Broken Things Read online

  Still further they drove, until his father found a dirt road barely visible among the overgrowth and trees. The road, if it even qualified as one, twisted and turned wildly, and branches scraped against the vehicle causing his father to mutter curses under his breath. His father didn’t curse that often, and it made the boy smile as much as it made his mother frown in disapproval. They drove slower now, as every few feet bumps in the road jostled the vehicle roughly, and Josh hung on in fear of getting smacked into the window.

  White aspens were thicker here than the pines or fir, covering the mountains in green and white. This road hugged the side of a mountain, and if his father were to but drift a few more feet to the right, their rig would tumble hundreds of feet down the side of the slope. The thought made his stomach clench, but he continued to stare anyway. Maybe some of the trees would stop them.

  Finally the road dropped down once more, bringing the family to the river and a small clearing with just enough room for their vehicle and the tent. Off in the shade of a large tree a rickety picnic table looked forlorn and forgotten next to an empty fire pit. Josh leaped out before they’d come to a complete stop.

  “Josh!” His mother hollered after him.

  He ran a few feet away and stopped, staring up at the trees. They stretched far above him to form a canopy of branches and leaves. His senses were assailed on all sides by nature. The air smelled different, of water and plants and trees and dirt, not of car exhaust and whatever else the city smelled like. And the noise! The wind rustled the leaves in a constant symphony harmonizing with the steady melody of the river. Some kind of bird or bug chirped a chorus over the top of it all. He couldn’t hear any traffic, and he realized how truly far they’d come. Finally they were letting him do something fun for the summer.

  “What time is it, dad?” he asked as his father slammed his door shut.

  His dad didn’t bother looking at his watch. He rarely did but had an uncanny gift of telling time. “A little after one. What do you think of this place?”

  “It’s perfect!” Josh tossed his head toward the river, flipping his straggly brown hair out of his eyes at the same time. “Can I check out the water?”

  His father smiled and nodded. “Go ahead. Don’t fall in.”

  Josh dashed away, headless of his mother again calling after him. The foliage grew thick along the river but once past that, it opened to a rocky beach. The river looked wide, and though deep, he imagined that he could wade across it without too much trouble, maybe if he found a good walking stick to use as support.

  He crouched down on the pebbly beach and shuffled through the rocks until he’d gathered a fairly decent pile of skipping stones. He couldn’t believe that after three years he’d only just talked his parents into this trip. He planted himself in a sandy patch and launched the first stone across the river. The water flowed too rapidly to skip anything too good, but a deep spot provided just enough smooth water that he pulled off a few good skips. Sometimes he’d attempt to drop a larger rock onto the horde of water skippers that gathered near the bank.

  He had a fairly full itinerary. He’d have to really push to get in everything that he intended to do. Before they’d left, he’d made a list on a sheet of notebook paper, which inadvertently he’d left behind. Still, he could remember most of it.

  Obviously he’d demanded a campsite with a river. They told him he couldn’t swim in it, but they’d packed his swimming trunks anyway. They probably expected him to splash at the bank like some little kid, but he knew they had no intention of watching him the entire time. He stuck his fingers in the water, the heat of the summer sun didn’t seem to warm it at all. He’d have to just dive in later. There were supposed to be fish in the river too, and his father had packed a fishing pole. He suspected that his father hadn’t been fishing in a hundred years and possibly wouldn’t be doing much teaching.

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

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

  How would it be to not go back at all?

  8

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

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

  “Do you think we brought him enough?”

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

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

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

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

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

  “What if he suffers?”

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

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

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

  “Won’t he be scared?”

  “Josh? No, he doesn’t get scared.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Do you want to say goodbye?”

  “No. I don’t think I can.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  9

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “When are you coming back?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Stop calling me that!”

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

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

  10

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

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

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

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

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

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

  If one were back, could there be more?

  Part 2

  1

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

  But they didn’t.

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

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

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

  That was it, they’d be back.

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