Except for May and, if it wasn’t too late, her son, Jeffrey.
Dougie reappeared with a small glass bottle, about the size of a salt shaker, filled with multicolored sprinkles. He grabbed his bowl and covered his ice cream liberally with the dessert garnish.
“Where’s my chocolate sauce?” Timmy asked.
Dougie winced. “Shit, sorry, I forgot.”
“Honest to fucking Christ, Dougie,” Timmy said.
“I can go back.”
“Never mind.”
“No, really, I can go back.”
“My ice cream’s almost totally melted anyway, so it’s not worth it,” Timmy said angrily. He shook his head in disgust.
“I’ll go get you some syrup,” Charlene said.
“I said it’s not worth it!” Timmy shouted. “If your stupid son could just remember one goddamn thing…”
“Don’t you talk about Dougie that way,” Charlene said. She had a tone, like she was giving her husband, the boy’s stepfather, a serious warning. “The reason he forgets things is because you pick on him and make him nervous.”
“Yeah, it’s all my fault.”
Dougie’s gaze moved between Timmy and his mother. He had a smudge of chocolate sauce, with sprinkles in it, on his chin.
Wendell said, “I think I’m gonna go get changed.” He left the barn, but was back only a few seconds later. “There’s a guy down by the gate,” he said worriedly.
“At this time of night?” Timmy said. “It’s got to be long after midnight, isn’t it?”
“Who is it?” Charlene asked.
“It looks like maybe he’s on crutches or something.”
Oh no.
“Crutches?” said Timmy, looking at me. “That must be Mr. Walker.”
“I’m sure he’s just getting some air,” I said. “He likes to walk at night.”
Timmy shook his head slowly. “A man on crutches doesn’t go out for a midnight stroll. My guess is he’s out looking for you.”
“I’m not lying,” I said. “He’s just looking at the stars, I’ll bet.”
Timmy gave Wendell a nod. “Get him.” Wendell grabbed his shotgun and slipped out the door.
“No!” I said. “Timmy, come on, leave him alone. He’s just an old guy.”
“If he’s looking for you, and can’t find you, then he goes back, starts making phone calls. That’s not good. Can’t have that.” Timmy suddenly looked very serious, as though something had just occurred to him.
“What?” I said. “What are you thinking?”
“It’s just…You see, you go missing, and your father comes looking for you. And now your father’s going to go missing, and who’s going to come looking for him?”
“No one,” I said.
“What about the people at the camp? How many people are staying in those cabins?”
“Everyone’s checked out,” I lied. “After our guest got killed running away from that bear, they all got spooked and went home.”
Timmy thought about that. “I don’t think I believe you.”
“It’s true,” Lawrence said. “I tried to talk a couple of them into staying, but they wouldn’t hear of it.”
Outside, in the distance, I could hear shouting, an argument. Gradually, the voices grew louder, more distinct, as they approached the barn.
“Jeez, old man, can you not move a little faster on those things?”
“Goddamn it, I’m going as fast as I can!”
Lawrence whispered to me, “We’ll figure a way out of this.”
“You have a plan?” I whispered back.
Lawrence said nothing.
Dad appeared first in the doorway, and one of his crutches got caught on the latch, sending him falling to the barn floor.
“Dad!” I said.
“Zachary?” he said, raising himself up and looking over at me through the slats of the stall gate.
“Dad, are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”
Wendell stepped in behind him, pointing the shotgun downwards, in Dad’s direction.
“Mr. Walker,” Timmy said, “you’ve had quite the week, haven’t you? A body found on your property three days ago, a guest killed by a bear today. It’s no wonder all your guests have packed their bags and taken off.”
“Huh?” said Dad. “Where’d you hear that?”
I looked down at the floor, shook my head. Lawrence laid a consoling hand on my back.
Timmy strolled back over to the gate and said to me, “This is becoming a much fucking bigger problem by the moment. How long before someone else comes looking for you or your friend or your father?”
“It’s late,” I said. “People are asleep. No one will be looking for us.”
The hell of it was, that was probably all too true. The Wrigleys were in their sixties and turned in early, and Bob was their age, too. Lana had gone back into town, figuring Orville might need to talk. And the next closest set of neighbors was probably half a mile away, at least.
“I don’t know whether we can take that chance,” Timmy said. “Wendell.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re going to have to go down to the cabins. Round up anyone staying in them, bring them all back here.”
“How many’s that?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Three, four, something like that.”
Three. Bob and Betty and Hank.
“Okay.”
“You need your brother?”
Dougie, wiping his chin with his shirttail, looked up.
“No, I think I can handle it,” Wendell said. “Long as I have this.” He waved the shotgun. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, and disappeared into the night.
So now Timmy was prepared to kill me and Lawrence, my father, Bob Spooner, and Betty and Hank Wrigley. There was no way he could leave any of us behind, not once he’d brought off his parade surprise.
Timmy went over to my father, put his hand under his arm, and hauled him over to the stall. “Stand back there,” he ordered me and Lawrence. “Dougie, cover them.”
Dougie grabbed a shotgun and held it on us as Timmy opened the gate and shoved my father in with us. His crutches were back on the floor where he’d fallen, and he limped over to us.
I hugged him.
“I was worried,” Dad said. “You’d been gone a long time.”
“Yeah, well, we’re sort of in a situation,” I said. “You hurt?”
“Uh, I don’t think so,” Dad said.
“How’s your ankle?”
“Not too bad.” He glanced back into the open area of the barn, took in the van, the blue drum in the back, the device perched atop it. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked.
Lawrence and I both nodded.
“Timmy,” Lawrence said, “just where do you plan to be twenty-four hours from now?”
“Huh?”
“Tomorrow night. You’re not planning on still being here, are you? Living in this farmhouse?”
Charlene gave him a sly, questioning look. Dougie, not capable of that, just looked, as did Timmy.
“I mean, come on,” Lawrence said. “You’re going to kill all of us, kill God knows how many at the parade, you think people aren’t going to be looking for you? I don’t think something this big is going to be left for Chief Orville Thorne to figure out.” Lawrence glanced at me, did something with his eyebrows that seemed to say “No disrespect intended to your new stepbrother.”
Lawrence continued. “This county, this town, it’s going to be swarming with every law official imaginable, from Homeland Security to the Mounties. What happens when they find no one at Denny’s Cabins? No. One. Not even the owner. You think you can pretend not to know what happened to all of us? We’re just over the fucking hill.”