Caught in the Neuse

By Christopher D. Carter

Things aren't going so well for Luke Green these days. It's 1984, and he's a teenager just coming into his own when tragedy strikes his family. His mother was his closest parent, and she passes away suddenly, leaving him alone with his distant and closed-minded father at the beginning of a long hot summer. Luke goes to summer camp soon after, and to take pressure off his mind on the first day, he swims across the Neuse River to an island in the stream where he finds an old abandoned mansion. When he enters the front door, the most dangerous adventure of his life begins . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher D. Carter
• Release date: Aug 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781940451343

Christopher D. Carter

Christopher D. Carter is an engineer by trade. After spending many hours of free time drawing, painting, and writing, he decided to unleash a unique universe of characters upon the worlds of science fiction and comic book fandom.

Book preview

Caught in the Neuse

by Christopher D. Carter, © 2016

Text and Illustration Copyright © 2016 Christopher D. Carter

All Rights Reserved

Also by Christopher Carter available at ebook retailers:

Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound 1 – 5 (Book 1)

Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound 6 – 12 (Book 2)

Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound Annual 3, 13 – 21 (Book 3)

Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound Annual 1

Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound Annual 2

Android and the Werewolf

Children’s Books

When Kitty Came to Visit

Discover other titles by Christopher D. Carter at

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/SawdustEntertainment

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Foreword

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

About the Author

Foreword

*

I was sitting down one day last summer (2016), thinking about the 1970’s and 80’s, the days when I grew up from a child to a teenager, and I was feeling pretty nostalgic about the good times that came along with those bittersweet and confusing days of adolescence. In that age, there were the great drive-in movie theaters still in existence, where anybody’s mom could pile all the kids in the neighborhood into one car and pay one price to get everybody inside for Star Wars, E.T., or Raiders of the Lost Ark for a cheap price on a Saturday night. A bucket of buttered popcorn never tasted so good.

The 70’s and 80’s also introduced the world to affordable home video games and the Atari 2600. Adventure. Asteroids. Space Invaders. I spent many an hour in front of a cathode ray black-and-white television, blasting aliens or fighting dragons that were shaped like ducks, and I thought I would never have so much fun in all my life. You’re going to mess up your eyes, son, my dad used to say after I had sat in front of the television for three straight hours trying to get a high score on Asteroids. It’s hard for a kid to care about his vision when aliens are invading the living room.

But what came along with all of those good times and the transformation of a child into a teenager were the more difficult struggles. Boy and girl relationships. Growing mounds of homework that never seemed to go away unless a pencil was picked up and put to work. The dreaded ritual of the long school bus ride through the country to Farmer School, located in, where else, but the tobacco field metropolis of Farmer, North Carolina. And let me tell you, gym class in the hot and humid Carolina summers was no day at the park. Or, maybe it was at the park? Hmm, you get my meanin’.

Anyways, this book was drawn at least in part from some of that nostalgia, and the story ventures into the universe of Crush and Pound as well. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1

*

Millborotownville City, NC. Summer 1984

As he lay in bed, Luke blinked his eyes in the humid dark just before dawn and stared at the ceiling of his tiny bedroom. This, whatever this was, was really all just a bad dream. He would wake up, and his life would be normal again. But had it ever been normal? He listened to the songs of the crickets outside his second story window, and he wished that he could wake up in another time and another place with a normal family. Was his life normal though? He did not answer himself; he just laid there listening to the wind blowing through the enormous willow tree outside of his window. It was relaxing to listen to how the thin leaves slapped one another, and slapped one another, and slapped one another. He asked himself again, was his life normal?

He did not think so, and he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

At 6:30 am, he woke up again in a summer sweat, and he peeled the sheet away from his body to get the air stirring. He didn’t hear the willow leaves clapping outside of his window any longer, and the heat of summer began to set in. The light of the morning peeked through his window, and he rolled over onto his side and looked at the photo in the frame next to his bed. It was a picture of himself and his mom at the park three years earlier in 1981. They were at the swings, and she was standing behind him with her hands on the chains. He remembered the day so well because they had just gone to see Raiders of the Lost Ark earlier at the noon showing, and they were rounding their Saturday afternoon off with a trip to the city park. When it came to movies, he could remember whatever happened in them immediately afterward. A strange ability, in his mind, but he supposed that everyone could place events and memories better on happy days.

He twisted over onto his back and closed his eyes. Good memories were what he wanted to remember. Leave the bad ones behind, Luke thought. Off of the photograph and out of his life. Today was a day that he hoped he could forget.

Footsteps clumped on the shag carpet downstairs, and he heard the radio turn on. It was his dad getting up for breakfast. Well, it was his dad and he called him that, but it was not really his dad. Luke Green and Andy Singleton were related by one relationship and one relationship only. That relationship they had shared with his mother, Norma Lynn Green Singleton.

Had been anyway.

He rubbed his eyes, and he hoped he could forget today forever.

Luke heard the footsteps coming up the stairs, and he rolled over onto his side, facing away from the door. A hand turned the squeaky knob, and the door opened.

Are you just goin’ to lay there all day long? It’s 6:35, and the day is wastin’, Andy said as he hovered over him, blocking the morning light. The shadow on the wall was broad and covered the wall all the way to the ceiling, and Luke stretched his arms but did not look at his dad’s face.

I’m up.

You don’t look like you’re up, the grumpy shadow said and moved out toward the hallway. Grits will be ready soon, Andy said, and the shadow slid completely out of the room and down the stairs.

Grits. Blecch! Luke thought to himself. Why ruin the taste of good butter and pepper by mixing in that crap? he wondered as he laid there silently looking at the dimples in the sheetrock, and he wished had a long leather whip at his side like Indiana Jones. Maybe then he could make space around himself, safe space without Andy poking his nose into it. He remembered the scar on Indy’s chin, and he thought a whip could do wonders for unwanted noses probing in places they didn’t belong.

Are you comin’ or not?! Andy yelled from downstairs, and Luke sighed. Then he rolled over to the edge of his twin size bed and sat up. There was a dresser with a mirror mounted on top across from his bed, and he looked at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, and it showed in his eyes. They were puffy and red, and he had thin, red streaks on his face where the seams of his pillowcase had embedded vertical lines on his cheeks. He looked like he felt, and he rubbed his eyes as his feet rested on the cold planks of the wooden floor. NOW!! Andy bellowed, and Luke got to his feet and grabbed a shirt from the nightstand. Then he strolled drowsily out of the bedroom, grabbed the hand rails, and carefully stepped down the stairs to the front entryway of the small cookie cutter house. He stopped and looked out the front window at the tall, green grass in the front yard, and he sensed that it was about time for Andy to bring up the fact that the grass was too high and needed cutting. Luke’s eyes rolled, and he turned toward the kitchen and ambled along the short hallway to the small coffee table by the counter. There were three wooden chairs lined with homemade seat cushions around the table, and he pulled out the one he usually sat in and plopped down in it. He put his elbows on the table and rubbed his eyes for a few seconds while Andy brought the small pot of hot grits over with a ceramic tile to place the hot pot on so that it didn’t burn the table. There was already one burn mark Luke had made when he had roasted popcorn in a pot and set it on the table too soon before the metal had cooled down. That mistake had cost him a few days grounding, but his mom had been around then and she had let him sneak outside while Andy wasn’t watching.

About time, Andy grunted, and he had a saucer of his own for the grits, but there wasn’t one for Luke. Get yourself a plate and dig in, he told Luke and scooped out a lump of the sticky corn based food and plopped it on his plate as if it were a giant white spitball.

Yeah, that looks appetizing, Luke thought to himself, not daring to actually say what he was thinking for fear of retribution. Andy wasn’t much for criticism, and Luke knew better than to start the day off like that. Especially not today. Looks great, Andy actually said as he got up to get a saucer out of the cabinet. He saw the pot of coffee on the coffeemaker, and he was tempted to get a cup of it to wash down the spitball he was going to be forced to eat, but he knew he better ask first. Coffee was a precious liquid around these parts, and Andy liked to take a thermos full with him to work every day. The thing was, he knew Andy wasn’t going to work today, and he might be able to get a cup for himself, if he asked nicely. Would it be okay if I had a cup of coffee, Andy? Luke asked in a quiet voice as he retrieved a clean saucer from the cabinet.

Why? Didn’t you sleep much? he asked Luke, and Luke’s shoulders dropped in disbelief. Andy’s back was turned to Luke, and he didn’t see the boy’s frustration, but he must have sensed the delay in the sound of the saucer touching the countertop. Andy’s head turned and his eye cut back toward Luke, but Luke knew he could only see him with his peripheral vision. Yeah, go ahead. I’m not goin’ to work, and I suppose you didn’t get much sleep after all.

How thoughtful, Luke blurted sarcastically in his mind, but he felt the word, Thanks, come out from between his lips. It was amazing how close an imagination could come to getting someone into serious trouble without ever really crossing the line.

I hear the sarcasm, Andy answered, but he must not have cared too much because he shifted his head away from Luke and toward the gooey ball of ground up white corn on his plate. Luke poured himself a cup of coffee, and then he brought a saucer and fork back over to the table for the grits. He looked at the white clump in the pot, and he scooped a heap out with a wooden spoon and plopped it on the saucer. Then he cut a slice of butter and set it on top of the mound along with a sprinkling of black pepper. He hoped that would be enough to give it some taste, but he doubted it. Across the table, his dad chewed on a mouthful of the paste, and he did not make eye contact with Luke as he smacked his lips. Luke sipped on his coffee and aimlessly stirred the grits in his saucer, hoping to smear the pat of butter so it would melt faster. It didn’t work, but it passed the time. His belly growled, and he realized that he should eat something, even if it was disgusting to him.

Did it cost a lot? Luke felt himself saying, and he wondered how that had slipped out of his mouth. He had no intention of having a conversation with Andy, but his subconscious must have felt differently. Andy looked at him from across the small table, and he shook his head as if to say ‘no’. Then he went back to smacking down the last of his grits and slurping his coffee, never making eye contact with him again for the rest of the morning meal. To Andy, eating was business, and the front doors were wide open this morning. Luke made curves in his grits with his fork, and he found that he was drawing a question mark in the food. The lack of communication was oppressive, but he was used to it by now. Soon, Andy was up from the table, washing his plate and heading out of the kitchen, leaving Luke to himself to draw punctuation marks in his food. It was amazing how his appetite increased with Andy gone, and to cure the silence, he flipped on the radio that sat on the counter next to the bar stool where his mother would sit. The music filled the room and made the atmosphere seem slightly more lively. He wolfed down the tasteless ground corn as he listened to rock and roll, and in between songs, the disc jockey read off the weather.

Mild weather today, but hurricane season is building strong this year with a prediction of twelve major storms this year, and NOAA has already spotted a storm brewing in the Atlantic off the western coast of Africa. Shouldn’t bother us for a couple of weeks, but stay tuned to Sunny 101 Point 9 for the latest forecast. Next up . . . , he continued, and Luke turned off the radio, cleaned up the plate and pot of grits, and ran upstairs to get a shower. It was going to be a long day, and he was going to have to be cleaned up today, even if he would rather have stayed in bed and read a book.

At least he had not had a fight with his dad that morning. He had tried hard to avoid it, and that made him think that maybe his dad had tried just as equally as hard, too. That gave Luke hope, which was something he really needed right now. Hope was a difficult and elusive creature to find in this house, but Luke counted on hope to get him through the rest of the day. After taking his shower and getting dressed in his best clothes, he ambled back down the stairs and stood at the front screen door, staring at the tall grass and wondering why he could not just skip completely over this day and move onto the next. He was a teenager now, and he tried to be reckless and live up to his potential. None of his other friends were worried about where they would be five minutes from now, let alone five years. Why should he be any different? It wasn’t the future that he was concerned with though. It was just that he wanted to skip over today, that’s all. He took in a deep breath and sighed as his dad came up behind him and pushed his way to the door handle like he always did, ignoring the boy in front of him, the one who lived in his house, the one who came along with the mother. His dad led the way out of the house, and Luke closed and locked the door behind them. He was used to being overlooked by his dad, but at least they weren’t arguing. Everything was going a little better than normal between them, and he hoped the circumstances would hold up for the rest of the day. He thought it should, except of course, for missing the details with the coffee pot. Though he did not turn it on that morning, he had forgotten to turn it off.

**********

Luke sat in the passenger’s seat of the truck, and he watched the light poles pass silently by one at a time. The morning was overcast, and the road ahead seemed to be covered in a hazy shade. There was no music in the background, only the bumping rhythm of the tires smashing the perpendicular lines in the street. He looked over at his dad, and Andy stared out of the windshield at the road ahead, never taking his eyes off where he was going. Focused. That was his dad in a nutshell, and he wondered what it was that his mom had seen in him. Did he ever pay attention to their needs? Luke had grown up in the household and had never known any other set of parents, but his dad had always seemed distant. Andy was the shift supervisor for a semiconductor manufacturer in Raleigh, and if he was not at work, then he was in his small office at home, going through the fabrication recipes, employee work schedules, and timelines of current projects. He was always at work. Always. It didn’t feel like he ever had anything to do with Luke or his mom, but she always defended him by saying, Son, he took us in and put a roof over our heads and provided for us. Luke never argued with his mom about it because he couldn’t even remember what had happened when he was a year old, but it seemed to him that his dad thought of them as property and not as family, and Luke resented it. He could feel his cheeks burning red at the notion, and he stuck his finger in his shirt collar and stretched it to let the air from the wing vent in around his neck. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead, and he turned his head to look out the window again. The light poles passed by, and the beat of the street relaxed him as he wiped the sweat from his face.

After a few more minutes and a few more turns on the highway, they pulled into the deserted parking lot of the small brick building. Andy parked in the space at the front door, and the reflection of the truck in the glass of the front entrance mirrored their movement. Luke could see his dad’s face in the window, and the tinted glass gave him a darkened expression, almost a frown stretching down to his neck. His dad turned off the truck and took the keys out of the ignition without opening his door to get out. That was unlike Andy, as he always seemed sure of his next move. He sat there in the truck for a moment in silence, and he stared at his own reflection in the window. Luke could not tell what was going on in his dad’s mind, but he wasn’t about to ask either. He just sat there with his dad in the truck as the heat of the day began to creep in through every crevice of the vehicle, and neither one spoke a word to the other. Andy turned his head and set his eyes on Luke’s profile for only a second, as if he were going to say something profound, and then the moment passed in stillness. Luke froze and looked straight ahead, like a deer caught in a spotlight, and he held his breath. Instead of saying something to his son, Andy opened the truck door and got out. He didn’t tell Luke to get out though. He didn’t have to because the temperature was creeping up in the truck, and Luke was starting to sweat again. Andy went on into the building without turning to look back, and the door closed behind him. The tinted glass of the building’s front window shook, and Luke saw his own reflection sitting in the truck, all alone and sad. He got out of the truck and followed his dad inside.

He pushed the front door in and stepped from concrete to carpet, and as his eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting, he looked around at the interior of the building. There were tall leafy plants in giant golden vases on either sides of long benches along the decorated walls. There were also massive framed paintings of unfamiliar business men and women, and these were scattered along the hallways and corridors. He turned and followed his dad down the front corridor toward a door in a distant corner, and his dad opened the door labeled Office and went inside. Luke took his time getting there, reading the names of the men and women in the framed paintings and admiring the unusual designs of the wallpaper. When he got to the door, a gentleman in a black suit and red tie came out and offered his hand to him.

Hello, Mr. Singleton. My name is Derrick Harrington. Your father said that you were waiting out here in the hallway, the man said in a calm voice. Luke shook his hand and studied his face. He was middle aged with brown hair and hints of silver to distinguish him apart from others in their twenties or early thirties. He was hunched forward slightly, and his face was decorated with many lines, perhaps from worry. It would be expected in his line of work.

Nice to meet you, Mr. Harrington. He is my dad, but my name is Luke Green. Not Singleton, he corrected. Mr. Harrington nodded with an apologetic smile and patted him on the shoulder.

I’m so sorry, Mr. Green. I didn’t realize, he said and motioned for Luke to follow him down the hall. Would you like a soda while your father is discussing matters? We have Coke and Pepsi both, if you like. Luke nodded and walked with Mr. Harrington down the hallway with several large open rooms on either side. At the end of the hallway, there was a set of double doors going out the back of the building, and on the left, there was a vending area. Mr. Harrington dug into the deep pockets of his dress pants and jingled some change around until he found what he was looking for, and then he pulled out a couple of quarters and deposited them into the machine. The sign said thirty-five cents on the machine, and Luke dug into his own pockets where he had at least that much change with him.

I have some change, Luke started, but Mr. Harrington threw his hand up and waved the notion away.

Don’t worry, son. I have you covered. What would you like?

Coke, I guess. Thanks.

Sure thing, Mr. Harrington said and pushed the big red button. When the drink can rolled out of the bottom of the dispenser, Mr. Harrington snatched it out and handed it to Luke. Here you go, Mr. Green.

Luke. Just call me Luke. And thanks again.

Don’t mention it. It isn’t much, but I hope that we can make your time here as pleasant as possible. What school do you go to? County or city? Mr. Harrington popped another quarter from his pocket and the dime from the change deposit into the machine, and he pressed the Barg’s Root Beer button.

Oh, I live on the edge of town, but I go to a county school. Chatham West Middle School, Luke said. The root beer can tumbled to the bottom of the machine, and Mr. Harrington grabbed the cold can out and held it up in a toast.

Go Squirrels! Mr. Harrington replied and waited for Luke to return the toast. Luke bumped his Coke can against the root beer can, and they both took a swig to the Chatham West Squirrels.

Go Nuts! Luke said and swallowed the cold drink down.

Yeah, man. I went there, too, when I was a kid. Those were the days, Mr. Harrington said and sat down at a nearby table. Have a seat, Luke, he said, and Luke sat down across from him and took another sip of his Coke. Mr. Harrington leaned back in the padded wooden chair, and he put his arm on the table, nursing the cold can of root beer. I knew your mother in school. She was a good lady.

You did? Luke said.

Yes, I did. She was a grade older than me, but I was in a couple of classes with her. You know, Yearbook class and Art class. Those classes tend to get kids of all ages in them. She was quite the painter, even in school.

Really? Luke said. His mother had worked as an accountant, but he had no idea that she painted.

Oh yeah. She painted this picture one time for the school paper. It was a picture of a squirrel on a stump, eating an acorn, Mr. Harrington said, and he took another swig of his drink.

Sounds kind of simple to me, Luke said. He was not trying to put down his mother’s work, but how impressive is a picture of a squirrel.

Yes, it does. But I’ll tell you something, Luke. I remember that painting as if I had seen it yesterday. He sat back further in his chair and looked away at nothing in particular. I can’t remember many things from middle school, but I do remember that painting. It was really good, and something that sticks with you in your memory that long, man, it had to be more than just good. It had to be great. Mr. Harrington was quiet for a few seconds as he stared at nothing in particular, and then he looked as if he realized that Luke was sitting there with him again. Sorry. I was just remembering. Anyways, Luke, I wonder if you have ever tried your hand at painting. Luke shook his head. Well, if you ever have a chance some time, try it. You might be surprised at how things turn out for you.

Sure, Luke said and saw Mr. Harrington give him a smile. I’ll try it some time. If my mom was good at it, maybe some of that talent dripped into my DNA. Then there was an awkward silence, and Luke took another sip of Coke. I wish I could talk to her again. One last time. Those were words that he never could have confided with his father, but here he was saying them to a stranger. Mr. Harrington nodded and took a sip of root beer.

I lost my mom when I was twenty. She saw me through school and most of college, and I’m thankful for that, but fifty is too young to go. You just never know how long you have until you’re called from this earth. I miss her still, but I have learned to keep going and to keep living. It’s what she would want me to do, and if there is one person in this world that I would never want to let down, it’s my mom. So I keep on keeping on. Mr. Harrington gulped the last sip of his root beer and crushed the can with one hand. Then he tossed it into the trash can across the room with a nice arc and a clang, but no net to swish.

What do you want to do when you grow up? It was an odd question, out of the ordinary for a stranger, but Luke wasn’t bothered by it. In fact, though he didn’t think much of his occupation, he thought he liked Mr. Harrington.

Heck if I know. I like playing Atari, but I doubt that would make a career. I don’t know. How did you get into your job?

My dad did it, so I thought, why not? he said and shrugged his shoulders beneath the suit coat.

Oh. Well, I doubt I’ll end up being a plant supervisor. It seems to take up too much time, Luke said. And life is too short to do things you don’t like, right?

Right, Mr. Harrington said, and he nodded his head at the machine. Want another one?

I better not. Dad will kill me if I drink too much caffeine, Luke said, and Mr. Harrington looked down at his watch.

I have a meeting to attend in a few minutes. You take care of yourself, and I’ll see you tonight, Mr. Harrington said and got up from the table. Luke stayed in his seat and waved goodbye to him as he left. Then he was alone, in the vending room of a funeral home, and his mother was somewhere in one of the rooms. He shook his head with a shiver, and he got up and walked out the back door to get some air. He was only outside for a few minutes when a hearse drove out from beneath the shelter and steered out of the parking lot toward the hospital. Luke thought about it, and it made him sad to know that his mother was just one of the many people this year who would be passed through this building and onto an eternal rest. He watched the long black station wagon drive off into the distance, and he wondered who was next on the list. For that matter, when would his own time come?

It was too sad of a subject to think about, and he turned to go back inside when he saw his dad’s face staring at him through the tinted glass. Andy pushed the door open and let his son inside, and for the first time that Luke could remember, his dad looked pale and weak.

I’ve taken care of the final details. The viewing will be tonight, and the graveside service will be tomorrow afternoon at the First Baptist Church, just down the road from the airport, Andy said matter-of-factly.

"Wasn’t that your mother’s church? My mom never liked going there. She said it was like visiting a freezer," Luke told his dad, and he did not care whether his dad liked the comment or not. Andy’s face went from pale white to beet red to seconds, and he grabbed Luke just tight enough around his bicep with his big strong hands to give his son a message.

That’s where the empty plot that my family owns is, you understand. I would have to buy one at her church, and we don’t have the money, Andy explained in his typical one-way conversation fashion. Luke listened to his father, but he found it hard to contain his emotions very well at that time.

She told me that she would like to be buried at her church, and you know it. She would have done the same for you if things had been reversed, Luke replied and tried to jerk his arm away from his dad’s grip, but with no success.

Norma isn’t here to make those decisions, and I have to do what’s best for the two of us now, Andy told him and let the distance remain between them.

It seems like you only want what’s best for you, not her. Or me, Luke argued, and he could feel the tears start to well up in his eyes. Something was happening inside, and he could not control his emotions, and his father knew it.

We’ll talk about this when the time comes. Now, you have a lawn to mow, and I have a work schedule to plan out, Andy started, and Luke’s eyes burned holes through him.

Are you freakin’ kidding me?! A work schedule?! Can’t you at least take a few minutes off from work to say goodbye to my mom?

I did say goodbye, but you’ll find out for yourself someday when you’re a man. Work hits you every day, no matter the circumstances, Andy explained. Luke looked at his dad as if he didn’t like what he saw, and he had had enough. He was so angry that he ripped the collar of his dress shirt, and he ran out of the building and into the parking lot. And he kept running. He heard Andy calling him, but he didn’t look back. When he got to the end of the parking lot, he turned left and kept going down the street. A couple of blocks down the road, he broke into a sweat, and he stopped to button down his shirt to get the air moving. Then he started down the road again, crossed an intersection called Five Points, where the streets went out in five directions from the intersection instead of four, and he took another left on Park Street which led into an older rundown neighborhood. He stopped at the peak of the hill for a minute and looked down the street before going any further. This was familiar territory for him. His bus came through this way on the route to school every day, and the street went down into a valley and then up a long hill on the other side. In between, there were rows of small one or two bedroom homes lining the street on both sides, and the front yards were so narrow that he could probably spit from the front door to the yellow line in the middle of the street. He was in a bad mood for sure that day and wanted to get to the next neighborhood along the way, but he had to think about it long and hard before he ventured through that section of the road by himself, on foot no less. He studied the front doors of the homes on either side, and they were all open with just the screen doors protecting the insides from bugs. Then he drew his gaze to the house on the left at the bottom of the hill, in the valley by the stream, and he watched closely for any activity. He was zeroed in on the screen door, and he counted to five slowly. Nobody went in or out of that house. Luke turned around and checked out five points one last time for his dad, but apparently his old man hadn’t followed him. That was good. He turned back around and looked at the bottom of the hill and then at the top of the hill where he needed to be. About a hundred yards past the top of the next hill was where his buddy Matchstick Allman lived, just past the street’s namesake, City Park. If Luke was lucky, he could run down the hill and use the momentum to carry himself at least half way up the next hill, leaving him to hike the last half of the slope. He could do it, and with no sign of the residents at the bottom of the hill, it would be a breeze. He rubbed his hands together, bent down low to the ground, and he took off in a sprint down the hill. He ran hard, and maybe that was a bad thing because he knew that if he sprinted too quickly, he would run out of breath and have to stop. That would be a very bad thing for him to do. He could not afford to stop anywhere along this stretch of the road, because this block of houses was where most of the violent crimes in the entire county occurred. At the bottom of the hill on the left, well, that was the home of the Berry family. No one at school played with anyone in the Berry family unless they wanted to stay in trouble with the law and model orange jumpsuits in prison like their old man, Richard Berry. Otherwise known as the Millborotownville City Strangler.

Luke was the first person on the bus route every morning, and about ten minutes after he got on the bus, Jimmy, the driver, would turn down Park Street from Five Points to pick up the Berrys. Jimmy even hated stopping outside of their house, but he didn’t have a choice. There were four kids in that family, and their names read like a cheap dime store coloring book: Candy, Red, Billy, and Dick. The last one in the list was the oldest, and he was sort of named after his father, except his parents didn’t have the sense to actually name him Richard and then nickname him Dick. Nope, his official birth certificate read Dick Norton Berry. Dick was a mean kid, rotten to the core as the Berrys go, and we had a lot of nicknames for him that we used behind his back because it was too dangerous to use them to his face. The younger kids called him DNA, but the rest of the boys his age called him Dick N. Berry, which the teachers scolded us for when they overheard it. We didn’t care about the scolding. When there was a bully to contend with every day, it was just too good to pass up using his real name to insult him with.

The bus had to stop and pick them up during the school year, but this was summer break and Luke was alone. He was going to run past their house and up the next hill without stopping. As he came down the long grade, he stayed off the sidewalk and on the right hand side of the road, and halfway down the long hill, he sidestepped a metal trash can lid and jumped a stray cat living in a nearby sewer drain. As he went up in the air, he realized the leather dress shoes he had on were loose and sliding back and forth on his feet, and he knew that if he kept this pace up, he was going to have blisters on the tops of his toes and on the sides of his feet. When he landed on the ground, one of his loose shoes went flying down the hill ahead of him, and he felt his