What Follows After Page 3

He hung up and looked at his mother. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “Well, not yet,” she said. “Aren’t you going to tell us what’s going on?”

  “There’s not that much to tell.” In two minutes he gave them a rough overview of the situation. A look of alarm grew on both their faces as he talked. “Really, I have to go.” He hurried toward the front door.

  “You call us the minute you hear something,” his mother called out over his shoulder.

  “We’ll be praying, Mister Scott. You know we will.”

  “I’m counting on it,” he said as he flew down the porch steps. Although at the moment, he wasn’t feeling too sure the Almighty was listening to his prayers. He’d been struggling with his faith ever since Gina had left him. But he knew God would always listen to Mamie Lee’s prayers.

  He took some comfort from that.

  6

  Gina hung up the telephone and looked up and down the hallway. The principal, Mrs. Johnson, had offered to let her use her office phone to call Scott, but Gina didn’t want their conversation overheard. She hated all this secrecy about their separation, which was why she’d insisted it had to stop. But she hadn’t told anyone at the school yet.

  Here, like everywhere else, their charade was still intact.

  She wondered if Scott’s presence at his parents’ house in the middle of the day meant he’d finally worked up the nerve to tell his mother that Gina wouldn’t be playing along anymore. Walking back into the school office reminded her of why they had kept up this phony front. This was certainly not the moment to “come clean.” People just treated you different if you were separated or divorced. You could almost feel them pull away, like you had some contagious disease.

  Respect went out the window.

  No one in her family or in Scott’s had ever been divorced. No one in their neighborhood was divorced. No one in any of her social circles was divorced. She was certain plenty of them were unhappily married, but at least they were still together. She walked back through a cloud of cigarette smoke in the reception area and knocked on the principal’s open door.

  Mrs. Johnson looked up from her desk. “What did your husband say?”

  “He’s very upset. He’s on his way here now.”

  “You can’t think of anywhere else the boys may have gone?”

  Gina took a seat in front of the desk where she’d sat before and reached for a tissue. “No. They know better than to leave or go anywhere without getting permission.”

  “While you were gone, I double-checked. We definitely called you at work this morning when it became obvious the boys were absent, to make sure you were aware. First they called your house, and when no one answered there, they called the work number you gave us. I spoke with a woman who made the calls. She said she’d given the message to the receptionist, because you weren’t at your desk.”

  “Oh, I believe you. It’s not the first time I didn’t get one of my messages.” Gina wished her boss would fire that girl at the front desk. All she did was flirt with the salesmen. It was obvious she wasn’t there to work but to fish for a husband. “Can I borrow a few sheets of paper and a pen?”

  “Certainly.”

  “My husband suggested I make a list of all of the boys’ friends. And he wanted me to ask their teachers if they’ve made any friends here at school, boys we might not know about. Once I write them out, I may need your help again. We thought you could help us get their phone numbers.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Mrs. Johnson said, handing her the paper and pen. “You start working on that and I’ll call their teachers on the intercom, make sure I get them before they head home.”

  For the next several minutes, they busied themselves with their separate tasks. Gina was glad for the distraction. She reminded herself of something Scott had said, that something simple must’ve happened here, something they just weren’t thinking about. Not something sinister. The boys were all right. They had to be.

  “Mrs. Harrison, excuse me.” It was Mrs. Johnson.

  Gina looked up.

  “Timmy’s teacher will be here in just a minute. But Colt’s teacher wondered if you might be able to come to her classroom. She had to keep a boy after class for chewing gum. He’s washing all the blackboards, and he’s rather mischievous. She doesn’t want to leave him alone.”

  “I understand. I’ll go right there after I meet with Timmy’s teacher.”

  “She did have an interesting idea, something I hadn’t considered.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Has Colt ever played hooky before?”

  “What?”

  “You know, skipped school to do something fun? His teacher said two other boys had done that today. It’s all this military activity going on, it’s gotten the boys all excited.”

  “You mean the caravans of Army trucks going down US-1?” Gina had seen them all weekend, all heading south. Dozens of them, filled with soldiers and equipment. She had no idea what was going on, but the boys got very animated every time the trucks drove by, pointing at them and yelling. Maybe that was where the boys were. She hoped it was something like that. She’d have to ground them for a year, but she didn’t care. Anything to find them and get them back.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Mrs. Johnson said. “You know how boys are about the military. It’s all those John Wayne movies.”

  “And there’s some new show on TV,” Gina said, “just started a few weeks ago, called Combat. Timmy’s been begging me to let him stay up and watch it with Colt.”

  “Maybe the temptation proved to be too much for Colt and Timmy,” Mrs. Johnson said, “seeing all these military vehicles riding through their town.”

  Gina wanted to believe what she was hearing, but it was so out of character for the boys to do something like this. She could almost imagine Colt being talked into it, egged on by his friends. But she could never see him taking his little brother Timmy along on such a scheme. “But aren’t all the military vehicles across the river, on US-1?” she asked.

  “Mostly, yes.”

  “Have you seen any of them over here on the beachside, driving down A1A?”

  “I haven’t,” Mrs. Johnson said. “Think it’s too far for the boys to walk?”

  “Kind of,” Gina said. “Maybe not for Colt, but definitely for Timmy.”

  “I’m pretty sure the two boys who played hooky this morning rode their bikes to school.”

  Just then the office door opened, and Miss Jenkins walked in. She was young and attractive, her hair in a bouffant just like Jackie Kennedy’s. Gina thought she must be in her early twenties. Looking at Gina, Miss Jenkins said, “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Harrison. I’ve been worried sick ever since I heard. Any news?”

  “Nothing yet. But I’m wondering if you can help me.”

  “Anything.”

  “Can you think of any friends Timmy has made in class so far this year? Maybe some boys we don’t know? The only friends we know all live in our neighborhood.”

  “As you know, Timmy’s awfully shy. Occasionally I do see him playing at recess with the boy who sits in front of him. His name is Roy. But I don’t believe Timmy could be with Roy. I always stand out by the school busses and watch my kids get on. I saw Roy get on his bus this afternoon, by himself.”

  “There’s no one else that Timmy talks to or plays with?”

  “There might be a few others,” Miss Jenkins said. “But none that I would call a good friend.”

  Disappointing news, though Gina didn’t put much stock in this solution. There was still a sliver of hope in talking with Colt’s teacher, but she had doubts about that too. She just couldn’t see Colt bringing his brother along on such an adventure. What was she saying? She couldn’t see him doing anything other than waiting there by the flagpole with Timmy like he always did.

  Whatever had happened was totally out of character and totally unexpected . . . for both of them.

  7

  “Timmy,” Colt said, “put t
he comic book down and eat your pie. It cost me twelve cents.”

  “I don’t like it,” Timmy said. “The crust is too dry. Mom’s is way better.”

  “Mom’s pie isn’t here. You ordered it, you eat it. That’s all you’re going to get till we get to Uncle Mike’s house.” Timmy ignored his older brother. “Okay, I’ll tell you what, you give me that comic book, and you don’t have to eat the pie.”

  That got his attention. “What? No, that isn’t fair. This comic book for an old piece of pie?”

  “’Course it’s fair. They both cost twelve cents. If you’re not gonna eat the pie, you owe me twelve cents. You got twelve cents?” Timmy shook his head no. “Then I’ll take the comic book. Or . . . you can eat the pie and keep it.”

  “I’ll eat the pie.” Timmy huffed and set his comic book on the seat beside him, then picked up his fork and started poking at the pie. The fingers of his other hand started thrumming to the beat of “Do You Love Me” playing on the radio.

  Timmy loved comic books, even more than toys. And he loved this Spiderman one the most. Some brand-new superhero that just came out a couple weeks ago. He must’ve read it a dozen times already. Colt had read it once. It was okay, but he was more into baseball than comic books. But he had to bring it on this trip; it was the only way Timmy would come. Colt told him to pack light, so he could only pick two. He picked Spiderman and another fairly new one called the Hulk. Some great big green guy who goes around breaking stuff.

  Colt had already finished his grilled cheese sandwich, which also cost twelve cents. He could’ve splurged and bought them both Coca-Colas for an extra twenty cents, but he had to conserve his money, so they drank water instead. Cost almost everything he had for these bus tickets to Savannah, where they were headed now. Uncle Mike and Aunt Rose, their favorite relatives, lived there. Aunt Rose was their mom’s sister.

  “Do they even know we’re coming?” Timmy said. “Uncle Mike and Aunt Rose?”

  “No,” Colt said. “I couldn’t take a chance. If I called them, they might say no.”

  “What if they say no when we get there?” Timmy was still chewing.

  Colt heard his mother’s voice in his head, correcting Timmy for talking with his mouth full. “They won’t.”

  “But what if they do? You have enough money to buy tickets home?”

  He didn’t. He barely had enough left to pay for dinner if the bus stopped again between here and Savannah. “It doesn’t matter, Timmy. They won’t turn us away. We’re family. Families stick together. They don’t send other family members out into the cold.”

  “It’s gonna get cold tonight?”

  “That’s just an expression. I mean they won’t make us go home.” Colt glanced at a wall clock. “Now, finish your pie. The bus driver said we only got till three-thirty. That’s less than fifteen minutes. Then he wants us on that bus.”

  He looked out the window, saw their bus parked right where it should be. He didn’t see the driver, who was probably still in his seat. The man said this was only going to be a twenty-minute stop. Two other buses were here when they arrived, one pointed north, the same direction they were headed. The other facing south. A few people from the diner had already left and were boarding that bus. He wondered where they were going. Obviously somewhere in Florida; that was the only possibility going south.

  “Where are we, anyway?” Timmy said.

  “I’m not sure. Somewhere north of Jacksonville. That was that big city we drove through a few miles back.”

  “That was the biggest city I ever saw.”

  “Me too. I wouldn’t want to live there.”

  “Me either. Seems like you could get lost in a place like that without even trying.” He took another bite of pie. “Savannah that big?”

  “Not even close. I heard Uncle Mike telling Dad about it when they visited two summers ago. He said it was just a little bit bigger than Daytona Beach. Supposed to be a neat place. It’s got all kinds of Civil War history stuff.”

  “What’s the Civil War?”

  Colt didn’t feel like explaining. “It’s a war that happened a hundred years ago. You’ll learn about it a few grades from now. Keep eating your pie. We have to go in a few minutes.” He had no idea how Uncle Mike and Aunt Rose would react when he and Timmy showed up tonight. They were always so much fun when they visited. They laughed the most and smiled the most too, of all their relatives. When Colt had decided to run away, they were the only ones he’d thought of.

  They had to take Colt and Timmy in.

  Or maybe—and Colt thought this could be what really happened—when he told them what was going on between his mom and dad, how they’d split up, how they’d made the boys lie about it to everyone, Uncle Mike and Aunt Rose would be able to get his folks to see how wrong it was, how bad they’d been treating him and Timmy, and get them talking about whatever had made them so angry with each other. Get them back together again.

  Colt still had no idea what caused the split. But living like this was horrible for him and Timmy. Their mom was always depressed when she got home. She yelled at them all the time, made them do all kinds of chores she used to do. She complained about everything, how hard her life was now, how difficult it was being a single mom, like nobody understood what she was going through.

  What she’s going through? What about us, what about me and Timmy, what we’re going through? Did anyone understand that? Did she? Did she even care? He wasn’t sure anymore. This running away would get him into all kinds of trouble, but he decided it was worth it.

  Somebody had to do something.

  He reached for his glass of water and took the last swig. Timmy’s glass was almost full. He was just about to tell him to start drinking but then changed his mind. They were gonna be back on that bus in five minutes. He didn’t want Timmy to drink all that water then have to go to the bathroom ten minutes down the road.

  Speaking of going to the bathroom . . . He slid to the edge of his seat. “Hey, Timmy, I’ve gotta go. Do you?”

  Timmy shook his head no. Something caught his eye out the window, and he turned to look. “Colt, Army trucks, look at ’em all.” His face lit up as he pointed. “See ’em?”

  “I see ’em.” They weren’t the only ones looking. Everyone stopped whatever they were doing, including the waitresses, and stared out the window. Then something even crazier happened. A train rolled down the tracks across the street. It was pulling tanks, big green Army tanks, on flatbed trailer cars, one right after the other.

  “Would you look at that?” a middle-aged man in the next booth said as he stood to his feet, eyes fixed on the scene.

  A man wearing a baseball cap at the counter nearby stood and said, “I’m telling ya something big’s going on. Something they aren’t telling us. And I bet it’s got something to do with Cuba. I’ve been reading rumblings about Cuba in the papers. I was a marine in World War II. All these troops and military vehicles heading south, there’s way more than they need for some war game operation. I’m telling ya.”

  Another man spoke up. “Says here in the paper, they moved a whole fighter wing down to Key West.”

  “See,” the baseball cap man said. “And what’s close to Key West? Cuba! I’m telling ya, somethin’s goin’ on.”

  Another man, older, in a bright plaid shirt said, “I just heard on my transistor radio here, President Kennedy wants to speak to the entire nation tonight. He’s coming on at 7:00 p.m. on all three networks.” He looked back out the window at the tanks still rolling down the railroad tracks.

  Timmy was now on his knees, totally fixated on the scene. Colt wanted to stay there and keep watching, but he really had to go. “Timmy, you gotta come with me.”

  “Aww, Colt, can’t I stay and watch this? I’ve never seen real-life tanks before.” He was still staring out the window.

  “I can’t just leave you here.”

  “Please, Colt. You’re just going to the bathroom.”

  He couldn’t see any har
m in it. “Okay, you stay there till I get back. I’ll just be a minute.”

  Timmy didn’t answer. Colt hurried toward the back where the restrooms were. He glanced toward their table once before heading into the men’s room. Timmy and everyone else were still staring at the trucks and tanks going by.

  In the bathroom he thought about what that man had said, the one wearing the baseball cap. About something big going on, something they weren’t telling us. He figured by “they” he meant the Army, or else the government. Colt wondered if America was going to war. He sure didn’t want to be out there on the road riding a bus if war was about to break out and wished there was some way to be at Uncle Mike’s house right now.

  He came out of the restroom a few minutes later.

  What? Where was Timmy! Colt ran back to the table, calling his name. No one even looked at him. They just stood there watching the tanks and trucks roll by. On a radio in the corner, the Beach Boys sang the chorus of “Surfin’ Safari” over and over again.

  His brother Timmy was nowhere in sight.

  8

  “Timmy,” he called out. “Timmy!”

  He looked under their table, thinking maybe his comic book had fallen to the floor. But he wasn’t there. The Hulk comic book was still on the seat. But the Spiderman comic book was gone. “Has anyone seen my little brother? Anyone see where he went?”

  No one answered. They all just sat there, watching the tanks and trucks go by. He ran outside. Maybe Timmy had gone out there to get a better view. Several other people stood around watching the same thing. But he didn’t see any kids.

  He ran back inside the diner, into the other half of the building, which was a store. Running up and down the aisles, he called out Timmy’s name. He wasn’t there. Colt saw a rack of comic books and stopped there a moment. “Hey, mister!” he yelled to the teenager manning the register. “You seen a little boy in here a few minutes ago? Brown hair wearing a red plaid shirt?”

  “No, sorry. But an older guy wearing a brown sweater and a gray fedora bought a stack of comic books about five minutes ago. Said he was buying them for his son. Was that your dad?”