Chapter 11: Speak softly, and carry a Big Stick
Let's be ready to go:
Camp Ivanhoe, 19 July 0600-
While Scoutmaster Ward and Chef were still a few hours from arriving at Camp Ivanhoe, Troop 55 stirred, awoke, and resumed their search (manhunt).
Bishop unzipped the entrance of his tent and breathed in the morning air. The morning was cool but humid and promised a day of sunlit warmth. He yawned, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and stepped out. Looking around he saw Doc. The shirtless medic scout was brushing his teeth. He caught Doc's attention and waved.
Doc took a drink from his canteen, gargled, and spat on the ground.
"Good morning," he said to Bishop.
"Good morning…Showing off?"
"What?" asked Doc who then looked down at himself and then added matter-of-factly, "No, I'm not showing off. I'm cleaning up. Poor hygiene can have an adverse impact to one's health."
"Right."
Doc finished brushing and then grabbed a bar of soap and his canteen. He then proceeded to wash behind his neck and under his arms. "Cleanliness is next to godliness…besides, I don't want to smell bad."
"Good point Doc," Bishop replied, then added, "I'm thinking that we should wake the guys up. When did you get up?"
"About half an hour ago. I did some pushups and sit-ups. Need to stay in shape, its healthy."
"Good point too, but why let us sleep in then?" Bishop asked, "We probably should be looking for Sullivan."
"I thought that too," Doc replied as he wiped and toweled himself dry. The medic then applied some sunscreen to his face, "But after paddling here, I think everyone is dog-tired. I had to force myself to exercise."
Doc had a point: Bishop was dog-tired; his arms were sore from paddling and he had gotten sunburnt on his neck.
"True, but maybe we should get them up soon."
The sound of a zipper caught the attention of the boys.
Tripp, half-dressed, stepped out of the tent and plodded over to brush his teeth. He carried his canteen with his good hand and his toothbrush in the other.
"Good morning," he yawned to them.
Good morning," Bishop and Doc replied.
Tripp was followed by the McMillian twins and Puddle.
"Where's Tucker?" asked Archer.
"Puddle, go wake him up," said Trigger.
Puddle ran over to Tucker's tent and called to their leader.
No response.
Puddle called for Tucker again and again received no response. He unzipped the tent and poked his head in. No Tucker.
"Guys, Tucker isn't here."
"Why do I have a feeling that he went after Sullivan on his own?" Doc asked himself as he applied bug repellant to himself.
"Because Tucker hates him?" ventured Tripp.
"Maybe we should head out then," said Trigger who was eager to find Sullivan and prove just who the better pathfinder was.
"Good, you're all up!" came Tucker's voice.
The boys looked toward the camp's entrance and saw Tucker walking toward them, Paneagle's club in hand.
"Thought you ran off too," said Doc.
"None of us thought of looking for signs of Sullivan when we got here last night."
"We we're tired," said Tripp.
"I didn't think of it myself, but we gotta be smarter than our quarry, so I decided to take a look around."
"Quarry?" Doc said and shook his head.
"Yup!"
"Find anything?" asked Trigger as he wiped the dust off of his glasses with his undershirt that was slung over his right shoulder.
"No. I don't think he came this way."
"It makes sense," said Doc, "We paddled way out of our way. I think that he took the short route and went to where the Stepping Stone River meets the strait."
"Across Rickety Shoals?" Bishop said in amazement, "He may have capsized!"
"One could only hope," Tucker said sarcastically.
"What exactly is the deal between you two?" asked Doc who was disgusted over the comment.
"Never mind," Tucker said sharply, then continued, "It makes sense that he'd go that way. I'm certain he's heading for the ol' Mile 3.25 Tidal Inlet, so we should head there and cut him off."
"That makes sense," said Archer.
Doc leaned in close to Tucker and said, "Look, I know you two despise one another, and I'm not exactly thrilled that he's a renegade, but he's fellow Khaki Scout, not a criminal."
Tucker ignored the comment and said to the boys, "Let's be ready in five!"
"But I have to eat something," said Archer.
"Me too," added Trigger, "I'm starving."
The troops voiced their agreement with Trigger.
Tucker surveyed the troop: They were in various states of dress-Puddle in full uniform, Bishop and Tripp in undershirts and shorts, the twins and Doc clad in shorts but barechested, most barefoot. He rolled his eyes; they would need a few minutes to get ready. "OK fine…be ready in fifteen."
Crossed Paths:
Scott Sullivan-
Scott had completely gotten over his sadness and was now back on his trek. He had well over a day to get to his destination. He had realized that he had quite a lot of time…as a matter of fact he had too much time. There was so much time that he knew that he would be missed. Someone was bound to be out here looking for him. He had thought of this earlier but forgotten about it since. But as the day wore on, he imagined that the whole troop, if not the entire fort, would be aware of his absence.
He also reasoned that his efforts at misdirection would only have served to give him a few hours head start. Trigger McMillian was too good a pathfinder to be so easily misled. If there was a search party he figured that it would find its way here instead of staying on ST. Jack Wood. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that he was heading toward the same destination that Sam and Suzy had made for in 1965. If things went bad, then there would be a search party waiting for him at his destination.
If they were waiting for him then he'd be trapped. Any searchers would probably include Captain Sharp and more scouts who would be able to reach the inlet quickly by car and boat. They would reason that with his head start he would have reached the inlet by now or would be closing in on it. Of course they couldn't catch him if he wasn't there.
Scott decided to continue his meandering hike across the island. He would steer clear of any trails that led to it. He felt that time was on his side. He'd go off toward the east and then loop back around sometime tomorrow afternoon and make it to the kingdom just in time. He lit another cigarette, he now had three left, and continued on his journey.
The oversaturation of pine scent finally got to be too much for Scott. His nose twitched and he felt a sneeze building up inside of him. He tried to stave it off but failed. He took his cigarette away from his mouth and sneezed loudly.
Troop 55-
Seven boys trekked westward from Camp Ivanhoe toward the center of New Penzance. Trigger led the way, Tucker followed to his right, Puddle to his left. Behind these three were Doc, Tripp, Bishop, and Trigger's brother Archer who brought up the rear. The troop had been spread out in two wedges but had collapsed into a single-file formation as soon as they entered the woods.
At first the lads were boisterous and joined one another in song. As one they sang a ditty that some of their grandfathers had sung, "A Mademoiselle from Armentieres parley vous! Mademoiselle from Armentiers parley vous! Mademoiselle from Armentieres, she ain't been kissed in forty years! Hinky-dinky parrrrleeeey vous!"
"OOOH!"
That last part came from Tripp whose grandfather who had learned it on the Western Front in during the last year of World War One. The boy gave a little hop as he gave his, "OOOH!"
After a couple of more iterations of the song, which became racier as the boys went on, they quieted down.
Now under the cover of the canopy of branches and leaves, the troop halted. Trigger took a knee, removed his campaign hat, and focused on his surroundings. He took in the pine scent of the forest, the chirping of the birds, and scanned the woods. He stayed like this for a full minute, then stood and moved on. The pathfinder repeated this act every two hundred or so yards as they went.
"What's he doing?" whispered Puddle to Tripp.
Tripp answered matter-of-factly, "He's getting a feel for the forest. He's listening for anyone walking and also smelling for anything out of place."
"Oh."
Trigger did his best to pick up any trace of Sullivan but reasoned that the wayward scout was probably at the Mile 3.25 Tidal Inlet, or what was left of it, by now. Still, it couldn't hurt. He was still sore from being so easily misled. He knew he could find Sullivan. He wanted to find him before he reached his destination. What sort of a challenge would it be if he found him at the one place where he knew Sullivan was heading?
It was obvious where Sullivan was heading and in a way that bothered him. He thought about it: Troop 55, Sullivan running off, Sam Shakusky, and a group hot in pursuit. He was annoyed that everyone knew where Sullivan was going. It took the challenge way from him. This made him feel sad. He wanted to single handedly find Sullivan. It would vindicate him as the best pathfinder around.
He came upon a trail that led down into a dried up river bed. He slowed his pace and continued with the other troops in tow. He sniffed. Something was burning. A burning scent wafted over to him on the breeze...cigarette smoke. Then a sound caught his attention: someone sneezed.
"Someone sneezed!" Trigger said.
"Sullivan!" Tucker replied.
"I found him!" Trigger said in triumph. He was about to move forward but froze momentarily as Tucker dropped his pack and walked past him.
Scott Sullivan-
The sound of approaching footsteps grabbed Scott's attention. He looked up from his position in a dried riverbed and saw someone coming toward him: Tucker.
He saw something attached to Tucker's backpack-Paneagle's Club.
"Why are you following me?" Scott asked.
"We couldn't let one of our own be off by himself," Tucker said with an unkind smile.
Scott replied to the smile with a quip: "Well you did tell me to take a hike."
"Didn't think you'd take it literally," Tucker studied the state of Scott and his uniform and took note of the missing arm from his uniform top and the scrapes and bruises and Band-Aids, "What the hell happened to you?"
"I ran into some problems while getting here."
"Guess it couldn't be helped," Tucker said then added, "We're here to bring you back."
Scott raised an eyebrow, "What if I don't want to go back?"
"Then we'll have to take you by force," Tucker said as he looked over his shoulder and saw that the rest of his troops had followed him and arrayed themselves behind him.
"Brought your whole army I see."
"Yes. Now you can come along without resisting," Tucker said and then whispered so only Scott could hear, "Or you could resist." Tucker looked behind him to the others and then back to Scott and with a wink, whispered again, "Please resist!"
Scott rolled his eyes, "Look, first you want me out of the troop and now you're trying to bring me back. Make up your damn mind one way or another. Either way Tucker, stop wasting our time."
"Oh, this isn't a waste of time Sullivan," Tucker said with glee, "This is an excellent opportunity to practice pathfinding and orientation skills."
"I've got something to do. Now if you and the rest of the Wild Bunch will excuse me."
Scott turned but then soon found a hand on his shoulder. He spun around and came face to face with Tucker.
Troop 55-
The boys of Troop 55 watched as Sullivan spun around and came face to face with Tucker. From there things escalated rather quickly.
Sullivan versus Tucker: Round One:
The two boys stood face to face, two and a half inches apart. Eye to eye they stared and waited for the other to make his move.
They didn't have to wait long.
Scott decided in a split second that fighting wasn't worth it. He would just back away and move out. Scott turned and made to walk off; Tucker however, had other plans.
Tucker reached out, grabbed Scott by the collar, and pulled him back.
"C'mon Sullivan le-,"
Tucker was going to say 'Let's go' but was cut off by Scott's fist.
As soon as Tucker had yanked him back, Scott planted his right foot behind him and swung round to his left with all the speed he could muster. He balled his right hand into a fist and sent it swinging right into the left side of Tucker's face.
The blow caught the boy by surprise and he let go of Scott. He staggered back and felt the pain register on his face. Amazed, he looked at Sullivan and saw him standing his ground in front of him. Tucker tasted copper. He spat on the ground and saw blood.
Incredulous, he looked up from the ground to Scott who had dropped his rucksack and said, "You hit me!"
"Serves you right."
Tucker rushed him.
Troop 55-
"I'm stopping this," Doc said as he moved past the others.
"That might not be a good idea," said Tripp.
Sullivan versus Tucker: Round Two:
Scott was barely a match for Tucker's boxing skills. He did his best to parry and block the punches and jabs and was successful for a few moments but took a brutal punch to the upper left chest and another to the gut which winded him. He staggered and dropped to his knees.
Tucker watched his opponent go down and then looked back to the others. He saw that Doc was heading down.
"Hold up Doc!" he yelled.
Doc reflexively froze in place. He had a feeling that if he tried to intervene then Tucker would floor him too.
"You bastard," Scott gasped as he struggled to get up.
"Bastard?" Tucker said surprised, "Me? A bastard? If anything it's you and your old man who are bastards!"
"Wha-what?"
Tucker looked at his ex-best friend and saw a younger version of Scott Sullivan's dad. That was enough to make him let go of the truth.
"You'd like to know why I don't like you don't you?"
Scott looked at Tucker questioningly, "What do you mean?"
"The reason my parents are divorced is because your old man had an affair with my mom!"
He said it loud enough so that Doc and the others could hear it.
Scott was shocked still.
"What?" he whispered.
"See I know your parents are getting divorced. That's why you've been acting up and breaking rules…and probably why you ran off! My parents are divorced because your dad convinced my mom to have an affair with him and now I have a broken home!"
Tears of rage flooded Gregory Tucker's eyes as he let loose the terrible truth that had been gnawing at him for months.
"This is not going to be good," Doc said to himself.
Tucker continued, "I hope your parents put you in the same situation I'm in Sullivan! I hope you feel as miserable as I do, you bastard!"
Scott processed the information and it all made sense to him. What Tucker said explained both the Tucker divorce as well as his own parents disintegrating marriage. It answered the question why his parents hurled insults and insinuations against one another. And it answered why Tucker hated him: Tucker couldn't stand the thought of being around someone who was a reminder of his own broken home; especially the fact that Scott looked like a junior version of his father. When Tucker looked at him he saw the man who broke up his parents' marriage and not his best friend.
Unfortunately, Tucker had said it loud enough for the others to hear. Now his secret was out and they would all rally behind Tucker, grab him, and drag him back to Fort Lebanon thus spoiling his mission.
He decided immediately not to let that happen.
Scott summoned what strength he had left and made his move.
Tucker was shaking in barely-controlled anger. The tears in his eyes blurred his vision which left him vulnerable to Scott's counterattack.
Troop 55-
Puddle stood overlooking the scene before him and struggled to process everything he had just heard Tucker say. As he was putting it all together he saw Sullivan stand and go charging right at Tucker.
Puddle watched as Sullivan unleashed his onslaught.
"Holy shit!"
Sullivan versus Tucker: Round Three:
Sullivan rushed right into Tucker and sent him to the ground. He straddled his opponent and swung at him in an uncontrolled rage. Tucker did his best to block the punches and succeeded in deflecting most of them but Sullivan managed to land a few. Some of these found his face while others hit him right in the chest. Lastly, one hard blow landed in his gut which caused him to lose his breath. He yelped, curled into a ball, and forced himself to roll to the left. He lay there on his side as Sullivan stood and walked off.
He went to Tucker's pack and removed Paneagle's Club.
Tucker looked up and saw Sullivan standing over him with the club in his hand.
"OK," he whispered, "I deserve it."
Sullivan looked at Tucker and wondered what he meant. Then he looked to the club and figured that Tucker thought he was going to hit him with it. Tucker couldn't have been farther from the truth. Instead Sullivan bent over, grabbed Tucker's right arm and pulled him to his feet.
The troop looked at the two bloodied boys and watched in anticipation of what would happen next.
Clutching the club in one hand and Tucker's arm in the other, Scott spoke softly, "Please…just let me be on my way."
For a moment, Tucker just stared at him dumbfounded, and then nodded his consent.
Scott let go of Tucker and marched off into the woods, leaving the others staring in disbelief.
