An Incidental Reckoning (6 page)

"Thank goodness for that."

"Yeah," Will replied, and Jon felt some satisfaction at the relief echoed on his friend's face. His own desire to run bothered him more than he could admit.

"Do some more fishing today?"

"Sure. Why not? Place has been something of a disappointment. Not just because of them, but nothing to do around here but fish. I say we go somewhere else next time."

"Agreed."

They packed up their gear and left to find a stream, the mood much lighter now that the population of Ravensburg had shrunk back down to two.

Chapter 5

The weather had taken a turn. A thick blanket of clouds rolled across the sky, and without the sun to warm them, the air grew too cool for the t-shirts they wore while following the course of the stream. They had each hooked a few trout, but this time released them. The run in with the bikers still colored Jon's mood. The more he considered it, the more their behavior seemed calculated. It seemed personal. But he knew he had never seen them before, couldn't imagine beyond messing with them for fun what motive lay behind their behavior. Some people were just like that, he knew only too well.

He thought again about leaving, and not just to somewhere else but going home. They had paid for another night, but Jon was willing to lose some money for peace of mind, a bargain really. With all of Will's talk about cowardice, and coming too close to having it proved one way or another, he wanted to return and lose himself in his life where things like this didn't happen; the events of most days predictable and nothing more required except to get up, go to work, talk with Erin a little bit at dinner, read or watch TV, maybe make love and then go to sleep. He'd had enough excitement, and wanted to escape before they met a tribe of backwoods hunters with plans to make him squeal like a pig.

Driving back to the campsite, the interior of his car smelling strongly of fish and sweat, he said to Will, "What would you say to calling it a camping trip and heading back tonight?"

"I'd say you were reading my mind. I didn't want to mention it in case you thought I was afraid...but since they're gone, I guess it doesn't matter now."

"Oh, get off it, Will." He said it more sharply than intended, but the whole machismo thing had worn thin.

"I know maybe it isn't so important to you," Will said quietly, "but I want to believe that I'm still a man, and if I have to prove that, I will. If only for me. I held my ground and I think I was willing to fight if it came to that, so I'm okay for now."

"You did fine. And I think you would again, if necessary. We were kids. You need to let it go."

Will looked out the window for a little while, and then said, "I know you're right. I'm sorry for making such a big deal out of this. Hey, next year you pick the campground. I don't trust myself to decide again, at least for a while."

Jon laughed. "Yeah, you sure did good. Maybe Promised Land again?" They had camped last year at this park located in the Poconos region of Pennsylvania. Two lakes for fishing right beyond the campsite, and plenty of scenic hikes a short drive away.

"Sounds good to me. The name is fitting after this debacle."

"I'll be sure to bring some extra Pop-Tarts next time."

Jon turned into the campground, and neither of them saw the bikers until they had gotten out of the car. They were now almost directly across from them, on the far side of the loop towards the road. The small man waved, and then started walking over, carrying something in one hand.

"What the hell is going on here?"

"I don't know. But Will, I'm leaving. Nothing good is going to come from this."

"Hey guys. Didn't think you were ever coming back." The man approached, and Jon could see he carried a box of Pop-Tarts. He held them out, a wide grin on his thin face, the goatee sticking out almost parallel to the ground. "Here. Wanted to give these to you."

Jon reached out and took the box without looking at it, refusing to take his eyes off of the man.

"My name's Jim, but my friends call me Jimbo. You can too." He held out a hand to shake, and Jon stared at it for a moment and then slowly reached out and grasped it. The hand felt delicate, almost feminine, but he also sensed strength and energy, like touching the wire of an electric fence with the current turned way down but could quickly snap to life. Jimbo's eyes never left his, and their expression didn't quite match the smile. He let go quickly.

"I'm Jon, this is Will."

Will said nothing, just nodded. He had backed up, closer to the cars. Jon felt some irritation at that, all the talk about being men but twice now leaving him out front when it came down to it.

"Chris and I felt real bad about how things went before. So we bought some weenies and buns, and thought we'd come back and invite you over for dinner before we go. It was supposed to be lunch, but you guys were out for quite a while. Fishing any good?"

Jon figured he could have seen the poles in the backseat, but had the impression that they had been watched. He wanted nothing more than to get out of here, and away from this man and his silent friend.

"We're actually going home. My wife is expecting me tonight, and I won't get there before dark even if I leave now. But I appreciate the offer."

Jimbo's face fell. "Oh man. Chris is going to be disappointed. All he could talk about was how bad we behaved and wanted to make it up to you. I'm disappointed myself, but he's a sensitive guy and he'll take it hard. Sure you can't come over for just a minute?"

"Well, I don't..."

"Look, we just want to be left alone. Thanks for the offer, but my friend said no. So go ahead back over and have your dinner without us. I'm sure Chris will get over it."

Will had advanced and now stood almost at Jon's shoulder. Jim regarded him with hard eyes, and Jon steeled himself to react, sure that finally whatever purpose these men had in harassing them would be revealed. What he would do if it turned physical was anyone’s guess.

Jim put up his hands in surrender, lowered his head and took a step back. "I hear you, man. Sorry, just wanted to make things right. You drive careful tonight. And keep the pastries."

He turned around and walked back to his campsite. As Jon watched, he exchanged words with Chris and gestured towards them, and then Chris looked in their direction. Jon caught a shrug from the broad shoulders and then the big man turned his back to them. Chris didn't seem too broken up about their declining the dinner invitation.

"Let's go, Jon. I thought we might eat here, but probably smarter to pick up something on the way home. This isn't right. No one hangs out all day just to deliver a box of Pop-Tarts."

"I'm with you.”

They broke camp: took out their mattresses and deflated them, rolled up the sleeping bags, and then took down the tent, forcing it inside the storage bag that never seemed quite large enough to accommodate it. With each task completed, Jon felt a great weight slowly lifting, but one that wouldn't evaporate until he had put some miles between himself and Ravensburg.

A half hour later, the two men stood by their cars and quickly embraced.

"Promised Land. Next year. We can laugh about this next to the fire."

"Sounds good, Will. Drive careful. Make sure you give me a call when you get in. I won't feel okay until both of us are home safe."

"Sure. I'll see you."

Jon turned to get into his vehicle, when the sight of an Amish buggy driving into the campground stopped him short.

"Will, look at this."

There were two figures visible on the buckboard. One was clearly Amish, and the other clearly not. Jon recognized the young man that had passed by shortly after his arrival. His face was tight as he gripped the reigns in stiff hands. The other man, sitting next to him, very close in fact, was Jimbo. As they came abreast of Jon and Will, Jimbo smiled and raised a hand to them.

"We found another dinner guest, so I guess it all worked out for the best. In exchange for some dogs, Isaiah here is going to let us take the buggy for a spin. So long."

The buggy passed, and they watched it round the bend, and then rein in at the bikers' campsite. Chris looked up and smiled for the first time, and then approached the buggy. He said something to the boy, who ignored him. Chris reached up and cuffed him on the head. His hat fell off, and the large man picked it up and put it on his own. He then gestured for the boy to get down. The Amish boy hesitated, looked up at the sky, his lips moving, and then complied. Jim stayed in the seat, slid over and picked up the reins while the horse whinnied nervously and pawed the ground. Jim reached down for the hat, and Chris scowled but handed it over. He placed it on his head with a theatrical flourish and then tilted it forward to nearly cover his eyes.

"Yah!" Jimbo shouted, and jerked the reins. He laughed shrilly as the horse began to move. He managed to turn onto the front of the loop and passed Jon and Will again. He tipped the hat to them.

"Just having a little fun, boys. You go ahead and get going. Wouldn't want your wives to worry. Yeehaw!"

He laughed again, and slowly guided the horse out of the campground and onto the road. They listened to the clip-clop of the horses' hooves until they faded away.

Jon looked over to where Chris and the boy now sat around the fire. Chris thrust a stick with a hot dog on the end into Isaiah's hand. The boy took it but refused to extend it out over the flames. Chris gave him a shove and he nearly fell off of the log, then slowly and deliberately began to cook his dog.

"What do we do, Jon?"

"Check your phone. See if you get any signal. We need to call the police."

They took out their cell phones, and each saw the expected thing. No bars. Virtually anywhere that they had taken them out during the trip, they had experienced the same thing.

"Nothing."

"Me neither."

"We could drive and get some help. His farm probably isn't far down the road," Will said. Chris shouted again at the boy, and gave him another slap.

"And then what? They don't have phones in their houses, and what’re the Amish going to do if it comes to a fistfight."

"They have guns, don't they? For hunting?"

"I don't know. Probably. I guess. But I doubt they're going to shoot anyone."

"Maybe a park ranger will come around."

"You seen anyone since we've been here?"

"We've been out a lot. Could have come around any of those times."

Jon scowled and shook his head. "I guess we can just stick around and wait until they let him go. We can't just leave him here like this."

"All right."

Jon wished they had moved faster while packing up, had left before the hijacking of the buggy. But in his gut, he felt that the Amish boy wasn't the real target, that they had staged this for him and Will. And if that were the case, and they left, wouldn't they just send him back on his way? But then he imagined sitting on his couch at home and catching a news story about a body found near Ravensburg State Park, the victim one of the local Amish. He imagined Erin turning to him, shocked that the violence had happened at the very place they had just left, asking if he had seen anything. And he imagined trying to live with it, how it would haunt every trip after and many moments in between.

Will had gone to his car and rummaged inside for something. He straightened up with his back turned to Jon, and then turned around. A cry from across the campground drew their attention. They watched as Chris straddled the young man, already on the ground, and attempted to stuff the hot dog into his mouth. The victim squirmed beneath the weight of his attacker, and then swung his arm and struck Chris on the side of the head.

Chris bellowed, and still pinning the boy punched him twice; quick, heavy blows that made Jon wince in empathy. The Amish boy went still, and Chris stood up and threw the half of hot dog he still held down onto him.

"We need to do something. Now, before Jim comes back. I can't watch this anymore."

Jon looked at the highway, praying that a police vehicle would arrive. Or a ranger. Anyone at all. But the road remained empty. He turned back to look for signs of life from the boy, and found Chris facing them and staring. Silently daring them to intervene. Jon found a bit of the anger present the previous night. Before he could sound its depths, he stepped forward and said, "Okay, Will. Let's go. But we’ll try to talk to him, see if we can just get that kid out of there." He walked as though in slow motion, his stomach churning and heart thumping.