Between the Roots (4 page)

At that moment a horn sounded; then a brake squealed. The rookie detectives perked up. A brief pause of silence followed, broken by the annoying sound of metal scraping cement. Three parking places up the street, a car came to a cringing stop against the curb, grating its front bumper on the sidewalk edge.

"Wow, nice landing!" John called out.

The boys walked up the street to check out the driver. A familiar-looking girl popped out of the passenger's side and slammed her door. She hurried to the front of the car and bent down to assess the damage.

"It's okay. You just have to ease it in a little more slowly next time," she called.

The old man closed his door and peered sheepishly over the car hood at her. It was Walt! Sammy nudged John. "That's him!" Walt and the girl approached. The girl made Sammy nervous, yet he stepped up boldly. "Hello, sir."

Walt looked as surprised and pleased as Sammy was. He said, "Well, if it isn't the hat boy." Noticing John, he continued, "This is AnLillie."

Sammy felt awkward being introduced to the girl. His mother was right; she was cute, but he thought his mom was wrong about her age. She acted so poised and sure of herself. He felt a rush of nervous excitement when he looked into her blue eyes.

"Hello." AnLillie extended her hand, eyeing him carefully.

Sammy didn't respond; John nudged him. Awkwardly, he shook her hand. She smiled. Then she held out her hand to John. He quickly rubbed his sticky palm over his jeans before taking it.

John broke the silence. "I'm John and this is Sammy."

"Sammy, you must live nearby. I think I've seen you, here at the store," AnLillie said.

This pleased Sammy. Then to Walt he said, "Do you want us to help you push your car off the curb?" He knew he had brushed her off, but he was nervous.

AnLillie said to Walt, "I'll wait for you in the store."

She walked past the boys. Sammy's head pivoted to watch her climb the steps and disappear. His attention shifted back to Walt, who stood sporting a ridiculous wrinkled grin. Sammy felt even more embarrassed.

"You do remember me, Walt, don't you?" Sammy said.

"You broke your promise, didn't you, Sammy?" Walt watched John as he spoke.

"I'm sorry, I had to tell someone. John won't tell. Believe me,
he won't tell.
"

The old man said, "I hoped you'd be here, but I was afraid you would talk. This is the first time since Saturday that AnLillie wanted to go for a ride."

What did AnLillie have to do with Walt returning to town?
Sammy wondered.

"I don't have time to talk right now." Walt tapped his cane nervously on the sidewalk.

"Can we meet tomorrow, Mr. Walt?"

"Yes. Come to the wall after school. I'll meet you outside the gate."

Both boys agreed. Relieved and lighthearted, Sammy turned to go, jingling the change in his pocket.

"Remember, not another word to anyone," Walt warned as he shuffled toward the store. "No sense starting another silly rumor."

P
LANNING AHEAD WAS NOT
a priority for Sammy, and likely John had never heard the term; otherwise they would have insisted Walt drive to meet them. Neither one of them realized how difficult the trip to the walled forest would be. Transportation hadn't occurred to anyone. John was without a bike since he parked it in front of the garage door behind his dad's pickup. He still maintained that his dad should have noticed it once the garage door went up. Even without its kickstand, it had rested a couple feet above the ground. Now it could fit under a small car.

This day moved surprisingly fast. Sammy had ridden his bike to school, and after the bell, they stood alongside their shared vehicle and puzzled over how one bike, two backpacks, and two riders would manage the three-mile distance to meet Walt. To make matters more challenging, there was no rear fender, leaving only the seat and the handlebars for passengers. Sammy reasoned, since it was his bike, he would sit on the seat and do the pedaling. John would balance his ample rear on the bars, spread-eagling his legs away from the front tire.

Three wobbly blocks into their ride, it was obvious they would have to do something differently. All Sammy could see was the back of John's pack and the ground on either side of the pedals. He eased the bike to a stop, causing John to veer sharply to the side and topple off.

"We'll never make it at this rate," Sammy complained. "It's mostly these darn backpacks and that big rear end of yours. I can't see around it."

"We gotta leave them somewhere and pick them up on the way back," John suggested.

"The backpacks?" Sammy asked with a smirk on his face.

"No, my butt, you idiot child." John rapped him on the head with his fist. He started wiggling around, tugging to rearrange his pants, relieving himself of the indentation made from the handlebar.

In the short distance from school, they'd passed several homes and a market. Both boys stood at the street's edge, surveying possible drop sites. The only trees or bushes for hiding places were behind private fences. They settled on the market near the intersection. A long shelf near its front door held buckets of purple kale, ready for fall planting. There was just enough room under the shelf to squeeze both backpacks. Pausing only to see if they were being watched, the boys slipped their burdens from their backs and hid them under the kale.

Again they took their positions, Sammy pedaling, John balancing on the bar, directing the driver. They zigzagged down School Avenue, then made a daring left turn onto Lone Spring Road. A horn blast from an oncoming car ignited Sammy's temper. "Geez, John, why didn't you warn me there was a car coming our way?"

"Ah, I knew he could see us."

Occasionally the road ahead came into Sammy's view when John tilted, leaving Sammy to counter-tilt. Progress was being made. They'd traveled almost a mile when disaster struck. All the bouncing made John fart right into Sammy's face.

"Holy cats, what died!" Sammy gagged, closed his eyes, and grabbed his nose. The bike and riders wavered, then landed in the soft shoulder alongside the road.

"Couldn't help it, honest." John and Sammy laughed while John hobbled on his freshly bruised leg. They staggered around the bike pushing at each other. Each roll of laughter led to another explosive outburst.

"Let's put you in the driver's seat and make use of the jet propulsion."

Getting to ride high on the handlebars and letting John do all the work for a change was worth the temporary insult. They were making better time. John's pedaling was his strong suit. Sammy's light frame floated over each small bump.

They continued along the lonely stretch of road in silence for several minutes. Only two cars had passed them since they had left School Avenue. "Hey, Sammy, what did you tell your mom you'd be doing after school?" John shouted above the crunching of the wheels on gravel.

"She's at another meeting; so I told Mrs. West I'd be with you for a while."

"Your mom sure has lots of meetings."

"Guess so. Things are really heating up with this new developer."

Tree shadows covered the road, letting in only slices of sunshine and reminding Sammy that their ride was nearly over. He turned his head sideways and shouted, "So, what did you tell your folks?"

"I said I was going to be with you, but I promised I'd be home by five."

"We'll have to hurry."

They reached the familiar, mossy stone wall. The boys continued traveling several minutes along it. To Sammy the wall seemed longer. Ahead of them a low, dark form lay by the roadside.

"Hold up, John!" Sammy yelled.

It was a wounded animal. The small dog slowly raised its head to show pleading eyes. Its body jerked. Too weakened to stand, the dog allowed the boys to examine her. The frightened eyes stared into their faces.

"She's a goner. Look how old and frail she is already." John patted her head tenderly.

"Help me lift her. Maybe we can put her near the wall."

Sammy lifted her head and shoulders as John eased his arms under the dog's back. She was remarkably light.

Someone was shuffling out from the wall further down the road. The unusual gait belonged to Walt.

"You need help?"

Seeing Walt here once again jolted Sammy back to their first encounter. He felt his pulse quicken as he hurried to disguise his anxiety. Sammy blurted, "She looks bad."

Sammy hoped Walt would take any sign of his fear as concern for the dog.

"Let's bring her to the Colony. Someone can help." They formed a strange parade: an old man thrusting a cane to speed him along, a slim boy pushing a bike, a chunky lad burdened with an injured dog.

"She's pretty wasted, probably won't make it. Poor old thing," Sammy said.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Walt snapped at Sammy with surprising irritation. "Wait at the gate; I'll be back soon." Then, as if having an afterthought, he turned and asked, "Does anyone know where you guys are?"

Sammy replied, "Not really," then immediately regretted his response.

Sammy rested the bike against the wall, while John sat against it holding the dog. As they waited, Sammy wondered aloud: "Have we made a mistake? Should we have told someone where we were going?"

Their wait was brief. Walt appeared at the gate pulling a flat wooden wagon. The boys lifted the frightened animal onto its bed.

"She'll be all right. We've got a good vet here," Walt said.

Try as he might, Sammy could not see this old man as threatening, yet what they had seen together in the forest had been so shocking.

"She seems like she'll die of old age before she'll die of her injuries," Sammy said.

Turning toward Sammy, Walt tilted his head and gave him an odd, sly smirk.

"Just because she looks old to you, doesn't mean she feels old to her."

Where is that coming from?
Sammy thought.
I'd better keep quiet about old age.

"So, I'm glad you fellows could make it. How come only one bike?"

"I sorta had an accident with mine," John said.

They stood looking at one another for a moment before Sammy spoke. "Walt, you said we could talk." His eyes drifted to the dog and he knew that this visit would have to be cut short. "That time in the woods last week has been bothering me." Sammy lowered his head. "It's really bothering me."

Walt interrupted. "I'm sorry. It's like I told you in the forest. It's really not what you might have thought. It was . . . "

This time Sammy interrupted. "Well, I thought I saw a dead body. And then I saw it move."

The old man motioned for Sammy to lower his voice. "You were watching a rehearsal for a show. That's all it was, just a practice."

"You mean it was a play practice?"

"That's what I mean," Walt said. "Every fall we have a big celebration in honor of . . . the end of summer, the beginning of the sleeping months." The dog whimpered.

"Well it sure wasn't the sleeping time for poor old Sammy," quipped John. "To think I did all that pedaling to find out you were watching a play rehearsal."

"But it was so real!" Sammy insisted.

"That's good. I'd tell them that, only I wasn't supposed to be watching either. It's always a big surprise . . . it's like a competition to see which skit is the most unique. Those actors would think I was spying on them for the other performers." As Walt explained, his voice and face became more animated.

"So when's the big production?" John asked.

Again the old man became agitated. "Soon, but it's not open to the public, just the Colony." He looked determinedly into Sammy's eyes. Changing the subject, Walt said, "You fellows must be in the same grade."

"Same room most of the time," Sammy replied knowing that Walt was covering something up with his sudden new interest in school.

"Sammy and I have been friends since first grade."

"So both of you must have lived all your lives around here?" The question was directed more toward Sammy. It felt like probing, as if the old man were verifying something he already knew.
Hadn't AnLillie asked a similar question?

"I moved here awhile before I started school." The dog yipped as the wagon bumped over rocks thrown from the road. They both looked at the injured animal. Questions would have to wait. Sammy thought Walt was glad of that. Still, he pushed for more information. "John and I are curious about this place."

"Well, the Colony's a really closely knit community. We just look out for one another." He turned the wagon toward the open gate and readied it for its downhill trip to the unseen forest buildings.

"So, it's like an old-folks home?" John added.

"You could call it that, if you want."

Walt seemed nervous, as if he'd told them more than he should have. He hesitated and asked, "You will come back, right? I've got to get this animal some help." Sammy recognized a familiar yearning in his voice; he seemed lonely.

"Yeah, sure," John was quick to reply, his answer screaming with insincerity.

"I mean it. We can meet out here again." Walt pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. On it was a phone number. "Call me, okay? People get the wrong idea about the Colony." He pressed the paper into Sammy's hand. "Call."

"Okay, I will."

"I almost forgot. AnLillie said hi."

"Tell her hi back." Sammy knew John would tease him, but it would have been impolite to ignore the greeting.

A strange seed of friendship had been planted. Sammy knew he would visit again, partly to keep his word, but mainly out of curiosity. He found the old man intriguing, with only a hint of questionable integrity. Getting to know Walt would be an adventure, and besides, Walt knew AnLillie.

The sun was flattened against the distant ridge. Making their five o'clock commitment would be a challenge.

The boys took their positions on the bike: John on the pedals, Sammy on the bar. As John popped his foot to the pedal, he yelled over his shoulder, "Hope you enjoy the play, Walt!" Then into Sammy's ear he added, "I don't believe a word of it. The old fart is keeping a secret."