The Dead Boys

“I was looking for you!” Teddy blurted out, squirming beneath Albert’s weight.

“Shhh . . . as in, shut up,” Albert said. “They’ll hear you.”

Albert cast his guilty eyes downward. “The ones who want you to stay.”

“Richland isn’t all sun,” Albert continued. “There’s another side. A dark side.”

“And you’re part of it,” Teddy said, jabbing the chubby boy in the chest. Suddenly, he was furious with Albert. “You’re a fat, dead, stinking liar!”

“Almost dead, then. Whatever. You tried to lure me into the water. You picked me out.”

“That’s not a warning,” Teddy snapped. “‘Hey, look out, I’m not just a chunky Star Wars fan, I’m dead. And I’m trying to make you dead too.’ That’s a warning.”

“You disappeared in the river. They never found you. That sounds like dead to me.”

Albert looked away, staring out across the water. After a while, he spoke, as much to himself as to Teddy. “I live it over and over, but I never quite get dead. The bullies come, I go into the river, my feet get tangled in sunken branches, and I show up here.”

It was hard to be mad at someone who had to die over and over. It sounded lonely and sad. “So the branches grab you?” Teddy asked softly.

“They still have me. I can’t get loose.” Albert grew quiet, and Teddy put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

They stood on the shore in silence for a moment until Teddy felt the wind change direction. He looked up and saw a wall of swirling sand blotting out the sky, a tan curtain sweeping toward them.

Upstream, Teddy saw shadowy dunes rising from the bank of the river like a wall. Tumbleweeds taller than himself began to bounce past, threatening to knock them into the water.

“We’re wasting time,” Albert said, his tone suddenly more serious than Teddy had ever heard it before. “The tree is near, and the others are coming. You’re fresh, full of life. It can feed on you for a long time before we have to start taking turns feeding it again. You’ve got to get away before they find you.”

Albert pointed straight into the teeth of the swirling dust. “Back through the storm.”

Albert frowned. “Look, I feel bad that you’re here. I really didn’t mean it. I want you to go back and have a life.”

As Teddy debated what to do, the long, thin arm he’d seen before in the water slithered toward the shore, groping for them. Teddy now saw that it was not an arm, but a gnarled, clawlike branch.

“Yep, it’s coming,” Albert said without looking toward the shore. “And I’m gonna catch it for this. Go. Don’t turn around. Don’t stop.”

Albert smiled. “You go. This time I’ll try to hold them off, buddy.” He stooped and picked up a rock. “You’re almost out of time,” Albert said, watching the branch in the river out of the corner of his eye.

Teddy cringed as he saw the branch writhe, at first curling up like an injured snake, then exposing more of its length, twisting up from under the water. It was huge, and there were more arms than just the one that crawled to the shore.

“A few seconds,” Albert said. “That’s all the time I can buy you.”

Watching the water churn, Teddy saw dozens of grasping wooden claws erupt from the surface of the river. They stretched out like tentacles, reaching for him and Albert.

Teddy turned to flee, grabbing Albert to drag him along. At first he thought Albert was resisting him, but then he saw that his companion was actually being pulled into the river by the spindly wooden hands. Within seconds, his feet and thick calves were submerged.

As Albert slid into the water, the skin on his arms and legs began to contort and bloat. His face turned purple as the woody fingers of the serpentine branches slid up over his shoulders to pull him down. He fought to keep his head above the water, but it didn’t matter—he was drowning before Teddy’s eyes, just as he had thirty years ago.