The War Game (4 page)

      The dumbass kid started climbing up the chain again. I yelled again but this time he ignored me.

             
Well, some lessons need to be learned. He got to the middle of the chain when a bunch of little girls started to rock the seat the chain was attached to. He lost his balance and fell about eight feet or so. Landed on his bottom. Then he started laughing but he didn’t go near the swing again. Lesson learned.

             
And that was why I liked to keep my feet low to the ground like a little mole.

             
“Can’t fall if you aren’t up high,” I said to Jim once.

             
Then he said, “But that way, you can’t touch the stars.” Then I explained what would happen to my body if I did, in fact, touch a star.

             
Something started smelling like a rotted-out pumpkin so I leaned over to the baby and sniffed. We had a winner.

             
I took Logan and sat her on the ground and rummaged around the area for assorted baby things. Finding a handmade diaper made from some old linens and those clip things you put on bags of potato chips, I proceeded to change her diaper.

             
Or his. Or technically and physically, both, really. Which one was the spare? I didn’t know.

I decided to keep referring to Logan as a her in my brain just because. Until Logan decided which part was the spare, if any.

~~~

             
After a while, I sat at table by myself. A group of people gave me an invitation to join them in a game of poker but I made up some excuse about being tired from playing mama to a dozen kids. Maybe some other time, I said. They left me alone.

             
More and more people started arriving and some even sat down at my table so I felt inclined to leave because I didn’t feel like talking. Although talking would have given me a good chance to practice more lying but I didn’t quite feel like it just then. I walked around aimlessly, looking at this worn-down amusement park. Broken glass from the arcade games and enough trash to start a small landfill scattered everywhere. Painted, demonic cartoon characters with smiles stretched across their faces laughed at you from every angle on the walking path.

             
I might have actually been here when I was really young. I had some moments of deja vu but maybe I was just remembering a commercial that I saw once. The melody of the jingle was playing somewhere in the back of my head.

             
It wasn’t until the bag seemed to get heavier that I remembered that the boy suggested that I stash my stuff.

             
I walked further until I got to the water rides. There’s lockers there that I could have used but that was too obvious of a spot.

             
What I needed was a place that was hard to get to or somewhere that nobody would want to go. The tree house popped into my mind but that was already occupied.

             
Then I got it. I knew the perfect place to hide my hobo bag but I would have to wait until it got dark. Better I hid it alone than in the presence of that boy, who knew if he was trustworthy.

             
I thought of his arms. I liked his muscular arms. What I would have traded for a camera to take a picture of them just so I could stare at it before I went to bed. I couldn’t believe I even admitted that to myself. Jim had a camera back at the bath and beauty camp. He took my picture. I looked like such a small, meek little mouse, I made him delete it. He refused. And then its batteries died. Beep beep beep. Dead.

             
I don't know why, I guess you could call it a fetish, but I have a thing for arms. I loved short-sleeved T-shirts, where you could see just a hint of muscle. Of course, they absolutely had to come with a nice-looking head as well and he fulfilled that requirement.

             
I needed a name to go with his face. Well, I guess that was an acceptable reason to go talk to him.

~~~

             
I found a place out of the burning, red sun. I lay down inside the duck pond. No water in its pool, no ducks either. But it still had its awning and shade was a hot commodity around there. Not many places around that gave off shade. Once someone found a nice spot, they tended to sit there the whole day unless bothered with some task from Micah.

             
I could remember pieces, more like a mosaic than a puzzle, though. I remembered a stuffed bear that I slept with at night. I remembered the wallpaper in my bedroom. I remembered when girl scouts used to sell cookies and not ammunition. I remembered when there were just fifty states. I could remember my moms’ voices and the stories they would read to me. I remembered riding in a car and paisley wallpaper. I almost remembered what money smelled like but not what it looked like. I knew there were presidents on it and a triangle with an eye but I couldn’t tell you which guy was on which bill. My mom had a collection of the paper bills when I was young. She showed me it once and then hid it, since paper money wasn’t used anymore in most areas. She didn’t want me to play with it and rip it up.

             
I remembered my little fishing game. It had a miniature magnetized fishing pole you’d use to pull out the fish that would spin around and open their mouths. I got so good I could pull out two fish at the same time. But usually one of the little fish would fall back into the pond. Safe. For now.

             
It ran on batteries. There’s nothing like a fresh pack of batteries. Sometimes with my talking dolls, I’d pretend I was a surgeon or a doctor or whatever and I would resuscitate my dolls back to life with the aid of a battery.

             
A few odd men were eating some ketchup sandwiches under the shade of a tree, near the octopus that welcomed visitors into the park many years ago until it was bought and then abandoned.

             
Micah was still working hard on repairing the door on a passenger cart as I walked by.

             
“They built those gates to keep people who wanted to get in out. Now they use them to keep us in,” he took a huge bite of his sandwich. After swallowing, with a dollop of ketchup in the corner of his mouth, he started again, “This park was the best thing ever when I was your age. I know you probably don’t care to hear any of my old stories.”

             
“Sure I do,” I lied.

             
“In elementary school, I was a patrol. We would wear bright orange belts and carry stop signs. We helped the younger kids cross the street. We did that every day, before and after school. I loved it. I loved having a bit of responsibility, plus we all got a free bus ride and ticket to the park. It was one of my happier times in my childhood.”

             
He tightened a bolt in one of the carts.

             
“Now, they’ve taken this away from me too!”

             
He threw the hammer; it dinged off a cart, leaving a noticeable dent.

             
Micah finished his sandwich and took a swig of water from an emptied ketchup bottle. At least I assumed it was rid of ketchup. Though Micah seemed like the type of guy who would eat weird protein shakes and massive dosages of vitamins, so who knew. He got up and did push-ups with one hand behind his back near the octopus ride.

             
“Do you know anything about the game?” I said.

             
“Little. There’s a bunch of rules, but mostly ignored. There are many players, not many winners. When the dice rolls, hope to God it’s not a free trip to Camp Z. Or if a card is drawn, hope that you have a winning hand. Although, it’s already a losing game.” Micah didn’t slow down, one push-up after another without losing pace.

             
“What is Camp Z?”

             
“Not good, that’s what it is. Where ya headed?”

             
“Going to see baby Logan and that guy who helped me find the sandwich buns.”

             
“Don’t get too attached, now. The deck will be shuffled again soon.”

             
I walked off. I noticed something flying to the right of my eye and saw that my shirt (baby blue with a V-shaped neck and minimal stains) had started unraveling at the sleeve. Damn thing. I’d had this for a couple of years or so. Now I might have to settle for a dorky oversized T-shirt with a screen print of a walrus or something equally as stupid. Figured that the only brand-new, unworn shirt I had across in years would be something that hideous. I guessed I should be grateful.

             
His words echoed in my brain, “Don’t get attached.” Whatever that meant. And attached to whom? That guy? Logan? Both? I was getting annoyed with all these cryptic messages. Though I no longer thought it was because the adults wanted to protect me, considering that the chance for bombs and sunny skies were high. Maybe they didn’t actually know about the cards, the games, and Camp Z but just pretended that they did.

~~~

             
I passed the fun house (it had awful, airbrushed paintings of ugly famous people) to climb up a long and winding wooden staircase. I hung out at the top of the water slides, looking at the baby roller coaster. Why people once loved getting tossed and thrown about by mechanical beasts, I’d never know. And why would they let their kids ride on them either?

             
I knew I should help out with whatever was going on but I was tired. I wanted to take a nap but I knew if I even closed my eyes for a moment, I would fall asleep and not wake up until tomorrow morning. And that would give someone an opportunity to steal my bag. Maybe I should hide my shoes during the night, too. Nah, I’d just use them as a pillow.

             
I climbed back down from the slide. I couldn’t see anyone until they were a few feet in front of me. Luckily most people were not around. They must have gotten the theater opened and started camping out in there. I would camp out elsewhere but for now, I was stumbling my way to the front of the park.

             
It was dark and no lights were on. It was very eerie when you turned around the corner and the moonlight was shining off of some fiberglass bear’s face.

             
I hoped tree girl didn’t see me. I hoped that she wasn’t nocturnal.

             
I had reached my most undesirable destination.

             
The octopus.

             
It stood tall and proud in the night,unaware of the rotting corpse that it held.

             
I stood still for about five minutes, making sure I couldn’t see or hear any movement. Then I tied the ends of the bag around my neck like some sort of primitive backpack. Then I shimmied up a tentacle and deposited my goods into the bottom of the passenger box.

             
I hoped this dead woman’s ghost was still around, hopefully the motherly type, and would watch over my stuff.

~~~

             
I woke up with the sun poking me blindly in the eyes.

             
My legs felt awful, my back felt worse. It wasn’t until I took the last painful step on the stairs that I realized I could have just slid down the slide.

             
I walked around, telling myself that I wasn’t looking for the boy I met the other day, but I was. I found my way to the octopus but I didn’t need my stuff right then. Good thing, because there was Margaret pushing a kid on the swings.

             
I walked over to the fountain, cupped my hands, and started to drink. It tasted moldy. Probably from the dollar coins that sat on the bottom. Like anyone could buy a wish for a dollar. A dollar gets you nothing. And then I spotted a drinking fountain. The water there was even colder. I felt dumb again.

             
Then I heard this great big splash.

             
Well, I’d found the boy.

             
He appeared to be taking part in some sort of bathing ritual, his shirt hanging out of his pocket. He was rolling and splashing around, like he was fighting some sort of invisible monster.

             
He saw me, stopped, and said, “Nothing like a nice bath to start off the day. Do you have a smoke?”

             
Gross. I shook my head no. “I heard it makes your breath smell bad,” I half-teased.

             
“Do you want to find out?” He did a cartwheel in the fountain, fell down, and was back to battling an invisible monster again.
Find out how? By him showing me how to smoke or how to kiss?

             
I saw people mulling around in a dusty gift shop. I walked on over to investigate and I thought about inviting the boy to go with me but why bother? He didn’t need my invitation.