“We should tell somebody,” Walter said quietly.
“Tell who?” Anthony asked. “The liquor store? Nobody cares.”
A slight breeze picked up, sending rust-colored leaves blowing past them. The man’s tattered overcoat briefly flapped before falling still again. The smell of body odor and urine invaded Walter’s nostrils, causing him to wrinkle his nose and hold his breath.
“He fucking stinks!” Spencer exclaimed, clasping his hand to his face.
“Still want to tell somebody?” Anthony asked Walter, his voice muffled from the sweatshirt he had pulled over the lower half of his face.
Walter didn’t respond. What he wanted was to be far away from here, if they’d let him. He took a cautious step backward and was relieved to see that the boys still had their eyes trained on the body. He did a “one Mississippi, two Mississippi” count before taking another step back. And he might have gotten away, but his foot landed directly on one of the dead leaves the breeze had blown past him. Ordinarily the crunch would have been almost imperceptible, but on this day it sounded akin to an angry elephant crashing through a glass house. The pumpkin-like heads of Spencer and Anthony snapped back and saw Walter trying to make his getaway.
“You’re not leaving already, are you?” Spencer asked as each of them grabbed one of Walter’s arms.
“I think he’s going to tell somebody what we saw!” Anthony said.
“Better make sure he’s dead first,” Spencer continued as they began dragging Walter toward the body. He attempted to plant his feet, but the two boys dragged him with the ease of an alligator pulling a wounded gazelle into the water to feed on. Walter could feel his asthma starting to go into overtime.
Oh, please, he silently begged. I don’t want to die!
Spencer and Anthony stopped about a foot away from the body. Walter could still feel his chest starting to hitch, and he knew he’d need his inhaler soon.
“What do you think, little guy?” Anthony asked, getting close to Walter’s face. His breath smelled like garlic and stale Fritos. “Is he dead?”
Walter bobbed his head madly, hoping they’d let him go. He silently swore that he’d never set foot in these woods again.
“I think he’s going to cry!” Spencer said, laughing.
“Is that right?” Anthony asked, blowing more of his rancid breath in Walter’s face. “Are you going to cry, you little fucking bawl baby?”
Walter clenched his jaw, combating not just with his asthma now, but also with panic and fury. The sensation of all three was so overwhelming he thought he might faint, but Spencer and Anthony held him steady.
“Well, if you’re mad at us now,” Anthony said in a mockingly apologetic tone. “You’re really going to hate this!”
They launched Walter toward the dead body. He lost his balance and fell on top of it, which in and of itself would have been bad enough.
What made it infinitely worse is that he felt it move.
Spencer and Anthony brayed with laughter as Walter scurried away. Unable to breathe he pulled out his inhaler with shaking hands, and shakily sprayed it into his mouth. His vision, which had become blurred and blown out, slowly returned to normal as he regained control of his breathing. He saw Spencer and Anthony looking at him with wide eyes, and the fact that they almost added a second dead body to the pile was not lost on them.
“You okay, kid?” Spencer asked in a low voice.
“Forget it, let’s just go,” Anthony said as he elbowed him in the arm.
“He moved!” Walter gasped.
Spencer and Anthony stopped dead in their tracks.
“Shut up,” Spencer said. He was attempting to sound tough, but there was a slight tremor in his voice.
“I’m serious!” Walter continued. “I felt him move! He’s alive!”
Spencer and Anthony looked at each other. Their fear was undeniable now.
“Seriously, we need to go,” Anthony said as he started to back away.
“No,” Spencer said, shaking his head. “We have to see if he’s alive. Because if this little shit tells somebody we were out here, the bum can back him up. And don’t forget why we came out here in the first place!”
Spencer proceeded to pinch his thumb and forefinger together and place them in front of his lips. Walter had no idea what the gesture meant, but that was the least of his problems.
“He doesn’t even know what that is!” Anthony cried out, sounding exasperated.
“But the bum will!” Spencer countered.
“So we ditch what’s left of the shit and leave!”
To Walter’s great pleasure, Anthony’s formerly gruff voice was becoming high-pitched and querulous. It almost sounded like he was going to cry.
“Fuck that,” Spencer said, holding his ground. “I already got picked up by the cops last month! They find out we had weed, I’m going to fucking juvie!”
Walter still had no clue what they were talking about, but he found their panic cathartic.
“I’m going to make sure he’s dead,” Spencer continued. “Then we dump the shit and get out of here. And you…”
He pointed a trembling finger at Walter.
“You say anything to anyone, you’re fucking dead, you got me?”
Walter nodded, though it was clear Spencer and Anthony had lost control of the situation. Regardless, he stayed still and kept a tight grip on his inhaler.
“What if he’s not dead, Spencer?” Anthony whined. “What happens then?”
He was definitely close to tears now, but Spencer’s mind was made up. He took several cautious steps toward the man’s body and leaned forward, looking for any sign of movement. When there wasn’t he knelt down, reaching a shaking hand toward the body.
“What are you doing?” Anthony hissed.
“Checking his pulse!” Spencer whispered back.
“Don’t fucking touch it!” Anthony said, raising his voice, but it was too late. Spencer was slowly placing his hand on the man’s dirt-streaked neck. Just as he was about to make contact, the body turned over with a thick rustle of clothing and the popping of worn-out joints. The man’s face, almost completely obscured
