Meadow View Road

By Carter Johnson

As all his friends return for the summer from their first year away at college, Nick Monroe feels lost and alone. His father is dating a much younger woman, while his friends seem to be moving on with their lives. As he treads carefully into a relationship with his best friend, Megan, Nick, along with his other friends Kaz and Mulligan, will discover the truth about the mysterious new family that has moved in down the blocka truth that may destroy them all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504950817

Carter Johnson

Carter Johnson was born and raised in Charlotte, North Carolina. He studied screenwriting and film production for several years and saw little success, until he began writing novels. He lives in Charlotte with his wife and their cat. Spider's Web is his third novel.

Book preview

Meadow View

Road

Carter Johnson

Artist: Stephen Adams

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2015 Carter Johnson. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse   09/24/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-5082-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-5081-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015915515

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

A note about Bible quotations:

Scripture quotations marked KJV are from the Holy Bible, King James Version (Authorized Version). First published in 1611. Quoted from the KJV Classic Reference Bible, Copyright © 1983 by The Zondervan Corporation.

Contents

Prologue: The Car

Part One     Genesis

Chapter One: Moosh Reunion

Chapter Two: Retaliation

Chapter Three: Working Days

Chapter Four: Ashley’s Party

Chapter Five: The Arrangements

Chapter Six: Music Of The Night

Chapter Seven: New Neighbors

Chapter Eight: It Begins

Chapter Nine: Night Patrol

Chapter Ten: First Date

Chapter Eleven: The Fever

Chapter Twelve: Hunting, Part One

Chapter Thirteen: Dead Man’s Party

Chapter Fourteen: Hunting, Part Two

Chapter Fifteen: Suspicious Behavior

Chapter Sixteen: Pestilence

Part Two     Exodus

Chapter Seventeen: The Spread

Chapter Eighteen: Not Alone Tonight

Chapter Nineteen: Seeing Is Believing

Chapter Twenty: Hunting, Part Three

Chapter Twenty-One: Stakes Get Higher

Chapter Twenty-Two: Ghost Town

Chapter Twenty-Three: Discovery, Part One

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Watch / Morning

Chapter Twenty-Five: Discovery, Part Two

Chapter Twenty-Six: Burial And Prep

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Master, The Ground

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Last Supper

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Battle, Part One

Interlude: The Operators

Chapter Thirty: Battle, Part Two / Aftermath

Epilogue: Hope In The Wasteland

About The Author

To the Mountainbrook Crew

that are scattered to the four winds and beyond now:

this one’s for you.

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PROLOGUE: THE CAR

Thursday, May 21, 2005, 10:21 p.m.

There was no rain or thunder to announce the harbinger, no ominous chills up the spine or feelings of uneasiness. The sky was clear over the suburb of Green Park that night, constellations clearly visible even to the untrained eye. And the moon—it was fat and white, like a grub in the sky, casting its light down on Meadow View Road, pushing the shadows back just a little more.

Not one of the neighborhood’s residents had any inkling of the evil that would soon settle in their midst; why should they? Life in Green Park was far removed from the dirt and grunge of the city, the crime and the graffiti and the endless wails of sirens in the dead of night. Here, there was peace and quiet, barring the occasional scuffle or affair. Most of the crime in Green Park was of the white-collar variety; the rest of it would only be considered crime in the moral sense.

How could they have known that the evil was on its way?

~~

The old grey Buick was a 1996 LeSabre, and it already had over one hundred thousand miles on it. Nick was surprised it had lasted this long without a serious problem. Now, he thought to himself, this will be the first of those problems.

He pulled the car over to the curb just before the intersection of Meadow View Road and Highland Drive, doing his best to block out the jokes and wise cracks from the passenger seat and backseat. His two best friends, Kaz and Mulligan, would never let him live this down.

Nick popped the hood, got out of the car, and took a deep breath, fighting the urge to give the side panel a savage kick. He had been hoping for a new car after high school graduation; alas, he had been stuck with his Buick for that first semester of college. Not that it had mattered anyway. Here he was, back at home, while the rest of his friends were going right on with their college experiences.

Hey, gearhead, said his friend Mulligan as he stepped out of the backseat, maybe it’s time for an overhaul. What do you think?

Blow me, said Nick. That’s what I think.

Nick was a freshly minted nineteen years old; his birthday had been three weeks ago. He had shaggy brown hair and deep-set brown eyes that his last girlfriend, Amanda Halperin, had said were his best physical feature. Amanda herself would’ve said that Nick was handsome in a classical way, with a strong chin and cheekbones and a small nose. But she would’ve said it was his personality that made him attractive. Nick was a good guy, the type who would have your back when you needed him to. He was fiercely loyal to his friends, and he was never the type to question; he simply showed up when he was called on.

Mulligan laughed and said, Don’t be a sore loser.

Kevin Mulligan, also nineteen, had short red hair and pale Irish skin that would sometimes gleam in the sun if he went to the beach. He was a soccer player and had the build to match—lean muscle and squared shoulders—and he was taller than Nick by almost four inches. He had a small scar above his left eyebrow, the result of his face being introduced to an opposing player’s cleat a few years ago during a game in high school.

The passenger door opened finally, and Kaz James stepped out to join the two as they made their way to the front of the car. Kaz was nineteen like his friends. He had short black hair and dark skin. He was slightly taller than Nick, but slimmer in the shoulders and waist. He could’ve been a lacrosse player if he had any interest in the sport, which he did not. In fact, collegiate sports in general interested him very little. He had discovered during his first year away that he missed his friends terribly and did not enjoy being so far away from them and his home. Going to college in California had sounded great on paper, but he had found that, in practice, it did not agree with him.

Kaz reached for the latch under the hood, then lifted the hood to its full height. Anything hissing or smoking?

Nothing, Nick said. And nothing smells bad, either.

Shit, said Mulligan. So what do you think it is?

Nick gave his friend a look and said, Gee, Head, if I knew what it was, I wouldn’t still be standing here, would I?

Head was an unfortunate nickname Mulligan had been given by Kaz many years ago, due to the size of his head. Mulligan himself couldn’t see it; to him, his head was no bigger than Nick’s or Kaz’s. But over the years, he had grown accustomed to the name.

No need to get persnickety, Mulligan said.

Good word use, said Kaz. You pick that up in freshman English?

Mulligan shook his head. Nah. I heard it from Claire one weekend when she— He stopped himself and looked away from both Kaz and Nick for a moment before he said, Never mind.

Neither Nick nor Kaz pressed him on the subject.

Nick looked down at the complicated jumble beneath his hood and said, Well, I’m gonna need a flashlight. He took a step back and looked at Mulligan. Will you guys help me push the bastard up the hill and back to my house?

Kaz huffed and puffed sarcastically for several seconds. Seriously, man? Come on! We’re already running late as it is! Ashley Rolston and April have been there for an hour already, and Blake’s gonna be there soon too! We’re gonna miss everything! Then he laughed and waved one hand at Nick. Yeah, man, of course we will. We can take Mulligan’s piece of shit instead.

Leave my car alone, hissed Mulligan. It got me to school and back in one piece.

God only knows how, retorted Kaz. Your car is so damn old it still has a tape deck in it!

My sisters gave me that car when I turned sixteen, Mulligan explained for the hundredth time, and I am not going to put any more money into it than absolutely necessary. It won’t last much past three hundred thousand miles anyway.

Kaz shook his head. Fucking deathtrap, he muttered.

At least I have a car, countered Mulligan. What? What?

Kaz just laughed and shook his head, then let the hood slam closed with a loud thwack of metal. Whatever, Head.

Whatever, Black and Mild, said Mulligan, now wearing a smile on his face. Come on, let’s get this big beast back to Nick’s so we can get to the club. Half-price shots tonight, you know. Gotta love College Night.

Kaz shook his head. You ain’t fucking. Why bother?

Mulligan muttered Asshole as Nick climbed behind the wheel.

Behind the two boys, there came the rev of an engine. Both Mulligan and Kaz turned at the sound. Nick, now inside the car and preparing to close the door, left it open instead and watched as a silver Audi TT drove past them slowly, one of its tinted windows down slightly. Nick could hear what sounded like opera or classical music drifting from the interior. He could smell some kind of exotic cigarette smoke wafting from within the vehicle as well.

But the driver?

Nick caught only a glimpse of blond hair; Kaz, a pouty set of red lips; Mulligan, an alabaster hand as it gripped the black leather steering wheel. None of the three was able to form a complete picture of the driver on his own.

They watched the car drive up Meadow View Road and out of sight as it crested the hill.

You see that? Kaz asked.

Yessir, replied Mulligan, running the two words together as one; this was standard practice in the neighborhood.

Probably the new neighbors, Nick said. The Hoffmanns moved out a month ago, and there’s been a ton of construction going on there ever since. They just finished with most of it on Monday.

Kaz nodded thoughtfully. Think they have any hot daughters?

Mulligan snorted. Probably jailbait.

Fifteen will get you twenty, Nick said. Leave the bait alone, Kaz.

What? Kaz asked. I didn’t say anything like that, I’m just saying—

We know what you’re just saying, said Mulligan. Now let’s move the damn car so we can get out there.

It took twenty minutes.

The Buick fought them the whole way. It didn’t help that they were pushing it uphill either. Then, once they had pushed it back up Meadow View to Nick’s house, they had to ease it down the driveway and push it under the carport. When it was finally situated, Nick was able to go inside and retrieve a flashlight while Mulligan popped the hood.

After another ten minutes, the three of them determined that the alternator had gone bad; Nick would need to replace it. Damn it, Nick muttered. This car has been nothing but good until right now.

That’s how it starts, chief, said Kaz. Look at my Saab. Never even made it to college. Kaz’s car had died a very permanent death only a month before school began. He had been one of the only ones to go to school with no car. The logistical problems of getting his car across the country had not fazed him; he had been convinced that the car would make it, no matter what Nick or Mulligan or anyone else told him.

Nick shook his head and grunted. Damn it, he said again.

Looks like you’re driving, Kaz said to Mulligan. Fire up the piece.

Shut up, Mulligan said. Don’t talk shit, or you’ll be walking into the city tonight.

Oh, I’m so scared! said Kaz. Please, don’t make me walk into the city!

Nick shut the Buick’s hood, locked the car, and pocketed his keys. Let’s go, he said. I need a drink.

Kaz grinned at them both and said, And I brought a little something as well. He patted his pocket gently, adding, Just to get the old nerves under control.

Mulligan returned the grin and said, Dude, I haven’t smoked in, like, a month.

Nick chuckled and said, I got high last night. Where were you?

At work. Why didn’t you call me?

"Why didn’t you call me?"

You got high with Blake and Ashley, didn’t you? Mulligan asked.

Nick nodded. Yep. And I—

Kaz interjected with, Stop the yapping and let’s go. I need to hit on some girls tonight.

Both Mulligan and Nick gave him a look and said You ain’t fucking at the same time. Then the two of them laughed and high-fived.

That’s cold, said Kaz. Real cold.

Whatever, said Nick. Let’s get out of here.

Mulligan’s cell phone rang; he dug it out of his pocket and chuckled when he saw the display. It’s April, he said. She’s probably wondering where the hell we are. He punched a button and brought the phone to his ear. Hey, Apes. Then he held the phone at arm’s length as a female voice shouted, Where the hell are you?

PART ONE

GENESIS

Well I am Death, none can excel,

I’ll open the door to Heaven or Hell.

—O Death, lyrics by Ralph Stanley

And God called the light Day, and the darkness He called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.

—Genesis 1:5,

King James Version

CHAPTER ONE: MOOSH REUNION

Friday, May 22, 2005, 2:18 p.m.

Megan Parker drove her white ’94 Corolla down the highway, trying not to grit her teeth. In the passenger seat, Megan’s best friend, Lisa West, was air drumming and singing at the top of her lungs to The Flys’ What You Want, a song Megan didn’t exactly mind. What she really minded was her crazy best friend shouting the lyrics, mostly because Lisa could not sing. Never could. She only thought she could. Lisa’s caterwauling apparently sounded good to her ears because she broke into song at the drop of a hat. At least, Megan thought, it isn’t show tunes anymore.

Megan tucked a strand of brown hair behind one ear, adjusting her sunglasses as she did. She told herself she could tolerate it. After this song, it was her turn to play something. That was their rule; Lisa got to play a CD, and then Megan got to play a tape. Lisa would complain about Megan’s tape, as she did about every other tape, and then harrumph as she unplugged her Discman from the tape player and set it on the floorboard at her feet.

Megan shook her head and blinked her eyes. She checked to make sure Lisa had not seen the motion. No, she was good. Megan told herself she was just tired and needed to get some sleep. Her exams had been much more than she expected. She had heard horror stories from older friends and upper-level students, but she hadn’t really believed them, not at heart. She thought they were only meant to scare her, but she had been wrong, so very wrong. Between that and Lisa being Lisa, she had nearly torn her hair out. But now, she thought, I can relax. For the next three months, she would have her old room back, and her old job, and be without Lisa snoring drunkenly in a bed next to her.

Megan was almost nineteen; her birthday was a month away, at the end of June. She was pretty, she guessed, slim with long brunette hair that hung past her shoulders. She was lean, or at least tried to be, but at five foot two inches, she was cursed with short-girl syndrome. As such, Megan had myriad problems to deal with that many other girls did not. Shelves were her biggest enemy, mostly that little bastard called the top shelf. And she hated laundry machines. Megan had been told her eyes were her best feature. Nick once told her she had anime eyes; she liked to think of them as Bambi eyes. They were big and brown, and they were one of the only things she could use to compete with Lisa when they went out to a bar.

There I go again, she thought, getting all angry at Lisa. Megan brushed the thoughts out of her mind and focused on the highway. Next to her, Lisa was winding down along with the song.

Lisa West was eighteen as well, but unlike Megan, she didn’t have to guess how pretty she was. She knew. Lisa had long blond hair (that Megan knew she dyed every few weeks) and deep blue eyes. She was vivacious and quick witted, Megan had to admit, and the first to laugh and the last to stop. She had an hourglass figure and angular legs that, according to the boys Lisa liked to associate with, seemed to have no end. And she was smart. Megan had known that since middle school. Lisa didn’t struggle with grades, even now that they were in college. Megan didn’t understand how she did it. Lisa partied all the time but had somehow managed to pass all her classes this semester. It was baffling.

Finally, after much agony on Megan’s part, the song—and Lisa’s singing—ended, and it was her turn to play something. Lisa took out her tape adapter. Megan, you really need to get a CD player put in your car. She set the Discman on the floorboard, just as Megan knew she would. So, Lisa began, lifting a small cardboard box filled with cassette tapes from the floor, what 1980s garbage band are we going to listen to now?

Megan gave her a look and then realized Lisa couldn’t see her eyes because of the sunglasses. Okay, one, my music is not garbage. I like it. And deep down, you know you do too. Two, it’s my turn, and you know the road trip rules.

Lisa laughed, shaking her head. Please. I love you, Megs, but I despise your music, rules or not.

Don’t hate. You know you like it. Now put in that tape. Megan pointed to a particular cassette. She turned on her Arnold Schwarzenegger voice and added, Do it! Do it now!

Lisa popped the cassette into the player and then replaced the cardboard box on the floor. You’re killing me, Smalls, she said. You really are.

Megan grinned and turned up the volume. I love this song.

As Lisa sat back and sighed deeply, The Cult began to play She Sells Sanctuary over the stereo. Megan’s grin widened, and she began to sing the lyrics.

You can’t sing, you know, Lisa said. You never could.

Megan shook her head. If I were you, I’d keep those observations to myself.

I’m me and you’re you, Lisa said with a laugh, "and we are all together."

Megan sang the song softly, reminding herself that Lisa was her best friend and she loved her very much. But there were times when Lisa could be exhausting. Megan tried to keep their dorm room clean, but living with Lisa made it nearly impossible. The other girl’s clothes were always scattered around the floor, and she never took out the trash. Chinese takeout would spend two weeks in their tiny refrigerator, taking up valuable space and stinking the thing up. It was not what Megan had expected. She knew her friend had been a slob in high school; they had lived next door to each other. But she expected her friend to somehow move past that when they got to college. Unfortunately for Megan, that had not happened. If it hadn’t happened by now, Megan told herself, it probably wouldn’t magically happen before the start of the next term. She had been dreading this conversation ever since she realized, back in February, that she couldn’t live with her best friend anymore—not if she wanted to stay friends.

Megan told herself over and over again that she should’ve told Lisa before the end of the semester so she could’ve started making plans to find a new roommate. Maybe one of the other little hussies that she hangs out with, Megan thought, and she immediately felt guilty. Megan knew Lisa’s parents were quite overbearing, and Lisa had simply gone a little overboard when she got away from them. For what seemed like the hundredth time, Megan told herself she wasn’t really angry at her best friend. She simply realized they could no longer live together. She just needed some time to herself during break, and during that time, she would figure out how to break the news to Lisa.

Shorty? Fingers snapped next to her. You in there, Shorty?

Megan zoomed back to reality, her thoughts disappearing in a mental puff of smoke. Sorry. What’s up?

Lisa had her cell phone in one hand. Mulligan wants to know when we’re gonna be home. Apparently they’re planning something for tonight to welcome us back.

Megan shrugged. Probably another three hours. And my parents want to take me out to dinner first before I can go anywhere.

Lisa put the phone to her ear and asked, Did you get all that? Three hours or so and then Megan’s gotta eat dinner with her folks at a restaurant. She listened for several moments, nodded, and said, Okay, sounds good. We’ll see you then. She laughed. Yeah, I miss you too, you big Irish lug. She hung up the phone and reached into the backseat for her purse, dropping the phone into it. Looks like there’s a party in our honor at my all-time favorite place in the whole wide world.

Megan chuckled. The bamboo forest, huh?

Lisa nodded and then made a gagging sound. I don’t miss that place, Shorty. Remember that time the cops almost nailed us when we were smoking that joint? My shirt was in tatters by the time we made it home.

Oh, don’t be a big baby about it. The bamboo forest is part of the whole package, like the bomb shelter or the picnic tables in the Swim Club. It’s all Meadow View.

I love our neighborhood, said Lisa. I just don’t like trees that eat up my shirts, or sticker bushes or fallen tree trunks in the dark.

So all the mooshes are getting together tonight, huh? Megan smiled.

If that’s what you guys want to call yourselves. Lisa chuckled. I’ll never understand that language you guys have.

Maybe someday you will.

Not likely, Lisa said, now smiling as well. You’re such a weirdo, you know that, Shortsky?

Thanks, babe. Love you too, said Megan. She began to laugh.

~~

Nick had only a slight hangover when he awoke that morning. The bottle of Gatorade he’d chugged before going to sleep seemed to have done its job.

Nick climbed out of bed around noon; he’d been asleep for nine hours. The dull throb at the base of his skull was just that—dull. Normally, after a night of drinking with Kaz and Mulligan, he’d be in pain the next day. Today that didn’t seem to be the case. He was glad of that. While today was his day off, he wanted to be fresh and pain free later that night when everybody would finally be back in town, and they could begin their summer together, the way it was meant to be.

A small part of himself—the part that lived deep inside and spoke only the truth—told him that he was lying. Mostly to himself, but also to Kaz and Mulligan. Every time they asked him if he was excited to see Megan, he would downplay his interest and act as though he couldn’t care less about seeing her again. Mulligan barely hid the fact that he was excited to see Lisa, whom Nick suspected had a small crush on Mulligan; he also suspected that the feeling was mutual.

He had lived in this neighborhood for most of his life; his friends had been here as long as he had. They were a close-knit group; even now, with college and distance separating them, they had all done their best to keep in touch. It was difficult balancing social lives with college demands, but somehow they had made it work. Well, Nick thought, he hadn’t made it work. Too much drinking and partying had gotten him the boot from Dunn University in Maryland, and now here he was, having become that thing that all college students dread—a townie.

He hoped Megan didn’t think less of him.

He hadn’t seen her since spring break; that had been in late March. He knew, through phone conversations, that something was bothering her, although she wouldn’t really elaborate on what it was. But there was something in her voice, in her words, that told him she was struggling with some issue. He hadn’t pressed her. Knowing her the way he did and for as long as he had, he knew that trying to get her to talk about it would only make her angry at him, so he left it alone.

But it was there; something not right. He knew it.

As Nick oriented himself inside his own room (nights of drinking sometimes left him with a strange sense of dislocation), taking in the small television, the portable stereo, the computer, the futon, he found himself filled, only momentarily, with a strong sense of guilt. This had been happening a lot in the last few months. It had begun when he had had to come home from school one weekend and tell his father that he was being kicked out of Dunn for lack of … well, lack of everything, as it turned out. He hadn’t been to class. As a result, he had done no work, taken no notes, passed no tests. He had been awarded with zeros in all his classes. Instead of being a responsible adult, like his father had lectured him about before he left for school, he had fucked everything up and wasted not only his own time but his father’s money. And, he suspected, a healthy dose of his father’s respect.

After he slipped on a pair of basketball shorts and a Star Wars T-shirt, he checked his phone for any missed calls. Nothing. Lisa and Megan would be back later on that day, he knew; neither one of them would’ve gotten up early enough to be home already. Knowing the two of them, he’d bet they’d pull into the neighborhood around five or six, having slept in that morning as much as possible. Mulligan and Kaz started back at their old jobs on Saturday; both were taking up their old jobs, slinging sandwiches at Sub-Delicious inside Green Park Mall. And Nick? Well, he was back at Blockbuster Video, the same job he’d had before heading off to college. Eight-hour days, sometimes longer, and closing shifts that didn’t end until after midnight (or one, depending on the type of day it had been) had convinced Nick that screwing up at college had been one of the worst mistakes of his life. He had been in a sort of funk since then, a spiral that didn’t exactly lead down, but simply kept spinning him around in place, like a top that would not stop.

As he turned away from his nightstand, his cell phone still in one hand, he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye.

Nick stepped closer to his window and stared out across his own backyard to the yard that abutted his, past the pine trees encircling that yard, and into the second-story window he was intimately familiar with. The window belonged to the house behind his own, and through it, he could see a figure moving across the room, carrying cardboard boxes to a corner and setting them on top of one another.

Nick lifted a pair of binoculars from his dresser; they were dotted with dents and chipped paint. Nick brought the device to his eyes and stared through it, adjusting the focus with one finger. The figure in the window swam into view once more, and Nick watched as the figure, a girl his own age, opened one of the cardboard boxes and withdrew a pile of folded clothes. She carried the clothes across the room to a large wardrobe, which she opened. The clothes went onto a shelf inside the wardrobe, then the figure turned away and headed for the stack of boxes once more.

Nick had not seen her come home; neither had he seen her car parked outside that house in the last few days. He wondered if she had just come home that morning; if so, she must’ve left Maryland before the sun came up. Maybe she was in a hurry to get back home, he thought to himself.

The figure in the window was Smith Sanders, and she was stunning—long blond hair, large green eyes, a body to die for, and brains that matched. She had lived behind Nick since middle school, and he had been secretly spying on her since then. Mulligan and Kaz sometimes joined in. He did not watch her undress or anything pervy like that; he simply observed her as she listened to music, talked on the phone, or argued with her parents. That had been the most common view before they had both left for Dunn University; somehow, Nick would never know the exact details, he had ended up going to the same college as Smith, along with April. Dunn was a liberal arts college. Nick himself had gone for the killer graphic design program; April, for the same reason. But Smith? She wanted to be an actress—a Broadway star. She wanted to sing and dance her way to the top. Nick knew this only because she had been heavily involved in the drama program at Green Park High. She had performed in several of the school’s musicals, usually playing the lead or close to it. She had practically dazzled the entire school with her performance in Guys and Dolls last spring, her final high school musical appearance.

Smith moved another stack of clothes to her wardrobe. When she had put the clothes away, she turned from the wardrobe and, instead of repeating the action, crossed her room to a computer desk. She switched the machine on and moved the cursor around the screen. Nick couldn’t tell exactly what she was doing, but several moments later, Smith began to dance around the room, singing a song at the top of her lungs. Nick could tell because she threw her arms wide and opened her mouth as wide as it would go as she sang. Nick wondered absently what the song was. He wouldn’t have been surprised to discover that it was Rent (We’re not gonna pay) from the musical of the same name. Then he put the thought out of his head as Smith danced her way to the stack of cardboard boxes and began to unload more clothes.

Nick lowered the binoculars and set them on the dresser. He sighed deeply; he knew so much about her, and yet she didn’t even know his name. Despite attending the same college, and gentle needling from April, he had never actually spoken to Smith Sanders—not in high school, not in college. He felt intimidated in his own way: she was unbelievably beautiful and had dated quarterbacks and forwards for most of high school. He had seen her on campus with a few different guys, but no relationship seemed concrete in any way; he had never seen her kiss any of those guys, and he had never seen her with someone at any of the college parties he had attended. She would, it seemed, remain a mystery to him.

Nick was dragged out of his brooding state by the ringing of his cell phone. He checked the display and saw that it was Kaz. What up, moosh? he asked, answering the phone.

Getting ready to smoke a little something with Mulligan. Blake re-upped last night after we left the club, and I went over there a little while ago. You down?

Yeah. You guys across the street at Mulligan’s house or next door at your place?

Mine. Throw some clothes on and head over here.

Nick smiled. Way ahead of you, chief. I’ll be there in a minute.

~~

Megan glanced down at the digital clock set into her dashboard; they were now about an hour and a half or so outside of Green Park. They should be home around five o’clock.

The stereo was now playing some poppy dance song. Megan didn’t know the title or the artist and didn’t particularly care; this was not her kind of music. She tolerated it for Lisa’s sake, but after being in that dorm room together for almost a year … Megan derailed that train of thought before it reached its station. Once again, she reminded herself that she loved Lisa.

Lisa rolled down her window and lit a Marlboro Light, exhaling smoke through the opening. Then she leaned back in her seat and put her feet up on the glove box. Megan didn’t mind; she was convinced that her Corolla wouldn’t last much longer anyway, so a few smudges on the dash didn’t bother her.

Lisa took a long drag from her cigarette, turned her head slightly, and asked, So what are you going to do about Nick?

Megan felt her eyes roll involuntarily. Thankful she had her sunglasses on, she answered with, I don’t know. Maybe nothing.

Nothing? Lisa asked incredulously. Seriously? You’ve got a major lady boner for him. And you know it.

Megan had been avoiding this conversation for nearly a month now, ever since the spring break trip. Things had been so intense with exams and moving out and … If she was honest with herself, she would know that she had been consciously denying her own feelings for—what?—six months? Seven? Whatever, the actual number didn’t matter. What mattered was … Another shake of her head; this time, Lisa noticed.

What? the other girl asked. What is it?

Nothing, Megan replied.

Yes it is. That’s your I-don’t-like-what-I’m-thinking-face. You make it a lot, and you think I don’t notice it. Now what is it? Tell me.

Megan shook her head again and grunted; she had just done exactly what Lisa had called her on in the first place. I … Nick is like a brother to me, you know?

Lisa laughed. Trust me, I know. How do you think I look at them?

Megan continued. He’s just this guy who’s always lived down the street from me, and I feel like if I say something to him about how I feel, he’s just going to blow me off.

Why would he do that?

Because … Megan didn’t truly have an answer for the question; she just knew how she felt.

That isn’t an answer, said Lisa. You know that.

How do I know he didn’t hook up with Smith while he was at school? Maybe they’re dating now or something like that.

Lisa blew a raspberry and shook her head. You and I both know that he didn’t say a word to Smith the entire year. He’s more comfortable watching her from his room at night. Lisa chuckled at her own comment and took a drag.

And that doesn’t bother you?

I’m not the one trying to date him. If it should bother anybody, it should bother you, not me.

Thanks for the support.

Whatever, Shorty! This is just you trying to find excuses not to do something about it! Listen, Nick is a good guy. We both know that. He’s the type of guy who will treat you right and … and love you like you should be loved. You know that. And sooner or later, some other girl is going to figure that out too. That girl he was dating at Dunn, what was her name?

Megan shuddered. She hated that she knew the tramp’s name. Amanda.

That’s right, Amanda! She probably knew he was a good guy. They’d probably still be together if Nick was still in school.

Megan was silent for several moments. This prompted Lisa to continue. Anyway, after spring break this year, I’m not sure if there’s any doubt that he feels something for you, Megs. You two were hanging all over each other.

Megan knew she was right; at least, about spring break. She and Nick had spent the final evening with their arms around each other, and they had remained that way through tequila shots and vomiting bouts. Megan shook her head at the thought. Damn it, she scolded herself.

You just did it again, Lisa said with a smile.

I know! Megan shouted. Then she began to chuckle. I just … I don’t know.

Lisa took a final drag from her cigarette and pitched the butt out the window. Yes, you do. You’ve known it for a while now. You’ve just gotta stop denying it to yourself. Just talk to him. You won’t know anything for sure until you do.

Megan knew she was right; hearing her friend say the words that she herself had been thinking made the whole thing click into place inside her mind, like puzzle pieces. Despite how she felt, she would never know anything unless she talked to Nick. Afraid or not, she had to do something.

I know, she said finally. I’m just … I’m scared, Leese.

Now Lisa showed the side of herself that made Megan feel even more guilty for wanting to desert her best friend; she rubbed one hand on Megan’s shoulder and said, I know, sweetie. I know you are.

~~

By one thirty, Nick was thoroughly toasted.

He, along with Kaz and Mulligan, was sitting on Kaz’s back porch, finishing off the last of what had turned out to be an hour-long blunt. They were gathered around an ancient wicker table with a glass top; in the center was an ashtray. The backyard was spread out behind them, perfectly landscaped. From here, there was no way any neighbor could see them. It was subtle, but the plants placed strategically around the yard hid them from view.

Behind Kaz, a battered black boom box was currently playing Lenny Kravitz’s Black Velveteen. Kaz himself was humming the song under his breath as it played.

After Mulligan took his last hit, he held the tiny roach up and asked, Anybody want to fuck with this?

Both Nick and Kaz shook their heads. Mulligan set the roach in the ashtray to let it go out.

Don’t forget that’s there, Kaz said. My mom will castrate me if she sees that.

Mulligan grinned. Don’t worry, chief, he said. I got this.

Kaz eyed him. I’m serious, Head. Don’t forget.

I told you, I got this. He patted his pockets, looking for his cigarettes. He withdrew a battered pack of Camel Lights from his right pocket and shook one out, jamming it between his lips.

Let me bum one of those, said Nick. I left mine at the house.

Cradle my balls first, said Mulligan, grinning. Then maybe I’ll think about it.

Do we need to remind you, Kaz began, of the time you broke your collar bone playing soccer junior year in high school? Remember how many cigarettes you stole by hiding them in your sling? Now cough it up, Potato Farmer. This was another oft-used nickname for Mulligan, used mostly by Kaz. It referred, of course, to Mulligan’s Irish heritage.

Mulligan handed Kaz one of the cigarettes and prepared to light his own, when Nick said, Hey, Head? Me too. A lot of those cigarettes you stole were mine.

Mulligan shook his head as he tossed a third cigarette to Nick, who caught it with one hand. Let’s go out front, Nick said. Better view.

You just wanna wait for Megan to get home, Kaz teased. You wanna get in those panties, don’t you?

Nick turned away from his friend and waved his hand dismissively. Knock that shit off, man. Seriously.

Mulligan stood up and stretched. You’ve been all about some Shorty ever since spring break, man. Think about it.

Sit and spin, said Nick, and he flipped Mulligan the bird.

The three walked through the house to the front porch, Mulligan carrying the ashtray in one hand. I’ll grab the radio, said Kaz, and he turned around. Nick and Mulligan continued on to the front door and out to the front stoop where a massive set of brick steps led up from a concrete walkway to the front door.

Nick sat down on one of the steps and lit his bummed cigarette. He took a drag as the front door opened. As Kaz joined them, he set the boom box down on the stoop and said, I got Red in the cut.

Nick laughed as Kaz pushed buttons on the boom box. He stepped back and took the lighter that Nick handed him, lighting his own cigarette as Redman’s I’ll Bee Dat began to play. Mulligan laughed and said, Good choice, Kaz.

Kaz passed the lighter back to Nick, who slipped it into his pocket. Check out the car in the driveway, Kaz said, pointing across the street.

Mulligan and Nick both looked. The silver Audi TT from the night before was parked at the top of the driveway, the garage in front of it open and empty. As they watched, a woman departed the house by way of the garage door and stepped into the sun.

She was quite pretty—tall and slender with long, honey-blond hair that was, at the moment, pulled back into a ponytail and held in place with white ribbon. Mulligan estimated her age to be somewhere in the mid to late twenties. She was without wrinkles that he could see on her face. She was wearing white shoes with what Nick guessed to be a three- or four-inch heel, and a matching white pantsuit. Sunglasses covered her eyes, and she had a cell phone glued to one ear—an ear that glimmered in the sun, Kaz saw, due to the diamond earrings she wore.

Damn, said Kaz.

I think that’s the woman we saw last night, Mulligan said. That’s the same car, so it’s gotta be her. Mulligan took a long drag from his smoke and turned his attention to the moving trucks across the street. Check it out. Looks like we called it. She’s moving in.

Burly men were lifting furniture out of the truck and using the lift gate built onto the back to lower it slowly to the ground. Other men were already carrying furniture into the house. From what Mulligan could see, most of it was darkly stained wood, elegantly carved—probably by hand—and fairly old.

Mulligan’s father, an executive with Bank of America, had a small woodworking shop in their garage, and in his spare time, to relieve stress, he would spend hours there, building furniture and other things for their extended family.

The woman crossed the yard toward the moving men and stopped. She shouted angrily into the phone. Mulligan listened closely and thought he recognized the language as French. When she hung up the phone with an angry punch of a button, she said, "Merde!" Mulligan nodded to himself. Definitely French.

But her accent was slight, not nearly as thick as the French he had heard spoken by his French teacher, Mr. DuBois, during the one and only semester of the language he had taken, during his junior year of high school. He had taken the class thinking he could meet girls; apparently, other guys had had the same idea.

And she’s French too, said Kaz. I like that.

She might not shave, though, said Nick. In France, they don’t do that, you know.

What the hell do you know about France? asked Mulligan.

As much as you know about Ireland, Captain Dome Piece, Nick retorted.

Fuck off, Mulligan said, waving his hand dismissively. At least me and Kaz know where we come from, you mutt.

Hey, said Kaz, I come from two places. Kaz’s mother was African American and had been born in Jamaica, Queens, but his father had been full-blooded Cherokee.

Whatever, Nick said, and he took a drag from his dwindling cigarette. At least the Hoffmanns took their little brat daughter with them when they left.

Yeah, agreed Mulligan. That girl had some issues.

More than issues. She had serious problems. Like too much coke at too young an age.

Out of control, agreed Kaz.

The boys smoked their cigarettes in silence after that, watching the woman as she ordered the moving men around, pointing and shouting and occasionally cursing in French. Furniture, now including sofas, bed frames, and what looked to Mulligan like some sort of liquor cabinet, was removed from the trucks by the moving men and carried into the house, each time with specific instructions from the French woman.

Nick butted his smoke out in the ashtray. So. You guys got any big plans for the afternoon?

Nope. Why, you got something in mind?

Nick smiled. PlayStation is itching for a Madden matchup.

Mulligan laughed and said, You mean you’re itching for an ass whooping.

Nick tapped the side of his head. I’ve learned from my mistakes. And I’ve been playing it twice a week for the last two months. I think you’re going down today, sir.

A challenge! shouted Kaz. Come on, let’s make this happen.

Mulligan shook his head. Hope you got a spare controller. You’re gonna break the one you have when I whoop your ass.

Keep talking shit, said Nick. Just wait.

Kaz switched off the radio and ducked into the house to stow it in his room. Then he rejoined Mulligan and Nick on the front stoop, locking the door behind him. Let’s do this, he said.

As the three boys crossed Kaz’s yard to Nick’s own, Mulligan heard the familiar growl of an engine, and before he could stop himself, he moaned, Oh shit.

What? asked Kaz, but he could now hear it as well, and he added a moan of his own. Oh, wonderful, he said. A heavy bass beat, one that Kaz could feel in his bones, had now joined the heavy rasp of the engine.

A red 2004 Ford Mustang GT convertible revved its engine as it rounded the corner of Meadow View near the Aherns’ house. The driver slowed the vehicle and crept past both Kaz’s and Nick’s houses under twenty miles an hour. The passenger window was open, and the boys could just catch a glimpse of mirrored sunglasses in the driver’s seat. Mulligan also caught a glimpse of blond hair in the passenger seat; it was difficult to see much with the Mustang’s tinted windows. But she was inside, Mulligan knew. And he didn’t like it.

The Mustang’s driver revved the engine a second time as the vehicle passed Nick’s driveway, then suddenly increased its speed and tore off down the road, leaving skid marks in its wake and the smell of burnt rubber.

Motherfucker. Seriously? said Mulligan. He began to power walk through the grass toward the street.

Kaz took several jogging steps and caught up with him. Let it go, Kaz said. At least for now.

That fucking prick, Mulligan muttered. He knew, man, he knew—

I know, said Kaz, now adopting a soothing tone. I know. He used to be our boy—

And now he’s just a piece of shit, said Nick as the two joined him on his own front porch. I can’t believe we ever hung out with him.

And you know where he’s going, right? Mulligan continued as if he hadn’t heard Nick at all. He’s going down the street to Tessa Palmer’s house so Claire can see her.

Claire was in the car? asked Nick as he unlocked his front door and pushed it open. I didn’t see her.

Kaz made a motion, drawing one hand under his neck several times, meant to alert Nick that it was time to change the subject. Nick nodded slightly and said, Anyway, you’ve got a game to focus on, soccer boy. So get your mind right, and let’s do this.

Mulligan shook his head. I’ve got other things on my mind right this moment. Like how best to get even with that asshole.

Can you get even for something like that? Nick asked. I mean—

I sure can, Mulligan interrupted, his voice becoming dark. In fact, you guys got any plans for tonight?

Nick shrugged. Besides the get-together tonight, nothing.

What about you, Kaz?

Kaz grinned at Mulligan and said, Just your mom. Other than that—

Shut up, dickhead, Mulligan interrupted, his voice tense. I’m being serious here.

Kaz laughed and said, I got nothing. What did you have in mind?

Mulligan’s grin was pure evil; his eyes told the other two boys all they needed to know.

Oh, shit, said Nick.

That’s right. Follow me, said Mulligan, and he led them into Nick’s house with that evil grin still on his face.

CHAPTER TWO: RETALIATION

An hour outside of Green Park, while Intergalactic played over the Corolla’s stereo, Lisa lifted her purse from the floorboard and said, I can’t take it any longer. I’ve been trying to save it for when we get home, but I think Blake will be able to help us out.

No, Megan began, you didn’t.

Lisa pulled a pack of Parliament Lights out of her purse and flipped it open. The interior was barren except for a single joint. Lisa pulled the joint, slim on the ends and fat in the center, out of the empty cigarette pack and held it up for Megan to see. I sure did.

Hold that shit down, Megan said. Are you trying to get us nailed?

Lisa laughed and shook her head. There’s nobody on the road right now! Perfect time! We were even the last people to leave our dorm—

No, we weren’t, Megan interrupted. Now you’re just making shit up. What’s-her-name, the redhead down the hall—she was still there. And so were the two girls across from us.

Lisa waved her hand as she tucked the joint between her lips. Whatever, Shortsky. You’re missing the point. Forget it. Shall I fire it up or what?

Megan shook her head, wearing a smile, and said, Sure, go for it.

Excellent. Lisa took a lighter to the joint’s twisted end, inhaling deeply. She coughed and took another hit before passing it on to Megan. Be careful. It’s that good green from Andy. You know, the guy who lives in Hollander House across campus?

Megan nodded as she took a hit; she did indeed know Andy from Hollander House. He had once spent an evening at a frat party whose attendance Megan now considered ill advised, trying to get deep into her panties. Failing that, he became an asshole. Yeah, she said, holding her hit as best she could, I know the guy. He’s scum.

True, said Lisa, but he has the goods.

Megan took a second hit and passed the joint back to Lisa.

~~

Mulligan led the way to Nick’s bedroom—down the stairs, to the right, and down the hall.

The Monroe house was built in the same fashion as Kaz’s house, and the Vittorio house down the street. From the road, it appeared to be a one-story house. But upon entry, there was a staircase five feet outside of the foyer that led down to a large entertainment room with a fireplace, as well as two extra bedrooms and a laundry room with a mud sink. Kaz’s house had the same floorplan but in reverse; where Nick’s kitchen was on the left side of the house, Kaz’s was on the right. The bedrooms were switched to the opposite side of the house as well. Directly outside of the entertainment room on the left was a two-vehicle car port, and to the right of it was a single car garage. Out of the three, only Mulligan did not live in a house like this; His was a simple ranch design. This design was used throughout the neighborhood, as it had been popular in the 1970’s when the neighborhood was first built.

Nick’s room was one of the two downstairs. It was adorned the way anyone his age would decorate. There was a poster on his closet door of Anna Kournikova dressed in a red swimsuit. Above his bed was a poster for the Tom Berenger film, The Substitute, whose edges were now worn and torn in several places. A Marilyn Manson poster was tacked to the wall next to a Garbage poster showing Shirley Manson in all her rock star glory. There was an old Predator poster tacked up behind the computer desk, on which rested an already-obsolete desktop PC. A dresser sat in front of the windows, a small television and the portable stereo set up on top of it. A rack of CDs rose from the floor next to the dresser, nearly filled to capacity.

Nick went to the stereo and turned it on, flipping a selector switch to the radio setting. Immediately, the tail end of Lifehouse’s Hanging by a Moment filled the room. Mulligan gagged as he sat down on the futon. I hate this fucking song, he hissed.

Claire? asked Nick, and Mulligan simply nodded.

Before Nick could switch the station, the song came to an end. It was replaced by a voice—a female voice that each boy knew and had loved from his youth. Hello, my little droogies! This is Dex, and you’re listening to 97 FM, WTRK, The Rock. Looks like another gorgeous day outside as we head into summer proper. Hey, so I got another Power Block coming up here in a few minutes, just as soon as we get these commercials out of the way. I’m Dex, and I’ll be back in a few. The DJ signed off, and an insurance commercial began to play.

Mulligan shook his head and said, I haven’t heard her in a while, man.

She does a late-night show on Sunday nights now, said Nick. All metal for an hour straight.

So you’re happy, said Kaz, grinning at Nick.

Oh, yeah.

So what’s the evil plan, Mulligan? Kaz asked. That smile earlier says you’ve already got one brewing in your mind.

Mulligan rubbed his hands together and smiled. I got a doozy.

So give, said Nick. What’s the deal?

What’s the only thing in the world that Vittorio loves?

Nick and Kaz shared a brief look and Kaz answered, That car. His Mustang.

That’s right, said Mulligan. His Mustang. So shiny and pretty. Well, it won’t be when we get finished with it.

Point of order, said Nick. You’re fucking with a man’s automobile. That’s one of the rules, you know.

What rules? asked Kaz.

Nick ticked the points off on his fingers. You don’t tug on Superman’s cape, you don’t piss into the wind, you don’t pull off the Lone Ranger’s mask, and you don’t fuck with another man’s automobile.

He stole Claire from him! shouted Kaz.

Nick took a deep breath. I get that. All I’m saying is, I don’t want to help start a war that’s going to last all summer. If we do this, we do it right. Black on black. No witnesses.

How else would we do it? Mulligan asked sarcastically. It only works if he doesn’t see us.

Nick nodded. Okay. I’m in. Specifically, what’d you have in mind?

The usual. Eggs, toilet paper, shaving cream. Flour is always fun. Maybe a few condoms to cap things off, you know?

I like it, said Kaz. Simple but elegant. He nodded. I’m in too.

Good, said Mulligan. Then we need to hit the grocery store in a few hours. Obviously we won’t do it until it gets dark later, before we hit the bamboo forest—

Or maybe after, said Nick. He’ll be out with Claire, more than likely. We can wait for him to get home for the night and hit it while he’s asleep.

I like that, said Mulligan, but the only problem is alcohol. I won’t be too spry if we’ve been drinking beer all night.

True, admitted Nick. Then we should hit it before the bamboo forest.

Agreed, said Kaz.

The issue now settled, the boys turned to Nick’s PlayStation and his copy of Madden ’01.

Mulligan and Nick battled each other for the next two and a half hours, screaming curses at each other and hurling insults back and forth. It was brutal for both of them; for Kaz, it was pure entertainment.

The boys, without realizing it, returned to the roles that each fulfilled in their tiny, three-person group—Nick was the angry one, Mulligan was the sarcastic one, and Kaz was the jokey one. After his fifth loss in a row, Nick threw the controller to the floor and grunted loudly. Fine, you win, he said to Mulligan. I’m out.

Mulligan laughed heartily and said, See? Told you. My skills are unsurpassed at this game.

Unsurpassed, huh? asked Nick. You learn that vocabulary word in college, Head?

I sure did. It really helps you pay attention when there’s a super-hot professor teaching the class.

So what now? asked Kaz. You feel up to a game, Mulligan?

I will destroy you, son, Mulligan said. Watch me.

~~

Megan lit a cigarette as Lisa dropped the joint roach out her open window.

The stereo was blasting Burning Down the House by The Talking Heads, and Megan bobbed her head lightly to the beat. She took a long drag from her smoke and ashed it out the window.

You looking forward to tonight? Lisa asked her.

Yeah, Megan answered. It’ll be nice to see everybody again. This whole college thing, it’s strange …

Tell me about it, said Lisa. I feel like we’re all … losing each other.

Megan kept her expression neutral; she felt the same way.