The Grateful Boys

by Françoise DuMaurier

  “How can we help you?” the sheriff asked.

  “This is my son,” the woman said, “his name is Harry Fletch. And he was attacked last night.”

  Deputy Coleman whipped out his notepad and began writing furiously, all the major words that he heard.

  “During the football game?” Zeddman asked her.

  “Yes,” Mrs Fletch answered. She stood up and rubbed Harry on the head from his bed. “My poor baby!” she wailed.

  “And how did this happen?” Sheriff Zeddman asked.

  “Mine too! His name’s Jason Richly,” shouted the portly man on the other side of the room. “He was also attacked! Same sum’ bitch did it I tell ya! You sheriffs need to take better care of the kids in yer town!” the man said angrily.

  “We’re going to figure this out and bring to justice whomever is necessary,” Zeddman said, attempting to reassure the upset gentleman.

  “Well,” the woman said, coughing insincerely to grab the officers’ attention. “As I was saying, my son was outside the game during the overtime part of the game he said – right son?” she said, looking over to her son then back at the police before her son could speak. “I don’t know because I wasn’t there myself. But they were just minding their own business not bothering a soul – ’cause I swear my son couldn’t or wouldn’t harm a fly, they just haven’t been brought up that way. Then outta nowhere they just get attacked by some… some person! He stabbed my son! He stabbed my baby! Somebody’s gotta pay!”

  She wept as tears streamed down her face.

  “Stabbed him?” Zeddman asked.

  “In the hand,” Mrs Fletch said, choking back tears.

  “Same ’fer mine!” Mr Richly yelled out. “Well he didn’t get stabbed in the hand like his friend but he did get hurt! Slammed my boy into a tree, this degenerate did.”

  “You said friend,” Zeddman said, raising an eyebrow. “So these boys know each other.”

  “They’re best friends!” Mr Richly growled.

  “I’m going to need to hear this from these young men,” Zeddman said.

  Harry sat up in his bed, taking his time, careful not to move his bandaged hand.

  “Like my mom said, I was mindin’ my own business, Sheriff,” Harry lied as quick as his mouth flew open. “Me and Jason both were. Out of nowhere this freak showed up.”

  “Where were you exactly?” Zeddman asked.

  “We were in the woods, heading toward the bonfire. You know, the bonfire’s customary during the football games. Well I can tell you for sure, Sheriff, I won’t be going back there no more,” he sounded almost innocent. “Never again ‘cause that freak attacked us. First he threw Jason up against a tree, just totally knocked him unconscious. Then he took my switchblade from me – the one I use ’fer hunting. And he stabbed me in my hand with my own blade, I tell ya!”

  Harry began to tear up. His mom grabbed him, hugged him, and accidentally bumped his hand.

  “OWWW!” he screamed.

  “And you,” Deputy Coleman said, nodding toward Jason while still jotting in his notepad.

  Jason lifted his head ever so slightly, maneuvering around his neck brace.

  “Same as Harry said,” Jason coughed. “Some freak of nature threw me against a tree when I was just mindin’ my own business. I don’t exactly remember much else.”

  “Can you think of anyone else who might have been there?” Coleman asked the boys.

  The two bullies shook their heads, said no, and made zero mention of Mason, Alex, Ben, and Sebastian.

  “So what did this boy look like?” Sheriff Zeddman asked him.

  “A real freak!” Jason said in pain. “He was dressed in black. Pale as a ghost with ugly long hair.”

  “Uh-huh,” Harry said. “I remember us calling him Snape… on the count of him having that long black hair and looking like some goth freak.”

  “It wasn’t goth, it was more of a punk look,” Jason argued.

  “No way,” Harry said. “Totally goth. I remember. You hit your head, Jason.”

  “Yeah, but I still remember what he looked like!”

  “Alright, alright,” Sheriff Zeddman said, trying to bring the conversation back. “Regardless of the boy’s sartorial choices, have you seen him before? What age did he appear?”

  “Maybe a year or two older than us. Like sixteen or seventeen. Skinny and tall. Maybe six feet,” Jason answered. “But I never seen him before.”

  “Yeah,” Harry interrupted. “No, wait. I have seen him before. Now I remember. I’ve seen him at school in the hallway.”

  “So he’s a classmate,” Zeddman said, following along.

  “I don’t have any classes with him, I’ve only seen him in the hallways,” Harry went on. “But I definitely know I’ve seen him. He’s always with a whole pack of freaks. There’s like four or five of them. All crazy dumb goth kids with black hair and black clothes. One of ’em even got a mohawk. Another looks like that old actor James something. The one who died on a motorbike who mom always talks about.”

  “James Dean?” Mr Richly said.

  “Yeah, that’s it!” Harry said. “Or maybe it was James Franco.”

  “I don’t remember them,” Jason said in a daze before lying his head back down on his hospital bed.

  “That’s actually really helpful,” the sheriff told them. “If there’s a clique of goth students, or whatever they are, then I’m sure the principal knows about them. You said they attend your school so tracking them down shouldn’t prove to be too difficult, you hear.”

  Sheriff Zeddman never knew he’d be so wrong.

  After taking official statements, Zeddman and Coleman left the hospital room, bid the boys and their parents a good day, and took off down the elevator. It was then that Sheriff Zeddman told his deputy everything he’d learned at the coroner’s office.

  “My God,” Deputy Coleman said, his mouth agape. “Davey Crockett in a pocket! That’s the weirdest story I’ve ever heard. A killer with a pet bat.”

  “Oh, I know,” Sheriff Zeddman said as they exited the hospital and entered their respective cruisers. “I know.”

  ***

  Usually, Saturday was considered a great night for horror club meetings. And despite the debacle that occurred during the football game, Saturday still seemed like a good night for a meeting of the Cool Kids Horror Lover’s Club. That was – until Mason was unable to locate a few of his friends.

  Perhaps locate was the wrong word – Mason hadn’t attempted to physically find any of them. But only Alex and Ben answered their phones.

  “Where could they be?” Mason asked over his headset.

  “Matthew… he wasn’t at the football game,” Ben said.

  “I just thought of something terrible, guys,” Alex said.

  “Yeah?” Mason asked.

  “Matthew saved us at school from Jason and Harry… aka the toxic twins… what if they jumped him before they got to the football game?”

  “And stabbed him!” Ben gasped.

  “Shut up,” Mason argued. “Nah. There was no blood on their pocket knives when they pulled them out on us.”

  “They coulda totally wiped the blood after,” Ben said.

  “Shut up!” Mason told repeated. “That didn’t happen!”

  “I mean, I hope not either,” Alex said, his slurping of some drink could be heard over their earpieces. “I was just theorizing.”

  “I don’t want to think Matthew’s dead,” Ben said grimly. “I’d kill them for killing him.”

  “They’d chew you to pieces,” Mason told him.

  “That wouldn’t stop me from trying.”

  “I think Matthew just wasn’t feeling well,” Alex said. “He said he was sick on Friday morning. He’s just down over the weather.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s ‘under the weather’,” Mason corrected him. “At least where I’m from.”

  Mason could practically see Alex shrugging, or at least imagined him doing so.

  �
��And how about Sebastian?” Ben asked.

  “The less of him, the better,” Alex said. When he noticed his friends weren’t laughing, he added, “I’m just joking. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

  “He didn’t seem the same. Didn’t act the same” Mason said.

  “You mean after we found him,” Alex said.

  “Yeah that’s what I’m talking about,” Mason said.

  “He wasn’t his usual self, that’s for sure,” Ben agreed. “But none of us were.”

  “Sebastian thought he was going to die. Just like the rest of us,” Alex added. “And he kinda got left behind.”

  “You’re saying he might be traumatized?” Mason asked.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Alex said.

  Ben agreed. “I’m more concerned with Seb than Matthew. Matthew’s just sick. Seb went through something bad last night.”

  “You don’t think they did something to him in the woods, do you?” Mason asked.

  “I don’t know, he didn’t have anything to say when your mom drove us home,” Ben answered.

  “Maybe we should check on him,” Alex suggested.

  Mason agreed. “It’s not much of a club meeting when we’re missing two of our members. We bike to Seb’s place this evening.”

  “Agreed,” Ben said.

  “I second that,” Alex said.

  “You can’t second that because I was the second person to agree,” Ben told him.

  “No, you were the first person to agree. Mason can’t agree with himself.”

  “Stop arguing. As long as we’ve all agreed, we’ll go,” Mason said through muffles in his headset.

  “Well,” Alex said. “I can’t leave before dinner. Mom won’t let me. But any time after that is cool.”

  “How’s six sound for everyone?” Mason asked.

  “Sure, works for me,” Ben said.

  “So it’s settled – we’ll bike to Sebastian’s place to check on him,” Mason said.

  In the hours that past, each of the three boys had dinner at their respective houses. By six o’clock the sun had already tipped itself to the horizon. It always got late pretty early out in Corpus.

  So in the last remaining hour of sunlight that Saturday would hold, the boys met up outside of the lot where Alex’s double wide was located. Together they biked off into the sunset. A car could have gotten them to Sebastian’s house in no more than eight minutes, but the ride by bicycle took twenty.

  The air at dusk had become cool. Notably, the air in Corpus, Georgia being cool was different from air being cool anywhere else. Whenever the temperature hit sixty in Corpus, the town would bundle up as if a snowstorm were approaching.

  They dropped their kickstands and approached the front door when they arrived at Sebastian’s home. It was a small one-story house nestled toward the back of an old suburb. The bushes were wild and the grass was unkempt – it appeared as if it hadn’t been cut in months.

  Mason knocked.

  A bespectacled Latin man wearing overalls answered the door. He had salt and pepper hair with matching stubble.

  “Hey, Mr Cortez,” Mason smiled the widest grin he could muster. “Is Seb home?”

  “Hello boys. Yeah, sure he is. Would you three like to come in?”

  The boys stomped their feet upon the outdoor mat and made their way into the house. It was dimly lit, as if the light bulbs only half worked. The walls were made of paneled wood. The furniture in the Cortez home was just as old as the furniture in Mason’s house.

  “Would you boys like some lemonade?” Mr Cortez asked them.

  “No, sir, maybe next time,” Mason answered. “We just wanted to see Seb.”

  “Sure, sure,” Mr Cortez answered. “Right this way. You’re Mason, right? And Alex and Ben. Though I’m not sure which is which.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ben said.

  “Yeah,” Alex nodded shyly. “We’ll go cover that some other time.”

  “Alright, follow me. Mind you, Sebastian’s been pretty quiet today. Refused breakfast. Came out of his room once to eat dinner. Had maybe five bites then headed back to his room.”

  “Wow,” Ben whispered.

  “Wouldn’t say much to his mother either before she left for the evening shift. Only told her he didn’t wonna be bothered by anyone.”

  “Well, if we shouldn’t be here,” Alex stammered.

  “No, no. It’s alright,” Mr Cortex waved a hand around. “You’re his friends and I know how you guys are. Respond more to each other than you do any parent. Amirite?”

  Mason let out a faint laugh as Mr Cortez walked them down an extremely tight hallway. When Mason said to himself that the house was small – he meant tiny – tiny tiny. They had entered the house and immediately came upon the old furniture in the living room – located right next to the kitchen. Now they were down the hall, which housed the home’s only two bedrooms. And that was it for the entire dwelling.

  Mr Cortez knocked on the last door at the hall.

  “Sebastian, your friends are here.”

  No one answered.

  Mr Cortez knocked again.

  “Sebastian, you hear me? Your friends are here to see you.”

  “Okay, come in!” Sebastian called out from the other side of the door. His voice dour.

  Mr Cortez opened the bedroom door. Sebastian was sitting on his bed, his hands in his lap. He looked up at his newly arrived guests.

  “Hey,” Sebastian whispered with a weak smile.

  “Hey!” Mason waved and entered his room. Alex and Ben followed.

  “I hope you boys can get to him,” Mr Cortez said. “Do your best.”

  “Sure thing,” Ben shrugged.

  “If you guys need anything I’ll be in the living room nursing an ice cold beer and catching up on The Walking Dead,” Mr Cortez laughed as he shut the door behind them.

  Mason sat on the bed next to Sebastian. Alex and Ben pushed a pile of clothes off two chairs in the room and sat down.

  “So,” Alex said. “How you been?”

  Sebastian looked at him. His weak smile fading. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Do you have your phone on?” Mason asked. “We tried calling.”

  “Oh, I’m sure the battery’s dead,” Sebastian said, speaking softly. “I haven’t charged it up since yesterday.”

  “Oh,” Ben said, surprised. “Well we were looking for you. We were playing a campaign all day.”

  “And we couldn’t get Matthew either,” Alex added. “But we think he’s just sick.”

  “Oh,” was all Sebastian said.

  “Seb, what’s wrong?” Mason asked him plainly.

  Sebastian just looked at him.

  “Is it about last night?” Mason continued questioning him.

  Sebastian nodded his head up and down.

  “Did they hurt you?” Alex asked, concerned.

  “Not exactly, no,” Sebastian. “But kinda. I was so scared.”

  “I know,” Mason said, putting his head down. “We all were.”

  Sebastian placed his hand up to his throat. “They put a blade to my neck.”

  “Jesus,” Ben whispered.

  “They were gonna slit my throat. I was about to die last night,” Sebastian told them.

  “How… how did you get away?” Alex asked him. “You never told us.”

  “I didn’t?” Sebastian asked.

  “No, you didn’t say anything, really. Not after we found you in the woods,” Mason answered.

  “I can barely describe it,” Sebastian answered. “The blade. It felt like it both happened so quickly and took forever. They tried to kill me. But someone saved me.”

  “Who?” Alex asked.

  “He said his name was Gregory.”

  “Gregory… Who the hell’s Gregory?” Ben asked.

  “Looked like a high schooler. He was dressed in black.”

  “And he saved you from Harry and Jason both?” Mason asked with a deep curiosity, desiring an answer. Ju
st how could one high school kid stop two boys armed with pocketknives.

  “Yeah. They didn’t stand much of a chance against him. He wasn’t even armed. Not that I noticed.”

  “Wicked,” Ben’s eyes lit up. “So he just kicked their asses?”

  “Yeah,” Sebastian answered. “I remember one of them tried to stab him. He took their switchblade and stuck it in Harry’s hand.”

  “WHOA,” Mason, Alex, and Ben all said together in unison.

  “Yeah,” Sebastian repeated. He made sure to leave out the teenager caressing him, smelling him. And the sheer strength he displayed in dispatching the two boys.

  “I hope nothing like that ever happens again. To you or any of us, Seb” Ben told him.

  Sebastian sat very still. He looked up and addressed them. “I’d never felt anything like that before in my life. Just the sheer emotions running through my head from… everything.”

  “It’s gonna be okay, buddy,” Mason said, patting him on the back.

  “I never got to thank him,” Sebastian said abruptly.

  “All you got is a name?” Alex asked.

  “Yeah, just Gregory,” Sebastian lied. He had, in fact, remembered more than than that. Gregorious Velstall.

  “I’m just glad you’re okay,” Mason answered. “If there’s anything else you wonna talk about, we’re here. We totally understand.”

  “Thanks,” Sebastian said and hugged him – likely due to the fact that Mason was the boy closest to him.

  “Yeah, we’re all here for you, Seb,” Alex nodded. “Definitely,” Ben agreed.

  “Well, we’re not here to keep you,” Mason said and stood up.

  “Guys,” Seb said, confusing thoughts still whirring through his head. “Thanks for stopping by. I know what real friends are now.”

  Ten minutes later, Mason, Alex, and Ben were back on their bikes riding to their homes. They’d said bye to Sebastian and made their way out of his front door, past his dad slouching on a sofa, beer his hand – just as promised, and left.

  While riding down a street in the dark of night, each with bike headlights turned on, Alex pointed out in the distance what looked like a dozen blue flashing lights.

  “What’s that!?” Alex called out.

  “I don’t know,” Mason called back. “Let’s find out!”

  The three of them took a detour down Old Mill’s Road. They rode closer and closer to the flashing strobe lights atop police cruisers.