Frenzy

by Robert Lettrick

  He felt himself melt just a bit from the warmth of her smile.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Heath…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  From her tone he could tell it wasn’t about the snail. “Without a lasso?” he joked, setting the tiny gastropod free in the river.

  “I don’t know you very well, but you seem so mature. You’re not all crazy like most boys your age. You’re different somehow. I can’t explain it.”

  “You can ask me anything, Em.”

  “Well, I was wondering…do your parents get along?”

  Heath didn’t have to think about his answer. “Yes, they love each other. They’ve been though a lot together, good and bad. The bad stuff probably brought them closer than the good stuff. Funny how that works, isn’t it? Why do you ask?”

  “My parents are splitting up. They told Em and me on the drive to camp.”

  “Oh.” Heath felt a bit blindsided and woefully unqualified to offer advice. “I’m sorry.”

  “I wish the bad stuff had brought my parents closer, too. Instead Dad’s moving to Hawaii to manage some resort there. I don’t want him to leave. I’ve always gotten along better with him than I do with my mom. And now I’ll only get to see him in the summer and holidays.”

  “Well…surfing on Christmas could be kinda fun,” was all he could think to say.

  “Yeah,” Emily said, her frown fading into a slight smile. “I hadn’t thought of that. That might be nice.” Heath noticed that her nose did lean a little to the left. Cricket was right; the imperfection was cute.

  “It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Your situation at home and the one we’re in now. You’ll see.”

  “Thanks, Heath.”

  “No problem.”

  “So how are you doing?” She took his hand in hers, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Until she turned it over, and he realized she only wanted to inspect the horseshoe scar Onyx had left on his palm. “Onyx really did a number on you.”

  “Oh. That. I’m okay. Besides, horseshoes are supposed to be lucky, right?”

  “It depends. If the horseshoe is facing up, like a U, then yes. If you turn it over, the luck runs out.” She let his hand go, breaking their connection far too soon for Heath.

  He felt a sudden surge of bravery. “Listen, Em…Dunbar thinks you maybe…like me a little.”

  Her face softened and her brow rose and puckered in the middle. “Oh. I don’t know why he would—I guess it’s not Dunbar’s fault. I never talk about Josh.”

  “Josh.” Heath didn’t know who Josh was, but he knew what Josh was.

  “My boyfriend. In Portland.”

  “Right…right!” Heath backpedaled. “That’s what I told Dunbar. That you probably had a boyfriend, and I wanted to make sure he didn’t say anything stupid to you…you know…since you probably had a boyfriend. I’m just looking out for him. Being a buddy.”

  “Oh. That’s nice of you.” She looked uncomfortable.

  “I’ll go tell him now.”

  “I…okay.”

  “Okay.”

  “Heath?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That snail was a good judge of character. You’re a really nice person.”

  “Thanks,” he said in an overly cheery pitch. “You are, too.”

  Heath turned and high-stepped in Dunbar’s direction. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He felt like an idiot.

  He stared at the scarred hand dangling limply at his side. The horseshoe was upside down.

  If you turn it over, the luck runs out, Emily had said.

  It sure does, he thought, and like the molting crayfish, he searched the river’s bottom for a suitable rock to hide under.

  Shortly after, the group saw an overpass bridge up ahead. It was resting on four massive concrete pylons that rose twenty feet above the river.

  “That must be the Mountain Loop Highway,” Will deduced. “It’s the road that runs between Granite Falls and Darrington. We should go up and check it out.”

  “For what?” Miles asked. “It’s not safe. We should stay in the river.”

  “There’re no animals following us,” Will pointed out. “We lost them all at the bluffs. I’m going to check it out. Maybe I can wave down a car. For all we know, we’re past the outbreak area. It’s the Loop—someone could be along any minute. Don’t you think that’s worth the risk?”

  Heath’s surveyed the contour of the steep hill leading up to the bridge, looking for a footpath. He found one that seemed relatively safe. “It’s a good plan. I’ll go with you.”

  “It’s settled then,” Will announced. “Let’s head up.”

  While the others waited in the water under the bridge, Heath and Will climbed the weedy slope to the guardrail. They straddled over it. The metal felt scorching against Heath’s inner thighs. They found the road empty with the unexpected exception of an old pickup truck parked on the center line a quarter mile down the way. It was just sitting in the road, idling with its brake lights on.

  “Let’s check it out,” Will said.

  The boys jogged for a several yards, but the slapping noises their wet shoes made on the road were loud, and rather than attract animals, they decided it would be safer to walk. Through his waterlogged shoes Heath could feel the warm pavement flattening out the soles of his feet. It felt wonderful.

  They eyed the hills around them for any sign of movement, but other than an eagle circling its nesting tree, the Cascades were as still as a painting. Any other time Heath probably wouldn’t have noticed the sheet-like clouds creeping in from the west, but he noticed them now. He pointed them out to Will. “See those? They’re cirrostratus.”

  “What does that mean?” Will asked. “Weather isn’t really my area of expertise.”

  “It means rain is coming.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “That’s awesome! When the animals get wet they’ll—”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. It’ll be awhile,” said Heath. “Cirrostratus clouds usually appear a day or so before a storm. We’ll be home by then.”

  “Oh.” Will sounded disappointed. “Still, it’s nice to know that it’s coming.”

  “Agreed.”

  “So, loverboy…” Will grinned slyly. “Things didn’t go so well with Emily, huh?”

  Heath shouldn’t have been surprised that Will had been eavesdropping on his conversation earlier—violating privacy was basically his “thing”—but he was caught off guard anyway. “Not that it’s any of your business, Stringer. It went fine. Emily and I are friends, and that’s more than we were when I woke up this morning. But weren’t you a little preoccupied at the time? Looked to me like you were busy getting under Emma’s skin. You’re not exactly smooth with the ladies yourself.”

  “Actually she’s the one who drew my attention to your awesome crash and burn. She was ignoring me. Seemed fixated on you, in fact.”

  “On me?”

  “Or maybe on her sister. She’s very protective of Emily. Probably doesn’t appreciate a loser like you hitting on her twin, especially when Mr. Perfect is waiting on her back in Portland.”

  Heath was ready to pounce until he realized Will was just ribbing him.

  “Lighten up, Heath. It’s not the end of the world. There’s plenty of fish in the river.”

  “I guess so.” Heath thought for a moment, then said, “I need to ask you something.”

  “I’ll trade you. A question for a question.”

  “Nothing’s ever easy with you, is it?” Heath sighed.

  “Never.”

  “You go first.”

  “How bad is it?”

  It was a vague question. Heath wasn’t sure which “it” Will was referring to: The general attitud
e of the group toward Will, their chances of survival, his crush on Emily—

  “Your cancer,” Will clarified.

  “Oh. That.”

  “So I’m right,” Will said, and he was, although for once he didn’t seem happy about it.

  “Yes. I have cancer. The doctor’s call it lymphoblastic lymphoma.”

  “That’s a mouthful.”

  “It’s a cancer that attacks all over…the lymph nodes, the chest, the central nervous system…even bone marrow. I had it when I was eight. I went through the treatments. A mix of radiation and chemotherapy. It was bad. My hair fell out. I couldn’t eat. I lost thirty pounds—I didn’t weigh much to begin with. But I fought hard and it went into remission. I got better.”

  “And now it’s back?”

  “Worse than before. I’m stage four, which means that even if I go through all of the painful treatments again, I may still die.”

  Will stopped for a moment and looked around. They were almost to the truck now. If an animal came after them, or blocked the road back to the bridge, they’d be in big trouble.

  “What’s wrong?” Heath asked.

  “The truck’s brake lights just went off. Someone’s in there.”

  “I don’t see anyone through the back window, do you?”

  “No. The driver may still be in the cab though. Maybe he’s hurt and lying down on the seat.”

  “Or maybe he’s dead.”

  “He could have run off into the woods.”

  “If he had a death wish, maybe.”

  “Like you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Will said, “For starters, why did you even come to Camp Harmony? Shouldn’t you be in a hospital getting better? OxyContin is a painkiller, not a cure. And I notice the way you seem to place everyone’s safety above your own. Self-preservation isn’t really your thing right now, is it?”

  “Not really,” Heath admitted. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but a deal was a deal. “I’m not accepting treatment for the cancer this time.”

  “That’s stupid!” Will shoved him. “Why not?”

  “That’s more like two or three questions.”

  “It’s one question in multiple parts. Let’s start with why you’re trying to get yourself killed for the others.”

  “I’m not trying to get killed for anyone. I’m trying to make sure that everyone survives. It has a lot to do with beating cancer as a kid. Going through something like that, cheating death, it changed me. I started to appreciate life and stopped caring about all the petty stuff I faced every day. I focused on what’s important, like my family and friends. After I was discharged from the cancer wing of the hospital, I made it a point to go back every weekend to visit the kids that were still sick and the nurses who were fighting to get them well. I’d bake stuff for them, like cupcakes or lemon bars. I got to be pretty good at it. It wasn’t a huge deal, but I could tell they appreciated it. And it made me feel good, too. So, yeah, maybe that’s why we’re all here, Will. To care for one another. Maybe we owe that to each other.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” Will said quickly.

  “Yeah, I do,” Heath insisted. “I owe you. And so do the others. Dunbar, and Miles and Molly…We all owe you. And I owe them. And you owe us. It’s called being human. We draw from each other’s strength and give it back when someone needs it more. I came face-to-face with death and realized I’d almost missed the entire point of my existence. Cancer led to a more meaningful life than I ever thought possible. Even if I only got another six years out of the deal. I’m grateful for that. A second chance was worth fighting for then.”

  “Wow, that’s deep, Heath.”

  “You’re making fun of me.”

  “A little. And now? What’s changed this time around?”

  “Now? I just can’t do it again. I don’t have any fight left in me. I know it, and I’ve accepted it. It’s as simple as that.”

  They walked along in silence for a bit, then Will said, “You’re totally lame, but whatever. It’s your life. Your turn. What do you want to know?”

  Heath approached his question as cautiously as they were approaching the truck. “I need you to tell me the truth. Did you leave your noisemaker in the livery or did you really lose it on the lawn like you claimed?”

  Will stopped and turned to face Heath. “I—”

  The answer, denial or confession, was interrupted by the sound of a man groaning in pain. It was coming from the front side of the pickup. The boys ran toward it. In a million years, they wouldn’t have expected what they found.

  The truck was parked on top of a horse, the passenger-­side tires were resting on her broken front legs, the bumper was pinning her flanks and hind legs to the ground. It was a camp horse; the one Emily had been riding earlier in the day. Her favorite. Sweet Pea. She was still wearing the blindfold Dunbar said Mr. Soucandi had tied over her eyes to calm her down. There was a lather of gooey salvia caked into the fur on her muzzle. Burgundy blood was ­streaming in ­rivulets down her brown neck and turning deep pink where it soaked into the shag of her white mane. Her eyes were glassy and vacant. Trapped beneath the horse, still tucked up on the saddle, was her trainer, Mr. Soucandi, and he, on the other hand, was alive.

  “Boys…” he groaned, lifting his head off the pavement. The skin on the left side of his face was scraped badly, road rash. There was a gash above his left eyebrow. But it was evident that his lower half was worse for wear. “My leg. I can’t get it free.”

  A truck on top of a horse, on top of Mr. Soucandi. It wasn’t going to be easy to free him, but Heath felt they had to try.

  “We’ll each take an arm and see if we can’t pull him out.”

  “You know he’s going to slow us down,” Will said.

  Heath glared at him.

  “Fine.” Will squatted. “He’s your package though. You can deliver him to Granite Falls.”

  That prospect was daunting—the pain was slowing Heath down. He was tired, near exhaustion. But he would hang in as long as he physically could. Heath stepped around Mr. Soucandi’s head and gripped his right wrist tightly. He felt Soup Can’s pulse pounding beneath his fingertips.

  “Hurry…” Mr. Soucandi pleaded, but he flinched when Will took hold of his left arm, causing the boys to hesitate. “My shoulder…I think it’s dislocated.”

  Will said, “Sorry, but if we’re going to pull you free we can’t afford to be gentle. Okay?”

  Mr. Soucandi blinked twice in acceptance.

  “Count of three?”

  Heath nodded.

  “One…two…three!”

  Heath should have seen what was coming next. Bad things seemed to happen at the end of Will ­Stringer’s three-counts.

  Sweet Pea’s head launched up from the pavement, and the horse swung it like a hammer at Will, chomping furiously at the air, her teeth clacking together loudly. Will fell onto his back. “It’s still alive!”

  The horse whinnied, then snorted a spray of blood and foam. She was still trapped by the truck but was determined to get at them, twisting her neck to an unnatural degree. She moved like a downed power line, thrashing against the blacktop, spewing spit into the air. Laden with the virus, her saliva was just as deadly as electrical sparks. Every time Will and Heath tried to grab hold of Mr. Soucandi, the horse would launch her head at them, cobralike, biting air, snorting and blowing snot through her enormous nostrils. There were cracking noises, too. Sweet Pea was breaking the vertebrae in her neck and withers in an effort to reach a little farther with each strike.

  “Go get some water from the river!” Heath ordered Will. “We’ll toss it on her. She’s suffering, hurry!”

  Will shook his head and grabbed Mr. Soucani’s wrist again. “There’s no time for that. We have to pull him free now!”

  A thump
ing noise inside the truck grabbed Heath’s attention. “I think the driver’s still inside,” he said. “We could use some extra muscle. Maybe the person can help us.” Despite Will’s protest, Heath let go of Mr. Soucandi’s arm and circled behind the truck to the passenger door. The window was filthy, he could barely see through it. He grabbed the door latch and lifted. Click. But a voice in his head told him to wait. He released the latch and leaned against the door. It clicked again.

  Heath cupped his hands against the window, then pressed his forehead against them. He could make out the keys swinging from the ignition. Something had just jostled them.

  “Hello? Anyone in there?”

  He jumped back from the truck as a boney cat bounded from the floorboard beneath the steering wheel column and attacked the glass in a spectacular fit of violence. It scratched furiously at the window, hissing and emitting a horrific reeeeeeeee sound from its contorted, hate-filled face. One of its claws caught in the rubber seal around the window and tore out of its paw, but it continued its attack. Right before the window became too opaque with cat blood to see through, Heath spied a hump of cloth and denim, the cat’s owner, still inside of the truck, slumped into the leg space on the passenger side.

  “The driver is dead!” Heath yelled to Will. “And there’s a freakin’ cat in there!”

  “Then get back here, dummy! I can’t do this by myself!”

  Heath circled around the front, leaving a wide berth between himself and Sweet Pea’s striking range, which was extending by inches with every crack of her neck bones. He clasped the horse trainer’s wrist with both of his hands.

  “You—you have to pull harder,” Mr. Soucandi grunted, then gasped for air. He was in great pain. “Just grab my arms and pull like hell.”

  Heath nodded. “Okay.”

  This time Soup Can led the count. It was quick. “Three, two, one, pull!”

  Mr. Soucandi screamed in agony. But he’d budged a bit.

  Sweet Pea’s jaw was creaking as it opened abnormally wide, unhinging like a snake’s, mere inches from Will’s ankle.

  “One, two, three, pull!”

  Soup Can’s knee slipped free of Sweet Pea’s body.