Half a mile north of the L, surrounded by a natural amphitheater of pines and granite, two small cement-lined pools lie side by side. They are all that remain of a health spa from the previous century. Fed by an underground reservoir of percolating water, their temperatures are constant, the lower pool three degrees cooler than its partner. The springs are a closely-kept mountain secret, with outsiders warned by the locals that they are owned by a group of ex-cons who don’t take well to strangers.
Over the years an unwritten schedule has developed. Weekdays mornings and the entire weekend are open to the mountain community; weekday afternoon and evenings are reserved for Moetown, plus The Gimp.
Of the Moetown citizens, William was the springs’ primary frequenter, hiking up to them most days, either with company or a book. If The Gimp wanted to use the springs, Josh met him on the turnout above the springs and, with the terrain too rough for a wheelchair, slung him over his back and hiked down. If the two of them were alone or the other bathers were men, he stripped down and joined The Gimp and the others. If there were women there, he stayed, seated and clothed, on the granite slab and waited until The Gimp was ready to leave.
On Paul’s first day in the camp after the POV episode, the two brothers holed up in his trailer, talking through lunch and into the afternoon. Finally, around four, the two changed into their running shorts and set out on a long run. The route Josh chose was a torturous eleven-mile route that he generally ran only once a month, and then alone. At the end of the run, the two walked with difficulty up to the springs.
“You boys look like hell,” William called to them as they breached the bushes. The water up to his chin, he leaned his head back so that he could read the paperback that he held clear of the water. “Was he punishing you, Paul?” He lowered his gaze to look at them. “Were you punishing him, Josh?”
“William, what a pleasant surprise.” Josh slipped out of his running clothes and submerged himself in the pool above William.
“So are you two pals again?” William said when Josh surfaced.
Josh looked at him evenly. “We never weren’t. Excuse the double negative.”
“Just this once.” He turned to Paul. “So how long are you going to be hiding out with us?”
“Two weeks, three tops. Jerry says he can use my absence to put the heat on the Michelob execs.”
An easy silence settled over the pool. William went back to his book and the brothers let the water leech the pain from their legs and upper body. They stared up into the late August sky and its thin blue texture, drained of its depth by weeks of steady heat. The trees surrounding the springs were thin and crisp, motionless in the dry air.
Finally Josh hoisted himself out and dressed quickly, slipping into his running shoes without putting on socks. “I told Carol I’d help her with dinner,” he said and was gone.
Paul joined William in the lower pool and settled in. William put his book down but stared up into the sky for over five minutes.
“You guys were in the trailer for a long time.”
“We had a lot to talk about.”
“You think the People piece is the end of it?”
“I hope so. He was pissed about the photo of the two of us as kids, wanted me to find out who leaked it. He’s worried that it might be someone from the gang, which would raise a new set of questions.”
William cupped his hand and let the water leak through his fingers. “What kind of gang are we talking about?”
“It wasn’t anything serious. Just a bunch of punks hanging together for company and for our own defense. And we protected the neighborhood, of course.”
“Not to put too fine a point on it, but are we talking about extortion?”
Paul winced slightly. “More or less. It was a neighborhood tradition. The shopkeepers and business owners had always paid someone, just to keep the more serious gangs off their back. This time it was us.”
Paul looked over at William, who kept his mouth shut and his eyes fixed on the trees. “I’m not defending it. But when you’re seventeen and you’ve got yourself and a fifteen-year-old brother to take care of, a paper route won’t do the trick.”
William’s eyes stayed on the trees. “So that’s where he learned to fight like that.”
“That was prison. Back in Baltimore he wasn’t much of a fighter. Not unless he was pushed. Tell you the truth, if it hadn’t been my gang, he’d never have gotten involved.”
“Your gang?”
“Yeah. I started it once we came back from our last foster home. And I don’t apologize for it. It kept us in rent and food.” He paused. “The only thing I’d have done different…” His voice trailed off.
“Would be what?”
“I’d have kept Josh out of it.” His gaze joined William’s, off in the trees. “I’d have protected him better.”