The first heat marks the beginning of spring. It’s the day that the body feels heavy and tired at one in the afternoon, even though you might not have done that much for the day. It’s when the sun is so unmitigated that it doesn’t give us endless energies, but instead it leaves us to struggle to stay cool.
The heat isn’t the worst though, it comes in gusts, like an engine that sputters after it hasn’t been in use for a good while. Maybe the oil should have been drained and instead it has turned into this black tar that’s only good as the filling of a sink hole. You can rev the engine and it might help a bit, but there’s no guarantee that the idle will run smooth.
The reason for the gusts of heat must have something to do with the fact that the undercurrents of the ocean change slowly and in such a subtle way that it can’t directly be measured, except for the species of fish that seem to come and go. There’s one thing that can be measured: the appearance of objects that must have come from somewhere deep below.
“Fuck-wad, you’re making this shit up,” Tommie-Lee says.
“Give me one reason,” Bradley says, “Or give me the proof that I’m wrong.”
“I’m working on it,” Tommie-Lee says, “Believe me.”
Tommie-Lee and for that matter, also Bobby and Brandon never much believed in those stories about the ocean changing its lay and spitting things out that had disappeared in its depth somewhere in the past. It wasn’t that they knew of a better theory or that they expected tocome up with a better theory of their own, butit was just that they weren’t much for explanations of this or that. In that respect they were already like most folks that had lived in close proximity of theocean for an extended period of time: it was just there and that in itself meant that there wasn’t much to marvel about. It should be treated with caution though.
In a way it was like telling a cowboy why and when he should worry about the vastness and the harshness of the desert or to tell an ancient hunter when to worry about the potential threats that lurk behind every tree in the jungle. Now cowboys were the ones to always keep their cool and even when facing death they tend to remain stoic, which was basically just one way of dealing with reality. The ancient hunter might have opted for a similar approach as Tommie-Lee, Bobby and Brandon.
“The simple fact is this,” Bradley says, “Things washashore.”
“Now that’s something that we can agree on,” Tommie-Lee says, “Logically speaking.”
Still they were good friends: there were enough good times between them and they had a certain understanding. Bradley wouldn’t talk too much and the others would do their best to keep an open mind, which in practical terms meant that they met somewhere in the middle.
“I see something drifting in the water,” Brandon says, “Close to the rock.”
“Barely adrift is a better way of putting it,” Tommie-lee says, “What do you guys figure it is?”
“It looks like a chest,” Bradley says, “Like what pirates used to bury their treasures in.”
“Possibly,” Bobby says, “But if it is, then it means thatit’s empty.”
“It’s definitely some piece of furniture,” Tommie-lee says, “What about a totem pole?”
“Or a part of it,” Brandon says.
“For lack of anything better to do,” Bradley says, “We should check it out.”
*
The waves were too high to go out on the water in the small boat that they would use to go on the water with on calm days. For a rough day like today they had brought a surf-plank that they would use as a paddle boat. They didn’t go without any precaution, since this part of the sea was known to be very treacherous: every few months people would loose their lives, either when swimming, when a small boat capsized, or when rookie divers came up too fast from on deep. The treachery was a strong rip current that would pull you to the deepand itcouldn’t be seen fromthe surface.
Brandon was usually the one to go out on the plank. Among them he was the toughest, but also the most experienced out on the water. He was secured with a short line on the plank, and the plank itself was secured with a line to the shore. The plan was simple enough: Brandon would carry a second line and attach it to whatever was floating out there.
The tricky part was attaching the line to the object: if it was wood, it was usually slippery, because of algae. If it was large, it was hard to throw a lassoaround it and if it was deeply emerged it was hard to see what was sticking below the surface. Now a wooden object like what they saw from the shore was usually smooth, but if it had been in the water for a long time, it might have some sea urchins growing on it, or large fish such as stingrays or sharks might use it as an object under which they could hover and come closer to prey without easily being detected.
Between the urchins, sharks and stingrays – the sea urchins were the most treacherous, because the long tips of those charcoal black spikes tended to break off and cause the worst pain and inflammations imaginable. Stingrays and sharks were more scary though, but the most they would do was show some teeth and then they would be gone to the wide depth of the ocean floor.
*
Bradley, Tommie-lee and Bobby were watching how Brandon was struggling to attach the line to the large emerged object off shore.
“I still don’t get how you don’t get out there and do that stuff, with your old man being a fisher man and all,” Tommie-lee says.
“You gotta do what you’re good at,” Bradley says coolly, then he turns the attention on his friend, “Maybe that’s something that you ought to figure out….”
“What are you getting at?”
“He’s struggling,” Bobby says, “I bet it has those urchins and all kinds of nastiness.”
“Maybe it’s bigger than it seems from here,” Bradley says, “But I still have this feeling that it’s not just driftwood.”
They see Brandon raise up his hand. This is the sign for them that the line is attached and for them to reel him in.
“Any news on what it is?” Tommie-lee asks when helps him out of the water.
“Old and made out of wood,” Brandon says, “I would like to see underneath though.”
Now Bradley, Tommie-lee and Bobby’s turn to do their part: they pull the object to shore.
“I doubt this one is worth much,” Brandon yells towards the rest while he drinks somewater, “I figure that the most we can do is sell it to someone to put it as an object in their yard.”
“It’s just driftwood?” Tommie-lee asks.
“You can see for yourself,” Brandon says and he points at the object that now washesashore by itself with the last big wave. It looks one of those ancient boats that the native Indians used back in the days: it’s basically a tree trunk that has been cut in half lengthwise and spooned out. With modern equipment that would be a job of a few hours, but with ancient tools it might have taken a few weeks. Unless they had tools that we never heard of.
“Is it really an ancient boat?” Bobby asks, “I mean, not just the design, but also how old it actually is?”
“How could it have survived in the deep for so long?” Bradley asks, “How can anything survive the salt water for so long?”
“Air bubble?” Tommie-lee offers.
“I think it’s just a replica,” Brandon says, “It’s hardwood and all, but even that decays at some point.”
“What if it doesn’t….” Bradley says, still thinking, “What if it’s just like that ancient type of concrete that gets harder and stronger the longer it’s exposed to the sea.”
“Then how would that work?” Brandon asks, “How come we don’t see trees turning into concrete?”
“Salt,” Bradley says, “Water and low concentrations of oxygen.”
“Then it needs to have been under water for an extended time,” Bobby says, “Hypothetically speaking.”
“Yes and yes,” Bradley says.
“If we can prove that it’s really old, it will be worth a whole lot more….” Brandon says.
“I will take a sample and analyze it in the school lab,” Bradley says, “We need to keep it quiet though, because if the word comes out, I’m sure that it will be expected of us to just hand it over to the museum.”
“I’ll ask my uncle,” Bobby says, “He might know someone.”
*
In the distance they hear an old car passing. It’s an old rackety black Mercedes. There aren’t that many people driving that kind of car in Martossa, because an old car like that are usually owned by criminals or construction workers. There are even less that would drive a car like that down this road: it leads outback through the jungle and for those who are persistent it ends up in the small towns in the jungle that are days aways, and days after that there’s the desert and finally Moac, the big capital.
Many years ago the government had pulled together to connect the capital to Martossa by train. It’s used to transport cargo back and forth, including cars and trucks. And it’s cheap, much cheaper than actually driving down. The only reason that a person might have to travel down by himself is when there’s something shady that would be better to stay hidden from the authorities.
“What’s that guy up to?” Tommie-Lee asks, when they all look up from the beach.
“Hunting,” Brandon says, “But then it makes more sense to go by truck instead of a regular car.”
“I saw that car somewhere,” Tommie-Lee says.
“I don’t think it’s a local,” Bobby says, “The number plate is a different color.”
“Let’s finish up here,” Bradley says, “Either way it might mean trouble.”
2
The man in the car wasn’t a local, but he wasn’t a stranger. He was bad news though. This man went by the name of Victor Vaughn and he was as shady as they come: he made his money as a private contractor that was hired to strong arm people into paying their debts.
In other places this would be a way that the mob went about their business, possibly the local drug dealer or a casino that let people run a tab. In Martossa this was all very different. In a small sea-side town with just over a 1000 inhabitants it’s sometimes hard to be straight and for that very reason it wasn’t just the mob that hired the services of Victor Vaughn, but his biggest client was the local government that was always short on cash and they took it as their only option to go about their business as such. The public secret was that the Debt Collector was send by the federal government and that everyone, including the local government, was suffering because of that. The myth served its purpose, since Martossa was the far end of the country and in some way an insignificant outpost.
The reality was different though. The Debt Collector wasn’t hired by the city council, but it was more of a one man action of a man who saw it as his duty in the sense that he thought that it was the right thing to do. Or maybe it was more accurate to call it a two man action, since the council man always came up with ideas, but he was rarely the one to execute any of them. The man that had hired the services of Victor Vaughn was in fact the council man’s private attorney who was with him at all times. This attorney conducted most deals and he made sure that nothing could be pinned on the council man himself.
All of this was also much of the reason why Victor Vaughn travelled the jungle instead of the train. In the trunk of his car he had three 5 gallon gas cans and to the back of that he kept certain tools that he tended to use to convince people to co-operate. His basic mode of operation was that he went down to people’s houses and presented what needed to be settled. In most of the cases people were either embarrassed about what the neighbors might think, or what happened more often was that Victor Vaughn’s reputation had preceded him and they complied out of fear.
The ten percent was where the work came in. They told him to go fuck himself, they send the dog after him (which he usually neutralized with a simple cattle prong, after which Victor Vaughn sliced its throat with a swift movement). When Victor Vaughn returned the next day, most had the money ready out of fear for the terror that he might instill next.
The last five percent was harder to reach and this is where stake-outs and the more intense convincing came in. He called these his private sessions, because Victor Vaughn never much cared for the word kidnapping. In his eyes it was just a simple business transaction that required a little convincing. He always saw himself as a regular Joe, doing a simple job, after which he retired to his home and he guzzled beer for a few hours.
On these stake-outs Victor Vaughn usually waited until he could get to the person when they were alone and when he was in a position to sneak up from behind. In came the rag with chloroform to bring the person under, dragging the client to the car, tying the client up and putting the client on the back seat. Then the client was driven to a secluded location and Victor Vaughn started to get to work. He always told himself that this was the kind of work that had to be done and that no one was willing to do. During he always wore his headphones and he listened to classical music. It helped him relax and focus, but what was more was that it made him feel like it linked him back to the ancients: back to a time when life was more violent and for that reason more pure.
*
Victor Vaughn had already booked a room for a month at the Martossa Inn. It was a rackety cheap motel in a back street not too far from the beach. It attracted the kind of clientele that were mostly involved with their own lives, some escaping elsewhere, but what united most of them was that they were either poor as dirt or they were involved in certain business. There was a lot whoring, dealing, every few weeks a client overdosed and in all fairness most of them were junkies who had it coming for a long time. On a few occasions it involved students in their early twenties that all had bright futures ahead of them, but who for the moment didn’t have much cash to their name. The coke was cheap, but it also had impurities from time to time, which was linked again to being poor as dirt. It was the simple reality that isn’t that much different in Martossa, compared to Moac, Rokset Island or any other place: to be poor was to get the lesser on everything: food, health and life.
Victor Vaughn had always felt good between these lost souls: if they disappeared they would never be missed. He was never quite sure whether he applied that whole idea to himself, or that it gave him this feeling that he could balance on that delicate edge between civility and rampage. It gave him the edge that he needed to carry through and it made him feel in touch with his brutal self.
*
Victor Vaughn hadn’t seen the boys on the beach. It had been a long drive already and his clients were usually much older. One of the boys had crossed his path though: he was alone at home with his mother when Victor Vaughn came around. This was the only time in his career that Victor Vaughn had left a loose end.
When he came at the door, the mother instantly turned white and it was as if she froze to the ground. Next the boy came around the house, carrying his father’s shotgun.
“Get lost, asshole,” Bradley yelled.
“What are you gonna do with that thing, boy?” Victor Vaughn asked, “You’re gonna shoot me?”
“I suggest you step away,” he said, coming closer.
“I don’t believe you got it in you, kiddo.”
Bradley aimed the shotgun at Victor Vaughn’s briefcase. It blew up, all papers and rags. Victor Vaughn started to instantly boil inside and his fight or flight kicked in. He had been enough delicate situations before to know that this was one where he should recede.
“You better have the cash tomorrow….”
The boy aimed the end of the barrel at Victor Vaughn’s face. This was his cue to start walking.
3
Bradley went to the school to do the carbon dating: a percentage of carbon in carbon mono-oxide has been pretty constant for thousands of years. Trees absorb the carbon dioxide and store it in their wood. By determining the amount of radioactive carbon, it’s possible to make an accurate estimate of the age of the wood.
It took a few days to confirm the age of the wood, but they had a certificate stating that the boat was actually 800 years old, which in turn quadrupled the value of their finding. The boys ended up selling the ancient boat for a price of 500 dollar to one of the rich folks who lived on the edge of town.
*
After delivering the old boat, the guys stroll back to town.
“Not bad for an old piece of wood,” Tommie-Lee says, “It’s less than a half day’s work, split four ways.”
“We should get some drinks and celebrate,” Brandon says, “Maybe go back to the beach, build a fire, invite some girls.”
“Which girls do you know that are gonna hang out with the likes of us?” Bobby asks, “Besides, what if they want some of our money?”
“Why would they want that?” Bradley asks.
“They’re not literally going to take it, but they’re gonna make us pay for all the drinks and stuff….”
“So….?” the other guys say, “It’s for the greater good.”
“Women are trouble,” Bobby says, “That’s what my old man always tells me.”
“Seen as to how your mother is,” Tommie-Lee says, “I can understandthat.”
“Wooow,” they all go.
“At least my mother can cook,” Bobby says.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Tommie-Lee asks.
“You’re kind of skinny, dude,” Brandon says.
The other guys laugh.
“You are kind of skinny man….” Bradley says, and when he turns his head, his eyes meet someone that he didn’t see for a good long time: Victor Vaughn. He also sees that the Sheriff is having his eye on Victor Vaughn, and he knows it.
“He kiddo,” Victor Vaughn says, not feigning any emotion.
The boys don’t say anything and they keep walking their way.
When they’re safe around the corner, Tommie-Lee is the first to speak.
“Why did that fucker look at you like that?”
“You guys forgot?” Bradley asks, “He met with the barrel of my dads shotgun the other year.”
“You think he remembers?” Bobby asks.
“Are you for real?” Brandon asks, “Of course, he remembers, that’s why he looked at him like that.”
“Yeah,” Bradley says, “I heard that he killed a person in some other town and that’s why he can’t stay in any one place for too long.”
“The question is this though,” Brandon says, “Does he want revenge?”
“He had enough opportunity that last time,” Bradley says, “Maybe he doesn’t kill kids….”
“Let’s hope not,” Bobby says, “What should we do?”
“Only one thing,” Brandon says, “Keep our eyes open.”
*
Victor Vaughn wasn’t sure why he had left that loose end those two years ago. It wasn’t that he was a kid, if anything, it always gave him a certain satisfaction to scare the shit out of some kids. It was something else, something that he thought he wasn’t capable of: it wasn’t that saw himself in that kid, but he saw the moxie that too many people lacked these days. Besides, if it was his mother, and if he was that age, 12/13, he would have done exactly the same thing. He needed to decide though whether he would allow the loose end to stay loose. For now it was ok though.
4
The boys continue their walk and they go for ice-cream parlor at the foot of the board walk. There are many tourists and if there’s any place where Victor Vaughn wouldn’t want to try his revenge, then it was here.
There are a number of parlors around town, but this one is their favorite. The ice-cream is good in itself, but what gets them to keep coming back is that they always get more ice-cream than they paid for. The owner is a fat guy that was nicknamed The Italian, even though the guy was just a local, but the ice-cream truly was great.
“What can we do when that guy comes after us?” Tommie-Lee asks.
“You mean after Bradley?” Bobby asks.
“Friends stick together,” Brandon says, and in a scary voice, “Besides, he saw all of us together.”
“What does that mean?” Bobby asks in a scared voice.
“That guy is the most vicious man that anyone has ever known,” Tommie-Lee says, “If he wants to do something bad, he will do it to all of us.”
“Maybe if we just keep to ourselves,” Bradley says, “It’s not the kind of evil that kids can see: I saw how the Sheriff was looking at that guy.”
“Why can’t he just put him in jail?” Bobby asks, “He did bad things, right?”
“He did,” Brandon says, “Why isn’t he in jail?”
“My dad says that people are afraid to talk,” Bradley says.
“But everyone fears him,” Tommie-Lee says, “But I guess people don’ttalktalk.”
They reached the far end of the pier and they climb up the tower to the level where the light house is for the bay area. Martossa has four light houses, because the coast isn’t a straight or curved line, but it’s very rocky and it has a few areas where boats can’t make land.
“What exactly can we do when this guy comes after us?” Tommie-Lee asks, “Except to hide or run….”
“Take your dads shot gun,” Bradley says.
“Or scream like a little girl,” Brandon says, directed at Tommie-Lee,“How do you scream again?”
“Haha,” Tommie-Lee says.
“I may have something though,” Bradley says, “You guys heard of the Blue Lady?”
“….”
“Some years ago there was a group of homeless kids living on the streets in some big city,” Bradley says, “No parents or family to care for them. To keep it all together they started to come up with all kinds of stories – one of them was about the Blue Lady. You know how water is stronger than anything else, right?”
“All too well,” Bobby says painfully, and the other boys pad his shoulder. The house of Bobby’s family was almost destroyed in the most recent flooding: some fifty years ago the natural water ways for torrents from the mountains when there was heavy rainfall had been redirected. The men-made redirectionswasn’t good by far and on more than one occasion it turned the streets into gushing torrents that just went straightwhere streets tended to make corners. Bobby’s house was on one of those corners and since it wasn’t build sturdy it didn’t stand much against the water.
“The story went that if they summoned the Blue Lady, it would gush everything bad away: in a shoot-out it would cause flying bullets to drop out of the sky, in an attack it would wash away all the strength of the attacker and if a person is particularly angry it would wash away all anger and bad thoughts.”
“That stuff really works?” Tommie-Lee asks.
“It’s just a story, man,” Brandon says, “But that’s not the point.”
“What exactly is the point?” Bobby asks.
“That’s not important,” Bradley asks, “What if this story gives you more guts.”
“How did they summon this lady?” Tommie-Lee asks.
“It didn’t say,” Bradley says, “But I guess they just called her name….”
“Maybe we can use it as a code word,” Brandon says, “Code blue means one of us is in trouble.”
“We should all keep our walkie-talkies with us at all times,” Tommie-Lee says.
“We need to net let this guy get to us,” Brandon says, “You’re all with me?”
“Aight,” they all say.
5
Victor Vaughn makes his first house-call: Karla Doyle. This lady is what’s called a Fish Wife: she has a loud screechy voice and she has the kind of unpleasantness that makes it hard to be around her for more than an hour; even for her husband and kids (or maybe, especially for them). She was poor as dirt, four scrawny kids and house and a yard that looked like a cross between the local dump and an abandoned place with junkies.
Victor Vaughn hears the lady screaming, even before he steps out of his shabby ride. He thinks: I do what must be done.
*
Something went wrong. Or maybe it’s more accurate to call it sideways. Victor Vaughn had been on a stake-out for three days and it looked like there wouldn’t be any opportunity for him to take the lady on a trip without anyone knowing anything. They didn’t own a car, she send her kids out for groceries and during those three days she hadn’t left the house even once.
Then on the third night Victor Vaughn saw the light come on in the house at four in the morning and he quickly ran to take position behind the back door. Sure enough the lady came out, but it was a struggle to keep her quiet. The chloroform took a long time to work and Victor Vaughn ended up strangling her until she lost consciousness. It wasn’t what ultimately killed her though.
He took the lady to a deserted cabin in the woods that he had spotted the other day. He had tied the lady up on a chair while she was still unconscious and he had gone outside to take a nap. He fell asleep and when he returned to the cabin the lady had died: she must have swallowed her own tongue and suffocated.
Victor Vaughn had put stones in her pockets and he tied a few large rocks around her feet. There was a nearby lake where he dragged the body to the end of the jetty and dumped her in the lake.
Victor Vaughn returned to the shabby motel and he slept for a full 12 hours.
