“Well if we keep heading west we should hit your road, right?” Bob asked.
“Yeah, eventually,” Alan said. “I don’t know how deep we are in the woods, but yeah.”
Bob looked at his phone again.
“Oh!” he said. Bob hit some buttons on his phone and then held it to his ear. He gave Alan a thumbs-up and nodded.
Alan approached and stood near the porch. He looked at his own phone—no bars.
“Hi,” Bob said into his phone. “My friend and I were out in the boat and we think we found a body.”
Alan heard chatter, but couldn’t make out the words.
“Yes, I mean it’s definitely some kind of animal. It might have been decayed or something. It looks human, I guess. My name?”
Bob gave the operator more details and Alan circled the cabin. He saw no signs that anyone had inhabited or maintained the place in a long time. The sides were covered in moss and looked like they might be more rot than wood. The roof was a patchwork of cedar shingles. He didn’t see any gaping holes up there, but he doubted that the roof would provide much protection from a hard rain. When he returned to the porch, Bob was disconnecting from his call.
“They said we should take the boat and go back to the culvert. They’ll meet us there,” Bob said.
“Can I use your phone? I should call my wife and ask her if she can be home for Joe. Who knows how long this will take,” Alan said.
“Sure,” Bob said. He handed his phone to Alan. “No signal on yours?”
Alan shook his head as he entered Liz’s number. After he explained the situation, he handed the phone back. Bob led the way back down the hill. The descent was more difficult than the climb. The leaves and loose soil gave way and the men were in a hurry to get back to the boat. Bob got there first. He untied the boat and waited for Alan.
The little engine didn’t want to start. Alan fiddled with the choke and throttle and pulled it repeatedly. Bob kept his eyes locked on the far bank, where the grass lay flat around the body. With a savage pull, the engine coughed to life. Milky puffs of exhaust streamed out behind the boat as Alan ran it full-speed across the little pond. Just before they reached the entrance to the creek, Alan tilted the motor up and let their momentum carry them through the sediment.
Their trip back to the the culvert was fast. Alan swerved down the creek, letting the prop chew its way through the weeds as they went. They scraped to a halt and Bob grabbed the metal edge of the culvert. Alan killed the engine. They spun the boat around before climbing the side of the culvert up to the road.
Alan looked up and down the road.
“This is the Mill Road, right?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Bob said. “We’re maybe three-quarters of a mile east of the dam. The sheriff is supposed to meet us here.”
Alan nodded.
“Wait, have you still got weed on you? You might want to ditch that,” Alan said.
“Oh, shit,” Bob said. He patted his pockets. He pulled out the pipe and the little baggie. He looked up and down the road and then down at the boat. Bob ran up the road and then down the embankment and up a little hill to the trees. He ducked behind a big maple and then ran back to the road. A car crested the hill as Bob walked back up.
“Thanks,” Bob said.
“No problem. I thought you said it was prescription.”
“Not my prescription,” Bob said. He smiled briefly. They watched the car pass. It was an old sedan. Bob waved, but the gray-haired woman behind the wheel didn’t seem to notice.
Another car came over the hill. This one had flashing lights on top—it was a white Chevy and it pulled over in front of Alan and Bob. The young man who got out wore brown pants and a short-sleeve olive shirt. He put on a wide-brim hat and approached.
“You the hunters?” the officer asked.
“Hunters? No,” Alan said.
“We took our boat up to the little pond. That’s where we found the body,” Bob said.
The officer followed Bob’s pointing hand and saw the boat next to the culvert.
“Take me there,” he said. He pulled his radio from his belt.
Liz ambushed Alan with questions as soon as he came through the door. Alan sat down on the chair next to the door and bent over to pick at his muddy shoelaces. He grunted as he reached.
“So what happened? Where were you, anyway? We’ve been listening to the radio, but they haven’t said a thing. Do they know who it was?”
Alan straightened up. His shoulder popped. He sighed. Joe was sitting at the table with his homework laid out in front of him. Joe had a pencil hovering over his paper and was staring at one of his textbooks, but he was clearly listening and hoping to hear the story before he was banished to his room.
“There’s nothing to tell,” Alan said.
“What? What are you talking about? You said on the phone that you and your friend found a body. What happened?”
“We did,” Alan said. “And then it was gone.”
He sighed again. Alan put his muddy shoes in the tray next to the door and then walked in his socks over to the microwave. He saw the plate in there and hit the one-minute button.
“Tell me everything,” Liz said.
Alan glanced at Joe.
“Joe, go work on your homework in your room,” Liz said.
“Awwww,” Joe moaned. “But it’s Friday.”
“And you won’t have a chance to do it Sunday because we’re going to the Grasso’s for dinner, remember? Just go upstairs,” Liz said.
Joe slammed his book shut and grabbed his paper. He stomped down the hall.
Alan leaned against the counter and rubbed his forehead. He started slowly—first telling Liz about the idea of the trip and how they’d found their way to the pond. She pushed herself up and sat on the countertop as Alan described the discovery under the cloud of flies. Alan pulled his plate from the microwave and put it on the table. He sat in front of it, but pushed it away as he told of the body and then the climb to the cabin.
“That’s when I called you,” Alan said. “We went back to the culvert, got the deputy, and took him back up to the pond. We were too heavy—the boat got stuck with three of us weighing it down—so I had to get out and pull the boat past a couple of the shallow spots. That’s how I got soaked through.”
“Take off your pants. I’ll go get you sweatpants or something,” Liz said.
“It’s okay. I’m dry now,” Alan said. He slumped down a little.
Liz jumped down from her perch and opened the fridge. She handed Alan a beer.
“Thanks,” Alan said.
“So?”
“We found the same spot right away. The grass was still flattened and the flies were still there, but the body was gone.”
“Gone? Where did it go?” she asked.
Alan shrugged. He picked up his fork and moved some of the food around on his plate. Liz had gotten takeout from the terrible restaurant down at Kingston Lakes. Alan jabbed at the mashed potatoes. A clump stuck to his fork.
“So there was nothing there?”
“No, there was something. It looked like a skinned gopher or maybe a beaver. I’m not sure. It was in the same spot as where we’d seen the body, but it was like a fresh kill. I mean, it should have been clear that the smell wasn’t coming from that thing. It was all bones and organs. The cop just eyeballed us. We kept telling him what we’d seen before. The purple thing didn’t even have a face. I’m not sure it was human, but it certainly didn’t look anything like the skeleton that was lying there. Then he asked if we’d been drinking or enjoying any drugs that afternoon.”
Liz sat down.
“That’s crazy,” she said. “It was gone?”
“Yeah. Then Bob suggested we go up the hill. When we were up on the hill earlier, we saw a lot of bodies out there.”