The Wildman

Chapter TEN

Drowning





Jeff was filled with trepidation when he closed the infirmary door and stepped out into the night. The lock and latch were smashed beyond repair, so if Ben came out here now, he’d know right away that Evan had help escaping. And it wouldn’t take him long to figure out who had done it since Jeff was the only one who had left the dining hall alone.

As he started back to the beach, he shined his flashlight into the woods along the trail, looking for something—a stick or anything—he could use as a weapon. He found a broken birch branch that wasn’t too rotten, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough … not if Ben had a gun.

And he had no doubt Ben had a gun.

From what Evan had told him, he obviously had the whole thing planned out. Jeff wondered if, even now, he was playing into Ben’s hands just the way he wanted. Maybe Ben had even anticipated that he would find Evan, and he couldn’t help but wonder why Ben hadn’t killed all of them already, the first night they were here.

He remembered how on edge he had felt all last night and hadn’t gotten much sleep. Sleep deprivation and raw nerves plus exposure to the rain and cold were starting to take their toll. He was wrung out and weakening; he jumped at the slightest sound. He doubted he’d have the necessary endurance to do what he had to do tonight.

When he rounded a turn in the trail and saw the dining hall, he turned off his flashlight. Gripping the birch stick tightly, he slowed down, moving slowly and ready to react the instant he sensed danger. The overcast looked deeper, and he was afraid it might start raining again soon. He was sure the worst of the storm hadn’t passed.

He wondered how he was going to warn the others about what was going on without alerting Ben.

What if, while he was gone, Ben had already taken killed the others? What if they were dead, and Ben was sitting there, waiting for him to come back?

Or what if—even now—Ben was standing unseen behind him, drawing a bead on him and was about to shoot him without warning?

Jeff shivered as he looked around. Moisture from the trees fell on his face. The visibility wasn’t good, but as he moved forward, getting closer to the dining hall, he saw a faint glow of light far down on the beach.

Something was happening, but he held back, staying out of sight until he figured out what it was. For all he knew, Fred might still be wandering around, stewing about the confession he’d made to them.

Jeff found it easy to imagine he was twelve years old again, playing hide-‘n-seek as he hunkered down in the wet brush. Then, as quietly as possible, he started moving from tree to tree, always keeping cover. He watched both the dining hall and the ever-increasing glow of light on the beach, and when he was about a hundred yards from the beach, he saw a second flashlight beam. They wavered back and forth in the night, sweeping the beach and lake. As he came even closer, the sound of voices came to him, but the gusting wind carried away whatever was said.

One of the beams of light came to rest, fixed on one spot. Two figures were standing there, hunkered over a dark shape lying on the sand. Jeff’s throat closed off when he realized it was a body—a human body.

He had an immediate flashback to that summer long ago when, from almost the exact same spot he was standing now, he watched the emergency workers carry the body of Jimmy Foster out to the waiting warden service boat. For a terrifying moment, he imagined he was seeing that horrible scene reenacted by the ghosts of the people who had been there. It was all too plausible that an event so horrible could have leave a psychic echo, and someone sensitive enough to it could pick up.

Still keeping to darkness under the trees, Jeff moved even closer, straining to hear who was talking and what they were saying. There was a frantic edge in one of the voices, and Jeff realized it was Tyler. Someone else was standing off to one side with his hand to his ear. Judging by the bulk, Jeff guessed it was Mike. He looked like he was trying to make a call on his cell phone. So that left either Ben of Fred, who was leaning over the figure on the ground. Jeff was suddenly sure it was Fred, lying there.

“Jesus,” he whispered, his breath coming out a gray mist that swirled away on the wind. A cold tingling tightened the skin of his face.

“We have to try!” someone—Tyler—shouted in a strained voice.

The figure kneeling down looked up at Tyler. The harsh glare of the flashlight lit his face. Ben shook his head.

He said, “It’s too late.”

Still gripping the birch stick, Jeff stepped forward to find out what was going on. He moved silently, and Mike was the first to realize he was there. He jumped and let out a squeal as he wheeled around.

“Take it easy,” Jeff called out. “It’s just me.” He waved the hand holding the walking stick. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Fred,” Tyler’s voice was low and shattered. “We starting getting worried about him—about both of you—and when we came out looking for you. Evan found him in the water.”

“He either fell in and drown, or else he did it on purpose,” the man posing as Evan said.

Jeff wanted to confront him then and there, but Ben was still trying to—or pretending to—resuscitate Fred, who was lying on his back on the sand. His head was cocked to one side as Ben administered artificial respiration.

“It’s no good,” he said after another few tries. He turned and looked up at Tyler. “He’s gone.”

“Oh, Jesus … Oh, sweet Jesus,” Mike muttered. He began pacing back and forth while pounding his fists against his thighs. His feet kicked up sprays of wet sand.

“You get a signal on your cell yet?” Tyler asked.

Mike shook his head and muttered a curse.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ben said. “It ain’t gonna do any good.”

Jeff eyed him intently, amazed that, even in an emergency like this, he could keep up the façade so well.

But then again, he thought, that’s exactly what he wants, isn’t it? … for all of us to trust him so can kill us?

“He’s not breathing,” Ben said. He reached down and placed his fingertips on Fred’s neck. “And I don’t feel a pulse. Even if we got him to the hospital, I don’t think there’s anything they could do for him. He’s dead or will be before we got off this f*cking island.”

He sat back on his heels and, clenching his fists, pounded the sand in frustration. Jeff was impressed by his acting skills because he knew that’s all this was—an act.

“Christ!” Mike shouted, still pacing back and forth as he repeatedly punched his leg. “Christ all f*cking mighty! What are we gonna do? … What are we gonna do?”

“There’s nothing we can do,” Ben said softly.

Moving stiffly, his face framed by ringlets of wet hair, Ben stood up slowly. When Tyler trained his light onto Fred’s face, Jeff recoiled in horror. The dead man’s tongue was hanging from his opened mouth, looking pale and large, like something he’d tried to swallow and choked on. He eyes were wide and staring, and they held a silvery gleam that looked like mercury.

“Who … who found him?” Jeff asked as he moved closer.

“I did,” Ben said without any hesitation.

Jeff immediately thought that, by admitting it right up front, Ben could deflect any suspicion he’d had anything to do with it. And how did Jeff know he had? Maybe Fred really had been so despondent he killed himself.

Ben picked up his flashlight from the sand and swung the beam onto Jeff, who shielded his eyes against the glare.

“So where the hell were you?” he asked, his voice a mixture of exhaustion and impatience.

Jeff shrugged and, shaking his head, indicated the woods behind him with a feeble wave of his hand.

“Just out walking … I needed some time to think.”

“Really?” Ben said.

Something in his tone of voice made Jeff bristle. He knew Ben was trying to raise at least a hint of suspicion that Jeff might have had more to do with Fred’s drowning than he was letting on.

Nice move, Jeff thought. Put suspicion on me when you no doubt did it.

“Yeah … I … So what the hell happened?” Jeff asked.

“Who the f*ck knows?” Ben bent down and brushed wet sand from his knees. Jeff saw that he was wet up to the waist.

“He was acting suicidal earlier,” Mike said in a low, tremulous voice. “We all saw it, but what if—you know, what if the stuff we were talking about drove him to it?”

“What the f*ck are you talking about?” Tyler snapped. “We didn’t make him do anything.”

“But we were pushing him real hard,” Mike said. His lower lip was pale and trembling. Jeff had a strong suspicion he was afraid they might be held responsible for Fred’s death. “We didn’t … we didn’t realize how much this was affecting him until it was too late, but all that stuff about killing his kid … Jesus! How could anyone live with something like that?”

“We didn’t force him to kill himself,” Ben said with just a touch of disingenuousness in his voice. “He snapped. That’s all there is to it, and there’s nothing any of us could have done to stop him. He’d been living with that guilt for so long that facing it probably drove him over the edge. No one drowned him except himself.”

Jeff caught the reference to drowning and wondered if Ben was using it intentionally to remind him of what had happened to Jimmy.

“Yeah,” Mike finally said, gasping, “but we were the ones who pushed him. He wouldn’t have done this … He wouldn’t have killed himself if we hadn’t badgered him the way we did.”

Jeff wanted to point at Ben and say: “The way you did,” but he turned to Mike and said, “That’s bullshit, and I want you to cut it out. We didn’t force him to do anything. If he was going to kill himself, he was going to do it sooner or later.” He grabbed Mike by the arms and shook him “Think about it. Think about how down he’s been acting all weekend.”

“He didn’t seem all that down to me,” Tyler said. “No more than when he was a kid, anyway.”

Mike apparently wasn’t convinced, either, and he stared long and hard, and Jeff had the feeling he half suspected Jeff might have had more to do with this than he was letting on.

Good work, Ben, Jeff thought. Plant a seed of suspicion and watch it grow.

“We have to get the goddamned boat working so we can bring him to the mainland tonight,” Tyler said, struggling to remain calm. “We have to report this right away.”

He sounded like the most reasonable one here, but Jeff could tell by the way his eyes shifted that he, too, wasn’t far from losing his composure. For some reason, he wondered if this was the first time Tyler had ever seen a dead body. He sure was acting like it was. And once again, the mental image of Jimmy Foster, lying on the stretcher with his throat sliced open rose in Jeff’s mind.

I know what I saw!

Now that Jeff knew what was really going on here, when he looked at Ben, he was ashamed at himself for not figuring it out sooner. Ben looked a lot like a grown-up version of his brother, Jimmy. Jeff realized he probably did catch the family resemblance, at least subconsciously. That’s why he’d been feeling so uncomfortable all weekend about the man he knew was posing as Evan Pike.

It wasn’t memories of Jimmy’s death or childhood fears about the ghost stories their counselor told them in the tent or stupid fears that an Indian spirit named Hobomock actually haunted this island.

There was a killer in their midst, and Jeff was sure he still intended to kill all of them before the night was through.

He’d already gotten Fred.

Jeff wanted to ask Ben why his pants were so wet. Had he struggled with Fred and forced him into the water where he drowned him?

But this wasn’t the time. He had to make sure he had the advantage.

“We’ve gotta cover him up or something and get him off the beach … at least until morning,” Jeff said. He hoped everyone—especially Ben—would take the tremor in his voice as an expression of how nervous he was about what had happened, but when Ben glanced at him, he saw a flicker of suspicion—or was it knowledge?—in his eyes.

“Give me a hand,” Ben said. “We’ll carry him up onto the porch.”

Jeff and Tyler each took one of Fred’s legs while Mike and Ben each took an arm. The mist rolling in from the lake made everything wet, and they kept losing their grip. They almost dropped Fred a couple of times, and it took them a while to get into synch. Eventually they got Fred under the shelter of the porch roof. All of them were panting from the exertion.

“Does anyone’s cell work?” Jeff asked, panting as he leaned against the porch railing. Now was a good time to overpower Ben, but he was beat from the exertion.

They all took out their cell phones, but after checking for service, they shook their heads in disappointment.

“What d’yah expect?” Mike said. “We’re out in the goddamned willy-whacks here.”

Jeff turned to Ben, watching him closely, studying him and trying to read his reaction, but in the darkness under the porch, he couldn’t see Ben’s expression.

“This is so f*cked,” Ben said, lowering his gaze and shaking his head.

Jeff was absolutely convinced Ben had something to do with Fred’s death. It couldn’t have been an accident or suicide. If he was perturbed now, it was only because he hadn’t been able to exact his revenge on all of them yet. Maybe he was getting nerved up to finish the job. If he planned to kill them, as Evan said, would he make his move now? Or was he confident enough to toy with them first?

“So what the hell do we do?” Mike asked, his voice shaking as much from the cold as fear. “We can’t just leave him out here all night. Jesus! The animals will get him.”

Jeff was angry at Mike for not holding it together better. He’d always been the tough guy of the group, and here he was, falling apart like a little kid. If Ben really intended to get revenge for his brother’s death, Jeff wanted to be able to count on Mike and Tyler to hold their shit together.

“I’m freezing my ass off,” Tyler finally said. “And it sure as hell won’t do Fred any good if we stay out here in the f*cking cold and die of hypothermia. Let’s put him in the entryway.”

With that, he opened the door and bent to lift Fred. The others joined in, and before long Fred was lying on the floor just inside the building.

Jeff looked at the warm glow of the fire inside. It was so inviting he wished he could forget about what was happening and not have to deal with this stuff, but he had to find some way to get Mike or Tyler alone and tell them what was really going on.

Tyler went inside, but the others stayed outside on the porch, not saying a word. The wind had died down a bit, and when Jeff looked up, he thought the overcast looked like it was breaking up. Maybe the worst of the storm was past.

“How ‘bout you?” Ben asked Jeff.

“What about me?”

“We could all use a knock of rum to drive out the cold, don’t you think?”

Jeff grunted but made no move toward the door. He was hoping Ben would lead the way inside so he could grab Mike and tell him what he had found out. But Ben lagged behind, leaning against the side of the building, his arms folded across his chest as though challenging Jeff to make the first move.

Is this what it’s gonna be? he thought. A duel of nerves? … All right, then … I’m up for it.

“I think I might grab a smoke first,” Jeff said as he fished into his shirt pocket inside his raincoat. He was sure his cigarettes were ruined from the dampness.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Ben said.

“Oh, there’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Jeff replied. Even in the darkness, he didn’t miss Ben’s reaction. He narrowed his eyes and practically glared at Jeff as if to say—All right, a*shole, I know you know, but I’m gonna get you, don’t you doubt it.

“Mind if I join you?” Ben said.

Jeff hesitated a moment, then shrugged.

“I’d rather be alone, if you don’t mind,” he said. “I need some time to think things through.”

He wished Ben would get the hint and go inside so he could be alone with Mike, and he knew if he went inside now and tried to corner Tyler, Ben would be right there with him. Mike apparently caught the tension and, without another word, went inside, leaving Jeff and Ben on the porch.

Okay … This is it, Jeff thought.

He co0uld easily confront Ben right now. Put him on the spot. Ask him to explain himself. If it came to a fight, unless Ben had a gun with him, Jeff was confident he could take him. He was bigger than Ben, but then again, Ben looked to be in pretty good shape. In any confrontation, it’d be best to have Mike and Tyler for backup. Then, if it came down to a fight, it would be three against one.

But Jeff was sure Ben had a gun. If he was going to kill them because of what he thought they did—or didn’t do— to protect his brother, he would have everything planned so he could isolate each of them and take them one by one.

Fred was the first casualty.

The way Jeff figured it, Ben must have gone out pretending to look for him. When he found him down by the lake, after a brief struggle, he had held him under until he drowned.

So that was his plan. To get them one at a time. Maybe toy with them before he killed them.

The coward’s way, Jeff thought.

Otherwise, while they were sitting around the fire, all cozy and warm, drinking and shooting the breeze, he easily could have pulled a gun and accused them all of being responsible for Jimmy’s death. He could have gotten most of them all at once.

Or why hadn’t he waited until they were asleep and quietly slit their throats?

Jeff shivered, thinking it was a damned good thing he hadn’t slept last night. The lack of sleep might be getting to him now, but he would be sure not to let himself fall sleep tonight. He had to stay alert, ready for anything.

It bothered him that he couldn’t figure out Ben’s game plan, and he wondered if perhaps this guy he assumed was Ben Foster really was innocent.

What if the man he’d found in the infirmary was really Ben Foster … or someone else … and he was setting them up for … something?

Maybe he was using Jeff to kill Ben or whoever this guy was.

That didn’t seem very likely, but how could Jeff know? Evan—or whoever that was out there—certainly looked and smelled like he’d been a prisoner for more than a few days. It would be one hell of an elaborate scheme, but what if he was the real Ben Foster, and this guy Evan was really innocent?

What if he was playing Jeff so he’d do the killing for him?

All of these paranoid thoughts rushed through Jeff’s mind as he stared in silence at Ben, who was still leaning against the wall by the door.

Was he positioned there so he could keep tabs on what was happening inside and outside, or was he nervous, justifiably upset about someone dying on his property?

Jeff shook a cigarette from the pack and offered one to Ben. Jeff’s hand was shaking as handed it to him.

Whoever the f*ck you are, he thought.

“Thanks,” Ben said as he slipped the cigarette into the corner of his mouth.

When he flicked his lighter and held the flame to Ben’s cigarette, Jeff studied the man’s face in the sudden brightness. He didn’t see anything behind the distant, glazed eyes. Then he lit his own cigarette and, leaning his head back, blew a cloud of smoke up at the porch ceiling.

“This is some f*cked-up shit, huh Evan?” he said as the nicotine rush went to his head. He put emphasis on the name but didn’t notice any reaction from Ben … or Evan … or whoever he was.

“Amen, brother,” Ben said, exhaling noisily.

Jeff let the cigarette dangle from his lower lip as he folded his arms across his chest and cocked his butt up onto the porch railing. The wind had lessened but was steady now. It swept the smoke into the night.

“So what do you think’s going on?” Jeff asked.

Ben was silent for a long time. He cocked his head to one side and scratched his cheek.

“I wish to f*ck I knew,” he said. He sounded so sincere.

Jeff took another puff and let the smoke out slowly through his nose.

Now was the time, he knew, to see if he could crack Ben, but Jeff had his doubts. He wondered why he was being so mistrustful of the situation. His lack of sleep made it feel surreal to find himself in a situation like this when all he’d been expecting was a quiet reunion of camp friends.

It was almost impossible to believe that someone was out to kill them.

“I—uh, I think I know,” Jeff said.

“Know what?”

“Know what’s going on.”

“Really.”

Ben took a long drag on his cigarette, but Jeff didn’t like the way his was affecting him, so he snapped it out into the darkness. It hissed and was extinguished when it hit the wet ground.

“Yeah. I do,” Jeff said.

He didn’t like the way he was winding up inside. He remembered the feeling of anticipation he always got when he was up at bat. Year after year, Mike was the star of their tent’s team, but Evan had always been a good player, too, and Jeff had felt driven to compete with them. Every time at bat, though, he got terrible butterflies in his stomach. It was like that now … only worse.

“I went for a walk a while ago.” Jeff lowered his voice as though in the confessional with a priest.

He tensed and waited to see how Ben would react. If he had a gun, what was to stop him from using it right now? Then he could go inside and finish off Mike and Tyler before they had any idea what was happening.

“Doing a little snooping around, were you?” Ben asked.

Jeff couldn’t read Ben’s tone of voice. It was tight and higher than usual, a curious mixture of nervousness and agitation. When Ben took another puff, he sucked hard on the cigarette so the glow lit up his face, giving him a leering, devilish look.

Jeff realized he was blundering into something he might not be ready for right now, but once he’d started, there was no turning back. Before he accused Ben of anything, he wanted the other guys here to witness what he said and how Ben reacted. Easing the dining hall door open and keeping a wary eye on Ben, he stuck his head inside and called out, “Hey! Guys! Come out here a second, will yah?”

“What the f*ck are you doing?”

Ben moved away from the door toward the edge of the porch. He looked like he was coiling up, getting ready to run or fight.

“There’s something I want to ask you about, but I want the others here when I do.”

Jeff’s pulse was hammering so hard it squeezed his throat as he waited to hear or see signs of activity from inside.

“Yo!” he called out. “Hey guys!”

“Just a sec,” Mike shouted from inside, but before Jeff could respond, Ben made his move. A blur of motion in the corner of his eye drew his attention, and then the night exploded with pain as something hard—harder than a man’s fist—slammed into the side of his head. White stars sizzled across his vision, and he rocked back on his heels. His legs almost gave out as the night slammed down with a roaring whoosh. He staggered backwards, waving his arms for balance, but he was barely conscious when the backs of his legs bumped against the porch railing, and his momentum carried him over the edge. He hit the ground, landing on his back, hard enough to knock the wind out of him, but he didn’t lose consciousness. Pain and shock numbed him, but the cold air quickly brought him to full consciousness.

An instant later, the night exploded.

A bright white flash accompanied a loud snap, and something whistled past his ear before hitting the ground with a dull thump.

Jeff looked up at the porch and saw a dark smear of motion. Still dazed, he realized it must be Ben, and he had just shot at him.

“You f*cking a*shole!” Ben shouted.

Jeff knew he was taking aim at him again, so he rolled over on his hands and knees, and scrambled away toward the side of the building.

“What the f*ck’s going on out there?” someone— shouted from inside. It sounded like Tyler, but the ringing in his ears made it impossible for Jeff to know for sure.

As he crawled away over the saturated ground, he cringed, waiting to hear another shot and feel the bullet tear into him.

You never hear the one that kills you, he thought, so even though the sound of the second shot made him flinch and almost piss himself, he was filled with a surge of relief as he staggered to his feet and ran around the side of the building.

“Look out!” he shouted as he turned the corner and started running toward the woods. “He’s got a gun!”

Another bright flash lit up the side of the dining hall the instant a third shot rang out. The bullet clipped a tree trunk close to Jeff’s head, kicking up splinters of bark that sprayed his face but didn’t do any serious damage. He guessed—he hoped Ben couldn’t see him in the darkness. That was his only chance.

Cowering behind one of the pine trees and panting to catch his breath, Jeff looked at the glowing windows of the dining hall. Hopefully Mike and Tyler realized some serious shit was going down and would take cover … or else come out to help him.

“Be careful, you guys!” Jeff yelled, cupping his hands to his mouth. “He’s got a gun and wants to kill us!”

Through the dining hall windows, he saw a flurry of motion. Shadows cast by the firelight shifted crazily across the windows like a dark kaleidoscope. Jeff had no idea if Ben had gone into the building or had jumped off the porch and was coming after him.

Who does he want to finish off first? he wondered as he turned and headed off into the darkness.