Frisbee Read online

FORTY-SIX

  No one stopped me or gave me any problems on the way out. I went the same way we’d come in, by Urgent Care. The guys were sitting on a low painted wall at the north end of the parking lot, Frisbee at their feet. Cory was just tossing his empty Styrofoam cup onto the ground when I walked up.

  Although I had only been separated from Steve and Jason for a few minutes, I had thought they would have all left me behind and been back on Cottonwood by the time I got out of the building. But I had underestimated them. They wouldn’t have bailed out on me. That’s not what pals do. We had always looked out for one another as best we could and I felt a twinge of shame for even thinking that they would leave me.

  “Damn,” Steve said, standing up. “We were getting worried. We thought that old broad got you.”

  “Naw,” I muttered trying to avoid eye contact. I wasn’t sure right then if I should mention my encounter with Donald. The story I had told him seemed sort of personal; something that only he and I should share. Though if he had even actually heard it…

  We headed out to Magnolia and began walking back toward our houses, staying on the same dirt shoulder we had used for our walk up.

  “So what happened, Ricky?” Jason asked. “When you turned down that hallway and I saw that lady chase after you, I thought you were a goner.”

  Steve said, “Yeah, when I said split up, I thought Jason would go off by himself and you and I would stay together. Hide out or something, you know?”

  “I found a place to hide,” I told them, staring down at my feet while we walked. Frisbee had trotted out into the field at our right and was scaring birds into flight out of the tall, yellow grass. The bandana tied around his neck made me think of the story I had just told. It was Frisbee I had thought of when I described the dog in the tale.

  “It must have been a pretty good hiding spot since no one found you,” Jason said. “Me, I just turned down another hall and went back outside with Cory and Fris. Steve came around from the back about a minute later.”

  “When I went the other way, I didn’t know where I was at first,” Steve explained. “I had to take a few different halls until I found a door with an exit sign over it. When I went outside I was near the helicopter pad. I could see Stallings so I knew I was behind the hospital. I caught up to Jason and Cory and Fris just as they were walking out to the street. I thought they were leaving us behind.”

  “Naw,” Jason said. “We were just going to wait over at the wall. That way if that lady or the security guard came out we could get away and would be able to see you guys come out too.”

  “A couple more minutes and we were going to go back inside to look for you, Ricky,” Steve told me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “We wouldn’t have left without you. You know that, right?”

  I nodded. It reassured what I had thought the moment I saw them there on that wall, waiting.

  “No man gets left behind,” Steve affirmed in a militaristic tone.

  “I saw Donald,” I said quietly. They were my friend after all and I decided I wouldn’t keep that from them.

  The guys were silent for a moment and I thought that they hadn’t heard me. I looked up at them to say it once more when Cory said, “Donald Miller? Come on.”

  “I did,” I told them with a straight face.

  The four of us stopped at the corner of Magnolia and Fullerton and Steve gave one of his two fingered whistles to get Frisbee to come to us. The dog’s head immediately shot up from the grass and looked around until he found us. Bounding over, he met us at the intersection. As we crossed the street toward the construction site and then over Fullerton to Dead Grove, I told them how once we were separated I had run down the hall, away from them, and found the open door to Donald’s room. I explained that at first I was just looking for a janitor’s closet or something to hide in but once inside heard the breathing of the ventilator and found him, in bed, with tubes and wires sticking out of his body. I left out the part about the story of the dog and the ogre. Even though they were my friends, that story was for Donald only.

  “That’s crazy,” Steve said. “I feel bad for his parents. It sucks that their only child has to go through that. And, that they have to go through that too.”

  We all nodded in agreement as we turned down the back trail through Dead Grove. I thought then how all those rows of trees must have looked long ago when Corona was new, bright, green and sunny. Oranges as big as softballs making the branches droop. What had happened to the grove? Had something killed it off? Had the owner just given up and cut off its life giving water supply? Was there a way to bring them back to life or were they gone forever? Or had they grown that way, dead?

  Frisbee charged up one of the dilapidated rows in search of something to chase; a squirrel or lizard perhaps. Jason picked up a rock and threw it as far as he could down the trail where it landed in a puff of dust. I kicked at a stick that sent dirt up onto my shoe.

  “Did you tell Cory that we saw that guy Rod at the hospital?” I asked Jason.

  Jason smiled and said that he had. While they were waiting for me in the parking lot, Jason had told them about our trip to Magnolia Glen the Monday before as well.

  “I was telling him about that day when you and I went up to the construction site and he caught us collecting bottles in one of the houses. Cory remembered that you found that shoelace up there and now he’s got a theory of his own.”

  When Steve had read the second newspaper article to us at the Tree it had said that the first girl’s body had been found with a shoelace around her neck. We had assumed that she had been strangled by the missing shoelace from the package I had found on the stack of dry-wall in the house at Magnolia Glenn.

  “Theory, hell,” Cory spat. “I mean the guy is new in town. He’s the foreman or whatever at the construction site. The shoelace just happens to be on his job. I mean come on. You do the math. That guy killed those girls.”

  Steve shook his head. “It’s called evidence, Cory. Usually when someone commits a murder they try to get rid of that stuff. They don’t just leave it lying around, out in the open for someone to find.”

  “Well, I never even met the guy, but I say he did it,” Cory said. “You know what we should do? We should go up there one night and lock him in his trailer while he sleeps. Call the cops on him. We could be heroes, you know?”

  Steve and Jason chuckled. Even I smiled at the silly idea.

  “What?” Cory asked.

  “You don’t know he did anything,” Steve told him. “You have no proof.”

  “Well what about you?” Cory countered. “You think that Mark was the one killed those girls. You even said so earlier.”

  “Listen,” Steve said, stopping Cory. Stopping all of us. “I didn’t say that Mark was the one who did those things. All I said was what if he did. I mean shit, he had all those pictures. He’s a sick jerk and I said we just needed to keep our eyes open. See if he’s doing anything strange. Plus, he’s new in town too.”

  Steve crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Cory’s reply. It took him a moment but he had one.

  “Well there you go,” he explained. “They’re both new to town. One had pictures of little girls and one had the shoelace on his job site. Maybe they’re in it together. Maybe they take the girls up there to the construction site and sacrifice them. Like a satanic ritual or something.”

  “God, Cory,” Jason said. “You can’t be that dumb.”

  Cory looked a bit hurt that his best friend had insulted his intelligence. “Hey, screw you, Sinfield! All I was trying to say was…”

  “There you are you little piece of shit,” a voice said from behind and we turned quickly to see who it had come from. “I been looking for you, you little faggot fuck.”

  Coming up through one of the tangled rows of trees, pushing branches out of his way, kicking aside trash to clear a path was Mike Wood. The last time we had seen him he had been sitting on the stairs that led down into Acacia. It was on the same day w
e had met Rod at his job site and were taking our bottles down to the 7-Eleven to cash them in for money when we happened upon him. Cory had hocked a huge loogey in his face and we had gone running off just as fast as we could.

  And now he had found us.

  His hair was just as messy now as it had been then, his clothes just as shabby as the last time. They might have even been the same ones. Who knew how often he changed or showered?

  He walked right up to a frozen Cory and without hesitation put him in a headlock. “Now you’re gonna pay for what you did you little douche bag. You hear me? HUH? DO YA?” He punctuated each sentence with a twist of his arm.

  Jason and I backed up, giving them room. We knew Mike wasn’t all that stable and a little panic set in. Steve was a bit calmer.

  “Hey, Mike,” he said, softly. “Hey, take it easy, man. What happened, huh? What did Cory do to you?”

  “Shut the fuck up and stay back,” Mike yelled.

  He had that same wild look in his eyes as he had had the other day, like he was coming down off something. He reeked of stale cigarettes and booze and he had what appeared to be dried blood caked on one hand.

  Steve walked around so he was facing Mike. “Listen, whatever he did I’m sure he’s sorry. Why don’t you let him go and I’ll bet he can explain it to you, alright?”

  But Mike just shook his head, continued choking Cory. He had eight years and about fifty pounds on him as well. And although Mike was skinny, Cory was no match for him.

  “Please, Mike.”

  As Cory’s face turned from red to purple Mike seemed to ease up for a moment. “Fine, I’ll let him explain.”

  He let Cory out of the headlock who quickly gulped air. Bending over, hands on his knees, sucking sweet oxygen deep into his lungs, his face slowly returned to it normal color.

  “I…I…,” Cory tried to get it out but he seemed to be choking on his words. Face to face with Mike he began again. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to…”

  “Yeah?” Mike demanded. “You didn’t mean to what, you turd?”

  Tears were leaking from Cory’s eyes now. “I didn’t mean to… spit in your face.”

  Mike took a quick look at each of us and then turned back to Cory. “Say sorry, asshole and I might not give you a beating. Say it now!”

  Cory stood up straight; his breathing had become more even, and said, “I’m sorry.”

  Raising his hands and once again looking over at us, Mike said, “See. Now was that so hard?”

  Steve, Jason and I relaxed a bit. It seemed that Mike was going to except Cory’s apology and he just might have if Cory hadn’t gone and opened up his stupid, smart mouth again.

  “Wait, wait,” he said, waving his hand in Mike’s face. “You didn’t let me finish. “I said I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spit in your face. I meant to spit in your whore mom’s face. I mistook your ugly ass for-“

  Cory’s words were cut short as Mike slammed a fist into his gut, knocking the wind out of his lungs and him to the ground. Why Cory had to always make matters worse was beyond us. Maybe it was just his nature. Or maybe he was just a hyper kid who spoke before he thought. Either way, sometimes it seemed as if he really deserved what he got.

  But he was still our friend.

  “Mike,” Steve shouted.

  “No,” he yelled back, pointing a finger first at Steve and then at Jason and me. “You stay out of this. All of you. He had his chance and he fucked that up. All he had to do was say sorry. Now he’s really gonna get it.”

  Cory lay on the ground next to tumble weeds and discarded cardboard boxes, gasping for air like a dying fish. We wanted to help him so badly but we were scared out of our wits. This kid, this older boy, was keeping us at bay with just his icy, hateful stare.

  But somewhere deep down inside, Jason must have found a bit of courage, because he took a few steps toward Mike and said, “Please, man. Leave him alone. We promise we won’t ever bother you again.”

  Mike took a step toward Jason, cocked back his fist and screamed, “NO DICE!” Jason flinched, closed his eyes, but the punch never came. Instead, Mike went back to Cory and sat down on his legs, straddled him. “Now, you’re gonna see what happens to people who fuck with me. I’m gonna do to you what I did to that little bitch last night.”

  Sitting on Cory, Mike reached back and lifted his shirt, pulled a steak knife from his waistband. It looked similar to the ones you might find on any kitchen counter cutlery set. A wooden handle, a six inch serrated blade. What appeared to be dried blood stained the metal making it look rusty and mean.

  “Oh, God, he’s going to kill him,” Jason said. The words sent a flood of adrenalin through my body and made my ears ring.

  “No, no, no, Mike,” Steve pleaded. “This isn’t worth it. You can’t do this. Think about it.”

  He pointed the blade at Steve and said, “Hanel, the only reason why I haven’t shoved the sharp end of this up your ass yet is because I’m friends with your brother. Although I bet he wouldn’t lose any sleep if I did. He’s always saying how much he hates your fucking guts.” Steve flinched as if he’d been slapped. “But if you don’t shut your mouth…right…now, I might just do Jacob that favor. And as for your two butt buddies there, if I’m in the mood, they’re next.”

  Now I just felt like crying and I think my eyes actually welled up. I didn’t want to see anybody get hurt or killed, especially myself.

  How had we gotten into this situation? This was nuts. Things like this didn’t happen to us. It had to be a bad dream. It just had to be.

  But it was happening. We were about to watch our friend die.

  Mike turned his attention back to Cory who lay beneath him, fighting for air. He flipped the knife around so the blade was pointing down at Cory’s chest, grabbed Cory’s throat.

  “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll do it fast. One quick one to the heart. You probably won’t even feel it,” Mike said calmly.

  I looked over at Steve who was frantically searching the ground around him.

  Mike brought the knife up about a foot above Cory’s sternum.

  Steve reached into the weeds and picked up a chunk of discarded concrete.

  Everything seemed to move in slow motion at that point. I looked to Jason who was yelling, “No!” then to Steve who was cocking his arm back to launch his projectile, over to Mike who was holding that knife that would have been more at home on a dinner table than in a barren orange grove.

  I thought that all hope was gone, but then I saw him. And at the last moment, I turned to Steve and grabbed his wrist just before he threw. “No,” I said. “You might hit Frisbee.”

  As he turned to look at me with eyes that suggested that I may have cost our friend his life, the dog barreled out of the bushes and slammed into Mike, clamping his teeth onto his wrist, knocking him off of Cory.

  We were all stunned into silence. All except Mike who began to scream like a girl as Frisbee bit down harder, forcing him to drop his weapon into the trash strewn overgrowth.

  “Ow, ow,” Mike squealed. “Get him off me. Get him off.”

  After a long moment, Steve spoke. “Whoa, where’d he come from?”

  Jason ran over to help Cory to his feet. “Come on. We’ve got to go,” he said.

  On the ground, Mike took a swing at Frisbee who let go of his arm and quickly dodged the blow. He tried to get up but the dog bit his thigh, sending him down once again, a high, shrill cry erupted from his throat.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Steve said. “Frisbee. Come boy.”

  He let go of Mike who was now writhing in agony. “You sons of bitches,” he yelled. “I’ll get you for this. All of you.”

  The five of us made a hasty escape back toward our houses, going through the alley next to the Maherrin’s and up and over the fence. We all helped Cory as best we could who was still reeling from the gut shot he had taken.

  When we were back on Cottonwood, Jason asked, “Cory, you want to come over to our hous
e and clean yourself up so your mom doesn’t see you like that?”

  Cory didn’t speak to any of us, just shook his head and walked away. We watched him until he got to his front door, wondering how badly Mike had hurt him.

  To us, Steve said, “I don’t know about you guys but I don’t want to be out here if Mike comes this way. I’ll see you later. Come on Fris.”

  “Yeah, Jason said. “See ya. Let’s go home, Ricky.”