All Things Must Piss

Chapter 7 of Carnival

Carnival

Chapter 7

All Things Must Piss

When Kevin opened his eyes the sun was already high in the sky, the air sizzling. His breath seared the walls of his nostrils, his mouth tasted of dirt and blood. He sat up slowly, totally disoriented, and gingerly picked his vest free of a thorny shrub.

On the ground by his knee lay a withered gray workman’s glove, its torn palm and fingers stained with axle grease. Kevin groaned and picked it up, but dropped it immediately as a small green lizard leaped out and vanished in the undergrowth. The boy looked around groggily, his neck taut and sore. Nothing for miles but dry, colorless shrubbery.

He stood and squirmed free of the vest, draped it over his shoulder, and began shambling about like a hopeless castaway. There was no real shade to speak of; trees were stunted, branches peppered with blanched, furling, brittle leaves. He recalled tales of innocent folks trapped in similar Hells, wandering in circles, sucking on rocks while staggering aimlessly, until the cruel sun pounded them into twisted heaps of scaly red garbage for the carrion birds.

A distant voice was calling his name. He called back, his own voice a painful croak. Mike and Eddie began shouting his name in unison, like a chant, until Kevin stumbled up, miserable and exhausted. He sucked Mike’s canteen dry when they reached camp.

“Got chased by The Hook,” he gasped. “Right behi…he was right behi…he was right behind me.”

Eddie’s eyes ballooned in their sockets. “You too? He chased me for miles last night.”

They blinked back and forth; each boy a mirror image of scrapes and scratches, of dirt and dust, of tangled hair clotted with burrs and twigs and bits of leaves.

And Mike was roaring with laughter.

Kevin looked his body up and down.

His Levis were torn in a dozen new places, his feet leprous with scabs. Puffs of dust accompanied his every movement. He limped over to his sleeping bag and flopped down, rolled a joint, gently stepped into his boots. He lit the joint, slurped smoke up his silly face, and said, simply:

“Let’s go.”

joon 30 1967

jime

thu milz pas lik majik onle 30 mor 2 go an wel b in santu mureu an thn its onle 50 2 san loois obispo wich iz wut we figyr 2 b thu hafwa poynt

nawt bad 4 3 daz ridn

akchoole frum san loois obispo awn its uh lawt mor fr an uh hek uv uh lawt mor rugud but at thu r8 wr goen wel hav uh kupl uv daz 2 chek owt thu h8 sen b4 we dig thu big gig

az uzooul nuthen but good vibz

iv bin metn uh lawt uv groov ppl awn thu rod an tripn with thu chix hoo r awl bilt 2 thu hilt an hawt 2 trawt

mi bix bin holdn up lik uh rel champ jime lik it kood mak it kler ukraws thu kuntre

edz iz dooen ok 2 but this mornen aftr we gawt in2 lawmpawk mix bik rele hasld him

u no that bolt wut keps thu handulbrz std awn uh 10spd

wl thu nut kam loos awn mix bik wn he wuz ridn an he flipd hdfrst ovr thu frunt wel an praktikle skrapd hiz fas awf but hez ok jus soopr growche

wl thats awl 4 now jime hop yr lagz btr an awl that

tl awl mi budz i sd hi

rit u soon

kevn

“I can’t wait to get back to the coast,” Eddie shivered. “These flyboys are giving me the total creeps.”

Another jeep full of enlisted men from Vandenberg Air Force base was slowing down. One of those young men blew Kevin a very wet kiss, another showed the boys a limp wrist and pouting lips.

“Hey…sweetheart!” the driver called to Eddie. “Why don’t you introduce me to your girlfriend (meaning Kevin) there? Does she like it from the front or the rear?” The others roared with laughter.

“Just you try it,” Kevin mumbled, “and I’m gonna kick your asses all over your faces.”

“What’s that, honey?” a voice shot. “What’d you say, hot lips?”

The jeep stopped at the curb. The driver snarled, “Want some Free Love, butterball? Huh? How about eight inches of hot O’Henry? Think you can handle it all?”

And from the rear seat, another voice: “Don’t you trolls ever take a bath?”

“Mind your own f*****g business,” Mike said, too grumpy to keep his mouth shut for long. His face was scarlet with Mercurochrome in a dozen places. An extra large bandage covered the scrape on his nose.

“What was that?” cried one of the men. He made to step out.

The boys cowered. Just then another jeep, this one containing a major general driven by his orderly, pulled alongside the first.

“You men move along there,” the officer said tersely.

The men in the jeep immediately pulled away.

The major general, a stocky white-haired man with heavy jowls, looked at the boys curiously through the thick lenses of his severe spectacles. His stare went on and on, growing darker by the moment. At last he said, “Harrumph”, looking as though he’d just swallowed something bitter and indigestible. He spoke sotto voce to his orderly, and together they laughed uproariously. Both stared back at Kevin, who was limply gaping at the twin flash of the general’s stars. The orderly put the jeep in gear and drove away, his passenger craning his head over his shoulder to study the boys as if they were extraterrestrials.

“I mean it!” Eddie said. “I want out of here!”

They were in the town of Orcutt. It was three in the afternoon. The boys followed the highway grimly, keeping as far into the road’s shoulder as possible. Convoys of jeeps and flatbed trucks from the nearby base were thick on the road, and from nearly all came derisive shouts. By five o’clock they had only covered fifteen miles, as they had to constantly pull over to avoid clouds of dust and flying gravel. Several jeeps deliberately swerved close. Not until seven o’clock did the hellish flow abate somewhat, and by then they were dusty, dehydrated, and dog-tired.

Much of the area was given over to depleted farmland, now mostly fields of withered weeds. Several dirt roads led off the highway, winding between ancient sycamores and dry rock gullies. Few of the decrepit houses appeared occupied, and, as twilight advanced, the dwellings grew dark and haunted-looking, the windows black and forbidding. The boys took a few of these unfrequented old roads out of curiosity, shattered windows in the deserted, looming houses, battled one another with clods of dirt. It was as they were firing rocks at rusty cans alongside one of these dirt roads that they became aware of a vehicle slowly bouncing their way, its headlights cutting uneven swaths in the crepuscular distance. Eddie, Mike, and Kevin stood stock-still, human scarecrows; one tiny, one scrawny, one fat--something in the low rattle of the engine striking them as ominous and probing. When the vehicle neared they saw it was an Air Force jeep.

“Down!” Mike said, too late. The jeep bumped to a stop, not twenty feet opposite where they lay.

“Well, well,” drawled a familiar voice, “yes indeedy deedy-do. If it ain’t them same three ripe sweethearts, and just when I’m feeling all hot and horny.” Somebody belched. A beer can dropped from the jeep and rolled away clattering.

The boys rose slowly. Eddie was trembling. “Please, sir,” he whimpered, “please don’t hurt us. We don’t want any trouble.”

“S**t,” Mike said, looking disgustedly at his friend’s cowering form. He addressed the six young men in the jeep straightforwardly. “Why don’t you pricks just beat it. Scram.”

There was laughter in the jeep. It was fully dark now, and the young occupants were huge and featureless. The hot engine ticked impatiently.

“Why, that’s no way for a presentable young thing to talk,” said a blur on the back seat. “Especially when she’s just about to get her sweet little hippie a*s kicked.”

Another shape growled, “Why don’t you kids ever get a haircut?” Although the delivery was full of rancor, this was a legitimate question.

“Oh, yes sir,” Kevin said quickly. “We’ll get haircuts, all of us. Right away.”

“My a*s,” Mike spat. He stooped, grabbed a fist-sized rock from their arsenal, and hurled it just as hard as he could at the jeep. In amazing slow motion the windshield cracked, spiderwebbed, and disintegrated. Before the men could recover, the boys had hopped on their bikes and were tearing across the field toward a row of abandoned houses. The jeep’s transmission bit into high gear. A correction in the shifting, and the jeep was in hot pursuit. Kevin felt its headlight beams scorching his back as he desperately drove himself on. On one side Eddie was retching and sobbing, and on the other Mike was shouting instructions they were way too terrified to heed. Just as the jeep was upon them its rear wheels caught in a ditch. A whining roar, and the chase was resumed.

“Over here!” Mike screamed. They followed him to a gully’s edge, over the lip and down. The gully was deeper than it looked; all three lost control of their bicycles and plummeted to the bed.

“My elbow!” Eddie cried, staggering to his feet and holding his hurt arm to his side.

“My neck!” Mike swore, dragging his bike up the opposite side.

“My God!” Kevin gasped, for the jeep had come to a halt above them, and at least three of the young men were scrambling down with cries of rage and bloodlust. Kevin pushed his bicycle up the other side after his friends, nearly bowling over bawling Eddie in his haste.

It was a close scrape. The young servicemen ran hard, one on each frantically pedaling boy. Eddie’s pursuer turned his ankle. Another stopped to assist, but the one chasing Kevin, as usual in the rear, kept after him, puffing and cursing, managing one solid punch to the right kidney.

The boys didn’t even look back for five minutes, straining themselves to the very limit of their endurance, finally pulling their dusty bikes onto the porch of a sprawling, dilapidated two-story in the midst of a dozen drooping willows.

“Why,” Kevin moaned, collapsing on the creaking old porch, “why’d you have to guide us down that stupid ditch, anyway?”

“Well, it was better than getting caught, wasn’t it?” Mike panted. “Those guys are crazy or drunk or both. Besides, I didn’t hear any better ideas.” He turned on Eddie, still blubbering. “Oh, for Christ’s sake shut up, will you?” He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. “They woulda…they woulda killed us if they woulda caught us.”

“I’m not crying,” Eddie sobbed, wiping his eyes. He buried his face in his hands and wept convulsively. “I’m not!”

Kevin got to his feet and eyed the old house with a shudder. “Maybe we should get inside under cover.”

This was no problem for Mike. The boy kicked and kicked the door until the rusted old nails gave an inch, then tore a thick slat from the rotted porch railing and used this, with Kevin’s assistance, to pry the door open a few more inches. One good solid kick from Kevin’s sturdy boot opened the door another foot. They pushed to make enough space for their bikes.

Eddie hesitated, sniffling. “I don’t like the looks of this place, you guys.”

“Oh, c’mon, Eddie,” Mike said soothingly. “We can be the Hardy Boys again. Just like we used to play, remember?”

But Eddie still lingered. “I’m too old to play Hardy Boys.”

Mike sneered. “But you’re not too old to play Flower Child, is that it? S**t. What a pantywaist.” He edged in carefully.

Kevin shrugged sympathetically. He dug out another box of matches, pushed Mike’s bicycle in, then his own, and finally Eddie’s. “Hurry up!” Mike hissed, as though afraid of disturbing an unseen occupant.

“This is--this is Trespassing,” Eddie whispered, holding onto Kevin’s vest as he squeezed in behind.

“No, it’s worse than that,” muttered Kevin. “It’s Breaking And Entering.”

Mike scowled. “Sure beats Staying Outside And Getting The S**t Kicked Out Of You.” He laughed harshly, testing his own reserves of courage. The laugh rang through the large front room and echoed faintly off the adjacent dining room walls.

Kevin struck a match, revealing mainly blank walls and dusty floorboards. The sputtering light threw long black jittery shadows off a few sticks of furniture. “Spooky,” he whispered. “I’ll bet it’s haunted.”

Mike whirled on them, shouted “Boo!” and roared with laughter when they jumped. Eddie peeked from behind Kevin’s elbow, still tightly gripping the vest. His teeth were chattering, his knees knocking. “Th-that’s not funny, M-Mike,” he whined, eyes wide and fearful. “D-don’t do that again, okay? I’m not scared, j-just a little j-jumpy from that ch-chase.”

“Okay, Eddie,” Mike said, his voice rumbling low. “I was only goofing around. C’mon.” He led the way into the dining room. The remains of a crystal chandelier caught and scattered the light of another of Kevin’s matches. The windows in this room, as in the front room, were boarded over. “I’ll bet this place is haunted,” Mike said. “It smells like somebody died in here and…BOO!”

This time Eddie gave a little shriek when he jumped. Now Kevin’s teeth were chattering too. “Really, Mike,” he said. “Don’t be such an a*****e.”

“Aww…you guys are just p*****s, that’s all.” Mike threw back his head and guffawed. He kicked a wine bottle across the floor to illustrate his disgust and disappointment. The bottle rolled, clattering loudly, against a pile of fetid garbage next to an oblong closet. Kevin lit a match in time to reveal a couple of large brown rats scurrying from the pile with agitated squeals. The rats cornered themselves against the cabinets below the pantry before vanishing into the woodwork.

Eddie shuddered. “Mice,” he said in an oddly stifled voice. “Big mice.”

Following the wall farthest from the pantry, they edged from the dining room into the spacious kitchen. Here it was much lighter, as the boards over a window had been knocked out by a previous explorer. Moonlight shone in sepulchrally, illuminating piles upon piles of trash and splintered wood. Kevin, instinctively stepping to the window, peered out at the stars for comfort.

“Let’s crash here!” Mike suggested, with the air of a decision already made. “It’s warm and cozy and safe.”

“Brrr,” said Eddie. “And full of big hungry mice.”

“Aw, what are you so darn--”

“Shush!” Kevin said. He crouched with his fingertips on the shattered sill, peeking out intently.

“What--what’s the matter?” Eddie whispered, all ready to break into tears.

“Bats in his belfry,” was Mike’s instant diagnosis. When Kevin didn’t respond, Mike sobered and cautiously crept up behind him, knelt to look over his shoulder. After a minute Eddie tiptoed over anxiously.

“What is it?” Mike hissed.

“I dunno,” Kevin’s reply was almost inaudible. “Something…” He strained his eyes until they burned with the effort. What was out there? A mountain lion? A stealthily padding ghost? In the coiling silence they all heard it: a throaty rumbling…the sound of something heavy rolling along slowly…the crunching of small pebbles…excited whispering.

“It’s those flyboys!” Mike sputtered under his breath, solving the mystery with uncanny rapidity. “That’s their jeep rolling up in low gear. They’re driving with the lights off.”

“I wanna go home!” Eddie gurgled, the pitch of his voice rising alarmingly.

Mike turned quickly and placed a forefinger to his lips.

“Me too,” Kevin said. He couldn’t bear to look. “What are they doing now, Mike? Are they gonna pass us by?”

Mike had excellent night vision. “Couple of ’em are out on the ground,” he reported. “It looks like they’re following our tire tracks. Now one of ’em’s got a flashlight. He’s shining it on the ground. The light’s swinging…toward the porch. Oh my God! Did anybody shut the front door?”

“I wanna go home!” Eddie whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Now he’s shining the flashlight all around the house. He’s pointing it at the--GET DOWN!” They crouched in a huddle as a beam of light lanced over their heads for an instant, played on the kitchen wall and vanished. There came a sibilant undercurrent…voices were whispering excitedly. The beam swung back to the kitchen window and remained there. The gentle thrumming of the jeep’s engine was cut off abruptly.

Mike whispered, “We’re cooked!” They got on their bellies and scurried to a doorway leading to the rear of the house, where they were presented with a choice of three rooms. With wordless consent they split up; Mike wiggling into a bedroom, Eddie choosing the playroom, Kevin making quietly for a jumble of rubbish in the laundry room. A door led outside, and Kevin was thinking of trying the knob when an instinct made him freeze. Listening intently, he made out footsteps crunching outside, quietly rounding the side of the house, proceeding toward the door. Kevin froze on all fours, head cocked, not breathing. There was a gentle rustling in the playroom as Eddie burrowed beneath a heap of moldy wallpaper. Then utter silence.

Finally the doorknob rattled slightly and turned a few degrees. But that was all. The lock’s mechanism was rigid with rust. After a moment the footsteps crunched back around the house. Now there were voices at the front door. Kevin crawled to the pile in the corner and wormed behind a leaning infant’s mattress stinking of old urine stains. He quietly pulled more trash over his legs just as the house echoed with an agonizing groan of bending nails: the front door was being forced wider. There was another interval of silence, but the boys could feel someone stepping lightly into the front room.

“Yoo-hoo…” a voice cooed musically. “Anybody home?”

More silence. A soft creaking of floorboards.

“Why, would you looky here,” marveled a different voice. “Three ten-speeds, just sitting here. Real nice bikes they are, too. Now I wonder who they might belong to.” The whirring of a gear sprocket. Kevin’s right hand, searching the floor for some kind of weapon, came up with a rusty trowel, its nose bent upward. He tensed.

Someone was in the dining room. The first voice called out softly, as though to a child, “Come out, come out, whatever you are.” A crunching of trash underfoot. Then a full minute of absolute silence. Without any warning Kevin’s little mattress was yanked away, revealing a black, towering form. “Ah-ha!”

Kevin sprang up with all his force, slashed wildly at the black figure’s head, felt the trowel rip into flesh, heard a scream almost in his ear. He stumbled through the doorway into the kitchen. A different man made to grab him. The boy sidestepped and slashed off-balance, missed and dived out the window straight into the arms of two others. They threw him down and held him down. As he struggled to his knees he was kicked solidly in the ribs. Kevin doubled over. His glasses were torn from his face. One of the young men yanked back his hat and grabbed a handful of hair while the other twisted an arm behind his back. They dragged, kicked, and wrestled him to one of the willows. Each took an arm and pinned him against the tree, surprised at his strength.

A scraping sound at the kitchen window was followed by a dark form dropping to the ground, its left cheek sliced open and dripping blood. The shadow removed an Air Force shirt and held a lapel to the cheek. The lapel was instantly sopping. As the wincing form turned, it became recognizable as the jeep’s driver. This man pulled the shirt away, studied the stains, and held a clean sleeve to the wound. After glaring at Kevin he walked over calmly and slapped him across the face as hard as he could.

Kevin gasped as he struggled. A hard backhand caught him across the other cheek. The assailant grabbed his hair, yanked his head up viciously, and pressed his face up close. The voice was frighteningly calm, almost understanding.

“Pretty quick with the blade, aren’t you, fat boy? Well, I can be too!” He turned his head. “Johnny! Where’s those shears?”

Johnny, a tall, gaunt, crew-cut blond, came padding up like a called dog. “Right here, Danny boy. You gonna clip this poodle?”

“That’s right.”

“Hot damn!”

At this Kevin began struggling fiercely, but a hard fist from Johnny caught him in the solar plexus. Kevin hawked and doubled over again, the fight out of him.

Johnny was grinning wildly, nursing his fist with his left hand. Danny, still holding Kevin by the hair, yanked his head back up with even greater force. He jerked Kevin’s head left and right, snipping off large clumps on either side of his fist.

“Cut off his balls,” suggested one of the men holding Kevin’s arms. “If he’s got any.” He giggled insanely.

“You know something, Hank?” Danny commented in that same mellifluous tone, “sometimes that ugly thinker of yours comes up with some right dandy ideas.” Danny grabbed Kevin’s Levis at the waist and tore them open. Kevin screamed.

That scream was immediately followed by a delighted shout from the window. Another serviceman came forward, dragging Mike and Eddie by the scruffs of their necks, one in either hand. Eddie, wailing hysterically, put up no resistance, the toes of his shoes plowing grooves in the dirt as he was hauled along, limp as a bit of washing. But Mike was flailing his arms and spitting like a cat. “Found these two girlies trying to hide,” puffed the newcomer. “What you want me to do with ’em, Danny boy?”

Danny looked regretfully at Kevin and dropped the shears. He casually walked over to check out the latest development.

“My, my,” he said. “Well, well.” Mike spat in his face. Danny stepped back and all the young men laughed a nervous laugh. “Feisty son of a b***h, aren’t you? You shouldn’t have done that, little man. No sir, that was not wise at all.” He wiped the saliva from his face, snapped his fingers, and barked, “Johnny! C’m’ere!” His eyes never left Mike, who seemed determined to stare him down. “But since you done it, little wise a*s, I’m gonna hand you over to Johnny here. Now, Johnny’s a real weirdo, you dig?” He twirled a finger by his temple. “Something missing upstairs. Don’t know why the Air Force even accepted the guy; guess they’re as crazy as he is. That right, Johnny?”

Johnny laughed harshly. “Guess that’s right, Danny boy. Guess so.” He grinned and cracked his knuckles.

Mike spat in Danny’s face again. This time Danny didn’t wipe. He said, quietly, “He’s all yours, Johnny.”

But as Mike was being transferred he kicked out hard, connected with Johnny’s groin, and broke away. He bounded off like a jackrabbit. The kick phased the big blond for only a moment, then Danny shot, “Johnny! Get him!”

Johnny snarled and began jogging with long, measured strides.

Danny watched until Johnny was swallowed by darkness, then turned to face little Eddie, who quailed and sobbed traumatically. “Now, now,” Danny said soothingly, “what’s all the tears for, sweetheart?” Eddie withered beneath the big assailant’s consoling tone, shaking violently from head to toe. Danny placed a gentle hand on top of Eddie’s head, and the boy shrank further, his knees buckling. Eddie turned away, wincing through his tears.

“No need to cry, little one,” Danny cooed. “There’s no reason to be afraid. Not if you’re a good boy. You are a good boy, aren’t you? You won’t make the mistake your friend made now, will you?”

“No sir,” Eddie sobbed. “Oh no, only please--”

“Hush, hush, little one,” Danny breathed. “Shh, shh. Shhhhh.” Eddie fought back his tears. “There, that’s better; that’s much better. We’re going to be friends, aren’t we, little one? Aren’t we friends?”

“Yes sir,” Eddie sniveled.

“Real good friends. Real close, special friends. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes sir.”

Danny caressed and patted Eddie’s head lovingly, gripped it tightly in his big palm, pulled it toward his crotch.

Eddie squirmed with revulsion. Danny laughed explosively and grabbed a fistful of hair. He held Eddie’s head in that same demeaning position, made a motion to the man restraining Eddie, and snapped his fingers. That man now put an arm around the boy’s bent waist. His other hand fumbled with the front of Eddie’s Levis, found the snap and popped it open, roughly yanked the Levis down to Eddie’s feet. Eddie, whimpering hysterically, tried to pull free, but there was no escaping the hold. His underpants were pulled down, exposing his trembling white buttocks to the night.

“Oh hush now, hush!” Danny said sternly. “Didn’t you say we were friends? I thought you said we were friends.” He savagely twisted up Eddie’s head. Eddie froze in mortification, gritting his teeth against the pain of what he knew was to come. There was a grunt behind him. “Now, little one, we’re going to show you just how friendly we can be.”

But then the distant sound of a racing engine conveniently turned the worm. All the men stopped and looked in the sound’s direction. Almost at the same time Johnny came stumbling around the side of the house, his eyes wild. “That little f****r got away from me,” he puffed. “I couldn’t catch him. There was a cop--”

The men sprinted for their jeep. Headlights blazed up the road. Just as the jeep roared to life a police car whipped through the willows in a cloud of dust. The dust washed in like fog, dimming the scene. A spotlight played over the area, found Kevin on his hands and knees. The jeep made a skillful turn around the police car and tore off across the field with its lights off. The solitary policeman jumped out, and Mike, Boy Wonder, scampered out the passenger side. The officer looked from the boys to the fleeing airmen with indecision. He pulled out his microphone, but before he made a call shouted, “Are you all right?”

Kevin nodded weakly. The officer made his decision, a very poor one. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll call for help.” He jumped back in his car and, absurdly, flicked on his flashing lights and siren and took off in hot pursuit. The boys watched the car slowly bucking and crashing across the field, headlamp beams slashing the night in all directions as the car lurched and bounced on tortured springs.

“Let’s get out of here!” Eddie cried, zipping up his Levis. “They may come back!”

Kevin found his feet and rubbed his sore stomach. After pawing around in the dirt for a while he chanced upon his glasses, wiped the lenses with his shirt and peered through. Both lenses were intact, but his left eye was now peering through glass that was scratched and chipped. That didn’t matter. He could see again.

Eddie came flipping head over heels across the porch like a tumbleweed in a gale. He picked himself out of the dirt hastily. “Let’s go, Kevin,” he panted, wringing his hands. “Let’s hurry!” He darted back to the porch, caught his toe and skidded face-first over the wood.

Half a minute later Mike thumped off the foot-high porch on his bike, commanding, “Let’s go, Kevin!” He cocked his head, said, “Hey, you’re okay, aren’t you?” Kevin, holding his arms in front of his face, was surveying the damage to his hair with rigid fingers. He pulled the hat’s brim low on his forehead and ears.

“Yeah, yeah, I guess I’m okay.” He couldn’t mask the misery in his voice.

They heard Eddie before they saw him, calling, “Let’s go, Kevin!” Eddie flew off the porch on his bike, landing poorly. He and the bike bounced off in different directions. He picked himself up slowly this time, his face almost obscured by dust. “Let’s go!”

The police car was now about halfway across the field, still swaying and heaving. The jeep was long gone. The car’s siren was off, so they could hear its frame rattling and crashing as it lurched along.

Kevin trotted into the house and walked his bike out, breathing a sigh of relief when he found his sleeping roll intact. He wasn’t worried about the Air Force men returning; they couldn’t possibly be that foolish. But he didn’t like the idea of the police arriving and poking their snorting noses into the affair. Although quite unlikely, it was still possible they would go through his property and discover his contraband. That would bring this particularly unhappy adventure to a very nasty end.

The boys rode away hastily, diving into a ditch when a vehicle with whipping lights on its cab came roaring their way. But it was only a tow truck on its way to free the police car, stranded in the field with a busted motor mount and twisted tie rod.

“Man, was that ever neat riding in that cop car!” Mike exulted as they rode on. “Who woulda thunk it! A cop smoking dope in the middle of nowhere! We musta been doing a thousand miles an hour! Guess you guys oughta be pretty thankful old Mike came to the rescue, huh?”

“Yeah, thanks Mike,” Eddie said with all his heart. Then he was sobbing again. “They…they were gonna punk me, you guys! I just can’t believe it. Why--why were they like that? Why?”

“I’m not surprised,” Kevin said. “Brainwashed by the military. But I got that Danny dude a good one with that garden spoon. And I know it was rusty. I hope he dies.”

“Yes sir,” Mike sighed. “Good old Mike saved everybody’s a*s. That guy thought he was fast, but let me tell you, you gotta get up pretty dang early to beat me in a fair race.”

“Why?” Eddie wanted to know. “Why’d they do that to me? It was sick.”

“You got off lucky,” Kevin said bitterly. “I got scalped.” He lifted his hat.

Mike laughed so hard he almost lost control of his bike.

“Why?”

You’d expect a prick like Mike to at least feign sympathy, but he was impossible. And the nasty, triumphant grin on Mike’s face was the last thing he saw that night.

The very next thing Kevin knew, the morning sun was shining blindingly in his face.