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  "But it's summer," Timmy said. "We've got stuff to do. Important stuff. We're not babies. We can watch out for ourselves."

  "Even still," Elizabeth insisted, "you're not to go anywhere by yourself from now onuntil the police find out what' s happened. No going off to the woods or the dump or the pond, and no riding down to the newsstand, either."

  "But I've got to go to the newsstand every Wednesday, or I'll miss the new comics."

  "You've got enough comics," Randy said. "Won't hurt you to miss a few. You should save your money, anyway. In four more years you' re going to want a car and " Timmy cut him off. "If I miss the new issues, then I'll have gaps in my collection, and won't find out what happens next."

  "I'm not going to argue with you, Timmy. We've all been under a strain lately sincewell, since Grandpa's death, and I've tried to take it easy on you. But don' t fight me on this."

  "It isn't fair." Timmy crossed his arms over his chest and sank back into the cushions.

  "Why should we be punished just because some other people are missing?"

  "You're not being punished," Elizabeth said. "We're just worried about your safety, is all. We're worried, about youboth of you. I bet Doug' s mother will say the same thing. Try to see it our way. It 's for your own good."

  Timmy stifled a laugh. There was his old friend, his invisible accomplice, U'rown Goode, making another appearance.

  "I've got to ride my bike past Bowman's Woods to get here," Doug said. "What should I do?"

  "Well," ElizaBeth said, "for the time being, maybe your mom can drive you over here when you want to visit?"

  "I don't think so, Mrs. Graco. My mom doesn't leave the house much."

  "Oh. Well, maybe Timmy's father can pick you up and take you back."

  "Wait a second," Randy said. "I've got to work."

  "Well then, you can make special trips when you're home." Randy started to protest, but Timmy cut him off again.

  "This sucks."

  "Language," his mother warned.

  "Well," Timmy said, "it does suck. Our whole summer is ruined because of Ronny, Jason, and Steve."

  "Timothy Edward Graco!" Elizabeth's voice boomed across the living room. "Those boys are missing, and Lord only knows what' s happened to them. You should try to be a little more understanding and sympathetic.

  We raised you better than that."

  "Sorry," he said, feeling anything but.

  "You should be."

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  He forged ahead. "Well, what about Barry? Can we still hang out at his house? He's right over the hill, and we only have to go through our backyard to get there."

  "You can still play with Barry," Randy said. "But no further until we say otherwise. I mean it."

  "And we can help him work in the cemetery?"

  Randy sighed. "Yes, as long as you're not by yourself. But no further. Understand me?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Doug? How about you?"

  "Yes, Mr. Graco. You don't have to worry about me. If some sick perv tries to snatch me, I'll kick him in the balls and run!"

  Elizabeth gasped. Randy struggled to suppress his laughter. A moment later, all four of them started laughing. Privately, Timmy wondered why he got hollered at for saying

  "sucks" but Doug could get away with "balls." But he didn 't ask. It was good to hear Doug laughing, especially after last night.

  "What do you boys want for breakfast," Elizabeth asked when she'd regained her composure.

  "There's Count Chocula or Trix, or oatmeal."

  Both boys made a face at the mention of oatmeal.

  "Or, I guess I could make pancakes."

  "Pancakes," Doug said. "Yes, please. That would be great. Can you put blueberries in them, too?"

  She smiled. "I think we can do that. It just so happens I bought some at the store this week."

  "Awesome."

  Timmy raised his hand without much enthusiasm. "Me too, I guess. With bacon."

  "That makes three of us," Randy said. "With eggs." While she cooked, Timmy and Doug watched The Transformers while Randy got ready for work. They ate, and Timmy listened to his parents talk without really hearing them, and his mother ' s blueberry pancakes, usually his favorite, had no taste. The new set of rules and boundaries really chafed at him. Sure, unbeknownst to his parents, they still had the Dugout to play in, but that somehow wasn ' t enough. The most desirable horizons were the ones you were forbidden to reach, and the thrill of exploration was what lay beyond those known borders. He thought about Doug ' s map, useless for all intents and purposes now. The blank space all around the edges would stay blank now. Doug chatted with Randy and Elizabeth, and ate three helpings of pancakes. Timmy sulked. He tried very hard to ignore the fact that his best friend' s mom was having sex with him, and that people were missing, probably abducted by some serial killer, and that his summer vacation was not turning out to be a vacation at all, but a prison sentence. It was like one of the storm clouds from the previous night had settled over him, dark and foreboding.

  It felt like he was in a tunnel and the walls were closing in. He shivered.

  After breakfast, Randy left for work and the boys went outside to play. They grew bored after an hour and decided to go to Barry's house and see what he was doingafter assuring Elizabeth that they ' d stray no farther and come straight home when they were done. They left their bikes behind, and doing so filled them both with sadness. What good was a BMX

  with mag wheels and thick tires and racing stripes if you couldn ' t ride it anywhere and show it off? It was like Batman without a Batmobile or Han Solo without a Millennium Falcon.

  As they trudged through the backyard and up the hill toward Barry' s, Timmy picked up a stick, left over from the storm, and in a fit of anger snapped it in half and tossed the pieces Page 71

  aside.

  "So much for going tubing. This bites. This whole summer just keeps getting worse and worse."

  "Could be much worse," Doug said. He was still wearing Randy's old shirt, and had put on his jeans from the day before, along with a pair of Timmy's socks.

  "How could it be any worse?"

  "The police could be trying to find out who beat Catcher, instead."

  "True. I guess they've got more important things to worry about now."

  "Or it could be us that was missing."

  "Yeah…"

  "I just hope Ronny and those guys are okay," Doug said. "I'm a little worried about what could have happened to them."

  Timmy stopped walking. "Are you crazy?"

  "What? I'm concerned, is all."

  "Doug, how can you say that? Are you forgetting about everything they' ve done to you?

  The pink bellies and the wedgies and swirlies? How they made you wear girl 's underwear on your head that time on the school bus? Or how Ronny used to squeeze your… well, your tits, until you cried?"

  "I don't have tits," Doug said. "And I cried because it hurt. And no, I haven't forgotten about any of those things. How could I?"

  "Exactly. So why worry about them?"

  "I don't know. I just do."

  "Those guys are jerks. They picked on you constantly."

  "Yeah, they're jerks, but that doesn't mean I want some crazy guy to kidnap them and do stuff to them. That's wrong, man. Nobody deserves that."

  They started walking again. The wet grass soaked through their sneakers. They passed by Randy Graco' s grapevines, which had been flattened by the storm. To their right, at the top of the hill, the Wahl 's cherry tree was spilt in half, the unfortunate victim of a lightning strike.

  "I just hope they come home safe." Doug stepped over the drooping vines. "That's all I'm saying."

  "They deserve whatever happens to them," Timmy said. "Serves them right. I don't care."

  "Yes you do," Doug said. "You're just pissed off right now."

  "So? I'm serious. Why should I care what happens to those assholes?"

  "You cared about Catcher when Barry started beating
on him, and he was just as mean to us as Ronny and those guys were."

  "Catcher didn't know any better. He's just a dog, and he was just doing what all Dobermans do. They're attack dogs. It's instinct."

  "Not necessarily. The guy that lives next door to me used to have a Doberman, and it was nice, because he'd trained it to be nice. Catcher was mean because Mr. Sawyer didn' t teach him any different."

  "So Ronny, Jason, and Steve's parents taught them to be assholes?"

  "Maybe." Doug paused, choosing his words carefully. "Look, with everything I told you last night, I know I' ve got problems. But when Barry started kicking Catcher the other day, who did he remind you of?"

  He shrugged, and then mumbled, "His father." Timmy wondered how his friend could be so nice, how he could keep such a positive attitude with all that had happened to him. But even so, Doug was right. He was about to admit that he 'd been thinking the same thing, that maybe grownups were the real monsters, when they reached Barry' s house. Timmy decided to wait until later.

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  They slowly approached the front door. The window shades were still closed, and the house looked dark.

  "Go ahead," Doug whispered. "Knock."

  "You knock. It's your turn. I knocked last time." Doug rapped on the door twice. They heard shuffling sounds inside. Then the door opened, the rusty hinges squeaking. Mrs. Smeltzer peered out at them through one good eye. The other one was swollen shut and looked black and purple. Timmy and Doug gasped in surprise, but she just smiled.

  "Hi, boys."

  Timmy thought she sounded sadand maybe a little relieved as well.

  "Um, hi Mrs. Smeltzer. Is Barry home?"

  She nodded toward the cemetery. When she tilted her head, Timmy noticed that another pair of new earrings sparkled in her ears.

  "He's out helping his dad. You might not want to go over there this morning, though."

  "Why not?" Timmy stared at her black eye.

  "Well, Mr. Smeltzer didn't get much sleep last night. He was out late. He's a little grumpy." Neither of them replied. Doug stared at his feet. Timmy couldn't look away.

  "You okay, Timmy?"

  Am I okay? he thought. You're the one with the black eye, lady.

  "Yeah, I'm fine. Didn't sleep much last night, either. The storm kept me awake." She smiled at them again. "Well, I'll tell Barry that you stopped by."

  "Thanks, Mrs. Smeltzer."

  She closed the door, and they turned away and started back down the sidewalk.

  "Jesus," Timmy whispered. "Did you see that shiner?"

  "See it? How could I miss it? The whole side of her face is swollen up. What do we do?" Timmy sighed. "Nothing we can do, except maybe tell my parents, and if we do that, Barry might get pissed at us, or they might say we can' t hang out with him anymore. Let 's just not think about it. We'll go find Barry. Make sure he's okay. If he doesn't have to work, then maybe we can explore the tunnel today after all. If not, tKen we'll just hang around inside the Dugout until he' s finished."

  "Maybe we better not. Mrs. Smeltzer said Barry's dad was in a bad mood. The way her face looked, I'd say she was right."

  "Screw him. I'm in a bad mood, too."

  He crossed the road. Doug followed after a moment's hesitation. They passed by the newly installed no trespassing sign and went around the side of the church.

  "I noticed something else," Timmy said. "She had on another new pair of earrings. I'm telling you, man, something weird's going on. Something more than just him hitting them."

  "But, like you said, there's nothing we can do. Barry's dad is a grownup. We're kids." Timmy kicked a stone. It shot across the church parking lot, careened off a telephone pole, and rolled away.

  "He's no adult. He's a monster. Barry should tell somebody."

  "Maybe he's afraid to."

  They reached the rear of the church and started down the cemetery's center road. There was no sign of Barry or his father, and they didn' t hear the sound of lawnmowers or anything else. This morning, even the birds and insects seemed silent. It was almost as if all the wildlife had abandoned the grounds.

  "Why would Barry be afraid to tell?" Timmy lowered his voice, in case Mr. Smeltzer or Barry were within earshot. "He' d be safe. Him and his mom both. The cops would lock his old man up in a heartbeat."

  "Maybe he's embarrassedlike I was." Doug sighed. "I still can't believe I told you last Page 73

  night."

  "Are you sorry that you did?"

  "No." Doug hesitated. "But I am afraid that you'll tell somebody. Your parents, or Reverend Moore."

  Timmy clapped him on the shoulder. "I promised that I wouldn't tell, and I won't. But you've gotta do something, man. You can' t just stay there and let her keep doing this to you. It 's not right. She's no better than Barry's dad."

  "I know, I know. It's justshe's all I have left, Timmy. I can't just leave her."

  "But you have to. You have to get out of there."

  "I can't. I know it's wrong. I know it' s doing something bad, like the time we put the shotgun shell on the railroad tracks to see what would happen when the train ran over it." Timmy shook his head. "It's a little worse than that, Doug."

  "I know. All I'm saying is that I know it's wrong, but I can't stop it, other than locking my door."

  "Do you like it? Do you want it to keep happening?" Doug looked horrified. "No. Of course I don't like it. I hate it. I told you that."

  "Then get some help."

  "I can't. It wouldn't be"

  "She's a monster."

  "She's also my mother!"

  He shoved Timmy, hard. Timmy stumbled backward, almost tripping over a low gravestone.

  Doug advanced on him, meaty fists raised in defiance.

  "She's my mother and don't you dare call her that, you jerk. Don't you dare!"

  "Hey"

  "Shut up. It's not for you to say."

  Timmy held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. Take it easy. I'm sorry. Seriously. I shouldn't have said anything."

  Doug' s face had turned reddish purple, and the veins stood out in his neck. Another one throbbed on his forehead, pulsing beneath the skin. He dropped his fists to his sides, clenching and unclenching his fingers. His jaw hung slack. His breath came in rapid, labored gasps. He turned his back and walked away.

  "You okay?" Timmy asked.

  Without looking back, he nodded, still hyperventilating. His shoulders sagged.

  "Where you going? You're not going home, are you?" Shaking his head, Doug bent over, hands on his knees, and threw up. Timmy didn' t know if he should help him or just give him some space, so he just stood there, watching.

  "Don't bring it up any more, Timmy."

  He took a few more steps and then vomited again.

  "Doug," Timmy said, "I really am sorry, man. I didn't mean to piss you off."

  "I'm sorry, too." Doug stood back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  "Just let me deal with it. Okay? It's my problem and I'll deal with it. I don' t want people finding out. They pick on me already. Can you imagine what they 'll say if they find out about this? Can you imagine what they' d do to me? To my mom? I don 't have anything. My dad's gone. All I have left is her, and even if she is… disgusting, I still don't want to lose her. Can you understand that?"

  Timmy nodded, somewhat reluctantly.

  "So let me handle it my way, okay?"

  "Okay."

  "You promise? You won't say any more?"

  "Yeah, man. Sure."

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  They walked on in silence, past the debris left behind in the wake of two stormsthe thunderstorm from the night before, and the emotional storm brewing between them. They passed earthworms wiggling helplessly at the bottom of rain puddles, and graveside floral arrangements that had been blown over by the storm, their petals and stems scattered across the cemetery. A green Styrofoam wreath lay in the middle of the road. Timmy picked it up, examined it, then tossed it aside like a Frisb
ee. They avoided two mourners, who were gathered around a single gray stone, and nodded hello to a jogger, Mrs. Nelson, who lived on the other side of the Wahls and gave out the best candy on Halloween. Apparently, Mrs. Nelson had ignored the no trespassing sign as well. Timmy wondered aloud if Mr. Smeltzer had hollered at her about it.

  But other than the graveside visitors and the jogging woman, the cemetery was deserted.

  Finally, they spotted Barry and his father. They were using a chain hoist to lift a fallen tombstone.

  "Wow," Doug said, speaking for the first time since their argument. "The storm must have been even stronger than we thought."

  Timmy nodded, only halflistening. He was studying Clark Smeltzer' s posture, looking for clues to his demeanor. All signs pointed to bad. Barry moved like a whipped dog, and even from this distance, they could hear Clark shouting orders at him.

  "We can' t get to the Dugout with them working down there." Timmy picked a blade of grass and put it in his mouth, chewing the tip. "Mr. Smeltzer would see us for sure." Neither Barry nor his father had spotted them yet. They were too absorbed in their task. The mourners had gotten back into their car and left, and Mrs. Nelson was all the way on the other side of the cemetery now.

  "Come on," Timmy said. "Let's sneak over to the shed while they're busy. We'll take a look at the cave entrance."

  "What if he catches us? If we're down inside the tunnel, we might not hear him coming."

  "We'll hear him. Besides, it's not like we can actually go inside it right now, anyway. We promised Barry that we' d wait for him. I just want to check it out a little more."

  "Okay," Doug agreed, still sounding unsure.

  They cut through the grass, ducking behind tombstones and monuments, trying to stay out of Clark Smeltzer' s line of sight. Timmy noticed more sunken graves, and when they passed by his grandfather ' s plot, he was dismayed to see that the dirt had fallen in even more. For a moment, he imagined himself exploring the caverns below, and stumbling across his grandfather 's coffinor even a body. A hideous image, but one he'd seen a thousand times before in the pages of House of Secrets and The Witching Hour. They were almost to the shed when Mrs. Nelson circled round again, this time on the road that ran between the old portion of the cemetery and the new one. They hid behind a monument until she 'd passed by, and then darted out and crossed the path. They ducked behind the shed and knelt at the window.