Leave No Trace 6

Watch Them from the Fire

It is not so bad with five boys in the tent. Curiosity satisfied, Vili returned Ade to the Scouts. The five of them feel better on their own. There is probably some meat left in the Scoutmaster’s tent. The only silver lining to all the defections is that the remaining food has been stretched out. There never is enough. Mike and Ronald are not convinced it is being shared. The boys play cards, argue endlessly about games. They take turns narrating the plots of their favorite movies and find ways to argue about that too.

Joey mostly lies on Denys when he wants to. Sometimes at night, when Joey thinks the three boys are sleeping, he plays with Denys’ dick. There is satisfaction in knowing the boy needs to finish as much as he does. Joey tries kissing the eleven-year-old like Vili used to kiss him, tongues exchanging bad breath and spit. Neither of them like that. Joey is not shy about the humping. Just get it done, like meeting someone at the shitlog.

If Mike and Ronald see Joey lying on Denys, it is like they just remembered all about the tent stuff. They might take turns humping Ade, just to show they have the nuts to do it too. Joey just sneers at their humping. He might ignore them, or he might tell Denys he wants special help. The mouth thing Vili taught Joey. After a few days, the twelve-year-olds give up. There is no point competing with Joey’s dick.

It is not all cards and stories. The rain is maddening and only a few of them brought raincoats. It is pussy to look like Christopher Robin. They would rather come back to their tent soaked through. Needs must, the Cubs fan out looking for things to put in the big cook pot. The Scouts gather wood to add to the piles in the unused tents, then Vili helps them finish the raft. Alistair tries to fish and Bernie stands about looking like Christopher Robin until someone reminds him his job is to feed the fire underneath the tarp.

Vili loves problem solving with the Scouts. It will be simple, but it has to hold a man’s weight; even one who has lost 25 lbs from the look of the way his pants hang low on his hips. “Enough for one boy, and room for two more coming back,” Vili thinks the boys on the farther shore will be grateful for the rescue. Vili settles on a trimaran design. A heavy central log with two out runners. Ronald is cutting up one tent for rope and fabric decking. “We can make the paddles tonight.” The three Scouts look miserable in the driving rain.

Vili’s body has never felt this good. The boys are dressed in anything that is warm, but Vili is Ghandi-naked in his hiking boots and revealing cutoffs. At this point, Vili is not clear on whether it is the rifle, the pistol, or his heavy manhood that garners the camp’s respect. Once upon a time, it was the way he could charm the boys in his troop. Life is more elemental on the island. The chill rain soothes the fever, but it cannot quench it.

“Let’s try it out,” Ronald suggests when they are finished.

“There are no paddles.” The three Scouts are disappointed, so Vili relents. “You boys can put it in the water. Joey, you need a line on it so it does not get away from you.” Vili looks to the sky. “The rain will stop tomorrow. When it is clear, we can take it out for a try. You boys might want to take some clothes off. You’re going to get wet.”

“We are already wet!” Mike grouses.

Vili watches the boys strip down under the dripping tarp. They all huddle close to the fire for a moment, basking in the heat as Vili basks in their different forms. Cold as they are, the boys are still excited to try their raft. They skitter back to the water’s edge.

“Can I go with them?” Bernie asks. His glasses are smudged or fogged from the fire.

“Later, dear, we can watch them from the fire. Come, let’s warm each other up while we watch Joey and the boys.” Vili gently takes the glasses off the button nose. Bernie sees nothing of the Scouts’ first foray on the water. Vili pets the tangled hair and presses Bernie closer to his need. The three Scouts clamber across the bobbing raft, the icy fingers penetrating their emaciated torsos momentarily forgotten. Vili watches in his bliss.

Olly Olly Oxen Free

Joey is on top of Denys. He is lying very still, just striving to master his domain for as long as he can. This is not easy, because thirteen is not a patient (dick) age. A forearm is locked around his captive’s throat. This is supposed to keep Denys still. Unfortunately, Joey’s other hand has wandered down the boy’s rib rack to his flank. It is like Joey is stroking his own dick, because Joey’s fingers are making Denys tense his bum and that travels right to Joey’s impatient dick. Joey can’t stop stroking and Denys can’t stop tensing, even when Joey applies a bit more pressure to his forearm.

“Say, you hear that?” Ronald sits up beside Joey. Ronald punches the mound that is Mike’s body.

“Fuck off Ron.” Mike punches him again to gain his attention. The rousing alerts Ade as well.

“No seriously dudes, I hear a boat.”

Denys tries to throw Joey off his back. He hears it too. Joey decides that is not going to happen. For the moment, all Joey is hearing is the blood pounding in his ears.

“No, yeah,” Ronald says.

“What are you talking about? … Shut up and listen! … What’s he talking about? … Fuck there is a boat! … Yeah, I hear it too!” The three boys start knocking up against each other in their haste to yank clothes on. Denys starts bucking and Joey won’t let the Cub up until he gets his finish.

Vili’s ears are not as young-boy-sensitive as his pack. The pontoon boat’s Evinrude is just a base throbbing at the start. Alistair is holding his knees, mind drifting somewhere as Vili takes a mouthful of Bernie.

“There’s a boat coming,” Alistair remarks with far less excitement than the other tent exhibited. It is just a fact Alistair thinks Vili ought to pay attention to. Alistair looks around the tent, deciding what he should wear. He feels the tension of anticipated disappointment; like the hopeful report of Vili’s rifle in the forest, followed by the man’s return to camp (indifferently) empty-handed.

The sound of the motor is now quite distinct. Vili pulls away from between Bernie’s thighs. “Well, just like I said, they found us.” The man’s voice is tranquil. His tumultuous serge is just another thing he must ignore, like constant hunger or the cold. From the moment he shot Howard, this has been the last parade. There never was uncertainty about the outcome. Well, almost; this has been more like flipping a coin. He had kept it in the air as long as he could, and now the coin is landing heads, not tails.

Alistair is dressing himself. He wants to join the other boys. Vili can see it in his haste. Vili’s special friend (whispered first in the dark church storeroom). It comes to Vili that he does not know what the eleven-year-old is thinking. The openness between them is purely visceral. If the man was not half starved, sociopathic in this final self indulgence, he would have known their consummations served different ends. Alistair offers Vili a smile of relief.

Bernie is a good boy. Bernie still rests with his knees splayed out. The little boy’s smile is more uncertain. The whole camping trip has been a vast uncertainty for the nine-year-old. Youngest in the group, he was anxious to measure up, keep up. Vili smiles his regret and snatches a last chance to touch the boy. “See, I said your mom would find you. We are all going to be okay. What do you think? Should we go out and see who is here?” Bernie nods his head.

Alistair is already out of the tent, so Vili is left to make sure Bernie puts warm clothing on. Bernie scrambles out to join the other boys. Vili is left to his muddled thoughts. “How to sort this development out?” They seem to be rescued, but have the dominoes fallen back in the city? Has this month or so provided time for the police to link Dane Poole’s computer (Dane cutting deals) to Vili’s hard drives? “It must be so,” the man decides. He reaches for his cutoffs, then selects a fresh pair of shorts. Like an officer on his way to court martial, Vili knows he should wear his Scoutmaster uniform. He straps on his pistol and hefts the rifle that killed the moose. It is uncertain what he plans to do with them. Vili does not care one way or another at this point.

“It was going to be a plane,” Vili puzzles. He looks off, all the way to the end of the lake where they brought the pontoon boat through the channel. There is nothing on the water, but the crescendo of a heavy outboard contradicts his eyes. The answer breaks free from the gap between the island and the far shore. The missing pontoon boat is plowing through the water cautiously with his missing Cubs. Two of the boys lean over the bow railing, scanning the water for obstructions. The other two are by the helm.

Scouts and Cubs are shouting greetings, laughing with each other. Only Joey seems to understand the rubicon before them. Joey stands behind the others, slowly drawing his pants over a naked crotch. Vili draws a sharp breath of northern morning into his lungs. It is like a cocaine-rush, fresh endorphin bliss. Vili closes his eyes and lets the morning light suggest that this will be another good day on the island. He joins his boys. Mike smiles his joy at Vili and the man smiles back. Why not? In an unexpected turn, his luck has changed again. The coin has not landed. It is the eastern sun spinning brightly down on him.

The man settles his rifle in the crook of his arm and waves a benevolent hello to the returning Cubs. Vili patiently waits for Lech to cut the motor. The pontoon boat cuts through the water for a moment as the cautious progress meets some wind and water resistance. Vili calls out in his warmest greeting, “Well done boys! All of you, well done! Just throw us a line and we will pull the boat up the beach.’ Vili can work with this.

There is this persistent discordant note to the melodic sound of young boys around him. Otter is back. This simply ordinary boy is there beside Lech. Sten’s eyes have been counting boys on the beach. Vili underestimated the boy. If Joey and Otter had — but instead, the boy ran away. Their eyes connect.

There are no illusions between this boy and Vili. The man recognizes the shirt wrapped around the boy’s thin waist. He even wears Howard’s knife and belt. The boy knows, and from the wary looks of the two boys sitting at the bow, all four of them know. One boy might disappear, but four? One boy or two might be discarded, leaving the others to mourn. They all still look up to you. You can make them understand the necessity in some way, Vili can stitch these thoughts together. There was never uncertainty about the final outcome. Vili Jaša Žitnik just keeps tossing the dice, wondering how the roll will end. “Mike, Ron, you boys go out and get the line. When we get the boys ashore, we’ll all celebrate around the fire.”

Otter folds his arms across his chest. “No Sir; we are going home.” The boys with him seem equally intractable. “We just came to get the guys.”

Lech grins beside Sten. He cups his palms and yells, “Olly olly oxen free!” The four boys on the pontoon boat look at each other and laugh. “Don’t just stand there guys! Grab what you want and get your asses over here!”

The first to move is Denys. He stalks past all the boys and scoops up Bernie. Without a word, he is wading into the water towards the boat. It does not matter how deep it gets, he is going to get onto the boat. The water rises to his chest. Sten is there at the stern ladder to help Bernie get aboard.

Then Ade moves toward the water. “Ade, you forgot your pants Dude. You need your coat!” Stephen and David start laughing at him. Ade looks anxious-undecided. “Dude, we’re not going anywhere. Go get your stuff.”  Ade still hesitates. “Go man, go!”

Vili moves to stand between his remaining boys and the lure of the pontoon boat. Otter is there, looking ludicrously Brave Heart in the tartan kilt. He is a little savage from the wilderness with incongruous running shoes and shirtsleeve leggings winched below his knees. Vili starts offering praise for Sten’s survival skills, weaving his importance back to the island’s continued success. The man is thinking about Sten lying in his tent (without the heavy knife).

When Ade comes back, Stephen calls out, “grab the pot, maybe the big spoon too.”

“Boys, we need to talk this over. There are things to pack. Everyone needs to catch their breath.” All this is said in Vili’s most seductive tones. “Boys, you need to think this through.” This is all slipping away from Vili. He needs a new hook to keep the boys in line. Joey stands completely unresponsive. Vili sees no help from his first boy. Ade simply dumps the water from the pot onto the fire. Would the Scouts hold Ade back, stop the hemorrhage?

Alistair surprises him. He walks past with his shoulder bag. He does not even glance at Vili as he strides into the surf.

All the Cubs have left the beach. All through this, the Scouts have stood uncertain. Mike bites his lip and Ronald is just rooted to the beach. Joey thinks he is not welcome either. Sten frowns. “Mike, Ronald, what are you waiting for? Clock’s ticking, guys! You don’t want to stay here, do you?” The pair grin their relief and leave the beach behind. There is a cheer from the boat at their defection.

There is just the man and Joey on the beach. Joey has felt the dull numbness that has overtook Vili. He too is cold and hungry. Since they were stranded, he just feels like he has been buffeted by every emotion. He knew before the others, well not Stephen with his never saying what he thinks, the campers were likely not going to be found. Maybe it was Joey who failed to tie the pontoon up that second night. He has always trusted his Scoutmaster. It was easier to follow where Vili led. Vili taught him to distrust his doubts years ago. Just like when he was eleven, when Vili told him in the storeroom they were destined to be together, here they both were, alone on a rocky beach. Vili always made it sound like Joey had a choice. It did not feel like it back then. It doesn’t feel like that now. Joey remains rooted, striving to find an indifference that will mask the tears.

Vili’s mind is following a similar path. He is one step further than Joey. These boys will leave them, try to leave them; probably get lost. If they don’t get lost, then the coin toss still stays heads. Someone will come for him and Joey. The new raft sits on the beach. Perhaps Joey can be induced to cross the channel and hide out in the forest. The coin comes up tails if they do that (with winter coming), but each day is a victory. Vili turns to Joey, planning to explain this all to him. They will brave the end together.

“Joey, Joey, Joey, Joey,” the chanting starts low and builds with the excitement of the boys on the pontoon boat. Joey blinks a little, feels the tears in his eyes betray him. He is not sure what the boys are saying, but he hopes each Joey is a coaxing reassurance and not the rejection he knows he has earned. Someone shouts out, “Red rover, red rover, send Joey right over.” Vili’s hand on his shoulder is shrugged free. Joey is sprinting to the water and the boys on the boat are laughing at their total victory.

Joey’s dash for freedom shakes Vili out of his lethargy. He slowly shifts the rifle so that he can sight it on Joey’s back. They have been first lovers, willing partners on the island. Of all the people on the island, Vili’s first boy, who understands Vili best, who shares his need, he should not be allowed to just walk away.

The boys return to chanting Joey as Vili’s first boy wades through the water toward the pontoon boat. Vili shifts his aim and the rifle barrel tracks across the chanting boys. He wants them all to stop their noise. He wants their joy to end. The rifle drops back towards Joey and his finger finds the trigger, but the evolution stops when Vili is distracted by Sten in the red kilt. He is up on a bench. Sten stands, arms outstretched to make himself look bigger. It is like he is daring Vili to shoot him.

Vili holds the rifle steady on the blasted boy. It is just them. The rest have faded from Vili’s mind. Sten looks impassively back. Slowly, Vili returns the rifle to the crook of his arm. He feels an upwelling of pure malice for this self-assured boy. Otter started it all when he vanished-not-vanished. Somehow the Cub Scout lingered, poisoning the perfection of the island. The chatter on the boat subsides when Joey climbs on deck. The boys have turned to Sten. Vili calls across to the boy, still standing on the bench.

“You may feel like you’re a hero Otter, but just remember, Cam and Devon’s deaths, they are not on me. All I did was try to keep them safe. I was keeping them safe. I did not put those boys in the water. You did.” Perhaps this is a last desperate cast of the dice to bring the other boys back to him. At any rate, Vili can leave that poison with the boy.

Sten does not respond. Lech calls, “Fuck you, Zit.” The boy at the helm starts up the motor and the pontoon boat pulls away.

Further into the Unknown

“♪♫♬ Na na na na, na na na na, hey hey, goodbye ♪♫♬”

The boys’ singing can just be deciphered under the powerful whine of the pontoon boat’s outboard motor. Vili watches the boat receding in the right direction. “They will figure it out soon enough. They have no idea where they are going.” Joey paid attention on the way out. The other boys just played about. It does not matter how much Joey can remember. Vili has the map. “They might come back discouraged.” At any rate, Otter is not going to look like such a hero to them when they realize they left everything behind.

Vili indulges in the briefest fantasy that the boys return. He either shoots Otter as a lesson, or takes the boy (Sans tartan kilt) to his tent. Without the boys, Vili is back with his imaginings. You’ve never forced a boy, Vili prefers seduction and playing on their insatiable fascination with their transforming bodies. Would he struggle?

His mind drifts at this point. When Vili comes back to himself, the pontoon boat is a reckless spot in the distance. He turns to look at the deserted camp. This is a disappointment. The Cubs may have been taught no better. Blame that on Howard, but Vili’s boys knew better than to leave a campsite like this.

Ade forgot the fire. Vili adds a pile from the tent. As he watches branches begin to smoke, he strips. Without looking, Vili sucks in his stomach. From his manhood, heavy with the memory of boys, he runs his fingers up his torso to his rib cage. Pleased with himself, he goes back to his tent to change back into the cutoffs.

He is in no hurry to pack. Some things go on the fire. Some things will not burn. Howard told him once after a Pack meeting in the church basement, that he could ask his little boys to police the room, and he could still find someone’s something left about. “Look, it’s a sock! How does a boy forget his sock!” The socks will burn. Vili adds them to the fire.

Vili decides to keep the smallest tent. He leaves it on the cobbles near the raft. The large Coleman cooler is there. When he finds something useful, he adds it to his pile. Sometimes he has second thoughts and an item is consumed by the growing fire. The map is gone. Vili needs it now. Alistair, after everything Vili showered on the eleven-year-old boy. That stings. The map seems the only thing the boy has stolen from him.

Most of the boys brought sports bags, like Vili did. Day packs were enough for hiking. He dumps most of the contents on the fire, and adds more wood. He wants to burn it all. Vili tips up a log they used as a bench. He lets it fall on the fire.

In the end, the man leaves one of the tents prominently on the shore. He packs it with the synthetic products that will not burn. The police will find everything he left behind and take them safely away. His carefully folded Scouting shirt is just inside the tent.

Vili watches the fire burn down. Some moose jerky just upsets his stomach, so he spits it out. Down on the shore, the raft is packed with what he needs. The final tent, the fire, the raft, and Vili; that is all that is left. Vili puts his guitar on the fire. His fist clenches the barrel of the rifle and he rests his forehead on the muzzle.

He is not sad. He is not sorry. What a waste it would have been to sit at home waiting for the axe to fall. A condemned man gets his final meal, and Vili has fed very well. He does not gloat. It was just one step following the other, as if Vili walked a tangled trail, letting his feet find their own way to his destination. He regrets he did not have more time and one more boy.

Vili takes a final look around the island campsite. He has been blessed with a warm day. He checks the load, insuring it is secure. Without further thought, Vili pushes his raft out onto the lake. The current Sten struggled to cross six weeks earlier pushes him gently toward the mouth of the river. It is a choice. Vili stops paddling. It is like just another coin toss.

Vili scratches his beard. He fed on boys, and now that they have stopped satisfying his hunger, he is conscious of the gut ache. The moose meat is nearly gone. Vili takes a piece to chew on. His teeth grind away while he waits for the water to make up its mind.

The water decides his raft should drift into the river where Brother Bear prowls along the rocks. The river sweeps Vili further along, following Howard Palmer’s path further into the unknown.