getting physical. Quickly, they filled up their squirt guns, laid the plastic weapons out on the patio, and then returned the items just as Elizabeth and Doug were finishing up. They walked into the kitchen. Doug was wearing Timmy 's old pair of Vans, from last year when he'd gone through a skateboard craze. They barely fit, and the laces were undone. Timmy's mother sniffed the air. Her nose wrinkled.
'It smells like vinegar in here.'
The boys glanced at one another. Doug's smile vanished.
'Really?' Timmy's voice cracked. 'I don't smell anything. You guys smell anything?' Barry and Doug shook their heads.
Shaking her head, Elizabeth turned down the radio. 'You guys want to stay for dinner?
We're having hamburgers and French fries. Randy's grilling when he gets home from work.'
Doug grew excited. 'Sure, Mrs. Graco. That would be great.'
'I'd better not.' Barry's eyes fell to the floor. 'Don't want to leave my mom home alone.' Elizabeth frowned at the odd statement, but said nothing. She winced again at the sharp tang of vinegar in the air. Motherly instinct told her that Timmy and his friends were up to something, but it also told her that it probably wasn ' t something that would get them hurt or killed or in trouble, and therefore, she decided to let go. Letting go was something she struggled with. No matter how old Timmy got, she still thought of him as her little boy, and she still worried. She supposed she always would, even when he was an adult.
'Hamburgers and French fries,' Doug said. 'That'll hit the spot. What's for dessert, Mrs. Graco?'
'Blueberry pie.' She patted Doug's head. 'I'll call your mother and make sure it's okay.'
'You don't have to,' Doug said. 'She's probably not there to answer, anyway.'
'Oh?' Elizabeth arched her eyebrows. 'Did she start back to work? Good for her!'
'No, she just spends a lot of time sleeping.'
'Oh…'
'Mom,' Timmy interrupted, sparing his friend further embarrassment, 'we'll be back in time for dinner. Right now we've got to go do something.'
'What?'
'Can't tell you. It's top secret.'
His mother smiled. 'Be back by four. Your father will be hungry, and if you're not here to eat, you'll make him grumpy.'
'Will do.'
The three ran outside, collected their armament, and walked down Timmy's driveway, heading in the direction of Doug's house.
Barry glanced behind them. 'Won't your mom wonder why we left our bikes behind?'
'No,' Timmy said. 'She knows Doug can't pedal with his foot like that. She'll just think we headed for the creek or something.'
At the edge of Timmy' s property, they turned left and started up Laughman Road, which climbed steadily uphill before leveling off after a halfmile. Thick forest bordered both sides of the road, with Bowman 's Woods on their right. If Timmy's mother were indeed watching them from the window, she' d assume they were going to the creek, just as he 'd planned. But instead of following the thin footpath into the woods, they continued up the hill and passed from his mother's view. The road grew darker, shadowed on both sides by the tall, arching trees. They seemed to loom directly overhead, as if trying to block out the sunlight. It was cooler in their shade, but unsettling, as well.
Doug limped, slightly dragging his injured foot.
'You okay?' Timmy asked.
Smiling, Doug flashed him a thumbsup. 'Never been better. Your mom fixed me up good.
She's so nice.'
'You say that now,' Timmy scoffed. 'But I bet you'd change your tune when she made broccoli for dinner and told you that you couldn't watch The ATeam until you'd finished.'
'The ATeam is stupid. Ever notice they fire like ten thousand frigging bullets at the bad guys, but never manage to hit anything? Nobody ever gets killed or wounded.'
'So? I like it.'
'Well, I like broccoliand I like your mom.'
'Want to trade?'
Doug's smile disappeared. 'I don't think you'd want to do that, Timmy.'
'Why not?' Timmy teased. 'You change your mind?'
'No. I just don't think you'd like my mother very much…'
'Yeah.' Timmy's voice grew softer. 'I guess you're right.' They walked on in silence.
At the top of the hill, Laughman Road leveled out, providing a straight shot to Doug's house. To their left, the forest disappeared, giving way to acres of fenced in pasture. They'd yet to climb the fence and explore the territory, due to Catcher. Mr. Sawyer's dairy cows roamed and grazed among the fields. Several of them stood close to the road, staring at the boys on the other side of the fence with wide, unblinking eyes. Timmy had once heard his father say that cows had the stupidest expression of all God's creatures, but Timmy disagreed with that. He thought the cows looked sad. To him, their eyes held longing, a wish that they could go beyond the fence and graze on the other side of the road. The grass of Bowman 's Woods must have looked greener to them.
'Moo,' Doug called out, his spirits lifting again. 'Mooooooooo!'
'Knock it off,' Timmy warned him. 'If Catcher hears us, he'll come running.'
'But don't we want that this time?'
'Yes. But I also want to be ready for him. This is a sneak attack. Don't holler for him until we're all set.'
Nodding, Doug moved away from the cows and began quietly humming a song by Morris Day and The Time. His limp grew more pronounced and his pace slowed as they neared the Sawyer 's home.
'Maybe we should wait,' he suggested. 'Come back another day.'
'Screw that,' Barry said. 'We've got the squirt guns, and we've come this far. What are youscared?'
'No.'
'Yes, you are. Admit it. You're scared of Catcher.'
'Screw you, dipshit.' Doug's face grew red. 'You're scared of him, too.' Barry held his hands up in mock surrender. 'Yeah, okay. Guess I am.' The Sawyer' s farm grew visible in the distance, sitting far back from the road and connected to the world by a narrow, winding lane. The boys knew that lane well, and viewed it as the gateway to hell. A grain silo and the top of a red barn jutted above the rolling hilltops.
'Okay,' Timmy muttered. 'This is it.'
They lined up side by side at the entrance to the lane.
'Okay,' Doug whispered. 'I admit it. I'm scared.'
'Of what?'
'Catcher! What if we miss?'
Barry grinned. 'Don't.'
'Wait until you see the whites of his eyes,' Timmy advised them. Then he placed his feet squarely apart, cupped one hand to his mouth, and shouted for the dog.
'Oh shit,' Doug whimpered. 'I'm not ready. You said we'd wait until we were ready.' Timmy stared straight ahead. 'Too late.'
His cries for the dog did not go unheeded. Within seconds, the three boys heard an all too familiar snarling coming from the distant farmhouse. A flash of black fur appeared at the end of the lane and rocketed toward them. Catcher 's growls split the air like artillery shells. As the dog drew closer, Doug took a step backward.
'Don't you move,' Timmy warned.
'But'
'Come on, Catcher,' Barry taunted the enraged Doberman. 'We've got something for you!'
Foam and spittle flew from the dog's jaws as he closed the distance between them. Catcher paused for a moment, as if surprised to see his rivals on foot and standing their ground rather than on bikes and fleeing. Surveying them with his dark eyes, the dog lowered his head and growled again, deep and menacing. He bared his white teeth. The boys trembled. Warily, he took another step forward. His hackles were raised.
'Come on,' Timmy shouted, his voice cracking. 'Come take a bite out of Doug.' Doug shot a terrified look at
