Stranger in the Woods

The bowstring thrummed after Zach released it, and the arrow zipped toward the target, straight and true as if on an invisible wire. It struck dead center with a satisfying thunk. Zach could only stare in disbelief. His friends did, too.

“You did it!” Shelby’s shriek broke the stunned silence of their group and she thrust her arms up over her head.

“Lucky shot,” Justin said.

Zach turned to Bo, who stood beside him, and the giant nodded and said, “Well done. That is your best effort so far. You are improving quickly.”

They all were. All four of the kids had hit the target with most of their shots that Saturday, though Zach was the first to score a bullseye.

“That was awesome, Zach,” Shelby said. “Can I shoot now? It’s my turn again, isn’t it?”

Bo didn’t answer. Instead, he stared off in the distance and his face stilled with concentration. Then he said, “A thunderstorm is approaching. We should retreat to the cover of my cabin, or you should leave.”

“We’re not ready to go home yet,” Jason said. “Seems like we just got here, and we waited all week for this.”

Bo hustled them from the meadow, back through the woods to his cabin. Once inside, they settled in their usual spots, Bo in his huge chair and Zach and his friends on the long wooden bench. Neither Zach nor the twins had finished reading the books they wanted to loan to Bo, so the giant talked with Shelby about the romance novels she’d loaned him. A lively discussion, as he called it.

Zach thought it was dull as yesterday’s dishwater. Apparently, so did Shelby’s brothers, who tried to nudge the conversation toward something more interesting to them, but it took a couple of questions from Justin to finally turn the talk their way. “Bo, how did you figure out which house was Zach’s when you first gave him the origami swan and the little bears? And why did you pick him, of all people?”

Bo seemed to consider it for a few seconds, and Zach half-expected him to answer with a blank expression, but instead he said, “I performed a casting.”

“What the heck is that?”

“It is an incantation that I learned from the mountain witch. I performed it by placing certain ingredients in a pot of boiling water, along with a few of my tears. I used it to invoke what might be important to me. Not many can do it, but I seem to have a knack for it. Interpreting the meaning of what is revealed can be difficult, though.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Images appear on the water’s surface, and sometimes sounds emanate from the bubbles, snatches of conversation, usually.”

“You have to cry over the pot to make it work?”

“That was the hard part, crying on command.”

Shelby, who was tugging at her lower lip with her thumb and forefinger, said, “So what did this incantation show you?”

“The front of Zach’s house, and then his room.”

“Why is Zach important?”

“I do not know yet.”

“How were you able to find his house? You don’t go into town much, do you? If ever.”

“The house number was visible in the vision. I understand how those work. I felt that it was not far from the forest, but the difficult part was finding the appropriate street without being seen. The first time, I had to go at night and search the nearby neighborhoods, keeping close to the shrubbery and trees. It was a slow, painstaking process. It took most of the dark hours. The second and third times were easier, as I already knew the way and knew what cover was available to shield my approach.”

“How did you get in my house, though?” Zach said. “I’m pretty sure the doors were locked.”

“I asked the one at the front to open for me.”

“You asked? You just say, open please, and it does?”

“Not exactly. It is difficult for me to explain.”

“You brought the saw back to my house, too, didn’t you?”

“I thought it might be important to you.”

Jason waved one hand. “Never mind that. How did you know that me and Justin liked eagles, or that Shelby liked swans?”

“I overheard you, during a subsequent incantation. You were talking in a room, and then you moved to another that had shelves filled with small, gold-colored sculptures.”

“Those are my dad’s trophies,” Zach said.

“I have not seen your father in any of my incantations. Is it impolite of me to ask of his whereabouts?”

“He’s dead,” Zach said.

“I am sorry to hear that. How did he die?” He immediately shook his head. “That is an inappropriate question. Please forgive me. I struggle with your customs, sometimes.”

“It’s okay.” Zach sighed with his cheeks puffed out. “He killed himself.” Zach formed his hand into the shape of a gun and put it to his temple. “Blew his brains out.”

Concern lined the giant’s brow. “With a weapon?”

Zach lowered his chin and his voice. “A pistol.”

“But why would he do such a thing? That is unheard of in my culture.”

“He did it because of me.”

Shelby, who was sitting beside him on the bench, turned toward him. “What?”

Zach’s chin fell all the way to his chest. “Because he was so disappointed in me.”

“Why would he be disappointed in you?” Shelby said. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re awesome.”

“Because I’m a loser,” Zach said quietly.

Jason sprang to his feet and faced him. “No you’re not!”

Zach nodded with his head still down.

Justin faced him, too. “You hit the bullseye today. You’re the only one so far. What does that make us? Are we losers, too? I don’t think so.”

“Me either.” Shelby put her hand on Zach’s shoulder.

He couldn’t look her in the eye. He continued to stare at the wooden floor, made of unfinished planks closely fitted together, clean, but plain. “It’s true, though. You’ve seen his trophies. There are zillions of them, and I’ve never won anything or accomplished anything. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.”

Jason, still standing, raised his voice and threw his arms out wide. “You’re only in the seventh grade! Nobody hardly ever wins stuff that young, ’cept for little leaguers when they get those phony trophies and what all, for just showing up and remembering to bring their baseball gloves.”

“My dad’s got awards from all the way back to the fourth grade, and they’re not those kind. They’re for winning real stuff.”

Shelby crossed her arms and pushed out her lower lip. “Well, your dad was…I don’t know what he was, but he wasn’t normal. I hope that doesn’t hurt your feelings, but that’s what I think.”

The room grew silent for a long time, and Zach could hear Shelby breathing beside him, tight and agitated-sounding.

Thunder rumbled outside. Bo leaned back in his chair and said, “I do not fully understand the ways of humans, and perhaps I never will, but something does not seem right about your response, Zach.”

“I told you, I’m a loser.”

“I do not believe that.”

“I don’t, either,” Jason said. “There’s nothin’ wrong with you. Your dad was a wacko, and I don’t care if you don’t like me saying that or not, ’cause it’s true. He blew his brains out. That’s all. It had nothing to do with you, and probably not your mom, either. He was just messed up. People get that way sometimes.”

The room got quiet again, and Jason sat down beside his brother and crossed his arms, too. “I don’t want to talk about this no more,” he said, and Zach was relieved to hear it.

The silence dragged on for a few more agonizing seconds, hanging over them like a dark cloud, until Justin said, “Um…can we talk about something else, like maybe the day you got here, Bo? Do you remember anything more about it?”

Bo gazed at the ceiling while he seemed to be getting his thoughts together. “As I told you already, it was a very confusing and traumatic experience, and it was over forty-four years ago. Though I have spent many hours ruminating over the incident, it stills seems like a bewildering, frightening jumble of events. I am sorry I cannot be more helpful. Why do you ask?”

“No reason in particular. Just kinda curious. It is a pretty wild thing to happen, if you think about it.”

“I try not to think about it anymore. It only makes me unhappy.”

“I’m sorry, Bo,” Shelby said. “Do you think there’s any way that you could ever go home? I mean, not this cabin, but home home?”

“If you are referring to my home world, then I do not know. I have spoken at length with the mountain witch about it, but she has not been much help, except for the casting incantation and her special remedies.”

“What you need are some scientists,” Justin said. “Like, at a big college somewhere.”

“That’s nuts,” Jason said. “Bo could never go to a college, or anywhere else. People would freak out. Scientists might want to dissect him or lock him up and study him.”

Bo nodded. “Dr. Sizemore warned me about that.”

“See?” Jason poked Justin with an elbow. “And he was a scientist, sort of, or a professor, at any rate. He was probably smarter than all of us put together.”

“He was an intelligent man,” Bo said, “but he had some eccentric ideas, now that I have gotten to know a few other humans and have more perspective on the issue.”

“What do you mean, eccentric?” Zach said.

“I believe that he was obsessed with writing his treatise on Henry David Thoreau, but only in the process. I do not think he really wanted to finish.” Bo gestured at the rustic table in the back near the cast iron stove. “He spent most of his time there, typing furiously, page after page, day after day, producing stacks of manuscript. I still have all of it, packed in a box in the loft.”

“Did you ever read it?” Shelby asked.

“It is dreadfully dull and disjointed, nearly incoherent. Dr. Sizemore may have been a little bit insane.”

“He must’ve been,” Jason said. “He spent twenty-five years in the woods with an alien, just typin’ nonsense.”

“Yes, it was nonsense.” Bo tilted his head to one side and a corner of his mouth pulled up. “I believe that ultimately he did not complete his book because then he would’ve had no excuse to remain here, and I do not think he wished to return to society. He had become an anti-social man, a misanthrope.”

Jason spun in his seat and pointed a finger at Zach. “See? That’s what a loser sounds like. So don’t go callin’ yourself one until you really get that bad, as bad as Dr. Sizemore.”

Zach faced him for a long time without saying anything. He didn’t know how to answer that, so he lowered his gaze for a moment and took a deep breath. Then he looked at Bo and said, “Are you sure you can’t remember anything else about the day you came to Earth? Like, what day of the week it was?” Zach shook his head. “No, forget that. You wouldn’t have known it. Um…how about…do you remember what the guy in the room looked like, at the place you first came into?”

“He was tall, although at the time he did not seem so. Not as tall as I, but taller than most humans, now that I have gotten to know some others.”

“Anything else about him that stood out?”

“He had facial hair. I remember that much.”

Zach stroked his jaw. “You mean a beard?”

“I believe that is what you would call it.”

“Was it a full beard,” Justin said, “or just a goatee?” He touched his chin.

Bo exhaled heavily and his brow wrinkled further. “I cannot remember any more than that. I am sorry.”

“Nothin’ to apologize for,” Jason said. “We understand. It was a crazy time for you. I guess you’re lucky you can remember even that much.”

Later, Zach was playing a game on his new cell phone in the family room while waiting for his mother to finish getting dinner ready. He heard something honking outside in an annoying pulse.

“Honey?” his mother called from the kitchen. “Can you go see what that is?”

Zach left his phone on the couch and went to the living room. He peered out of the front windows to the driveway across the street, where a large white sedan’s taillights were flashing in sync with the honking.

I wonder if anyone tried to break into it. He waited for a few moments to see what would happen next, and soon the front door of the house opened and a middle-aged woman stepped out onto the porch, faced the braying automobile, held something aloft in one hand, and made a pressing motion with her thumb. The honking stopped.

“It was nothing, Mom,” Zach called. “Just the neighbor’s car alarm.”

He headed back to the family room, and as he passed the fireplace, something on the mantle caught his eye — the framed photo of his great-grandmother and her brother, Uncle Nicholas. He paused to regard the old black-and-white picture of his two ancestors standing together in front of the house.

Zach remembered Bo’s description of the unidentified man who was there when Bo first arrived on Earth: He was tall and had a beard.

Like Uncle Nicholas. Zach turned and stared in the direction of the kitchen, where the door to the basement was. And the lab is cramped and has fantastic devices, like Bo said. He rounded his mouth and eyes. I think I know how he got here.

He ran back to the family room, grabbed his cell phone, and tried to call the Rosses’ house, but only got a recorded message saying that the number had been disconnected. They probably couldn’t pay the bill again.

He went to the kitchen and found his mother by the stove, stirring a pot. “Mom, can I ride my bike over to the Rosses’ house real quick?”

“It’s almost dinnertime, honey. Why do you need to go?”

“Uh…I have to pay Shelby back a dollar that I borrowed at school. I promised her I’d do it today, but I forgot.”

She peered into the pot and inspected its contents. “Is she going somewhere tonight where she’ll need it?”

“I don’t think so.” He knew that was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Then it can wait until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday and they’re going somewhere with their mom. They’ll be gone all day.”

“Then you can give it to her at school on Monday.”

“But Shelby probably needs the money. You know how broke they are all the time.”

“Then I’ll run it over there later in my car. I don’t want you riding your bike this late.”

“But….” He exhaled a frustrated breath. “Never mind. I’ll give it to her on Monday.”

Zach stood under the covered walkway and watched the yellow bus disgorge its load of students. He was waiting for Jason, Justin, and Shelby, and as soon as all three of them had come down the steps, Zach waved for them to move aside with him, away from the other students who hurried toward the entrance to the school.

Zach checked to make sure no one was eavesdropping before saying in a low voice, “I think I know where the room is, the one that Bo stumbled into when he came to Earth.” He paused for a moment and caught his breath. “I think it’s at my house. I think it’s the lab.”

“Yeah,” Jason said slowly while his siblings widened their eyes and nodded. “That kinda makes sense. It’s got devices and stuff.”

“And Uncle Nicholas was tall and had a beard.”

“And that’s why Bo saw your house when he did the casting.”

“We need to find out for sure,” Shelby said. “Didn’t you say your uncle left a log of his experiments? He might’ve said something about it in there.”

“My grandfather’s got it, but I don’t know if he’s been reading it or not. He hasn’t talked about it lately.”

“You need to get it from him,” Jason said firmly. “Right away.”

During dinner that night, Zach tried to sound casual when he brought up the subject of the laboratory log. “So,” he said to his grandfather, who was sitting at one end of the table, “have you had a chance to go through Uncle Nicholas’s book?”

“Lordamighty,” he groaned. “Not really. I’ve tried a couple of times, but it puts me right to sleep. It’s the most boring thing I’ve ever tried to read. And the writing is so tiny and crammed together that I can barely make out what he’s saying half the time.”

“Can I have a look at it? You said I could, when we first found it.”

“Zach.” His mother fixed him with a stern look. “How are you going to have time to read through that dreadful thing and still do your homework? And you’ve been trying to read that Civil War history book, too. I think your plate is full right now, don’t you?”

Grandpa raised his eyebrows. “Civil War history? You’re reading that? That’s still a touchy subject around here. Is that for school?”

“No, it’s a…it’s just something I saw in our library and I thought it might be interesting.” He shrugged one shoulder. “You know, it’s our heritage and everything.”

“There are few folks around here who don’t want to admit the war’s over. Fellows like Marty Ross. He’s got a Confederate flag bumper sticker on the back of his truck, and another one that says I’m not racist. I hate everyone.”

“That man is awful,” Zach’s mother said. “I feel bad for the Ross kids because they are related to him.”

“Me too,” Zach said. The conversation had veered so far off the subject of the lab log that Zach wasn’t sure how to tactfully steer it back, so he tried the direct approach. “Grandpa, you never said whether or not you’re going to let me borrow Uncle Nicholas’s book.”

Grandpa faced Zach’s mother and said, “What do you think? Do you have a problem with it?”

“I don’t know.” She pursed her lips. “Zach, you still haven’t said why you’re so interested in it.”

Zach’s mind raced as he tried to think of a plausible reason, besides the real one. “I…he was my relative and everything, and he must’ve been doing important research, don’t you think? I kinda want to know what it was. After all, he did make a living at it. He must’ve come up with at least a few things that were worth something.”

“I guess his work is no longer classified by the government,” Grandpa said. “I don’t think he would’ve left me the book, otherwise.”

“So…is that a yes?”

“Unless your mom says no.”

Zach’s mother gave him a steady look before saying, “Just don’t skip the homework.”

“I won’t.” Zach fought back a smile. “Can I get the book tonight, Grandpa?”

“I ’spose. We’ll go back to my house after dinner and get it. I gotta feed Beepee anyway.”

Beepee, who had been lying quietly beside Zach the whole time, perked up at her name and thumped her tail against the floor. Zach glanced at her and thought, It’s a good thing she can’t talk, because she might know the real reason why I want the book.

Zach blinked his eyes open when he felt something rubbing his shoulder.

His mother’s gentle hand.

“Honey,” she said, “you fell asleep with your light on. Why don’t you put the book away and call it a night?”

He mumbled that he would, and she kissed him on the head and left. He closed Uncle Nicholas’s log, which had been open to page three. He had started reading it as soon as he’d gotten into bed, but hadn’t made it very far. The script was so dense that he had to focus extra hard on it, and the prose wasn’t exactly riveting. The first few entries were dry accounts of what Uncle Nicholas had done in his lab on those particular days, accompanied by inexplicable series of numbers and details about arcane equipment.

Zach set the heavy, leather-bound tome on his bedside table and stared dully at it, wondering how long it would take to find anything useful in it, or if he even would. He realized he could be wasting his time, but something told him that the answer to Bo’s problem lay hidden in those yellowed, musty pages of spiderlike writing.

The Ross kids caught up to Zach the next morning at school by his locker. Jason checked to see if any strangers were listening, and apparently satisfied they weren’t, said in a low voice, “Well?”

“You know what.”

“The book,” Shelby added.

“Oh, that.” Zach knew what they meant all along. He didn’t want to admit that he’d fallen asleep after just two and a half pages of reading the log. “I haven’t found anything in it yet. I’ll look at it again as soon as I can.”

“Right after school,” Justin said firmly.

“Gotta do homework, first, or my mom will ground me.”

“Give us the book, then.”

“Grandpa said not to take it out of the house. It’s really his book, anyway.”

“Then you need to hurry up with your homework and get to it. If there’s nothing in there that matters, we need to know soon, so we can come up with a new plan. We’ve gotta help Bo get home before the mark on his arm turns completely black.”

Zach had to look at his watch twice, just to be sure. Five thirty? Already?

He was sitting at his desk in his room, doing math homework, and he still had a short story to read for English Lit. He turned in his seat and eyed the laboratory log book, still waiting on his bedside table where he’d left it the previous night. I won’t get to look at it today at this rate.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shouted, “Too much homework!”

His mother appeared in his doorway moments later. “Do you need some help?”

“No.” He scowled at his open math book: solve for x in the following equations. “I have to be able to do it myself. We have a test on Friday, and Mrs. Hastings gave us forty problems to solve for tomorrow, and I’ve also got to do some reading for Lit because we might have a quiz.”

“Do you wish I hadn’t signed you up for advanced classes?”

“No, it’s not that. This isn’t any harder than what I was doing last year in my old school, it’s just that my teachers give out assignments all at the same time. It’s like they plan it that way.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with. I’ve going to get dinner ready.”

He waved goodbye without looking at her and turned his attention back to the math book. Get it done, Zach. Get it done.