He found the walking stick he’d left leaning against the railing, and made his way down to the boys.
“We got him!” hollered Kevin.
“Now that’s something,” said Wally, staring into the steel cage. “That’s really something. Boys, we did it. That’s what I call teamwork.”
“Kevin needs to come inside now,” repeated the nurse.
“And it’s up to me what we do with him now, right?” said Kevin.
“Yes, that was the agreement,” said Wally, staring into the cage.
“It was your boat,” confirmed Ivan.
“You need to come in now, Kevin,” said the nurse.
“Let’s put the cage in the pond, near the shore where we can still see into it. We’ll leave it there, completely underwater,” said Kevin.
“Why?” asked August.
“He’d eventually drown, and we could watch that. He would try to get his head out to breathe. It might take a whole week.”
Silence.
“I’m not doing that,” said Ivan.
“That is completely beyond the pale,” said August.
“No,” said Wally. “That’s not an option.”
“You said it was up to me,” said Kevin.
“It is,” replied Wally, “but your choices don’t include that one. I’m not heading into the afterlife with something like that weighing me down.”
&nbs
p; “But he’s the devil,” said Kevin, staring into the cage. “I’d like to watch him die.”
“If you want to end his life, we’ll get someone out here with a rifle. Is that what you want?” asked Wally.
“I don’t know,” said Kevin. “Do I have to make up my mind now?”
“No, of course not.”
“Good. Can we just keep him in the cage until I decide?”
“Sure. But it will get too warm out here during the day. He needs to be in the water. Let’s see if the four of us can push the cage a little ways into the pond. Then we can still see him and feed him fish, check on him, get to know him a little better. And then you can decide.”
“All right,” said Kevin, “but pushing that cage isn’t going to be easy. We’ll have to watch our fingers.”
“We could get some long poles and pry it into the water, one lift at a time,” suggested Ivan.
“Good idea,” said August.
“Let’s go for it,” added Wally.
Then Dart walked out. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“We caught the turtle,” replied Kevin.
“Good work,” she said. “Boy, he’s a big one.”
“He’s immense,” said August.
“It’s time for you two to come in now,” she said. “It’s after ten. Mrs. Helm wouldn’t want August out this late.”
“First we have to move this cage down to the water,” said Wally.
“Then do it,” she said.
“Kevin is refusing to come in,” said the nurse. “This air is hurting him.”
“He’s not refusing,” replied Dart.
“Yes he is,” said the nurse.
“He just wasn’t ready until now, right, Kev?”
Dart picked up the oxygen tank in one arm and put her other arm around Kevin. “Come on, big guy. After we’re inside I’ll tell you why the most beautiful women in the world always undress from the top down. You don’t already know that, do you?”
“No.”
“Well, come on, then, let’s go.”
She and Kevin went inside, followed by the nurse.
And then August, Wally, and Ivan pushed the cage down to the pond, until only a foot of it stuck up out of the water.
Night Ride
When Blake learned his curfew had been relaxed and he could move about with the same relative freedom as everyone else between 8:00 p.m. and 8:00 a.m., he thought he should celebrate in some way. His other restrictions were still in force—no leaving the state without written permission, no fraternizing with other felons, no firearms, no drinking, etc.—but he’d nevertheless reached a higher plateau of liberty, and he felt compelled to mark the passage somehow.