Fort

by Cynthia DeFelice

  “I—we—” I started to protest, but Mrs. DeMuth was shepherding Gerard toward the door. She stopped and looked back and, sounding more sad than angry, she said, “I’ve never seen him so happy as when you took him to that fort of yours. And now look at him! I hope you’re proud of yourselves.”

  She led Gerard inside and the door closed.

  Augie and I looked at each other.

  “Man,” I said.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  “She thinks we took him to the fort,” I said as we walked dejectedly to our bikes.

  “Yeah,” said Augie. “Like he was our friend.”

  I felt pretty crummy right then, and I could tell Augie did, too. I’d never really thought about what it must be like to be Gerard and not have any friends.

  I could just picture what had happened. J.R. and Morrie had seen Gerard playing happily with his new squirrel tail, swiped it, then started to tease him with it: Where’d you get this, Gerardo? Really, the woods? What were you doing in the woods? Oh, there’s a fort there? Those losers Augie and Wyatt made it? Oh yeah? So where is it? No, you can’t have the squirrel tail back, not until you tell us …

  Before we got on our bikes, Augie and I spit in our palms and shook hands on a solemn vow.

  J.R. and Morrie were going down.

  10

  “We can plan our strategy when we get to headquarters,” Augie said as we pedaled next to each other on the way to Al’s. “I’m thinking we should call this Operation Doom.”

  “Yeah!” I said. “Or—hey! How ’bout we call it Operation Ultimate Doom?”

  “How ’bout Operation Ultimate Doom and Destruction!” Augie came back.

  “Perfect,” I said. Then I added, “It would be really cool if it made a good acronym.”

  “Huh?”

  “You know, like SCUBA.”

  Augie looked at me again like, Huh?

  “SCUBA. It stands for Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus,” I explained. “And POTUS is President of the United States. And the first lady is FLOTUS.”

  Augie shook his head. “I never knew what that was called. So, you mean, like SOB is one of those? An ack—”

  “Acronym, yeah. But ours would be…” I spelled it out: “O-U-D-A-D.”

  Augie made a face. “How would you even say that? Ow-dad? Sounds like a little kid who got hurt, crying for his father. That’s dumb.”

  “Or Oo-dad.”

  “Even dumber.”

  I thought about it. “I bet SCUBA sounded dumb, too, the first time somebody said it. SCUBA, SCUBA, SCUBA.”

  Then I tried, “OUDAD, OUDAD, OUDAD. See?” I said. “It doesn’t sound any dumber than SCUBA.”

  “Um, Wyatt?” said Augie. “Can we just forget about the acro-whatchamacallit and concentrate on the mission?”

  “Okay,” I said. “Sure.”

  We were quiet for a while. My mind had gotten stuck on trying to make up a cool acronym, so I forced myself to think about J.R. and Morrie and the lousy things they’d done. That got me mad all over again. Then, when we got back to the fort and I imagined J.R. and Morrie being there, fooling around with our stuff, I was seriously ticked off.

  We built a new fire and sat staring at it.

  “You can always think better by a fire,” I said.

  “Definitely,” Augie agreed.

  After a minute, I asked, “So, did you think of anything?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Me neither.”

  A couple more minutes went by.

  “Anything?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  Finally, I offered, “We need something diabolical. Fiendishly clever.”

  “For sure,” Augie agreed.

  “Something that’ll really teach those jerks a lesson.”

  “Yeah,” said Augie.

  “So they’ll never mess with us—or Gerard—again.”

  “Yeah!” said Augie, turning to me for a high five.

  After a few more minutes, I said, “Right here: this is where it’s got to happen. They’re definitely going to come back here.”

  Augie nodded.

  “So we need to be ready for them.”

  “Um-hmm.”

  “They’re older than us,” I went on. “And bigger and meaner.” I grinned. “But we have the advantage of superior brain power.”

  Augie grinned back. “Goes without saying.”

  “Every good military tactic uses the element of surprise,” I said. “I read that somewhere, anyway.”

  “Makes sense,” said Augie. “That’s a good start.”

  “And”—an idea hit me—“Gerard should be here to watch it happen.”

  “Totally,” agreed Augie.

  We high-fived.

  “I’m getting hungry,” said Augie.

  “Me, too.”

  “Want to do some squirrel hunting? While we think more, I mean?”

  “Might as well,” I said.

  Augie handed me the Squirrel-Slayer.

  “You sure?” I asked. “I mean, we could starve to death before I hit one.”

  Augie handed me a few marbles. “These are easier to aim than stones. You’ll see. Take a few practice shots.”

  I did. I guess I got a better feel for the slingshot, but I didn’t actually hit anything I was aiming at. I didn’t want to waste Augie’s valuable ammo, so I gathered up the marbles and handed them back.

  “You shoot, and I’ll chuck the rocks,” I said. “I need way more practice, and I want to eat sometime today.”

  Augie shrugged, and I returned the slingshot. We found another pine tree full of cones and set up underneath it, the way we had before.

  As we sat very still waiting, half of my brain concentrated on listening for squirrels, but I let the other half work on the J.R.-Morrie problem.

  When we’d finished, Augie had shot two squirrels, and I still hadn’t thought of anything close to a plan.

  As we cooked the squirrel meat, we racked our brains.

  “I keep coming up against the same problem,” I complained.

  “What’s that?” asked Augie.

  “We don’t know when J.R. and Morrie will come back. Like if they came right now, what would we do? Pelt them with hunks of squirrel?”

  “Waste of good meat,” Augie muttered.

  “True,” I said. “But we can’t let them have the element of surprise.”

  “I don’t think we have to worry about that,” said Augie, looking pleased with himself.

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” he replied, wiggling his eyebrows, “I happen to know they have JV football practice every weekday starting today.”

  “Really?” I said, unable to believe this piece of good luck. “You sure?”

  “Yep,” said Augie. “They all complain about how hard Coach works them. They only have off on the weekends. I figure they’re dying to get back here and cause more trouble. I bet they’ll come Friday night. Possibly Saturday or Saturday night.”

  “Well, that’s great except for one thing,” I said. “We won’t be here on Saturday.”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Augie. “So I was thinking … if we go home Wednesday night like usual and do all our chores, I bet I can talk Gram into letting me stay here Saturday, and even Sunday if we need to. She won’t be happy if I have to miss church, but”—he shrugged—“it’s worth a shot.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And if Gram says yes, Dad probably will, too.”

  “Cool,” said Augie. “So we’ve got all week to get ready.”

  We grinned at each other.

  “We’ll definitely come up with a plan by Friday,” I said.

  “Definitely,” said Augie. “Meanwhile, ya wanna go find some crayfish?”

  “For what?” I asked, wondering if maybe this was going to be Step One in the new plan Augie was cooking up.

  “Bait,” he said.

  “You want to go fishing?”

  “Yeah,” Augie said.


  “What about the plan?”

  “We can think while we fish,” Augie answered.

  I groaned. “I just remembered something. We still have to come up with a song for Gerard.”

  “We can think while we fish,” Augie repeated.

  We found a bunch of crayfish by turning over rocks at the bottom of the stream. Augie said trout went crazy for them, and he was right. By the time we’d caught six fish and cleaned them, it was getting dark. So we made a fire and ate, throwing the fish skeletons onto the flames like before.

  “Tomorrow,” I said sleepily. “Tomorrow we’ll come up with a plan.”

  “And a song,” added Augie.

  11

  In the morning, we decided to go talk the situation over with Al and Unk.

  When we got to the junkyard, they were set up at the checkerboard, arguing about who was the best baseball player ever to play the game, Babe Ruth or Willie Mays.

  “Bottom line: Ruth had 714 homers, and Mays only had 660. End of story,” Al declared.

  “Homers-schmomers,” Unk shouted. “Mays also had 3,283 hits, 1,903 RBIs, and 338 stolen bases. There’s no comparison. End of story.” He glanced up, saw us, and looked relieved. “You two, tell him. There’s no comparing the Babe and Mays!”

  Augie and I looked at each other. Al and Unk could go on about this for hours. But we knew how to get them really riled up. It was impossible to resist.

  “Forget those old guys,” said Augie. “Barry Bonds was the best, hands down. He had 762 home runs.”

  “Yeah, but Roger Clemens was better than Bonds. Come on, 354 career wins!” I said.

  Al and Unk looked at us with outrage, just as we’d known they would.

  “Coupla dopers!” Al said with disgust. “They don’t even belong in the same conversation we’re having here.”

  Unk shook his head and looked at Augie mournfully. “I never thought I’d see the day when my own nephew would stand up for a couple of low-life cheaters who just about ruined the game. I’m very disappointed, Augie. Very disappointed.”

  Augie started laughing then, and I did, too. “We’re only kidding, Unk,” Augie said. “Just trying to yank your chain.”

  Unk looked relieved, but Al said, “I oughtta give you two bums some calluses on your kiesters.” He pretended to glare at us, but I could tell he was enjoying the joke.

  “So,” Augie said, “here’s the deal. It wasn’t Gerard who messed with our fort, after all. It was J.R. and Morrie. And they’ll be back, for sure. So we want to be ready for them. Get ’em to back off.”

  “For good,” I added.

  Al nodded approvingly. “Gotta do it.”

  “But we’re having trouble figuring out how,” I said.

  Al thought for a minute. “I have one word for you,” he said.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  He said something, then folded his arms over his stomach, smiling with satisfaction.

  “That’s two words,” I said.

  Al held up his hands, palms out, and looked at me with annoyance. “Okay, Mr. Smarty-Guy. Two words.”

  “Sorry,” I said quickly. “What you said—those things, what are they?”

  Al looked disgusted. “Kids today don’t know nothing,” he muttered.

  “Easy now, Al,” Unk protested. “They’re eleven. They never went to ’Nam.”

  “Yeah, I suppose,” Al admitted grudgingly. To Augie and me he said, “Well, don’t expect me to spell out everything. Use your noggins. Use that intercom you kids are so crazy about.”

  I looked at Augie, confused.

  Augie grinned. “He means Internet,” he said in a low voice. “I think.”

  “Yes,” said Unk, his face brightening. “Goggle it! I hear you can find out anything that way.”

  I was confused again, but only for a second. Then I smiled. “Yeah, Google’s awesome.”

  Augie and I looked at each other.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  “Where?”

  “The library.”

  * * *

  Augie and I got set up on a computer at the public library and began our search. I spend a lot of time on the computer when I’m home at my mom’s and I’ve gotten pretty good at finding what I want. Dad had insisted that the summer be tech-free: no computer, and cell phones only for emergencies and calling Mom. I’d been afraid I’d go nuts, but Augie and I had been so busy, I hadn’t missed that stuff at all. Now, sitting in front of the screen, I got right back into it. I have to admit, it felt kind of good to be better at something than Augie, for a change.

  Starting with the tip from Al, we checked out a lot of different sites.

  We kept on reading and looking at pictures.

  Augie started getting excited. “Hey, we can do this stuff! No problem.”

  I nodded. I was getting excited, too. Possibilities were already forming in my head. All we’d needed was a nudge in the right direction.

  We got some wicked-good ideas. Using a piece of scrap paper and one of those stubby little pencils you only see in libraries, I made a list of things we were going to need.

  I filled four pieces of scrap paper with notes.

  We finally had the makings of a real plan.

  “This is going to totally mess with their minds!” said Augie.

  “Roger that,” I said. I thought the circumstances called for some of the official-sounding military language we’d been reading online. “Our mission is to create panic, fear, and humiliation in the enemy, leading to flight and utter defeat. Of course, we will be aided in this enterprise by the element of complete surprise.” I paused and added, “We didn’t start this. But we are going to finish it.”

  Augie looked impressed. “Yeah! Like you said!” He raised his hand and we grinned and high-fived.

  The lady at the checkout desk looked over at us and raised an eyebrow, but she smiled when we walked by. “Did you boys find what you needed?” she asked.

  “You bet,” I said.

  12

  Augie and I rode to my house, where I got the twenty-five dollars Mom had given me for emergency money. She had warned me not to spend it frivolously, so I’d left it in the little pouch in the main compartment of my suitcase where I wouldn’t see it all the time and be tempted.

  “But if this isn’t an emergency, I don’t know what is,” I said to Augie, who totally agreed.

  I also took a bag of balloons that had been left in one of the drawers in the living room cabinet. Then I opened the refrigerator and held up a package of hot dogs. “In case we’re too busy today to go hunting or fishing?” I asked.

  “Good thinking,” said Augie.

  I grabbed some rolls, too.

  Then we rode to Cooney’s Hardware. My dad was crazy about the place, so we were there a lot. Dad said it was like hardware stores ought to be, not like Walmart, he said, where you had to buy a plastic-wrapped package of one hundred different-sized screws when you only needed one, and where nobody knew anything about hardware.

  We said hi to Mr. Cooney, the owner. He looked about a million years old and shuffled around the store in felt slippers and baggy pants held up by suspenders.

  Wooden bins lined the walls, filled with nuts, bolts, nails, hooks, screws—you name it—of every size and shape you could ever want. Rolls of wire and rope leaned against the walls. The middle of the long, narrow room was filled with tables piled high with what looked like a totally random assortment of stuff. Some of it was what you’d expect to see and some of it was weird. All of it was interesting.

  “Check this out, Augie,” I said, laughing, holding up a bottle of something called Predator Pee. Reading the label, I said, “It’s pee from coyotes and foxes. It keeps deer from eating your bushes.”

  I expected him to laugh, too, and crack a joke. But instead he said, “Aw, you don’t have to buy that stuff. Gram gets hers from a guy we know.”

  That Augie. He wasn’t kidding. There were about a hundred different questions
rushing into my head, beginning with, You actually know a guy who collects pee? Followed by, How the heck does he get it? I pictured a guy with a bottle in his hand, sneaking around behind a coyote, waiting for just the right second.

  I didn’t get a chance to ask Augie any more about it, because Mr. Cooney shuffled over then and asked if he could help us.

  I took my scribbled notes from my pocket. “Um, we need some of these,” I said, pointing to a little sketch I had made.

  Mr. Cooney nodded. “Seven-eighths-inch screw eyes. How many?”

  I looked at Augie.

  “How much are they?” he asked.

  “Three cents apiece.”

  “We’ll take thirty,” said Augie.

  Mr. Cooney nodded again. He headed slowly toward the back wall and, without hesitating, reached for a bin full of just the little doohickeys we wanted. He counted out thirty and put them in a small paper bag.

  “What else?”

  I showed him another sketch I’d made.

  “One-inch screw hooks,” said Mr. Cooney, nodding again. “How many?”

  “Thirty of these, too, I guess.”

  After he’d gotten the screw hooks, we went through the rest of the list: a large spool of one-hundred-pound test monofilament fishing line, another large spool of thin metal wire, and a box of heavy-duty rubber bands.

  When we left, I had $16.32 left in my pocket.

  Next we stopped by Augie’s house, where we grabbed a large jar of honey from Gram’s pantry. This, too, they got from “a guy we know.”

  “But this guy keeps bees instead of pees,” I said, and finally got a laugh from Augie.

  Next we went to Al’s, where Augie asked Unk if he had any old empty paint buckets.

  “Heck, Augie, I got about a hundred of ’em. They’re out in that shed in the yard, you know where I mean?”

  Augie nodded. I knew, too: it was the shed we’d hidden behind when we “borrowed” Herkimer. With everything going on, I’d forgotten all about the owl. An idea tickled the back of my brain.

  When Augie asked if we could take some buckets, Unk said, “You’d be doing me a favor. Your aunt’s been after me to clean out that shed.”