"And what did your old man do?"
"He kicked me across the room. I can still see that very clearly. He hollered something and then kicked me across the room. And that's my very first memory."
"That's messed up."
"Yeah, it is. And every day since then has been the same. I'm not putting up with it anymore. I can't."
"And you're really planning on running away?"
Barry pointed at the overstuffed book bag. "Not planning. I'm doing it. Tonight. I just wanted to tell you first, you know? I didn' t want to leave without saying goodbye. But now that I 'm here… well, goodbye sucks, doesn't it?"
"Then don't say goodbye." Timmy's voice cracked. "Stay. We'll figure something out." Barry began to cry, softly. "How?"
"I don't know. But we will." Timmy's eyes filled with tears. "We'll figure it out together. Me, you, and Dougthe Three Musketeers. We' re like Luke, Han, and Chewie, man. You can 't break up a good team like that."
"Only if I get to be Han."
Timmy smiled. "Sure. I'd rather be Luke, anyway, and Doug's obviously a good pick for Chewbacca."
Both of them wiped their eyes and then laughed.
"Jesus Christ." Barry groaned. "It hurts to laugh. But it feels good, too." Timmy appraised his friend's face. "He really cut up your cheek. What did that? A knife or something?"
Barry's expression darkened. "No. It was a ring."
"A ring?"
"Yeah." He paused, unsure of how to continue. "Timmy, I need to tell you something. It might make you angry."
"Dude, I couldn't be any more pissed off at your old man than I am right now."
"Don't be so sure." He took a deep breath, kneaded his ribs, and then continued.
"Your grandfather had his Freemason's ring on when he was buried, right?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Because that was what cut my cheek up tonight. My old man was wearing it." To Barry's chagrin, Timmy seemed only mildly surprised.
"Aren't you pissed off?" Barry asked. "He stole your grandpa's ring, man!"
"I've got something I need to tell you, too," Timmy said. "I suspect that your dad's taken a lot more than just the ring."
Barry was shocked. "What are you talking about? You mean you knew he was robbing dead people? You didn't say anything?"
Timmy stood up, peered through his window, and made sure his parents were still asleep.
He didn' t hear them moving around, and there were no lights on. Assured they were safe, he knelt back down and told Barry everything he suspected and everything that had transpired since their fight with Barry ' s father behind the utility shed. He started with the legend that Reverend Moore had related to Katie and him, and then worked his way chronologically through the past month ' s events, lying out the supporting evidence and bolstering it with his research.
Finally, Timmy voiced his suspicions regarding Mr. Smeltzer 's compliance, and added Barry's admission that his father had stolen Timmy's grandfather's ring as further proof. He left out his suspicions that it had also been Barry' s own father who hid Pat kemp
's body, because he wasn't sure how Barry would react to that. Grave robbing was one thing. Accessory to murder was another.
When he was finished, Timmy braced himself, expecting Barry to scoff just like his parents had. But he'd forgotten something. Barry was his friendand Barry believed him without question.
"I knew about the old church," he said. "My old man told me about it once. If you look carefully, you can still see some of the foundation stones. The grass has pretty much grown over them, though. There are pictures of it down at the library. Never heard about the ghoul, though."
"Well, for whatever reason, they imprisoned it, rather than just killing the thing. I don't know why. But now it's loose again."
"Okay," Barry said. "What are you going to do about it? Have you told your parents about the ghoul?"
"Yeah." Timmy's voice grew sullen. "They didn't believe me. Dad grounded me and…
ripped up my comic collection."
Barry gasped. "Holy shit! All of them?"
Timmy nodded. "Every last one."
"Oh, man. That's… I don't know what to say. My old man, I could see him doing that. But your dad? Never in a million years."
"Well, believe it. The proofs sitting in the basement right now."
"I'm sorry about that, man. What are you going to do?" Timmy shrugged. "Nothing I can do. And it's not like I can run away with you. Not now. Not after…"
"Katie?"
"Yeah. You can understand that, right?"
Barry spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. "I guess. I mean, she's cute and all. I don' t know. Just seems like me, you, and Doug have been hanging out longer. I 'd think we would come first."
Timmy's temper flared. "I'm putting everybody first. If I don't do something about this ghoul, then everyone's in danger. Katie. Doug"
"Not me," Barry interrupted. "I'm out of here, man. Tonight."
"What about Doug?"
"I'm stopping at his house next. It's on my way. Who knows? He might want to go with me, crazy as his mom is."
Timmy's spirits sank even lower. He hadn't considered the possibility that both of his friends might want to leave.
"Doug won't go. He'd chicken out."
"Probably," Barry agreed, "but I at least want to tell him bye."
"Then what?"
"Figured I'd walk to Porters or Jefferson and hop a freight train. They're both close enough that I could make it before dawn. Then I' ll just hide out in the woods along the tracks until a train comes by. I don ' t want to grab one here in town because all of the ones that come into the paper mill are either coal trains or log carriers, and it would be too hard to hide on one of those. Dangerous to hop, too."
"So you'll hop a train. And go where?"
"Wherever it takes me. Hanover is too close, but maybe Westminster or Baltimore or down into West Virginia or Ohio. Wherever. As long as it' s away from here, I really don 't care."
"Barry, you just had the shit beat out of you, man. You can barely talk. You're moving like you're eighty years old. There's no way you can hop a train tonight."
"Well, then what do you suggest I do, Timmy? Hitchhike? Get picked up by some psycho, and dumped alongside Interstate Eightythree? No thanks. Or maybe busted by the cops and then brought back home to my old man?"
"Stick around for another day. Rest up a little bit. Recuperate. Doug and I will hide you. When your mom reports you missing, we'll say we don' t know anything about it. At least get better before you leave."
"Where are you gonna hide me? The Dugout? No way I'm staying there. Not if there really is a ghoul on the loose. And I can' t stay here. Your parents would want to call the cops and stuff."
"And then your dad would go to jail."
"Probably not. This isn' t TV. And even if the cops did put him in jail, what if they took me away from Mom and stuck me in a foster home? That would be just as bad."
"How about you hide at Doug's house?"
Barry snorted in derision. "Yeah, right. With his mom? Get real. Would you spend the night there?"
"No."
"I'm sorry, Timmy. I really am. But this is the way it's got to be. I can't stay around here another night. If I do, I'll never escape. I don't want that." They fell quiet again. Somewhere in the night, out on the main road, a car backfired. An owl hooted closer to them. The crickets had grown quiet. Barry slowly stood up. "Well, I guess this is it." He stuck out his hand. Timmy stared at it. After a moment, he took it. Their grips were firm. Then Barry pulled him to his feet.
"See," Barry said. "I'm feeling better already. Told you it wasn't as bad as it looks." Timmy didn't respond.
"You gonna be okay?" Barry asked.