The Wildman - By Rick Hautala Page 0,14

was afraid that—any second now—pieces of the sky were going to break off and come crashing down on him.

“You okay there kid?” the man beside him asked. His hand rested lightly on Jeff’s shoulder, but his voice seemed to be coming from someplace far, far away.

Jeff turned and looked at him, but it felt as though his head didn’t stop moving. It kept turning, spinning around on his neck like a child’s top. The world became a kaleidoscope of flashing blue light, smeared faces, dark figures of people moving around him, and tall, black trees that writhed like snakes around him. Shimmering pools of bright yellow and white light dazzled his vision. And then, with a loud whooshing roar, everything went black.

* * *

Some time later—he had no idea when—Jeff regained consciousness.

He was lying on something soft, but he knew it wasn’t his bunk in the tent or his bed back at home. When his vision cleared a bit, he found himself looking up at Mr. Farnham’s face. He was bending over him with an expression of genuine concern.

“Hello there,” Farnham said in a whisper. “How are you feeling?”

Jeff licked his lips to answer but couldn’t. His mouth was dry, and when he tried to speak, the only sound that came out was a strangled croak.

“Would you like a sip of water?”

This was a woman’s voice, and Jeff finally realized he was in the camp infirmary. Mrs. Stott, the camp nurse, appeared at the bedside and held a glass with a straw up to his mouth. Jeff pursed his lips and sucked, amazed at how refreshing the tiny sip of water was on his parched throat.

“Whoa. Not too much,” Mrs. Stott said. She slipped the straw out of his mouth before he could protest.

“Wha—what happened?” Jeff asked.

“You fainted,” Farnham said. For an instant, his expression hardened, but then he sighed and rubbed his forehead, wincing as though suffering some deep, internal pain.

“You know,” Farnham continued, “you shouldn’t have gone out there. I was hoping the police would take care of things so you campers wouldn’t have to see what was going on.”

“What was going on?” Jeff asked. He was surprised that he would actually challenge an adult—the camp director, no less. “What happened to Jimmy?”

Mr. Farnham looked away and shook his head slowly from side to side.

“That’s up to the authorities to determine,” he said. “My responsibility is to protect my campers.”

Protect us like you did Jimmy? Jeff wanted to ask, but he remained silent. It frightened him to see the obvious confusion and hurt in Mr. Farnham’s expression.

“I have a lot of phone calls to make tonight and tomorrow so you boys can go home.” Farnham paused and took a breath. When swallowed, his throat made a funny gulping sound. “This has been a terrible, a terrible thing, but we can all pull together and get through it. Right?”

Not entirely sure why Mr. Farnham needed his reassurance, Jeff nodded slightly. The slight motion sent a blaze of pain through his neck.

“Mrs. Stott will take good care of you, Jeff. I have a lot of things to attend to.” Farnham reached down and patted Jeff on the shoulder before turning to leave.

Raising himself up and supporting himself on his elbows, Jeff watched Farnham walk out of the infirmary. The spring on the screen door made a loud twang as it stretched out and then pulled the door back, slamming it shut with a bang as loud as a gun.

Somehow—although he hadn’t been there to see or hear it—Jeff associated that sound with the slamming of Jimmy Foster’s coffin lid as it locked away one of his best friends in total, eternal darkness.

With these and other disturbing thoughts in his mind, Jeff closed his eyes and let out a long, slow moan. Falling back onto the bed, he settled his head on the pillow. The single clearest thought he had was—

There … at last … I finally saw a real dead person.

CHAPTER THREE

Arrival

“So you’re not even a little bit creeped out about going back there?”

Standing in his kitchen, Jeff hunched his shoulder to tuck the phone against his ear as he poured himself a generous shot of rum. This was his second one tonight. He never had a second shot, but he was pretty sure he needed one tonight because of the direction this conversation with Tyler was taking.

“Not really,” Tyler said after a short pause that made Jeff suspect he might really feel otherwise. “It was so long ago, you