The Wildman

Chapter FIVE

Late Night Stroll





Sometime before midnight, the wind died down, and the clouds passed. Jeff was the first one to notice that the sky was clearing. A cold silvery glaze of moonlight lit the landscape like a coating of frosting. High-blown clouds racing across the face of the moon created a dizzying strobe-light effect. Every now and then, a strong gust of wind would slam against the old building, making the windows rattle and the wallboards and rafters creak. The fire was still roaring away, though, and the dining room was warm … almost cozy.

Almost …

Jeff and his friends had been talking and drinking for hours, their conversation punctuated every now and then when someone got up to get something to eat or, more likely, get another drink. Although he’d been looking forward to getting loaded this weekend with these guys, Jeff had eased off the rum and was sipping a Sam Adams lager Tyler had given him.

Try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about what—if anything—he had seen outside. He wanted to believe he’d been jumping at shadows, seeing things that weren’t really there and scaring himself … just like he had when he was a kid. But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself he was just spooking himself, he couldn’t stop thinking there was something seriously wrong about this weekend. Something wasn’t adding up. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“How ‘bout you, Jeff?” Tyler asked, leaning forward and looking at him with arched eyebrows.

“Huh?”

Jeff realized he’d been lost in thought, not paying the least bit of attention to what his friends had been talking about.

“I missed that.”

Tyler sighed shook his head. Everyone was looking at him like he’d lost it or something. A flush of heat warmed his cheeks and the back of his neck.

“We were talking about how it might be cool if we—all of us—maybe buy into Evan’s development here,” Mike said.

“You mean like a joint venture?”

“Yeah. We could form an association and get a time share on a single unit.” Mike said.

“We could each have a couple of weeks every summer on the lake,” Fred added. “Just like old times.”

“It would definitely not be like old times,” Jeff said.

“Yeah,” Mike said, “but we could have a reunion one weekend a year.”

“Without wives and kids,” Tyler said, and Mike quickly added, “—or significant others.”

Jeff gave it hardly a thought before he shrugged and, looking at the group, said, “Sure. Might not be a bad idea.”

All he was thinking was, First we have to get through this weekend and see what we think of each other.

They hardly knew each other, and here they were, casually talking about a substantial commitment of time and money when they didn’t even know if one or more of them were complete a*sholes. Hoping to play it off, Jeff stretched out his arm and glanced at his wristwatch.

“Christ! It’s almost two in the morning.” He stifled a yawn behind the back of his hand. “What say we grab a little shut-eye.”

“You always were a p-ssy,” Tyler said. A wide grin split his face.

“Not really.” Jeff smiled back at him. “I was just always the sensible one. Unlike you, over the years I’ve learned to pace myself. I’m thinking about getting up early and taking a hike around the campgrounds.”

Even before he finished the sentence, a shiver took hold of him because he realized the first place he’d go would be down to the shore where the docks had been … where he had last seen Jimmy Foster dead on a stretcher.

“There’s not much left of things,” Evan said. “Everything’s so grown up. I could hardly figure out where the ball field was.”

“How ‘bout one more beer,” Mike said, and before anyone could respond, he started digging into his cooler.

“Can I snag one, too?” Fred asked. Without a word, Mike tossed a bottle of beer over to him.

“Anyone else?” Mike asked.

“You guys can stay up as late as you want,” Jeff said. “I’m a heavy sleeper. Your yacking won’t bother me.”

That was a total lie, but he wasn’t about to get between them and their fun. Truth was—especially since Susan left—he was lucky to get five hours of sleep a night.

Turning his back to the fireplace, he adjusted his sleeping pad and then fluffed up his sleeping bag and pillow. He was positioned off to one side, wanting to keep as close to the fire as he could in case it got really cold during the night. He remembered nights when they were campers when the temperature dropped down close to freezing. And that had been in July. He couldn’t imagine what an October night would be like, but he was about to find out.

Since there was no running water, he couldn’t wash up or brush his teeth … not unless he went down to the lake, and he wasn’t about to do that. Maybe in the morning he’d give it a try. After striping down to his boxer shorts and t-shirt, he slipped into the sleeping bag, shivering from the cool touch of the fabric. He put his head inside the sleeping bag and blew out several puffs of hot air, hoping to warm up quickly.

Once he was settled, though, Jeff wasn’t the least bit sleepy. He lay with his back to the fire and listened as his friends talked on into the night. The conversation wandered all over the place as they talked about their lives, their jobs, the people in their lives—wives, ex-wives, and kids—as well as sports and finances, where they went to college, and generally how they saw their lives going.

Jeff found it soothing to listen to them without having to participate, and he started dozing off as their voices rose and feel as regularly as the waves, washing against the sandy beach outside.

Eventually, their voices toned down and faded. Jeff wasn’t sure if he was falling asleep or if his friends were finally succumbing to sleep. Everybody had their limits.

* * *

Sometime later, Jeff awoke with a start.

It was still dark, but he heard … something out of the ordinary that had set off an alarm inside his head?

Holding his breath, he sat up and looked around.

The fire had burned down low, and the dining hall was much darker than it had been throughout the evening. It felt a lot colder, too. Shadows in the rafters looked thicker and seemed to be closer. Grunting softly, Jeff turned and looked at the fire. It was just a pile of glowing coals that cast a warm, vermilion glow. He looked at the mounded humps of his friends as they slept in their sleeping bags. They were arranged on the floor like the spokes of a wheel with the fire as the hub. One of them—he was sure it was Mike—was snoring with a series of loud, blubbering snorts.

But that wasn’t what had torn him from sleep.

He considered getting up and putting a few more logs on the fire, but he was nice and toasty where he was. He wished he could lie back down and go back to sleep, but he was still bothered by whatever had awakened him. After another moment or two, he realized what it was.

There were only three people asleep on the floor.

Someone was missing.

Jeff’s teeth started chattering as he sat up and, leaning forward, tried to figure out who was missing. It didn’t take him long.

It was Evan.

Evan wasn’t there.

He scanned the shadows that filled the dining room, realizing now that the sound that had disturbed his sleep had been the creaking of floorboards …

As if someone had gotten up and was sneaking around.

A stronger, deeper chill took hold of Jeff, shaking his shoulders as he looked down the short, dark hallway to the door that led out onto the porch.

Had he also heard the faint twanging sound of the spring as the door opened and Evan went outside?

It was too dark to see anything in the hallway except the faint, gray smudge of night beyond the screen door. For all he knew, Evan was standing right outside the door. Jeff wouldn’t be able to see him.

What business of his was it, anyway, what Evan did?

They were adults now, not campers who had to sneak around. Besides, Evan owned the island and everything on it. It was his property. He could do whatever he wanted.

But he couldn’t get rid of the thought that it hadn’t been a noise Evan had made that had awaken him. He tried not to imagine the restless ghost of Jimmy Foster lurking in the night outside the dining hall, a pale, tattered remnant in the patchy moonlight.

“Screw it,” Jeff whispered.

He wanted to go back to sleep and forget all about it, but now that he was awake, he had to find out what was going on. His teeth were chattering as he slipped out of the sleeping bag and scrambled to put on his clothes before he got too cold. He cast a wary eye at his three sleeping friends, expecting one of them to sit up and ask what the hell was going on.

The truth was, he had no idea what was going on, but he was determined to find out.

Even if it was as innocent as Evan getting up to take a piss, Jeff wanted to figure out what had awakened him.. He wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep until he did.

After getting his pants on, he put on the socks he had worn yesterday and his sneakers. His legs were stiff from the cold, and his hip ached from sleeping on the floor. His knees popped when he stood up, and he had to rotate his arms to get the circulation going. He was still shaking from the cold when he tiptoed across the floor and down the hallway to the side door.

He almost laughed out loud as he wondered why he was sneaking around like this.

It would be hilarious if he ended up scaring the be-jezus out of Evan, who in all likelihood really had just gotten up to use the Port-a-Potty. After all the rum and beer he’d consumed earlier, Jeff was surprised his bladder wasn’t screaming for relief, too.

The floorboards creaked with every step he took. The sounds made him cringe and set his teeth on edge, but he realized this sound was exactly what had broken into his sleep.

When he got to the door, he looked outside. The ground was bright with splashes of moonlight that filtered through the pines. The black shadows of tree trunks stood out in harsh relief against the moonlit glow. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Jeff realized Evan wasn’t standing on the porch.

Jeff paused and listened. The only sound was the crackling of the fire and the heavy breath of his sleeping friends in the dining hall.

So what’s he doing?

Jeff placed his fingertips on the screen door and started to push it open. The twanging sound the spring made as it stretched open made him cringe. The sound seemed loud enough to wake the sleepers, but Jeff glanced back and saw that no one had stirred.

Except for Evan … For some reason, Evan’s up and about at this hour … Doesn’t he ever sleep?

Jeff wondered why he was so mistrustful of Evan. As far as he could see, Evan hadn’t said or done anything so far this weekend that wasn’t completely above board; but a couple of times something he said or the way he reacted to something gave Jeff pause. He couldn’t help but wonder if Evan was up to something. And no matter how much he tried to stop his thoughts from going in a particular direction, he couldn’t help but think it had something to do with what had happened to Jimmy Foster.

Or it all could be because of his own lingering guilt he’d dredged up since coming back to Camp Tapiola, or what was left of it?

When the screen door was open just enough for him to slip outside, he stepped out onto the porch and eased the door quietly closed behind him. His vision had adjusted to the darkness inside the dining hall, so the bright moonlight bathing the campgrounds was enough to hurt his eyes.

Off to the right, he heard the steady sound of small waves, lapping against the shore. Overhead, the wind, whenever it gusted, whistled in the pines. The sound was faint and lonely, like someone hissing a warning for him to be quiet. The resinous scent of pine filled his nose, but beneath that, he caught a hint of something else … something with a dead, rotting taste.

Under the shadow of the porch roof, Jeff walked over to the steps. With every step, the floorboards sagged from his weight. As he looked all around, trying to see where Evan had gone, he felt predatory … like one of those spiders he knew was lurking in the darkness above the rafters of the dining hall. He wasn’t out here taking a piss off the side of the porch, but maybe he was using the Port-a-Potty. Jeff strained to hear but didn’t catch any sounds coming from that direction.

So if Evan isn’t out here, where the hell is he?

Jeff hesitated to step out into the direct moonlight. If Evan saw him and confronted him, he could always say he’d come outside to go to the bathroom, but he was determined to know what Evan was up to.

Maybe if he found out, it would settle the unsettling feelings he had about this whole reunion weekend.

After taking a breath and letting it out slowly between his teeth, Jeff walked down the steps to the ground. He was shivering from the cold, but there was also something bracing … almost magical … about the night. Inky shadows of the pines shifted from side to side as the wind gusted, and clouds raced across the face of the moon. The effect was dizzying, making Jeff feel drunker than he knew he was as he started away from the porch. He kept looking looked for any sign of Evan, and was about to conclude that he was nowhere around when he saw a black silhouette shift against the backdrop of the trees. It disappeared from of sight in an instant, but Jeff knew it was on the path leading into the woods.

Was that him?

A bone-deep shiver griped him.

Or is that Jimmy’s ghost … or maybe our old friend Hobomock?

As Jeff headed in the same direction, walking away from the lake, he told himself it was ridiculous to let his imagination get carried away like this. It couldn’t be anyone except Evan, but Jeff was determined to make sure. He had to find out where he was going this late and what he was up to.

Make it a game, Jeff told himself. Pretend you’re twelve and are sneaking around, spying on people.

Chances were Evan wasn’t up to anything bad. Jeff sniffed with laughter at how foolish he would feel if he started along the path where it would be much darker in the woods, and he stumbled over Evan.

The sensible thing, he knew, would be to go back inside, throw some logs on the fire, and get back into his sleeping bag so he could warm up and sleep. Evan can do whatever he wants to do out there. He obviously was going far enough away from the dining hall so he could have some privacy. How awkward would it be if he found him jerking off out there or something?

What business was it of his, anyway?

He shouldn’t be following Evan around like this?

Still, Jeff had to know. When he stepped out from beneath the trees, the harsh glare of moonlight made him feel vulnerable, as if he had just stepped into a spotlight, and danger was all around him.

He hunched his shoulders protectively as he looked left and right. He felt certain Evan knew he was following him. He probably was already hiding somewhere nearby, watching his every move.

Jeff crossed the open space where the snack bar used to stand. All that remained was a slight depression in the ground and one or two old cement support posts that stuck up from the ground.

Behind that was the forest.

Jeff sucked in a quick breath and held it a long time before he stepped out of the moonlight and into the deep shadows of the trees. His heart was racing in his neck as he strained every sense to figure out where Evan had gone.

There were or, at least, had been well-worn trails winding all through these woods connecting different parts of the camp. The vast network of trails led from the tents to the latrine and dining hall, the meeting hall and the campfire site, the swimming area and the softball and soccer fields. Back when Jeff was a camper, this complicated maze of trails had been as familiar as the streets and shortcuts back home. He and his friends used to run along them day or night without the least concern. Besides, they were on an island, so it was impossible to get lost for very long before you made it to the shore and could follow it back to camp.

But now—for some reason—the forest and what might be left of the trails projected nothing but menace. As Jeff started along the trail—surprised that it was still discernable after more than thirty years—he tensed, ready for something … for anything … to leap out at him from the darkness.

He couldn’t stop wondering why he was so worked up, but he couldn’t deny that there was something about Evan that raised his suspicion. Sneaking off into the woods like this was just one more thing that made Jeff wonder what his old friend was up to.

Slanting bars of silvery moonlight lanced through the pine trees, lighting Jeff’s way with bright splotches of pale light that only made the shadows under the trees that much darker. He paused every now and then and listened for some indication Jeff was somewhere up ahead. The only sound was the hissing of the wind in the pines as the wind gusted. It was too late in the year for crickets or frogs. The soft thud of his feet on the ground seemed strangely amplified in the surrounding darkness.

Jeff made his way along a trail that, he recalled, led out to the tent site where he and his friends used to bunk. He wondered if the latrine was still there. If it was, maybe Evan had come out here to use it instead of the Port-a-Potty.

As he navigated the narrow trail, Jeff realized he was getting disoriented. Even though there was no way he could really get lost, it would be embarrassing as hell if he went too far into the woods and couldn’t find his way back. For all he knew, Evan had already done whatever he had come out here to do and returned. Maybe he’d doubled back on another trail and was already back at the dining hall, wondering where the hell Jeff was off to.

When Jeff reached a fork in the trails, he paused and looked down first one trail, then the other. The one to his right, he knew, led out to the ball fields. The one to his left went past the latrine and then swung around past the old infirmary and finally back to the old tent site.

He doubted the old tent platforms would still be there. Any ropes or canvas that had been left behind when the camp closed would have rotted away long ago. Jeff wondered if Evan was feeling as nostalgic as he was, and had come out here simply to have a look around and reminisce about the old days. He had just decided to head out to the ball fields and see what was out there when a flicker of motion off to his left drew his attention.

Jeff dropped into a crouch and stared to his left, trying to discern what had caught his attention.

The woods got eerily quiet. The trees, swaying in the breeze, made the shadows flicker and wave with a peculiar underwater feeling.

Is that all I saw? Jeff wondered as tension wound up his back. Was it a tree shadow … or maybe a passing cloud?

He hoped so because who knew what had happened on this island in the thirty-five years since there was a camp here?

There could be deer or bear out her, or maybe even someone living out here, camping out illegally.

Before long, Jeff’s knees started to ache, so he straightened up, wincing as his legs extended and his knees popped. The tension in his neck and shoulders was sharp. He knew he should turn around right now and take the quickest path back to the dining hall.

But something urged him on.

He decided to go left and walk past the old latrines and tent areas. This would also take him past the old infirmary. He doubted that old building was still standing, either, but he smiled at a memory. One summer, he must have been nine or ten, he had gotten a bad case of poison ivy … so bad he spent the last three days of that camping season in the infirmary where the camp nurse, Mrs. Stott, practically bathed him in Calamine Lotion. The worst thing was that he’d gotten some on his crotch, and his tent buddies—especially Evan—had teased him unmercifully, asking him how he’d gotten it down there.

Jeff wished he could enjoy the peace and quiet of his late-night walk. He took several deep breaths and looked around, wondering why he couldn’t relax and appreciate the natural beauty that surrounded him. Living in a suburban of Portland, he hadn’t realized how out of touch with nature he’d become. Throughout his life, he had felt as though he had a deep connection with the natural world; but now—actually being in it—he felt differently. All he was aware of was the sense of danger … of something threatening.

The winding path looped around for half a mile. Jeff never saw the old latrine and assumed it, like the old snack bar, had rotted away long gone. Some time years ago someone must have demolished the old buildings and hauled away the lumber because Jeff hadn’t even noticed a depression in the ground. Now he realized he must already be passed it.

It was sad to consider that entire buildings, everything he knew and loved about this place, had rotted away in such a relatively short time. He assumed the infirmary would be gone, too, so he was surprised when he rounded a bend in the trail and saw the old building up ahead.

At a distance, it looked smaller than he remembered, but that had been a typical reaction this weekend. Moonlight edged the sloped roof with fine lines of silver that cast the front of the building into deep shadow. The small roofless porch out front remained, but Jeff couldn’t see if the front door was there or not. There was a large, black rectangle that certainly looked as if the door had been torn off.

Jeff slowly approached the building, trying to take in the flood of memories. It was as though he was moving in slow motion, in a dream. The moonlight cast sharp-edged shadows that rippled across the uneven ground. No matter how hard he tried to imagine it, Jeff just couldn’t accept that this was the same place he remembered from his youth. He wondered if Mrs. Stott was still alive. She must have been in her forties back then, so she would be in her seventies or eighties now. It was very likely she had died years ago, and he had never heard about it. He wished now he had thought to Google her before coming to the reunion, and he made a mental note to do just that when he got home.

Jeff realized he’d been taking short, shallow breaths, and he forced himself to breathe evenly and deeply as he moved closer to the building. When he was only a few feet from the door, he saw that it was still there, intact. It had been painted bright green back when he was a camper. Maybe because it was protected from the elements, the paint hadn’t faded as much as he thought it would have, or maybe in the intervening years someone had repainted it or replaced it. The front steps leading up to the small front porch, he noticed, were missing.

Jeff’s heart was racing fast as he stepped up onto porch, reached out into the darkness, and tried the door handle. It clicked, but when he pushed against the door, it didn’t open.

No surprise there.

Feeling around in the darkness, he found a lock and hasp just above the door handle. It struck him as odd that the building would be locked up like this.

Was there something of value still inside?

Jeff felt the lock more carefully, surprised that he didn’t feel a coating of corrosion on it. Was it new?

Perhaps Evan or some of the construction or surveying crew had been out here and left some equipment behind until next spring. That made some sense, but why not use the dining hall? It was definitely more secure. Besides, in an isolated place like this, anyone who wanted to break in could make as much noise as they liked without disturbing any neighbors, who were a mile or more across the lake.

Jeff gave the lock one last, frustrated tug and then slammed it against the door. Almost immediately, from inside the building, there came a soft thump.

The sound startled Jeff. He froze where he was, thinking there had to be a raccoon or skunk or something inside the building. Probably a big rat. There had been a recent outbreak of rabies in the area among the raccoon population, so Jeff was ready to run if he heard or saw anything else.

But after that first thump, the silence of the night remained unbroken. The sound wasn’t repeated, and no animal came charging around the side of the building to attack. After a while, Jeff realized he’d been holding his breath, so he let it out slowly. Then he turned and walked away.

He followed the trail back to the open area of the campgrounds, feeling a surprising measure of relief when he saw the faint glow of firelight in the windows of the dining hall. He quickened his pace, covering the distance to the building and was practically running by the time he leaped onto the porch and shouldered the door open, unmindful of any noise he was making.

“Christ!” someone shouted. “’S almost four o’clock.”

Jeff drew up short. He realized someone had gotten up while he was gone and placed more wood on the fire. The high blaze was warm and cheery, but as he looked at the sleeping shapes of his friends, no one was stirring. Then he saw that Evan’s sleeping bag was still unoccupied. He jumped when Evan stepped out from the shadowed doorway that led into what used to be the kitchen.

“Where’ve you been?” Evan asked, eyeing Jeff narrowly.

Jeff couldn’t miss the hint of challenge in his voice. He shrugged and rubbed his hands together. “Just out … for a walk.” It took effort to keep his voice from trembling. “It’s a beautiful moonlit night, in case you hadn’t noticed. I woke up and, when I didn’t see you, I went out and strolled around the grounds a bit.”

“See anything interesting?” Evan asked.

There was still a slight threatening tone in his voice, but when he stepped out from the shadows of the doorway, Jeff caught the tight smile that lit his face.

“Nah,” Jeff said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Same old place, far as I can tell.”

He knew he shouldn’t say what he wanted to say next, but no matter how hard he tried to hold it back, it came out anyway.

“So where were you going?”

Evan lowered his gaze and sniffed with laughter as he shook his head and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.

“Like you,” he said simply. “Just out walking. Enjoying the natural beauty.”

“Until your crew comes and tears it all down.”

Evan shrugged as he took a few steps closer to Jeff. Although he had a warm, welcoming expression on his face, Jeff couldn’t help but feel threatened somehow.

Why had Evan been hiding in the shadows like that?

It was almost like he’d been caught doing something he didn’t want Jeff or anyone to see.

“It won’t be as bad as you think,” Evan said. “They—I plan on working around the natural landscape so we can retain as much of the woodsy feel as we can, you know? It doesn’t make much sense to move out to the country and then destroy what you came here for, right?”

“Pave paradise and put up a parking lot,” Jeff said under his breath.

Evan chuckled. “Joni Mitchell had it right, didn’t she?” He yawned as he looked past Jeff. When Jeff turned and looked out the windows, he could see the faintest hint of gray streaks of dawn in the east.

“Morning’s coming, and here we are pulling an all-nighter like a couple of idiots.” Jeff yawned and then looked at their three friends, all sound asleep on the floor in front of the fire. “Lucky bastards,” he said. “Sleeping like little babies.”

“Think we ought to grab an hour or two of shuteye?” Evan asked.

Jeff nodded, but he noticed the odd expression frozen on Evan’s features. It didn’t dispel any of the doubts he’d been having about what his childhood friend’s real motives were for having them out here for the weekend. The sudden paranoid thought crossed his mind that it might not be safe for him to fall asleep, but he pushed it aside as he walked over to his sleeping bag and started taking his clothes off. The air in the dining hall had warmed up from the re-stoked blaze, but his teeth were chattering as he ran the zipper of the sleeping bag down and slipped into it.

“Have a good snooze,” Evan said. “I’ll rouse you around six or seven. I have a fantastic breakfast planned.”

“I’ll bet,” Jeff said as he lay down and rolled over so his back was to Evan. His eyes were grainy with sleeplessness, and his body felt wrung out, but he thought there was no way he’d be able to fall asleep … not as long as he knew Evan was still awake, watching him.

For the next two hours, he lay there with his eyes wide open as he watched the sky to the east gradually brighten. Red and orange streaks flared across the sky like angry welts, and all Jeff could think of was the old sailor’s saying: “Red sky in morning, sailors take warning.”