Backtracker (2 page)

*****

Chapter 3

Cross Creek.

So that was where
the half
-
drowned man had
arrived
-
Cross Creek State Park. It said so on the wide wooden sign atop the grassy slope which rose from the beach. He would have immediately recognized the place if it
hadn
'
t
been nighttime, or if he
hadn
'
t
been so busy trying to keep himself from drowning. Though he
hadn
'
t
been there for ages, there had been a time in his life when
he'd
passed many hours on that very beach.

Leaning back against the sign, he looked around, remembering long
-
ago summer afternoons. Those days had been full of beach towels and radios and sunshine, warm breezes and bitingly cold lake water that made you holler when you plunged yourself into it. Girls in bikinis would stroll around with cool sodas in their hands, their richly tanned bodies making the boys
'
hearts pump faster. There had been
Frisbees
and footballs in the air, and the happy shouts of children, and big white birds, and lazy mashed
-
potato clouds. Best of all, there had been no suffering in that place, no pain except for the sting of sunburned skin.

Better days. He found it hard to believe now that there had ever
be
en
better days. It would be much easier for him to accept that they had only been dreams, that they had only come to pass in the murky shoals of his mind. It was all so distant now, so unreal; the good parts of his life seemed elusive and illusory, far less tangible than the many bad parts.

The bad parts;
he had
no trouble believing that
they
had been real, that they had been much more than dreams or mirages. The bad parts were dominant, overshadowing the good parts like redwoods overshadowing blades of grass. The bad parts were the cause of his current condition, the fuel of his hatred, the propulsive force which had driven him to this place.

Nothing but bad parts now; in reality, he was composed of nothing but bad parts. All the good parts had been contaminated, turned to cancers. Even good memories had gone bad, for they only spurred regret, violent regret which had become the most powerful force in his life.

With a grunt, he pushed himself from the state park sign. As always, memories only served to remind him of catastrophe and sorrow, misfortune and mutilation and madness. Memories reminded him of why
he'd
come here, to this part of the world, this part of Pennsylvania.

He thought again of how much
he had
to do, and he grew anxious to set his plans in motion. Burning with the full rush of the old fever, he hiked away from the beach area.

Following a paved path, he passed between two squat brick buildings
-
the concession stand and the wash
-
house, both closed for the season, like the rest of the park. Beyond the buildings, the path led him down a gradual slope, upon which playground equipment was scattered. Finally, he reached an access road, an oblong loop which he knew would deposit him on the main park road.

Turning left, he walked for what seemed like
forever
under a canopy of spindly, leafless trees. When he finally came to the main entrance of the park, he paused for a moment, staring at the dashed golden line before him, the line in the middle of the road.

Glowing faintly in the moonlight on that dark pavement, the line was like a magical arrow in the night. All that
he had
to do was follow it, and it would take him right to where he wanted to go, to the people whom he
needed to see.

It was a line to destiny, a connection to divinity. If he turned left along that line, he could get to where he needed to go. If he turned right, he could get there more quickly.

He turned right.

He
wasn
'
t
sure how long
he'd
been hiking along that road before he heard the distant whir of approaching tires. Turning, he spotted headlights flying toward him, swooping through the shadows like brilliant, unblinking eyes. Spinning to face the oncoming vehicle, he swung out his right arm an
d raised his thumb in the air.

Walking backward on the gravelly berm, he waved his thumb and watched the headlights flow toward him. They swept closer, bathing him in brightness, picking him out like a singer in a spotlight.

Then, they flashed past him. He felt a breeze in their wake, glimpsed the battered white station wagon on which they were mounted. A flare and a wind and a whisper, and then they were gone, leaving him cursing on the berm.

Resigning himself to a very long walk, he continued up the road, following the golden line. He resolved that he would make the most of his time in transit, spend the hours reviewing his plans.

After a few minutes, though, he again saw headlights. they raced at him from the direction in which he was headed...and then the same white station wagon barreled past on the other side of the road. Barely slowing, the car caromed off the pavement, rattled several yards over berm and bumpy earth, finally jerked hard to the left and shot across the road in a U
-
turn.

The wagon jolted to a halt beside him, and the driver flung open the passenger
-
side door. Bowing to peer inside, the hitchhiker saw a stocky, grinning guy in a red flannel shirt and blue jeans.

"
Hey, buddy
!
"
laughed the driver, poking the neck of a beer bottle at him.
"
Betcha
'
thought you was out a ride, huh?
"

"
Sure did,
"
the hitchhiker said coolly, barely cracking a smile.

"
Gotcha
'
!
"
hooted the driver, thumping the steering wheel with his fist.
"
I sure as hell put one over on ya
'
, didn
'
t I?
"

"
That
'
s right,
"
nodded the hitchhiker, noting that the guy
was
spectacularly drunk.

"
Well, hey
!
"
shouted the driver.
"
No hard feelin
'
s, right?
I came
back
for ya
'
, didn
'
t
I?
"

"
No harm done,
"
shrugged the hitchhiker.

"
I do that all the damn time
!
"
the drunk crowed proudly, swigging from his bottle of beer.
"
Sometimes I come back, and other times I just keep goin
'
! People nev
er know
what
the hell I
'
m
gonna
''
do!
"

"
Same here,
"
smirked the hitchhiker.

Laughing, the driver shook his head vigorously, like a dog shaking water from its fur.
"
Well, jump on in, pal
!
"
he bubbled, scratching his scalp, mussing his greasy black hair.
"
Room for one more!
"

"
Where you headed
?
"
asked the hitchhiker.

"
Where you wanna
'
go
?
"
grinned the driver.

"
Confluence,
"
the hitchhiker told him.
"
I
'
m on my way to Confluence.
"

*****

Chapter
4

"
Feeling better
?
"
said Darlene
.

"
Yeah,
"
nodded Dave, returning her smile, again lifting the mug of hot coffee to his lips.
"
Much better.
"
Seated at the table in Ernie
'
s kitchen, dressed in dry clothes which
he'd
borrowed from Ernie, he indeed felt better. Though the T
-
shirt was awfully baggy, and
he had
to cinch the wide
-
waisted blue jeans with a belt drawn as tight as it could go,
Dave was happy to be wearing those clothes; his own clothes had been soaked in the pool and hastily deposited in Ernie
'
s dryer.

"
More coffee
?
"
offered Darlene, bobbing her head toward the full pot in the coffee maker.

"
No thanks,
"
Dave said appreciatively.
"
I think this third cup about did the trick. If I drink any more, I
'
ll be bouncing off the walls all night.
"

"
You won
'
t be the only one,
"
Darlene said sardonically, glancing into the hallway which led to the basement door.
"
It sounds like they
'
re getting pretty wild down there.
"

"
They
'
ve
been
pretty wild,
"
chuckled Dave, tuning in to the chaotic ruckus which rippled beneath them, the clamor of laughter and shouts and loud music which was barely diminished as it filtered through the floor.

"
Boy,
"
said Darlene, shaking her head.
"
Billy and those guys were sure wound
-
up.
"

"
They
'
re always like that,
"
grinned Dave.

"
I still can
'
t believe they just tossed you in the pool
like that. I mean, a practical joke
'
s one thing, but that was going a little too far.
"

"
Well,
"
sighed Dave,
"
I
'
ve got to admit, I wasn
'
t crazy about it...but that
'
s the way it goes. When you come to one of these guys
'
parties, you have to be ready for anything. Just be
grateful they didn
'
t throw
you
in, too.
"

"
I
am
,
"
she
said
emphatically.

"
Y
'
know, you
do
look
cute
when you
'
re wet, though,
"
teased Dave.

"
Don
'
t even
think
about it,
"
she warned, her eyes widening.
"
If you try to pitch me in that pool, I
'
ll never
speak
to you again!
"

"
Aw, I wouldn
'
t do that,
"
he drawled.
"
You look even cuter when you
'
re
not
wet.
"

"
Well,
that
'
s
good.
"
Darlene smiled coyly, meeting his gaze.
"
You don
'
t look so bad yourself.
"

"
Thanks,
"
grinned Dave, watching her for a moment. She really was cute, and he enjoyed just looking at her like that sometimes. She was petite, but not too thin, and stood about five feet tall; delicate and birdlike, she moved with the quick, alert flickers of a sparrow. Her black hair was cut short, brushed up on the back and sides and swirled loosely into a slight tuft on top like a feathery crest. Dave especially loved her eyes, those wide, brown eyes which he found to be her most arresting feature; lively and glittering, full of intelligence and emotion, they stood out brilliantly on her small, oval face.

He'd
been dating her for about three months now, and was more enamored with her than ever. She was funny and smart and thoughtful, concerned with his well
-
being, eager to spend time with him. Though she was a bit shy, and had taken a while to open up to him at first, she was now very close to him, and they shared an undeniably strong attraction. They both attended the same college, and liked to do the same things, and
he'd
found himself thinking of her more and more often as the weeks passed.

He'd
met her through a friend of hers whom Billy had dated for a brief time, and he was grateful that s
he'd
crossed his path. Full of worry about school and the future, he was happy to have one stable, pleasant element amid the shifting puzzle pieces of his life. If not for her, he might have been totally consumed by his fretful tendencies, launched into a constant and feverish state of distress.

Darlene was the right girl at the right time, and he thought that he might even be in love with her. He
hadn
'
t
told her that yet, though he figured that she already knew.

Reaching over, he took her hand and held it tightly, entwining his fingers with hers. She smiled and blushed, then placed her free hand atop the clasp.

At that moment, Ernie entered the kitchen, breaking the electric, silent concert which had blossomed at the table.
"
Hey, you kids,
"
he said laughingly, a huge mug of beer in his paw.
"
I can
'
t lea
ve you two alone for a minute,
can I?
"

"
Sure you can,
"
said
Dave.
"
We won
'
t mind.
"

"
Uh
-
uh
-
uh,
"
chided the tall, stocky guy, flicking one finger back and forth in the air.
"
No can do, David. I
'
m the chaperone here, so I feel it
'
s my duty to keep an eye
out for monkey business.
"

"
You want monkey business, the
n you oughtta
'
go follow
Billy
around for a while. He
'
s the one you should be watching, not me.
"

"
Oh, I
'
m watching Billy, all right,
"
Ernie said in his deep, breathy voice.
"
You
'
re
not as innocent as you make out to be, though.
"

"
What
?
"
Dave
said
with mock surprise.
"
Me? I
'
m pure as the new
-
driven snow, Ernie!
"

"
New
-
driven
mud
is more like it,
"
chortled Ernie.

"
Boy,
"
said Dave, wagging his head, feigning despair.
"
I
'
m really hurt that you think that of me, Ernie. I thought you were my friend.
"

"
You did
?
"
laughed Ernie.
"
Well whatever gave you
that
idea?
"

"
Can you believe this guy
?
"
Dave aske
d Darlene, hitching a thumb at
Ernie.
"
All this time, I thought he liked me.
"

"
Well,
I
like you,
"
she smiled, patting his hand.

"
I
'
m glad
somebody
appreciates me,
"
grinned Dave.

"
She just doesn
'
t
know
you like I do,
"
quipped Ernie, adjusting his silver
-
framed glasses by shifting one lens with a thumb and index finger.

"
Oh, I think I know him pretty well,
"
Darlene said confidently.

"
Wait till he gets a few beers in him,
"
warned Ernie.
"
He
'
s like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Once he drinks the magic potion, he turns into a monster.
"

"
I think you
'
re confusing me with yourself,
"
laughed Dave.

"
Just watch this guy tonight, Darlene. Don
'
t let him have more than one beer, okay? He can
'
t hold his alcohol.
"

"
I
'
m sure he
'
ll be fine,
"
smiled Darlene, squeezing Dave
'
s hand.
"
He can drink as much as he wants since he isn
'
t doing any driving.
"

"
So you
'
re the chauffeur tonight, huh
?
"
Ernie said wryly.
"
Well, be prepared: he
'
s a lousy tipper.
"

"
Hey, I
'
m a student
!
"
laughed Dave.
"
I don
'
t
have
to tip! I
'
m always broke!
"

"
How did you get mixed up with this guy, Darlene
?
"
asked Ernie, grimacing with mock confusion.
"
He
'
s such a tightwad!
"

"
Oh, I just found him wandering around,
"
she said lightly.
"
He was a stray, and he was just so cute that I had to pick him up.
"

"
That
'
s right,
"
piped Dave.
"
As long as she gives me a slipper and a bowl of dog chow every day, I
'
m happy.
"

"
You better keep him on a short leash,
"
kidded Ernie.
"
And whatever you do, if he starts to lift his leg, get the heck out of the way!
"

For a moment, they all laughed, adding their own voices to the cacophony coursing from the basement below. Ernie seemed particularly pleased, proud of the reaction which his joke had spurred. Typically a very serious and studious person, he loved to entertain at his parties, reveled in the role of host and comedian. At parties, Ernie Dumbrowski transformed, underwent a startling change, a genuine metamorphosis. Usually, he exhibited a commanding, grim demeanor, a no
-
nonsense attitude; he often seemed solemn and intense, even cold and uncommunicative. At parties, though, he lit up, grinning and goofing and raising hell with the gang, releasing all the pressure from within himself like steam from a whistle. His straight black hair, usually parted severely to one side, was allowed to drift askew, drop strands across his forehead, shoot cowlicks from the peak. He visibly slouched, let his thick frame relax from its standard, rigid posture. His voice boomed, leaped from its everyday hush to an outstanding, royal roar. At parties, Ernie became a fresh and vigorous presence, retaining his good nature and brilliance but discarding his tense restraint.