Live it Again

by Geoff North

  Billy shrugged his narrow shoulders. “I always crack up at funerals… maybe it’s a stress reliever.”

  There was a cracking sound behind them and they started running again, deeper into the woods. It was a long time before they stopped to rest again. Billy wiped the lenses of his glasses against his shirt and looked back over the terrain they’d just covered. “Can’t see him, can’t hear nothing either.”

  “Doesn’t mean he still isn’t after us. Maybe he’s flanking us like they do in those old war movies.”

  “This isn’t a movie.”

  Hugh started to walk in the direction of the setting sun. Its red beams sliced through the openings among the poplar branches. “No, it’s not a movie, but it sure feels like one sometimes.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Hugh didn’t answer. He continued to plod through the forest and Billy followed. They eventually came into a clearing and followed a barbed wire fence line.

  “This is a good sign, hey, Hugh? We must be close to somebody’s farm now.”

  “Take another look,” Hugh said. He pulled on a strand of rusty, loose wire. “This fence hasn’t been fixed in years.”

  “Well maybe if we work our way back towards the river we can head back to town that way.”

  “Where the hell is that? We don’t even know where the valley is anymore.”

  They continued west, beside the old fence and into the red sun.

  “So why did Nelson kill McDonald?” Billy asked after ten minutes of silence.

  “You seriously don’t know? I thought everyone knew he was screwing around with McDonald’s wife.”

  “Get outta here!” The boy’s face lit up despite their predicament. Nothing could lift a person’s spirits like a bit of good gossip. “How long has that been going on?”

  “How should I know? They never asked me to watch.”

  Billy laughed so hard he had to stop walking to catch his breath. When he was finished he wiped the tears from his eyes and rubbed his stomach. “God, I’m hungry.”

  “Me, too.” Hugh felt his own gut. The few mouthfuls of cold scrambled eggs earlier in the afternoon had been the only thing he’d eaten in almost twenty hours. Puking up everything during the night hadn’t made things any better. Dehydration could become a serious problem.

  They carried on for another fifteen minutes until the fence ended. A final, moss-ridden post stuck out of the weeds and wild grass at a forty-five degree angle. Ahead of them was an abandoned farmyard. Billy pumped his fist into the air. “Yes! Finally!”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. Nobody lives here.”

  They approached slowly. It became apparent no one had lived there in a long time. The glass had been smashed from all the window frames of the single story house, the front and back doors were gone altogether. They went inside and had to be careful where they stepped. The ground was littered with broken glass, rusted nails and bird poop. An ancient washing machine here, a chesterfield box spring there, and everywhere there was sheets of broken tile and lathe and plaster where the ceiling had fallen in. Hugh looked out one of the windows into the backyard. There was an old car that probably dated back to the forties; the flat rubber tires turned a light grey and cracked throughout with age.

  “Maybe we could drive back to Braedon,” Billy offered.

  Hugh felt sorry for him. Every step of the way he’d tried to make a joke out of the whole thing. There was a barn with a sagging roof fifty yards to the east. “We’ll sleep there tonight.”

  “You really don’t think we can find our way back to town?”

  Hugh shook his head.

  “Why can’t we sleep in the house? There’ll be rats in the barn.”

  “There will be rats in the house, too.” Hugh started to crawl out through the window. It was safer than going back across the floor of rubble. “I’ll feel safer in the barn. If Nelson is still after us, he’ll check it out last. We’ll be able to see him coming from the loft window.”

  “Okay, but you go first. The rats and mice can have a go at you before me. I don’t wanna get any goddamned scabies.”

  “Do you mean rabies?”

  “You know what I mean, that disease where you go crazy, frothing at the mouth, pissing your pants and stuff like that.”

  Hugh laughed and put an arm around his skinny friend’s shoulders. They set off for the barn, the sky behind its black form now a dark, indigo-blue. He could think of no one he’d rather spend the night with.

  Chapter 16

  The boys did have a good view of the house from the barn’s loft window. They watched as evening slipped into night, the colors stolen slowly from the western sky. The only light after a while was cast down from the stars overhead and the rising harvest moon.

  Hugh wondered who had lived in the old farmhouse. He estimated that it had last been a home less than twenty years before. Where once there was a family, now there was rubble, grown over with thistle and weed. How quickly time covered its tracks. Had children played in the front yard? Had they gathered eggs from chickens and fed horses? All that remained was silent, dark ruin. Where had they gone? Were any of them still alive? Was there some middle-aged man or woman staring out over a city landscape recalling the good old days growing up on this very acreage?

  It had taken less than twenty years. Hugh had been displaced in time almost twice that long. He thought of Cathy, Dana, Julie, and Colton. Had time erased them as quickly? No, they lived on in his mind, in his heart. He performed mental exercises that kept their faces, their voices, their smells alive inside of him.

  What was Colton’s favorite sports team? What brand name of jeans did Dana always insist on buying? What was the name of that internet chat site Julie was always on? How long was Cathy’s hair?

  Toronto Maple Leafs. Hugh was positive his son’s favorite hockey team was the Leafs. He could picture Dana in her faded designer jeans, but he no longer remembered the company name. He never could recall the internet site that Julie visited when he was with them so he didn’t beat himself up too badly about that one. But what had Cathy’s last hairstyle been? She’d changed it so often. How could he be expected to recall something so trivial? He remembered it had been shoulder length and straight at their wedding. Her bangs had curled in at the bottom, and she had told him repeatedly during the day how the ends rubbed against her neck, tickling the skin there, driving her crazy to the point of forgetting her vows.

  Or had it been one of the brides maids with the turned in bangs? Maybe it had been Heather? And hadn’t he been the one that almost forgot the wedding vows? Had time found the secret hiding place in his brain where he stored all those important memories? It had been the same way with Ben. After he was gone, the memories of his young life started to fade. Small things at first went missing. There was a funny way he used to eat soft-boiled eggs, but neither he nor Cathy could remember what it was after half a year. All they could remember was the mess it always left behind, how it made them laugh until they almost cried. He’d had a favorite blanket, blue and fuzzy, but he couldn’t recall the pattern unless it was right under his nose.

  Then the bigger things started to go. What shade of blue were his eyes? Were they set wider apart like his own, or closer together like Cathy’s? Photographs answered questions like that easily enough, but it was hard to even look at them after he died. It had been just too damned painful. What had his voice sounded like? There were plenty of home videos, but like the photos, they were best left put away. He wished now that he’d looked at those pictures more often. Even they were gone. Only his memory remained, and that he feared, was fading as well.

  Hugh watched as the orange moon rise behind the house and through the shelterbelt of trees beyond. “Elephants and chimpanzees.”

  “What?” Billy asked.

  He looked over at his friend leaning up against the straw chute’s frame. His face bathed in a dull peach light from the moon. “A blanket. It had elephants and chimpanzees on it.” />
  Billy stretched his cramped legs and sighed. “Do you think they found Bob’s body yet?”

  It had been the fourth time he’d asked in two hours. It reminded Hugh of a kid in the backseat of a car. Are we there yet? “Yeah, they’ve found him. The bridge would be one of the first places our parents would think to check.”

  “Won’t be long then. They’ll find us soon.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. We’re miles from where we started out.” Hugh rubbed his temples with cold fingers. A splitting headache had set in with the freezing temperatures and darkness. His tongue felt swollen and dry and it was difficult to control his shaking body. That only made the headache worse. He was becoming severely dehydrated.

  As if sensing his thoughts, Billy placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You want me to go out there and see if there’s any water sitting around?”

  “Too risky, I’ll be fine.”

  They sat in silence for a few more minutes until an owl hooted off in the distance. Billy yawned. “So are you Hank?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, Hank, from your time travel story last night. Are you the guy that came back?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “I dunno…just this feeling I got. You’ve been acting weird for a long time and sometimes it seems like you’re hiding some kind of dark secret.”

  Hugh tucked his hands into his armpits in an attempt to control the shaking. “Remember the time your dad gave you a licking for spitting on the cars at my sister’s graduation?”

  “How could I forget that? I think there are still burn marks on my neck where he almost choked me. Sure was happy when your dad punched him.” He paused for a moment and looked down at the rotting floorboards. “I’m still ashamed of my dad though. You know, for how he turtled.”

  “It should never have happened that way. I was the one that should’ve got in trouble that night, not you. If I hadn’t interfered, if I just let things happen the way they were meant to…I still feel bad about it. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It was probably one of the best things that ever happened to our family. Dad quit drinking after that night, and he hasn’t laid a finger on me or mom since. Sure, all he talks about now is Jesus and God, but it’s a lot better than it used to be. At least I’m not scared of getting the shit kicked out of me all the time.”

  Hugh nodded, thankful to have had a positive influence on someone’s life. He certainly hadn’t had a good one on Herbert McDonald. Or Bob Richards. “Don’t knock his religion. I wish I’d gone to church more in my first life.”

  “So what? You reincarnated or something? Is that what the camping trip was all about?”

  The cold must have been affecting Hugh’s better judgment. “I planned the whole thing because I knew Nelson was going to try and murder Mr. McDonald, or at least I thought he was going to murder him. It was never actually proven, just a lot of gossip, you know?”

  “No, I don’t know. What are you talking about? You think it’s funny that Bob died?”

  “I-I had to know for sure, had to stick my nose in and play hero. I never thought--never imagined Bob would pay for it. He would’ve been my boss.”

  “Your boss? Like in the future? What do you guys do, I mean what did you do? Ahh shit, I guess I want to say what will you do?”

  “Confusing, isn’t it? Try living it. We worked in a grocery store down town.”

  “The corner store across from the theatre?”

  “No, a bigger one, sort of a super-market. It won’t even be built until 1980, and the theatre will be turned into a parking lot.”

  “Hey, I’ve heard my parents talking about some big new store coming to town. Mom’s even thinking of putting her name in for work.”

  Hugh nodded. He wasn’t sure if Billy actually believed a word he was saying and it didn’t really matter. It felt good to get it all off his chest, to say it out loud to another person. “Bob was the manager, and I was well, I’m not even sure what I did anymore. It wasn’t very important, that much I know.”

  “That’s too bad,” Billy said around another wide-mouthed yawn. “I always figured you’d be some famous politician or something, you know, because you like to shoot your mouth off a lot.”

  “I think that’s what my problem was. Always being such a smart ass that I never amounted to anything.”

  It was silent for a full minute, and Hugh had a good idea what Billy would ask next.

  “So what about me? What am I going to be?

  Hugh shrugged his shoulders and hoped he wouldn’t ask again.

  “Am I going to stay in Braedon? My parents are pressuring me to take some dumb agricultural program in college. They want me to carry on with the farm I guess.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Hell no! Don’t laugh, but I kind of picture myself travelling around the world for a while after I graduate. I’d like to see some shit before settling down. Maybe backpack across Europe, see the pyramids, hitchhike all the way to China.”

  Hugh knew the boy would be dead in less than two years if he didn’t do anything about it. But how could he interfere without making things worse? Billy had already received the beating of his life thanks to him.

  There’s nothing worse than dying.

  “You should travel, Billy, nothing funny about that. Maybe I’ll join you.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question. What happens to me?”

  “Whatever you want to happen. It’s completely up to you.”

  “I don’t much like the sound of that.”

  Hugh’s headache was intensifying. “Give me a break will you? I’m not a goddamned fortune teller, so quit asking questions I don’t have answers for.”

  “So it was just a bullshit story!” Even in the gloom, Hugh could see the triumph painted on the boy’s face.

  “Yeah, just a bunch of bullshit.”

  They watched their breath rise out across the face of the moon. “So what’s with those numbers you keep repeating under your breath when you think nobody’s listening?” Billy asked through chattering teeth.

  “You’ve heard that?”

  “Everyone hears you saying them. Eight, twelve, twenty, and all the rest. What do they mean?”

  “Just more bullshit, kind of a mantra thing.”

  “Well I think it’s kinda creepy.”

  Hugh wished he had the lottery newsletter to look at. He kept it tucked safely beneath a floorboard in his bedroom and never took it out of the house. It was his only link to that other life, that fading, dreamlike memory of a life.

  It wasn’t a dream.

  Billy stood up and stretched. He staggered toward the window and Hugh reached out quickly to steady him. “Thanks, I think my ass fell asleep, starting to sting like a bugger. I gotta get some sleep. Wake me up as soon as you hear them coming. I got a feeling my dad might want to smack the crap out of me after all this, and I want to be ready to run.”

  “I bet he’ll just be happy to see you’re okay.”

  He listened as the boy settled into a pile of moldy old straw in one corner. It wouldn’t offer much warmth, probably more mouse turd and bird shit than hay, but Hugh wasn’t going to say anything. It was better than sleeping outside. He was snoring ten minutes later.

  Hugh’s head ached and his stomach grumbled. He felt far too sick to sleep. He decided he would remain awake until his father found him. He would need the time to figure out how to tell everyone what had happened. He closed his eyes and tried to relax his headache out of existence.

  ***

  Billy’s snoring had turned into sneezing. At least that’s what it sounded like to Hugh as he sat up and rubbed his swollen eyes. He must have dozed off quickly. Luckily he’d lain down to one side instead of toppling out face first through the chute window. He fumbled for the button on his watch to see the time. It was 1:15 in the morning. Billy continued to make his strange sneezing noises. Was he having an asthma attack? He heard
the boy’s feet begin to thrash in the damp, dirty straw.

  “Billy! Are you alright?”

  A deep voice, shaking with unbridled hatred answered him. “Shut your mouth, kid. I’ll get to you as soon as I’m done with your faggot friend.”

  Hugh jumped to his feet quickly, scraping slivers into his back along the dry wood of the straw chute. He barely felt it. How had Nelson gotten up into the loft without making a noise? Dehydration must have been taking a toll on Hugh’s system. His energy was almost completely drained. Even this teenage body has its limits, he thought, as he listened to his friend struggle in the corner. The choking sounds which he had mistaken for sneezing were getting weaker, his kicking less spasmodic.

  Hugh lunged into the darkness toward the sound. He ran into Nelson’s sweaty back sooner than he expected and crashed back down to the loft floor. He bit the side of his tongue as he landed, the pain consumed him, angered him back to his feet in an instant. He grabbed a handful of grimy hay and jumped onto the man’s back. He wrapped his free arm around the Nelson’s neck and yanked back with all of his strength.

  “Get off of me, you little bastard!” He kept his hands locked around Billy’s throat, but Hugh managed to shove a good amount of shit-ridden hay into his mouth. Nelson finally released his victim and reached back for Hugh.

  “Come on, old man!” Hugh yelled as they spun around in circles. “You think you’re tough trying to murder kids in their sleep?” He drove more hay into the man’s open face until he started to gag. Then he drove it in harder. Nelson bit down on his thumb. Hugh tightened his hold around his throat and jammed his bleeding thumb into one of his eyeballs.

  “You liggle fugger!” He screamed with his mouth full. The effort made him cough violently, and when he tried to inhale fresh air more rotten chafe worked its way down his throat. Nelson fell to knees, choking.

  “Not so nice, is it?” Hugh put all his weight behind an elbow into the middle of the man’s back. Nelson continued to writhe and gag, spinning on the floor like a top with a decided wobble. Hugh jumped off him and went to his friend. “Billy? You okay?”