The Lost Boys Page 2

  She worried, sometimes, about taking the boys away from their father. Not for their father’s sake—oh, no. She didn’t think she’d ever have a kind thought for that man again. But should teenage boys be left without a man they could look up to?

  Well, there was her father, of course. Now that the boys were going to live with their grandfather, she supposed he could take over some of the responsibilities of role model. Then again, with the way her father had been acting lately, she wondered if the boys might make a better role model for him than the other way around.

  “All set, Mom!” Michael called from the back of the Land Rover. Lucy glanced a final time at the numbers on the pump and handed the attendant a twenty.

  Sam came running up, Nanook barking at his heels. “Mom!” Sam managed, despite being out of breath. “There’s an amusement park right on the beach!”

  Lucy smiled. Sam wasn’t going to have any trouble adjusting at all.

  “That’s the Boardwalk, Sam.”

  Sam’s eyes lit up as if the name were magic. “Boardwalk? Can we go, Mom?”

  Lucy brushed at her son’s hair. “Maybe later. Grandpa’s expecting us.”

  Her eyes wandered back to the trampolines. The two little girls were gone, but there were two other teenagers in the comer of the lot by the dumpster. Their eyes followed the attendant as he walked into the office to fetch Lucy’s change. The minute he disappeared, they had flipped the top from the bin and eagerly rummaged through the garbage. Lucy realized they must be looking for food. The two of them were so thin! Their clothes were threadbare as well. One of them had worn a hole in the elbow of his sweatshirt. Could boys like this live around here?

  “Here you are, ma’am.”

  Lucy turned back to see the attendant holding a five-dollar bill in her direction. She took it and looked back to the runaways. The attendant looked there as well.

  “Hey!” he called out, suddenly angry. “What’d I tell you kids? Get away from there!”

  Reluctantly, the boys backed away from the dumpster. Grumbling, the attendant walked back to the office, his eyes never leaving the runaways.

  “Sam.” Lucy handed the five dollar bill to her son and pointed to the emaciated teenagers. “Tell them to get something to eat.”

  Sam stared at the money in his hand. “I thought we were poor.”

  Lucy smiled and shook her head. “Not that poor. Go on, now.”

  Sam chased after the runaways. Lucy started back toward the driver’s seat. She saw Michael standing by the office door, talking to the attendant. Michael asked the attendant if he knew of any jobs around.

  “Nothing legal,” was the attendant’s response.

  Michael thanked the older man and trotted back toward the U-Haul. He nodded to his mother.

  “This is where I get off.”

  He jumped on the trailer and quickly untied a pair of ropes to free his motorbike, then retied the ropes to secure the rest of their belongings. It was amazing, Lucy thought, how efficient her son could be when he really wanted to be. He lowered the trailer’s sliding ramp to the ground and walked the bike down to the pavement.

  “Still mad at me?” Lucy asked.

  “For what?” Michael replied. He wiped his shaggy brown hair from his eyes and looked up from his most prized possession.

  Lucy shrugged. “For everything.”

  Michael frowned and got on his bike. Lucy was immediately sorry she had said anything. Her son was only a teenager, after all. He put up a brave front, but he had a lot of trouble dealing with his emotions. And Lucy was sure that this whole divorce thing hadn’t made it any easier on him.

  “Michael?” she added before her son could leave. “If you want some time on your own, you can meet us later. It’s okay.”

  Sam chose this moment to return, his sneakers pumping across the asphalt.

  “What?” Sam somehow managed to sound mortally wounded. “He can and I can't? No fair!”

  Oh, dear. Lucy could feel a fight brewing. Sibling rivalry rears its ugly head. How was she going to get out of this one?

  “That’s okay, Mom.” Michael shook his head. “I’ll follow you and help you unload.”

  Lucy smiled. Wonderful, wonderful Michael! He was more responsible than she gave him credit for. She wondered what she should say to him, to let him know how much his helping out meant to her. Michael smiled at her for a second, then glanced down at his bike. She decided to say nothing at all. She would end up embarrassing him all over again.

  “Come on, Sam,” she said instead. “Let’s get in the car."

  She opened the door on the driver’s side as Sam pushed in again next to Nanook. She saw someone wave as she climbed into the driver’s seat. She looked up to see the two skinny teenagers. One of them clutched the five-dollar bill in a grimy hand.

  “Hey, thanks, lady!” he called.

  “Use some of it to call home!” she shouted back. This just went to show her, she thought. She should be content that her two boys were still with her, both of them reasonably happy and well dressed.

  Sam frowned as he glanced in the rearview mirror, running a hand through his very recently cut hair. Maybe, Lucy thought, one of my sons is too well dressed. She slammed the door and turned the key in the ignition. The Land Rover started with an awesome roar.

  She glanced at Sam as she put the Rover in gear. “Those kids look like me twenty years ago.”

  Sam looked at her noncommittally.

  “When you ran away from home, hitchhiked to Berkeley, spent the night in Golden Gate Park, and begged for spare change in the morning?”

  “Oh,” Lucy replied. “So you’ve heard this story before?”

  Sam nodded sagely. “So many times, I’m starting to think it happened to me.”

  Maybe, Lucy thought, it was time she just shut up and drove. They’d get to her father’s house in a moment. Then they could all settle back and relax.

  And after that they could worry about just what they were going to do with the rest of their lives.

  Three

  They were here at last. At least he thought this had to be his grandfather's house.

  Michael couldn’t remember the last time they had been here. He guessed he’d been pretty young at the time. His father and grandfather hadn’t exactly gotten along. In fact, the last time the two of them had seen each other had been Grandmother’s funeral. Michael didn’t remember that very well, either, but he did remember his mother’s story about how the two men had almost gotten into a fistfight at Grandmother’s graveside.

  There had been the occasional phone call and a few brief visits in the last couple of years, but neither Michael nor Sam really knew their grandfather very well. Still, from what he had heard about the old man, this place they were driving toward suited him.

  First off, the place was out of the way. Michael had followed his mother’s Land Rover on his motorbike, all the way through town along the beach highway. They had turned off at last on this long, winding road bordered on either side by pine trees. It was so different from the town; just a turn in the road and they went from bright, noisy action to cool, quiet shade. It was all a little weird, really. It was hard for Michael to believe that there could be a place like this in Santa Carla.

  They had pulled into the driveway of a house that certainly fit the neighborhood. Actually Grandpa’s place wasn’t exactly a house, at least, not like they had houses back in Phoenix. Oh, it was plenty big enough. It just looked a little rough around the edges, like somebody had crossed a log cabin with one of those big, sprawling places you always saw in horror movies. Michael wondered if it looked that strange inside.

  There was somebody lying on the front porch, actually lying there, right on the floor. Michael pulled his bike up next to the Land Rover. He flipped down the kickstand and went to stand next to his mother and brother, who were staring up at the man on the porch. The man hadn’t moved since they’d arrived.

  “Grandpa?” Sam asked in a hushed voice. r />
  Their mother nodded, and whispered, “Must be asleep.”

  The three of them approached Grandpa as quietly as they could.

  He wasn’t dressed the way Michael remembered him, dark suit, tie, sort of like his father, only older. Now Grandpa wore jeans and a work shirt. He had Indian moccasins on his feet, the kind with all the multicolored beads, and what white hair he had left was tied behind his head in a braid.

  Michael led the way up the stairs. Grandpa still didn’t move. Michael stopped, just short of where the old man lay.

  “He looks dead,” Michael said after a moment’s pause.

  His mother dismissed his observation with a wave of her hands. “He’s just a deep sleeper.”

  Michael pointed at Grandpa’s face. “He’s not breathing, Mom.”

  Mother frowned and stepped forward, placing her palm on the still man’s forehead. Sam walked up beside her.

  “If he’s dead,” Sam asked, “can we move back to Phoenix?”

  Then Grandpa opened his eyes. Michael took a step back. He heard his mother make a little noise in her throat.

  Grandpa smiled.

  “Playin’ dead,” he remarked. "And from what I heard, doin’ a damn good job of it too.”

  The old man sat up, and their mother leaned forward to hug him. Michael turned to look at Sam. From his brother's expression he could tell Sam felt pretty much the same way about what was going on.

  Weird. And it was getting weirder every minute.

  Their mother smiled back at the two of them.

  “Well,” she said brightly, “why don’t you boys go unload the truck and we’ll get settled in?”

  Settled in? Michael glanced at his brother a final time. Well, there was no helping it. The two condemned boys walked down the stairs to obey their mother’s orders. Michael grabbed his barbells from the back comer of the trailer and carried them glumly through the front door.

  Once he walked inside the house, he decided he might want to change his mind. The place sprawled out every which way. It would probably take them half an hour to explore it. But the living room was great, filled with old, comfortable, leather-covered couches, with Indian blankets on the floor and all sorts of wild pictures on the wall. There was a huge fireplace in the middle of the room and two staircases on either side that led to a balcony above. Plus, just in front of the fireplace, staring right at Michael, was a stuffed mountain lion.

  Sam struggled past him, his arms laden with one of the incredibly heavy boxes that contained a mere portion of his massive comic book collection.

  “This is kind of a cool place,” Michael remarked.

  Sam grunted as he placed his burden on the floor. He stared at the mountain lion.

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “For the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

  Michael gave his brother what he hoped was a withering look. “Come on. Will you give Mom a break?”

  It was time to get rid of his own burden. Michael hefted the barbells he was carrying and headed through the kitchen toward the porch. Sam followed right behind him.

  Michael pushed open the back door with his weights. Sam brought up the rear, letting the screen door slam after him. Michael looked out at the backyard as he pumped the weights a couple of times. You couldn’t see anybody else’s house out here. It was like they were all alone, miles and miles away from civilization.

  Sam pointed back at the house.

  “What’s wrong with this picture?” he asked.

  Michael shrugged, then pumped again.

  “No TV,” his brother informed him. “Have you seen a TV?” Sam frowned. “No TV means no MTV.”

  Michael put down the weights at last and looked straight at his brother.

  “Hey, Sam, we are flat broke.”

  His brother’s eyes widened, as if only now did he realize the true horror of his situation.

  “Even poor people have TVs,” he said at last.

  Nanook couldn’t stop barking. He was probably the happiest dog in the universe, Lucy thought. There was a field full of horses just behind her father’s yard. Nanook had decided he liked the horses and was more than happy to tell the world about it.

  Her father had crawled into the U-Haul and was passing boxes and odds and ends out to Lucy. She marveled at how spry he had managed to stay. But then, she marveled at a lot of things about her father. Understanding had never been a strong suit between them. She wasn’t even sure they still knew how to talk to each other. Heaven knew they hadn’t done much talking so far. Still, Lucy knew that sooner or later her father would get around to saying what was on his mind.

  He grunted as he handed her a framed picture. From the look on his face Lucy could tell he didn’t much approve of

  Ihr modernistic subject matter; cubes within cubes within
  “Lucy,” he said as he dismounted the trailer to stand next to her, “you’re the only woman I ever knew who didn't improve her situation by getting divorced.”

  So here it was. The Divorce Discussion Well, she had irhcarsed this one in her head a long time before she’d gotten here.

  “Oh, Dad. A big legal war wasn’t going to improve anybody's situation. We’ve all been through enough.” I hat was the rehearsed part. On impulse she hugged him.

  “Besides,” she added, “I was raised better than lhat.”

  “Ouch!” he yelled. “My hair!”

  Lucy laughed when she realized her hug had caught his braid. She gently freed the long strand of hair from her Krip

  "Look at you,” she said with a smile. “When I dressed like that, you threw me out of the house.” She sighed. "I used to hate your short hair and your uptight suits. Then I went ahead and married one.” She shook her head. "Now look at you. We’re still out of synch.”

  Her father laughed. “Well, maybe we can work on it a little.” He grabbed the framed picture and started to carry it to the house.

  Lucy watched him as he disappeared through the front door. Maybe this time they could really work on it, after all.

  This looked like the best room in the place. Michael steered the sheets and blankets he held through the narrow doorway.

  Sam was already in there, stacking comic books on the shelves.

  “What have you got there?” his brother demanded. “Flannel sheets? Oh, boy!” He rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling. “I knew something around here would cheer me up!”

  Michael decided to ignore his brother’s sarcasm. He laid the bedclothes on the bed. This place was big, and close to the stairs and the bathroom, and it had a great view of the backyard. He liked this room even more now, much too much to give it up. There was only one way to handle this situation.

  “This room is mine,” he said simply.

  Sam turned around and spread out his arms, as if to protect his comic collection.

  “I was here first!”

  Michael nodded. There was also only one way to handle younger brothers.

  “Okay,” he said calmly. “I’ll flip you for it.”

  Sam glared back at Michael, but he didn’t speak. He knew as well as Michael that older brothers usually win out in the end. But Sam also knew that Michael’s offer was his only chance.

  “Okay,” Sam said slowly, as if he had to drag the two syllables from his lungs.

  Michael laughed, grabbed Sam, and flipped him upside down. This will show the little bugger! Thinking of Sam as a bugger made him laugh even harder.

  Michael gasped as white-hot pain shot through his body. He looked down to see Sam biting his thigh.

  “Owww!” Michael pushed Sam away with what energy he had left. “You little shit!”

  Sam was up and running as soon as his brother had let him go. Michael stood up, wi
ncing at the pain. The little bugger wasn’t going to get away with this! Michael ran out the door and down the stairs in hot pursuit.

  “Help me, Mom!” Sam screamed. “Help!”

  They were running down the back staircase. Their mother was walking up the staircase in front, a box in her hands. She nodded pleasantly to Sam.

  “Soon,” was all she said.

  Sam ran into the living room. Michael couldn’t help but smile. There was no way his brother could get by him now. Justice would be served at last.

  Sam turned and started clawing at what Michael had first thought was a wall. But no, when he looked at their outline beneath the ceiling, Michael realized they were large sliding doors! With a gasp of triumph Sam tore one of them open and ran into the next room. Michael ran close behind him.

  He took one step into the room and stopped dead.

  Four

  A thousand eyes stared down at them.

  Both Michael and Sam looked cautiously around the room, their fight forgotten.

  An owl glared at them from above the double doors. Next to it was a squirrel and a raccoon. On the shelf next to the door stood a cardinal, a crow, and a big gray tomcat.

  It took Michael a minute to realize that this crowd of unmoving, staring beasts wasn’t alive. They weren’t moving because all of them were stuffed. Michael reached out and stroked the back of a nearby skunk. On other shelves were piles of pelts and wooden forms in the shapes of various animals. And there were boxes, lots and lots of boxes.

  Sam pulled down a shoe box from a nearby shelf. It was full of eyes, glass eyes, some very small, others larger than those in Sam’s head. Sam hastily returned the box to its resting place.

  “Rules!”

  The shout came from behind them. Sam and Michael jumped as one. They turned around as quickly as they could. Grandpa stood behind them.

  “Got some rules around here,” Grandpa remarked. He waved for the two of them to follow him. Sam and Michael glanced at each other, then trailed after their grandfather into the kitchen.