part0042

The sun chased Drew as he tore through the forest. It split the tree line, shooting spikes of light at him. The Trig test could always be made up. Besides, he’d already been accepted to every school he’d applied to. To hell with the test. He’d never be able to face Leberman again anyway. And Sarah. To hell with the prom. To hell with everything.

He’d go deeper and deeper into the forest until he became hopelessly lost, cut off from civilization.

The awesome tree was menacing, dozens of arms ready to snatch him up and crush him in their grip. His eyes scanned the massive trunk. The initials D.M. and M.M. carved into it. One for him, one for his twin. How long had it been? Six, maybe seven years? Their last trip together to the cave.

He scanned the thick brush. His heart shuddered. The mouth of the cave.

The cave had been a place where he and Marty shared their secrets. A place where he could make the world go away. Its entrance seemed smaller now. Thorny vines warned intruders to stay away. Drew tugged at the vines, pricked his thumb. Blood rose from the wound. Just like it had the first time he had visited this place.

The first time he’d been to the cave, the clearing had been small and squarish, as if landscaped by someone other than Mother Nature. It was edged in a crude tangle of undergrowth that cast long, menacing shadows. One particularly sinister silhouette, resembling a pointing finger, sent its silent warning. Sunlight skipped across a cluster of jagged rocks, skated off their sleek surfaces. Tucked inside the wall of rocks was a hole so perfectly round, it could have been painted on, perhaps by the phantom landscaper.

“This is it.” Marty pulled a flashlight from a raggedy knapsack and shoved it into the cave. Dust filtered slantwise through the shaft of light. Tiny particles rushed toward them, tumbling over one another, 3-D-like, escaping whatever horror lurked in the darkness. The hole swallowed Marty up.

“Come on, Baby Brother.” Marty’s voice echoed through the blackness. “You’re not afraid, are you?” The taunt repeated itself three times.

“Coming.” Drew pushed his face into the hole. He could no longer see the dust particles, but he knew they continued their onward surge, could feel them bouncing off his cheeks. He fumbled for his flashlight, clicked it on, and inched forward. The ceiling brushed his crew cut hair.

He called out to Marty. Nothing. Again. Nothing.

Panic rattled him, like the time Marty locked him inside that old refrigerator in Old Man Riley’s junkyard. It was only after Drew stopped screaming that Marty had opened the door. Drew wondered if Marty had let him out for fear that he’d killed his brother. But then, why had he been grinning from ear to ear?

The flashlight cut a swath, connected with a pair of eyes. Drew yelped.

“Shut up, you idiot,” Marty said. “You’re not wimping out, are you?”

“No,” Drew said. “Let’s just go. There’s nothing here anyway.”

“Crybaby. Anyhow, there’s a hole in the roof right around the corner. C’mon.” Splinters of light trickled in, connecting the fragments of Marty’s face. “Here we are.”

“Where’s here?”

“My secret hiding place. This is where I come to think.”

Must not come here often. “What do you think about?”

“Lots of things. And nothing at all.”

The air was damp, as if a giant sponge had been squeezed out above them. The walls were wider and higher here, wallpapered in a greenish moss. Drew pointed his flashlight at a rusty metal toolbox propped against a wall. “What’s that?”

“A surprise,” Marty said. “Have a seat. You’re my first guest.”

Drew dropped his backpack and plunked down. Marty sat cross-legged before him, dragged the box over and pulled out a torn magazine. He tossed it at Drew. “Welcome to manhood, Baby Brother.”

Drew opened the forbidden book, skipped over the pages with writing on them, stopped to gaze at the photographs of women in odd positions. Fleshy pillows and dark triangles filled the pages. Drew was falling in love with a brunette on page thirty-two when Marty snatched the book away. “Give it back!”

“Later,” Marty said. He reached into his knapsack and produced a pocketknife. He flipped it open, ran his finger across the blade.

“Marty, careful. It’s gonna cut you.”

“It can’t do anything.”

“What are you gonna do with it?”

Their eyes locked. “What do you think I’m gonna do with it?” Marty asked.

Drew shrugged. Kill me like you killed Molly Sheehan’s cat?

“I’ve called you here today to unite us in brotherhood.”

“A pact,” Marty said. “A blood pact. Uniting two beings into one. Some shit like that. Saw it in a movie.” Marty turned the knife slowly, caressed it. “Give me your hand.”

“Don’t be. You’re my baby brother. Would I hurt you?”

Drew lied. “I guess not.”

“Then give me your hand. You’re my flesh and blood. We have to join our blood so our flesh will be one.”

Marty put on his shut-up-and-stop-asking-questions face. “Because, stupid, if one of us dies, he can go on living in the other.”

“Nobody’s gonna die.”

“We’re all gonna die someday. Tell you what. I’ll go first.” Marty slid the metal shaft across his left palm. A slash of red appeared. Marty sucked on the wound. He pulled his hand away, exposing a bloody grin. “Your turn,” he said.

“No way. You’re crazy.”

“Don’t you care about me?”

“Course I do,” Drew said, “but…”

“Forget it! I thought we had a special bond, but I guess I was wrong.”

Guilt was Marty’s greatest weapon. Worked every time. “Okay,” Drew said. “But do it quick.”

“You don’t have to look if you don’t want to.”

Drew felt his body spasm. His palm yawned open into a horrific scream, spit blood over his cupped hand, painted the dirt canvas. The cut was deeper than Marty’s. Drew clenched his hand into a tight fist. This only increased the throbbing.

Marty gripped Drew’s wounded hand and squeezed. Then he whispered three words that dug deep into Drew’s head, stamped themselves permanently on his brain, remaining dormant for decades, until they would be uttered once again.

“Blood brothers. Forever.”

Drew applied pressure to his thumb and the bleeding stopped. He then finished clearing the entrance and squeezed into the dark corridor. Without a flashlight, visibility was zero. But he wasn’t afraid. Nothing could compare to the horror of this afternoon. He swatted tears from his eyes, angry that he even cared enough to cry.

He crawled through the blackness. Something crawled across his hand. Where was that hole in the ceiling? Somebody could seal his eyelids shut and paint them black and he’d still have more visibility than he did right now. At last, a flicker of light invaded his world of darkness. Vines crisscrossed over the hole in the ceiling, an army of snakes. Drew crouched in the cold, cramped room that now felt oddly comforting.

He let his eyes adjust to the dark. The old rusted toolbox. Right where they had left it. He flipped it open and pulled out the flashlight Marty had had the good sense to stash there.

He rifled through the contents. Two Playboy magazines. A half-eaten roll of Necco Wafers. A hardened stick of Juicy Fruit. A deck of cards (missing the Ace of Spades, he recalled). A folded up piece of paper. He removed the square of paper and unfolded it. Marty’s childlike handwriting decorated the sheet.