Blood Brothers Page 0,7
her?"
"I don't know and I don't care. I just want to get away from here."
Cal leaped up, grabbed his pants. Before he could wiggle into them, he saw Gage from behind. "Holy cow. Your back is messed up bad."
"The old man got wasted last night. It's no big deal."
"Dude." Fox walked around to get a look. "That's gotta hurt."
"The water cooled it off."
"I've got my first aid kit-" Cal began, but Gage cut him off.
"I said no big deal." He grabbed his shirt, pulled it on. "If you two don't have the balls to go back in and see what happens, we might as well move on."
"I don't have the balls," Cal said in such a deadpan, Gage snorted out a laugh.
"Then put your pants on so I don't have to wonder what that is hanging between your legs."
Fox broke out the Little Debbies, and one of the six-pack of Coke he'd bought at the market. Because the incident in the pond and the welts on Gage's back were too important, they didn't speak of them. Instead, hair still dripping, they resumed the hike, gobbling snack cakes and sharing a can of warm soda.
But with Bon Jovi claiming they were halfway there, Cal thought of what he'd seen. Why had he been the only one? How had her face been so clear in the murky water, and with his glasses tucked in his shoe? How could he have seen her? With every step he took away from the pond, it was easier to convince himself he'd just imagined it.
Not that he'd ever, ever admit that maybe he'd just freaked out.
The heat dried his damp skin and brought on the sweat. It made him wonder how Gage could stand having his shirt clinging to his sore back. Because, man, those marks were all red and bumpy, and really had to hurt. He'd seen Gage after Old Man Turner had gone after him before, and it hadn't ever, ever been as bad as this. He wished Gage had let him put some salve on his back.
What if it got infected? What if he got blood poisoning, got all delirious or something when they were all the way to the Pagan Stone?
He'd have to send Fox for help, yeah, that's what he'd do-send Fox for help while he stayed with Gage and treated the wounds, got him to drink something so he didn't-what was it?-dehydrate.
Of course, all their butts would be in the sling when his dad had to come get them, but Gage would get better.
Maybe they'd put Gage's father in jail. Then what would happen? Would Gage have to go to an orphanage?
It was almost as scary to think about as the woman in the pond.
They stopped to rest, then sat in the shade to share one of Gage's stolen Marlboros. They always made Cal dizzy, but it was kind of nice to sit there in the trees with the water sliding over rocks behind them and a bunch of crazy birds calling out to each other.
"We could camp right here," Cal said half to himself.
"No way." Fox punched his shoulder. "We're turning ten at the Pagan Stone. No changing the plan. We'll be there in under an hour. Right, Gage?"
Gage stared up through the trees. "Yeah. We'd be moving faster if you guys hadn't brought so much shit with you."
"Didn't see you turn down a Little Debbie," Fox reminded him.
"Nobody turns down Little Debbies. Well..." He crushed out the cigarette, then planted a rock over the butt. "Saddle up, troops."
Nobody came here. Cal knew it wasn't true, knew when deer was in season these woods were hunted.
But it felt like nobody came here. The two other times he'd been talked into hiking all the way to the Pagan Stone he'd felt exactly the same. And both those times they'd started out early in the morning instead of afternoon. They'd been back out before two.
Now, according to his Timex, it was nearly four. Despite the snack cake, his stomach wanted to rumble. He wanted to stop again, to dig into what his mother had packed in the stupid basket.
But Gage was pushing on, anxious to get to the Pagan Stone.
The earth in the clearing had a scorched look about it, as if a fire had blown through the trees there and turned them all to ash. It was almost a perfect circle, ringed by oaks and locus and the bramble of wild berries. In its center was a single rock that