Hideout Read online

  “I don’t know! They just got in it and left. They didn’t ask me or anything.”

  He looked over at the boat Slade and the others had come in last night. For the first time I studied it closely. It was a beat-up aluminum work boat that looked like some I’d seen tied up to tugs and construction barges. It was sixteen or eighteen feet long. Just like the one Officer Stockton had described.

  “Think you can get that one workin’?” Davey said.

  “I don’t know anything about fixing engines! And what am I going to tell Dad?”

  He turned to me. “Maybe they won’t be gone long.”

  I took a deep breath. “Something’s not right about all this, Davey.”

  He looked at the deck. “I wish my dad would come,” he said.

  “Slade doesn’t even look like you.”

  “He’s my stepbrother.”

  “So he’s not even your real brother?”

  “He’s still my real brother.”

  “What did he say y’all were going to do out here?”

  “He said we’d live in the camp.”

  I felt suddenly foolish and angry for entertaining Davey’s fantasy of a life in the swamp.

  “People can’t live in this!” I said. “Don’t you understand that? Even if it was fixed up, nobody lives out here!”

  “That’s what he promised,” Davey said quietly.

  “Well, he’s not telling you everything. There’s something else going on.”

  Davey started shaking. “He said to bring the money out here and fix it up so we could stay.”

  “Where’d he get all that money?”

  “I don’t know. He just gave it to me after he picked me up from my foster home.”

  “Who are his friends? Do you know anything about them?”

  Davey shook his head.

  “Slade is dangerous, Davey. Did you hear the way he talked to me last night?”

  Davey shook his head again, but I could see he was hiding something.

  “I thought he was going to hit me,” I said.

  Davey sat on the deck and pulled his knees up to his chest and stared at his kneecaps. “He wouldn’t do that,” he said.

  “Well, he acted like it.”

  Davey didn’t answer.

  “Hey,” I said.

  He cocked his eyes up, and I realized the more angry I acted toward him the less help he’d be.

  “I’ll think of something,” I said. “I’ll find a can of food we can eat for breakfast. Then I’ll look at that boat and see if I can get it started.”

  “Then you’ll leave,” he mumbled.

  “I don’t know what I’m gonna do. But if I don’t figure out a way to get home, there’s gonna be people all over the place looking for me.”

  * * *

  Davey and I sat on the deck and ate cold chicken noodle soup from the can for breakfast. Afterward I climbed into the work boat and tried to crank it while Davey watched from above. The engine turned over, but the motor wouldn’t start up. I didn’t see a gas tank, so I assumed it was built into the seat. I searched until I found the fuel gauge near the key and saw that it was on empty.

  “It’s just out of gas,” I said.

  “Maybe they went to get some more,” Davey said.

  “Well, that doesn’t help me any.”

  “What about the canoe?” Davey said.

  “It’d take me hours to get back in that thing. I have to be back before church starts.”

  Davey began to rock again.

  “I think he might have stolen that money,” I said.

  “Sometimes Slade steals things,” Davey admitted.

  “Geez,” I said. “Has he gotten arrested before?”

  Davey nodded against his knees.

  “What’s he gonna think about my dad being a policeman?”

  “You better not tell him.”

  I sighed, feeling the weight of hopelessness settling on top of me.

  “I don’t know what to do, Davey.”

  “I think we should keep workin’ on the camp,” he said. “He might be mad if we don’t.”

  “Davey, I think we both need to leave as soon as we find a way.”

  He shook his head.

  “Why?” I said.

  “My dad’s gonna come.”

  “It doesn’t look like it.”

  Davey didn’t answer.

  “You think he knows about Slade stealing money?”

  “He wouldn’t like it if he did. Dad doesn’t do that sort of thing.”

  I didn’t know what to believe anymore. What to care about. Davey’s reasoning seemed to go in circles.

  He looked at me. “Please, just help me fix somethin’. Until they get back.”

  * * *

  I helped Davey nail some of the wall siding that was coming loose. It seemed like pointless work, and I couldn’t stop worrying about what was going to happen if Slade and his friends didn’t show soon. I could see it all playing out in my head. Grover would show up at church without me. Mom would find out I’d never been over there. Then my whole tangle of lies would begin to unravel itself. She’d tell Dad, and he’d call Officer Stockton. There would be search and rescue vessels all over the rivers and Coast Guard choppers in the air. And there was nothing I could do about it except wait until they found me.

  I looked at Davey hitting the nails, his face twisted with concentration. What did he think would happen then?

  But Davey didn’t seem to think ahead at all.

  24

  Slade and the boys motored up the creek just after ten o’clock. I was doubtful, but I figured I might still have time to get home before Mom and Dad left for church. Then I could just ride with them and avoid Grover. I dropped the hammer and went down to the dock to catch the Bream Chaser while Davey watched.

  My skiff looked close to sinking with the weight of all three of them balanced precariously in the center. Slade came in too fast, and I had to kick my feet out and turn the boat to keep it from slamming into the pilings. They were quiet and tired-looking, none of them talking. Jesse gave me the bowline, and I took it and wrapped it around the nail and held the boat steady. Slade hefted the cooler onto the dock while Jesse crawled out with a jerrican of gasoline and Fred with a sack of McDonald’s and another sack full of something. They stood on the dock and continued past me into the camp without a word.

  Slade rubbed his eyes and looked up at Davey. “You get anything done?”

  “We nailed some siding back on,” Davey said. “Where’d you go?”

  “Where do you think? You don’t have anything to eat around here.”

  “We’ve got—”

  “Nothing we want,” Slade interrupted.

  “I can catch fish.”

  “Well, go catch some, then. We’ve got McDonald’s.”

  “I really can,” Davey insisted.

  Slade frowned and looked back at the Bream Chaser. “We almost sank in that thing,” he said.

  “My boat’s not rated for that much weight,” I said.

  Slade glanced at me, then looked at Davey again.

  “I’ll get the fish,” Davey said. He set down his hammer, jumped off into the marsh, went to his canoe, and began shoving it into the water.

  Slade finally turned to me. “What?” he said.

  “I need to go home.”

  Slade looked back at the creek. Davey was paddling across toward one of the jugs. Slade brushed the hair from his face and looked down at me.

  “You remember that talk we had last night?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  He stared at me as if making sure.

  “You live at 56 Acorn Drive?” he asked.

  I swallowed. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

  “It’s in your boat. On the registration.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  He kept his eyes on me, and the fearsome weight of his doll face was heavy.

  “So I know where you live,” he said. “Don’t forget that talk.” />
  I felt my fingers trembling. “I won’t tell anybody about your camp,” I said.

  “Good,” he said.

  He looked back at the Bream Chaser, studying it like he was making sure there wasn’t anything else he needed from it. Then he turned and started toward the camp. It crossed my mind that he might not let me leave.

  “Go ahead,” he said over his shoulder. “Get out of here.”

  * * *

  I knew I needed to leave quickly, but I felt I needed to say goodbye to Davey first. I motored across the creek to where he was working with the catfish jugs. I came up against the canoe, and he reached out and held my boat.

  “You goin’ home now?” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  Davey looked down and picked one of the jugs off the floor of the canoe and began to untangle it.

  “Maybe your dad will be here soon,” I said.

  Davey nodded.

  “And it looks like Slade and his friends got some things at the store. It shouldn’t be so bad now.”

  Davey didn’t look up. “I think if I show them I can catch fish, they’ll like it better here,” he said.

  “Maybe so,” I said.

  Neither of us spoke for a moment. I knew what he wanted to ask me, but he didn’t.

  “So I better go,” I said.

  He looked up at me and nodded.

  “You think you’re going to be okay?” I asked.

  He stared at me and nodded again, but I saw he wasn’t sure at all.

  “Bye,” he said.

  As I pulled away I should have been relieved, but I wasn’t. It didn’t seem right that it should all end so suddenly like this. And it was obvious that Davey wasn’t going to be okay. But I was too concerned with getting home to dwell on it.

  25

  When I got to the mouth of Ware Bayou I glanced down at my fuel tank, and the sight of the gauge set my heart to pounding in my chest again. They’d run it almost completely empty. It read less than one-eighth of a tank, and I’d never seen it that low before. I wasn’t sure I could get even halfway home. If I ran out, then I’d have to wait for someone to come along and tow me—if there was anyone even close. And that would definitely blow any chance I had of getting back before Mom and Dad left for church.

  I forced myself to stop thinking about the what-ifs and focus on my only course of action—getting as close to home as I could. I set my sights downriver and twisted the throttle.

  I traveled close to the riverbank, where I could paddle the boat to land if I broke down. I remembered something Dad said about burning more fuel at top speed, but I couldn’t bring myself to slow down. My jaw was clenched. It was all I could do not to reach behind and pick up the fuel tank and shake it to get a feel for just how much gas was left. But I didn’t want to tilt it. I pictured the fuel hose inside the tank, slurping for fuel like a straw in a tilted cup.

  It seemed a miracle that I made it to the mouth of Bluff Creek. But still, I was waiting for the motor to start coughing and sputtering at any moment.

  Please, God, let me get home. Just this one time.

  When I raced past Grover’s dock I looked up at his house. I imagined him getting into his church clothes. I shut away the thought and faced the bayou again.

  “Just this one time,” I said aloud. And I knew there was something else I should add to my deal with God, but it would be another lie.

  Once I was halfway up the bayou I started to feel I was actually going to make it. The waterway narrowed, and I raced between the trees. I had about a hundred yards to go when the motor started losing power. I reached behind and grabbed the fuel bulb and began squeezing it, sucking every drop of gas possible from the tank. The motor sped up and then slowed.

  “Okay, God, I won’t go out there again,” I said. “Just let me get home and I won’t go out there again.”

  The engine sputtered and died.

  I took my hand off the throttle and looked at my dock a hundred yards away. I got out the paddle and began paddling the rest of the distance.

  When I pulled up to the dock all was quiet. Normally Dad would have already been walking out of the house to meet me. I tied the Bream Chaser to the dock and hurried inside. I saw Mom pass through the kitchen, brushing her hair. She stopped and looked at me.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said. “I decided to come home and ride with you and Dad. Then I ran out of gas. I had to paddle a lot of the way.”

  “Ran out of gas?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I guess I should have paid more attention to it.”

  Mom studied me. “Okay,” she said. “Well, I’m glad it turned out all right. Hurry up and get showered and dressed. We’re going to be late.”

  * * *

  To my relief, Grover wasn’t even at church that day. I remembered my plea to God and tried my best to pay attention to the sermon as repayment for any help He’d given me. The minister talked about a man in Jesus’s time who was robbed on his way to Jericho. First a priest walked by without helping him. Then somebody called a Levite passed by and didn’t help him either. Finally a Samaritan stopped and took care of the man and gave him a place to stay. And that’s where they get the term “good Samaritan.”

  The whole point of the story was about being a good neighbor, and I couldn’t help but think that I had acted like the good Samaritan with Davey. And maybe that canceled out the lies and deceit and danger.

  But after church I just wanted the rest of the day to be normal. I didn’t care about being a good Samaritan. When we got home I asked Dad to drive me to get more gas for the Bream Chaser. Along the way, he gave me a lecture about always checking the fuel level and I promised him that I would. When we got back to the house again I helped him hook his boat and trailer to the hitch on the car. We didn’t load any fishing gear, but he said he just wanted to take her out and get the feel of things. It had been a while since he’d run the engine. We got Mom to ride with us to the public ramp so that she could drive back after we launched.

  The only time I ever see Dad completely relaxed is when he’s driving a boat. It’s like the wind against his face blows away all of his thoughts of work and projects. Even if it weren’t hard to talk over the noise of the outboard, I don’t think he’d want to say much.

  He drove us south, out the mouth of the Pascagoula River. The Mississippi Sound was calm that afternoon, with gentle swells clear out to the Gulf, where the water turned to a jade color and I could see the white-sand ripples of the bottom. Dad eventually slowed the boat and gazed out at the horizon.

  “I know I’ve been working hard, Sam. And I’m sorry we haven’t gotten to do more together so far this summer.”

  “It’s all right,” I said.

  He turned to me. “No it’s not. There’s really no good excuse for it. For years I tried to get a promotion, and once I got it I was busy saving money for the house. Then I spent every weekend watching it get built. Now that all that’s behind me, it seems I’m busier than ever at being a chief.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “Next weekend we’re going fishing. Hell or high water.”

  I nodded. “Okay,” I said.

  He put his hand on my shoulder. “I couldn’t ask for a better son. I should tell you that more often.”

  A little over a week ago I would have liked hearing those words and feeling his hand on my shoulder. Now it all made me feel terrible. I wasn’t the boy he thought I was. The lies and deceit and shame burned inside me.

  * * *

  After supper that evening I settled into my beanbag chair to read some of a Gary Paulsen novel I’d been halfway through before all the stuff with my boat and Davey. Then I got into bed early and continued reading with the light of my bedside lamp. A few minutes later Mom came into my room and sat beside me on the bed. She looked deep into me and stroked my hair over my head with her fingers like I reminded her of somebody she was trying to remember. She used to straighten my hair all the time. I thought back to a few mont
hs before, when I was standing in the kitchen and her habit annoyed me. I’d pulled away and complained that I was too old for that. Now she didn’t do it so much, and when she did it was just a quick brush like she couldn’t help herself. And sometimes it was still annoying, but that night it felt good.

  “Are you and Dad proud of me?”

  Her look grew deeper and her eyes glistened in the weak light. “Of course we are, Sam. That’s a silly question.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Sam, you’re doing everything right for a kid your age.”

  I wasn’t, but it felt good to hear that she still thought so.

  “There’s nothing you can do to make us stop loving you,” she said.

  “Nothing?”

  She patted my arm. “Nothing … Now, stop worrying and get some sleep,” she said.

  “Okay,” I said.

  She went out and pulled my door shut.

  I put the book on my bedside table and turned off the lamp and lay there. I reminded myself not to think about Davey. Our time at the camp seemed so far away and long ago. But now, alone in the darkness, I couldn’t keep my mind off the swamp. Slowly, it all crept into my head again and I was replaying everything I’d seen and heard and trying to put pieces together to make sense of it.

  The missing dad, the money, the plan—Slade had mentioned something about a plan. What plan?

  Something else wasn’t sitting right with me. I remembered how Slade had seemed surprised to see Davey at the swamp camp. Like he never expected him to be there.

  The unanswered questions built in my head. And I was certain Davey wasn’t thinking about any of it nearly as much as he should. Right then he was probably lying on the hard floor of the camp, listening to his creepy brother and his friends talking in whispers and drinking beer and smoking cigarettes into the night, wondering when his father was going to show up.

  Stop it, Sam. It’s not your problem. They don’t even want you around.

  But I’d brought him food and helped him repair the camp and we’d become friends. I felt like I’d been kicked out of my own house and given no reason for it.

  It’s not your swamp camp, and it never was.

  Then I thought about Grover calling Dad a redneck and Mom a crappy artist. After that, I didn’t see how we could ever be friends again. It seemed everything was just getting worse when all I’d wanted was to make it better.