Milosz (15 page)

‘Your mom is really worried about you. She called the police, they're looking for you.'

‘She wouldn't do that. She thinks cops are fascists.'

‘Well, she was frightened and didn't know what else to do so she called them. You just disappeared. Why didn't you leave a note?'

‘Too complicated.' Robertson says this when he is about to shut down. Milo wants to throw his arms around the child and hold him close but knows this would cause a full freak-out and retreat. Changing tactics, Milo inhales deeply and produces what he hopes will pass for a contented sigh.

‘What a beautiful night,' he says. ‘You can even see stars.'

Robertson rubs Sal's tummy.

‘I was out in the country last night,' Milo adds. ‘With real Indians.'

‘Why?'

‘I was auditioning for a show.'

‘What kind of show?'

‘I don't actually know.'

‘So why did you audition for it?'

‘I wanted a job.'

‘Did you get it?'

‘Don't know yet. I learned how to build a debris hut.'

‘What's that?'

‘A shelter made from dead branches and leaves and stuff.'

‘Could we make one now?'

Sleep-deprived, with pulsating pain in his head, neck, ribs and legs, the last thing Milo wants to do is build another debris hut. If Robertson were a normal child, Milo could coax him home with offers of pizza and ice cream and mother love. ‘It's pretty dark,' he says, feeling for his opioids before remembering that the muggers took them.

‘No it's not. The moon's almost full. You can see fine when you get used to it.' Robertson starts digging around in the brush. ‘How big do the branches have to be?'

When Milo was earning his bullshit of arts degree, he became infatuated with a coltish runner who dreamed of making the Olympic team. He never got to sleep with her but watched her race many times and was always astonished at how ready to expire she looked after passing the finish line. She told him the pain got so bad in the last laps that it was as if she were being stabbed. In the final lap even her eyeballs started to burn, but she'd say in her head to her body, ‘This is it, no second chances. Show me what you've got.' Milo is having a similar conversation in his head with his tortured body as he searches for deadfall. Miraculously they spotted a tree in the moonlight with a Y-shaped nook at a good height. Robertson, full of vim and vigour, thanks to his steady diet of granola bars and juice boxes, searched tirelessly until he found what he considered to be the perfect ridgepole. Now, in his last lap, Milo's body must show him what it's got, because collapsing at Robertson's feet will only frighten him. Milo must appear in command of the situation. If Robertson has confidence in him, he may be able to convince him to return home. If Milo comes off as anything less than Mountain Man, Robertson will lose interest and vanish again. So despite the stabbing pain, Milo bends down repeatedly to fill his arms with branches and leaves. He had hoped that hunger would draw Robertson back to civilization, but the granola bars have eliminated this option, although Milo has tried muttering that a cup of hot chocolate would ‘go down real nice about now.' He doesn't know why he's talking as though he is in a Western. Robertson pays him no heed anyway, so focused is he on the task at hand. His face is filthy as are his clothes, a little wild boy.

‘Did the Indians teach you this?' Robertson asks.

‘No. It was a survivalist.'

‘What's that?'

‘A man determined to survive come the Apocalypse.'

‘Does he know when it's coming?'

‘No, but when it does, he'll be ready.'

‘That's smart,' Robertson says, stuffing more mud into the crevices of the hut.

‘Is it? I mean, would you want to go on living when human life on the planet has ended?'

‘Definitely. It would be totally boss.'

Milo imagines the autistic emerging from the detritus, freed from society's nagging demands, rebuilding the world their way.

Robertson stands back and appraises their work. ‘This is epic.'

‘I'm glad you like it but you might want to go home and get a sleeping bag if you plan to camp out here.'

‘Sleeping bags are for wussies.' He scrambles into the hut. Sal scurries after him.

Now what? Should Milo make a run for it? Get Tanis? How could she manage the terrain on crutches? And what if Robertson isn't here when they get back? And where is
here
, exactly? Without a flashlight how effective will Milo's return journey be? What if he can't find the hut?

‘Epic,' Robertson says again. Milo has never seen him so exhilarated. Turning him in, sending him back to the jail of home and school, would be a betrayal. But what about mother love? Unconditional love? Acceptance? Does Robertson not need this? Although Tanis doesn't really accept him, does she? She wants him to be normal. That's it then. She has lost him by trying to make him into something he is not. How many parents lose their children by trying to make them into something they are not? The coltish runner's parents were unable to hide their disappointment when she failed to make the Olympic team. She became a real estate agent, grew hips and children. Milo sees her ads on benches at bus stops. All that suffering just so people can sit on her face.

‘Milo?'

‘Yes?'

‘Are you coming in?'

The hut is small; it will be hard to keep his distance.

‘Actually, pardner, I was kinda pinin' for some viddles and a comfy bed.' Why is he talking cowboy again? Robertson doesn't respond, has probably shut down. A siren wails beyond the woods in the urban jungle and suddenly Milo would much rather be here than there. He hears a click and sees the glow of Robertson's flashlight through the debris hut.

‘Milo?'

‘Yes?'

‘Do you want a granola bar and an apple juice?'

‘Sure.' He crawls inside the hut until he is a foot from Robertson, who has laid out two bars and two juice boxes and three dog biscuits for Sal.

‘We have to ration,' the wild boy explains. They chew and swallow slowly. Periodically Robertson caresses the sides of the hut. ‘Epic,' he says.

omething raps against the ridgepole. ‘Anybody in there?'

‘Shhh,' Milo hisses, scrambling out.

‘What's going on here?' a bodybuilder cop demands.

‘Nothing, just
please
be quiet. He freaks out so easily.'

‘You got the kid in there?'

‘Robertson Wedderspoon? Yes. Do you have a cell, can you call his mother?'

‘We have to see the boy first.'

A sumo wrestler cop and a dog circle the debris hut as though checking for bombs.

‘It's just,' Milo tries to explain, ‘sudden moves startle him. He's autistic.'

‘We heard. What's your name?'

‘Milo Krupi. I'm his neighbour.'

‘You stayed here all night with him?'

‘No. I was out looking for him and got mugged. He found me, actually.'

‘Why didn't you take him home?'

‘Because he didn't want to go home.'

‘He's a kid. He has to go home.'

‘I know, but I was trying to do it gradually, in daylight, so we wouldn't get lost.'

‘Why doesn't he want to go home?'

‘Oh, domestic trouble. His parents broke up. And school, he's bullied at school.'

The cop taps the hut with his baton. ‘You built this?'

‘We both did. It's a debris shelter. Robertson was very happy making it. I didn't want to ruin it for him by forcing him to go home.'

‘Is that right? Well, how 'bout you let him talk for himself?'

‘Actually, I'd prefer it if you'd let me wake him.'

‘Mr. Crappy, you're under suspicion for kidnapping. We don't want you talking to him.'

‘That's absurd. He's my friend.'

‘Let's see what
he
has to say about it.'

The sumo wrestler grips Milo's arm. ‘Stand over here, please.'

‘Could you take your hat off?' Milo asks the bodybuilder.

‘What?'

‘You'll look less threatening if you take your hat off. Plus I don't think you'll fit through with the hat on. It's pretty snug in there.'

The sumo wrestler continues to grip Milo's arm while the bodybuilder kneels in front of the debris hut. ‘Robertson?' he inquires.

‘He's asleep,' Milo explains.

‘Shut up,' the sumo wrestler advises.

‘Robertson,' the bodybuilder repeats, ‘it's all right. You're safe now. You can come out.' Sal, turned feral by her taste of the wild, charges at the cop, barking excitedly. The police dog, still on a leash, lunges towards her, also barking.

‘Milo?' Robertson cries, sounding terrified.

‘I'm right here, buddy. It's the police. They've come to find you.'

‘Shut up,' the wrestler repeats.

‘Milo, you promised you wouldn't tell anybody. Did you tell them?'

‘I didn't, buddy. Honest.' The wrestler tightens his grip.

‘You told them, you told them, you told them!' Robertson shrieks.

The bodybuilder pushes Sal aside, takes off his hat and crawls into the debris hut, club, gun and all. Within seconds Robertson is shrieking and kicking, causing branches and leaves to pop off the hut.

‘It's okay, son,' the bodybuilder says, ‘we're not going to hurt you. Your mom's really worried about you and she wants you home.'

‘My mom says police are
fascists
!' Robertson yells. ‘I'm never going home ever, ever, ever, ever, ever!'

‘Let me talk to him,' Milo persists.

‘Shut up.'

Robertson's high-tops poke through the hut as he kicks. ‘I'm never going home ever, ever, ever, ever, ever!' The hut vibrates as he bangs his head against it. Within seconds the bodybuilder drags him out, kicking and screaming.

‘Call his mother,' he says to the wrestler. ‘Tell her the fascists are on their way.' The bodybuilder strides through the woods with the wailing, flailing boy in his grasp.

•••

‘Do you know this man?' the bodybuilder asks Tanis.

‘He's my neighbour.'

‘We found him with your son.'

‘
I
found him,' Milo interjects. ‘Actually, he found me.'

‘Shut up,' the wrestler says.

‘He built some kind of wigwam with your son last night and slept in it.'

Tanis, who has been looking and acting like a madwoman, opens and closes her mouth several times. Already she has further alienated the police by accusing them of mistreating her son. ‘Get away from him,' she kept yelling at them. Milo had to restrain Robertson while she strapped on the protective helmet. They can hear him thumping as they stand in the front hall.

Tanis looks at Milo with eyes completely unfamiliar to him. ‘You knew where he was?'

‘Not until the early hours of this morning,' Milo explains. ‘He didn't want to come back and I didn't want to force him. I mean, it was dark. We could have gotten lost.'

‘So how long were you planning to stay in the wigwam?' the bodybuilder inquires.

‘Hopefully not long. I was hoping he'd get hungry and I could interest him in some pancakes or something.'

Tanis sits and stares at nothing. ‘Why didn't he want to come home?'

‘He didn't want to go to school,' Milo says, which is easier than explaining that the pressure to be normal has overwhelmed Robertson.

‘Well, ma'am, if you're satisfied that your son's safe, we'll be on our way.'

‘What do you mean “safe”? He's never safe.' She starts getting loud again. ‘He's bullied in the schoolyard every single day. What kind of sick world allows a boy to be bullied
every single day
? What kind of sick, perverted world?' Both cops edge towards the door.

‘So you want no charges laid?' the bodybuilder asks.

‘Charges?'

‘Against your neighbour here.'

‘For what?'

‘He kept the boy in the wigwam, ma'am.'

‘It was a debris shelter,' Milo interjects.

‘Get out,' Tanis orders.

Milo and the cops look at each other because they're not sure whom she's talking to.

‘All of you. Get out. Now.' She starts swinging her crutch. The cops hurry out but Milo lingers. The wrestler reaches back for him. ‘You too, asshole.'

Vera's frying bangers again, and bread in the banger grease. ‘Off with the muddy shoes,' she commands.

‘I found him,' Milo says.

‘We know,' Wallace says. ‘We can hear him trying to split his head open.'

‘Poor little tyke,' Vera says.

‘Where was he?' Pablo asks.

‘In the ravine. He didn't want to come home so we built a shelter.'

Wallace bites a piece of toast. ‘With what?'

‘Debris. It's called a debris shelter. Robertson loved it.'

Vera pats Milo's shoulder. ‘Go wash up, then come have some brekkie.'

He eats the fried pig and bread because he doesn't know what else to do.

‘So you're a hero, Milo,' Pablo says. ‘Did Tanis go crazy when she saw him? I saw this movie about this stripper whose son got kidnapped and she was, like, totally freaked out, and when the cops found him she was, like, totally hysterical, hugging him so hard. She was crying and everything and even the CIA agent got emotional. It made me cry.'

‘Tanis can't hug Robertson.' Milo eats another sausage even though he doesn't want it. They couldn't hold Robertson still enough to wash him. He is up there, thrashing, covered in filth.

‘You look knackered,' Vera says. ‘I'd say a good rest is in order.'

‘I need painkillers. I cracked a rib.' He lifts up his T-shirt, revealing the chest wrap.

‘Goodness gracious, how did you do that?'

‘A deer kicked me.'

Vera and Pablo exchange dubious looks. Wallace, engrossed in the personals, isn't even listening. Vera digs in her purse. ‘Take some of my back pills.'

‘What's in them?'

‘Haven't the foggiest.'

Milo swallows four.

He wakens to
TV
noise and Vera slamming things around in the kitchen, but no head-banging. Robertson has probably fallen asleep on the floor. How will Tanis lift him by herself? He presses his ear against the wall.

‘Milo?'

‘What?'

Wallace beckons him from his bedroom. ‘Can you come here for a sec?' This is the new Wallace who asks rather than commands. Milo walks into his room and watches him hurriedly close the door. ‘She's been out of control since you left,' Wallace says. ‘It's like she owns the place.'

‘I've noticed.'

‘It's
your
house. You can stop her.'

‘No I can't. You know I can't.'

Wallace sits on the bed and starts coughing. ‘I wish she'd croak.'

‘Why? She seems pleasant enough. She's doing your laundry and mending your clothes, feeding you … '

‘Call that food? I've put on four pounds already. I'll pay you a hundred bucks if you make the kitchen off limits.'

‘I have no energy to fight her, Wallace. You may have noticed that I am injured.'

‘So tell her that's why. Say you're injured and you can't eat fried food, just raw juices and shit.'

‘Wallace, what is the problem? Why can't you just
talk
to your mother?'

‘Oh, like you could talk with your father. When are you picking him up?'

‘What?'

‘You can't just leave him there.'

‘Are you telling me if your mother was being cared for in an institution, at no cost to you, you would go get her?' This gives Wallace pause. ‘And anyway, we don't know if it's him. I haven't seen this famous footage.'

‘It's him.'

‘So you keep saying.'

‘Do you have Fennel's number?'

‘Of course not.'

‘Pablo won't give it to me.'

‘Did you offer him a hundred bucks for it?'

‘Very funny.'

‘Why does Pablo have it?'

‘Are you kidding me? He's been all over her.'

‘What about Maria?'

‘Yesterday's news.' Wallace starts coughing again.

‘So you're saying he took Fennel out?'

‘They went to some art opening then came back and made out on the couch.'

‘You watched?'

‘I was getting a beer, okay?'

‘Where was Vera?'

‘Asleep in the chair.'

‘You mean they were getting it on while she was asleep in the chair?'