The Wooden Sea

They’d gotten pretty far down when I heard two sirens go by out on the road, one right after the other. It made me crazy not knowing what the reason was. Normally you didn’t have to use the siren in a Crane’s View police car. Assuming the worst, I decided the best thing was to get these two guys out of here now, finish the job myself and go home.

When I told them neither seemed unhappy about stopping. We stood above the hole looking down into it.

“George, I want you to leave town for a while. Just go and don’t come back for maybe a week or two. Have you got money on you?”

“Yes, but where should I go?”

“I don’t know. I want you and Floon here to just disappear for a while. Call me in a few days. I’ll tell you when the coast is clear to come back. I want to clean up every trace of anything we might have left back at your house. I’ll lock it up when I’m done. Who knows if anyone saw what went on back there.”

“Okay.”

Floon said, “We can go to my apartment in New York.”

“No, that’s a bad idea. Go away for a while. Take a road trip, go somewhere neither of you is known. Go to the ocean and talk about Floon’s plans.”

I remembered that hotel room in Vie

“Floon, you go ahead. I need to tell George a few more things.”

When the other was far enough away not to hear, I put both hands on my friend’s shoulders and moved toward him till we were almost nose to nose.

“Fra

“No, I’m okay. George, listen to me: I know some things about the future. I know that you and Floon are going to work together on something very big. It may take years. Maybe it’s even this project he was telling you about. Do it but be very careful. Watch your ass at all times. Don’t trust him much, no matter how brilliant you think he is.

“Get out of town now and stay gone for a while. I don’t know how things are going to go down around here in the next few days. But I don’t want you anywhere in the vicinity if shit hits the fan. And, George?”

“Yes?” His face was all questions and worry. It broke my heart but there was nothing more I could do about it.

I was about to tell my friend that I loved him but something else came to mind. “Tancretic spredge. Can you remember that name?” I spelled it for him. “Do you know about cold fusion? You do? Great! Then this has something to do with it. And if you can’t find it yet, keep looking because that’s what cold fusion is all about. It’s going to change the world. Tancretic spredge, okay?”

“Okay. When should I call you?”

“In a few days. Wait till things calm down.” I knew he would never be back but I didn’t want to say that and scare him. “Take care of yourself. Take care of Chuck.” I kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a good pal. The best.”

“I’m frightened, Fra

“So am I.”

“You? You’re never frightened of anything.”

“I’m frightened that one day I’m going to lose all this and I won’t have loved it enough. Remember that—love this all the time. Love it for me too when you remember.”

I gave him a slight push and he started away. Chuck danced around his feet, ru

I waited for the Isuzu engine to start but heard nothing. A long wait, too long. But then there it was—faint, so faint, as if the sound came from half a mile away. I imagined them slowly driving out through the trees, avoiding ruts, stumps, stones.

George at the wheel or Floon? George—he knew the town, knew to turn right when they reached the road and go that five winding miles till he hit the parkway.

I maneuvered my way awkwardly down into the hole and started digging. The earth was soft and damp—it gave up a lot to each shovelful. Digging, I busied my mind by imagining their car driving down the road toward the parkway. I tried to remember all of the landmarks along the way—the large copper beech tree that had been struck by lightning. The small white cross by the side of the road marking the spot where a fatal accident had happened years ago. The still pond nearby that was always covered by green scum and water lillies. We’d caught so many frogs there when we were kids. I once pushed Marvin Bruce into it and made sure his head went all the way under.

For no reason my heart began racing. Closing my eyes, I willed then begged it to calm down. After some more crazy uneven beats it eventually quieted. I waited to see if it would stay that way. My chin rested on my chest. Quiet down, heart– everything is going to be all right. I couldn’t trust my body anymore. How much time did I have left? Maybe I should have let them finish digging the grave and drive me back to town. Maybe that would have been a whole lot smarter than what I was attempting to do now.

Opening my eyes I saw the ground at the bottom of the hole. Slowly I lifted another shovelful. It uncovered something. My heart stayed calm but I could feel it beating throughout my body.

Something white down there. Something white covered by moist black dirt. Pushing the shovel up out of the hole, I went down on my knees for a closer look. Tentatively I brushed some dirt aside. More white appeared. It was cloth, cotton, some kind of clothing. A T-shirt? With cupped hands I dug way more dirt until yes, I saw it was a white T-shirt and oh Christ, it’s a body.

The lizard and the shovel said Dig here. There’s a body here. Find it. All the time I’d been moving toward this without knowing it. Dig here.

Dig here.

I carefully brushed away more dirt until the face showed. A child. I knew who it was. It was impossible. I knew who it was. No! Run away, get out of here. His small mouth, nose, the peacefully closed eyes.

It was the boy. The boy I had just sent away, Dreampilot, me. He was dead now and covered with dirt at the bottom of this hole. This hole we had just dug, this hole he had wanted to help dig. He lay dead in it now and I had unearthed him. His face was still warm when I touched it. His lips separated under the pressure of my hand. They were still wet. The bottom one shone.

“No!”

I found a way through it. I found a way through it by going crazy a little but that helped. He was dirty. He was lying under the dirt and needed to be brought out, cleaned. I set to work rescuing him. That wasn’t the correct word but it’s the one that stayed in my mind. Rescue him—get him back to us—back from where he shouldn’t have been in the first place.

I talked to him while I got him out. I talked to him when I lifted him up, had him in my arms, was brushing dirt off him, off his soft child’s skin, his clothes, any dirt I could see. I talked while I lifted his body gently up to the rim of the grave and lay him down next to the shovel.

I climbed out. I felt weak, sick, but strangely exhilarated at the same time. I had this job to do, this rescue mission: Bring the Dreampilot back. All of my own problems must wait till that is accomplished.

I had to stop and rest. I sat down next to his body. I had to hold him to make sure nothing else happened to him. We were too close to the hole. I didn’t like that. It was too close to us. We had to move farther away. The hole was dangerous and deep. No matter how careful you were you could still fall in.

I stood, picked him up, and walked away from there. I think I probably would have kept walking out of the forest if my body hadn’t said stop. It said stop now or I won’t give you anything more. So I did what it demanded—stopped where I was, waited, hoped that it would let me go on. I wasn’t talking to the boy anymore, wasn’t apologizing for not letting him help us dig. I only wanted everything to be silent then.