We shouldn't be in here in the woods. The woods are private property. They belong to the Massachusetts Water Company. MASSCO does everything that they can to keep trespassers out. They even have their own police patrolling their reservoirs. And there are these big signs on the fences that read “No Trespassing- Fine $200”. It's right on the sign on the fence we just crawled under. If we got caught here our parents would have to pay.
It's Tuesday morning and Billy and me are tramping through the reservoir woods with our fishing rods slung over our shoulders. Fishing is our life and this reservoir is the best place for bass fishing in all of New England. I am now 15 and I've been fishing here for four years. I guess I'll continue to fish here until they catch me.
The woods are thick with spruce and pine and as we walk through them they seem a mile high and there's a musty smell in the air. I take a deep breath. It's still chilly from the night before maybe 45 or 50 and we're wearing t-shirts and shorts. But the morning cold doesn't stop us and we continue through the woods down the slope. Finally the reservoir comes into sight and there's a slight mist floating right above the water.
Not only are we trespassers but we're also hooky players. We should be in school. It's second period now, Miss Payne's Geometry class, but it's no contest. Fishing is far more inviting on a beautiful May morning. Tomorrow Billy and me will write notes excusing our absences and sign our mothers' names to them. We've been doing this for some time now and no one seems to mind.
If we were in school about now I'd be sitting in the class starting to get bored looking out the window wishing I was outside. Well Bill and me know better. We took maters into our own hands and here we are. Even though we've only been out here a short time it's a thrill already anticipating the catch.
The woods are sloped down towards the reservoir and as we walk down the hill for ground is soft and mossy and there are clusters of ferns sprouting here and there. There's something I like about ferns. Maybe it's the way they're shaped or the way they stand. They have nobility about them.
It's still damp from last night's downpour and there are vividly colored toadstools scattered around the trees. They seem to crop up after a heavy rain. The woods are wet and shining and more beautiful than any place else. I feel an eager freshness as I approach the water.
Bill is my fishing partner and best friend since second grade, since we move to town. He had grown a lot in the last year and is now maybe an inch or two taller than me and got wider. Now he's got about 20 pounds on me and is close to six feet. His face is red and when he lifts something it gets even redder and his arm muscles are now starting to show results from the weightlifting he's been doing lately. His hair brown and close cropped and he's got a slight mole on his chin.
We're in high school and have most of our classes together. We play ball together do everything together. He's walking to my right with his fishing pole slung over his right shoulder and his tackle box in his left hand. He's really quite a fisherman. His father took him fishing when he was old enough to walk and he's quite good. He can almost smell where the fish are. I've only been doing it since I met him in the second grade. But now I'm almost as good as he is.
As we come closer to the reservoir he nudges me, "Hey Jack, look over there." He points down the hill to the right by the reservoir.
"Over there. See that blue car by the water?"
"Yea, it looks like Mr. Fisher's Ford."
Mr. Fisher owns the hardware store in town. He knows everything about fixing houses. His store has millions of little nails, screws and clips in these bins. If you need anything he knows just how to help you. There was this one time when I poked the whole in one of the screens on the back window. He gave me a patch and I was able to fix it. He didn't even charge me for it.
His wife Gladys works with him in the store. They argue a lot. Last week when I was in there they were arguing and she was giving him an earful. She's got this high-pitched voice. He just stood there and took it. Whew! I felt sorry for him.
"Yeah! What's it doing down here," he asks.
The car must be about 100 yards off to our right and we start cutting diagonally through the woods towards it.
"The front-end is off the dirt road in the water. The hood is practically submerged. Old man Fisher might have had a few too many and been driving too fast."
“His wife must have driven him to drink. She's mean to him,” I said. “She's so picky and nasty. And she has that voice. ”
“Nah his foot probably slipped off the brake or maybe he misjudged the distance.”
We're approaching the car from behind it now coming down the dirt road and through the rear window we both saw it.
"Look!" Bill says. "There are two heads sticking up in the front seat."
"Holy shit! What are they doing here?"
There was some brush between the car and us and we angled around the driver's side to get closer.
As we got a little bit closer it hit me.
"Oh, the smell, I think I'm going to puke," I said.
"Look at that. Its Mr. Fisher and Miss Watson, the librarian and they're not moving. They're dead. What's he doing with her? Look at their eyes. Some animals must have gotten to them."
"Yuk Look at all those ants crawling on them. They must have been out here for a few days."
"I don't see any blood or bullet holes. "
I walked a few yards back towards the woods and puked that my guts up.
"Man, let's get out of here," Bill says.
His face is real red now.
"I'm with you."
"Don't know. It doesn't look like anything happened to them. "
"I've never seen anything like this. I saw my grandfather Harold laid out at McNally's but that was nothing like this."
As we walked back from the lake I was trying to put it out of my mind and at the same time figure out what must have happened. But I don't have a clue.
"Should we tell the cops?"
"What do we say about our trespassing," Bill asks. "What do we say about playing hooky from school? We'd be in deep shit. They might even think we killed them."
"What was he doing down here with Ms. Watson? Who's going to tell Mrs. Fisher?"
"Let's just get the fuck out of here. We can think about what do while we walk," Bill says.
We head back up the hill not saying the word walking silently for a few minutes. I'm still sniffling from the puke.
"Let's call the police and tell them what happened,” I said. “We could do it from a pay phone so no one would know who was calling."
"Nah, they record all the conversations and would recognize our voices. The sheriff knows us and he's mean. They say when he gets people inside the police station he really hurts them. Just looking at him gives me the Willie's."
"So what we do just leave them here,” I said.
"The principal and my father are mean too,” Bill says. “ They'd kick my ass and I'd be grounded for months. I'd never get my license."
"It could be weeks before somebody finds them. They've already been out here rotting for a couple of days. Don't you think we should do something?"
"Let's wait and see. Hell, they're ready dead and whether we report them or not won't change that. And it won't help us. Just get us in a lot of hot water."
We walked back towards home and I'm trying to figure out what to do. Bill lives the next block over from me on Elm Street.
“Shit Bill, there's two dead people out there. Dead people. We've got to do something.”
He poked me in the shoulder and said, "Let's be cool about this. Don't say anything to anybody until we figure out what to do and how to do it. Let's sleep on it."
We parted company. It was 3:00 now and I would return home from school as though nothing had happened. But I wasn't feeling that way.
*********
That night I can't sleep. I keep thinking about them sitting in that car. It's creepy. To find two people we know your whole life dead in a car that's too much. I can't get it out of my head. I keep seeing Mr. Fisher's decaying face with the ants crawling on it all night.
The next day I go to school but I'm a wreck. I can't keep my head off the desk. I see Billy before Geometry and he looks like he just stepped out of a shower. He's neat as a pin like nothing had happened.
"Hey man you look like a wreck, "he says.
"I am. You look like you got a good night's sleep. I couldn't sleep a wink. We need to do something. We need to tell somebody”
“Jack, they're already dead. Our reporting this won't change that. It'll just get us in trouble, lots of trouble. Let's think about it for another day.”
"I need to tell somebody. I can't wait another day."
"Toughen up man and give it some time. Besides we've got a big ballgame this afternoon. We've got to stay focused on that. "
I do feel miserable. Down deep I know I should report it. But I don't. I must be soft in the head but I listen to him and wait.
We're both on the High School baseball team, the Hilltop Green waves. Bill's the first baseman and I'm shortstop. That afternoon the team travels to the Rogersville, the next town over. On the trip over I still think about the two of them sitting there dead in that car. How can I be here on this bus when they're down there? I can't seem to get them out of my mind. But then the excitement of the upcoming game takes over and I'm swept up in it. We're playing the Rogersville Raiders, our archrivals. The game's intense. My adrenaline takes over. It's nothing to nothing through the first five innings. I make a couple of good fielding plays and in the seventh I hit a liner to right and drive in the winning run. Now I'm a hero. Everyone's slapping me on the back. I'm excited. The team goes out afterwards to Henley's and the team celebrates. It's burgers and ice cream for everybody. By the time I get home I'm tired but happy. I go to sleep that night and sleep like a log. When I wake up the next morning I feel much better. The incident seems further away now. My head is clear and I can smell the bacon frying downstairs.
***
Two days later, on Thursday school ends early and we cut back by the reservoir to see what's going on. It's sunny and pretty hot, and as we walk through the woods I'm breathing in that soft sweet odor from the trees.
We cut over by the road and walk down towards the car. I'm kind of dreading what it's going to be like. I've got my handkerchief over my mouth. Then as we approach I see it.
“Look at that, it's gone."
We walk around the spot trying to see something trying to figure out what happened.
"Not a trace. I don't even see the tire tracks," Bill says.
" Someone's come and got them.”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
***
A few weeks pass and I'm getting back into my normal routine. But I'm still curious. Nothing's in the paper and there's no talk in town. That's unusual because in a small town like Hilltop there are no secrets. It's kind of creepy and I'm and itching to know what happened.
I walk past the hardware store and it's closed. I look in the window and all the shelves are empty. All the saws, hammers, screws, nails and other things are gone. In the corner of the front window, in the lower right corner is a “Store for Rent” sign.
I stop at the library and go up to Miss Swinton, the other librarian and ask for a book I reserved. “Catcher in the Rye.”
“There's nothing on reserve for you Jack.”
“I reserved it a couple of weeks ago. I spoke to Miss Watson. Is she around?”
She cocks her head and gives me this curious look and says, “ Miss Watson's not in today. But I assure you that there's nothing on reserve for you. I can look and see if it's available.”
I do not want to seem nosy.
“That will be fine,” I say.
What was that look about? Does she know something?
Each day I still think about them seeing them being dead. But each day it seems to be farther away.
Another month passes and my life has gone on. I've almost forgotten. One day I'm riding my bike home from the ball field and I see a “For Sale” sign on the Fishers' lawn.
That night I'm having dinner with mom and dad.
"I was riding my bike past the Fisher's house and I noticed a 'For Sale' Sign on it. I haven't seen them around lately. "
“I noticed the hardware store was closed,” my father says. “And at work Reilly told me that they'd moved up to Maine.”
“I didn't know they were planning to move,” Mom says. “Kind of sudden.”
***
Another month has passes and we're into the summer. And Bill and me finally get up some nerve and head back out to the reservoir to fish.
“I hope we catch some fish this time,” Bill says.
“Yea, no more bodies.”
We're about to climb under the fence and Bill Says, “Look at that shiny sign. 'No trespassing - $500 Fine' It use to be $200. ”
Life goes on for like nothing ever happened. But every so often I see are these little indications that remind me. I stand there for a minute thinking. Is this the way things are? I take a deep breath.
“Well are we going to stand here all day,” he says.
"They meant that sign for us," I reply.
We stand there for a few minutes. I'm walking in a circle trying to decide what to do. Bill's standing there. He's put down his gear and has his arms folded.
Then he says, “Suck it up man and let’s go"
"But what about the sign?"
He walks over near the sign and unzips his shorts. He whips out his dick and starts to piss on the sign. I walk over and join him. By the time we're finished the sign has a new yellow glaze on it. We look at each other and both of us start laughing. I'm pointing at the sign and practically doubled up with laughter.
I nod to him and he winks back. We climb under the fence and head down to our favorite spot.