The boy’s mind reeled. Bull Man examined the boy's half-foot, and the boy remembered something about acid.
He wondered: had Bull Man burned away his flesh with acid?
“Lysergic acid diethylamide,” said the man. “It’s a hallucinogen.”
The boy wondered if Bull Man could hear his thoughts.
CHAPTER 8
Rescue, July 5
Emboldened by their exploits at the fair, the boys grew hungry for adventure. They kept each other awake until late, talking of Stephen’s larceny and Jack’s rescue. Ben interjected occasionally, but allowed Jack and Stephen to dominate the discussion. When they woke, they got excited about what this new day could bring.
“What do you think we should do today?” asked Jack.
Stephen replied first, “What about that pond we saw on the map?”
“Or we could try to get across that river and see how far we can get that way,” suggested Ben.
“I think we should do something bigger — like build something cool,” said Jack.
“Like what?” Stephen asked.
“I don’t know, maybe like a big tree fort or something?” said Jack.
Ben dampened the idea — “You need tons of lumber and junk for that. It would be easier to find some other kid’s tree fort and take it over.”
“That’s true — my Dad’s always talking about how much lumber costs,” said Jack. “I can’t think of any other kids who have a good fort. Well there’s one a couple of streets over, but it’s right next to the house and it’s pink.”
“That would be awesome,” laughed Stephen. “They look out their window and we’re right there in their girly tree-house. We’d be all playing house and making tea and stuff.”
“Hey, why don’t we just break into that guy’s house?” said Ben. “You know, the one who the cops hauled away.”
Jack paused before commenting — “No, that’s crazy, that’s a crime scene. You can’t just break in there.”
“Yeah, besides, they would have already taken all the good stuff out of there,” said Stephen. “All the torture stuff and everything is probably down at headquarters already.”
Ben said, “But what if there’s a like a secret door or something, and that’s where he keeps his victims. Cops are always missing that kind of thing, and then the guy gets off and goes right back to killing.”
“Sure! That happens all the time,” mocked Jack. “Oh yeah — in the movies.Bad movies at that.”
Ben pretended to be offended — “Man, that’s just not nice. I just had an idea, and you had to make fun of me like that. Why do you have to be like that.”
“Seriously, Jack,” said Stephen. “Now he’s going to go off and make a secret torture-chamber and hide it from the police in a pink tree-house. See what you’ve done?”
They all laughed.
“You know what we ought to do?” asked Jack. “We ought to find out if those stupid guys shot that dog.”
“How are we going to do that?” asked Ben.
“Well, if you find the bullet that killed that dog, then you could probably get the cops to match it to their gun and stuff,” answered Stephen. “But that would be really gross, because you’d have to cut up smelly dead dog. The best way would be to catch them shooting another dog.”
“Oh, you think they’re going to do it again?” asked Jack. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Why do you think they were looking for that other dog?” asked Stephen. “They were trying to find it so they could shoot that one too. Those types of guys always come back for more.”
“Hey — I should bring my camera,” said Ben. “It’s in my bag somewhere. It’s got an awesome zoom on it.”
“How are we going to know when they’re going to do it again though?” asked Jack.
Stephen answered — “We just go over there and stake it out. It's too bad you don't get any cellphone reception around here. I've got zero bars and we need communication — do you have any walkie-talkies or anything.”
“Sure, but they’re probably not charged,” said Jack.
“Let’s get everything together,” said Stephen.
Planning and plotting absorbed most of their morning. When they headed out, the boys each carried a pack with provisions for their stakeout. Exchanging excited banter, they made their way through the hot midday sun, taking their favorite trails. Still twenty minutes from the quarry, they started to plan their approach. The west side seemed safest — they could come up through the woods and be high on the ridge with the sun at their backs all afternoon.
Stephen brought up the possibility that the older kids were already at the quarry, so they decided to check the parking spot before trying to approach the pit. This detour added significant time to their hike, but they all agreed that it made sense to be cautious.
They found the road empty, and found no sign of the dead dog from days before. Moving through the woods to hide their tracks, the three climbed to the western lip of the large pit. They agreed on a spot mostly shadowed by a maple tree, but with clear line-of-sight.
To pass the time they started naming the areas of the pit below them. Passing the binoculars, they took turns attaching monikers to the various rocks and describing how to locate them.
“Okay,” said Stephen, “I’m betting they come around the side of ‘Big Rock’ and then pass by ‘Digger’s Corner’ before settling into ‘The Big Open Spot.’”
“No way!” said Ben. “They have to be coming out from behind ‘Jack’s Pillar’ because their car will be parked back there.”
“It is the best way,” added Jack.
Within an hour they had lost their energy for the stakeout and dug into their lunch supplies. Chewing on sandwiches, and drinking sodas, a shot, fired down in the pit, interrupted lunch. They dropped their food and scrambled to the edge of their lookout.
Down in the pit they saw a solitary man on one knee, pointing his gun off to the right. He looked older than the two men from the other day. Using the binoculars, Ben described the shooter to his friends.
“He’s got big earphones and yellow glasses on,” Ben reported.
“Yeah, ear protection, and those are shooting glasses, I’ve seen those before,” said Jack. “What’s that target look like?”
“Hold on a second,” said Ben. “It’s got three black rings and then the center ring is white. It’s got a yellow spot on it.”
“I bet he’s sighting-in his scope,” said Jack. “That target turns yellow where it’s been hit so he can adjust.”
The man shot again and the boys flinched.
“Could he hit us up here?” asked Stephen.
“If he wanted to,” said Jack. “But I bet he’s okay though. He’s just target shooting.”
“Hey look!” said Stephen, pointing back to the ‘Big Rock,’ “I told you they’d come that way.”
At the far end of the pit they saw the two older boys from the other day. The one they referred to as “Smoker” swaggered ahead of his companion. He approached the crouching shooter and stood behind him as the man was lining up his third shot. Ben couldn’t tell if the target-shooter knew the Smoker was behind him.
“That guy has another brown-paper bag with him,” said Ben, referring to the man hanging back.
“I wonder what they’re talking about?” asked Stephen.
The target-shooter took his third shot, set the safety, placed his gun down on a case at his feet, and removed his earphones while turning to Smoker. They talked and pointed in the direction of the target. Smoker put his hands in his back pockets and tilted his head, while the shooter crossed his arms. The boys were dying to hear the conversation, so they peppered Ben with questions he couldn’t answer.