Sleeping Dogs

The retired nurse was drinking a cup of tea in her kitchen. I could see her through the window.
I knocked on her back door. When I had to stop by her house, it was always the back door.
"Lou," she said when she opened it. "I knew it would be you. Would it kill you to stop by in the daytime? Come on in. It's freezing out there."
I stepped into the kitchen. "Hi, Mrs. Lehrig. I just had a quick question. If I've been limping for two days and might be bleeding internally, would that be considered an issue?"
"My god. What happened?"
"A yeti hit me in the back with a board. Actually, it may not have been a yeti. It may have been the insane guy from down the street."
She sighed. "Sit down. Let me take a look. You really should go to the hospital."
"No way. I hate hospitals. And Kline's out of town for Christmas, so you're my best shot here."
She listened to my heart with a stethoscope. "I knew you when you were five years old, Lou. Watched you grow up. And now that I'm retired, you're always showing up on my porch with more injuries than ever. Why are you doing this to yourself?"
"I'm doing some good stuff, Mrs. Lehrig. I'm discovering things, helping people."
"I'm worried about you. I don't want to see you get yourself hurt."
"I'm fine. Just a little banged up."
She began to check my back for broken ribs or something. "What could have happened to you, Lou? For the last year, you've been reckless. What happened to make you think a life of nightly injury is okay?"
"I'm learning. I'm doing good things. And I'm getting better every night---Becoming what I want to be."
"And what about after high school? What about college?"
"If I make it to graduation, I'll think of something."
She shook her head. "You seem okay, but bruised. Rest for a few days."
"Pssh. I'm going exploring. We're going to my grandfather's for Christmas."
"Well, whatever it is you're doing, take Christmas off."
I stood up. "Thanks, Mrs. Lehrig. I'll be allright."

The farmhouse had been in my family for over a hundred years. Tonight, my family was in the farmhouse.
We had all gathered for Christmas Eve at my grandfather's place, an old farmhouse by the Schuylkill River in Montgomery County. There were sleeping bags in every room, and at least a dozen kids running around---My brothers and sister, my cousins.
The old farmhouse was known as Black Rock for old family reasons I'd never understood. It was a big old house on a hill, with a couple of barns and outbuildings, and a lot of forest land surrounding it. Great for adventures.
I stood by the river, looking out with binoculars. It was partially frozen over, but still running. I could see the bridge in the background.
"What're you doing?"
I turned. My cousin Megan was approaching over the meadow, followed by much younger cousins Robert and Joey.
"I'm looking for a water monster," I said. I put the binoculars back in my pack and got out my camera. "I saw something swimming around in here over the summer. Something big, kind of a big black shape. And cousin Donnie said he saw something sticking a long neck out of the water." I took several photos. "I'm gonna name him Monty."
"Dumb," said Megan, and turned and walked back to the house.
"I'm scared of water monsters," said Robert.
"Can we go back inside?" asked Joey.
I sighed. "Yeah, let's go back in."
Indoors, I shrugged off my coat and hung it in the front hallway. It was warmer in the house. In the living room, several cousins were sitting around the coffee table, paging through an old photo album of our family.
"Stay quiet," said my cousin Amy. "Grandmom is sleeping. She's not having one of her good days."
There was coffee on in the kitchen. I checked to make sure it was fresh---All of my grandparents had grown up during the Great Depression, and it would be just like my grandfather to re-use the same coffee grounds for over a week. Evidently Aunt Mary had made the coffee; it was pretty good. I got a cup and watched as cousin Laura paged through the album.
"Look, here we all are playing with Sparky," Laura said. "Grandpop's little beagle. I love that little guy."
"Look, there's that time we all went climbing up the ravine in the summer," said Megan.
"That was fun," I commented. "Remember we hung a flag at the top?"
She nodded. "But it was made of paper, so I don't think it's still there."
"Who's that?" asked my little cousin Michael.
"That's all of us, when we were kids," said Laura. "These are old photos. Look, here are some when you guys came to stay at our house in Boston when you were little. Look, you can see Lou and David dressed like Batman and Robin."
"Oh, god, put that away," I said. "I was like six."
"You two were running around all day in your costumes, looking for clues," said Laura. "Look, here's another. You haven't changed at all."
"I've changed a lot," I said.
"You're exactly the same as when you were six," said Laura. "You're still running around looking for adventure, pretending you're some sort of superhero."
"Things have changed a lot for me," I said. "I'm not the same as when I was a kid! I have a lot more stuff on my mind now, and I've been going through some stuff in the last year. So don't tell me I still act like a little kid."
"You're still out pretending to have adventures."
"Shut up."
"You shut up!"
"Screw you," I said. "I've changed a lot. I'm gonna go out to the barn and look for ghosts."
"There aren't any ghosts in the barn," said Laura.
"Shut up!"
I grabbed my pack and walked through the kitchen and out the back door. Dusty, the old gray cat, with asleep outside the door. My grandfather's farm had a lot of old barn cats that never seemed to change position much---If I wanted to find one specific one, I always knew about where to look.
I walked to the small barn. There was one huge one, and just outside the back porch, a smaller one. I aimed for the small one---It was beginning to snow pretty heavily, and I didn't want to trudge through it to the big barn.
The small barn had a dog pen attached, with a dog house and a hole in the side of the barn. This was for Sparky. My grandfather had owned the little beagle for as long as I could remember. he lived in the pen, and could walk through the hole into the barn in bad weather. There was a light on in the barn. I opened the door and walked in.
My cousin Wendy was crouched on the floor, holding Sparky in her arms. The little beagle was breathing heavily, gasping.
Wendy looked up at me.
"He's dying," she said.

I was stunned for a moment.
Then I took off my pack and knelt beside her.
"How did you find him?" I asked.
"I came out to see how he was doing," said Wendy. "When I get bored, I like to come and check on him. I know you do, too."
I nodded.
"He was in his dog box, all curled up in the corner," she said. "He was shivering. I got him out, and held him, and he's just been laying here. He won't drink any water."
"How long?"
Wendy looked at her watch. "About an hour."
I got out my first aid kit, a solid metal box that I carried in my backpack. I took out a stethoscope and listened to Sparky's heart. Kline was always stealing me all sorts of good stuff.
"He's breathing heavy, fast heartbeat," I said. "He doesn't sound good."
"He's dying, isn't he?" Wendy asked.
"I think so. I don't think there's anything we can do....I think all we can do is keep him company."
"Poor thing."
I sat on the chilly floor. "We've played with this little guy forever," I said. I ran my fingers over Sparky's little head. "Isn't that right, Sparky? We've known each other our whole lives. I don't remember a time without you."
And starting tomorrow, I will. I'll have to learn to remember a time without Sparky. I'd say a prayer....But I don't. Not ever, not anymore. Not since that night.
"I remember a time before Sparky," said Wendy. "I was little when Grandpop got him. I remember him coming home as a puppy. Do you remember Princess?"
"Grandpop's old collie," I said. "Yeah, I was about four when she died."
"She was a nice dog," said Wendy. "I wasn't sure if you'd remember."
"I remember a little. I remember when Dad told me she'd died. I cried, and then asked if Grandpop could get a new Princess."
"Doesn't work that way."
"No. It doesn't."
We sat in companionable silence for a while, alternately touching and holding Sparky, the snow falling outside.
"Are you okay?" Wendy asked me.
I made a face.
"Yeah."
"No, seriously," she said. "You're not like you used to be. You act like something's wrong all the time now. It's been, what, like a year maybe? You're acting different."
I nodded.
"I tried to kill myself."
"Oh my god. When?"
"About a year ago."
"Why?"
"I'll tell you," I said. "I mean, not right now, okay? But we'll talk. I'll tell you about it."
"Okay," she said.
Sparky made a soft noise. We both looked down at him.
"Sparky?" I petted him, running my hand down and over his back. "Hey, Sparky, little dog. We love you, little guy. We always have."
He took two more breaths, and then lay still.
Wendy cried. I closed my eyes.
"He's gone," she said.
I nodded.
"What do we do now?" she asked. "Should we....Tell somebody?"
"We'll go get my dad," I said. "But let's just sit here a while first."
Maybe there was a ghost here now.
It was midnight. It was Christmas day.

In the morning, we all gathered and opened presents under the tree, a tree grown on our own family farm. I opened up a brand new backpack, a deep purple and loaded with pockets and zippers.
Wendy caught me in the kitchen.
"Hey. You okay?"
"Hey, Wendy. Look, don't tell anyone what I told you last night. I don't want Mom and Dad knowing."
"Okay, I won't. But I want you to call me, allright? I want you to talk about this."
"It's long-distance. Dad sees I'm doing that, he'll kill me anyway."
"No he won't. Look, I don't want anything to happen to you, okay? You're my cousin. I'll be there for you, okay? You know that."
I nodded.
"I know."

Haunted Barn

I stood outside the high school, facing down four jocks.
I'd been walking outside, halfway between the school newspaper and play practice, when they'd shown up. They were coming back from the stadium after football or something. When they'd seen me alone, they'd decided to declare it Pick On Lou Day.
"Back off," I said warningly.
They surrounded me, one on each side. I was unarmed---I hadn't really thought to bring my whip to school. I turned, shifted into a fighting stance like I'd learned, and balled my fists. My gym bag with all my books in it was slung over one shoulder. I slid it down my arm, letting it dangle and wrapping the strap around my wrist.
One of them moved toward me. I swung the gym bag, and he jumped back. Another one, behind me, came closer, and I spun, swinging at him and driving him back, too.
They stopped and stared at me, the kid with the glasses that was holding them back.
"I don't believe this," one of them said.
"No more warning shots," I said. "Get lost."
One of them made a grab for me. I swung the gym bag, clipping him in the side of the head. He staggered back, clutching at his ear.
I didn't wait. I swung the bag again, catching one in the neck. I turned and kicked the first one. The other two moved back, out of range, and I stepped forward, swinging the bag with some heat.
"That's not fucking fair!" the one I'd hit in the face claimed.
"Like four on one was so nice?" I said. I took a step forward again, and he dodged way back.
All of them were in front of me now; I'd herded them into a cluster. They were looking more hesitant than they had. I came forward again and swung wildly, and they all ran, getting about twenty feet away.
"Get out of my sight," I said. "Don't make me tell everyone how I beat four of you."
They retreated, heading back for the stadium.
I shrugged and headed to play practice.
Just another day.

In the dark, I walked across the lawn. It was late October, a little chilly, and I was wearing my green denim jacket and bright blue Slatington sweatshirt. I was looking for some kids.
My mother was two doors down at a PTO meeting with several other parents. Most of their kids had been sent out to go play in the neighborhood, and I'd been asked to go corral them and make sure they weren't in trouble. I walked over toward the yard where they'd been playing.
As I got closer, I looked around the property. I could see the kids, several of them, scattered throughout the yard. They were crouched in the grass and approaching the neighbor's property, hiding behind trees, and crawling closer to the neighboring house. I watched them for a moment.
"Hey!" I called. "What are you guys doing?"
They all turned around, saw me, and ran to me all at once. Lisa, Brian, Jamie, Suzie, Renee, Jason, and Danica---All kids i knew. They gathered around me and began frantically explaining, all talking at once.
"Hey! Hey! Down shift!" I held up my hands, quieting them down. I turned to Lisa, marginally the most mature one. "Lisa. Explain."
"It's almost Halloween, and we were talking about ghosts," said Lisa. "And, like, the old barn over there, we think is haunted, and Jason and Brian dared each other to go and find out, so...."
"Oh christ," I said.
"So we were going to go explore it and find ghosts," said Renee.
"Oh my god, no," I said. "That barn has been in ruins since before I was born! You guys could have been hurt! What were you thinking?"
"We just wanted to see if we could explore a little," said Suzie. "Please don't tell our parents on us."
I looked at her, considering.
"No," I said. "I won't. Your parents sent me over to keep you busy. I'm going to teach you how to do this right."

"Here's my pack," I said. "I usually have some adventure stuff on me."
We were all sitting in a circle on the grass. My backpack was a battered blue thing that Kline had given me. I began pulling items out to show to the kids.
"Camera. Look. I got a Polaroid. This thing develops pictures in minutes, so you know right away what you got. I've got some spare flashes for working in the dark. And a couple of flashlights, too. You never know when you're gonna need one. I mean, what were you guys planning on doing? Just stumbling around a haunted barn in the dark, crashing into things?"
"We didn't think that far ahead," Renee admitted.
"Yeah, well, you'd have needed this, too. First aid kit. I always carry one. When you get hurt, it's too late to go and find one." Mine was in a big metal box that Kline had stolen from one of the school buses, and we'd filled with first aid stuff. I opened it to show the kids.
"What's this stuff?" asked Suzie.
"Science stuff. Litmus paper. Filter paper. A beaker. That's more for hunting water monsters, but I use it all sometimes." Kline had stolen all that, too.
"Can we hunt water monsters?"
"One thing at a time."
I pulled out my binoculars. "Binoculars. They're for watching from a safe distance. A lot of ghost hunting is just waiting for stuff to happen. You hear the part about the safe distance? This way, you don't go stumbling around a dark yard and getting killed."
"We didn't get killed," pointed out Brian.
"You didn't get killed because I showed up before you could get to the barn. I also always carry my Swiss army knife and my whip, in case I need them."
"Can I try the whip?" asked Jamie.
"No. Now, what makes you think the barn is haunted?"
"We hear noises in there," said Lisa. "Sometimes it sounds like screaming."
"Okay. We're gonna go take a look. We are staying safe." The fact that I myself had not always made a policy of being safe was something I ignored for the moment. "Everyone stays behind me. Do not run off. Do what I say, no matter what. Understand?"
They all nodded.
"Okay," I said. "I'll even let you guys hold one of the flashlights. Let's go."

We walked up to the barn, looking around the outside. I said,"Okay, let me turn on my official ghost detector." I clicked on the flashlight. "Hey. There any ghosts in here?"
Nothing happened. As we walked along the side of the barn, I saw a spot where a few boards were missing, leaving it open. I said,"We'll go in there, but let me check first."
I slipped in through the broken boards. I shined my flashlight around. The inside was big. And rickety. I could see moonlight through holes in the roof. The floor was packed dirt, and there were stables on each side.
It certainly looked haunted.
I took another step inside. A moment later, someone was slipping in through the cracks beside me. Suzie.
"I told you to wait outside," I said.
"I wanted to see," she whispered.
I nodded. "Let's check it out. Stay behind me."
We walked further in, into the center aisle of the barn. Suzie said,"Hey, Lou? I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For doing something dangerous. I didn't know."
I looked at her in the flashlight beam. "It's okay, Suzie. I'm sorry I yelled at you guys. I just don't want you to get hurt."
She smiled. "Okay."
"Come on," I said. "Let's go get the others."

All together, we walked into the barn. The kids behind me, shining our flashlights.
"Everyone stay behind me," I said. "Do not touch anything. Step where I step."
There was a noise from up ahead.
I felt Jamie grabbing my arm. "What was that?"
"Careful. Let's find out."
We carefully turned the flashlights, looking across the barn. Lisa pointed. "There!"
We looked at something moving, up ahead on the other end of the barn. I shined my flashlight on a raccoon, crawling across the floor. It looked up at me for a moment, then continued on.
"There's our ghost," I said. "There's raccoons living in here. They make a lot of noise, and sometimes even a screaming sound. I used to hear them a lot on the farm when I was little."
"Mission accomplished," said Renee.

We gathered back outside the barn, standing in the moonlight.
"That was fun," said Brian.
"We solved it," I said. "A lot of them come out like that, something you can find and explain. A while ago I went looking for Bigfoot and found a horse. Everyone learn something?"
They all nodded.
"Now you guys can do it, too," I said. "But be careful. Always. Stay safe."

Books Across Slatington

The forest would have been peaceful if it hadn't been for the sound of Kline's machete. Or my Swiss Army knife, using the saw blade to chop fallen branches to the right size. Or the occasional curse word as something went wrong.
The fort was coming along. Composed of heavy branches and stolen string, the thing was now taller than I was, about ten feet long and three wide, with three rooms inside and a six-foot doorway. It stood on the high ground between two streams, deep into the forest on our farm.
"So, your plan for this is what?" Kline asked me as we worked.
"Gonna be my secret base," I said. "Once we get this place up and waterproofed, I'll stash some of my equipment here, a couple of jackets. This will be where I plan some of my adventures."
"How come you're building your own fort in the woods? You have a bedroom, and your dad has like a million old barns."
"All of which my parents go into sometimes. Nobody ever comes this far down into the woods. This spot is all mine. I want something hid, it's going in here."
"Also, the Great Christmas Tree Goblin might show up."
"We'll see."
"What you got coming for the weekend?" he asked.
"Got a service project with the scouts. Our troop is helping to move the library."
"Wow. You think you guys can lift it by yourselves?"
"Not the whole building, you mope. The books. The library is moving to a bigger building up the road. They're gonna get everyone out there and pass books up the road. I'll be going with Troop 58, and helping out."
"Hey, cool. Call me when you're done, okay? Maybe we can go blow some stuff up." Kline looked around at the fort. "Okay if I leave some homemade bombs here?"
"See? This place is useful already."

Mark was there on Saturday. Jonas was there. So, tragically, was Rusty. In fact, most of Troop 58 had shown up to help pass books. We lined up on the street, making a human line that stretched for over a block, from the corner up to the new library on Main Street.
Mark was on my uphill side. On the other side, there was a line of younger kids---A couple I already knew, a couple of newer ones. Lisa, Jaime, Susie, Renee. Nice kids; I tried to supervise them a little as we passed books.
"No rush," I said. "Just keep it steady. You're doing fine."
"You guys! Spread out! And be careful, don't take more than you can handle! We don't want anyone getting hurt here!"
That was Esther. Esther had been in my class since the fourth grade. She was a know-it-all, a straight-A student who never so much as bent a rule. Basically the opposite of me, and it was just like her to walk in and assume that I couldn't handle it and she was in charge. Cute, though.
"Esther," I said,"I been here all morning. I got this."
"I'm making sure this gets done right," said Esther.
"I was doing it right," I muttered.
"Lou," said Mark. "We're passing the word down the line. Joey just went for a bathroom break, and he says Troop 66 is one the lower end of the line, and they're just putting books into a shopping cart."
"Those bastards!" I said. "They're gonna move more books than us!"
"So what?" said Esther. "It's not a competition. Who cares who's doing more, as long as the work gets done?"
We both stared at her. Clearly, she'd gone insane.
"What's the plan?" Mark asked.
"We're gonna take a quick break." I turned to the kids. "Be right back. Can you guys cover for me?"
"Sure," said Lisa. "We can do that, Lou."
"Thanks. Back in a  minute."

Mark and I hid behind the fireman statue, a ten-foot sculpture of a fireman with a fountain on the bottom, at the corner of Main and Third Streets. When I'd been about ten years old, it had been knocked over by a drunk driver, and then rebuilt. As far as I know, they never got the guy.
"See them?" Mark asked. I was holding out a signal mirror, trying to see from the reflection. Yeah. I carry a signal mirror.
"Not yet, I----Wait a minute. There they are." I watched them in the mirror, exiting the old library doors.
"Are they using a shopping cart?"
"Yeah. They're not in line, they're just piling up books with the shopping cart. And that idiot Walker is in charge."
"Bastards."
"Let's go tell the other---" I turned. Mark was no longer hiding behind the statue with me. He was storming out to confront Troop 66. I sighed and followed him.
"Hey! You! Dumbasses!" Mark stormed across the sidewalk, standing in front of the other troop. "What do you think you're doing?"
Their patrol leader, Walker, looked up at him. Walker was a tall kid with curly hair, the kind of insensitive jerk who usually says the wrong thing. He did that this time, too.
"Helping out," he said. "Better than you guys."
"It's not a competition, you asshole," I said.
"Good. Then it won't matter when you lose."
"I'm gonna hit him," said Mark. "Can I hit him?"
"Not yet," I said. "Look, Walker, just pick a place in the line. We're all in this together."
"Well, no," he said. "Troop 66 is in this together. Meanwhile, you guys are losers."
"Quit acting like a jackass, Walker. The last time I saw you was at that camporee where you were selling solar flashlights."
"Yeah, and you threw a cooler at my head," he said.
"You did," admitted Mark.
"I couldn't find anything heavier," I said. "And I will find a way to screw you up this time, too."
"Sure, go ahead," he said. "And with every second you waste now, we're loading up our shopping carts."
"Carts?" shouted Mark. "You guys are using more than one?!?"
I grabbed him by the collar. "Come on, Mark. Let's tell the troop."

"So, are you done acting like insufferable morons?" asked Esther when we returned to the line.
"Probably not," I said. glaring at her.
She turned to the younger kids. "Remember, lift these books safely, the way I showed you."
I was annoyed. It gave me a bit of a pang when she just walked in and took over like that. She turned and walked into the new library.
"Did you find out what you needed?" asked little Suzie.
"I think so, kid. Thanks."
"What're we gonna do?" asked Mark.
"I don't know yet. Maybe nothing. Walker's a jerk, but does it really matter?"
"We may lose this move, but we'll win the fight after."
We heard the sound of the shopping cart coming up the sidewalk. Walker and another kid were pushing it, and they were accompanied by a reprter from the local newspaper, strolling along with a pad and paper.
"I mean, I'm glad to be here," Walker was saying. "I like what we're doing, though the air is a bit nippy."
:What? Hey, interview me!" said Mark. "I'm not cold."
The reporter turned to him. "Are you with the same troop?"
"God, no. I'm with Troop 58. We're better."
"And how do you feel about today?"
"I like it," said Mark. "It's a really good cause."
The reporter wrote that down, and went to interview someone else. Walker pushed the cart into the new library. Mark said,"Why didn't you say anything?"
"I don't need to get into the newspapers. I'll just write an article for the school paper. It's almost lunchtime---Tell the guys we're gonna have to meet."

"Check it out," said Jonas. We were all sitting together at a table in the new library, eating lunch. "They got stacks of old books from the school for sale. Dollar apiece."
"I remember this one," I commented. "We used these books fro my seventh-grade English class. My old book is probably in here somewhere."
"Let's talk about Troop 66," said Mark. "This is important."
"Rusty's in the restroom," said Jonas,"But he was wondering what the big deal is."
"The big deal is that Rusty acts like a dumbass," I said. "We can't let Troop 66 do better than us. They're losers. Walker is the poster child for birth control. We have to move more books than them."
"They're using shopping carts," said Jon.
"We did come here in a pickup truck," said Mark.
We all looked at him. I said,"We did, didn't we? We have a pickup truck."
"Your dad has a pickup truck," Jonas pointed out. "We have a ride home."
"But if we can convince him to use it after lunch," I said,"We can probably get the rest of the books in one or two trips. And it's just a matter of driving the thing up the alley. Hell, I could do it."
"Don't."
"No. You talk to my dad," I said to Jonas. "He likes you. Convince him to let us load up the truck. Mark and me will check out the back of the old library, see where we can load up. And we'll get more books than those jerks over in 66."
"Okay," said Jonas. "I'll try."
"We'll help," said Lisa.
I looked at them. The kids had been sitting quietly at the next table eating their lunches. I said,"What?"
"We'll help you load the books," said Renee. "If you need us, we'll help. It'll go faster with all of us."
"Why are you helping?" I asked.
"You've been good to us," said Suzie. "You're our leader."
I smiled.
"Okay. Thanks. Let's get to work."

Mark and I walked through the library, looking at the mostly empty shelves. I said,"My mom used to bring me here when I was little. Had some good times in this library."
"We'll have good times in the new one, too," said Mark. "And I sent Rusty to start up with Walker, as a distraction."
"That's about all Rusty's good for."
"How about that door?"
"Let's try." We walked to the back of the building, and I tried the door. "Locked."
"I can probably pick it. Or bust it down."
"Mark. We're on the inside." I unlocked it. "Now, if Jonas just talked Dad into showing up with the truck...."
I opened the door. Out back, in the alley, Jonas was sitting in the back of my father's blue pickup truck.
He grinned at us. "About time you guys got here."

"Stack them---It'll save space!"
We began carrying books out the back door to the alley, loading up the truck. I had Suzie and Jaime in the truck, organizing and trying to be as space-efficient as possible. With all of us working, we got the truck loaded up---It was most of the remaining books, probably the last load of the day.
I ran to the back door with the final stack of books, threw it into the truck, and then jumped in after it. With everyone in the truck, sitting on top of books, we held on as Dad backed up the alley. Safety-wise, it was a much different time.
We backed up the alley to the loading dock on the new building, and I reached up and opened the doors. We began unloading the final books into the new library, and Mark and I high-fived.
I stepped off the truck and into the building. Lisa walked up to me, holding one of the English books.
"We found your old book for you," she said. "It's a present."
I opened the cover, and there was my signature, scribbled in the handwriting of seventh-grade me. I smiled.
"You guys dug through all those books to find this for me?"
"It's because you've always been so good to us," said Renee.
"Thanks," I said. "I know just where I'll put it."

I had a small shelf in my fort, composed of a small piece of wood propped on the branches. I set the book on the shelf, took a step back, and looked it over.
"Your first trophy," said Kline, standing beside me.
I nodded. "Now that we have the waterproofing done, I figured I'd keep it down here."
He looked it over. "It looks good. Like it belongs there."
"Yeah," I said. "It does."

The Night In The Purple Room

I was watching the movie without paying much attention. I was sitting on the couch with my feet propped up on the coffee table, finishing a stromboli and some Pepsi. My parents had been gone a couple of hours, and already I was bored.
My parents were taking a trip down to the Virginia beach. My brothers and sister had been farmed out to stay with my grandparents for three days, but at seventeen, I'd been deemed old enough to stay home unsupervised. My father had given me three rules: Be inside by dark, no friends sleeping over, and something else; I hadn't paid attention.
I was considering what else to do when there was a knock at the front door. I got up and opened it.
It was my friend Mark, from down the street. He had a sleeping bag in one hand, and a BB gun in the other.
"Lou," he said,"I need to stay here. There's a biker gang after me."

"Okay, you know my mom's a nurse, right?" Mark sat in my kitchen. "She called a half hour ago. She was on her way to the hospital for her shift, and she found this guy on the road. A biker gang had beaten him up, and left him for dead."
"She told you this?" I was pacing around the kitchen.
"In a big hurry. They gang found out, and they called and threatened her. She's staying tonight at the hospital---She's fine. But she wanted me to get out of the house and find someplace safe to spend the night. And you been blabbing all over the neighborhood how you'e by yourself for three days, so...."
"Well, hey, you can stay, man. Just don't tell anyone. My dad will kill me."
"Sure."
"We should be safe here. We're way outside of town; you can't find this place without trying real hard. The goddamn school buses can't figure out where I live."
"What if they do find us, though? We can't fight a biker gang. We'd need an army."
I stopped, turned around, and looked at him.
"Then let's get an army."

We made a few calls.
Ordinarily, "Come over and maybe fight a biker gang" is not an easy conversation to have with your friends. It's why I made Kline the first call. With no questions asked, he said,"Be right over."
In half an hour, we had a bunch of friends gathered in my bedroom. Mark and Kline, PJ, the Voiceman, Robby, Buddy Nickel, and Missy.
The bedroom was sort of disconnected from the rest of the house. It had once been a separate servants' building, until I'd moved in just before starting high school. I'd painted the walls purple, put up my superhero posters, and taught my dog Lucky to climb in through the window.
"So what's all this about a biker gang?" asked PJ, a short, cute, brown-haired girl from my neighborhood.
"Mark's mom fixed up a guy they wanted dead," I said. "They made a threatening call to her at work. She was worried that they might come and find him at home, so he came over here."
Robby turned to Mark. "Seriously?"
"Mom was worried," said Mark. "It gets me out of the house."
"Awesome," said Kline. "I got some guns, and my trauma kit in the car."
"Can we not be waving around guns in the house?" I said. "We're just gonna kind of wait it out here and hope they don't find us. And nobody tell my dad. The seven of you know, but keep this quiet."
"I'll check outside, and stand guard," said Kline. "We can take turns."
"Can we go swim in the pond while we're here?" asked Robby.
"My dad won't let me do that anymore since I tried to find a Kraken in there," I said. "Also I made coffee."

Within half an hour, everyone had settled into a weird sort of sleepover. My friends were drinking coffee that was too strong, playing cards, watching a VCR tape, and and generally keeping out of trouble. I wound up carrying my whip, on the front porch with Kline, who was standing guard and looking out at the road.
"Gonna be seniors soon, man," said Kline.
"Who cares?" I said. "School sucks. I'm smarter than all the teachers, except for Paula."
"Maybe we'll get to sit at the cool kids' table in the cafeteria," he said.
"Come on, man. You know better. The jocks are gonna sit there. We'll be at those tables on the outskirts like we always are."
"We make better smoke bombs than they do, though."
"This is true."
"You wanna walk around some?"
"Yeah."
We walked down the stone steps, off the porch, and up through the yard into the Douglas Fir fields.
"No outlaw bikers yet," said Kline. "Been quiet."
"Too quiet."
He grinned. "You have any good adventures lately?"
"Well, I found a guy the other night all dressed in black trying to get into a house through a window. I tackled him, told him I was protecting Slatington."
"Awesome! You send him to jail?"
"No, actually, it seems I just scared hell out of a priest who accidentally locked himself out."
"Oh," Kline said. "Was it the Church on Washington Street?"
"Yeah, it was the church on Washington Street."
There was a sound above, and we looked up. Something was flying low overhead.
"What the hell?" said Kline.
"UFO!" I said. "Look! What the hell is that?"
It was low enough we could hear some sort of engine, and looked like a triangle composed of red and white lights. It was flying north, and we watched it, running underneath until it passed over.
"I just see the lights!" I shouted.
Kline pulled out a small automatic and pointed it up, at the thing. I smacked his arm. "No! Will you put the guns away? Don't shoot it!"
It roared overhead, disappearing over the mountains in the general direction of Walnutport. Things got quiet again.
"What the hell was that?" I said.
"Definitely unidentified," said Kline.
"Some kind of military thing?"
He shook his head. "There's no bases close enough. And if it was, they'd never admit it."
"Well, it was weird."
"Is the Slatington airport that direction?" he asked.
"Let's find out."
We walked back to the house, and into my room, where a few of the kids were sitting and talking.
"What was all that outside?" asked Mark.
"Something flew over," I said. "It was big, with all these lights."
"Aliens!" said Mark.
"Your sister's an alien," I said.
I sat down at my desk and opened my desk drawer. I had a photocopied map of Slatington in a file, and I got it out and set it on the desk.
"Where are we, right now?" Kline asked.
I pointed at the lower portion of the map. "South of Slatington. Right here. Where's the airport?"
"Here." He pointed at the northernmost end of the town.
We looked it over.
"Yep," I said. "It was definitely heading in that direction. Not aliens---Some kind of plane, flying way too low."
"Looks like it," agreed Kline.
"Now, aren't you glad you didn't shoot it?"
"Not really."
And that was when Voiceman came running into the room through the back door.
"Guys! Come quick! PJ fell in the old well!"

Behind our farmhouse was an old well that we hadn't used in years. It was covered with a wooden platform that was rotting away. All of us knew not to stand on it---My dad had covered that rule pretty thoroughly---But PJ was new. She hadn't hung around long enough to know that.
And she was in there.
"What're you going to do?" Mark asked.
I looked at him.
"Whatever I can."
The platform at the top was broken, and I could hear her splashing around down below. I grabbed a rope from the back porch, tied an end around my waist, and jumped in, dropping about ten feet into the water. PJ was thrashing, and I grabbed her. I held onto the pipe running down into the water, and we clung to each other.
"You okay?" I asked.
She nodded and coughed.
"Get....us....out of here."
"Working on that," I said.
It didn't seem a good time to mention that I'd forgotten to tie the other end of the rope to something.
But then it drew up. I felt it pulling, tightening. Up above, Kline and Mark were pulling, hauling me up.
Clinging to PJ, I felt the rope tighten painfully around my waist as it pulled me up, out of the water. As we got closer to the top, Kline reached over and grabbed PJ's hand. Mark grabbed me by the arm, and they hauled us up and out.
We lay on the grass for a moment, soaked and coughing. I looked over at PJ.
"You okay?"
She nodded, blinking at me.
"Okay. Yeah. Okay."

The night we spent in my purple room was about the worst-kept secret of Northern Lehigh High School. By the time Kline and I began our senior year, everyone knew about it except the adults. Most of the other kids treated the two of us with a little trepidation for a while.
My parents came back two nights later. By that point, we'd cleaned up everything, and erased most of the traces of our adventure. My dad got an immediate sense something had happened; he prowled around the house for weeks looking for something. A broken dish, a missing vase. He was thinking too small; he never stood a chance.
Incidentally, seventeen years later at age thirty-three, I would confess the whole thing to him over my mother's deathbed.

"Got everything cleaned a fixed," said Kline. "We got the well patched up, the rope hung up, the window with the bullet hole fixed. Missy picked the dog hair out of the shower drain."
I nodded. "Good. Thanks. Hope we didn't miss anything."
"Everyone's on their way home now," he said.
PJ came into the bedroom. She'd changed clothes and dried off.
"Hey," she said. "Lou. Thank you for saving me."
"You know, all's well that---"
"No," she said. "Don't be flip about this. I was going to drown, and you saved me. Thank you."
I nodded.
"Anytime."
"And no matter what anyone says," she said,"You'll always be a hero to me."

Hurricane Lou

Outside the rented van, the landscape sped past. I saw the "You Are Now Leaving Pennsylvania" sign as we flashed past it, heading for the troop's annual summer camping trip to Camp Treasure Valley in Massachusetts.
"Hey. Lou. Pay attention." Mark snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Don't make me smack you. We gotta decide what merit badges we're doing."
"Ah, come on, Mark. I got a bunch of my required ones already. I'm down to the electives now."
"Yeah, well, I'm not and I still gotta choose. I'm thinking Reptile Study."
"Have fun with that. I hate snakes."
"Oh, yeah, I forgot." A wad of crumpled newspaper flew just over Mark's head and bounced off the window. Mark turned and flung it back in the direction it had come. "Hey! Knock it off! I'm watching you, Rusty!"
I leaned in toward Mark. "I think, when we get to camp, we tell Rusty he has to exchange all his Pennsylvania money for Massachusetts money."
"Both states use the same money," Mark said.
"A buck says Rusty doesn't know that."
"You're right. You take Cooking yet?"
"Couple of years ago. How about you?"
"I'm thinking about it. How about Wilderness Survival?"
"What do I have to do for that one?"
Mark looked over the handbook. "You have to go out overnight carrying only a knife, and live in the woods until morning. Build your own shelter, that kind of thing. Think you can do that?"
"Hell, I'd be asleep half the time. I might try that one."
"I actually didn't think you slept."
"And maybe I'll go for Astronomy, too. I don't have that one yet."
Another newspaper ball flew over, this time just out of reach.
"Rusty!" shouted Mark. "I swear to God!"

I stacked up the wood and held a match to the kindling, getting the fire started. The flame caught the small stuff underneath, and spread upward, beginning to ride to the sticks and bigger pieces above it. I watched as it rose, and grew, and then I sat back as it became an actual fire. Someone else could use it to cook breakfast.
Mark sat down next to me. He was wearing his maroon jacket from his little league team. I had my green denim jacket, which was ratty and beaten up, but I loved it.
"How's it going?" he asked.
"Pretty good. How 'bout you?"
"I was just listening to the radio. Tonight's the night you're going out, right?"
I nodded. "Yeah. I'll be taking my Swiss Army knife and hiking out around the lake. It's past the chapel---I might stop to climb the chapel on the way past; they made that thing just too tempting. All the guys working on the badge are gonna be spread out over like a mile of forest, so we can't team up. I'll build a shelter, sleep in it, and come back in the morning."
"Yeah, well, about that....You think they'll still make you go out if there's tornado warnings?"
".....Are there tornado warnings?"
"I heard it on the radio. The weather's gonna get bad tonight, and they say there might be a tornado."
"Seriously? Like a hundred kids a year get this merit badge, but when I try it, I get tornado warnings."
"You want me to sneak out there, bring you some supplies and stuff?"
"No, I don't want that. You stay here at camp."
"You sure? I could bring you food and a Walkman---"
"No, they're letting me take my knife, and maybe a few other things I can fit in my pockets."
"Are they gonna, like, inspect you guys?"
"I doubt it, we're not even gonna be really supervised. The counselor says he's not going because it might rain."
"Well, he's not wrong."
"No. There's tornado warnings. But he says he's going into town to watch Howard The Duck, so maybe I'm dodging a bullet there."

It was a dark and stormy night. No, really.
We'd left at around three in the afternoon. There were maybe a dozen scouts, none of the others from my troop, and we'd hiked out and around Browning Pond, into the more remote forested area. One by one, we'd gone off the trail and claimed a campsite for our own.
My site was on a hill with some huge trees around, with a small meadow, and it looked pretty much like all the rest of the forest. It was raining. It wasn't raining real hard, at least not yet, but it was wet and rainy. I couldn't tell how close I was to an actual tornado, if one was really imminent, or if this was just rain. Maybe they all looked like this.
I started by gathering supplies. The most important thing was going to be getting a shelter built. I walked around the edges of the meadow, picking up stuff I could use to live in for the night.
The nice thing about camping alone in a remote area is that there's literally nothing else to do but survive. I was in no hurry to finish the shelter, which was good for quality. I chose a tree with a Y-shaped fork maybe three or four feet up, and got to work.
I found a long, thick fallen branch and propped it into the fork of the tree. This was going to act as the center beam for my new home. Then I gathered up a lot of white pine boughs, and spread them out on the ground below it. Floor.
I had the time, and the inclination, to lavish a lot of care on this shelter as I built it. I took some branches and propped them up on each side against the center beam, spacing them all maybe six to eight inches apart, in some cases sawing them to the right size with my knife. This gave me a sort of double-wide lean-to, with a small opening on the big end.
Then came the trickiest part. I gathered up a lot of fallen sticks with leaves still on them---The biggest, flattest leaves I could find. Oak leaves were perfect, and I found a lot of fallen oak leaves in my corner of Camp Treasure Valley. I placed them carefully on my shelter, leaning them on the side supports. I began at the bottom and worked my way up to the top, which gave the leaves a shingle effect and would block out the most rain.
When I finished, I stepped back to study my new shelter. It looked pretty good. It was never going to exactly be featured on Lifestyles Of The Rich And Famous, but it should keep me out of the rain until morning.
I was hungry. I walked around the meadow, picking some dandelions---Every part of a dandelion is edible. I shoved my pockets full of them and crawled into my shelter.
I looked at my watch. It was about seven-thirty. I had a long night ahead of me, but the good news was, all I had to do was stay where I was and wait it out. I leaned back against the tree, sitting inside the shelter, and sat down to eat my dandelions.

It was sometime around midnight when the tree went down.
I'd been sitting up, studying the Astronomy merit badge book that I'd brought out in a jacket pocket. There was just enough light to be able to see it by. So with nothing else to do, I'd been technically working on two merit badges at once, learning about the constellations while I ran out the clock for Wilderness Survival.
I heard it happen---A loud, prolonged crash. Scared the hell out of me. The wind had been building up, though the rain was no worse. A tree somewhere to the right of my shelter creaked, broke, and went down hard to the ground. If a tree falls in the forest.....
I crawled out of the shelter. It was maybe a hundred yards away, a big maple that had been blown down. I studied it for a while. I was really, really lucky it hadn't been closer.
The bottom of it was dead and beginning to rot---Probably why it came down. I looked it over, and then went back to the shelter. I crawled back inside; the tree I was up against looked solid enough.
I sat down with the Astronomy book again. After a moment, I took a pen out of my pocket and began to write.
"This is Lou. If I'm found dead out here...."
If anything happened to me, they'd send someone out to search when I didn't come back. And with my body, they'd find this note.
"I don't have all that much to leave behind, but what I do have, I want to give away. To Mark I leave my Boy Scout Fieldbook. My dad gave it to me, and it's taught me a lot of good stuff. I want you to learn from it the way I have."
I was out here, alone, in the forest. And it was a dangerous situation. If anything happened, I was on my own.
"To Kline, I leave my backpack and my whip. Use them on adventures."
And it wasn't just this one individual camping trip. Since my suicide attempt in January, I'd become an adventurer. I'd been doing dangerous things. And that led to some scary situations where anything could happen.
I could die.
"To Misty Jo, I leave my Swiss Army Knife. It's been helpful to me, and I hope it's just as helpful to you as you grow up."
And I signed it, this weird little impromptu last will and testament, scribbled in the back of a merit badge book in the middle of a forest in a tornado. I put it in my jacket pocket, where it would eventually be found if something happened to me.
It was one in the morning.

I opened my eyes around four AM. I was cold and stiff, but otherwise okay. The rain had slowed down considerably. I could hear the water still dripping off the trees, but the storm and wind had died down.
Once again I crawled from the shelter, standing up and looking around. The tornado appeared to have passed.
I looked up. I could see the stars now. Just a little bit of pink light was beginning to creep in at the horizon as morning approached. I could pick out some of the constellations I'd seen in my Astronomy book.
I stood there a long moment, thinking. Looking out over the meadow. The green and black and pink, a beautiful scene, really, in spite of all I'd gone through out there. This spot, this place that I'd somehow ended up in, so far from my home. The chain of events, throughout my whole life, that had led to this---Me standing in a field after a tornado, watching the sun rise.
As the sun came up, I knocked down the shelter and cleaned up any trace that I'd been there.
By sunrise, I was heading back.

The troop was eating breakfast when I trudged back into camp. Mark was at the picnic table, and I sat down next to him. There was oatmeal.
"You made it," he said.
I nodded. "I'm home."
"How'd it go?"
"Not like I pictured." I spooned some oatmeal into a bowl. There was toast, too, burned over the campfire. I looked for a knife to spread the butter with, didn't see one, and pulled out my Swiss Army knife. I slipped the Astronomy book out of my pocket, and then opened it and glanced at what I'd written on the back page.
"What's that?"
I closed the book.
"Just something I needed ti write down. A few thoughts I had to get down on paper."
"Ah, Lou," said Mark dismissively. "Don't sweat it. That kind of thing can always wait until later."
I smiled.
"Yeah," I said. "Yesterday I thought that, too."

Cold Case

There was a boggart on the nature trail.
Okay, there actually wasn't. But it was dark, and I was walking along the nature trail by myself, and when I turned and saw a tree stump that was vaguely shaped like the English spirits, I was surprised at how much it startled me.
I got to the end of the path, which overlooked the quarry, and I stood on the rocks just above it. Every few years, some kid would be swimming in the quarry and drown, and there would be an outcry that would eventually die down in time for the next drowning.
I took off my pack, a battered blue thing that Kline had given me, and pulled out a Polaroid camera. I began taking photos that spit out the front, and I gathered them and slipped them into my jacket pocket. I had twenty pictures loaded, and I used up most of them. Then I turned and walked back down the path, away from the quarry and into the woods, across the wooden bridge, and up the hill toward the tennis courts.
Kline was waiting there. "You do it?" he asked.
I nodded. "I got a bunch of photos. You got any plans for the weekend?"
"Probably gonna shoot some animals. How about you?"
"Got a camping trip with my Boy Scout troop. Winter camping in the springhouse out at my place."
"Cool."
"Cool."
We slipped back into play practice through the back doors, into the cafeteria where all the other kids waited backstage. I approached the table where the Orphans were sitting with a bunch of older kids, and slapped the photos down on the table.
"There," I said. "I did the dare---I went in the dark and got pictures. Now quit telling Misty Jo there's zombies on the nature trail."

Someone had come up with the great idea to leave a bunch of teenagers unsupervised in a snowstorm.
I mean, it had seemed like a good idea. My Boy Scout troop was camping in the springhouse on my dad's property, so it wasn't like we were totally on our own. But as night fell and a big snowstorm started, the actual survival part of it began to seem kind of intimidating.
"With a snowstorm coming in, we're gonna be stuck here for a while," I said. "What do we have done so far?"
"Everyone's got their packs stored and their sleeping bags out," said Jonas, who was sort of the unofficial second in command. "We have the perishable food out in the snow, so it doesn't go bad. Joey's downstairs, filling up the water bottles from the spring. I have Mark, Bobby, and Jon out getting firewood."
"Good. We're going to need a fire." I knelt down by the metal furnace and began building one. I started ripping strips off of an empty milk carton. Those are great for starting fires---They light quick, and the wax makes them waterproof. I began building a small pyramid with the carton strips and some small sticks.
Three of the other scouts came back in, carrying some broken branches. It wasn't enough to hold us all weekend, but it was a start. I said,"Put them there by the furnace."
They dumped the wood into a pile. Mark said,"We saw something big out there. There was something walking around. Might have been a wolf."
"It was bigger than a wolf," said Bobby.
"Might have been Bigfoot."
"It wasn't Bigfoot, you loser."
I got a small fire started, put a couple of branches in, and closed the furnace door. "What's all this about Bigfoot?"
"It wasn't Bigfoot," said Bobby.
"Well, it was something big," said Mark. "We heard something moving around in the trees up at the top of the hill. Near the Bulldozer Trail. We couldn't really see what it was, but it was big and loud."
"We should check it out," I said.
"You know we're supposed to stay near the springhouse in bad weather," said Jonas. "Rusty will tell on us if we're out running around."
"Rusty's a little weasel," I said. "If I can get Mark and me snuck out of here, can you keep him busy?"
"I can make him clean the upstairs."
"Mark and me will slip out."
"Lou," said Mark,"This place has one door. How do you plan to sneak out?"
"Leave that to me," I said.

We headed for the back room. On the way, I grabbed the troop's first aid kit from where it hung on the wall.
The back room to our springhouse was mostly used for storage, and closed off from the rest of the house. It was in bad condition, with the floor sagging and no glass in the windows.
"Lou, there's no way we're getting out of here," said Mark. "This room doesn't even have any doors."
"We're going through the window," I said.
Mark looked out the window. "We're fifteen feet up."
I picked up a coil of rope and cut off a couple of feet with my Swiss Army knife. Then I took the scissors out of the first aid kit.
"We're gonna rappel," I told him.
He squinted at me. "You ever done this before?"
"Sort of. I saw it on The A-Team."
I made a loop with the short piece of rope, feeding it through one hole in the handle of the scissors. Then I took the longer piece, wrapped it into a coil through the other hole, tied one end to a beam, and threw the other out the window. When I stepped into the short loop, I was essentially wearing a harness and attached to the rope, using the scissors handle as a figure-eight descender.
"You're not serious," said Mark.
"In theory, it should work," I said.
"You go first."
I stepped up on the windowsill, took a deep breath, and jumped backward out into space.
The scissors slid along the rope, arresting my free fall into a slower, more controlled slide. I fell back against the wall about halfway down, hitting it with my feet and sliding the rest of the way. I landed on my feet, harmlessly, in the snow.
I looked up at Mark, staring out the window at me.
"Pull this up," I said. "Your turn."

We walked up the trail to the top of the hill, where several trails met. The snow was coming down around us. Mark pointed. "It was right up there, in those trees."
"Let's take a look."
We walked into the trees, and I looked down. I saw tracks in the snow, walking aimlessly around.
"See anything?" Mark asked.
"There's tracks, but I can't tell from what," I said. "Not human tracks. Something was walking around out here, but the snow's covering it. In half an hour, they'll be completely covered." I stood up. "They went that way."
"You hungry? I got bullion."
"I'm good."
Mark took out a packet of beef bullion and began eating it dry. He had that habit; he would carry packets around and eat them in pinches.
I was carrying my whip, a three-foot brown leather weapon. I'd gotten it secondhand from a friend a while ago, and I'd been practicing, but I hadn't had much of a chance to use it yet.
"What do you think it is?"
"The Great Christmas Tree Goblin maybe? I don't know, Mark."
"The what?"
"When I was like eight, my dad told me about a creature I'm pretty sure he made up. We live on a Christmas tree farm, so he talked about this big green Bigfoot thing that he called the Great Christmas Tree Goblin. I think he was trying to scare me into not getting out and exploring at night."
"Did it work?"
"Not really. I spent a lot of time sneaking out to find the Great Christmas Tree Goblin."
We walked downhill. I knelt down, looking at the ground.
"What're you looking for?" asked Mark.
"I'll know when I see it," I said. "One of the tricks to tracking is to imagine everything the way it should be, and then see what's wrong with the picture. Look. Whatever it was stepped on this stick."
"A broken stick? In the forest? Oh, sure, you'd never find one of those otherwise."
"Mark. Shut up. Look. The broken part is still clean and light-colored. If it had been, say, overnight, it would have been dark and dirty. This was just recently broken. And it's a clean break, too, which means that it was something with a hard foot, not a soft padded foot."
"How do you learn all this stuff?"
"I read a lot." I stood up. "He went thataway."
We walked back uphill---The area I'd grown up in is covered with rolling hills. The snow reflects light, making it easier to see---We didn't even need flashlights.
"If we see Bigfoot, can we shoot him?" Mark asked.
"We're not shooting Bigfoot."
"What if it's self-defense?"
"It is not self-defense to shoot a monster in the trees. Also, we don't have guns."
"With all the dangerous stuff you been doing lately, you don't have a gun?"
"I don't like guns much. I don't trust people with anything more dangerous than a paper clip."
We followed the trail, at this point getting fairly far from the springhouse. I found tracks, signs of the creature passing, as we went.
"Shh," said Mark. "Up there."
"What?"
"I hear it."
We moved forward, toward the trees. I could hear it, something big rustling in the pine trees. I held out a cautious hand toward Mark, and got out my whip.
It came through the trees---A horse. A big, brown horse.
"A horse!" said Mark.
"A stray horse," I said.
He gave me a look. "You guys get stray horses out here?"
"Every couple of years, yeah. A horse will get away from some nearby farm and roam around a while. He'll walk around for a day ro so, and then head home---They always do."
"So what now?" asked Mark.
"Let's go back to the troop and tell Rusty there's dead bodies buried under the springhouse."
"Is there?"
"You never know."

Origin

The girl didn't look possessed.
I sat in a ring of teens on the porch, sitting in the dark around an old picnic table. We all were holding hands, and counting backward from one hundred in turns, going around the table. I said,"Two...."
"One," said the girl next to me.
She opened her eyes. Looking around at us, she said,"I am here."
Her voice had dropped an octave, gotten a gravelly, rough sound. Everyone gasped and stared at her. Someone said,"Who are you?"
"I am from the Underworld," she said. "You have summoned me. I come to take----Ow! Hey!"
I'd poked her arm with a pin that I'd slipped out of a small slot on my Swiss Army knife. She jumped back, and reverted to her actual voice.
"You telling me demons can be defeated with a pin?" I asked.
The other kids turned to me. "Come on, Lou!" one of them said. "Are you trying to ruin the seance?"
"This is why you wanted me here," I said, standing up. "You were doing a seance, and you asked me to come and see if it was real. And it's not. A pin startled her, made her talk in her real voice. There's no demon. You guys are just playing around."
"Great," said one of the other kids sarcastically. "Now get out, before you ruin the rest of the night."
I walked out and left, heading home. Back toward the farm I lived on.
You know how it goes. You're sixteen, an outcast, and nobody ever invites you to the good seances.

I stood by the table in Chemistry class, sorting garbage.
"Remember, when you're doing archaeology, you're looking through the things people threw out," said our student teacher, Miss Paula. "You're trying to learn about other cultures from what they left behind. So we're trying to figure out where in the building this stuff comes from."
"So if I find Atlantis," I said,"I dig and learn about them from their garbage."
Miss Paula smiled. "And why are you looking for Atlantis?"
"It's the only way I'll get into college."
"You could go to college if you applied yourself," said Esther, a girl I'd known since the fourth grade. "You're always out doing something crazy."
"Not always."
"When you were six, you organized your cousins into a group to look for ghosts. When you were eleven, you built a sea monster trap in your dad's pond. That summer you spent with your aunt in Lock Haven, you went looking for ghost towns."
"I mean, sometimes I pause to eat."
"Lou can do whatever he wants with his spare time," said Miss Paula. "Everyone get to work and figure out where these bags came from."
"So how was your seance?" my best friend Kline asked quietly as we worked.
"It sucked," I said. "No actual demons. Just some kids in the neighborhood, pretending."
"You really thought you'd find a demon?" he asked.
"Not really, but you never know. Make a great article for the school newspaper if I did."
"Does anyone have any thoughts on where their bags came from?" Miss Paula asked the class.
I put my hand up. "Mine is the English class."
"And what makes you think that?"
"I found bits of tobacco in the bottom."
"The English teacher doesn't smoke," said Esther.
"No, but the History teacher does," I said. "I've seen him. But he pretends he doesn't because he doesn't want us to know. So he never brings in a packet; he smuggles his cigarettes in a plastic bag. Which he never throws away in his own garbage---He uses the English teacher's wastebasket across the hall."
Miss Paula nodded. "He's right."
"Bam. Told you."
Kline asked,"You coming to play practice tonight?"
"I'll be there."

I was sitting at play practice on a warm January night.
The school musical was "Annie." My high school couldn't win at football, basketball, checkers, or anything else, but we had great school musicals. This was mainly because of the Director of Janitorial Services, a talented man who had been raised around the theater. So he knew how to direct, but never got the education to go higher than head janitor. He was the only person in the school system good enough to run the school plays, and he even hired the music teachers. The only person able to tell if a music teacher was qualified was the Director of Janitorial Services.
The Orphans were dancing onstage.
There were thirteen girls from the elementary school playing the Orphans in the play, and I'd been placed in charge of them. Backstage babysitter. At first it had been a grudging thing, but I'd been a little surprised to find myself growing attached to them. I'd gotten particularly close to the youngest, nine-year-old Misty Jo.
I gave her an encouraging smile, and she grinned at me. I walked up the stairs and into the high school's upstairs lobby. I stood by the huge window, looking north toward the stadium in the dark.
"What's wrong, buddy?"
Kline was behind me. I turned around. "I've just been feeling depressed, man."
"What's wrong?"
"Just a bunch of stuff. Mrs. Ellis didn't like my article on the marching band."
"Yeah, well, they suck."
"That's what I told her. She didn't like my writing style. She says I don't have what it takes to be a real writer."
"Well, she sucks, too."
"I just wish I could do something good, you know? I feel, like, worthless. Like I'm not good enough. That's why I want to discover something, you know? Something big, to make me feel like I matter. A ghost, a lost city, something like that." I turned and looked out the window. Rain was beginning to come down. "Something cool."

My bedroom was purple. My knife was red.
I sat on my bedroom floor, holding the knife against my wrist. I wanted to cut it. I wanted to die.
I closed my eyes, and prepared to press down. In the morning, they'd find me when I didn't show up for school.
I thought of Misty and the Orphans.
Damn it.
I wanted to cut my wrist. I didn't want to go on living. I thought of the smile she'd given me. The Orphans would miss me if I died.
Damn it.
I stood up and grabbed my green denim jacket. I walked out into the rain. I couldn't do it; I couldn't kill myself. Not when people would miss me. Maybe I could get hit by a car or something.
I lived in an area that might charitably be called "rural." I lived on a farm, surrounded mostly by other farms, punctuated by forests. I walked down the road, seeing nobody, walking in the rain.
I was maybe a mile from my house when I heard the scream.
It was coming from a house to my right, at the bottom of a huge hill. We'd ridden past there before and speculated that it was haunted. This could be an opportunity. I moved close to the house and looked in a window.
There were two people inside. Not haunted, after all. It was a man and a girl---She was dark-haired, a little younger than me maybe. He was drunk and hitting her. Not ghosts. Child abuse.
I retreated across the road and gathered up some decent-sized rocks. I began to throw them at the front door, making it bang loudly. Hit the door---BANG. Door---BANG. That one hit the car---BANG. Oh well. I kept heaving the rocks.
He burst out of the house with a rifle---It looked like a .22. He began firing into the woods near me. I ran deeper into the forest as he blazed away drunkenly.
He came across the road, and I circled back around toward the house. In the dark forest, with the rain, he didn't see me. I ran around to the back porch, trying the door.
It opened in to the kitchen. The girl was there. We stared at each other for a long moment.
"Who are you?" she said.
"I'm here to help you," I said. "My name is Lou."
"I'm Denise."
"Look, I just got here and stumbled on this, but it can't be much fun getting beat up by your dad. If I can get you out of here, do you have someplace you can stay?"
"With my mother," she said. "My parents are divorced. I have to stay weekends with my dad, because nobody really believes he gets drunk and hits me."
I nodded. "I'm going to see if I can prove that. I want you to call the cops. Now, it's the state cops in this area, so it's gonna take a while. I'll keep your dad busy. You stay safe."
"Hey. Why are you doing this for me?" Denise asked.
"Even I don't know," I said, and went back out into the rain.
The father was still by the road, on the outskirts of the forest, running around with his gun. He was facing away from me. I stopped by a birch tree and began ripping bark off of it.
Here's the thing about birch bark---It burns. Even in the rain, it burns. I peeled off a pretty good pile of it, and lit it on fire.
Then I shouted, and ran, ducking back into the forest. I didn't want to die any more---I'd forgotten about the suicide attempt earlier. I wanted to live, and help.
He turned and saw the fire. Panicking, he ran to stomp it out. I got across the road again, deep into the woods, where he couldn't see me. I was scratched and bleeding from the thorns and branches, soaking wet, my hair hanging in my eyes.
He fired into the forest, and then clumsily began reloading. I threw a fallen branch up into another tree branch, making a racket, and I moved. I'd seen Rambo enough times to know to change position. He looked up, startled, and kept reloading. Then he raised his gun and began blasting where I wasn't.
He was still shooting when the state police car arrived---Earlier than expected.
Drunk, dripping with rain, and holding a smoking gun, he turned to face the cops. They relieved him of the rifle and handcuffed him.
I'd retreated further into the woods, and I was watching from a distance.
I'd helped someone. I'd done it.

"You're gonna be fine," said Kline. I was sitting on the cafeteria table in what passed for our high school's backstage. He had his EMT bag sitting next to me, and was looking over my cuts and scrapes. "You could try not almost getting yourself killed. A little warning next time, okay? Dumbass."
"I saved somebody," I said.
"Yeah, you did. And you almost ended up dead in a ditch. You weren't even armed. I say again: Dumbass."
"Well, I might change that. I'm thinking about getting a whip for next time."
Kline looked at me. "Next time?"
I shrugged. "You remember I wanted to do something with my life? I think I just found it. I had an adventure, and I helped someone. If I can keep doing that....Maybe I don't have to kill myself, after all."
He looked at me. "I could teach you some first aid. Some karate."
"Yeah. I want that."
"How long you gonna do this for?" he asked. "I mean, it's not like you can just make adventures into a career."
"As long as I can," I said. "And see what I can discover. Something cool. Mostly...." I thought about it a moment. "Mostly, I think I'm gonna just be me."