An Incidental Reckoning Read online

  Jon stopped this line of thought, not sure why his mind suddenly showed interest in ridiculous questions like these. He got up and went to the car for a sweatshirt to cover the gooseflesh that had broken out on his arms in response to the falling temperatures and light wind. When the car door opened, he wondered if the little guy would come back to tell him they couldn’t get any sleep with the interior light shining on them. He pictured the biker in an Amish hat, suspenders, and long black pants and smiled. But he didn’t laugh out loud.

  Jon went to bed, as quietly as he could as not to wake Will, although he didn’t hear any heavy breathing and thought Will might still be awake. But any conversation right now would lead to no good, so he settled down on his air mattress and pretended to sleep, too. And after a while he did.

  Chapter 4

  Jon woke to noise, loud noise, and disoriented he sat up straight in his sleeping bag. It had twisted around him in sleep, and now constricted further with his motion to nearly bind his arms to his sides. He swiveled his head, trying to understand.

  “Will? Are you all right? What’s happening?”

  “They started their motorcycles.” Will sounded calm. Calm as though being woken up at…whatever time it was, by Harley Davidsons happened all of the time.

  “What time is it?”

  He saw the blue LED glow of Will’s watch blink in the darkness and go out.

  “It’s quarter after two.”

  “What the hell are they doing?”

  “Leaving, I hope.”

  “But now? They come over and complain about us laughing, and then they do this?” Jon felt the anger and fear within him tipping back and forth as if on a scale, not sure which emotion had more weight and what the outcome if pressed.

  “I don’t care. If they go, they can do some laps around the campground first as far as I’m concerned.”

  Suddenly light hit their tent, and Jon instinctively tried to throw up his arm to the unexpected brightness, but the sleeping bag prevented him. He looked away and squirmed to get free but the bag held him fast.

  “Can you see if you can get to my zipper…”

  The rumble increased to a roar as first one bike and then the other accelerated. The brightness increased, the headlights pointing directly at their tent.

  “Will! Get out! They’re going to run us over!”

  Will scrambled over him, his knee briefly digging into Jon’s thigh and bringing a sharp pain, and then Jon rolled off of the mattress, the sleeping bag loosening somewhat to allow him to crawl and squirm out through the flap. The sound of the motorcycles peaked, their entire campsite lit up with what seemed like high beams. Will shoved at the bag now bunched around his waist and freed his legs, leaving a sock somewhere at the bottom. He saw Will at his car, standing on the far side with the door open, and then turned and shaded his eyes from the light, ready to dodge a homicidal biker bearing down on him. But the bikes had stopped about twenty-five yards away. And then the lights went out followed by the engine of one motorcycle and then the other. Again, the silence groaned at the sudden vacuum of sound. But this time Jon filled it.

  “What the HELL are you doing?!?” Somewhere, he was probably still afraid, but right now the anger coursed through him and he allowed it expression. Little bright flashes swam before his eyes. His heart beat wildly and he couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen.

  “Oh, hey, sorry about that.”

  “It’s two in the morning! We thought you were going kill us!”

  “Yeah, I know it's late. And I feel real bad, especially after coming over and asking you to be quiet. Chris here thought we should come wake you up first, before we moved our bikes, but I thought that might be rude. Guess I was wrong.”

  Jon glanced back and saw Will shut the car door, but he remained in place.

  “Yeah, you were wrong. Why would you need to move at two in the morning?” Will was still shouting, but his antagonistic tone sounded dangerous in his ears, and he found that yes, he was still afraid somewhere in there. And afraid was making a comeback against angry.

  “We were having a hard time sleeping. With the trucks coming down the road. So we decided to move.”

  “Maybe you could have walked the bikes over, instead of starting them and scaring us half to death.”

  Jon was regaining his night vision, and he could make out the forms of the two bikers. The small man had come closer to talk, but the large man, Chris apparently, was laying down a tarp for them to sleep on. He seemed content to allow his partner to speak for both of them.

  “You know, I never even thought of that. How stupid of us. Chris, why didn’t we think of walking the bikes over?”

  Chris made a grunt that didn’t seem an answer for anything and lay down on the tarp, shoving a wadded up piece of clothing under his head for a pillow.

  Jon was going to ask why they had to move right next to their site, but he knew the man would have an answer, something he couldn’t dispute directly. He had already apologized, and there was nothing to be gained from more harsh words. Maybe they were sincere, but Jon had a hard time with that. Seemed like a game to provoke them. He set his jaw and refused to give them the satisfaction. If they didn’t leave tomorrow, he and Will could move their campsite, and if the bikers followed, they would know there was something to it. Then maybe call the police or at least get a park ranger over here; although he hadn’t seen any since they had arrived.

  Jon walked towards the tent, and just before going inside, the man said, “Hey, Chief. All I can say is sorry. Won’t happen again.”

  “I hope not.”

  Will soon joined him, and they lay on their backs on the air mattresses.

  “I think we should move our site tomorrow morning, if they don’t leave.”

  “No. I’m not going anywhere. They aren’t chasing me away.”

  Will pushed up onto an elbow. “Come on, Will. It isn’t going to prove anything. Heck, I’m willing to go somewhere else entirely.”

  “You go, then. I’m staying here.”

  “Will...”

  “Jon, I’m staying. You do what you want. I’m not running.”

  He tried to make out Will’s face for an expression to read but couldn’t. But his voice sounded cold and calm, and made Jon nervous. The tone of a man that planned to go to the wall with this, whatever the consequences. He lay back down and started at the ceiling of the tent. He didn’t like Will’s second, albeit subtle, accusation of cowardice. But was it cowardice or wisdom to avoid stepping over the fence and into the bull’s pasture?

  “We’ll see what happens tomorrow, I guess.”

  He listened for sounds coming from the campsite next to them, but except for the occasional crinkling of the tarp as one of them adjusted position, and then some heavy snoring, nothing suggested a threat or any danger. Regardless, he didn’t sleep anymore that night, except for a few times nodding off and then jerking awake, sure he had heard the engines revving again.

  Morning light gradually filtered into the tent, and the color of the ceiling went from gray to a hue of rust, and then finally to bright orange of its manufacture as the sun broke over the horizon. The campsite next door came alive with sound: a stream of urine released uncomfortably close to their site, the sound of the tarp being rolled up, some comments from their liaison and low rumbling responses from his companion.

  Come on. Hurry up and leave

  He didn’t know if Will was awake, their bodies arranged in different directions so he couldn't see his face, and further Will was turned on his side away from Jon and facing the back of the tent. He guessed he was listening too.

  “Excuse me.” The smaller man's voice originated from right outside their tent flap. Jon fought back his fear, didn’t intend to answer, planned to make the man show his true colors this time, when Will sat up and looked at him.

  “I’ll take care of this.”

  He got up and unzipped the flap, and Jon could see thin legs covered with chaps, and didn’t know if
this meant he was ready to ride, or if he slept in the things. He held his breath and listened.

  “What do you want?”

  “Look, this is probably stepping way over the boundaries, especially after the trouble we caused last night, but could you guys spare something to eat? Trip we made was one of those fly-by-night deals, and we didn’t think much about all the necessary stuff. I wouldn't ask, but see we didn’t eat dinner either.”

  A pause, and then Will said, “Sure. Here’s a box of Pop-Tarts. Still six in there.”

  “Oh, that’s great. Very generous of you. But you know, Chris there could eat all of these himself and the box too. Got anything else?”

  Jon expected Will to explode, or maybe go the other way and give him the rest of their food stores. Hard to tell with his conflicting stances, afraid one minute, ready to take a bullet the next. But in a casual tone, he said, “No, that’s it. We need the rest for ourselves. Take it or leave it, doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Well, then I guess we’ll take it. Does seem like you have an awful lot of food, though.”

  “Not my fault you didn’t pack properly.”

  “I guess it isn’t. Thanks for the Pop-Tarts. Like I said, very generous of you.”

  “Enjoy them.”

  Jon took a deep breath and climbed out of the tent. Will had gone to get the cooler from his car and set it on the table, opened it and pulled out the egg carton and some bacon. He lit the camping stove and then dropped a pat of butter in a pan and prepared to crack open some eggs. Jon looked on nervously, glancing over at their neighbors standing next to their bikes and eating the Pop-Tarts. He didn't resent that Will had given them away. Anything to hasten their departure worked for him.

  He thought to tell Will that maybe they should wait until the men had gone before taunting them with the odor of the breakfast denied, but caught himself. Why should they be sorry, or cautious? Those guys were lucky to have gotten anything. He noticed Will did not look at them, just went about the task at hand.

  Soon the smell of frying bacon had Jon's mouth watering, his only concern now how long it would take to finish cooking. He got out some paper plates, and Will heaped them with scrambled eggs and about a half pound of bacon each. Not good for the arteries, but he didn't eat this way at home and allowed for some indulgences once a year.

  With plastic knives and forks and some water poured from a jug, they sat down to eat. He heard one bike kick over, and then the second, and then the bikers passed by. Will turned around and waved as they passed. Jon looked up, expecting the finger, but they waved in return. Such a bizarre experience. Maybe he'd try to analyze it later, probably even laugh about it when he told Erin. But for now he felt only relief when they reached the highway and rode off in a deafening bray. He listened to the sound of their departure fade with each second until gone, the camp left in peace.

  "Thank goodness for that."

  "Yeah," Will replied, and Jon felt some satisfaction at the relief echoed on his friend's face. His own desire to run bothered him more than he could admit.

  "Do some more fishing today?"

  "Sure. Why not? Place has been something of a disappointment. Not just because of them, but nothing to do around here but fish. I say we go somewhere else next time."

  "Agreed."

  They packed up their gear and left to find a stream, the mood much lighter now that the population of Ravensburg had shrunk back down to two.

  Chapter 5

  The weather had taken a turn. A thick blanket of clouds rolled across the sky, and without the sun to warm them, the air grew too cool for the t-shirts they wore while following the course of the stream. They had each hooked a few trout, but this time released them. The run in with the bikers still colored Jon's mood. The more he considered it, the more their behavior seemed calculated. It seemed personal. But he knew he had never seen them before, couldn't imagine beyond messing with them for fun what motive lay behind their behavior. Some people were just like that, he knew only too well.

  He thought again about leaving, and not just to somewhere else but going home. They had paid for another night, but Jon was willing to lose some money for peace of mind, a bargain really. With all of Will's talk about cowardice, and coming too close to having it proved one way or another, he wanted to return and lose himself in his life where things like this didn't happen; the events of most days predictable and nothing more required except to get up, go to work, talk with Erin a little bit at dinner, read or watch TV, maybe make love and then go to sleep. He'd had enough excitement, and wanted to escape before they met a tribe of backwoods hunters with plans to make him squeal like a pig.

  Driving back to the campsite, the interior of his car smelling strongly of fish and sweat, he said to Will, "What would you say to calling it a camping trip and heading back tonight?"

  "I'd say you were reading my mind. I didn't want to mention it in case you thought I was afraid...but since they're gone, I guess it doesn't matter now."

  "Oh, get off it, Will." He said it more sharply than intended, but the whole machismo thing had worn thin.

  "I know maybe it isn't so important to you," Will said quietly, "but I want to believe that I'm still a man, and if I have to prove that, I will. If only for me. I held my ground and I think I was willing to fight if it came to that, so I'm okay for now."

  "You did fine. And I think you would again, if necessary. We were kids. You need to let it go."

  Will looked out the window for a little while, and then said, "I know you're right. I'm sorry for making such a big deal out of this. Hey, next year you pick the campground. I don't trust myself to decide again, at least for a while."

  Jon laughed. "Yeah, you sure did good. Maybe Promised Land again?" They had camped last year at this park located in the Poconos region of Pennsylvania. Two lakes for fishing right beyond the campsite, and plenty of scenic hikes a short drive away.

  "Sounds good to me. The name is fitting after this debacle."

  "I'll be sure to bring some extra Pop-Tarts next time."

  Jon turned into the campground, and neither of them saw the bikers until they had gotten out of the car. They were now almost directly across from them, on the far side of the loop towards the road. The small man waved, and then started walking over, carrying something in one hand.

  "What the hell is going on here?"

  "I don't know. But Will, I'm leaving. Nothing good is going to come from this."

  "Hey guys. Didn't think you were ever coming back." The man approached, and Jon could see he carried a box of Pop-Tarts. He held them out, a wide grin on his thin face, the goatee sticking out almost parallel to the ground. "Here. Wanted to give these to you."

  Jon reached out and took the box without looking at it, refusing to take his eyes off of the man.

  "My name's Jim, but my friends call me Jimbo. You can too." He held out a hand to shake, and Jon stared at it for a moment and then slowly reached out and grasped it. The hand felt delicate, almost feminine, but he also sensed strength and energy, like touching the wire of an electric fence with the current turned way down but could quickly snap to life. Jimbo's eyes never left his, and their expression didn't quite match the smile. He let go quickly.

  "I'm Jon, this is Will."

  Will said nothing, just nodded. He had backed up, closer to the cars. Jon felt some irritation at that, all the talk about being men but twice now leaving him out front when it came down to it.

  "Chris and I felt real bad about how things went before. So we bought some weenies and buns, and thought we'd come back and invite you over for dinner before we go. It was supposed to be lunch, but you guys were out for quite a while. Fishing any good?"

  Jon figured he could have seen the poles in the backseat, but had the impression that they had been watched. He wanted nothing more than to get out of here, and away from this man and his silent friend.

  "We're actually going home. My wife is expecting me tonight, and I won't get there before dark even i
f I leave now. But I appreciate the offer."

  Jimbo's face fell. "Oh man. Chris is going to be disappointed. All he could talk about was how bad we behaved and wanted to make it up to you. I'm disappointed myself, but he's a sensitive guy and he'll take it hard. Sure you can't come over for just a minute?"

  "Well, I don't..."

  "Look, we just want to be left alone. Thanks for the offer, but my friend said no. So go ahead back over and have your dinner without us. I'm sure Chris will get over it."

  Will had advanced and now stood almost at Jon's shoulder. Jim regarded him with hard eyes, and Jon steeled himself to react, sure that finally whatever purpose these men had in harassing them would be revealed. What he would do if it turned physical was anyone’s guess.