Broken Things (4 page)

He looked up at the surrounding mountains. He bet that he
could climb up one fairly easily. They weren’t
that
steep. How far could
he see from on top? He intended to find out. His parents told him that there’d
be trails to walk too, and it had looked like there was one near the campsite,
but probably only to other spots along the river. Farther upstream he could see
where it turned around a bend, and what looked like possibly a beaver dam. Josh
added that to his mental list of things to at least check out.

He also hadn’t seen any wildlife either. There were supposed
to be a lot of deer up here, and even bears and wolves. Not that he wanted to
get too close to one of those, but it would be something to talk about when he
got back.

How would it be to not go back at all?

8

David and Carol Norton watched Josh dart off, Carol opening
her mouth and raising a hand but just slightly as if to call him back, her
brows furrowed with concern, but her husband placed a hand on her arm and shook
his head slightly.

“He’ll be fine,” he said, “Help me unload.”

“Do you think we brought him enough?”

“Yes, he’s good. We brought more than he’ll ever need. ” He
opened the back hatch of the SUV to reveal bags and boxes packed in tight,
filling every inch of available space with as many comforts of home as
possible. They unpacked methodically, setting everything up as they went along,
placing everything around the campsite as though permanently staking their part
of the wilderness. David set up the tent, only occasionally calling his wife
over for help. Carol kept busy with the food, setting the coolers in the shade
and rummaging through them, making sure they hadn’t forgot anything. They were
packed with sandwich meat, bread, chips, and a host of processed cakes and
donuts that the boy liked.

“I wish we hadn’t packed so much junk food,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter,” David said, “Let him enjoy his last few
days.”

Carol covered her mouth, fighting down the tears. She turned
away from her husband, staring at the trees, staring at nothing, until she got
herself under control.

“Carol, don’t. We talked about this. You know it’s for the
best.”

“What if he suffers?”

“He won’t, he’s shutting down. He will only last a few more
days.” As these words brought Carol dangerously close to tears, David quickly
added, “We’re doing this for him. It’s what he wants.”

Carol glanced toward the river. She couldn’t see Josh, but
could pick out the sounds of splashing in the creek. “You’re sure about this?”

“Absolutely. We’re making his last few days fun. We don’t
have the money to fix him, and we don’t want him broken for parts. This way he
gets to spend his final days having a good time.”

“Won’t he be scared?”

“Josh? No, he doesn’t get scared.”

They filled the tent with bags of clothing and toys, and set
up a single sleeping bag. The tent could easily sleep a family of three, but
the pile of bags would make it impossible to do so. Carol entered the tent,
gently going down on her knees, looking over everything.

“It doesn’t look right,” she said, “I don’t think we brought
enough.”

David poked his head in. “It’s fine,” he assured her, “He’s
got everything he needs. He’s got plenty of food, water, toys, clothes. He’s
going to have a great time.”

“I don’t know,” she said, and then stopped, the words
catching in her throat.

  “Stop,” he said, “Are you having second thoughts?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. With resolve she
opened them and shook her head. “No.”

“Do you want to say goodbye?”

“No. I don’t think I can.”

He nodded, glancing at the river. “I agree. Come on, we’d
better go.”

He extended his hand, and she let him help her from the
tent. The day seemed to heat up faster now as the afternoon went by. David
returned to the car but didn’t get in, instead watching as his wife walked over
to the table and pulled out a sandwich and soda, then arranged chips in a neat
stack off to the side. She then wrapped it securely with plastic wrap, shooing
the flies away.

She stood there for a minute surveying the camp, wiping the
crumbs from her hands on her jeans. “Well,” she said, “I guess that’s it.”

“That’s it,” he repeated, “Everything’s set.”

“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”

“He’s thrilled,” he replied, “It’s been all he’s talked
about since his accident. We’ve prepared him as best we can. He’s going to be
okay. If we leave now we can be home in time for supper. I’ll take you out, if
you want.”

She nodded and forced a smile. “I’d like that.”

9

Over by the river Josh blissfully threw rocks into the
water. He’d managed a few skips but nothing spectacular. He’d seen his father
skip a stone half way across a park lake once, each skip becoming smaller and
smaller until too rapid to count, the stone seeming to glide along the
surface. 

On the other side of the water the trees and brush grew
thick, and he expected that it was probably full of snakes. He would have to
cross later to explore and find out. He hadn’t seen many snakes, once in a zoo,
and another time one in the garden behind his home. That one had been
little. 

He’d been away from his parents for a while now. It felt a
little peculiar to play by the river for so long without his mother checking on
him every five minutes. Being twelve, he was big enough to do just about
anything he wanted, but she still saw him as a little kid. But he’d never been
little, always twelve. He’d been built to be this age, and that could never
change. That didn’t seem to matter to her though. If she wasn’t checking on him
then maybe he needed to check on her. It would do her good to know that he was
okay.

Josh hopped up from the bank of the river and made his way
back to the camp. Miraculously everything looked complete as though it had sprung
whole from the ground. When they’d arrived there had only been nature, and now
it looked as though a piece of civilization had moved in. Food waited for him
on the table, even though the sandwich still had the crust on it. He’d make his
mother cut it off before he’d eat it, but she’d gotten him the right chips at
least.

His parents sat in the car, window rolled down. His mother
looked upset, shaking her head and crying. He could hear her but not what she
said. His father consoled her, his voice sounding a bit impatient. She probably
wanted to go home. Dad would settle it though. They were all set up. No way
would they leave.

 For a moment he let himself get distracted, ripping off
the plastic wrap and throwing it in the general direction of the fire pit. He
scarfed the chips and looked around for more. He found the rest tucked away in
a grocery bag. He pulled out a handful and shoved them into his mouth. The
campsite looked great and even had a fire pit.
Maybe they’ll let me roast
marshmallows before dinner
, he thought. That wasn’t very likely though.
Parents always expected you to eat what they wanted you to first, getting you
too full to eat the good stuff. Maybe they’d at least let him start the fire.
His father had a special technique for fires. He used a ton of newspaper and
lighter fluid. When the match hit it, it would create a small fireball.

He heard the car engine start and he looked at them
curiously. Did mom want to go home that bad, or had they forgotten something
important? He watched the car pull out and it felt like warning bells going off
in his head.

“Dad! Mom! Wait!” He ran after them as they pulled onto the
dirt road. He saw his dad’s eyes in the side view mirror, but he didn’t stop.
Were they actually speeding up?

He ran harder and faster than he ever had in his life,
ignoring the cloud of dust they threw up behind them. He saw his mother’s hand
on his father’s shoulder.
Please stop, please if there is a God make them
stop.

Whether in answer to his quick prayer or his mom, his dad
stopped the car in the middle of the road. He didn’t stop running until he
reached the driver’s window. His father turned to face him, expression solemn.
That meant his father was either in a fight with his mom or Josh had done
something wrong.

“Where… where are you guys going?” he asked breathlessly. He
leaned on the window, noticing his mother’s red, swollen eyes.

“Let go of the window, Josh,” his father ordered in a quiet,
yet firm voice.

Josh ignored him. “Is everything okay, mom? Why are you…”

“She’s fine,” his dad interrupted, “I need you to go back to
camp. Now. You need to stay there.”

“When are you coming back?”

“Josh, honey,” his mother said, “You have to do what your
father says. Please just go back. Be a good boy and don’t follow us.”

“Why are you leaving? Take me with you!”

“We can’t honey, you’ll like it here…”

“Carol, please,” his dad said. He looked straight ahead, not
at his wife or at Josh. “You just can’t and that’s final. You’ll be fine.
You’ve got everything you need. Now please, go back.”

“Is it because I’m broken? I’ll find a way to fix myself, I
promise! Please don’t leave me, don’t go! I won’t cause any trouble, you won’t
have to spend any more money on me, please Daddy, I’ll be good! I’ll…”

“Drive, Dave,” his mother said, “Go, I can’t handle this.”

Josh reached through the window and grabbed his dad’s arm as
he gave the SUV gas. He hung from the window as they started down the road,
forcing him to stop again. “Let go of me, Josh,” he ordered.

“Don’t leave me, let me go with you! Daddy, please!”

“Stop calling me that!”

His father grabbed his wrist and roughly pried Josh’s hand
away. He stomped the gas, his peeling tires throwing a cloud of choking dirt
into the air. Josh fell to his knees in disbelief, tears coming unbidden.

“I don’t understand,” he said to no one.

10

Several miles away something stirred. It awakened upon a
hard bed of dirt and rocks, surrounded by bat guano and worms. Only a thin beam
of sunlight disturbed its darkness. Long ago the cave had a wider opening, and
had been used by Native Americans. The walls were painted with their cave art
of a time long forgotten. Hundreds of years ago a landslide had all but
obscured the opening, leaving it as a shelter only for the local wildlife…. and
eventually something else.

It stretched its arms and legs, disturbing a decade worth of
dust and cobwebs. They were stiff and difficult to move, atrophied muscles
tearing painfully. Things moved beneath its skin.
Bugs
, it realized.
They’d eaten holes all through it, consuming whatever they could. Still it
lived. It didn’t hate the bugs. They did what they were supposed to do. It
understood purpose.

Why was it still alive? How was it possible? More
importantly, what had awakened it? It felt something it hadn’t felt in a long
time. It sniffed the air but the cave only reeked of dust and that of its own
decay. It wasn’t a smell then. 

It had found the cave by chance, stumbling on it only by
providence. Fragments of memory slowly came back, creeping into its mind like
the bugs throughout its body. There had been blood, it had killed. It killed
and it had been good at it. It had only stopped when there were no more
children. But others knew about it by then, forcing it to run to the most
remote place it could find. It had crawled in this hole to die.  
  

It dragged its weakened form toward the light, its arms
barely able to support it. The light burned its eyes and it shied away. Its skin
felt like brittle paper. It would have to wait until the darkness came.

It remembered what this feeling was. It wasn’t a scent at
all.
Fear
! Child-like innocent fear that called to it, gave it a sense
of urgency, and the urgency gave it strength.

If one were back, could there be more?

Part 2

1

The mountains loomed over him and the trees pressed in from
all directions. Josh didn’t move but sat in the middle of the road and waited.
It didn’t feel real. His parents wouldn’t leave him. That just wasn’t something
that parents did. They had to come back.

But they didn’t.

 The sun rose higher and his stomach growled. He
dragged his feet back to the camp. He followed the tire tracks in the dust,
following them the wrong way. Going back felt pointless, but it would be better
to wait there than in the middle of the road.

Josh sat down at the picnic table, surrounded by many of the
comforts of home. When they were packing, everything felt so important, as
though he couldn’t live without it, and he’d pushed to bring much more than
what his parents had wanted him to. His feelings warred with him. If he were to
chase after his parents, he didn’t want to leave everything here. But on the
other hand, it all felt empty. If he gave all this up and went after them, he
could have his home back.

But they hadn’t said that they weren’t coming back either,
had they? It didn’t make much sense, but maybe he’d not understood them. That
had to be it! They were testing him! Or maybe they didn’t want to camp, but
didn’t want him to be disappointed. Parents were horrible at explaining things.
They were always expecting you to know exactly what they meant as though you
were a mind reader, and when you asked them to repeat themselves or explain
something they got mad, like you were stupid for not knowing what they knew.
 

That was it, they’d be back.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffed.
Just
keep busy
, he told himself,
make time pass.
They’ll be back any
time.
He ate his sandwich, picking off the crust and dropping it into the
dust to feed the ants. He watched them fight over the crumbs. Every now and
then he reached down and flicked it away. The ants were so much bigger here,
and redder too. He’d heard that the red ants bit.
Those are fire ants,
he thought. At home they only had little black ones. His dad had shown him how
to burn them with a magnifying glass once. He should’ve packed that too.